#Also this is why I wasn’t talking about my story for the Secret Santa on call a few days ago lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cyncerity · 1 year

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Secret Santa time!! @mcyt-gt-events

My secret santa was @pixiethesizeshifter!! I absolutely fell in love with your second prompt about a borrower’s first Christmas with their human, and you were kind enough to help me with my senior project so I was really excited when I got you as my secret santa and I wanted to make it really good

fun fact i’ve actually become like really attached to this story and I can almost guarantee there will be more content for it later

also it’s like 9k words and very unedited so there is a possibility that I may post this story again in 2 parts once I’ve edited it but for rn here!! I hope you enjoys Crimeboys hurt -> comfort

tw: vore, angst ig but it’s generally very fluffy <3

Tommy had never celebrated Christmas

That’s something that Wilbur has come to learn over the past few hours. Tommy had never had a Christmas. Something that had always been a right of passage for him. Something that had formed his childhood, even if he didn’t celebrate much anymore. His family had never seen the importance of having a giant celebration, or making Wilbur believe in the Santa fantasy, or making him go to church, but it was something he looked forward to every year nonetheless. A day for food, gifts, just a day to forget about all other troubles and focus on family and love.

Tommy had never experienced that.

It made sense, if he thought about it. He’d found the poor boy in a pet store, the same place most other borrowers that were captured went. He had bought adopted Tommy after a…particularly bad break up, just after valentine’s day that February. He was just…lonely. But Tommy wasn’t exactly what he’d wanted, at the time. He was unresponsive to anything Wilbur did to bond with him for a solid month after he was bought, enough that Wilbur went back to the pet store to ask if it was ok to return the young tiny. As much as Wilbur feels guilty about that to this day, without having done that, he probably wouldn’t have grown closer to Tommy like he did.

Orphaned at a young age, Wilbur learned from the store’s cashier that Tommy had been abandoned by his colony along with many other young children and left as bait for approaching tiny hunters so the others could get away. He’d been taken away, locked in a cage, had a hole scarred through his ear for a tracker and tag and only had a third left of his tail after it had been chopped of like he was a designer dog. His family had abandoned him at 5 years old to a place that would treat him more as an animal than a person. The employee said they weren’t surprised at Wilbur’s wanting to return him, since the previous over five dozen people had done the same.

Apparently, no one had been able to properly bond with Tommy, and his month stay at Wilbur’s house had been a record for him. They said they were hoping Tommy would have finally found a home, since he had been in the store for most of his life, being traded back and forth between humans. But, if Wilbur brought Tommy back, he would hit his 10 year stay in the store, and it was policy that he’d then be put down, like any other unwanted pet. If he couldn’t get along with anyone who may want him, then he didn’t have a purpose, so why should they let him live?

Wilbur ran back home, after telling the cashier that he’d changed his mind, which turned out to be the best decision he’d ever made. He started to see Tommy for what he really was; he started treating him less like a disobedient pet and more like a scared, traumatized child.

Tommy miraculously started to open up after that. After Wilbur reassured him time and time and time again that he was safe, that he would be treated like a person, he’d never be abandoned, and that he was, above all else, loved, Tommy began to open up.

Over the past ten-ish months, Tommy had grown so, so much. Hw wasn’t perfect, Wilbur knew that he likely never would be, but that was just fine with him, as long as Tommy was happy. He and Wilbur talked, talked for hours on end about the most mundane or stupid things. Tommy also, as Wilbur soon learned, had quite a sense of humor as well. They’d laugh and joke together, and they played off each other perfectly. Tommy had a sailors mouth to rival Wil’s, and though the tiny was very on edge about using foul language and insults for a while because “pets weren’t supposed to use that kind of language” (Wilbur wanted to punch whoever told him that) even after he started to trust Wilbur, the two of them now traded lighthearted insults back and forth like it was nothing. Tom’s hair was longer and healthier, now that it had been washed and cared for properly. He has better clothes that Wilbur had ordered specially for someone his size, and his eyes were monumentally brighter now that he had felt some kind of familial love. Tommy even trusted him with an...odd bit of borrower information; apparently, they were digestion proof. How Tommy learned that he had no idea, and quite frankly he was too scared to ask. All he knew was that that information tended to come in handy whenever Tom had nightmares or was having an anxiety attack.

And most importantly, somehow, by some miracle, Tommy trusted that Wilbur wouldn’t abandon him. Wilbur had convinced the child that he was different than every other person who’d taken him in, and he was determined to be. He was determined to help make up for the childhood that Tommy had never had, to give him every experience he was robbed of because of that awful store.

So when Tommy had mentioned that every time he was bought he was returned before Christmas, and had spent the holiday in what was essentially a hamster cage, it shattered Wilbur’s heart.

Tommy had never had a day to forget about his troubles, his trauma.

Wilbur was going to fix that.

~~~

Wilbur “went to bed” earlier that night, only slightly confusing Tommy, but the borrower seemed to brush it off. He needed a game plan.

You see, Wilbur had pretty much ignored Christmas after he moved out of his dad’s house. Sure, he got his family gifts and stuff, but he’d spend most of the day holed up in his room with a pizza and whatever shitty christmas movie was playing on tv. That wasn’t gonna work. He needed something better than that. For Tommy.

He wrote out a list of everything he remembered from his childhood Christmases; opening gifts in the morning, baking cookies with his family, playing out in the snow, and drinking his Dad’s hot chocolate. He looked at his calendar; two weeks. Alright, he could do that.

First up was presents. What did Tommy like?

The first thing that came to mind was music. Tommy had been ecstatic when he learned Wilbur played guitar, and loved to listen to him any chance he got. Apparently, constant music was one of the best parts of living in a public store. It had become his escapism while he waited for the next person to come alone and buy him only to bring him back a week later. Despite this, he seemed to dislike a lot of Christmas music. Something about the same 10 songs on loop for two months being the most irritating thing in the world to him. God, and Wilbur thought retail workers had it bad, at least they didn’t have to live with the constant bombardment of shitty Michael Bublé covers. He’d keep that in mind for Christmas.

What could he do with that, though? It’s not like he could get Tommy an instrument, they were all too small. Right? Could he make one? He’d never been very crafty. He wrote it down as a possibility. What else, though?

A disc player? That could work. He could make a disc of all of Tommy’s favorite songs, and buy him a disc player. He thought Tommy would like that.

He wrote it down as he brainstormed some more. Tommy liked gardening, maybe a little indoor garden? He was also pretty active, maybe he could buy something to attach to his walls that Tom could have fun with when Wil wasn’t around to go outside with him (Tommy usually chose to stay inside unless Wilbur went out with him, though he couldn’t really blame him. Tom had always been an indoor borrower, so he didn’t know how to deal with big animals. Wilbur would be scared of finding a squirrel double his size, too). Maybe more things for Tommy’s room wouldn’t be a bad idea: a full, human size bedroom with an occupant barely a few inches tall was bound to feel a bit empty.

Wilbur continued to write ideas until one suddenly struck him; clothes. He should get Tommy more clothes. He had a pretty decent collection of t-shirts and pants, a couple of jackets thrown in there, but one thing that Wilbur realized he was missing was sweaters. Oversized, soft, ugly but comfortable sweaters, a staple of wintertime. Probably because he’d never seen them on sale before. It was hard enough to find anyone that was willing to commission clothes for a figure only a few inches tall, and harder to find someone that would make them comfortable and, y’know, wearable to a person. So what if Wilbur didn’t know how to sew or knit? He could make a few shirts. Probably. Hopefully?

A quick google search told him that was a definite no.

Ok, so maybe he can’t make shirts, but he had a plan. He just needed to call up a friend to help him.

The next morning came quickly. Wilbur peeked into Tommy’s room to find the borrower still fast asleep, thankfully. Wilbur wasn’t planning on being gone too long, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to leave a note and some breakfast behind anyway letting Tommy know what was up.

With that all taken care of, he locked up his apartment and headed off to his old neighborhood, where his best friend still lived.

God, he missed her. It’s not like they lived all that far from each other, but they rarely saw each other much since they actually started to grow up. He hadn’t even seen her since her engagement party a few months prior, though her fiancé Puffy seemed like a perfect match with her. She still lived in the house she grew up in, Puffy choosing to move in with her, and it happened to just be a few doors down from Wilbur’s old house, which is precisely how they met.

He made it there after only about a half hour after taking a stop to pick her up some chocolates and a gift card as a quick thank you and early Christmas gift, and walked through the snow up to the familiar old and re-painted pink front door, knocking with a smile.

It didn’t take long for her to answer. She opened the door with a matching smile and was hugging Wilbur within seconds, her pink hair the nice strawberry scent that it had been since their childhood, bringing him a sense of deja vu. Wilbur hugged her back.

“Niki!”

Tommy woke up with a yawn, stretching himself out as sunlight beamed through his windows and right into his eyes. Fuck, he should really start sleeping on a part of the bed where that couldn’t happen. Not like he didn’t have enough room, sleeping on a human sized bed. He got up and made the trek off the pillow he slept on in the center of the bed to the small table next to the headboard, only to notice a small cup of blueberries and chopped up strawberries and a note.

‘Hey Tommy! Went to go visit an old friend this morning, should be back before lunch! Love you! -your favorite big brother’

Tommy smiled as he set the note back down, taking a bite of a blueberry. What time was if anyway?

He checked the clock up on his wall; 2:34

Man, did he really sleep in that late? And wasn’t it…past lunchtime already?

He got out of bed quickly, not even bothering to get dressed before he slid off his bed and headed out into the hallway. “Wil? Wilbur?” He shouted, walking from room to room but still seeing no sign of his human. Ok, so maybe he was home alone. Wouldn’t be the first time. And of course Wilbur wasn’t obligated to spend every second of his time with Tommy. But…he said he’d be home. Wilbur wasn’t a liar. Maybe it was just taking him a while to get home. After all, maybe he was stuck in traffic, whatever that actually was. All Tommy knew was that traffic had caused him to get home late before. Plus, Tommy just woke up, he had shit to do today other than wonder where Wil was. Right. He was independent, he was fully capable of being his own person. He didn’t need Wilbur, not right now. He’d be home soon.

But what if he wasn’t?

No, he would be home soon, Tommy repeated to himself over and over, digging his palms into his eyes to stave off the tears he felt well up. He would be home soon. He trusted Wilbur.

Ok, so maybe learning how to sew and knit was harder than Wilbur had thought. Niki had sat him down and taught him basic sewing patterns on a spare fabric sheet, and after stabbing himself for the twentieth time he gave up. Crocheting was surprisingly more fun for him, though. He had made a decently sized blanket for Tommy as a warm up, and he knew the tiny would love it, but he didn’t want to stop there.

As it turns out, having a best friend whose favorite hobby was crafting came in handy when you have a tiny little brother. Niki quickly started to sew some little t-shirts, leggings, and long sleeved tees with a nice, stretchy tech fabric that she had scraps from after seeing that Wilbur simply wasn’t going to pick up a needle again. Wilbur, however, kept crocheting. He managed to make a little beanie on his third attempt, and Puffy even showed up to help him learn how to make a little sweater. And make one he did. Scratch that, he made way more than one. He even made a few scarves, jackets, and even got Niki to sew a little sock for the end of Tommy’s tail since he knew the borrower was self conscious about the scars from where it was amputated.

By the time they were done, Tommy had clothes of all sorts, shapes, textures, and colors, though a lot was red and blue; his little brother’s favorite colors. A few shirts even had little logos and words from Tommy’s favorite shows after Puffy had remembered they owned a Criquet. Wilbur was absolutely beaming with joy once he gathered all the clothes into a box and started to head out.

“Thank you again for helping me, Niki. I really don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.” Wilbur smiled as he placed the box into his car. “Don’t mention it.” Niki smiled back, giving him one last hug. “Let me know what that kid thinks of them, alright?” Wilbur smiled, though a little less genuinely than before. As much as he trusted Niki, Tommy wasnt human. And though Niki was one of the sweetest people Wilbur had ever met, he didn’t know what she thought of tinies. Of Tommy. He’d tell her eventually, but…not today. For today, she was helping him make tiny clothes because the little boy he’d started babysitting loved dolls. Proper enough lie for the time being. “I’ll be sure to tell you how happy he is when he gets these. Seriously, he’s going to love them. Merry Christmas!” He finished, stepping into his car and turning it on. He watched Niki wave to him as he pulled out, and only then did he notice the sky starting to darken. Fuck. What time was it?

His dashboard read 5:46

Fuck

“Tommy! I’m home!!” Tommy heard yelled from the front entrance as the door slammed open. Immediately his ears perked up. He honest to god felt like he could cry.

Wilbur was here. He was back. He hadn’t left, he was here with Tommy again.

“WIL!!” Tommy screamed as he ran for the front door, seeing Wilbur’s expression brighten as he ran closer. Wil kneeled to the ground with his hands out and let Tommy throw himself into them, barely giving the tiny any time before scooping him up and pressing him to his cheek. “I missed you! I missed you so much, sunshine, I was thinking of you the whole time I was away.” Wilbur said, running a finger up and down Tommy’s back. He knew he fucked up; Tommy hated being left alone for too long. He needed that constant reassurance that he was wanted, and Wilbur couldn’t blame him for that after what he’d gone through. “I didn’t mean to be gone that long,” Wilbur continued, “I was just catching up with someone, and I didn’t realize how long it’d been till the sun started to set.”

“‘S alright. You’re back now, yeah?” Tommy said. Wilbur nodded. “Absolutely. You hungry?” “Fucking starving.” Tommy said, pulling away from Wilbur’s cheek. “You didn’t leave me lunch and I can’t open a fridge, you prick.” “God, you’re so needy.” Wilbur scoffed as he placed Tommy on his shoulder, making his way to the fridge and getting food out for the both of them before settling down on his couch to watch something.

It wasn’t long till he and Tommy had almost fallen asleep, and Wilbur moved to bring Tommy to his room, only for the sleepy borrower to cling to his finger. “Tom you have to go to sleep.” Wilbur said, yawning as Tommy shook his head. “No, fuck you, you left me alone all day you owe me cuddles.” He slurred, half asleep. Wilbur sighed, having seen this coming. “Do I know what you mean by ‘cuddles’ or are you being normal for once?” “Which do you think, bitch?”

Wilbur rolled his eyes and lifted Tommy higher to his face as he moved to sit on the tiny’s bed. To be fair to Tommy, though he as a normal human found this a bit weird, it seemed to help his little brother tremendously when he felt insecure. And he really would do anything for Tommy.

With that thought, he lifted the borrower up to his mouth, immediately feeling Tommy trying to weakly pry his lips open in his groggy state. He laughed softly as he opened his mouth and Tommy almost immediately fell forward, loosing his perch on the lips and tumbling straight onto Wilbur’s tongue. He felt the tiny relax as he slowly closed his mouth, making sure Tommy was fully inside. He felt and heard Tommy giggle as Wilbur licked him, quickly slicking him up and tasting him. Tommy’s weirdly good taste always surprised Wilbur less, even after they’d done this plenty of times. He didn’t know why he tasted good, or if it was only Tommy or every other tiny as well, but he wasn’t too concerned about it.

He felt a weak pat to the top of his mouth and took that as his cue to swallow, given that Tommy probably wanted to go to sleep. He could understand that, he was tired as well. He lifted his head up slightly, gently swallowing and tracing his little brothers descent with one hand. He laid back onto the bed as he felt Tommy enter his stomach, but he panicked a little when he didn’t feel him move around or get himself comfortable or anything. Wilbur propped himself up with one arm and pressed gently onto his midsection with his other, trying to feel if anything was wrong.

“Tommy?” he whispered. “You alright in there?” He sucked in his breath a bit and went quiet, now starting to register the calm, steady breaths from under his skin and the faint sound of snoring. Man, Tommy must have been really tired then. “Goodnight, Toms” Wilbur whispered quieter than before, lying back down. He released the pressure on his belly but still keeping a hand over it, rubbing it gently as sleep hit him as well

Ok. It had taken a week, but all of Tommy’s clothes were wrapped and the smaller-than-average-and-therefore-useable-to-Tommy sized disc player that he ordered had come in, so everything was going well. Sure, he was staying up later to get everything done and make sure Tommy wasn’t catching on and was spending more time in his room hiding anything that could spoil the surprise from his little brother, but he was fine. Phil did it every year for him and Techno, he was fine. He was fine. He just had to get everything else done before Christmas. He could do this.

He just needed a bit more help.

Tommy was fine. Really, he was fine. It’s just that Wilbur had been avoiding him for the last week and he had no fucking idea why. And it’s not even like he hadn’t been home, he just been locked in his room. Every time Tommy went to talk to him, he’d always look to guilty and scared, and he’d say something cryptic, hang out with Tommy for ten minutes, then run back to his room.

Had..had he done something wrong? Was Wilbur mad? Did he just want to be away from Tommy? Was he really that hard to like?

No, no… Wilbur wasn’t like that. He couldn’t let himself think that way. Wilbur cared about him, Wilbur loved him. Tommy couldn’t think of anything he’d done to make Wilbur mad at him, so it all had to be in his own head. Wilbur wanted him, and wanted to be around him.

Tommy heard footsteps.

He turned to the entryway and saw Wilbur zipping up a coat and pulling a beanie over his head, getting ready to leave. Without saying goodbye.

“…Wil?” Tommy asked, and immediately the human’s head snapped towards him, eyes widening in surprise. “Toms!” Wilbur smiled awkwardly. “I, uh..I didn’t know you were out here.” He said, shoving his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight back and forth impatiently. Tommy stared. “Where are you going?” “Just to see someone again. This time of year, man, everyone wants to get together!” He forced out a laugh, but Tommy didn’t budge. Wilbur sighed. “I’ll be back soon, ok? As soon as I can be.” He said, pulling the door open and taking a step out. “I love you.” Tommy didn’t answer as he left and the door closed behind him, the car starting up moments later.

Tommy couldn’t help it. Silent tears fell down his cheeks as he cried, his face frozen and expressionless as he tried to process what he was feeling. The first time Wilbur had left his room of his own volition in days and it was to leave Tommy alone. Again. Wilbur had never acted that way towards Tommy, either. Tommy had never seen him so desperate to leave a conversation.

Maybe he had gotten too used to being cared for constantly. Maybe it was bound to end up like this. Or maybe he was too spoiled. After all, this was still leagues better than he’d ever been treated. Wilbur wasn’t hurting him, or treating him like a lower life form. He was just…giving him less attention.

God, what was wrong with him? Wilbur wasn’t doing anything wrong, it was Tommy, just like it always had been. It was his skewed perception of family and his constant nagging need for attention that drove people away, Wilbur had every right to not like him. To ignore him. To send him back, if he really wanted.

How had Wilbur turned into his everything? He never formed any sort of attachment before. Hell, even in his colony, he was the orphan that no one wanted. Yet somehow Wilbur had made him desperately dependent on a family. On a human, nonetheless. And he loved it. And hated it. He loved Wilbur, his family, and he loved that after all this time he could finally love enough again to the point he could consider someone a brother to him, but he hated that Wilbur held his tiny, fragile, broken and haphazardly glued back together heart in his giant hands.

He hated that part.

The drive to Phil’s had taken a little bit longer than expected, but he wasn’t gonna speed there with ice in the roads. He had been greeted in by his other little brother (technically his twin brother, but Wilbur was born first and he’d never let Techno forget it), who was staying over for the holidays so he could meet with his nerdy book club or something. His father was also beyond excited to see him, despite Wilbur having called to make sure they had time to see him a week before Christmas, it seemed like Phil was surprised he showed up all the same.

“It’s been too long, mate.” Phil said, wrapping his eldest son in a hug. “You never stop by anymore.” “I know, I know, I’m a horrible son.” Wilbur laughed as he leaned out of the hug. “I just really need your help with something.” “What’s up?” “Well, this is going to sound odd, but do you remember on Christmas when Tech and I were kids and we’d all make cookies and you’d make hot chocolate?” Phil laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Of course I do. It was one of your favorite parts of the holidays. What about it?” “Could you give me the recipes?” “How come?”

Wilbur sighed. Phil knew about Tommy, he just…didn’t know exactly what Tommy was to Wilbur. Phil still thought of tinies as pets, which was why they’d still never met, and Wilbur really didn’t have the time to explain how wrong that was. Besides, Phil never seemed to look down on Tommy. He could even temporarily forget what Phil thought of Tommy most of the time, until he said something a little out of pocket that would bring the illusion crashing back down. “It’s just…it’s that borrower I adopted a while ago.” Phil smiled and laughed. “Right, I remember you telling me about it him! How is the little guy?” “He’s well!” Wilbur said, ignoring how using ‘little guy’ to describe a teenager rubbed him the wrong way.

“It’s just, he’s never had a Christmas before. I’m his first real family, and I want him to give him as good a Christmas as I had as a kid.” “Aw, mate, that’s so sweet! Of course I’ll help you! But where’s the fun in just giving you the recipes, hm?” “Whats that supposed to mean?” Wil asked, but Phil was already walking past him, going to the staircase that led to Techno’s room. “Techno! Get down here, we’re making cookies!” “Dad, I really should get home as soon as possible.” Wil argued, looking up at a nearby clock. 12:08. He’d left Tommy alone with no better reason than an awkward excuse at around 11:25 in the morning. He should really try to be home soon. “Don’t worry, Wil, this won’t take long. We haven’t bonded like a family in forever, either. You want to learn how to make these, right?” Wilbur sighed.

He could tell how much this meant to Phil. After all, his father wasn’t wrong. It had been a while since it was just the three of them hanging out together. Techno came down the stairs and Wilbur could tell how happy his brother seemed when he saw Phil pulling out all the cookie ingredients, even if to the untrained eye Techno still looked pretty stoic. He sighed. “Fine, but I can’t stay for more than an hour. I really do need to get home.” Wilbur relented, taking off his coat and throwing it over a kitchen chair. “How do we do this?”

…

It was 8:30. Godammit, how did he even manage to do that?

He’d just gotten so distracted with his family. Sue him, he missed them. Techno was always busy doing..whatever Techno did, usually fencing tournaments, and Wilbur rarely had the time to visit either. He really had missed being around his family.

And he really had meant to just leave as soon as the cookies were done. He’d even written down every ingredient and instruction as they made the cookies so he could go as soon as they were done and he could verify that they were the same they’d been in his childhood. But then Phil saw the list and walked Wilbur through every step in more detail, making sure to add little details like exactly how long an ingredient should be refrigerated before being added to the mix, and specific brands that would make all the difference in the cookies. And he had to admit that it did work. Plus, he still wanted that hot chocolate recipe, so Phil ended up writing all the ins and outs of that as well, along with making 3 cups of it.

Then he almost left but then he remembered Techno had a cd burner in his room and he really wanted to make Tommy something for his cd player. He ended up making multiple cds, some of Tommy’s favorite videos game soundtracks (he debated making one that would just loop The Able Sisters, but decided against it since it would drive him absolutely fucking insane), some of his favorite normal songs, theater music (including a separate disk for the entire Hamilton soundtrack, he didn’t care if that was illegal), and, the one he thought would mean most, a cd of his songs. The songs that he had written, that were mostly just his own voice and a guitar. He wasn’t sure if Tommy knew, but Wilbur always took special note of the songs Tommy liked. He worked the hardest on those, always being sure to ask for Tommy’s input and suggestions, and those were the songs that had the most effort put into them.

Techno and Phil hadn’t heard these songs. It had been so long since Wilbur had played his music for his dad and brother, of course they’d wanted to see what he’d been working on. So, he’d shown them. And he forgot he had a back up guitar at his Dad’s house, so he played them some of the songs he’d been working on. He did tell them that some of the songs were for Tommy, and Techno actually surprised him a bit when after Phil had got up to do something, he held Wilbur up and excused himself to grab something from his room, returning with a small cow keychain.

“What’s that?” Wilbur asked, taking the toy as Technoblade gently tossed it into his hands. “Just a cow. I don’t have much use for it, it came free with one of my online sword orders, so I thought maybe your borrower would like it. He is a kid, right?” Wilbur looked wide eyed and nodded, mindlessly fiddling with the stuffed cow in his hands. Technoblade smiled. “You mentioned it was his first Christmas, figured it would be nice to give him something. Plus, borrowers need ‘stimulus’ or something and I know they’re supposed to have, like, pet toys, but I think every little kid needs a plain old fashioned stuffed animal. I mean, he’s important to you, so he’s important to me, you know?”

Wilbur was actually speechless. Techno was never that outwardly thoughtful, he always had an issue expressing how he cared about people. Even though Wilbur was pretty sure Techno still saw borrowers as pets, he’d gone out of his way for Tommy. This…must have been really important to him. Tommy, who he’d never even met but had heard Wilbur gush about on the phone for hours, was important to him. He took a moment to wipe unshed tears from his eyes as he hugged his brother. “That means more to me than you know. And he’ll love this, genuinely. Funny enough, he has a weird love of cows.” Wilbur felt Techno laugh into his shoulder. “Send me a picture or something of him with it. And Phil and I want to meet the kid someday, remember?” “You will, I promise. Someday.” Wilbur smiled.

And before he knew it it was night, and Tommy had been left alone. Again.

He was a horrible brother, wasn’t he?

He snuck into the house at around 9:10 at night, after the long drive home. He wasn’t sure if Tommy was asleep or not, but he wanted to be quiet all the same just in case. He didn’t see him anywhere at first, but he did notice the light in his room was off.

Wilbur creaked the door more open slightly, and saw a small figure under a blanket in the center of the bed. Ah, so Tommy had gone to bed early. He closed the door back to its neutral position of only slightly open (since Tommy couldn’t reach the doorknob). He had some cd cases to add designs to and wrap.

Had he taken a closer look, he may have noticed the minute shaking from under the blanket, or heard the sniffling of the tiny’s cries.

Christmas Eve.

At least, that’s what all the calendars said. It meant fuck all to Tommy. All he’d ever associated Christmas with was obnoxious songs on the store radio (seriously, fuck those, if he ever had to hear any version of “Last Christmas” again, he’d scream), shiny decorations on the shelves, and parents coming in to buy their children mice or fish as a cheap replacement of the puppy their toddler had said they wanted. He’d been picked up a few times by those parents, thinking he’d be a good fit for their child, but he learned pretty quickly how to avoid being bought by those kinds of people. Parents didn’t want a pet that would curse at and bite their children. The only thing he actually enjoyed was that on Christmas day, the store was closed. No lights, no music, no crusty little kids or asshole employees. Just silence and peace for one day. Still alone, but alone with less of a reminder of where he was, what he was seen as, and how unwanted he’d been for so long.

But he didn’t have to worry about that this year. He’d found his forever home. At least, he hoped he did. He’d never had a reason to doubt that before.

But it had been two weeks. Two. Weeks. And Wilbur wasn’t around as much anymore.

For two weeks he’d been stalking around the house avoiding Tommy, leaving for hours on end and giving some bullshit excuse he made on the spot. Tommy wasn’t stupid. He just didn’t know why. What had he done to push Wilbur away?

Fuck this. Fuck all of this. Wilbur had always pushed Tommy to think for himself, to stand up for himself. He’d told Tommy his treatment at the store had been wrong. He’d told Tommy before that he had a habit of just letting himself be treated poorly. Back in the early days of his and Wil’s relationship, he’d let Wil just push him around. He’d go days without eating if Wil forgot to leave food for him, and he’d let himself be flung around like a ragdoll, content with the bruises. He never cared what happened to him. He’d never been wanted, he always assumed he was just not good enough. He wasn’t worth anything, why should he care about himself when no one else did?

Wilbur changed that. He changed all of it. He loved him. He made Tommy feel like he was worth something, godammit. What was the point of that if Wilbur was just going to throw him away? What kind of cruel, suck joke would it have been if Wilbur cared about him so much for all this time only to forget and abandon him now.

Fuck this. Fuck Wilbur. Fuck him for making Tommy feel like he was worth something, and fuck that he’d taught Tommy how to care about himself.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’d stand up for himself. Tomorrow he’d ask Wilbur…well, he wasn’t sure yet. But he had till tomorrow to think of something to say. Something to verbally sort out how hurt and sad and confused he’d felt.

Tomorrow.

God, Wilbur was so excited he could hardly wait.

Tommy had spent most of the day in his room already, but Wilbur had gone in for a minute to drop off his breakfast and lunch just to ensure that Tommy didn’t have to leave. He needed the rest of the apartment empty.

Time to decorate.

He had a few bins of Christmas decorations that he’d bought from the dollar tree over the years, not much, but enough. He had a pretty basic tree, but it was more than enough to put Tommy’s gifts under.

He was proud of himself. Sure, he felt awful about not being home, and he hadn’t slept this little since his high school finals, but he was proud of himself. Tommy would love this.

Along with the clothes, the cow (that Wilbur had removed the bulky clip from), cd player, and cds, Wil had bought a bunch of supplies to make a decently sized parkour park for Tommy’s room and had made a big custom terrarium. Granted, neither of these were finished; the wood for the park was too rough to grab without splinters and the terrarium was mostly just a bunch of connected boxes filled with dirt (and a small buried fish bowl that functioned as as in ground pool to Tommy, Wilbur was pretty proud of that one), but he wanted Tommy to have some part in these things. They’d still be surprises, but after Christmas he’d get to pick how the park was set up and what colors it was, and he’s get to pick out what plants went in the terrarium, though Wilbur had already bought a couple of bigger Bonsai’s and made a small swing to hang from one of them. He knew Tommy would love these. He knew Tommy would love all of it.

He was going to give his little brother the best Christmas ever.

Tommy hadn’t slept much. He was too worried about what to say. What could he say? Should he just wait a bit longer to say anything? Maybe Wilbur was just having a rough time with…something. Tommy wasn’t his only priority, after all.

No, fuck that. It’d been two weeks. If Wilbur really was having a hard time, he’d have said something. He’d have assured Tommy it wasn’t his fault, like he always did. Wilbur always reassured Tommy. Tommy’s well-being was always at the forefront of his mind, and he truly believed that; that’s one of the reasons he grew to trust the man so much. And if Wilbur was having a hard time? Tommy would find out. He just had to talk to him. He just had to suck it up and talk to-

His thoughts were cut off by the door opening more, his head snapping to the entrance as he heard an excited gasp. The lights were flicked on, and there in the doorway was Wilbur; Christmas pjs on, hair a mess, and bags under his eyes. By all means he looked tired, he looked fucking exhausted, but somehow only physically. Tommy took a minute to look at his expression and realized he hadn’t seen his human this happy in weeks, or, hell, ever. Wilbur looked ecstatic.

“Tommy!!” Wilbur yelled rushing forward and scooping the tiny into his hands, holding him against his cheek for a moment before pulling back and holding him at eye level. “Are you excited?” Tommy was speechless. Utterly fucking speechless. This was…now how he expected today to start. “…for what..?” Tommy asked, and that seemed to be just the question Wilbur was looking for. “For Christmas! It’s Christmas, Tommy!” “…yay?” Tommy said, still unsure of what to make of Wilbur’s sudden shift in attitude. But Wilbur just laughed and moved his hand a bit lower, beginning to walk out of the room. “C’mon, there’s something we have to take care of.”

Tommy could’ve sworn his heart stopped in that moment. ‘Please don’t be taking me away,’ he pleaded in his own head, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his whole body. He felt himself start to shake as he tried not to cry out loud. ‘Please don’t be preparing to pack me away and send me back to that fucking store. I can’t do it. I can’t fucking do it again, not after all this. Not after you. Us. Please, please, don’t abandon me. Please, please, plea-‘ “Tommy?” Wilbur asked, stroking a thumb down Tommy’s back, the familiar gesture helping immensely. Tommy cracked an eye open, turning back to look up at Wilbur. He only focused on Wilbur’s confusion and pity for a moment before something else caught his eye. Lights. Strings of lights lining the ceiling borders around the room. He followed the strands paths and realized they spread out into the next room, the living room, so he turned to see where they led.

He gasped.

A tree stood in the back corner of the room, giant and shiny and glowing. It was gorgeous. The room itself was decked out as well, green, red, silver, and gold tinsel hung off every surface, and christmas patterned blankets lined the couches. A fake fireplace video played on the tv as peaceful jazz renditions of Christmas tunes played quietly in the background. Most shockingly, under the tree, there were stacks of gifts of all varying sizes and wrapping papers, and some were even taller than he was!

“Do you like it?” Tommy turned back, seeing the hope in Wilbur’s eyes. He couldn’t help it. He just burst out crying, burying himself in Wilbur’s chest as soon as his big brother pulled him in closer.

“Woah, woah, Tommy, what is it, are you ok??” “I- I th- I thought-“ Tommy could barely bring himself to speak, his breath hiccuping with every sob. “Shush, shh, sh, it’s ok, Toms, you’re ok. Everything is fine. I’m here for you, ok?” Tommy felt large, gentle fingers down his back, and he fell back into a normal breathing rhythm. This was Wilbur. This was the Wilbur he’d missed. His brother was still here.

“…you did all this for me?” Tommy whispered, not lifting his head from Wilbur’s chest. “Of course! I had to give my little brother the best Christmas ever, of course.” He could hear the pride and excitement in Wilbur’s voice. “Took a bit of work, but I think you’ll love it. You wanna open some presents?” “They’re all for me?!” “Of course!” Wilbur beamed, bringing Tommy closer to the tree and setting him right in front of his presents. Tommy sniffled and wiped his eyes, nodding. “I didn’t get anything for you, though.” “And that’s alright,” Wilbur said, sitting down behind Tommy and leaning down to be closer to his level. “I didn’t expect you to. This is your first proper Christmas. Today is about you.” Wilbur finished, reaching behind the tiny to pick up a smaller present and hand it off to him.

Tommy took it carefully, as if he’d simply break it by holding it. The package was about the size of his torso, and was very light and squishy. The weirdest part of it was the tag, though. From…

“Technoblade..?” Tommy asked aloud, and Wilbur’s smile grew. “My twin. I saw him a few days ago and he wanted you to have this.” Tommy stared up at Wilbur, confused. “Did you tell him to get me something?” “Nope.” Wilbur said, popping the p at the end as Tommy took in what he was saying. Wilbur’s other brother thought of him? He knew the technical rest of his family didn’t really view him as a person, but…Techno had thought of him. And wanted to give him a gift. People didn’t do that for pets, did they?

Tommy began to carefully unwrap the paper around it before Wil told him he could just rip it up. That seemed a lot more fun, so he did, and he found a soft, squishy stuffed cow with little button eyes looking back up at him. Wilbur’s brother…knew his favorite animal? Tommy looked at it for a bit longer. It was a stuffed animal, just like other normal kids had. His size. It was practically made for him. Tommy just sat, taking the time to process it when he noticed a camera on him. He looked up with confusion and Wilbur laughed lightly.

“Techno wanted to know what you thought of it. You like it?” Tommy looked back at it before grinning widely. “Like it? I love it” He yelled, squeezing the cow to his chest. “Look at it, look at it, Wil! It’s amazing! She’s gorgeous. Her name is Henry. I will love her for the rest of time, I have never seen anything so fantastic in my life-“ He heard Wilbur laugh as he continued to rant. He heard a quick whisper of “I think he likes it” from Wilbur before the camera was set down. “Well, what do you say you open some more?”

Wilbur hadn’t been disappointed by Tommy’s reactions to his gifts.

They started with clothes, which Tommy was somewhat skeptical about (probably cause he’d been through his fair share of clothes that Wilbur ordered that didn’t fit), but after learning that Wilbur had recruited his friends to make them specially for him and he’d even learned how to crochet to make some of the clothes himself, he was far more excited to open them. Tommy literally cried when he opened the first sweater Wilbur had made him. Wilbur forgot that Tommy had never owned a warm knitted sweater, apparently Tommy hadn’t even known that clothes could be made that soft. Needless to say he put it on immediately, as Wilbur couldn’t help the pride he felt. He was actually a bit shocked at some of Tommy’s reactions to things, given that he’d been severely confused by the idea of tech fabric and he didn’t know what to do with the scarves at first either. He was very excited to pull out a shirt with the Hamilton logo printed on it, though.

Next up had been the parkour wood, which Tommy hadn’t really understood until Wilbur drew out what he thought it should look like in the tiny’s room. Then Tommy spent the next 30 minutes drawing what he thought it should look like, and it became a collective effort to make it as cool as possible. Tommy also decided that it definitely needed to be painted red and definitely also needed flame decals. Wilbur could agree with that.

The next thing was the garden, and Tommy almost immediately wanted to get in the “pool” section of it, now that he knew he owned swim shorts (Wilbur really needed to get Niki something to thank her for this, she was a saint), but Wilbur convinced him to at least wait until presents where done. He told Tommy that as long as he was really careful, he’d take him to the store to buy whatever plants he wanted for the garden, and he knew that to Tommy, that was a present in itself. Tommy didn’t get to go to public places very often, but he loved it. Tommy literally gasped as he saw the bonsai swing, and started to talk about what he wanted the garden to look like; what plants, maybe small tiling, maybe even little benches. Wilbur just lightly pushed Tommy back and forth and listened.

The last gift he gave Tommy was the cd player and the disks. Those were the most personal to him, and he thought that Tommy would find them the most meaningful. He was soon proved right.

Tommy opened the Hamilton one first, and was ecstatic, his joy only rivaled by the next two, the more personal ones of all his favorite songs and soundtrack music that Wilbur had known. And as if Tommy hadn’t done enough crying today, he cried when he opened the cd of Wilbur’s own music. The songs that Tommy had loved, so Wilbur had made them even better for him. Tommy immediately popped that one into the cd player.

Wilbur’s music continued to play out over the speaker as he and Tommy made cookies on the stove. As much as Wilbur wanted the cookies to be as good as Phil’s, Tommy was impatient as fuck and also a major kitchen menace. He had sit still long enough for Wilbur to properly make a decent bit of hot chocolate, but after that started to cool and he started making cookies, Tommy apparently just…couldn’t sit still any longer. He was a little bit helpful, but he couldn’t really help with most of the ingredients, so he ended up just getting covered in them and had also started using Wilbur as a jungle gym, making him mess up as well.

Wilbur put up with it until Tommy managed to hurl himself into the bowl of cookie dough. The human didn’t feel like taking Tommy all the way over to the sink, so he did what any rational person would do and just stuffed Tommy in his mouth, ignoring the profanities and screeches from the tiny. And if he “forgot” to let Tommy out until the cookies were in the over and the ingredients were put away, it was totally on accident.

By the end of the day, they were both sat on the couch, a mug of hot chocolate being shared between the two of them, watching some awful Christmas movie. Wilbur had tried to put on one of the ones he watched as a kid, but Tommy quickly proved too terrified of stop motion to keep them playing for long. So, they ended up just watching whatever came up on their tv, not that either of them were really paying attention, to caught up with everything that had happened all day. Tommy curled up into the side of Wilbur’s neck, pressed between a turtleneck sweater and warm skin, with Wilbur lifting the hot chocolate up to him to take sips from (coffee stirring straws were a blessing for that), fully content to just lay there forever. Even when Wilbur went to retrieve the cookies from the oven and started to break pieces off for Tommy after they cooled, he stayed right where he was.

“Y’know, Wil…” Tommy said after they had made their way back to the couch, bringing the plate of warm cookies with them. “You had me scared for a bit.” Wilbur hummed in confusion, unable to talk past the cookie in his mouth. Tommy sighed. “You just…I dont even know, really, you just kept…disappearing.” The tiny laughed shallowly. “I know it’s dumb, I know you better than to think you’d ever…yeah. I just…you went out of your way to ignore me. And, I get that now, I know why, I just…never mind, it’s stupid, I know what you were doing I just-“ “It’s not stupid.” Wilbur interrupted, lifting a hand to lay over Tommy. “Don’t ever try and invalidate your feelings like that. I…I know I fucked up. I just got…I got so worked up over making everything perfect for you. I was so focused on how you’d feel today that I ignored how you felt for the last two weeks, I don’t have an excuse for that. I’m so, so sorry, sunshine.”

God, Tommy really wasn’t gonna cry again. He didn’t want to cry this much on his first Christmas. He just felt…so much relief. He could feel an almost physical weight lift off his chest as Wilbur spoke. He had said exactly what Tommy wanted to hear, and he could tell that his big brother had meant every word. “Thank you. For..for apologizing. It’s ok, really, it is, you just know how I get sometimes.” Tommy looked down, and he felt Wilbur tilt his head towards him, squishing him farther into the neck and giving him a sideways hug of sorts. “And..and I know that you didn’t take me in just to have to spend every second with me, you have a life, too, and I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“And you’re part of my life. I love you, Toms, and I love to be around you. And I will never be offended by your fear that I may leave. That’s a recent trauma for you, no one said you had to get over that quickly. I’ll be here every day to make sure that having a proper, loving home becomes your new normal. I’ve become emotionally dependent on you, gremlin, you will never be able to get rid of me now.” Wilbur said, finishing by pressing his cheek against the boy, who only giggled and leaned farther into it it. “Thanks, Wilby.”

The two of them sat like that the rest of their movie, content to just be in each others company until Wilbur reached down to grab the hot (well, maybe now just warm) chocolate. Wilbur was a bit confused when Tommy took off the big sweater he was wearing, just leaving his tank top underneath, but that quickly turned to confusion when Tommy fell forwards into the mug. Wilbur panicked and quickly brought the cup up higher, seeing Tommy surface from the sweet liquid and start laughing. “Fuck, Tommy, are you ok, what the fuck was that?!” But Tommy only laughed harder. “You ignored me for two weeks, let me have this. Besides, don’t you wanna finish your hot chocolate?”

Wilbur scoffed and brought the cup up higher. “You’re lucky I love you.” Was the only warning Tommy got before Wilbur tipped the mug up and Tommy tumbled out of it with a yell, hot chocolate following behind him as Wilbur swallowed quickly. He felt Tommy squirm down his throat, hitting against the muscles around him but not trying to cause any real damage. Wilbur felt warmth bloom in his core as Tommy finally dropped into the stomach, along with the rest of the warm liquid. Wilbur pressed a hand onto his belly and felt Tommy press back. “You’re not gonna drown in there, are you?” “Nah,” Tommy said as Wilbur felt him flop back into the hot chocolate, making his stomach rumble. “It comes up just above my waist, I’m good. Now don’t move around to much, your stomach making noise shook me enough.” “Oh? You mean like…this!” Wilbur said, standing up only to flip back onto the couch face down, hearing Tommy scream and start laughing, and Wilbur couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Yes like that you bitch!! Get up you’re squishing me!!” Tommy yelled playfully, smacking the muscles around him. Wilbur rolled back over onto his back, breathless from laughing. He felt Tommy start to rub at the muscles around him and went limp, the internal massage making his muscles melt. “Merry Christmas, Wilbur.”

Wilbur could have cried in that moment. He didn’t deserve this kid. This little boy who’d made him happier than he’d been in years, who put faith in him after so many failed attempts at family, who even trusted him to hold his life within him. Maybe later there would be more mishaps, more misunderstandings. Maybe Wilbur would mess up again, and Tommy would start to lose that faith. But Wilbur would do anything for Tommy, and he’d have all the patience in the world for him to heal and grow, and he’d grow with him. They could grow together. But that was all for the future. For now, they’d be busy planting a garden, building a parkour course, playing music, and whatever else they could think to do. Together.

Wilbur smiled and rubbed back at where he felt his little brother.

“Merry Christmas, Tommy.”

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reolf · 5 months

Text

Mysterious

@rumbellesecretsanta

Hi @abovethemists, It's me, Santa!

Happy secret santa! I wish you every bit of happiness and luck.

You gave me a reason to write again and I am thankful for that. I hope you enjoy your gift.

Greetings,

Reolf

“rain, heartache, marriage of convenience”

– Heavy rain was pounding against the window of the carriage. Belle could hardly see anything of the landscape they passed. They were on the way to a ball. It was her 7th season and she was already considered a spinster. Her father absolutely hated it. He wanted her married and soon. Especially now they had financial problems. Belle couldn’t really say why she had stayed unmarried for so long. Was it her mother’s early death? Her absence making it difficult for Belle to navigate the balls and other social gatherings of the ton? Was it her father being an awful matchmaker, only introducing her to boring and dull men? Or perhaps it was just herself who was the problem? Maybe she was the odd one, as she loved to read countless books. It wouldn’t be the first time if she sneaked away during a ball to the library. It wasn’t ladylike, but Belle couldn’t help herself sometimes. – This ball, it seemed difficult to sneak away to the library. They were at the home of The Duke and Duchess of Misthaven. Lord David and his wife Mary Margaret were perfect hosts, but they were highly honored among society. Her father wished they had the social standing among the ton as they did. Her father was only a baron. Their family’s history has been shrouded by the multiple feudal lords waging wars they couldn’t win. It seemed Belle couldn’t win either.

While her father conversed with other Lords, Belle was stationed next to the dance floor. Her dance card remained relatively empty until she caught the eye of a broad shouldered man. He was tall and had dark hair. She felt his eyes on her during the third dance of the evening and by the fourth he had approached her already.

“I don’t think I have ever seen you before. What is your name?”

Belle introduced herself. He smiled and took her hand, kissing her glove. “ My name is Gaston, Lord of LeGume. Can I have this dance?”

As Belle couldn’t see a reason why not, she let him lead her to the dancefloor for the next round of country dance.

His presence was overwhelming. He grabbed her hands, hurting her more really. She also found he was terribly arrogant as he talked about himself and his lavish hunting parties. He insulted other ladies as they passed by. “That dress is ugly compared to her necklace. She is rather idiotic looking. Unless you, my Belle, you are stunning.”

Belle found herself getting more bored by the minute. She hoped the party would soon be over and she could return to her books.

It was when Gaston went to get her a glass of lemonade, she could finally breathe again.

She wanted to turn around and get lost among the corridors of the estate, no matter the social cost. She wanted to do just that as she bumped against someone. Hastily apologizing, she looked up into a familiar face. It was Lord Gold, Earl of the Frontlands.

“It’s no matter,” he answered in his brogue voice. “ I wasn’t looking where I was going either.”

Lord Gold was a mysterious person among the ton. He rarely was at the social events, only if he could make deals with other people. If not making deals, he was standing alone in a corner, cane between his feet. He had long brown hair with gray strands in between, which was unconventional for the fashion. She had spoken to him a handful of times, between standing at the sidelines and being ignored by the other members of the ton.

He was a relatively quiet man and Belle didn’t know why he was so standoffish towards other people. He had obviously a past and Belle liked to know his story.

She saw an opportunity. When she saw Gaston returning, she laughed like she had heard a funny joke and looked Gold in the eye, hoping he would get along. “You are a man of wit, my Lord”

Gold, who had seen Gaston approaching, smiled at her. “If you say so, Miss Marchland.”

Gaston halted in his steps when he saw Gold, but seemed to refind his feet and approached them. “Excuse me, my Lord. But the Lady belongs to me.”

Gold faintly smiled. “ Oh, is that so? Well, I seem to remember another Lady at another ball where I heard you say that exact same thing. How did that end for you?”

Belle looked between the two men, confused what they were talking about.

It seemed to work for now. Gaston wished her a good evening and walked off. Belle smiled at Gold. “Thank you for that. He was terribly arrogant and intimidating.”

Gold stared into her eyes and nodded. “From what I have seen, I cannot disagree.” He looked at his pocket watch. “Well, I must be off. Give my regards to your father.”

And he walked away, leaning on his cane. – Gold rarely attended social gatherings. If he did, it was for good reason. Balls were tedious affairs, but visiting the Gentlemen’s Club was even more exhausting. Listening to men boasting about their lives was… interesting to get to know their weaknesses, but exhausting nonetheless.

Right now, he was sitting in a corner, listening to the arrogant Lord LeGume, Gaston. And he was boiling with anger.

“I will tell you this, gentlemen. She is the one, the lucky girl I am going to marry.”

“The Marchland’s Baron's daughter? Isn’t she the odd one?”

Gaston shrugged. “She is the most beautiful girl in town.”

“I know, but…”

Gaston slammed his fist on the table. “I know she is the best, and I only acquire the best.”

He sat back, slightly more relaxed. “Besides, her father is practically bankrupt. He is desperate to marry his daughter. Her title will make it easier for me to get up in the social ladder. Once I save her father from bankruptcy, I will take his place and bam my family’s name will be entering the nobility.”

Gold had heard enough. In no circumstances would he let Belle marry that oaf. She deserved a handsome man, yes, but she deserved someone wanting to be her partner, making sure she was happy, appreciating her sharp mind.

In all the years Gold had seen Belle at balls, he had never seen her with a real suitor. He knew she was beginning to be considered a spinster. Gaston was her first real chance of marriage.

Gold hated himself to do this but he had no choice. He was selfish. He wanted Belle safe.

That’s why he stepped into his carriage and made his way to the house of the Baron of Marchland. –

Belle didn’t know how her father had arranged it, but she was marrying. To Lord Duncan Gold, Earl of the Frontlands of all people! She could scarcely believe it.

It was a quiet affair: a priest in a small church, her father at her side, an exchange of vows and a small kiss on the lips.

She was a Countess now! Who had ever thought Odd Belle would be married to an Earl?

Her new husband was quiet on the way to his estate. He just looked outside the carriage window. When they arrived, Belle saw a gigantic mansion. It would seem the Earl of the Frontlands had a lot of money.

Gold helped her out of the carriage by offering his hand. A small boy came running down the front stairs.

“Papa! You are home!”

Gold smiled at the boy. Belle had never seen him smile like that before.

“Hello, Bae.”

The boy hugged his father. Gold nudged him to look at Belle. “Bae, may I introduce you to my wife, Lady Belle. Belle, this is my son, Baden Neal Gold.”

The boy looked at her with big brown eyes, the same colour as his father. He had black hair that was slightly curly. He seemed to be around the age of eight.

“Welcome to the Gold estate, my Lady.” Bae gave a small bow.

“Alright son, why don’t you give Lady Belle a tour of the house while I will see to her luggage being brought inside.”

Belle was slightly disappointed Gold wouldn’t be the one to lead her around, but the small boy before her was a good guide.

He showed her the drawing rooms, the dining room, the ballroom “which we never use but it’s here”, the studies, the gallery, the library (which Belle absolutely loved).

She could see herself living in this place. – Gold had made it clear to Belle they were only married in name and for financial reasons. Belle had stayed alone in her chambers on her wedding night. She knew it would be a marriage like that, but she couldn’t help being disappointed by his absence.

The days following their marriage she remained her only company. Bae was mostly occupied with his lessons with his governess. Belle took her meals alone, her walks alone in the gardens. If she encountered Gold in the corridors, he nodded briefly and hurried along. When she was in the library reading a book, he would enter, see her and walk out again.

He was avoiding her. Only, she had no idea why. – It was one winter evening when she entered the drawing room, she saw Bae play with a set of wooden soldiers in front of the fire. Gold was sitting in a chair, reading a book.

Upon seeing her, he went to sit up and close his book. Bae noticed, looking between his father and Belle.

“Papa, look at my general!”

Gold looked and nodded. “I see it, Bae.”

Belle saw an opportunity to enter the conversation.

“Can you introduce me to your soldiers, Bae? I haven’t played with soldiers ever before. Can I join?”

The boy happily showed her how to play and appointed her to be the captain of his troops while he was the general. From the corner of her eye, Belle saw how Gold was watching them. And for the first time since their wedding day, he didn’t run away. –

It was the first ball they were attending as a married couple. Belle was wearing a green dress with gold embroidered on the top. Gold was wearing a black suit with gold pin on his lapel. They matched.

It was the first time they would dance together, as was expected of the new Earl and Countess of the Frontlands.

When the dance floor cleared and a new song began, Gold took Belle’s gloved hand and brought her to the middle of the dance floor. His cane was still in his hand, but he had mentioned earlier he could still dance. Placing his hand on her waist, he started to lead the dance. Belle was careful with her steps, knowing how clumsy she was. She found they fell perfectly in sync with each other. She hardly had to take glances at her feet. The music faded away. Gold kept his gaze on her and Belle felt she could drown in those beautiful amber eyes.

When the music slowed and the dance stopped, Gold and her stood still, hands clasped together, their eyes not leaving. Belle felt her chest rise and fall as if she had run miles. His mouth was open and for the first time since her wedding day, she wanted to kiss him again. Her husband was handsome.

The clapping of people brought her back to the surface and she let go of Gold. He seemed to not know what to do with his hands. He opted to walk away, excusing himself to get her some champagne.

Belle nodded. She could use the refreshment.

She walked away to the side, off the dancefloor. She noticed how another person came to stand next to her.

“That was a beautiful dance, my Lady.” Belle looked up to see who was speaking. She did not recognize the woman. She had red hair and had blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” She seemed vaguely familiar though.

“Oh my apologies, my name is Penelope. I am the wife of Colin Bridgerton.” She gestured to the corner with the food. “He loves a good snack in between dances.” She smiled at her husband who seemed to take an extra scone.

Belle suddenly understood. Viscount Bridgerton and his wife were the hosts of this party. Colin Bridgerton must be his brother.

“I remember us standing together once at the side of a ballroom a few years ago. Two wallflowers as they called us. And look at us now, both married. Who would have thought?”

Belle smiled, remembering the woman now. “Indeed, I certainly hadn’t seen it coming. But my father arranged it.”

Penelope cocked her head to the side. “You know, it is touching to see you and your husband so smitten with each other. The love was palpable from where everyone else was standing. You are a lucky woman.”

Belle didn’t know an answer to that. Her husband was smitten with her? Love?

Before she could open her mouth, Penelope was called by another lady.

Her husband soon joined her side again to give her the glass of champagne. Refreshments indeed. –

The weeks following the ball and the conversation with Penelope Bridgerton, Belle had noticed how Gold was more open towards her. He no longer avoided her during meals, now they took every meal together. He didn’t run away when they met in the corridor. He invited her in his study to look at his work. He even brought her tea when she was reading in the library. It was very sweet and Belle loved this small attendance. One day, she invited him to read with her. Soon they began talking about the books they were reading. Heavy discussions followed, each sharing their thoughts and opinions. Belle had never met a man who was interested in her thoughts like that. He really listened to her. And when she challenged him, it seemed like he came alive and brought more material to the table. It was wonderful.

And as his library was very large, the conversations never seemed to stop.

This afternoon he was reading from a book called Fairytales. He had opted for the story of Rumplestilskin. To make her laugh, he used silly voices and made extravagant hand gestures.

“And while you are my servant, you will skin the children I hunt.” Belle gasped, not realising the story would turn so dark and her hand that was holding her cup of tea let loose. The cup fell on the ground, spilling the tea over the carpet.

She looked in shock at her husband, while he looked almost sheepishly at her.

“That was a quip, that is not seriously on the page.” “Right,” Belle let out a sigh of relief. She looked down and realised the mess she had made. “Oh, I am so sorry,” she picked the cup up, “ it is chipped.” “It’s no matter. It’s only a cup.” Her husband set the book aside and stood up. “We can fix it.” –

Things only improved for their small family. Bae was home for the holidays and Belle loved nothing more than to sit with her husband and Bae in front of the fire reading stories. Mostly it was Gold who read, but sometimes both father and son looked at her with their big brown puppy eyes to convince her to read. She gladly did.

One evening, Bae was already gone to bed. But Belle wanted to read to her husband. So while going through the study of Gold to get the book for reading -she had left it earlier there in the day while Gold was working- she saw a letter lying on his desk.

Normally she wouldn’t look at his desk, but something about the handwriting caught her off guard. It was her father’s.

Her father had practically never let anything heard from himself after she had married Gold. So it surprised her to see a letter addressed to her husband instead of her.

She read it. And gasped.

Her father had practically sold her in turn for money to raise his standing in society. He was only letting Gold know how much money he still owned him for his daughter. It hurt to see her father write about her like that. Was she nothing more to him? A price for a suitor to be won so he could forget about her and go on about his life?

And her husband… she had known from day one she was only in this marriage for financial reasons, but still Gold had never mentioned anything about this. Was she really only a price in his eyes? She remembered how cold and distant he was in the beginning.

Confused and heartbroken, she went to sit on the settee. – Gold entered the study to see his wife distraught.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” It was the first time he used the endearment, but it slipped from his tongue.

Belle let out a sob. Suddenly, Gold saw the letter she was holding and understood.

Her father had been so cold the day he had gone to ask for Belle’s hand. He knew he was only accepted because he was an Earl. The Baron of Marchland was only too happy to accept it. But he had a price. A steep one. He had wanted everything Gold could offer him to give him the opportunity to further his social standing.

Gold knew he was being blackmailed. But he didn’t care. He realised Belle was surrounded by men who didn’t care about her at all.

He knew he was buying her and hated himself for it. He wanted to give Belle everything she deserved, but he couldn’t even do that. At least he could save her from her fate being married to Gaston. So he did pay the price.

Only, Maurice started to demand more and more money each month. It was exhausting and illegal. Gold knew that, but he was afraid and a coward. At first, he paid because he felt guilty for shackling Belle to be his wife. But lately since they had grown closer, he had realised just how much out of pocket the Baron was acting.

He was planning to put an end to it.

How to explain all of that to his wife? – Belle stared at her husband, her eyes full of tears.

“My father doesn’t care about me.” She sobbed.

“No, he doesn’t,” Gold answered. “I recognize the patterns with my own father now.” He went to sit next to her. “At first, I didn’t realise it, but it’s true.”

And he explained to her what her father had done. What he had done.

She didn’t know why everything surprised her so much. Except the story with Gaston. She had always known he was an oaf.

Gold looked at her and smiled. “I should have told you this sooner. I am sorry, Belle. It was never my intention to do this to you. I have grown to care for you so much and…,” he seemed to breathe in, “I love you. I want only to protect you.”

Belle stopped breathing. “You love me?”

He nodded. “I love you with every beat of my heart. You brought so much life into our home. With me, with Bae. I am so thankful for you, my Belle.”

Belle laughed. The tears still in her eyes, she went to hug her husband. “I love you too!”

She thought back to what Lady Penelope had said. “How is it that it took us this long to admit it to each other?”

Gold laughed. “I genuinely don’t know.” He looked serious suddenly. “May I kiss you, Belle?”

She nodded in her enthusiasm. “Yes, yes!”

And they sealed their lips again. Finally. – It was late in the night. The moonlight shone on their bed. She was finally truly married to Duncan Gold. They had shared their bodies for the first time. Belle hadn’t realised how much she had missed before. She loved being intimate with her husband. He had jokingly suggested they would only make use of one bedchamber together from now on. Still naked, they were cuddling in bed watching the windows. The curtains were still open.

It started snowing heavily.

Gold whispered in her ear. “Bae is going to love this.”

Belle laughed. “What? The snow or us being together?”

Gold kissed her ear. “ Both.”

#Rumbelle secret santa #abovethemists

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tloubraininfection · 1 year

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Ever since we got those mixed messages from Neil and Craig about what the second season is going to be I was thinking about all the changes theyve already made to the story in the show and how they actually make the second game make less sense not more? And how it’s gonna be so much harder to adapt it now. Like:

1.Tommy is about to become a father (or he already is one, not sure how much time has passed). I can`t imagine him abandoning his wife and child do go on a suicide revenge quest. Especially not the way he`s characterized in the series. He was super reluctant to go with Ellie to deliver her the Fireflies and that was a far less dangerous mission and his baby was still not there yet so imagine him in few years’ time.

2.The world of tlou in the series is a far more dangerous place than it was in the game. The infected are so much stronger and they have the hivemind thing and on top of that it has been established that if you run into a bloater you are as good as dead. The same goes for people, they are all ruthless and will try to kill you and they are really good at it. So I just cant imagine Ellie and Dina just waltzing into Seattle and murdering WLF soldiers left and right. The whole thing requires game logic and game suspension of disbelief that is just impossible in the tv show.

3. Again, Ellie alone taking out the whole of Santa Barbara? Is she getting Iron Man suit for that part?

4. In spite of the fact that the creators go on and on about how Ellie likes violence they`ve shown exactly the opposite in the show. The violence she`s experienced is deeply traumatizing to her, she takes no pleasure from killing, she has no secret penchant for torture. How are they going to jump from this to all the f-ed up things Ellie does in tlou2? I mean, sure they can, but like make it make sense.

5. The fact that we got it confirmed in the last episode that Joel had attempted suicide and that Ellie is struggling with suicidal ideation is just all kinds of wrong in the context of the second game. I cant even begin to explain how much it bothers me and why. Luckily I don’t have to, there are people who`ve done it already and far better than I ever could so I`ll just refer you to them:

6. Also just for science, if the world of tlou was every bit as hateful and revenge driven as Neil seems to think how fast would they run out of people, do you think? Like, there`s no way there are still any people alive after 20 years, right? Everyone is someone`s something. The whole thing is just… eh.

All this is my way to convince myself that it cant be that bad, right? Right? I just so want to watch the next season and so not want to relive the trauma of tlou2. But Neil is still holding the steering wheel so all this is useless anyways. But then again, why are they making things harder for themselves? I just want the second season to not be the second game, ok? Just make it anything else, just not that!

#that stupid game is gonna haunt he till I die #i want the museum sequence #and ellie learning that her life hes meaning outside of the immunity #and I want her to do all the super awesome things in Jackson #i want this story to be meaningful #and beautiful #even if its painful sometimes #you know like the first one was #a story about the broken world #and people trying to survive #and still finding beauty in it #still finding love and something to fight for #not a story about how everyone hates everyone else #no thanks #tlou 2 spoilers #the last of us 2 spoilers

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thetarttfuldickhead · 5 months

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A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

19.

Keeley grabbed a third glass of cava from the tray of a passing waiter, and took a slow sip while she surveyed the room. It was brilliant, this; she was glad she’d come. When Celia, her contact at Bantr, suggested she attend the event to “meet a few people, do some networking” Keeley had felt as nervous as she did excited, with some small, insecure part of her fearing that the other guests would dismiss her as a fraud; an upstart; an ex-model wannabe PR guru.

But everyone she’d met had been perfectly nice and respectful and interested, and had treated her just like a real PR consultant.

Which was only fair. She was a real PR consultant. She’d proved that, too, by setting up several meetings with people who might be interested in sponsoring Richmond, or using the players in their campaigns. All in all, a damned good night’s work, if she did say so herself. (Rebecca had also said it, rather more eloquently and with a staggering number of exclamations points, whenever Keeley rushed off to the loo to text her the good news.)

It might have been a perfect night, Keeley thought, if it hadn’t been for her nagging concern over Jamie (and over Roy, who’d been doing better since he started the pundit gig, but who still struggled to adjust to life outside of the pitch and had taken the whole Secret not-Santa Jamie affair surprisingly hard).

She’d convinced Roy to let her be the one to reach out to Jaime after yesterday’s ill-fated confrontation, but so far Jamie hadn’t returned either her calls or her texts. Well, he hadn’t half an hour ago, at any rate—

Keeley picked up her phone to check, but there was nothing from Jamie. From Roy, however, she had several messages. She opened the conversation, and felt her eyes widen as she read:

Something’s come up and I’m heading back to my place.

Can you come?

I’m bringing Jamie.

Keeley blinked at the screen, and then blinked at it again. The message still said the same thing, compelling her to type out a not entirely unserious reply in a vain attempt to ease her sudden sense of foreboding.

in a body bag?

Roy’s response was immediate.

We’re not fighting.

But he’s a mess and I need your help with him.

Sorry, I know you’ve got that mingle thing.

But can you come?

“Fucking hell,” Keeley muttered, but she was already draining her glass and walking toward the exit. What the fuck was Roy doing with Jamie after they’d agreed it was better if Keeley were the one to talk to him? And why was Jamie a mess if him and Roy weren’t fighting?

And, most importantly of all, how long would the “not fighting” bit last?

She had better get there fast.

---

As it turned out, she must have been closer to Roy’s house than Roy was, or else her Lyft driver was better at navigating London traffic, because Keeley arrived at Tregunter Road before Roy did. She’d no more than let herself in, though, before the door opened again behind her and Jamie, immediately followed by Roy, stepped inside.

Keeley gave a little gasp at the sight of Jamie. There was a small bruise and cut on his forehead, and his eyes were suspiciously red and puffy. Keeley looked to Roy, who hastily shook his head. “Wasn’t me, babe. His arsehole dad stopped by.”

“I fell,” Jamie muttered. He sounded sullen, but the way he was fidgeting with his sleeves suggested nerves or embarrassment rather than resentment.

“He fell because his arsehole dad shoved him,” Roy elaborated.

“Oh.” Jamie hadn’t told her all that much about his dad when they were together, but from what little she’d gained, arsehole sounded about right. She hadn’t known it came with shoving, though. Or worse. “Hey, babe,” she said, walking up to Jamie and reaching out to gently brush a few strands of loose hair out of his eyes, coaxing him to look at her. “You doing all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Just… I mean, things with me dad, they’re a bit shit, but I’m fine, you know. It’s just scratches, this, it’s nothing.” He gestured toward his forehead. There were plasters on his hand, she noticed, and was surprised by how angry the sight of them made her feel. Angry, and heartbroken for the deprecating, resigned way by which he brandished them.

Jamie must have seen some of it on her face, because his weak attempt at a smile faded entirely, and he drew back a little, averting his eyes. Keeley’s heart twinged in sympathy.

“Oh, Jamie,” she said, and then, without really thinking about it, she drew him into a tight hug. After a moment of hesitation, he went willingly, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. He was warm against her, solid in the same way Roy was solid, but unlike Roy he gave himself completely over to the hug, melting into her touch as she ran her hand over his back.

“We’ve got you, babe,” Keeley murmured into his hair. It smelled just the way she remembered it, clean and sweet with spicy notes of fennel leaf and eucalyptus from his Aesop shampoo.

It stirred something within her, that smell, and the feeling of his familiar body pressed against her. She smiled, a little ruefully. Pavlovian.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” Roy said behind them. “You two get comfortable on the couch.”

So Roy wanted a moment to himself but wanted her to stay with Jamie, then. Fair enough. Keeley wouldn’t have minded the chance to talk to Roy in private, get some more details on what the hell was going on, but she could see why he’d think keeping an eye on the younger man might be a good idea; though subdued, there was a skittishness to Jamie that rather gave the impression he might bolt if left to his own devices.

“Yeah, that sounds good, doesn’t it, Jamie?” she said, releasing him from the hug but putting a hand on his arm to steer him toward the sitting room. “Come on, it’s right through here. And I swear, even though it looks like it’s made for people who hate to feel good, Roy’s couch is actually really comfortable.”

Granted, she hadn’t spent too much time on it, as they tended to stay over at hers rather than Roy’s, but there’d been enough evenings curled up in front of a show while Roy made her dinner in what he termed “a properly stocked kitchen” for her to have brought a few pillows (in shades of grey and dark purple, in deference to the black leather) and a huge, soft, pink blanket (in deference to Keeley’s own happiness). (Roy had narrowed his eyes at the blanket, but hadn’t made any protests.)

Keeley sat down, patting the cushion right next to her. Jamie obediently took his assigned seat, and she didn’t hesitate to tug him closer, until he was leaning on her with his head resting on her shoulder. As she began to run her fingers through his hair, noticing how much longer the strands were than the last time she did this, he gave a shuddering little sigh.

Jamie had always loved to be held.

They sat like that for a while, talking quietly about a bit of this and that, Armani’s new line and Keeley’s job, while the tension slowly but surely left Jamie and he grew more and more relaxed against her—until the sound of steps in the hallway announced Roy’s imminent arrival.

Jamie made to sit up, seemingly concerned about the other man walking in on him half-draped over his girlfriend, but Keeley tightened her grip to hold him in place. Roy had asked her here to help with Jamie; he could hardly object to her doing just that.

As it were, Roy didn’t bat a lid. “Didn’t know if you took milk,” was all he said as he put the tea tray down on the coffee table.

“Uh, yeah, usually, yeah, but it’s fine without.”

Roy didn’t respond, but added a splash of milk from a small jug to one of the cups and handed it to Jamie, and then gave Keeley another before joining them on the couch.

Jamie lifted his mug to his lips, only to immediately lower it again after the first tentative sip. “There’s sugar in this,” he said accusingly, looking at Roy like he suspected the man of trying to poison him.

Roy looked… slightly embarrassed, Keeley noted with some interest and some amusement. “It’s supposed to be soothing, you prick,” he growled, but without any real heat. “My grandad used to make it like that when I was upset. Your next game isn’t until Saturday anyway, one cup of sweet tea won’t do much damage.”

“Oh. All right.” Jamie tried the tea again. “It’s good,” he allowed. “Thanks. And,” he added hesitantly after a moment, “thanks for, you know, doing this. Letting me be here. I never… I mean, you didn’t have to do that, and I know you were upset about the gifts and all that.”

Keeley looked up, meeting Roy’s eyes over Jamie’s head. He looked uncertain, which was a rare but not altogether unpleasant look on his handsome face. He didn’t say anything but gave her a little nod, go on.

“We weren’t upset, Jamie,” Keeley began, but paused as Jamie snorted and Roy rolled his eyes. “Okay, so Roy was a little upset,” she amended. “But mostly because we were confused, yeah? You never got along with Roy and suddenly you’re doing all these really nice things for him and not telling anyone about it and that’s sweet, you know, but it’s also really fucking weird.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was a bit mad I guess, yeah.”

He sounded more sheepish about it than upset, and Keeley smiled. “Little bit, yeah,” she agreed. Then she sobered. ”And I’m sorry things got weird the other day. I just thought it’d be good for us to talk things through, you know? But, I shouldn’t have tricked you into coming over to my place like that, making you think we’d be working on your brand. We could still do that later, if you want.”

At that, he twisted his head to look at her, a small, hopeful smile on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure. It’ll be fun.” It would too. Her skills had developed considerably since the last time she’d helped him with his PR, and there was no denying that she felt a tiny, professional thrill at the thought of finding out just what she might accomplish with Jamie Tartt now that she was a bit more experienced. And God knew his brand could do with some polishing, after the Lust Conquers All debacle.

For the first time that night, Jamie’s grin was undiminshed and genuine. “Mint.”

“Great! We’ll set something up for after New Year’s, then. A proper meeting this time, I promise. Before that, though… think you can explain it to us, babe? About the gifts?”

He looked away from her. For a long time he didn’t answer, just played with his rings while considering, and sneaking the occasional glance at Roy.

Thankfully, Roy kept quiet.

“Yeah,” Jamie said eventually. “Yeah, all right.”

#every time i sit down to write a new chapter i'm like #'oh but this will be a properly short one'#AND YET THEY NEVER ARE #i'd not be unhappy about this if it weren't for the fact that i am now litterally running out of time #chances are that tomorrow's chapter till just be the synopsis i wrote for it #namely 'roy has a lot of feelings about what jamie's told them'#keeley jones #jamie & keeley #jamie's christmas carol #my stuff #fic

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desolateice · 10 months

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Cut because I rewrote it, ending of Wisteria Sherbet

So this is a spoiler for the end I ended up changing it and because it’s the end of the fic I’ll preface that under the cut. It’s from around chapter 28/29 of Wisteria Sherbert. Please note that the content beneath this cut is from an E or explicit a/b/o fic.

I was torn when writing the ending for @gjdraws‘s secret santa. On the one hand love a good rescue, on the other hand Johnny also kicking ass is important and I went with the latter when I made the final choice. I also wanted to showcase all the hardwork the kids were doing inside to save him. So it ended up being changed and slowed down over a couple of chapters.

I also just really wanted people to show up for him in that awful parking lot.

-----

“Silver!”

Johnny turned at the voice, at Daniel’s shout, at the smell of anger, pure undiluted hatred rolling off of him that was so strong it stung Johnny’s eyes and nose.

“Danny-boy!” Silver said. “I should’ve known you’d be around? How’ve you been?”

“Better if you get your hands off my mate before I rip them off,” Daniel growled.

Murderous.

That was the smell in the air.

Silver laughed, a warm chuckle, like he was dealing with an angry small child throwing a tantrum.

“Daniel, I can’t. There’s nothing official, in the eyes of the law, while omega’s aren’t property any more…Johnny owes me, he is so deeply in debt to me that between a claim as a mate and his debt, his debt is more important. You know that, you know how much he’s in debt. I��m acting within my legal rights. But this fire, this anger, delightful as always. But don’t worry, after about four kids, once he’s for sale again I’ll let you know. You can buy him for a couple hours. Maybe, if I’m feeling lenient, earlier. But really, John’s waiting at home, has been waiting. And he hates waiting.”

Johnny frowned looking at the ground, unable to raise his head to meet Daniel’s gaze. This was why he’d kept away, because at the end of the day, the debt, money, won out over anything else.

Johnny had tried, once, to escape, to go to the police, but a very tired officer sent him from one person to another, until he finally found someone to talk to who explained that debt, like his, was iron tight. Omegas weren’t sold, not really, not any more. They had rights and were just like everyone else. Unless they were in debt. And then, the law sided with the holder of the debt, every damn time.

He’d read story after story after story in that cramped office filled with papers, trying to find a case where it wasn’t that way and the lawyer had looked so regretful at him that it’d made him sick. That the only way he could stay safe, within the confines of the law was if he wasn’t presenting. Because it was the only loop hole. Only children hadn’t presented, only children didn’t have a scent, but as long as he hadn’t, Silver had had to wait. And now, now he’d leave his own kid, his own mate and maybe he would be able to retire in 15 years. But his kids would be grown up, his students would’ve forgotten him and Daniel would move on and find another mate.

He really hated this fucking parking lot.

“Here,” Daniel said, voice tight with anger. “I’ve raised 1/2 of it. Give me an account and I’ll send it now. I’ll figure out how to get the rest of it soon. Just need a little more time.”

Johnny’s head snapped up, looking at Daniel who held up his phone, an obscenely high number on it. He looked at Silver whose fingers dug into his shoulder.

“The number went up Danny-boy. John’s medical bills were added to the tab. I must say, your temper really has gotten away from you. What would that old Japanese man think?”

“Okinawan,” Johnny said, corrected, wincing as Silver’s nails dug in.

Silver hated being corrected and he knew the promise in that grip. He’d misbehaved and would have to relearn all his lessons.

“Well, how much is it now?” Daniel asked.

Johnny watched his face fall at the number, only for a moment before he started thinking, planning, trying to come up with a solution like he always did. But there was no solution.

“I can accept the money, pay off part of his debt,” Silver said warmly, like he was doing Daniel a big favor. “We’ll just do three children then. And John and I will just see which one takes for the third one. We’ll keep in touch Daniel,” Silver said, pulling Johnny along, towards the shiny car he hated, the nice one that always smelled so much like Silver it made him feel ill.

“Wait!”

“Oh what now? Do you know how late we already are?” Silver asked, hand a vice grip on Johnny.

“We raised more money than that,” Sam said, running across the parking lot.

“After school babysitting money and bake sales aren’t going to cut it,” Silver said.

“I know,” Sam said turning towards Miguel who looked out of breath a bag in his arms.

He held it out and Silver took it with a frown.

“You expect me to sit here and count this all now?”

“You can’t take him,” Miguel said.

Silver sighed, “Go sit in the car.”

Johnny obeyed, slipping into the backseat, frowning at the box with his name on it. He poked it open, frowning at the black and white uniform. He hated the dress up games. He shut the box again and turned to look out the window, at the crowd that had gathered.

His friends, the other dojos, the committee.

They weren’t leaving like he’d expected. They weren’t heading home to celebrate and lick the wounds of their defeat. They were waiting, watching for Silver to count his money. And he did, carefully, every dollar, coin and check in the bag Miguel had handed him, his frown deepening as he did so.

Silver opened the door with a sigh, leaning down to look at Johnny, reaching out and cupping the side of his face.

“It would’ve been nice to have made our games reality. To see what sort of champions our combined DNA would’ve made. Be good to your mate, the amount of money they rose to pay off your debt is no small thing. Make lots of little LaRusso babies for him while you still can.”

Johnny frowned, pulling back and away from Silver, until Silver was pulled away, back from where he was blocking the door and Daniel was glaring at Silver, anger rolling off of him in heavy waves, reaching into the car, into the backseat and reaching out for him, pulling him out of the car.

“It’s paid fully right?” Bobby asked. “There’s no strings?”

“No Mr. Brown,” Silver said. “You all raised enough.” He sighed and rubbed his temple. “Maybe John will be happy if I pick up a puppy and bring it home, though it won’t look good in the outfit I bought.”

Daniel was holding him close, arms tight around him, prickly and pissed and daring anyone to come close, to take Johnny, eyes glaring down Silver.

“Well I suppose you’ve also paid for all of his things too, so I’ll send them to your place…or one of the offices?” Silver said stooping down to reach into the backseat, grabbing the box and holding it out to Daniel.

Daniel didn’t make a move to take it, but Amanda did, hooking it under her arm and placing a comforting hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

They didn’t move until Silver left and Daniel stepped back, cupping Johnny’s face in his hands.

“That scared the shit out of me. Why the hell didn’t you call for help or run? Why didn’t you fight him off? Did you want to leave with him?”

“Hell no,” Johnny said.

“What do you want to do now?”

“I want to celebrate with my students.”

#cut scenes and rewrites #wisteria sherbert #i think i have two more cut scenes/rewrites for this one

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brightdrawings · 1 year

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Crystal Meet Cute

My secret Santa gift for @mother-ofthe-universe. They wanted something to do with their Stanley Universe Au. And my fiddstan heart felt kinship for a scene they described. They enjoyed it so I hope you all enjoy it too (and be sure to check out their work too, they have some really fun au's)

(also on ao3!)

Fiddleford gave a heavy sigh. Greasy's diner wasn’t the best place to eat. As is the name, the food was greasy, and the coffee was too watery. Then again, that isn’t why most people came out to this diner in the middle of the town. At least Fiddleford dearly hoped no one was coming out to Greasy’s for the food. For most it was a convenient and criminally cheap place to eat.

But for Fiddleford McGucket, a visit to Greasy’s in the morning was a chance to socialize. Working with Stanford Pines wasn’t bad, he was his best friend after all. However, knowing Stanford as well as he did, he knew the man was averse to meeting people, and heaven forbid he spoke with them. And while he did love his friend dearly, there was only so many times he could talk about their latest research notes or their next DDmD game plan.

Fiddleford needed to talk to people, different people, new people. And while the townsfolk were odd, they were at least interesting for conversation. From the fellow southerner who ran the car dealership, to the loud lumberjack, even the aspiring news presenter entered through Greasy’s always open doors. Everyone had their own lives with their own stories to share. And Fiddleford enjoyed listening to each and every one. He was more than eager to share some of his own. It helped break down the confusion surrounding Stanford and his research, and in some instances made it worse.

Unfortunately today was shaping up to be a rather quiet morning. Winter in Oregon was harsher than some places. And this morning seemed worse than usual, 6 inches of snow with more expected throughout the day, made it no wonder as to why the diner was empty. It seemed that most of the town was taking their time in getting out of bed. Fiddleford wasn’t afforded that luxury as his roommate and employer had a strict schedule for observing nature, and any desire to avoid frostbite was considered irrelevant.

He was ready to pick himself up, and leave the empty diner when the door opened. Working for a few months in Gravity Falls had gotten Fiddleford used to the locals, even to the oddities that tried to blend in among them, but the man who walked through the diner door was not something or one he had seen before. He had long curled hair that reached his back, a familiar square jaw and a cheeky grin. But the oddest part, from where Fiddleford stood at least, was the fact that the man was walking around in a T-shirt in this blistering cold.

“Heya Susan!” the man called in a gravelly voice. “Give me the usual. With extra sugar.”

“Comin’ right up Stan.” Susan called back with her usual cheerful tone.

He walked into the diner, taking a seat a couple of booths down from Fiddleford. Looking down at his coffee, Fiddleford felt a wave of curiosity and sympathy wash over him. He picked up his mug and made his way to this ‘Stan’. He stopped next to the booth before speaking. “Mornin’ Stan.” Fiddlefod said with his friendliest smile. “Is this seat taken?”

“Mornin’ to you too Mac, how’d you get my name?” Stan said, he reached a hand into his pocket and gave Fiddleford a quick once over.

“Hard to miss it with Susan yellin’ it across the diner.” Fiddleford chuckled. “I don’t have time to come to town for long, so I try to talk to anyone I can before I have to go back to work.”

“Yeah, yeah. take a seat if you want.” Stan withdrew his hand from his pocket and pointed to the seat opposite him. His attention engrossed in the worn out menu in front of him.

“What’s your usual? If’n you don’t mind me asking.” Fiddleford took his seat, placing his coffee on the table.

“Black.” Stan said flatly.

“Smart, smart. The coffee here don’t taste too good if you ask me.” Fiddleford spoke behind his hand. Not wanting to hurt Susan’s feelings with his words.

“Like having sex on a canoe.” Stan rolled his eyes. “So what’s your name Mr. Talks-a-lot.”

“My name is Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.” Fiddleford proudly offered his hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Nice to meet you too, Fidds.” Stan hardly looked up from his menu. Fiddleford could see that the other man was scanning through the page quickly. His eyes went from price then to menu item. Watching someone else in a similar situation to him when he was in college hurt Fiddleford’s heart. He was about to say something else when something on the back of Stan’s menu caught his eyes, and an idea sparked to life in his mind.

“Susan!” Fiddleford called. “Can I get two plates of waffles please?”

“Comin’ Right up Fiddleford!” Susan replied

“You sure a string bean like you can eat more than one?” Stan smirked.

“Oh one’s for you Stan.” Fiddleford smirked.

“Hey hey, I ain't got the dough for something like that.” Stan said quickly. He placed both hands on the table.

“No no! Don’t worry. This is on me.” He flipped over Stan’s menu and pointed at a post-it note that had a ‘2 for 1’ deal written on it.

“The hell’s this?” Stan scoffed.

“Just between us, but I heard a rumor that these menus were real pricey for Susan to get printed. So when she has specials and people don’t read the board, she puts notes on the menus to get more people buyin’ food.” Fiddleford whispered behind his hand.

“How do I know you didn’t stick this one when I wasn't looking?” Stan raised an eyebrow. “You were the only other guy here before I walked in.”

“How would I know which booth you could sit in and plant a note there?”Fiddleford asked. “What am I Psychic?”

“I know a couple, that’s more likely than you think.” Stan squinted.

“There’s an easy solution for this.” Fiddleford turned to the window to the kitchen. “Susan, is the 2 for 1 still available?”

“Yessire!” Susn replied cheerfully. She waved her spatula at Fiddleford to punctuate her cheer.

“Right. Yeah okay. So long as I don’t gotta pay for nothin’ I guess I don’t mind.” Stan slipped back in his seat. He turned his gaze away from the cheerful southerner.

“Trust me, the food might live up to the name and the coffee might not be great but they’re better together than alone.” Fiddleford said.

“I heard that Gucket.” Susan said bitterly from the kitchen.

“Sorry Susan.” Fiddleford said, his ears turning red while Stan chuckled at his embarrassment.

The pair sat together, patiently waiting for their food to arrive. As expected it was greasy and would have been much better if made at home. But a full stomach of greasy waffles was preferable to an empty stomach. There was also that added benefit of losing some of the tension Fiddleford felt surrounding Stan like a protective mist. Once their food was eaten, their watery coffee drank and their bill paid, the pair left the diner together.

“Don’t you got some job you gotta go to?” Stan asked as they walked through the town. Several stores had lifted their shutters and were finally opening their doors to customers.

“Why do you ask Stan?” Fiddleford wore a cheeky grin. “Eager to get rid of me?”

“No but I don't want your boss to give you any shit for being late or nothing.” Stan said. He chewed his cheek.

“Don’t worry about that. If my ‘boss’ gets upset about me talking with people in town then he should get off his high horse and finally take a break.” Fiddleford bumped Stan’s with his elbow.

“Sounds like he’s got a stick up there.” Stan smirked.

“He does sometimes.” Fiddleford nodded.

“Reminds me of someone.” Stan sighed.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’m nowhere near that cheap,” Stan said with a small smirk.

“I’ll make sure to save up for next time then.” Fiddleford smiled in return.

The pair walked in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Fiddleford came to a complete halt.

“You okay string bean?” Stan asked.

“Stanley, could you wait a moment?” Fiddleford didn’t wait for the other man’s response. Instead he dashed into a store a few places in front of them.

It took a few minutes but Fiddleford soon returned, with a large paper bag in hand and a wide grin on his face. He looked around and found Stanley leaning against a tree, hands in pockets and eyes in the sky. Fiddleford was quick to walk over to Stanley and handed him the paper bag.

“What’s this?” Stanley asked. “I already told you Fidds I ain't got dough on me.”

“You’re walking around in a T-shirt in the middle of winter.” Fiddleford put his hands on his hips. “I know that some men say that they don’t ‘feel the cold’ when they reach a certain age but my Ma don’t believe in such a thing and neither do I.”

“That’s nice and all, but I still can’t pay you back.” Stan repeated.

“It’s a gift.” Fiddleford said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I dunno, feels kinda weird.” Stan said.

“Did ya turn down gifts from Santa?”Fidds asked

“I’m Jewish”

“Did you turn down gifts from your family on Hanukkah?” Fidds insisted, unwavering in his generosity.

“Alright alright!” Stan rolled his eyes. “Just don’t make a scene.”

Fiddleford watched eagerly as Stan opened the paperbag and removed his gift. It was a thick jacket with red sleeves and a hood. On the forearm of each sleeve was an orange fin. There was a long fin that ran along the back and on to the hood of the jacket. The hood also had a pair of large cartoon-y eyes. The chest of the jacket had a gradient that went from purple to blue. The fabric all over had a scale pattern, bringing the fish look of the jacket together.

“What the hell am I looking at?” Stan asked, unable to stop himself chuckling.

“That store has some of the best novelty outfits and stuff you can find.” Fiddleford said with an ear to ear grin. “I bought my boss a pineapple Hawaiian shirt with a pair of pink palm tree sunglasses to match from that store.”

“That sounds awful.” Stan chuckled.

“He said the same thing.” Fiddleford said. “So, do you like it?”

“Let me try it on first.” Stan said. “Gotta make sure the teeth aren’t inside to stab me.”

“I think that’s the role of the zipper.”

Fiddleford watched as Stanley slipped the jacket over his thin T-shirt. It hung a little loosely on his body, but Fiddleford could see a small smile spread across Stan’s mouth as the warmth of the jacket began to spread across his body.

“Weeell?” He asked, unable to hide his giddy grin

“It’s nice.” Stan said in a quiet voice. “Real nice.”

Fiddleford gave Stan a firm handshake and wished him well. He quickly made his way to his car to return to his work. What he didn't see as he pulled out and waved one more goodbye to Stan was the man desperately trying to hold back his tears at the first real gift he’s received in years.

#Gravity Falls #Gravity Falls Fic #Stanley Pines #Stan pines #fiddleford mcgucket #Fiddleford Hardon McGucket #Old Man McGucket #Fiddstan #Fiddlestan #Stanley Universe #Grunkle Stan #Stan isn't exactly his mullet age in this #but a little younger #Fidds really needs to force Ford to get out more #hope y'all enjoy

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screaming-in-the-streets · 1 year

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my submission for malloysical secret santa!

(also available on ao3)

this is my first (published) fan-fiction, so lmk if there’s better ways to format/ make accessible

written for @lobotomy-jpeg

The first time Rose saw the Knight, she was more surprised than anything. She knew the likes that came into the establishment, and this one… wasn't one of them. Suits of armor didn’t belong in speakeasies. And then, when the Knight took off the helmet, the face held an even more out of place air. There was purity to it, a knowledge of what to do next, a light that made Rose want to follow into battle– until the Knight shifted, and the person looked just as tired and world-weary as any of the other patrons. Just as well, Rose thought to herself, I know what to do with weariness.

The Knight sat at a barstool in front of Rose with an air of exhaustion– no, more than that. This was a husk of a person now. The knight glanced up at Rose with big, doe-brown eyes, and smiled a sad, empty smile, and asked quietly if there was any gin in stock. Rose could feel herself blushing. Blushing? Since when did patrons, no matter how gallant, ever make Rose blush? She shook the thoughts off, and tended to the Knight.

That night, Rose dreamt of a bear and the knight– the knight was fighting the bear— or was the bear fighting the knight? There was a man there Rose did not recognize who was screaming at the knight– wasn’t he? Why was the stranger screaming “Pearl”? Why did Rose feel so angry? The bear turned from the knight and charged at Rose. Both the stranger and the knight cried out. Why did either of them care if she got hurt? She hardly knew the one, and didn’t know the other at all? Why wasn’t she afraid of the bear galloping towards her? The bear roared as it approached. He was coming faster and faster, closer and closer. Why wasn’t she running away? Was it that she couldn’t? Wouldn’t? Rose steeled herself, trying to stand firm for the oncoming impact. The bear was close, she could feel it’s breath, hot and heavy on her face. It’s jaw opened, wider, wider, until Rose was sure it could open no further. The bear lunged, and as the moment of impact stared her down

She awoke with a start, sweating and panting. All she could remember was the overwhelming need for honey.

The next day was as dusty and gray as any before it. The Knight returned, once again, tired and woeful. The Knight– named Soldier, she said– and Rose made small talk over the moonshine Rose poured. In a lull of conversation, Rose remembered her dream.

“Do you know anything about honey?” she asked Soldier, not really expecting an answer. After the initial shock wore off of the Knight’s face, she slowly reached into a pouch at her belt and pulled out a thin, clear vial filled with golden liquid.

“In my time,” Soldier explained ruefully, “Our generals gave us these. They said they were filled with God’s blood that he spilled to encourage us that our bloodshed wasn’t in vain. Never stopped to question why we followed a god who could bleed…” The knight’s face twisted some, and then smoothed over with a shake of her head. “Regardless, one of the others broke, and then we all realized what it actually was. It was too late by then, the war had run its course, on our side and the other. No one won.” Soldier’s face had gone dark again, and Rose thought of the boys who had come home from their war–and the ones who hadn’t come home– and understood far more than the knight said.

Rose had almost expected a dream that night, but the crashing visions that overcame her felt more like memories than stories made inside her head. This time, there was no bear, but instead a dimly lit treehouse. Rose could hear laughter filtering from the window, the crash of waves on the beach. Despite the apparent calm, Rose felt unsettled, angry. She ascended to the treehouse, each step pushing the anger further and further into her veins until she burst through the door. The only thing she could feel was rage, white-hot and burning.

“You.” Rose couldn’t tell if she was screaming at the woman– Pearl, she knew her this time, her sister, how could she— or the man— the man, the Astronomer, her former lover, the man who took what was hers and passed it off as his own. God, it felt like she didn’t know anything other than the fury that burned inside her chest, the pounding of her heart against her ribcage, the agony behind it all. All she knew was these two would pay.

When Rose awoke, she knew what she had to do.

That night at the bar, they had a band playing. It was a small affair, playing songs that did nothing to alleviate the heaviness that settled with the night. When the Knight arrived, Rose felt the same spark of rage light inside her chest. She needed Soldier gone, and she needed that vial. She took her onto the dance floor, in the hopes that proximity would allow Rose to get to the vial. She was spinning in the dust with this stranger and all she could see is her sister’s face– but it wasn’t her but it was her and everything felt heavy and the knight was crying and Rose couldn’t stop and couldn’t reach the vial and everything was heavy and she felt the gun she had snuck under her skirt beat against her leg and—

Rose froze. She turned quickly, taking the steps out the back way, into the dark alley, in the hopes of seeing the stars, of gaining some sense, of catching her breath– Rose didn’t know what she had hoped for. Was she really going to kill some stranger because of some dream she’d had? No, no, that would be crazy, that would be wrong, she wouldn’t do that, would she? Could she? She wrenched the gun out, staring at the black metal. She spiraled, unsure of anything, when a gentle hand touched her back

“Rose,” Soldier whispered, with a look that felt knowing and forgiving and permissive. “Rose.” And with that, the Knight pulled her against her chestplate, wrapped in a hug: a hug of warmth and of friendship, a hug of understanding. Both of them seemed to be weeping, and Rose felt as if she’d known this Soldier all her life, all of her lives, and knew she loved this one more than anything, that this one loved her, and that was all that mattered. The flash of light startled both of them, and Soldier staggered back against the alleyway wall. “O-oh. Oh Rose,” the Knight looked up at Rose. “I’ll see you in the next one,” and the look on Soldier’s face was the same as the first glance— surety, purity— until it faded, leaking through a hole in the silver armor.

Rose was never sure if the gun had gone off on purpose. All she knew is the blood stained vial in her fingers felt heavier than lead.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/43603726 the link I think?)

#ghost quartet #Dave Malloy #soldierrose #malloysical secret santa 2022

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glowyjellyfish · 1 year

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…and I just finished Ducktales! Here are some semi-random notes on episodes roughly in order:

1. Okay, i’ll admit I am a little sick of kids’ shows always feeling obliged to stick a Real Santa in, but Ducktales did it perfectly. Super appreciate that they even made Santa a contemporary of Scrooge, because what could be more fitting or accurate?

2. The last Fenton episode was great, poor tiny anxious Huey. And Fenton was not faring much better but at least he had a girlfriend to show for it. Also, Mark Beaks acting like a stalker with a crush towards Gizmoduck, which is peak Beaks right there. And I loooove that Huey brought in Louie to lie for him, and didn’t even think to tell him about Fenton! Lol Dewey knew because he was right there when Gizmoduck debuted, Huey figured it out quickly when Gizmoduck was in front of him fighting crime, and Louie never even had a scene with Fenton or Gizmoduck until that moment did he? L O L.

3. I am still a little bit salty that the Talespin episode didn’t even mention Launchpad, but i get why now, it was all about following in the footsteps of the mentors and there really wasn’t room for Launchpad. I will just politely headcanon that Stunt Pilot Molly Cunningham is friendly rivals with Launchpad’s sister. And maybe that Della got home and promptly told Launchpad he is no longer the worst pilot she’s ever met.

4. I’m impressed how many flashbacks they crammed into The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck! And also, Poe! I don’t think even 1987 Ducktales ever gave us Person Poe. Aw how cool. I feel pretty bad for Magica with that story. Scrooge really was a bit of a dick to her, and I’m glad that’s the one he owned up and took responsibility for. As an Animorphs fan, you really do not want to accidentally lose a loved one in bird form. Birds have short short lives.

5. THE FINALE.

A. Definitely felt like we suddenly hit fast forward and had to cram a ton in at crazy speeds, but Ducktales pulled it off!

B. I cannot BELIEVE they crammed a gargoyles reference in there too, Frank Angones you madman. With the addition of Keith David this truly was the correct thing to watch after I finished Community s6. It was practically the same cast!

C. Impeccable division of teams, so that everybody went up against the appropriate villain, teams were logical, and banter was beautiful

D. DARKWING AND GIZMODUCK AND LAUNCHPAD. OMG. I still would like to have approximately twelve seasons worth of bantering between Darkwing and Gizmoduck, and Fenton and Drake, and all combinations in between. Launchpad is everybody’s sidekick, EXCEPT WHEN HE PUTS ON THE GIZMO SUIT AND GETS TO SHINE. AWWWW LAUNCHPAD.

E. Okay I’m going to ramble about Launchpad some more for just a minute here. First, Launchpad’s subconscious has been struggling to tell everyone this intel the whole time??? And without his double-o mission they would have been stuck at square one?!? HOORAY LAUNCHPAD HELPED! Also, who is the first character to say “isn’t family the greatest adventure of all?” or most of it at least, that’s right, Launchpad! He is the HEART and I love him and I am very proud of him.

F. Back to Fenton and Drake, I am now going to assume that both of my suggested scenarios happened. Fenton had a long day and said something like “ugh, don’t even talk to me about Gizmoduck!”, then Drake took that as his cue to start griping about Gizmoduck, and Fenton just awkwardly agreed to be polite at first, and Drake was like “haha, yes! He clearly hates Gizmoduck too! My new buddy!” Also, I find it hilarious that Darkwing refuses to consider the possibility that Fenton is Gizmoduck, possibly because he likes Fenton too much? Which is great. I loved the classic versions getting on each other’s nerves every which way in Tiff of the Titans, but this is an extremely lovable dynamic as well. Especially that Fenton got frustrated enough to try to just tell him. These guys are terrible at secret identities, and yet still Fenton somehow managed to have one from Drake, and from Louie. Somehow.

G. Hooray, I finally know the thing about Webby properly! And yes, there was a TON of foreshadowing and themes about nature vs nurture all over the place throughout this show, omg! Especially as other clones we have seen on the show were (usually?) exact duplicates, while there is no question that Webby is fully her own person, despite having clear streaks of Scrooge in her. Which, to be fair, also could have just come from growing up around him! I wish there was more time to get to know May and June, and I love the way Beakley just kinda… bluescreened and went off on her own over Webby.

H. Seeing Scrooge and Donald and Della together in action was glorious. Surely we saw it before, can’t remember, buuuuut still glorious.

I. also aaaaaaaa Huey’s woodchucking skills saving the day, the parallel with the villain coming together nicely

J. and all the kids getting to shine too!

Okay, I’m sure I forgot a ton of important stuff as I just sat down and started rambling. Now I can look at TVTropes and the whole rest of tumblr and AO3 and everything!

#Ducktales 2017

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cyncerity · 2 years

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Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!

I finally got my Secret Santa done! And my secret Santa was…

✨@melissa-s23✨

I absolutely adore her writing and art and I really hope she enjoys this 😊💖

@mcyt-gt-events

tw: none, just fluff

Coming home for the holidays was supposed to be a relaxing time, especially getting a break from the utter hell that college could be. But something felt…of this year. Like there was something being kept from him.

Quackity sighed as he looked out the window of his old bedroom, which Sam had been kind enough to leave relatively unbothered once he left for college. The little kid things had been moved into a storage bin, but all his old furniture, posters, and pictures remained, usually bringing him a sense of comfort after so long away from home. But now they just reminded him of what he used to have.

Sam and Quackity had always been close. They had clicked the moment they had met, when he was 6 years old and Sam first fostered him. It had only been a month when Sam had decided to adopt Quackity, at only 19 years old. And Sam worked hard to make it work, and Quackity couldn’t have been happier. But that had all changed a few months into his freshman year of college. He tried to call Sam as often as he could, but there was just so much to do. Eventually calling became nearly impossible, and it broke his heart every time he had to decline a call from his best friend/dad.

Until one day, something weird happened. Quackity finally, finally, had the opportunity to call, and no one answered. He called again. Nothing. He must’ve called 50 times, and nothing until an hour later. A text that read “Sorry, I was busy. I’ll try to call again soon.”

That was the start of their relationship growing farther and farther apart. Quackity was now a sophomore in college, and he hadn’t even seen Sam in almost a year. He tried to come over for the holidays during break his freshman year, but there were apparently problems at the construction company he ran, and they’d “try to meet up over the summer.” It never happened. But finally, fucking finally, Sam said that Quackity should come over for the holidays to catch up. And they had. The conversation when Sam had first opened the door to let Quackity in that morning had started off a bit awkward (ok, maybe more than a bit), but had quickly resolved into their old way of talking to each other. And after hours on an airplane and then hours of conversation with the man he had missed more than anyone, he went to his room to try and fall asleep. Which he should probably try to do, instead of staring out a window and feeling sorry for himself. He pushed himself off the windowsill and went to go put on his pjs, but his mind kept drifting back to Sam. Why hadn’t they talked in so long? What had Sam been doing? He had assumed that the sudden radio silence had been because Sam wanted to distance himself, but the joy on his face at having seen Quackity walk through the front door for the first time in so long disproved that theory. So what had happened? And as Quackity desperately tried to figure out what was going on, his brain decided to be more focused on sleep than the possible problems with his father. So he fell asleep, hoping that those answers would work themselves out soon enough.

*********

Quackity shot awake at the sound of glass shattering. He frantically switched on a light switch as he tried to figure out where the noise came from, until his eyes landed on a certain shelf in his room where he noticed a picture frame missing. That was until his eyes trailed to the floor and saw it face down with glass pieces scattered around it. Quackity sighed, to tired to deal with any of this, and just used the frame to swipe most of the big glass pieces into a pile and set the photo back on the shelf, when he felt something warm brush against his fingers, which he would have just assumed was his tired mind playing tricks on him had it not yelped at the contact.

Quackity pulled back his hand and frantically moved the other frames over, expecting to see a mouse or possibly even a rat. What he had not been expecting were two very small boys, both frozen in terror. They stared at each other for a few seconds before one of the boys grabbed the other and tried to make a run for it. But Quackity was faster, grabbing both of them and pulling them closer to his face, ignoring the heavy breathing and whimpers coming from them. They looked almost human, except for the pointed ears and tails they had. Besides that, one of the boys wore a red sweatshirt and had blonde hair pulled back into a short ponytail. The second slightly smaller one was a brunette who was wearing a green t-shirt. Could he be dreaming right now? Maybe. He hadn’t heard of anything like them before. Maybe, if they looked so human, they could talk? It was worth a shot.

“What the fuck are you?” He mumbled, making both of the tiny kids flinch. Ok, maybe that could have been more tactful, but he was tired, alright? Just when it seemed like the blonde one was going to speak up, the brunette slapped a hand over his mouth. Ok, so that meant that they probably could talk. They just didn’t want to. So Quackity, not having any better ideas for the time being, just set the two in his now emptied smaller suitcase, not registering the scared and frantic pleas from both of them to be let go, and zipped it shut, setting it next to his bed before falling back asleep.

****

The next morning was a train wreck, to say the least. As soon as Quackity woke up and remembered what had happened the night before, he went to check his suitcase. And sure enough, there were still two miniature people (to small to immediately notice the tear tracks down their face) in it, asleep. He was ecstatic. After all, he hadn’t heard of anything like these before. What could they do? What were they capable of? Where they alone or were they part of a bigger community of little people? What was their society like? Did he just discover a new species? After calming down a bit after his revelations, he raced down the stairs, suitcase in hand, to find Sam, only to find him on his knees with his phone flashlight out and some of the floorboards pulled up. What the actual fuck.

“Uh, Sam?” Quackity stated, walking farther from the steps to alert the man of his presence. “Whatcha doin there, buddy?” Sam whirled around, surprised at seeing Quackity, and god did he look tired. His hair was unkept, his eyes looked red, and the eye bags spoke for themselves. The only thing that kept him from looking completely dead were the bright green creeper pajamas that he insisted on wearing every night since Quackity bought them for him as a joke. Seriously, it looked pretty ridiculous, but that wasn’t the main problem here. How long was he up last night? But Sam seemingly refused to acknowledge how exhausted he clearly was, because he responded as if nothing was wrong. “Oh, Quackity! Uh..hey! Just, uh..looking for someo- something.” He said, clearly trying to look innocent but hiding something. Quackity wasn’t buying a word of what he said. He was in law school, he could pick out a liar. Sam would have to do better than that. “Ok, what are you looking for? Do you need help? Did you get any sleep looking for it or were you up all night, because honestly? You look like shit.” Sam’s face fell a little, whether that be because his act of being not tired hadn’t held up or because Quackity rightfully said he looked like shit, he didn’t know. But at least he was now being forced to talk about what he’d been avoiding. Sam sighed.

“No, I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m worried.” Sam looked away and Quackity couldn’t help but feel like whatever Sam was so worried about was his fault. What did he do? Could he fix it? He set down the suitcase and moved closer to his father figure, kneeling down to be at eye level with him. “Sam, whatever you’re worried about, you can tell me.” He laid a hand on his shoulder. “You trust me, right?” Sam sighed, a soft smile across his lips as he laid a hand over Quackity’s, holding it and bringing down. “Of course I do. It’s just…I don’t know how you’ll react to this.” Quackity responded by holding Sam’s hand tighter. “Try me.” Sam sighed and let go of Quackity’s hand, instead wringing his hands together. A nervous habit Q had taken note of years ago. “Ok, so what if I told you I had adopted two more little boys after you went to college?” Sam said, looking down and growing quieter as he finished the sentence.

Quackity’s heart stopped. Holy shit. He had brothers. Little brothers. Two of them. Holy fuck. “Wait- wait I think I misunderstood something here I…” Quackity laughed in disbelief. “You have brothers.” Sam smiled, seemingly relieved that Quackity didn’t look too upset. “Im sorry, I should’ve told you sooner but I was so busy with the boys and I didn’t know how they would react to you and how you would react to them so I just…didn’t tell you.” He rambled. “I didn’t even mean to tell them about you but they broke into your old room a few days ago and said they wanted to meet you. That’s why I invited you over this year, but I can’t find them and I’ll be honest, I’m worried. Knowing those two they could be in actual danger right now.” “Wait, why would you be looking for them under the floorbo-“ Quackity cut himself off. Oh. Oh no.

“Well, you see, they’re…” Sam sighed. “They’re not entirely…human.” Quackity froze, and it felt like his heart stopped beating. He didn’t even need to hear the rest of what Sam said, but his brain forced him to listen to what he unfortunately already knew. “They’re only about as tall as my middle finger. They’re called borrowers. So them getting lost in the walls or attacked by a wild animal are actual concerns.” Q stood silent, shocked, the suitcase his apparently very literally little brothers were trapped in barely visible out of the corner of his eyes.

“Uh, actually, Sam, I think they’re fine.” Quackity mumbled, backing up towards the bag. Sam raised an eyebrow. “How do you know.” ‘Shit, how am I supposed to say this?’ Quackity thought. And finding no answer, he relented to simply grab the suitcase and hand it to Sam, who looked somehow more confused until he unzipped it. Quackity couldn’t stand to hear the boys cry in relief as they were lifted out of the bag by his- their father. He looked away as Sam turned his attention to calming the sobbing boys down, and tuned out whatever Sam was saying. He didn’t want to see the look of disappointment and disdain on his face. He didn’t want to hear how Sam would tell the borrowers that they’d never have to see Quackity again, that he would never be welcome here again. However, neither happened. Quackity was brought back into reality by a gentle tap on the shoulder. He turned around to see Sam, a hand cupped to his chest containing the two little boys who had stopped crying and who looked at him with a slight fear, but a stronger curiosity. “Quackity,” Sam spoke gently, his voice not holding the anger Quackity thought it would, “Care to explain what happened?”

Quackity didn’t know when he started to cry while explaining what had happened the previous night. Whether it was from watching Sam’s clear face of understanding when it should have been rage, the fear that he would be abandoned by the only person who ever cared about him, or just plain guilt, he didn’t know. But what he didn’t expect was for one of the little boys to speak up, followed by the other, both speaking to their dad in his defense. Telling Sam how they had broken into Quackity’s room again when they knew they shouldn’t have, and Sam carefully explaining why that was a bad idea. Then the one in the red sweater spoke to him. “We’re sorry, Big Q.” The blonde said, “We shouldn’t have been in your room.” Quackity felt his heart swell at the nickname as he held out his hand to the boys, both looking up to Sam for approval. He nodded at them, and Quackity watched in utter amazement as the two climbed on his hand with little hesitation. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.” He said, holding them up higher to his face and trying to ignore the instinct to aw at them. That wouldn’t help anybody, and who knew if they would find that insulting. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you, I shouldn’t have trapped you, I- I’m sorry. I want to know you better, I want to be part of your family. If you want me to be of course, and it’s ok if you don’t, but I want to be the best big brother I can.” He smiled at them. And he could have cried again from pure joy when the brunette spoke up this time. “Of course! Dad’s told us all about you, it’s really nice to finally meet you, first impressions be damned. Oh, and I’m Tubbo, by the way.” He said, elbowing the other. “Right, I’m Tommy!” The other, Tommy, spoke up. “And same with what Tubbo said. And I hope you know what you’re getting into, you’re stuck as our big brother now, you can’t go back.” He smirked, just making Quackity smile wider. “Oh of course, don’t expect me to ever go back on it.”

***

The rest of the day was spent on the couch, some shitty Christmas movie on in the background as the two borrowers used Quackity as a jungle gym, sharing stories that Sam had told about him, embarrassing Quackity and making Sam laugh. And Quackity hadn’t been this happy in a long time. With his dad and his new little brothers, his family, he felt truly happy. And he couldn’t be happier that despite what he had done, they had forgiven him. And he swore to be the best big brother for them that he could be.

#cyncerity #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #cynwrites #for the first time in like a month #woohoo #Mel I hope you like it!! 💖#Also this is why I wasn’t talking about my story for the Secret Santa on call a few days ago lol

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meeedeee · 3 years

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The First Post To The First Slash /Shipping Mailing List

The Date: October 19, 1992 ("it was almost 29 years ago") The Poster: sherrold*

Context: the first pan fandom slash (shipping) mailing list, Virgule-L, was in its infancy. Safe spaces for women to talk about slash online were rare. And most fan fiction was distributed in print fanzines (which is why fanzine reviews like the one Sandy wrote were so important as a single fanzine cost $15-20 or around $30-40 in today's dollars.) Fan run conventions were the only way to meet other groups of fans and mailed letters and phone calls were the tenuous tethers that strung these fan groups together. The mailing list - and the Internet - was about to change...everything. ****************

Well, welcome to my adventure in mailing! I hope to have this set up soon as a 'real' mailing list, with it's own address. Until then, I only know one way for one of you to write to everyone at once. Just reply to a letter from the list, and answer yes, when it asks, 'reply to all'. So far there are 7 of us. I'll let everyone introduce themselves. I am Sandy Hereld,* I write as Alyx (often with a friend who used Alys) the pen name is *not* a secret. I started in "/" fandom in trek, moved to Pros, and now am very crazed about B7. I still love Pros, and like a lot of different fandoms, including Wiseguy, Starsky and Hutch, and Muncle. I helped run a slash con here in town last week, Virgule, and hope to make Escapade** this year (in February, in Santa Barbara--one of the list subscribers co- runs it--memberships still available), but not Revelcon.*** Maybe, if I get a new job, Media West. I've never been there, and I've always wanted to go. I just finished a great Multi-mediazine called Homosapiens Too. It has an interesting variety of fandoms and crossovers; even more important, there wasn't a single story that stunk (though I liked some better than others, of course.) Page count is Pros/Booker 18 pgs (Bodie/Booker) Eroica/Muncle 5 pgs (Eroica/Illya) Batman 4 (Batman/street punk) Nightflyers 6+ (cartoon, from the movie) TNG 5pgs (Beverly/symbiote) B7/TOS trek 5 pgs (Blake/Spock) Dangerous Liaisons 7 pgs (Valmont/Danceny) Damiano 2 pgs (from the R.A. McAvoy books) MUNCLE 2 pgs the usual Star Wars 4 (cartoon, original characters) Pros 4 pgs the usual B7 50 pgs (Blake/Avon) Perhaps I should mention at the there was a contest for most outrageous crossover pairing. My favorites were: The Right Place To Be (Bodie/Booker) by Arcane Annie & Stew--Bodie quits in a huff after an Operation Suzie, and is too embarrassed to go back; Booker has quit somewhat similarly. Seeing how stupid the other's foolish pride looks, they both learn things about playing roles and 'what really matters.' They also have pretty good sex. Do Blond's Really Have More Fun? (Eroica/Illya) by Barbara T. This definitely is set at a time when Solo and Kurykin are having some problems. The crossover is a fascinating one, and it works. (Anyone needing Erioca explained, just e-mail me. It is a pretty new/small fandom, but growing fast.) Brand New Day (Spock/Blake) by Jane Carnell follows immediately after Blake's pod makes planetfall after Star One. A great Blake, and if not a totally convincing Spock, it's close. Worth it for this scene alone. --Blake "What do you like?" "Anal penetration," "Which way round?" Blake inquired. "I am a telepath. It hardly matters. Whichever way pleases you." Valmont (Valmont/Danceny) by Stew -is a romantic, but very plausible retelling of the movie Dangerous Liaisons, all from Danceny's POV. For any that have read the book, you know it is told solely in letters and diary entries, so this collection of Danceny's diaries is very faithful to the original feel. It is also an amazingly concise retelling, squeezing 2 hours into 6 1/2 pgs. Submissive It Ain't (Pros) is basically just a sex story, but one firmly based in the very different personalities of Bodie and Doyle. Nice idea, beautiful sex, slightly weak ending. Puppeteer (Blake/Avon) by Bryn Lantry is a convoluted but beautiful story where: the action is in the emotions, everyone has multiple motives, and no one truly knows their own minds, much less understands their crewmates. A bit alternate, set sometime in the months before Star One but after Blake has already got the idea in mind, this is a wonderful character study of Blake and Avon, with Vila and Cally in strong supporting roles. Not my favorite type of story -- I think I prefer something a bit more straightforward, but undeniably compelling and well written. The other stories weren't dogs either... The Muncle story, Hanging In Time, by Y.J. is a very disturbing portrayal of the hurt-comfort syndrome in Illya, The Batman story will appeal to anyone who liked "The Dark Knight Returns" With All My Symbiotes -Susan Douglas- has some nice female slash. Why Couldn't It Be Me has gotten a certain amount of press as "Biblical slash." It does have two biblical characters in it, but it is just a vigniette, and has no overt slash content. A few caveats: I disliked the art in the first story, and was indifferent to the rest. I had a hard time reading the 2 cartoon sections; I thought the penning needed to be clearer, and the xerox needed to be darker for those sections. With those few quibbles in mind, I recommend the zine highly. It has an interesting collection of stories set in an amazing variety of universes. The editor is joining a growing number of publishers and putting the word count down -- 80,700, with 40,700 of it in Bryn's B7 story. It is available from Manacles Press here in the U.S. at [address removed]. There is no U.S. price on the zine; it says to SASE Manacles Press, and I can't remember whether I paid $15 or $18 at the con. From Australia, it is available from the publisher...[address removed] $12 within Aust, $20 posted overseas airmail. (I assume that's $Aus)”

*Sandy passed away in July 2011 of cancer. One of our final joint projects was going through our emails dating back 20+ years to find fandom history we could share

**Escapade is the longest running slash convention and is still held in Southern California (as of 2021)

*Revelcon is a slash friendly multi-fandom convention held in Texas. As of 2021 it is still running

#fandom history #fandom love #escapadecon #fanzines #Blake's 7 #Star Trek #Star Wars #Eroica #man from uncle #the professionals #book fanfic #feedback #snady

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xoxoouat · 2 years

Text

That stupid mistletoe -My CSSS2021 Gift.

Hi! @sotangledupinit

!! I am your Secret Santa in the @cssecretsanta2020 event!

I really hope you will like the story and the art. I'm sorry I'm late, I have been so stressed this month. I really enjoyed talking to you tho!

Also I’m thinking Killian’s piano piece could be the song called : the swan. But the piano only version. It will appear if you search for it.

Emma knew she wasn’t the biggest fan of Christmas once. But it was alright, when you had someone to spend it with. Not that she would tell anybody about that, no. No she was always the one to roll her eyes, when Mary Margaret asked her to pull a note from the ball. Alway the one David joked about being the grinch. Always the one that Ruby personally picked up from her apartment. Cause “Maybe she wouldn’t show up for baking the Christmas cookies.” And she liked that, that was her thing. She enjoyed playing pretend. And she knew, everybody knew she loved Christmas inside.

It was this whole thing. Friendstmas. None of them had parents. Parents they cared for at least. And there were no kids, at least not yet. David and Mary Margaret coming awfully close to the next step.

So why not spend it together. They meet up on the 1st December. A meeting of a kind. To figure out where they should be having Christmas, normally they are at David and Mary Margaret's house. And who should be responsible for the different tasks.

And of course, pick a secret Santa.

This meeting was always at Killian’s apartment. He was the best cook (don’t tell Mary Margaret.). And his apartment wasn’t exactly the biggest, but it was always very beautifully decorated. Unlike other people, Killian put it up exactly on the 1st December. (Maybe because he knew he would get guests.) It gave the holiday a great start, and got everybody in the mood.

When Emma got there, she could already feel the Christmas energy in the whole apartment.

“Hello Swan!” Killian yelled from the kitchen. A “How did you know that?!” came after.

“Hi guys” Emma stepped into the living room. Belle and Ruby were sitting on one of the small couches.

“Hi Emma.” Ruby answered, while taking a cookie.

Emma sat down, while asking. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for the others.”

“And talking about how Killian knows exactly who walks through the door. Just by listening to the way they knock or ring.” Belle chipped in.

“I didn’t-“

“Exactly Swan, you didn’t. That’s exactly how I knew.” Killian said while walking through the door. “You are getting too comfortable around here, love.” Killian sat down next to Emma.

“Mhhhhm” Emma said while placing both feet on Killian’s knees.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK…

“That’s obviously David.” Emma told Killian with a roll of her eyes.

Belle got up to open, for them. And in came David and Mary Margaret. And a stranger…

“How did you know!” Belle yelled again.”

“Because that stupid brother of mine, always have to show of how much his knuckles can take.”

Ruby, who had now gotten up, extended her hand to the stranger. “Excuse my girlfriend for so rudely yelling in your face, when she hasn't even introduced herself. I’m Ruby, my rude girlfriend over here is Belle.”

“Hi, pleasure. I’m Graham.”

At the new voice, Killian -who had been focusing on playing with Emma’s hair- looked up. Corking an eyebrow in question at Emma. She lifted one back, and got up.

“Hi I’m Emma.” She said once she was in the entrance.

The entrance that was as big as a closet. A closet with now five people in it.

“Why don’t you all come to the living room, so we can all see each other.” Killian said from the doorway.

Graham introduced himself, and explained he and David had been texting work related for some time. But then had started to become friends, and he needed a break from the small town he was living in. So he came to Boston, and visited.

“I thought he could spend Christmas with us?” David said.

Everybody agreed.

“So… should we do secret Santa now?!” Mary Margaret asked, already pulling the bag with names from her purse. “I also added Graham's name, now that he is spending Christmas with us.”

“So what do you do? Do you give them small gifts or?” Graham asked.

“You give your giftee a present, on Christmas Eve. Some also like to give a little before. And then of course on Christmas morning we have presents for everybody.” David explained.

“Sounds good.”

“It’s really fun, Graham.” Commented Belle.

They figured out where they were gonna be at Christmas: David and Mary Margaret’s house. Who was gonna be doing what.

Emma was in charge of bringing the liquor.

Killian, Mary Margaret and Belle the food.

David and Graham the dishwashing afterwards.

Ruby was in charge of the morning activities, breakfasts and movies.

When every decision was made, and every cookie eaten. People went home. Emma stayed though, to help with cleaning up.

Emma was wiping the sofa table off, when Killian yelled from the kitchen “so, what do you think of Graham?”

“Hmmm I haven’t talked with him that much. But he seems really nice.”

Killian, who was now leaning on the door frame of the kitchen, asked “really nice, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.” Emma threw the wet towel she had been wiping with after him. “You know what I mean.” All she got was a chuckle, from Killian who had nearly been hit by the wet towel.

“Sooooo.”

Emma said while walking closer to Killian. “Who are you secret Santa for?” She whispered, once in front of him.

“I’m not one to ruin the surprise, Swan.” And it was true, he wasn’t. “It is as likely for you to follow one of these wonderful Christmas traditions, without force. As it is for me to spill the beans, so to speak.”

“I can follow a damn tradition!”

Killian’s only answer was to lift an eyebrow and look up. Right up to where a mistletoe was hanging. Of course he would have put it there. Right in the doorway everybody walks through. That stupid kitchen doorway. That stupid mistletoe. She couldn’t show that it affected her. Just like she couldn’t show how he affected her.

He didn’t!

“Please, you couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.” Why, why did he have to pop the T at the end of that sentence. And why did he have to tap his lips in that attractive way. And why-

That stupid mistletoe.

It was only a kiss, and Emma pulled back as if his lips burned her.

She hugged him close. She couldn’t lose him, just because of her stupidity. Just because of a stupid mistletoe. He chuckled and leaned his cheek on her hair. She could feel the laughter in his stomach. She could feel him homing.

“I have to go,” Emma reluctantly pulled back. “I have a date tomorrow.”

“Or really love? And tell me, you need to go now because?” He grabbed her hands and pulled her closer again. “Is it a brunch date? Perhaps with a bad guy.”

“Of course, it’s only a set up. I haven’t been on a date since… God! I can’t even remember.” She could see Killian was trying not to laugh at her, and only succeeded because he could focus on one of her hair strands.

“And no it’s not in the morning. It’s just- I got a lot of paperwork.”

Emma moved to the entrance and slipped her shoes on.

Killian helped her slip her jacket on. “Ah the boring part of being a bail bonds -“

“Person.” She interrupted. Turning around to say goodbye.

“I know.” He answered, while holding up her scarf. She gave him a nod. He seemed awfully happy and gity. Almost as if he was a school boy.

“Good” she answered, then walked out the door. It was good, she had been calm and collected. And he had been- he had thought it was funny. A joke. This was… bad. But she could handle it. She had to.

She had been ignoring him. She knew it deep inside. But pretended it was just because she was busy. She was busy, chasing bad guys just for them to ruin her dress. Or try to give her a pair on the head. They were normally too slow for her, and she would end up giving them a pair. But this time, this time it was cold. And she had agreed to meet in an area she wasn’t that familiar with. She really needed to catch that guy.

He ran around a corner, into an alley. She ran after him, but he was waiting for her. Pressing her up against the wall. His arm against her throat, holding her in place.

“And I thought you would just let it be.” His voice was deep in her ear, and she focused on the wall in front of her. Truthfully most of the people she found were harmless. But this guy was really bad. Had been involved in several cases.

“No I guess I should have guessed not, got to have some paycheck for the family. Especially now that it’s Christmas.” At the word family Emma shot her eyes. “Oh, no family? What a shame, you should pass these golden curls over to the next generation.” He lifted his other hand to toy with her hair. No, that wasn’t his thing to do. It was Killian who played with her hair, as if he were a cat.

“Well I need to find my nasty wife and dishonest small bastards of children I have. And you are not gonna stop me.”

He whispered the last part. And it was just too much.

“Isn’t it weird that a dumbass like you, somehow found a family. You somehow got a woman to marry you! And your children could have loved you! Too bad you were too much of a drunk…. And too deep in your shit show of deals and cover jobs to make them!” He looked taken aback for a moment but quickly found his voice.

“What did you just say bitch?”

“You heard me.” She whispered. He hit her in the face and threw her to the ground. Kicked her and then left whispering a string of curses.

Emma laid still. Allowing herself to feel the pain. She had tried worse, and the cold was numbing the pain. She thought about Killian. She missed him, she hadn’t seen him in two weeks. They almost never went on without seeing each other more than two days in a row.

She sat up and pulled her knees to her face. Good thing she didn’t even get a chance to take her jacket off. God knows how long she had been there.

“Swan?”

For a moment she thought she was at home and Killian was there too. Then she realized where she was, and looked up.

“Hi”

Killian was standing in front of her. He had probably been with his friend Will who lived around here.

“Christ swan, what happened to your lip?!”

Emma finally got up and started walking. The direction of her car. This was bad.

“Some sucker punched me in the face”

Real bad, he was there. He probably had questions.

“Bad date huh?”

And she couldn’t answer them.

“You can say as much. I-“ He pulled at her hand. She turned around ready for her questioning. But all she saw was concern.

“Come on swan. I can make you some food at my place. Is the bug around?” She was stunned for a minute. He had just let it go, as if she hadn’t missed him like crazy . Had he not missed her at all.

“Er..yeah it’s right down there at the corner.”

They drove in silence. She discovered she had some bruises on her ribs. But nothing she couldn’t handle. Killian asked her a thousand times if she was sure. She told him to make her some food. He did. They ate in silence. It was first when he was standing at the sink, washing things. And she was drying, it was broken. The silence that is.

“What have you been doing?” She asked tentatively.

“Not much, the usual. Missing you like crazy…”

She had to force herself not to look up at him. “Oh…I missed you too.”

He turned off the water and began drying his hands. “Really cause it was you who wouldn’t see me.”

“I-“

“Swan I get it. You followed that tradition and you think you shouldn’t have. No need to make a mess of it.”

A mess of it.

It already was!

And it had been in her head, fumbling around for two weeks!

He doesn’t think it’s a big deal. Neither do you.

“Er…Apropos that tradition, you have to tell me who your giftee is.”

Nice and smooth.

“Come swan, let me show you something” And with that Killian pulled her with him. Into the living room, and onto the piano bench. “This is for you.”

A beautiful melody began to play.

She had never heard it before.

Had Killian made this-no he showed her all his music. Maybe in the two weeks that had passed ... maybe for his giftee.

“This was beautiful. It was-“

“It’s to my giftee.”

“Yes, I figured. Did you make it?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “Aye, it’s just how my giftee makes me feel.”

She didn’t dare hope but… “Killian…” who could it be other than her.. Graham? “Who is your giftee?”

“Don’t you know Emma, it’s you.”

She didn’t know how to react. She didn’t know who else it could have been. But…her?.

“I..”

“It’s alright swan,” he shifted closer. “ I don’t expect a kiss or anything.” Even closer. “ Cause when I win your heart Emma, and I will win it, it won’t be because of any trickery.”

With that he kissed her cheek and hugged her close.

They stayed there for a while. Holding each other. Excepting what this would mean.

After a long while. Killian broke the silence.

“Home alone?”

Emma mumbled something into his shoulder. “What do you say, lass?”

She then gave a slow nod of agreement.

This would beat any paychecks she could ever get.

She talked with Graham a lot. She hadn’t thought much of him, but after picking his name at secret Santa. She kind of had to. They were texting a little bit back and forth. And she had hung out with him and David a couple times. He really seemed nice, and she was beginning to understand what kind of thing he would really appreciate for a gift.

Killian and her had been seeing each other like they had done normally before. It hadn’t changed much, sometimes they would have these moments. When laying on the couch, watching home alone. He would look at her this way, this way he only did when he thought she wasn’t looking. But on the couch he knew she was looking right back.

But he was still his old flirty persona.

It was Ruby's birthday. Of course they were going to a bar. A bar that had been overwhelmingly decorated with Christmas decorations.

“Are you alright swan? You look possibly mortified.”

Killian said when they stepped inside. Emma rolled her eyes.

“Shut up, and let's find the others, you Elf.”

Ruby had many friends, but Emma found herself talking to Graham. Again.

But really she was having a good time. Graham was funny and kind, (and Emma knew exactly what she would get for him.). But he wasn’t Killian, of course. Nobody was. Nobody got her sarcasm the way he did. And she hadn’t seen him since the beginning of the evening. So she finished her conversation with Graham, and started looking for him. He was nowhere to be found. So Emma decided to go take a bathroom break.

And guess who she found standing in the hallway. Killian. But not just Killian, Killian and Ruby's friend Tink. They were standing awfully close, for some friends that were just talking. But Emma knew he wouldn’t do anything like that, not after what he told her last week. But then he leaned in and whispered something in her ear, and Emma knew. She knew it had been a bad idea. God she was so stupid. Slipped out of the halway, out of the bar, without anyone noticing.

God she was stupid.

It was two days after the party on Friday night. Emma had just had a quiet weekend, not wanting to be social. She had been crying after she went home Friday night. But Saturday morning she pulled herself together. She hadn't talked with Killian since Friday.

Knock…Knock…

It almost sounded like a question the way the second knock followed much more tentatively.

Emma opened the door, of course. Killian.

“Er…Hello there Swan… Can I- Uh- can I come in?”

She was mad and hurt, but the way he sounded so unsure and small made her open the door vider.

They moved to the living room but none of them sat down. It was….awkward. It was never like this. Or- apparently it was now.

“I uh- I wrote you a bunch of times, since you didn’t show up for brunch yesterday. But I thought perhaps you just overslept. She hadn’t used her phone since friday. And she hadn’t overslept. She had just not gone, she thought that maybe he wouldn’t show up, or perhaps bring Tink along. And that thought made her sick.

“I didn’t think you would show up.”

“And you didn’t think of asking me first?” Killian didn’t get annoyed with her very often. You could hear his accent getting thicker.

“No I didn’t. I thought that if you did go, you would bring your little pixie with you.”

He looked puzzled for a moment. “My little pi….Tink?”

“You said it, not me.” Emma turned around and began walking away from him.

“How-”

Emma was glad she had her back to him, the tears that were gathering in her eyes were inevitable. “Because I saw you!” Emma yelled. She actually didn’t care if he saw her tears, he should know how much it was hurting her. She turned around. If Killian was surprised she was crying, he didn’t show it.

“I saw you out in the halway!”

Killian walked closer. “Swan… I-” He tried to take her hand. But she moved it before he could touch her. “You what?!...I should have known you didn’t mean a word of what you were saying about winning my heart!” Killian suddenly got an angrier expresion.

“Oh aye? Because you gave me a chance?! Because you didn’t follow Graham around all week?! Because you weren't flirting with him all night, friday?!”

“I wasn’t Killian…”

“Right swan.” And with that he stormed out of the apartment.

It had been three days since the fight, and it was Christmas eve. Emma was not in the mood.

The whole dinner Emma and Killian were silent, except if somebody asked them a question. When it was finally done, they had to open Secret Santa presents. Afterwards they normally just talked and had fun, but Emma wasn’t in the mood. She was planning on leaving right after.

Killian had gotten her a year's supply of hot cinnamon powder. She gave her thanks in words. And everybody knew something was wrong.

Graham was really happy for his gift. She couldn’t help but notice the way Killian got an expression of realization, and sunk a little more down in his chair.

When they were done Emma said she was going home, people gave her questionable looks but didn’t say anything. Just when David and Mary Margaret’s front door was shot behind her, Killian yelled “SWAN!”

She could hear him running behind her. She walked over to her yellow bug, but at that point he had gotten up to her. “I’m sorry, Love.”He took her hand and made her face him.

“I know I was the idiot in this. I just got so jealous, seeing you being so open to Graham. When you aren't normally so fond of strangers.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s only because I’m his-”

“Secret santa. Aye love, I know. I didn’t kiss Tink, she’s not you.”

Emma searched his eyes for lies, but found none.

“Ok I believe you.”

“And I promise I meant every word I ever said about your heart.”

Searching. No lie.

“Ok Killian” She hummed out. A grin split his face, and he took a step closer. Putting her between him and the car. Killian’s hand that didn’t already have hers in it, rose above her head. She looked up. A mistletoe.

That stupid mistletoe.

#cs #csss21 #captain swan #ouat #captain swan ff

71 notes · View notes

cacoetheswriting · 3 years

Text

lonely this christmas

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: mild mild cursing, mainly just fluff !!! Word Count: 2.9k Summary: Reader admits to Spencer she will be spending the holidays alone but he’s got other plans.

A/N: starting off the month of december with a christmas centred fic!! hope you like it <3

Being alone on Christmas wasn’t unfamiliar to Spencer. In fact it was pretty much the opposite. Being alone on Christmas was typical, ordinary.

The nature of his job being what it was, he usually ended up working over the holidays anyway. Therefore he never made any plans with his mom because most times he just ended up disappointing her. Being alone at Christmas was fine. Being a disappointment however, completely different story.

As years went by Diana stopped noticing his absence. Of course if Spencer was to visit her at the sanitarium over Christmas she would welcome him with open arms, but he never does. He used to feel incredibly guilty about it, but that too passed with time.

There was no indication that this year would be any different so he kept his schedule clear. However, the twenty-fifth of December approached fast. Very fast. The closer it got the more it was shaping to be the first holiday season, in a long time, the team would get to spend with their families. And even Spencer found himself considering going home to Nevada; seeing his mom.

A tab of the airline website was constantly open on his desktop. He checked it regularly; hovering over the option to buy a ticket.

That’s how you caught him one day.

You observed from your own desk as Spencer leaned back in his chair, one hand still holding the mouse. The wheels inside his brain clearly turning; evaluating all of the options and possible outcomes.

“Hey, doctor.” You called out grabbing his attention. “If you spend any more time thinking about whether you should go home for Christmas, all the good seats will be gone.”

He chuckled. “I guess you’re right.” “As always.” You shot him a playful wink as he turned to once again look at his screen.

“There. Bought.” Spencer exclaimed after a brief moment of silence. “My mom will be happy.” “When was the last time you seen her?” You asked curiously. “It has been more than six months at this stage.” He answered while standing up.

“Coffee?” He gestured to the empty mug on your desk. You nodded. “You read my mind.”

The two of you walked towards the kitchenette in the office. It was quite late on a Friday night meaning everyone had cleared out for the weekend. Only the usual suspects remained; Spencer and you.

“When was the last time you were home for Christmas?” “Three years ago. How about you?” Spencer asked, tilting his head slightly to look at you. “Oh, I honestly don’t even remember.” You replied shrugging your shoulders.

“So your family must have been happy to hear you were getting the chance this year to spend the holidays with them.” The brunette doctor switched on the coffee machine and leaned against the wall while you elegantly hopped up onto the counter.

“Actually, I didn't tell them.”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “How come?”

He watched intently as you chewed on your bottom lip - a bad habit you failed miserably to break. In that second of silence you wondered whether you should tell him the truth. He was always so open with you, honest. It would only be fair to repay him with the same sincerity. So you took in a quick breath, and exhaled it quietly before looking up to meet his amiable gaze.

“My mom and I got into this huge fight a couple of weeks ago. She tried to set me up with this guy because in her eyes it’s unacceptable that I’m single. She doesn't think it’s right that my younger sister is getting married next summer and I haven't had one relationship in my life that lasted longer than a month.” A soft sigh escaped you. “I told her to butt out, using much harsher language than that of course.” Your mouth twirled into a smile; trying to make light of this conversation. Being no stranger to your frequent use of profanity Spencer smirked.

“We haven't spoken since. She hasn't formally invited me over for the holidays which she always does, even if she knows I won’t be able to make it, and whenever I bring it up with my dad or my siblings they change the topic so.” You shrugged once again while nervously dangling your legs. “It’s easier not to go.”

Spencer nodded slowly, taking in all of the information you just unloaded. Shaking your head you reached over to grab the coffee pot and poured some into your mug.

“I’m sorry doctor. I didn’t mean to just lay it all on you like that.”

He stepped towards you. “Don’t be.” Holding his own cup in front of him, he smiled kindly. “Thank you for telling me.” You began to pour the black hot liquid into his mug; a slight shake to your hand. “Thank you for listening.” “Anytime.”

Spencer placed his full cup on the counter beside you and began to rummage through the cupboards in search for sugar. “Y/N I gotta ask, and obviously if you don't want to answer me you don't have to.” He cleared his throat as you took a sip of your bitter black coffee. “Why didn’t you want to go on a date with the man your mom suggested?”

Once he successfully located the sugar, he straightened his shirt and plopped two cubes into the hot beverage. He offered you one but you shook your head, taking another sip.

“I get that it’s not really my place but it just seems a small price to pay for being able to spend Christmas with your loved ones.”

“If you must know doctor, I prefer to meet people through work. Prison systems and such.” You joked, a wide smile gracing your features. Spencer rolled his eyes. “And how is that going for you?” “Surprisingly well. I have a date shortly after we’re back from the Christmas break.” He arched his brow and smiled at you; playing along as you continued. “Solid guy. Only murdered five people.”

You beamed at the brunette doctor who was grinning back. “Maybe I should consider adding prisons to my dating pool.” You let out an over-exaggerated gasp and placed your free hand over your chest. “Is doctor Spencer Reid really on the market?”

Spencer shook his head. His light curls bouncing finely, matching his every move. He lowered his lips to the brim of his mug and took a sip of his coffee before focusing on you. “No, but for the right girl I’d consider it.”

Without thinking you raised your free arm and adjusted his tie. Flattening down the edge of his collar, you could feel his eyes on you. Yet for some reason you were suddenly afraid to look up and meet his gaze. Strange. Or maybe not so strange.

“Lucky girl.” You said in a mere whisper. Letting your hand fall, you stepped off the counter with a light bounce. Spencer cleared his throat and the two of you walked back to your seats.

The next few hours were spent working in silence. You tried to focus on the mountain of paperwork on your desk, yet instead found yourself glancing at the young doctor every other second - secretly hoping he would also be peeking up at you. And he was. Just not when you were looking at him.

“Y/N if you want you can come with me to Nevada, spend Christmas with me and my mom. ” Spencer proposed out of the blue. He got up out of his chair and grabbed his jacket, slowly putting it on. You smiled at him. “Thank you doctor but I will honestly be okay alone.” Pause. “Plus, I wouldn't want to interfere.”

He was about to protest, say you wouldn't be interrupting, but he bit his tongue. He didn't want to seem pushy. “If you change your mind, let me know.” He reached for his bag and threw the strap over his head. “Just do it quickly or all the good seats will be gone.” He teased. You giggled. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. ”

The brunette agent hesitated. He swayed on his heel for a moment before approaching your desk. “Can I give you a ride home?” He asked, eyes locking with yours. “There’s still a couple of things I want to get done but thank you for the kind offer.” Spencer nodded. A faint look of disappointment appeared on his face. “Goodnight Y/N.” “Goodnight doctor.”

Christmas was upon you in the blink of an eye. On the last day before break the team exchanged Secret Santa presents before enjoying a pizza party. This year you had Penelope who squealed over her gift as everyone watched in amusement; you included. Resting against the wall, you observed as the blonde jumped around the room with joy. Her smile made you smile.

“Good job on Penelope’s gift.” Spencer appeared beside you holding two plastic cups filled to the brim with eggnog. He handed you one before making himself comfortable next to you, his arm pressed gently to yours. “I don’t know what you're talking about doctor.” You responded, tilting your head slightly to look at him.

“I like your Christmas sweater.” A small smile circled your lips as you reached out to flick the little bell sown onto the top of the Santas hat on his jumper. Spencer chuckled. “Thank you. You know, I really couldn't decide between this or the one with the Home Alone reference.” “Ah, the trusted Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal sweater.” “That would be the one, yes.” The two of you beamed at each other.

“I’m surprised you know what Home Alone is doctor.” You teased, nudging him playfully in the arm. Spencer laughed. “If I’m being honest, I was more intrigued by the booby traps than the plot of the movie.” He retorted as you sipped on the eggnog; slightly rolling your eyes at his response. “Of course you were. Don’t tell me you tested them out too?”

He averted his gaze without responding, clearly a little embarrassed. “Well...”

You couldn't help but giggle. Slowly, you leaned in towards him so that your lips were now at his ear. The brunette agent shivered as your hot breath hit his skin, however he didn't move away.

“Don’t worry doctor, I did too.” You whispered.

Instantly, he turned to look at you once again. His face was now inches away from yours, and as he stared oddly into your eyes the air caught in your throat. The two of you hovered right there for a moment, not moving and quite soundless, simply feeling each other's presence - as if there was no-one else in the room, no party.

Eventually you broke the eye contact and took a step to your right, moving away from him. Suddenly feeling timid, you took another sip of your beverage while your free hand ran through your hair. Spencer also looked away. His mind racing a million miles per hour; he should have kissed you, right? No. Not in front of all these people, your colleagues. That would be bad. Unprofessional. Would you have even wanted him to kiss you? Did you like him like that? He hoped you did.

The party soon drew to a close. You were lost in conversation with Emily while Spencer was trying to teach Morgan and Rossi some card tricks. Your gaze kept averting in the direction of the young doctor every once in a while; Emily of course noticed. “Tell me again why you’re not going to Nevada with our resident genius?” A puzzled look now present on your face. “How did you-”

“Reid told Morgan who told Garcia who told me.” She interrupted. You laughed at the ridiculousness of what she just came out of her mouth. “It’s like I’m in high school all over again.” She laughed under her breath.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“So, why aren’t you going?” Emily pried. A quiet sigh escaped your lips. “Like I told him, I don’t want to interfere.” She rolled her eyes; not buying into your bullshit. “He wouldn't have invited you-” “Fuck, please I don’t want-” She raised her hands in front of her. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

Glancing at the time, you excused yourself wishing Emily a wonderful and happy Christmas. Quickly and quietly, you headed to your desk and put on your winter coat. As you grabbed your handbag you turned to face the remaining partygoers: “Happy holidays everyone!”. Your eyes briefly locked with Spencers who shot you a shy smile as you mouthed ‘Merry Christmas doctor.’ before hurrying out the door.

Two days later it was the twenty-fifth of December. You woke up on your couch, having fallen asleep during Christmas movie marathon, to the sound of your phone ringing.

Yawning, you reached for the device. Spencer. Answering, you pressed it to your ear and croaked; “Hello.”.

“I hope I didn't wake you.” “You did actually.” You responded yawning once again and gradually scrambling to your feet. You ambled towards the kitchen, straight for the coffee maker. “But I could never be mad at you doctor.” “I’m glad to hear that.”

There was a short pause.

“How are you?” He asked, his voice kind. “I’m okay, no need to worry about me. Shit-” “Y/N?”

“Sorry. I just realised I’m out of coffee grounds.”

Spencer chuckled on the other line. “It’s not funny doctor. I’ve no coffee and everything is closed because it’s Christmas.” “You could always switch to tea for the day.” Rolling your eyes, you smirked. “Right, because I’m such an avid tea drinker.”

There was another short pause.

“How was your flight? How’s Nevada? How’s your mom?” You asked changing the topic, making conversation. The young doctor didn't respond. “Hey, are you there?” The line cut-off. Weird.

‘He’ll call back later.’, you thought and headed for your bathroom.

An hour later you were showered and dressed. You switched on the lights on your poorly decorated Christmas tree and were about to make yourself comfortable on the sofa when a knock on the door caught your attention. You scurried over, without looking through the peephole to see who it was, you opened it.

“Spencer.”

“Merry Christmas Y/N.”

The brunette doctor smiled as you furrowed your brows. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Nevada.”

“I was. I got back early this morning.”

He waited for you to invite him in before shimmying passed. He set down two tote bags on the kitchen counter before turning to look at you once again. Lost for words, you locked the door and approached the young doctor. Slowly you peeked inside the bags. “Supplies.” He simply stated while taking off his coat.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You didn't have to do this doctor.” “I know.” He shrugged before reaching into one of the bags and unpacking the items. “I wanted to.” He held up a bag of coffee grounds and you couldn't help but giggle delicately.

“Thank you.” Your fingers brushed his as you grabbed the bag sending a shiver down your spine. Spencer froze feeling the sensation too. Nervously, he let his hand fall but the half-smile on his face remained.

“Where did you get this stuff anyway?” You asked as you walked around to the coffee machine. “I packed what I had at home.” Nodding, you began to prepare two cups. As the appliance whirred, you turned in your spot. “What about your mom? Wouldn't she have wanted to spend Christmas Day with you?”

Spencer continued to unpack the bags, neatly placing each item on the counter in front of him. “We spent all of yesterday together.” Pause. “And besides, she’s the one that urged me to come here.” He peered up at you, resting his palms down on the kitchen counter. The second his hazel eyes locked with yours, the flush of your cheeks turned a slender pink.

Not really thinking you ushered back towards him. The brunette doctor watched you attentively. Gently, you placed one hand on top of his and gave it a tender squeeze. “Lucky me.” You whispered staring deep into his eyes.

Spencers smile spread wider in unison with yours. After a few seconds of pure comfortable silence, he cleared his throat. “Do you think your prisoner boyfriend would mind if I asked you out on a date?” A faint giggle escaped your lips as the shade of your jowl turned from pink to bright red. “Even if he does-” You took another step towards Spencer, closing the space between you. “-I think you could handle him.”

Spencer chuckled. Using his free hand, he placed a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. His thumb stroked your cheek in the process and you angled into his pleasant touch.

“Thank you for being here.” You muttered, unintentionally chewing on your bottom lip.

He cupped your face as his gaze moved briefly down to your mouth before once again locking with yours. “Thank you for having me.” His voice soothing, not quite matching the fervour in his eyes.

In the space of a single heartbeat, he leaned down and his lips crushed against yours passionately. You let go of his hand and placed both your palms on his chest; tugging lightly at his shirt to try and pull him in even closer. Spencer did not waste a second, his now free arm moved elegantly around your waist.

The two of you pulled away breathlessly. He gently pressed his forehead to yours as you smiled. “Merry Christmas doctor.” “Merry Christmas Y/N.”

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

Secret Santa

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When you pick Loki’s name for Secret Santa, you are at a loss for what to get him. Some quality time with the God of Mischief sheds some light on the situation. Warnings: pure, unadulterated fluff; very long A/N: It’s almost Christmas now; less than a week to go! And a big thank you to my best friend @lokistan for writing the beautiful poetry for this story. I love you my bean! Happy reading all :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs @gaitwae

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“Oh my gosh, thank you Nat!” you said, throwing your arms around her shoulders in a hug. She had been your Secret Santa and gotten you the expensive jacket you’d been wanting for months. “It’s perfect.”

Christmas Eve in the Avengers Tower was full of laughter and drinks as the team exchanged Secret Santa gifts. Tomorrow morning you’d be opening regular presents, so it was tradition to set this aside for the night before. It was more fun that way, maybe because you could focus solely on the excitement of learning who had picked your name.

“You’re welcome. I know you were nervous about being able to pull it off, but it’ll look great on you,” she reassured, hugging you back. “Ok, now it’s your turn.”

You shot a nervous glance at Peter, who flashed a thumbs up. Thor, who was sitting next to you, pat your back. You stood and picked up the carefully wrapped package, all decorated in gold and green. You were nervous about what you had picked, but whether the recipient liked it or not, you were happy that this anxiety of if it was good enough or not would be over. You’d rather know. After all, you’d been feeling this way ever since you’d picked the name a week earlier...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright everyone,” Tony said, holding a stocking filled with little pieces of paper. “It’s time for Secret Santa. And remember, if you get me, cash is accepted.”

You gathered around with the rest of the team as they started to pick names. You said a little prayer that you would get Peter, your best friend, seeing as you already had about thirty different gift ideas for him. Wanda would be pretty easy, too, as you were also really close with her. In fact, looking around, you were able to come up with at least some scrap of an idea for almost everyone. Almost being the operative word. By the time Tony got to you, there was only one slip left. As you stuck your hand in the stocking, you made a silent wish that it wouldn’t be the one person you had no clue what to get for.

Please, you thought. Please be someone I know. Please don’t be...

Loki.

“And that concludes the name picking process,” Tony announced as you cast a dismayed look at the four-letter name on the paper. “You have a week to figure it out, so good luck.

“Remember, no swapping!” Steve added as the group began to disperse.

You looked around for the trickster, wondering why he was even participating. It’s not that you didn’t want him to, just that it didn’t seem like his kind of thing. From the way he was clenching his fists and scowling, you still guessed it wasn’t. Not like you really knew him all that well, unfortunately. When he’d come to the Tower, Loki seemed like he preferred the solitude. You often wondered if you should have made more of an effort to be his friend, wished that you had. There was this one time you were both reading Macbeth in a common area and had gotten into a very animated discussion about it. Nothing more ever really came of that, though, as he left for a mission the next day and didn’t return until two weeks later. By then, you’d both moved onto different books.

Later, you made a trip to the library, hoping to solve the enigma that is the God of Mischief. You were the only two people who went in their regularly and more than half the conversations you’d had with him had been held in that room. Granted they were all short, but you figured it was a start. In fact, you found yourself rather wanting to have a conversation with him right now. Yes, because of the Secret Santa thing, but also because they’d been getting more frequent recently. With every one, you realized how much you enjoyed talking to him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in his usual spot by the crackling fire. You considered just leaving, but decided you should at least make some use of this trip. You’d seen him reading some works by James Joyce most recently, and you went to go look for the one he’d had last. Maybe seeing what he likes to read could give you some gift ideas. Your eyes scanned the shelves, but you couldn’t find it. It was possible you were just remembering the cover wrong. Just as you were about to give up, someone tapped your shoulder.

“Pardon me,” Loki said as you whipped around. “I think you may be looking for this.”

He held out the copy of the book you’d been looking for and raised an eyebrow when you just stared at him blankly for a second. Who could blame you, though? He was standing rather close, and he was... Well, quite frankly, he was hot. With his raven black hair framing his smooth, pale skin, and with striking blue-green eyes that stare into your soul, he was the most handsome man you’d ever met. Then again, he wasn’t really a man, was he?

“Oh, uh, yes. Yes I am,” you said, coming to your senses. “Thank you. Did you enjoy it?”

“Very much so. I have read it five times now. I apologize for that, if you were looking for it.”

“Don’t worry about it. You have nothing to apologize for.” He looked rather surprised that you would say such a thing, and you briefly wondered how many times people had made him apologize unnecessarily. “You could even just keep it if you want.”

“No, that is alright. At least, not until you have gotten to read it, too. Perhaps we could discuss it?” he said hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping.

You looked at the title in your hands. Dubliners. You’d read a few of the short stories in high school and hadn’t enjoyed them much. But you were older now, so maybe your tastes had changed. Either way, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have another conversation with Loki. That slight smile and those intelligent eyes were just too captivating.

“That’s a wonderful idea. May I ask what your favorite is?”

“A good question. I think I will have to say Eveline. The way she ends up trapped, the mere emotion in the implication... It’s exquisitely done.”

“Wow, Loki, you have such a way with words. You’re beautiful,” you told him without thinking. As his eyes widened, you realized what you’d said and tried to cover it up. “I, um, I meant that that’s beautiful. The, ah, way you weave words. Sorry, I obviously don’t have the same ability.”

“It is quite alright. They do not call me silver-tongue for nothing, you know,” he said, though he was blushing now. “Still, I look forward to hearing your thoughts. But for now, my dear mortal, I must bid you goodbye. I have a sparring session with my brother to get to.”

He swept into a small, princely bow that made your heart stutter. Hugging the book to your chest, you waved goodbye, feeling much more awkward than he had been. You were also about a hundred times more determined to get Loki a perfect gift. You looked at the book again. It was a special first edition, unfortunately, and you couldn’t really do better than that. Besides, you got the impression he appreciated books more when they were well-loved. So, you could scratch that idea off the list.

You sighed and headed to your room for the night. Maybe an inspiration board could help you figure things out. Unfortunately, that led to you having a poster board with pictures solely of Loki. You’d meant to add other things, but you’d gotten so caught up in how beautiful he looked with his soft pink lips and carefully styled hair and... Ok, maybe you had the slightest, tiniest crush on the trickster god, but it was silly. You’d hardly even been friends for half a year. And yet, he was very hard to resist. You ended up destroying your project, cringing at the idea of anyone finding it and taking it the wrong way.

The next morning you woke up just as idealess as you had been the night before. You had been hoping that you could figure something out if you slept on it, but to no avail. Frustrated, you kicked your blankets off and got ready to attack the day. You absolutely hated the fact that you couldn’t come up with a gift idea on your own, and the last thing you wanted to have to do was ask someone else.

Splashing some water on your face, you had another idea that you quickly shut down. You’d thought for a second that maybe you could buy him some cologne, but then you realized you had no idea what scent or brand he used. In fact, you weren’t sure he used and fragrance at all. The smell of leather, pine, and old books that he had just suited him so well you couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a natural thing. Either way, he always smelled so safe, so wonderful. You cursed yourself for letting your thoughts take that turn again. It was a lot easier to ignore this crush when you didn’t have to be thinking about him 24/7.

Traipsing into the kitchen, you found Peter and Thor having an animated conversation about what was better, pecan or pumpkin pie. You wondered if you could bake something for Loki as a gift, then you realized that still required knowing what he likes. You would get him tea, but you already knew for a fact that was what Thor had gotten him as a regular present. Plus it was a special Asgardian blend, so there was no way you could top that.

“Good morning, guys,” you greeted as you tried to decide what to eat for breakfast.

“Morning,” they chorused back.

You bit your lip, coming to a split second decision. “Can I ask you two a question. It’s about Secret Santa.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Peter said while you took a seat across from them.

“Ok, this is top secret, right? So don’t tell anybody.” They both eagerly nodded their heads. “I know you’re both friends with Loki, and well, I picked his name. I have no clue what to get him, though. Any ideas?”

“I have the perfect idea!” Thor declared as you motioned for him to keep his voice down. “Get him some causal Midgardian clothes. You have excellent taste, I am sure he will love whatever you pick out.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Are you sure that’s not just what you want for him? I mean, he seems plenty happy to wear his Asgardian clothes around the Tower. And there’s nothing wrong with dressing up when you go out.” You sighed when Thor just seemed confused by your words, not understanding that his brother had embraced the Midgardian style as much as he wanted to. “I’ll just consider that a back-up plan for now. What about you, Peter? Any thoughts?”

“What if we just went shopping together?” he excitedly suggested. “Then if we see something we think is good, we can just point it out.”

You hurriedly agreed, anxious to get the gift-buying out of the way. The plan was to head out right after your training session with Nat and Steve. Unfortunately, that meant you were distracted nearly the whole time, leaving you with a few more bruises than normal. You loved your teammates to death, but boy did they ever need to learn how to ease up a little in practice. You stayed a few minutes extra to do some cool down stretches, and in waltzed the trickster god who had been occupying so much of your brain space recently. The way he was flipping and catching his daggers as he walked was slightly mesmerizing.

“My apologies,” he said, noticing you. “I did not think there was anyone else in here. I can come back later if you still need the space.”

“No!” you shouted as he began to turn away. It was a bit louder than you had meant to say it, and you mentally kicked yourself. “I mean, I was just on my way out, so please, stay.”

He smiled and set his things down on the bench next to yours. You eyed the daggers that had just been wielded by his expertly trained hands moments ago.

“May I?” you asked, gesturing to them.

He picked one up and handed it to you. Turning it over in your hands, you noticed that handles were slightly worn, but it was still excellently crafted. The blade had obviously been sharpened a great number of times before and was looking like it might need to be again. You’d never personally used a dagger in battle, but the way Loki was so graceful with them made a part of you want to.

“To be very precise with such a weapon,” Loki began as if reading your thoughts, “requires great focus and skill. There is no room for error when used to block another’s attack, and to deliver a powerful blow, you must strike in just the right spot.” A shiver of excitement shot down your spine as he picked up his other blade and began adeptly demonstrating, moving like a flowing river as he sliced the air. “It is much smaller than most weapons, sure. However, it is just as deadly. And if the sword is an extension of your body, the same can be said for the dagger tenfold.”

You blinked a couple times, beyond impressed by his majestic, fluid movements. It was breathtaking. He was breathtaking. Now you just had to find a way to say that without sounding obsessed.

“Wow, Loki,” you finally gasped, unable to hide your amazement. “I don’t know how you do it, but you even make weapons sound beautiful. And you’re very talented, too. I could never,” you nervously laughed.

“You are too kind to me, my dear mortal,” he said, and you felt a spark of pride in your chest that you were making him blush yet again. “You are not kind enough to yourself, though. I am certain you would be excellent. Perhaps you just need to find a teacher.”

“Would you teach me?” you asked, oddly worried to do so. You tried to calm your swelling nerves.

“Well, I did not mean to imply that I should be your instructor, for I fear that I would not be very good at it.” He watched your smile falter just the tiniest bit and found himself rushing to bring it back to full strength. “However, if you so desire, I can certainly try. I must warn you, it will not be easy.”

“Loki, you’d really do that for me?” Your heart beat a little faster in your chest as he shyly nodded his head yes. “I would love to. And don’t worry about going easy; I want to be as good as you.”

“Excellent! We shall have out first lesson, say, at the start of the New Year?”

After the plans were set, you excused yourself so you could meet your friends for shopping. You were late as it was, and you still had to go freshen up. The whole reason for the trip was you, and you’d feel bad to keep them waiting much longer. Still, you stole one last glance at Loki before exiting.

Hours later, you still had no gift for Loki. You barely even had an idea, much to your dismay. Peter and Thor kept pointing out little trinkets, a couple of which you did pick up as a regular gift for him, but your Secret Santa gift had to be a showstopper. Something about him drew you in, and you wanted to give him the most amazing present you could. If only it weren’t so difficult.

You were walking down a street when you happened to notice the trickster god himself in one of the store windows. You waved your companions on with the excuse you wanted to check something out for one of them and entered the shop Loki was at. For a second you considered just watching him to try to get some ideas, but that was quickly dashed when he let out a sigh of frustration. He just looked so perplexed and adorably aggravated.

“Hey, Loki,” you greeted after clearing your throat. “Funny running into you here. Are you alright?”

“Hello, my dear mortal. Thank you for asking,” he said. “I am alright. It is just this blasted Secret Santa.”

“I know what you mean,” you replied before you could help yourself. “But I’m, uh, not going to say who it is. I mean, you can tell me if you want to, but I’ve already told so many people it’ll hardly be a secret if anyone else knows,” you covered your tracks.

“Ah, I see. It is supposed to be a secret, and I do so ever hate to crack under the pressure, but I find myself in dire need of assistance. Do you suppose you could help?”

You beamed at him as you realized you’d talked with him more in the past few days than you had in the last three weeks. If there was one thing you knew, it was you had better be careful, or you’d get addicted to the sound of his voice. You were on thin ice with this crush as it was, you really shouldn’t let it blossom into more.

“Sure! I’d love to. Who do you have?” you finally said, looking around the store. “Wait, let me guess. Steve?”

“Stark.”

“Oh. Well, he did say cash was fine,” you giggled.

“Believe me, I was tempted,” Loki chuckled along with you. “But I promised Thor I would make more of an effort this time around. I do not know what he is talking about, though. Bruce loved his socks last year!”

You slapped a hand over your mouth as your loud laughter garnered a few stares from other shoppers. Loki’s eyes held only soft admiration, though, and your hands got a little sweaty from how nervous that made you. You subtly wiped them on your pants as you calmed down.

“Well, it you want to get something more personal, I might have an idea.”

“By all means, do tell,” he urged.

“You know that tool set he was talking about the other day?” you questioned, but were met with a blank stare. “I’ll take that as a no, but he was saying he didn’t want to get them because he doesn’t actually need them.”

“When has that ever stopped him before?” Loki scoffed.

“I guess he’s trying something new,” you shrugged. “But anyway, if you got them it would show you were thinking about what he actually liked and stuff. Or maybe that’s dumb, sorry.”

“No, no, it is a splendid idea!” he was quick to reassure you. For a second it seemed as if he was going to reach out and touch your shoulder, but then he thought better of it. “You do not happen to know where they are sold, do you?”

You nodded and led him out of the store you were in, towards the place where he could buy them. You were waiting at a corner for a light to change, amicably chatting. Nothing groundbreaking, just small talk. Regardless, it made your heart beat just a little faster. Still engrossed in the conversation, you took a step out into the crosswalk when the light said it was safe to go. You didn’t notice the car speeding towards you until Loki grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into his chest. You gasped as he glared after the driver, who gave no acknowledgement or apology to you. The god’s arms were wrapped around you in a protective manner, and you looked up at his face, appreciating his beauty at this close angle. Given what had just happened, probably not the thing you should be focusing on.

“My dear mortal,” he fretted, looking down at you, not yet letting go. “Are you alright? You are not injured at all, are you? Shall I take you to the hospital wing to make sure?”

“I’m ok,” you reassured him, though a part of you didn’t want to. He seemed about ready to scoop you up and use his godly strength to carry you home. Alas, your moral compass decided that wouldn’t be very fair to him. “Just a little shaken, but you saved me. Thank you, Loki. That doesn’t really cut it, but thank you so much.”

“Do not mention it. I am just glad you are alright,” he replied, though his voice did still have a tint of worry to it. Maybe you were imaging it, but he seemed almost reluctant to let you go from his tight embrace. “Now, you may carefully lead the way. Carefully,” he emphasized.

With a giggle, you brought him to the store where the tools were. After browsing the aisles for a few minutes, the two of you found the shelf they were on. With a frown, you examined the price tag.

“Sorry, Loki,” you said. “I didn’t realize how expensive it was.”

“It is fine,” he replied, looking at the cost himself. “This is actually plenty within my price range.”

You waited outside of the busy store while he made his purchase and checked your phone. You felt a pang of guilt as you noticed a number of missed texts from Peter and Thor.

Sorry guys, you texted the group chat. Ran into someone I know and got carried away. Carry on without me.

Don’t worry, came Peter’s reply. See you back home :)

You pocketed your phone as Loki walked back out, giving you a smile. You looked at the ground to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

“I hope I am not keeping you from anything,” he said as you started walking back towards the Tower. “Is there any shopping I can assist you with?”

You lamented the irony of the situation. Despite the entire point of this venture being to buy a gift for Loki, you were still empty handed. It was tempting to try to ask him what he wanted, but you were sure he was far more clever than you were subtle.

“No, I’m good, thanks. But if you don’t mind my asking, how do you have so much money?” you asked to satisfy your curiosity. “I mean, Tony’s always complaining about how you use his credit card.”

“That, my dear mortal, is simply because I can,” he replied as you both laughed. “I have been around for much longer than you might imagine. I have amassed a certain amount of wealth in my many years.”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool, actually. You’re making me wish I was an immortal being,” you joked.

“And tell me, my dear mortal, if you were to treat yourself to something nice, what would it be?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Maybe I’d go to a nice restaurant,” you finally said. “It doesn’t have to be anything too far from home. Oh! Like, Nobu has really good sushi.”

“Well then, perhaps I will have to pay for us to have a meal there sometime.”

“Yeah! I bet the team would really like that.”

“Actually,” he sheepishly said, bringing you to a stop on the sidewalk, “I meant for just the two of us to go. That is, if you would like to. Maybe one day after we start our training. You are not obligated to say yes, though. The offer for me to pay is still open if you would like to take another friend instead of me.”

“Loki, no. That’s so generous, of course I’d love to go with you,” you reassured him, settling a hand on his arm. Though, admittedly, you were beyond flustered, especially when you realized how that last sentence sounded. “I mean as friends, of course. It sounds amazing, thank you.”

“Well then, I look forward to it.” He brought his hand to rest on yours, and goosebumps erupted on your skin, not only from his cold touch, but the wave of excitement you felt. “And speaking of our lessons, I was thinking you may want some daggers of your own. We do not have to get them now but-”

“That’s it!” you suddenly shouted, then apologized for cutting him off. “Can I borrow your daggers, Loki? To go get myself a pair?”

He offered to come with you, but you waved him off, saying you’d be fine on your own. It was a little suspicious, he thought, but decided to drop it. Handing you the weapons, he bid you goodbye. As soon as he was out of eyesight, you examined the daggers, trying to get a clear picture in your mind of what you wanted.

A few quick stops later, and after gaining permission from Tony, you were in the lab, carefully crafting Loki’s gift. It took a few days, and you were by no means used to doing this kind of thing, but you were finally satisfied with the finished product. You wrapped it and then hid it with the rest of your presents, just waiting to be given to their recipients. With only a few days left until Christmas Eve, you were filled with an anxious excitement to give Loki his gift. There was nothing left to do but hope that he likes it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...You looked everywhere but at Loki as you approached him, nerves bubbling in your stomach. By the time you reached him, his mouth had curled into a soft smile. It occurred to you that you’d never seen him look that way at anyone but you. Building on the confidence that thought brought, you held out the gift.

“Here, Loki,” you told him, averting your gaze again. “This is for you.”

You perched on the edge of the coffee table across from him as he accepted the package with a thank you. There was some light chatter coming from the rest of your teammates, but it felt like the only people in the world at this moment were you and Loki, his fingers skillfully unwrapping the present. You sat on your hands to keep from fidgeting with them. It took all your focus to keep your eyes on Loki and not wandering the room in anticipation. As he opened the lid of the box and revealed what was inside, his mouth formed into a surprised “o”.

He picked up the gift, a pair of new daggers, each with a gold hilt. His name was engraved on it, and there was a band of emeralds at the top and bottom. You’d made them the same dimensions as his old ones.

“My dear mortal,” he breathed in awe, his eyes full of sincerity, coming up to met yours. “This is so thoughtful, so beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Loki. I’m really glad you like it.”

“I do. I love it,” he replied, taking your hand in his for the briefest of moments. He pulled away before anyone could really think anything of it. Neither of you said anything else, instead just staring into each other’s eyes.

“Ok, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, interrupting the moment you were sharing with Loki. “Now it’s your turn. So, who’d you get?”

“Well, actually, I picked your name, Stark. Here,” he said, nonchalantly handing over the gift. Though he seemed completely uninterested, you could tell he was a little nervous. “For you.”

“Alright, let’s see what it is. I swear, this better not be socks or-” Tony cut off, seeing the very thing he wanted. “Wow, Rock of Ages. This is really thoughtful. Thanks. I had no idea you actually listened,” he finished with a laugh.

“You are quite welcome,” Loki said, but he was more looking at you than Tony.

Later that evening, after all the gifts were given out, you were sitting by the fireplace, waiting for the flames to completely die out. You were curled up in the corner of the couch, your feet pulled up next to you, a blanket draped over your shoulders, and a book open on your lap.

“My dear mortal,” Loki’s voice suddenly said as he appeared in the doorway, pulling you from the words on the page. “I thought you were supposed to be in bed, lest Santa skip this house and move onto the next.”

“Yes, but I have to make sure the fire goes out so he can get in,” you laughed, playing along. “As long as I’m up, I wouldn’t mind some company. Care to join me?”

Wordlessly, he sat down, and you closed your book. The both of you just stared at the dying flames in a peaceful silence for a while. Your mind seemed to be content to be filled with thoughts of Loki; the way he was sitting so close, the way his hands kept brushing his hair away from his face every few moments, the way he’d looked at you earlier when he’d received your gift. After you weren’t sure exactly how long, he gently said your name, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?” you replied.

“I truly do your love your gift. It is beyond lovely, your generosity and thoughtfulness a true reflection of what is in your brilliant soul.”

“Loki, I can’t even express how happy I am to hear that. And thank you for your beautiful words.”

“Speaking of,” he nervously said, “the gift that I have for you, it is, well, my words. A poem. I am sorry to say, I would be a little self-conscious to give it to you in front of everyone else. Would I... Would I be able to recite it to you now?”

“Of course, Loki. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m just grateful that you’re willing to share it with me.”

“Alright then, my dear mortal. Here goes nothing.”

You shifted to a more position as he took a deep breath and opened up a journal. You waited with bated breath as he began to speak.

“From your eyes that shine as the brightest stars, to your smile that's a reflection of your radiant heart. From your gentle hands that fit as though they belong in mine, to your laugh that stops my perception of time. You've shown me kindness when I didn't feel I deserved it, you welcomed me into your world with a caring embrace and showed me I am not my mistakes. My heart beats stronger for you, the love that I feel couldn't be more true. If you will have me, I will show you the world, for you have shown me the universe, the place also known as your touch, as your mind, as your heart, as your soul. You, you are my universe.”

He looked at you expectantly, but with a hesitation understandable given what he’d just confessed. You wanted to tell him how you felt just as eloquently, but were dumbstruck that the feelings were even reciprocated.

“Loki,” you said, holding his cold hands in your warm ones. “That’s so beautiful and I-I love you, too.”

He seemed just as shocked as you that the feeling could be mutual. He squeezed your hands, at a loss for words for the first time since you’d known him. With no one to interrupt you this time, you remained lost in each other’s emotion-filled eyes. It was Loki who broke the silence.

“My dear mortal, I... May I kiss you?”

You answered by surging forward and pressing your lips to his. His hands came to cup your cheeks, and yours found his hair, tangling themselves in his dark locks. He tasted like heaven, and you sighed against his mouth. You could have stayed that way forever, and yet it could never be enough. Sadly, you had to pull away, but Loki was quick to pull you against him, holding you to his chest as if he didn’t believe you’d stay, didn’t believe he could have something so wonderful.

You stayed like that for a while, conveying things even words couldn’t say in the silence, just holding each other. Eventually, you began talking, enjoying the way a light conversation was flowing between you. Your eyes were drooping shut as you snuggled against his chest, the final embers of the fire going out. You glanced at the clock and saw that it read midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Loki,” you whispered. “There’s no one I’d rather be with than you.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, my dear mortal. I could write you a thousand poems, and still I would never properly express how much I feel the same.”

As sleep slowly claimed you, it occurred to you that you may have never even admitted how you feel without the whole Secret Santa ordeal. It seemed that it had revealed more secrets than you’d ever expected, and for that, you’d be forever grateful.

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ughgclden · 3 years

Note

hello friend blog!!!!!! i was wondering if mayhaps i could request something, could you write something for a f!reader who was like platonic childhood friends with neil and charlie?

hi friend!! of course you may, i hope these are okay and im so sorry for the wait!!

being childhood friends with neil and charlie headcanons !

warnings: none !

you'd been friends with charlie and neil for as long as you could remember, really.

you had all lived in the same area growing up and your parents knew one another.

because of this you’d often hang out together, telling silly stories and playing many imaginative games until nightfall.

the three of you never really grew apart as you grew older. in fact, it was the opposite.

you were closer than you had ever been, and were always there for eachother no matter the situation.

you were there for neil’s first kiss with donna evans from camp, and the time charlie broke his leg after insisting he could climb to the highest point of the apple tree in his garden. (he couldn’t).

that’s why it was so hard when the pair went off to welton, involuntarily leaving you behind.

you'd lost your two oldest friends in one go.

however, they promised you that they'd write or call as often as they could, assuring you that you wouldn't be left out.

and they stuck to their word.

you'd often get a call on the weekend from charlie, ranting about an unfair punishment he recieved from his headmaster, or a letter from neil talking about his newfound interest in acting.

you also heard a lot about their new english teacher, mr keating, who they insisted you would love if you ever got the chance to meet him.

you definitely saw the impact he had on them, both of them gaining a huge interest in poetry and english as a whole.

they'd probably let you read over some of their poetry if you wanted to.

you all looked forward to christmas, spring and summer break, making the most of the time you all had before you went back to your respective schools.

if you celebrated christmas, the three of you would participate in secret santa with joke presents, go ice-skating, and watch so many christmas movies you could quote them by the time the break was over.

it was during the summer holidays that they let you in on a ‘deep secret’, as charlie had so excitedly referred to it.

they detailed everything they could about the ‘dead poets society’ that they’d revived with the help of their friends.

neil often had to correct charlie’s overdramatised telling of events, but you quickly got the picture.

the pair begged you to join them one night, which you accepted without hesitation.

you were just glad to have your boys back.

sad times? sad times!

after neil’s death, you and charlie grew incredibly close, trying to find the missing parts of neil in eachother.

it was never the same, of course, and it always felt like something wasn’t quite right.

but you’d get through it together, like you always did.

thank you sm for the request,, i hope these were okay!! this was super fun to write ahh 💌

my masterlist

requests are open!!

#bee's headcanons ☕️#dead poets society headcanons #neil perry #charlie dalton

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monsterfuneral · 3 years

Text

just peachy | the lost boys

Relationship: Poly!The Lost Boys x Gender Neutral!Reader

Request: Can I send in a request because your writing is *chef's kiss*? I'm just having a rough day and I'm tired of having a stupid accent. I'm from Georgia and my friends always tease me about saying certain words. Could you maybe write something about the boys' so is tired of them teasing her but she doesn't say anything because she doesn't want to seem weak or something. But she starts teaching herself how to talk "correctly" and then the boys realize her accent is basically gone and then try to make her feel better? 💛

Words: 2.1k

Warnings/Tags: Angst with a happy ending, changing yourself in order to satisfy your partner(s), insecurity, *Bo Burnham voice* prolonged eye contact, and some sexual tension for absolutely no reason

Author’s Note: Ah finally, someone else in this fandom that also lives in this hell state (I’m assuming you mean the USA Georgia). As someone who literally did this as a child, thus resulting in me not having an accent anymore unless I jokingly put one on, I felt like this request so hard.

I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time right now dude, and I’m sorry it took me this long to write out but I wanted to make it as good as possible for you <3

Also thank you so much for the compliment on my writing that truly means so much.

Anywho I’ll shut up now, I hope this turned out okay and you enjoy the story!

REQUESTS OPEN

(please read my “I do NOT write” section before sending in anything <3)

---

You moved to Santa Carla at the beginning of spring, focusing on better job opportunities and using it as an excuse to explore a new place away from the south. Living in Georgia could be tiring, seeing the same thing over and over again, looking at the same buildings, driving through the same towns. Sure it was where you grew up, but it was slowly feeling less like a home. So the second you saw the opportunity to leave and live somewhere else, you took it. There were things to do, people to meet, interesting jobs that actually appealed to you.

It was nearing winter now. Sure you missed the yellowing leaves and crisp fall air that could hang around until noon. That was a sacrifice you were willing to make though, if it meant you could continue to work on the boardwalk right next to the beach. Where it was lively and something new was happening every night, keeping you interested.

You leaned over the railing, looking out at the sparkling water and over to the live concert that had packed the beach for the night. Your shift at the boardwalk’s thrift store had just ended, giving you time to catch the last song that the opening band was playing.

Arms encircled around your waist, making you snap out of your music induced daze. “Hey there sweet thing.” Paul muttered against the shell of your ear before nuzzling his nose against your neck.

The rest of the boys slowly joined, caging both you and Paul in as they looked down at the beach to the show that was still going on. David leaned his back against the railing and looked at you, winking with a cigarette burning between his lips where one corner of his lips turned upwards in a smirk. You gave him a sweet smile, pulling Paul’s arms tighter around your waist.

“Y’all are a little late tonight.” You mused, looking at Marko who leaned forward against the railing with his arms. Paul squeezed you a little tighter with a soft chuckle brushing against your ear. The boys all had a smile on their lips when they heard you talk.

You had met the boys not even a week after you had touched down in the bustling city. The four bikers, clad in leather with cocky attitudes radiating off of them staring you down. They could probably tell you were new in town, seeing how your doe eyes would stare at the boardwalk attractions in amazement. After all, the only times you had actually been any amusement parks in Georgia was when they’d open up seasonally. Even then it was rare since at the time you had a busy job to keep up with and sometimes it would get too humid to bother going anyway. Your innocent curiosity of a new location drew them in, putting up a front that they could show you around some time. After all, it was uncommon for a southerner to grace Santa Carla with their presence, so color them curious.

The boys had always assumed that people from the south tended to keep to themselves in their small towns, going to church, and gripping their racial biases tight. Plus, it had also been well over four decades since they’d been to the south, their last visit being less than stellar. So when they first met you they were weary, not knowing exactly what was in store and what direction the conversation was going to go, and if you would end up being food by the end of the night.

Luckily for all of you the conversation had actually gone very well, and the thrift store slowly started to become a spot they would drop by more frequently. They found you adorable, the accent and the way you talked, it was all just so different from what they were used to. Not long into knowing you, they started inviting you out with them, wanting to actually get to know you past where you were from and where you worked. From there your relationship blossomed into what it was now.

“Had to get a little snack before dropping by.” Marko smirked, poking Paul’s bicep “Someone had the stomach rumbles bad.”

“Ugh stop.” Paul groaned “I was hungry.”

“Well maybe you should have eaten more last night.” Dwayne chuckled softly, bumping his shoulder with Paul’s teasingly.

“I tried!” Paul argued “Michael was being a total blood hog!” All the boys collectively sent a silencing ‘shut up’ glare to the rowdy blonde.

You chuckled softly “Well next time you just gotta butt his ass out of the way.”

It was a whole two months into knowing the boys before their little fanged secret was revealed. Granted it was by accident but whatever.

It had been getting close to nightfall by the time you walked into the cave unannounced, planning on surprising them. But they were nowhere to be found so you decided to wait it out on the couch, mindlessly flipping through an old comic from Marko’s stash. When the sun had finally dropped behind the water, the boys all came flying out of a hole at the top of the cave flying in circles around the ceiling whooping and hollering, playfully chasing each other before hearing you gasp.

The conversation you all had after that lasted all night. David tried insisting that you had to turn now that you knew, while Dwayne and Marko protested, knowing that they no longer had to enforce that rule with Max being dead. Either way, six months later and it was safe to say you knew pretty much everything when it came to their lives as vampires.

From then on things had been pretty smooth sailing.

Well until recently.

Of course you knew the boys weren’t perfect, they did in fact kill people for food, so you weren’t exactly expecting to have boyfriend’s sent down from god himself. But by being with them it made you notice some things about yourself that you never really did before. Sure you knew they probably meant well, but picking at the way you said things made you feel a little insecure, in fact you were growing to dislike your accent because of it. And as a result you started to change your speech and the way you talked. The lingering thought of ‘maybe they’ll be happier like this’ in the back of your head just kept chewing away, and as a way to not come off as weak, you remained silent about the problem you had with their teasing.

If they noticed they never said anything. Not commenting on the way your speech smoothed out into something you assumed they would find more tolerable. At first you had done it just as an experiment to see if you could even do it without them noticing. Which, to you, had seemed to be the case.

Seemed to be.

Little did you know they were a lot more observant than you gave them credit for. Especially David. He had been the first to notice how you were using some words less and less, you had seemed closed off from them in general. The other boys slowly started to realize it too, noticing the almost subtle way your accent seemed to just go away after months of them hearing it. It was confusing to say the least.

Some of them- mainly Paul- had chalked it up to being around them for so long, but they knew that wasn’t the case. If it were, Dwayne’s own accent would have been long gone by now.

“Is something wrong?” David chimed out of nowhere, blowing smoke towards the stars. All eyes turned to him and you furrowed your brows in, confused. “You’re suppressing your accent. Why?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, not having expected this conversation so soon “Um… I don’t know what you’re talking about?” You tried playing dumb, hoping he would just drop the subject. But this was David and you knew that was very unlikely.

He let out a deep chuckle before sliding himself in front of you, blocking out your view of the show on the beach, and trapping you between himself and Paul. He lifted your chin with his thumb and index finger, the leather of his glove brushing against your bottom lip softly, keeping your head in place so he could look into your eyes. You felt like he was staring into your soul, reading you, attempting to pry the secrets from your brain.

“Don’t lie sweetheart.” He tilted his head, challenging you to argue back “I’ve been around for a long, long time. It’s not hard to notice a change as simple as an accent. Especially when it comes to our mate.”

Mate. This was the first time you heard him actually use the word himself. It made your heart pick up pace in your chest, and you were sure they could all hear it. He brought himself closer, not exactly caring about the public’s prying eyes at your current predicament. He cupped your jaw and brought his face closer to yours, your noses brushing against each other before he teasingly kissed the corner of your mouth. He was toying with you, making you drop your guard.

“Answer the question baby.” Paul whispered against the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

Marko and Dwayne were both leaning on the railing on either side of the three of you, looking out at the ocean as if this wasn’t even happening. Well, with the occasional side eye in your direction.

David pulled away, and you subconsciously chased after him, seeking more contact. You let out a quiet whine, glaring at him as he took yet another drag from his cigarette.

“Well?”

“Fuck- Okay fine.” You mutter in defeat, no longer seeing a use in trying to fight them when they already suspected the truth. “I didn’t want to say anythin’, I mean it’s really not anything to get worked up over. It’s just that I’m tired of being teased for how I say stuff.” The accent slowly melded into your words, slight slip ups that had been harder to tame with the little time you’ve been training yourself to speak more ‘correctly’. “So uh- I thought I’d try and talk a little more normally.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Dwayne asked, his attention now fully on you.

You shrugged, slightly embarrassed “I don’t know. I mean it wasn’t your problem, and I thought it might be a little less annoying to hear me talk, y’know like-”

“Like Paul?” Marko interrupted, receiving a punch in the shoulder from the wild haired blonde.

Paul shook his head softly like a disappointed parent “No cool man.”

A laugh left your lips, glad that they were being at least a little light hearted about it. “No. I guess I just kinda assumed you guys didn’t like it. So I just thought- well you know.”

The conversation went silent, all of them staring at you before looking at each other. Dwayne was the first to crack from his stony expression and smile at you, his cool hand coming to smooth over your warm cheek. He caressed your skin gently with his thumb, silently admiring you for a second.

“All you had to do was talk to us. I could’ve told Paul and Marko to shut the hell up for you.” He joked, making you smile with him before laughing. “You don’t have to change yourself to please us. That’s not something we expect from you.”

Paul let go of you, spinning you around and catching you before you tripped over your own feet. “Yeah! You could have totally said something! You’re not gonna hurt our feelings or anything babe.” He brought you to his chest, giving your cheek an overly wet kiss, trying his best to lighten your mood. David’s hand smoothed up from your shoulder blade to your shoulder, the cool leather welcome against the heat on your neck. He brought himself closer, trapping you against himself and Paul once again, if not bringing himself closer this time.

Marko smirked at the way your eyes clouded over slightly, “Yeah I mean… If anything I think it’s kinda hot.” He said, tracing the lapel of the leather jacket you wore, twirling the dark purple squid lures he had gifted you around his index finger. His eyes were lidded when he looked at you, a cocky smirk on his lips.

You wanted so badly to tell him to fuck off, but oddly enough the reassurance did help. Realizing that you in fact did not have to change in order to please them, and that’s not what they wanted from you was like a breath of fresh air. It lifted a weight from your shoulders and you were thankful for it, leaving you wishing you had said something sooner. You loved them, and while being in Santa Carla was a huge change in your life, you wouldn’t want to experience it with anyone else other than them.

#dwayne the lost boys #david the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #marko #paul #david #dwayne #The Lost Boys 1987 #the lost boys #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys imagine #tlb imagine #tlb 1987 #poly tlb #tlb #monster writes

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