#I guess her holiday is being able to be as mean and paranoid as she wants | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

venuslore · 3 months

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𖥔 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𖥔

summary ; your valentine’s day takes a turn when what you think is just a surprise from peter turns out to be a lot more than you bargained for.

pairing ; mcu!peter parker x fem!reader

notes ; fluff, some mentions of anxiety, but mostly just peter being an oblivious lil himbo baby! this is a repost from my old acc x

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

with valentine’s day just around the corner, it was easy to find yourself paranoid about the entire holiday and what exactly it meant for you and peter.

while for most people, it was a celebration of love and being able to embrace that, for you, it had become an anxiety-induced menace of a day that had you second-guessing everything.

the worst part of all was that you and peter technically weren’t together.

yet, as the days grew closer and you continued to get your hopes up, it was hard not to feel disheartened when he hadn’t uttered a single word about it. leading you to wonder if he had even given it any thought or if you were simply just getting in over your head about the whole thing.

to any stranger passing you by on the street and witnessing just how affectionate you were with each other, you looked like a couple. heck, you had even shared the occasional kiss, sometimes a little more, and on days when you would go to his apartment to study, it was never long before you’d find yourself snuggling in his bed while he tried to do homework over the top of you.

you never really cared to put a label on your situationship until now, and mostly because you didn’t think you had to.

but when the day finally arrives and peter was yet to exhibit any efforts in the name of romance, you were devastated.

“so, he really hasn’t said anything?” mj asks as you head to your locker, having just finished your last class of the day.

“nope. not a word,” you shake your head.

with her brows furrowing into a scowl, mj exhales, “man, i really thought he would have. i mean… it’s peter. the dude is literally the biggest softie i have ever met.”

despite the sadness you were feeling, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at your best friend’s words. she was the only one that knew how strongly you felt for peter.

after all, she was the one to point it out.

“i don’t know, maybe i’m just looking too much into it?” you lift your shoulders into a shrug at the same time you reach your locker.

“well, speak of the devil,” mj gestures towards the end of the hallway where peter and ned had just rounded the corner.

it only takes them a moment to catch sight of you, and when they do, peter beams with a smile and waves before heading in your direction. even as they passed by multiple girls carrying flowers and the various heart-shaped decorations scattered all over the halls, peter still hadn’t noticed.

“hey! ned and i were talking about going back to mine to study for that test we have coming up, and maybe watch a movie. you guys in?” he asks, tugging on the straps of his bag, completely ignorant to his surroundings.

it was like he had forgotten about the holiday’s existence altogether, or he was actively trying to avoid it. but why?

“i can’t. i, uh, i actually have a date tonight,” mj says, tucking her hair behind her ear as all eyes turn in her direction.

“wait, what? with who?” you ask, this being the first you were hearing about it. honestly, you were surprised she had even told you at all.

shaking her head, she looks down at her feet and shrugs, “just this guy. it doesn’t matter. but, uh, y/n is free tonight so… there’s that.”

the second the words leave her lips, peter’s attention returns to you. and you weren’t entirely sure, but it almost looked like he was relieved that you had no plans.

a small smile dangled on the corner of his mouth, and his deep brown eyes softened as they met yours. “oh, okay. well, uh, do you want to join us?” he sort of fumbles over his words.

while it wasn’t exactly what you had imagined spending the most romantic day of the year with peter would be like, it beat having to sit at home alone wallowing in your own self-pity. even if it was with the person causing it… and ned.

you open your mouth to speak when you’re interrupted by ned’s phone.

“actually, change of plans,” he says. “it’s betty… and she wants to see a movie tonight.”

“i thought you two broke up?” mj narrows her eyes with confusion.

“we did… but maybe she wants to get back together?” he turns to peter with hopeful eyes, and after a moment, the other boy gives him a nudge.

“dude, go!” he laughs. and just like that, ned rushes down the hall in search of betty, leaving the three of you dumbfounded as you let out a chorus of chuckles.

“on that note, i better get going too,” mj says once the laughter faded into sighs and points the same way ned had gone. “i’ll see you losers monday. have fun, studying.”

rolling your eyes, you wave goodbye to the girl, as the thought of being alone with peter all night creeps into your mind.

the idea alone causes your heart to fasten, thrumming loudly in your ears as your mouth becomes dry with nerves. it wasn’t like you at all to be so anxious around peter, and so much so that you almost couldn’t think straight. he was typically the one person you went to when you needed things to slow down, not make them difficult.

you try to play off the effect he was having on you as you close your locker and swing your bag over your shoulder, but the second your gaze meets his again, it only seems to amplify.

“so, it looks like it’s just you and me,” he shuffles awkwardly on his feet, tightening his grip on his bag straps once more.

“uh, yeah. looks like it.” you smile, swallowing the ball that had formed in your throat, and the two of you slowly head towards the exit.

the walk back to his apartment is quiet at first, but the second peter starts talking about the chemistry assignment he had coming up, there was no stopping him. though, you couldn’t shake the feeling like he was purposely trying to prolong the walk.

he insisted that you take the longer route, which you never do, and he even slowed down his pace through the park. and as you were passing the deli-grocery, he stopped off to buy you both a sandwich, which wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but it did add another fifteen minutes to your time.

it was like he didn’t want to get back to the apartment, like the thought of being fully alone with you was something he didn’t want to partake in.

when you do finally reach the apartment, however, he fumbles to unlock the door and almost drops the keys in the process, but the second it’s open, you’re hesitant to even step inside. you had been there a million times before but this time, for whatever reason, felt different.

you wondered if it really were such a good idea for you to be there, to be alone with him when he was clearly opposed to the idea. which was odd considering he had been the one to initiate you going over there in the first place.

“do you want a drink or anything?” he asks as he passes the kitchen to put his bag in his room.

most days, you would follow him straight to his room, sometimes even beating him there, but with how he had been acting, it just didn’t feel right. so you lingered in the living room instead.

at least, until he pops his head out of the door, and with a reassuring smile surfacing on his lips, he gestures for you to follow.

“we’ve got water, juice or soda?” he asks as you enter the room, dropping his bag at the foot of his bed.

“water is fine,” you nod.

“okay, give me a sec,” he nods back, and having to cram past you to get out of the door, his hand runs down your arm so to not squish you. the touch immediately sends a pulse throughout your body, causing you to let out a small gasp.

you were just grateful peter was far enough away that he hadn’t heard it, or if he did, he didn’t show it.

with peter leaving you alone in his room, you take the chance to take it all in like you hadn’t been there before. you drop your bag beside his and slip out of your jacket before falling into a stupor on his bed.

peter’s room had always been comforting to you, though, since the blip, it didn’t quite feel like it was his anymore.

like everyone else that tragically disappeared, peter lost the majority of his belongings, as did you, but he no longer had any of his action figures or comic books. even the nerdy science posters that you would pick on him for, or his lego models - all the things that made peter’s room… his… was all gone.

shaking away the thoughts, you bury yourself in the comfort of his sheets, letting your fingers dance across the cotton as you wait for him to return. but when you move to grab your phone from your jacket pocket, something in the corner of your eye catches your attention.

it was the smallest glimmer of something red inside his closet, and the door was only open a crack, but it was enough to make your thoughts go wild.

was it possible that peter had bought you something for valentine’s day and this whole thing was just a ruse to get you alone with him? were ned and mj in on it? or had he decided against it, thinking that maybe it was too much, and that’s why it was hidden away in his closet?

perhaps that was why he had been acting so strange and why he had been pretending like today was nothing but any other regular day?

however, before you get the chance to relieve your suspicions, peter walks back in with two glasses of water, and when he sees that you had already made yourself comfortable, he draws in his bottom lip as a nervous smile takes hold of his features.

“something tells me you have absolutely no intention of studying,” he shakes his head.

“something tells me you’re right.” you pat the spot beside you, and he obliges, pulling his laptop from the desk beside the bed and finding a movie for you both to watch.

while you enjoyed laying with peter in comfortable silence, watching the film he had chosen, you couldn’t stop thinking about what was in his closet. the tiny sliver of red teasing you from between the slats, begging for you to confront it.

nevertheless, it takes two hours for peter to finally leave the room again, and within that time, he hadn’t mentioned it at all. which only made you all the more curious.

so the second he stepped out of the room, you set into motion to find out what it was he was hiding. and you knew you shouldn’t have, but not knowing was killing you, and you simply couldn’t help yourself.

you tip-toe across the floor, avoiding the creaky spot in the middle, and after a deep breath, you slowly open the door. though, what you were expecting to be a heart-shaped balloon or a cute stuffed animal that said something like ‘be my valentine?’ on the front, was far from what you had imagined.

instead, hanging on the metal rod was a suit. a suit that you would recognise absolutely anywhere with it’s distinct red and black colours, and who could forget the unmistakable mask with its intricate detailing.

then it hits you, and a shiver of realisation rolls down your spine.

setting out a gasp, you drop the suit to the floor and stumble back into the bed, knocking over a book in the process. you couldn’t believe what you had just discovered, and you barely get a moment to collect yourself before peter comes running to the door.

“hey, are you-” he stops the second he sees the suit, his smile falling as he takes in your bewildered state and it transforms into a look of horror.

“peter, i-”

“shit,” he exhales, cutting you off as he reaches for the material and throws it back into his closet as fast as he can, despite knowing that the damage was already done. “don’t look at that. that’s nothing. completely and totally nothing.”

“peter, was that - are you?” you try to get the words out, but you’re still in so much shock that it seems near impossible to do so.

“no. nope. It’s not…” he shakes his head rapidly, leaning against the closet now. “it was, uh, it was a gift from may. she knows i like superheroes, so, y'know?”

“peter…”

“it’s nothing, really. i promise. it was just a-”

“peter…”

“i was thinking of maybe even wearing it for halloween this year, what do you think? you could go as black widow, or umm, captain marvel?”

“peter!” this time when you say his name, he stops talking, realising that there was no way he was going to get out of this. and if he did, it would be a miracle. but you were smart, smart enough not to believe the nonsense that was pouring out of his mouth, and know that this was for real.

his head falls with defeat, and he drags himself to sit beside you. the air was heavy now, filled with worry as he tried to choose his words carefully. there were only so many ways you could tell someone you had a secret identity being a superhero and he had wanted to do it perfectly - but most importantly, not like this.

“look, i - i hated not being able to tell you but if everyone knew who i was then my life wouldn’t be the same anymore."

"but, this is me we’re talking about peter. i’m the same person that knows you still wear star wars underwear, and that you secretly love it when i choose to watch twilight on movie night.” you sigh, shoulders slumping slightly. “you can tell me anything.”

his eyes soften at your remark, and the ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “i know, but i wanted… i wanted to keep you safe. there are bad guys out there that would like to come after spider-man and you knowing who i am, only puts you in danger."

"who else knows?"

"may, ned and… mj.”

“mj?” you retort.

“to be fair, i didn’t tell her. she worked it out herself and i swore her to secrecy so don’t be angry at her for not telling you.” he raises a finger to further prove his point. “i was actually planning on telling you about it tonight, but every time i thought about it, i got nervous and i couldn’t do it.”

“so that’s why you’ve been acting so weird?” you ask, nudging the boy’s shoulder playfully as relief washes over you. “and here i am thinking that it was me. the only reason i looked in your closet was because i… i thought… never mind it’s stupid.”

he chuckles, “no. you have to tell me now!”

you let your head fall back for a moment, and after letting out a deep breath, you sway your head back down. “okay. i saw the red through the cracks and i thought that maybe… it was a valentine’s day present. i know we never really put a label on… us… but i just, i don’t know, i thought that maybe that’s where we were and-”

your words turn into muffles as peter presses his lips to yours in a swift movement, and you’re taken back by his actions but you don’t push him off. your body feels electric and you kiss him back with a smile, sinking into it more before he pulls away.

he doesn’t pull back much, and instead, rests his forehead against yours as you both try to catch your breath. your heart thumps in your chest and you’re still so close that you were sharing the same air.

peter had kissed you many of times before, some of them turning into heated make-out sessions but this was different to any of those. this had purpose.

“sorry, you were rambling and i couldn’t help myself.” a coy smile flashes across his face for a moment, before being replaced with a look of uncertainty. “was that enough for you to see how i feel about you? or would you rather i change my relationship status too? or i could just post to the entire world about how much i love you?”

upon hearing the words, you pull away and a shallow gasp escapes you. you weren’t sure if peter had meant to say it, but whether he did or not, it was out there now and your heart pangs inside your chest as your stomach fills with butterflies.

“you love me?” you say between breaths and disbelief in your eyes.

he lets out a nervous laugh as his cheeks redden, and his fingers play with the folds of his shirt. “i mean, yeah… you’re kinda my favourite person in existence. it’d be hard not to.”

“really?”

he nods and walks back over to the closet. “yeah. also if you had of looked in the other side of my closet you would’ve seen this…"

you watch as he opens the closet door to reveal a beautiful bouquet of white and red flowers all wrapped up in bright red paper.

"i was going to give it to you when i told you about… y'know…” he widens his eyes. “but you sort of did that for me… plus, there was also this.”

this time he pulls out a small bag, something that you’d find at a jewellery store, and hands it to you. you look to him as though to be asking permission to open it, and he nods, gesturing for you to do so before leaning against his desk.

“it’s not a lot, and i’ve been saving for a while now to get it for you, but if you don’t like it then we can exchange it or get something else…”

opening the bag, you find a small box with gold detailing around the sides. and when you open it, inside sits a bracelet decorated with charms, but the one in the middle, that you can’t really see unless you’re looking close enough is a 'p’.

after a moment of basking in the sentiment of it all, you lean back and give him a warm smile.

“i love it,” you say, tears slowly starting to brim your eyes as your mouth involuntarily starts to crease. “and i love you.”

“yeah?” peter’s brows twitch, his eyes never leaving yours, and he lifts your palm to his lips for a feather-light kiss. he barely touches you, but it sets your skin alight.

then all of your focus is on him as you stand to meet him, enveloping him in another kiss. hands moving along his chest to fall behind his neck as he wraps his own around your waist and holds you tight. pulling you as close to him as humanly possible.

when you do finally pull apart, he clasps the bracelet around your wrist before you slide your fingers through his, savouring the warmth of his skin against yours.

“so, since you have two identities does that mean i get double the love?” you let out a small chuckle and peter matches it.

“i think i could manage that.” he says and places one more kiss on the tip of your nose.

#— ꒰ ‧ ₊˚ vee daydreams ˖꙳‧ ꒱#peter parker ᰔ #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker oneshot #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff

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dontworrysunflower · 3 years

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Merry Fucking Christmas | h.s.

a/n: i’m baaaaccckk!! lol idk it took me a while to finish this and i was gonna have it finished before christmas but then i was exposed to covid so i was little paranoid but anyway (i’m good tho). merry christmas and happy holidays!! i know this years been hard but hopefully we can make it a little better :)

warnings: drinking, angst?? idk not proof read word vomit, some language too

word count: 3.1k

also thank you @watchmegetobsessed !!

feedback/reblogs appreciated

You knew the holidays this year were going to be difficult. You procrastinated on getting gifts for your friends. Your work seemed to pile up on your desk since you got your promotion. You weren’t able to fly back home, and you still had some thanksgiving weight you weren’t able to put off.

Oh yeah, another thing. Harry was still with his girlfriend.

You met Katy, Harry’s girlfriend, at his birthday party in February. She was the epitome of ‘his type’. She had bleach blonde extensions and the bluest eyes you've ever seen. She was tall and really, really loud.

Since then, she’s all he ever talked about when they weren’t together, but when they were in the same room, boy did you want to gag.

You thought they would last maybe three to four months, you were so sure, you bet with some of your other friends.

Needless to say, you lost quite a lot of money.

You tried not to let it bother you, really. But it was so hard when Harry is the literal sweetest person you’ve met, had the voice of an angel and wasn’t bad to look at.

You felt you were the closest with Harry when you moved to London. He made you feel welcome in your little friends group. There was a little flirting game between the two of you that you didn’t even notice until one of your friends brought it up.

“Oh c’mon, it’s so obvious you like each other.” Margot slurred, her second glass clinking against the table as she finished every drop.

“What?” You asked, baffled. Your eyes were wide and your face started to heat up. “He doesn’t like me.”

“But you like him?” Ava, a friend from work, smirked at you.

You stumbled on your words, wiping at the condensation on your glass.

But since he was in a relationship now, you felt almost icky around him. You felt so uncomfortable around him that you did whatever you could to not be in the same room as him.

You were ready for the holidays, you thought. It would give you a break from constantly thinking about him being so busy with your family back in your hometown.

You should’ve known London weather wouldn’t be in your favor. It rained constantly everyday and the fog seemed to get closer to the ground every other day. The weather was getting so bad that you started working from home, the roads too wet and icy to drive on. So honestly, you weren’t that surprised when airports closed due to the weather, meaning you had to spend Christmas in London.

With Harry.

The day after flights were cancelled Harry texted on your group chat saying he could host a dinner and party on Christmas eve and everyone was invited. You watched texts from your other friends flood in, some excited vulgar words were thrown in there as well.

You never responded. Not only because you still felt weird around him for having this massive crush on him, but because things haven’t really been the same between you two.

You can’t remember the last time you had a full on conversation with him before you had to excuse yourself because you couldn’t take the ache in your chest when you were around him, and he wasn’t yours. You can’t remember the last joke he ever told you or when you went out for lunch or drinks when it was only the two of you. You were sure he noticed how weird you were around him, but never said anything, so you let it be.

As the day neared, your mind would change on whether you were going or not. You didn’t want to seem bitchy and cold on what was supposed to be the happiest and cheerful day of the year, so you thought you would go. You thought of every reason you shouldn’t go that had nothing to do with Harry, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him cozy up with his very serious girlfriend.

But there would be alcohol, so you decided to go.

•••

Hey (y/n)! Think you come over early and help me set up for tomorrow? H xx

You stared at the text for what seemed like hours, but it was only a couple seconds. Before you could even register what your fingers were doing, you tied up a quick message and hit send before you could stop yourself.

Of course!! See you tomorrow!

You hated yourself for the rest of the day. Why would you do this to yourself? You could barely be in the same room as him and some other friends. How would you survive being alone before the party started?

•••

The butterflies in your stomach have not been able to settle since you woke up Christmas Eve morning. Just the thought of seeing him made you nervous. You almost didn’t get out of bed that morning. But you pat yourself on the back when your feet finally hit your wooden flooring and moved on with your day.

Your shoulders hung low beside you as the time to meet up grew closer, the sun lowering behind you, Christmas lights and inflatable decorations coming to life as stars dotted the sky.

You sighed heavily as you styled your hair and naturally did your makeup.

You slid on your silky, tight dress and grabbed your coat and quickly made your way to your car to get away from the bitter cold.

You rubbed your hands together, blowing into them to regain some feeling before turning the key into the ignition, quickly turning the heater on, Mariah Carey blasting through your speakers.

You were about to pull out of your driveway, mumbling along to Mariah’s notes when you realized you forgot the gifts.

•••

Your shoulders were hunched up as you knocked on the white door, your foot tapping against the brick stairs of Harry’s house as you waited for him to open it in the freezing cold.

You could hear shuffling from the other side and watched the doorknob wiggle, Harry having trouble with his lock since June and still hasn’t had anyone fix it.

The door swings open to reveal Harry in his glory, brown corduroy pants and an ugly Christmas sweater under an apron that’s tied around his slender waist that you’ve always been jealous of.

“Hey, sorry, come on in.” Harry said to you before moving out of the way, a bowl nestled between his side and his arm.

You mumbled a quiet thank you before stepping in, your cheeks reddening at the warmth enveloping you as you walked through the foyer of his home.

“Mm,” he hummed as he remembered something. He puts down the bowl he had on his white kitchen counter and waddles over to you, a small curve on his lips as he wrapped his arms around you. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You hate that nickname. But you don’t. You hate the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when he says that word. You hate the goosebumps it causes you and the hairs sticking up on your neck when he says the one thing you feel too harshly for him. And you hate how much he doesn’t feel it back.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.” You mumbled into his neck, his cologne flooding your senses bringing you comfort.

He doesn’t let go of you yet, but he backs up just a little to see you. “You look gorgeous, (y/n).”

The air gets stuck in your lungs and you almost forgot how to formulate words. You hoped Harry thought the pigment on your cheeks would be from the cold because it totally was. Before it was obvious how his words affected you, you stuttered out a few words. “Thank you, you look nice too.”

He chuckled at you, the breath passing his lips hitting your neck, a tingle passing through your spine. “You don’t have to lie, darling.” He squeezed you one last time before letting you go, your body instantly becoming colder as he backed away.

There's a low hum of Christmas music playing in his surround sound system, a tall tree tucked in a corner between his burning fireplace and window looking out onto the street.

You turn your attention back to Harry as he speaks up again, his famous dimples puncturing his cheeks. “Thanks fo’ comin’ early to help me out.”

You rolled your coat off your shoulders and hung by the door, walking up to him as he moved around the kitchen. “Oh yeah, it’s no problem. Not like I had anything else to do.”

He gave you a small sympathetic smile before throwing a tray full of greens into the oven. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go see your family.”

You shrug as you run your finger on the edge of his marble counter. “It’s alright, nothing I can do much anyway.” You perk up when you remember what you’re doing here so early in the first place. “Guess that’s why I’m here, no? What can I help you with?” Your heels click as you move around the counter closer to him.

“Nope.” His lips puckered as he pushed you back to where you were standing. “Just stand there and talk to me. Wine?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you blindly nod, watching him uncork a bottle of Moscato. Your favorite.

He hands you a glass of the sparkling wine before turning back around to the dishes, prepping food of all kinds for everyone and most importantly; eggnog.

“But, you said you needed my help.”

He chuckled nervously, his cheeks reddening. From your comment or from the wine? You weren’t going to get your hopes up. “I just need some company before the party. Just stand there and look pretty.”

You try your hardest ignore the blush on your cheeks. You twirl the wine glass from the neck, watching the liquid swirl around in the depths of the glass. “What about Katy?”

He sighs deeply, opening the oven to check on the food. “We’ve been kind of fighting lately.”

You did your best to stop the grin from forming on your lips, hoping he did notice your sudden burst at the new information. They are still together, so you can’t act on anything. “I’m sorry. Can I ask what’s going on?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know really. Anything and everything. Every little thing I do annoys her and anything she does annoys me. It just wasn’t the same.”

“Is she coming?” You ask before you can think about it.

He shrugs again, shoulders hanging more than usual. “I don’t think so. She said she was staying home since she can‘t fly back to her family either.”

A silence hangs between the two of you when neither of you said anything, not really sure of what needs to be said next.

“I don’t think I feel the same way for her as I did in the beginning.” Harry mumbled, arms crossed over his chest as his hip leaning against the counter, his usually bright eyes a little darker, a little sadder.

You walk up to him and lay your hand on his shoulder, giving him a small smile. “It’s not my business but, if you really feel that way, you shouldn’t lead her on, it’ll only hurt both of you.”

Harry looks down at the floor as he nods. “Thanks, love.”

There’s a wave of silence between you again as he raises his head to look at you. You almost felt small under his gaze. Something about his crystal green eyes always made you nervous. You were scared he could see what you were really thinking.

And you also swear his eyes fell to your lips.

•••

The dinner party was in full swing now, people’s laughter bleeding in with the loud Christmas music playing around the house. Some people were dancing in front of the fireplace, drinks being refilled every once in a while.

You were standing by the counter with your friends, Margot and Ava, chatting and drinking your eggnog instead of the wine you had before the party started. You had completely forgotten about the wonderful man hosting this party, the conversation you had earlier with him slipping your mind as the drink in your hand lowered to the bottom of the glass, intoxicating your thoughts.

Even though you offered to help, Harry didn’t let you help with the rest of dinner before everyone came over, so now the food still wasn’t ready as people flooded in. You heard him say something about potatoes and that was as much as you knew of the food preparation and when you would be able to eat.

The music is lowered a bit and then a clicking sound was heard, everyone turning their heads towards Harry, who clinked a fork against his glass. “Dinner is ready!”

Everyone cheered and started making their way towards the dining room. Most people had already filtered towards the next room when a knock on the front door was heard.

You turned your head as Harry twisted the knob. You were sure Harry's face mimicked yours when you saw who was standing at the doorway.

There stood Katy, hair newly bleached and a little overdressed.

She wasted no time in wrapping her arms around him, her plump lips repeatedly marking his face with the bright lipstick.

“Oh god,” you waltzed over towards Ava, who was pouring herself a new glass of eggnog. “pass me the eggnog, I can’t stand this sober.” You pushed her over slightly and grabbed the handle of the ladle she was using, filling up your cup almost to the brim.

Ava looked at you in curiosity at your sudden change, carefully looking over at the lovely couple still by the door. “Wait, I thought you told me they were fighting.” She whispered beside you, eyes widening as she watched you gulp down some of the eggnog you just served yourself to give yourself some more.

“Guess fucking not.” You were much less sober now, on the brink of tipsy and drunk. Your words slurred, eyelids heavy, vision blurry. “Let’s go fucking eat.” You dragged Ava by the wrist towards the commotion in the dining room, almost, but not quite forgetting about the couple behind you.

•••

You’ve had four glasses of eggnog. Or was it five? But now, you stand in front of the bowl, pouring some into your glass again, making it six.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” You hear his sultry voice behind you, his tone a little sassy and annoyed, but you didn’t care.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You slurred, turning around to face him. His pink lips were turned down in a frown, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration, his buff arms that were constricted in his sweater cross in front of his chest. “Gonna go kiss your girlfriend some more?” You stumbled on your feet, your drink almost spilling over the rim.

“What does that have to do with anything?” His face changed from annoyance to confusion. His thumb twisting the ring on his other finger nervously.

You open your mouth to retaliate, but even in this drunk state you knew not to say anything. You chug the creamy drink, keeping eye contact with him, watching his face change again. You didn’t care.

He obviously didn’t care either.

You sighed dramatically as you finished the drink. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

•••

You had sobered up quite a bit after your little encounter with Harry, mainly because there was no eggnog left.

You realized it was for the better though, so you made your way back into the kitchen, doing your best to not stumble or bump against anything as you grabbed an empty cup to fill with water.

“I am really sorry.” You knew his voice anywhere. But it wasn’t his usual chirpy, charming voice he had that always soothed you, it sounded more sad and somber.

“On Christmas? Out of any day you chose today?” Katy sniffled, voice wobbly and hurt.

“I know but, you know we can’t go on any longer, we’ll just hurt each other more.”

“I think I'm going to head out.”

You don’t hear Harry say anything back, but the sound of the door clicking open catches your attention and you almost turn around to watch.

“I just have one question.” Katy said weakly.

You walked away before you could hear anything else.

•••

Even though you were still a little upset at Harry (For what? You weren’t sure anymore), you stayed behind as everyone left to help him clean up before you head home.

You were putting things back in his refrigerator when you heard the front door close, the light chatter and drunken goodbyes silenced by the wooden door.

You kept your back towards the door, suddenly nervous of the words that would be spoken between the two of you.

“(y/n), can we talk?” Harry’s voice was low and sultry, your knees almost gave out.

“I should um-I should get going. It’s late.” You hurry around him to grab your things and for the door, but he holds your wrist.

“Please?” He sounded desperate, and for the first time in what felt like days you looked up into his emerald eyes. There was that desperate look in his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down into a frown.

You sigh and nod slowly.

He lets go of your wrist and stuffed his hands in his back pockets, his pink cheeks either from the cold or from nervousness.

“I’m sorry.” He said suddenly. “I didn’t mean to get mad and I know I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Is that it?

You weren’t going to lie, you thought he would profess his love to you or something.

“I um- I also,” he swallows and takes your hand, his rings cold to the touch. “I broke up with Katy.”

Your mouth opened for words to come out but nothing ever left your lips.

“Do you want to know the real reason why Katy and I were fighting?”

You’re still speechless, scared of the answer, even though you have an idea of what he'll say.

“I’ve always liked you, (y/n).” His shoulders rise in a deep breath. “I guess, I don’t know, I thought if I started seeing someone else it would it easier but, not being with you this past year has been hell and I know I haven’t made it any easier with being with Katy but—”

Your lips crash on his, your arms wrapping his neck, your fingers immediately tangling in his brown locks.

He stumbles back in shock but grabs at your hips, bringing you closer to his chest.

His pink lips press against yours, the corners slowly turning up into a smile, breaking your kiss.

“Merry fucking Christmas to me.”

•••

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hazel-light · 3 years

Text

Chapter Word Count: ~7,400

Total Fic Word Count: ~30,000

Genre: (Wedding) Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, lots of bed sharing and every self indulgent fluffy trope possible.

Warnings: None? Lots of fluff? Occasional cussing? Some suggestive themes, moments, and jokes I guess. No smut or anything!

Disclaimer: I am not Daniel Sharman, and I do not pretend to know how he would act, speak, etc. This is fiction okay, there’s a lot of creative license, and potential to be OOC. Ricky isn’t mentioned because I started writing this before we knew he existed, so apologies for that. Also, if you’re DShar himself, please do us both a favor and don’t read this, okay???? Same if you know him 🙈

Title taken from the song Yellow Lights by Harry Hudson which suits this story quite a bit!

A/N: You thought I'd skip all the possibilities and tropes that come with the holidays?! Of course not. This is the final part to Yellow Lights. Thank you all for making my return to writing and posting so wonderful. I am so, so, grateful. I hope the ending lives up to your expectations. <3

The next month and a half passes by uneventfully. I try not to spend all of my time thinking about how great Rachel's wedding was, and equally try to ignore the wistful feeling Henry’s wedding left me with. Having Daniel be my fake boyfriend in front of my family showed me everything that I’d ever wanted; someone who fit in seamlessly, who loved me for me, with the perfect balance of romance and friendship. Whatever crush I had successfully buried when Daniel and I first met is now achingly hard to avoid. I curse my active imagination and optimism for letting me indulge in the moments of pretend, leaning too comfortably into our façade.

As a result, I don’t talk to Daniel much. He is busy finishing filming his project in London, and I try to focus on my life in LA. I’ve become paranoid that every text I send him is one too many, too annoying, or too bothersome. I figure I can reassess things when Daniel comes home from filming, and try to find my footing in our friendship again.

This seems like a solid plan until I’m on Zoom with my family for Thanksgiving. Since I’ve already flown back once this year for the wedding, and I’m planning to fly back again next month for Christmas, staying put for Thanksgiving was the economical choice. The call is mostly uneventful until the subject of Daniel comes up.

“Where’s that boy?” Aunt Judith crows from her spot at the dining table.

“Hmm?” I ask.

“She means Daniel.” Ryan rolls his eyes, bringing the iPad closer to her.

“Oh! Right.” I try to recover. “He’s still away filming his new project, actually, but I was able to fly out to see him at the end of September for another wedding, actually.”

Aunt Judith frowns. “That’s a long time to not see someone that handsome—” I start to laugh, “Are you sure he’s not cheating on you?”

Oh shit. It’s in this moment that I realize Daniel and I had never “broken up” as far as my family knows. I hear the rest of my family start sputtering in the background.

“Aunt Judith— you can’t just—”

“That’s awful, I—”

“It is kind of a long time, huh?—”

I try to keep a straight face. “Guys! It’s okay. He’s an actor, it comes with the territory. I expected this.”

“So you aren’t sure that he’s not cheating on you?” Ryan frowns.

“That isn’t what I meant, Ry. Daniel and I are fine. We’re really good, actually.”

“Well I certainly hope you’ll be bringing him home for Christmas then.” Aunt Judith huffs.

“It would be nice to see him,” Rachel speaks up for the first time, and her husband Nick nods. “I didn’t get to talk to him a whole lot at the wedding.”

I clear my throat, my mind racing. “You know, we haven’t actually talked about what we’re doing for Christmas yet; I’ll have to see what he’s doing— if he’s going to spend it with his family.”

“But you’re still coming home,” Ryan states.

“Yes, I am still coming home, no matter what.”

Ryan and Rachel’s mom, my auntie Kim speaks up. “I think it’s pretty common for a boyfriend to defer to his girlfriend’s family for the holidays. I mean, Ryan splits the day with Katharine of course, but Nick always came here with Rachel.”

“I hear you, Auntie Kim, but Daniel never gets to see his family so I’m not sure— all I’m saying is I’m not sure. He may very well come, and I will let you all know as soon as I know.” I smile tersely.

“Well hurry up, and find out,” Auntie Kim chastises. “Christmas is only a month away.”

When I hang up with them, it’s 7pm and I’m feeling antsy. How could I have forgotten that my entire family still thought Daniel and I were together? I’m not sure how to get out of this one. Tired of panicking alone in my head, I pick up my phone and dial Daniel before I can talk myself out of it. It rings and rings, and my anxiety that he won’t answer grows with each tone.

Eventually I hear rustling on the other line.

“Lauren?” Daniel’s voice crackles through the phone.

“Hi.”

“Are you alright?”

“What? Uh— yeah, I just needed to talk to you about something—” I glance at the time on my phone. “Oh god, no. What time is it there? I’m so sorry— I didn’t even stop to think about the time difference, I—”

I hear him suppress a yawn. “Lauren. It must be pretty important if you’re calling me AND rambling like this.”

“No, no, it can wait, I’m sorry— uh, go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Lauren,” he stops me softly and firmly. “Stop apologizing. What’s going on?”

I sit quietly, feeling like an absolute idiot.

“Lauren, come on. You can tell me.”

“I— we… we never broke up?”

He laughs. “Sorry, what?”

“We never broke up.”

“Am I still asleep, is this a dream?”

“My family still thinks we’re together and they asked me if you’re coming home for Christmas.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

“Oh.” is all he says.

“I talked to them for Thanksgiving, and they were asking about you. I realized too late that they thought we were still together— because I never told them we broke up. I didn’t think it through this far.”

“Right, I didn’t either.”

My phone starts ringing, telling me Daniel’s trying to FaceTime me.

I accept, and I’m faced with a dark screen.

“Why are we FaceTiming?”

I hear a lamp click on and suddenly Daniel’s face is illuminated as he lays in bed, lines from his pillow still on his face.

“Figured we should at least be able to see each other if you’re going to break up with me in the middle of the night,” he teases.

I shake my head. “Not funny, this is serious, D.”

“I know, I know.”

“If I break up with you, they’re going to yell at me and tell me I’m a stupid idiot.”

Daniel laughs.

“And if you break up with me they’re going to hate you, which means they’ll hate that we managed to ‘stay friends.’ And if it’s mutual…..” I shake my head, thinking. “They’ll think we were lying.”

“Which we were.”

I sigh, “Which we were.”

“So,” Daniel pulls his blanket up higher. “What are our options here?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I called you.”

I watch him stare off into space and reminisce about when I got to see this sleepy Daniel firsthand in Cape Cod.

“I could come for Christmas…” he trails off and I frown.

“That seems like asking a lot. You’ve already given up a lot of your free time this year for me.”

He shrugs into his pillow. “Do you not want me to come for Christmas?”

I pause. “I mean, that isn’t really the issue here. You have to be tired of being in love with me by now.”

He laughs loudly — a stark contrast to the quiet of his room. “Yes, being in love with you is very exhausting.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’m kidding. Being in love with you is not exhausting. At all.”

I roll my eyes and say nothing. “I don’t think I can bear to break your family’s hearts at Christmas of all times.”

“Man of the year.” I drawl. “What are you supposed to be doing for Christmas? Going home?”

“No, usually I travel somewhere, but I hadn't decided yet.”

I hum in response.

“Kind of leaning towards traveling to Massachusetts now, if I’m honest.”

I look at him incredulously, only to see a playful grin on his face, but I know he’s serious.

“I’m not going to stop you if you really want to come. But I—” I swallow. “Eventually we’re going to need to plan for whatever happens after Christmas.”

He nods. “I know, we will. Let’s just enjoy Christmas together, first.”

I smile. “Okay. We can enjoy it. Together.”

He clears his throat. “I hope I’m not too rusty at this boyfriend performance, it’s been a few months.”

“Daniel Sharman has performance issues… I hope that doesn’t get out to the press.”

His eyes flash. “Bold, for you.”

I shrug. “You walked into that one, baby.”

“Well, you’re lucky you’re cute, darling.”

We look at each other for a moment, and I hope my eyes don’t give away how fond I am for this man who is willing to commit to fake-loving me, and putting up with my family, and who is setting the bar way too high for any actual real relationship I could hope for.

So much for reburying my feelings.

I break eye contact first. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. Sorry again for waking you up.”

“Do Not Disturb doesn’t apply to you, Lauren. Call any time.”

I smile softly. “Sweet dreams, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

—-

I’m standing in the Boston Logan airport waiting for international arrivals; specifically Daniel’s flight from London. According to the board, his flight landed 15 minutes ago, so he should be coming to the lobby any time now. I bounce on my feet, simultaneously eager and nervous to see Daniel for the first time since parting ways after Henry and Claire’s wedding.

Eventually I see the hat and sunglasses I recognize from a selfie he sent me earlier, and I can feel my heart race. I begin walking towards him, and feel my pace quicken as I get closer. Eventually he sees me too and he’s grinning at me with his signature toothy smile that I missed so much.

When we come into contact I don’t know what the appropriate response is, so I simply grin up at him.

“Hi,” I breathe.

“Hi,” he smiles back, and before I know it he’s closer than he was before and he’s ducking down to kiss me.

It surprises me but I respond quickly, leaning up to meet him.

When it’s over he pulls back just enough to nuzzle his nose with mine.

“Missed you,” he says softly.

“Missed you most.” I smile.

He stands up straight, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder, threading his other hand through mine.

I can’t see his eyes, but I assume he must be looking around when he speaks.

“Oh, are you by yourself?”

The question catches me off guard.

“Yeah— well, Ryan’s in the car, circling so he wouldn’t have to pay for parking,” I roll my eyes.

He nods, “Sorry, then—“ he makes an inconclusive gesture. “Suppose I didn’t need to kiss you quite yet.”

My stomach drops and I smile tightly, “That’s okay— better safe than sorry. I get it.”

He tugs on my hand pulling me into a hug.

“I did miss you, though.”

“And I still missed you most.” I tease.

Daniel shakes his head, but doesn’t argue, pulling back from me and reaching for his suitcase with his freehand.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

—-

I bring Daniel upstairs to show him around, and so he can put his suitcase in my room.

“Welcome to my childhood bedroom,” I announce, opening the door and leading Daniel inside.

“Wow, where little Lauren grew up,” Daniel teases looking around. When I first arrived home yesterday, I was quick to tidy up, and hide anything that was too embarrassing, but my room is more or less the exact same as I had left it when I was 18 and moving to college.

I nod. “Yes, many secrets to my backstory can be discovered in here.”

Daniel laughs.

Ryan appears in my doorway leaning against the doorframe.

“Just so you know, Daniel, my bedroom is on the other side of this wall,” he nods to his right. “I can hear everything that happens in here. The walls are thin.”

I frown, blushing, “Ew, Ryan.”

Daniel just laughs and smirks, “Got it, bro.”

I look at him incredulously, “Don’t encourage him.”

The two share a look and shrug, seemingly equally enjoying my discomfort.

“Dinner’s ready!” Auntie Kim calls up to us.

I use that as my cue, brushing past both of them to go downstairs, leaving their laughter behind me.

—-

After Christmas Eve dinner, Katharine stops by and the four of us decide to watch the classic, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I’m the last to arrive in the living room, and when I enter I immediately notice that Ryan is cuddled up with Katharine, and sprawled out over the entire couch, leaving Daniel sitting in the only other seat— the armchair.

I narrow my eyes at them, “Are you guys for real?”

Ryan looks at us and hums innocently, “What?”

“You took the entire couch.”

I see Katharine bite her lip in amusement, as Ryan shrugs.

“I assumed you guys would cuddle anyway. Can you not share the armchair?”

Daniel intervenes, “Of course we can. C’mon Laur.”

He pats his lap. I hesitate briefly before nestling into his lap, tucking my head into his neck.

“Am I crushing you?” I whisper.

“Not at all, you’re keeping me warm.”

I huff a laugh as he puts the blanket over us and Ryan starts the movie. The steady rise and fall of his chest brings me a sense of peace and I have to try not to fall asleep, especially when his fingers gently caress my arm and my leg where he’s holding me to him. I exhale, turning further into his neck and nuzzling into him.

“Tickles,” he breathes, just shy of a whisper.

“You smell good,” I tell him, letting my eyes close.

His chuckle reverberates through his body. “Thanks, darling.”

I feel my eyes shut and sleep take over. I start to come to when I hear the ending song come on, and it drifts into whatever dream I’m having.

“She asleep?” I hear Ryan ask.

“Think so,” Daniel answers.

“You need help waking her up?”

“No, I’ve got it, thanks though. Nice seeing you, Katharine.”

I hear footsteps retreat and feel a series of kisses pressed to my shoulder, as Daniel’s long fingers brush hair away from my face.

“Time to wake up, pretty girl. You can go back to sleep once we’re in your bed.”

I shake my head no, clinging to him tighter.

“Like this bed.” I murmur drowsily.

He laughs softly. “Promise we can cuddle there too.”

“Promise?” I ask, peeking one eye open.

“I promise,” he confirms, pressing one more kiss to my shoulder.

I lift my head to look at him, rubbing my eyes.

“There she is,” he smiles gently at me.

I smile back sleepily, the words coming out before I fully think them through.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.”

I swallow, letting my gaze flicker down to his mouth for just a moment. “I like cuddling with you.”

“You do, huh?”

I nod.

“Well the feeling’s mutual. Let’s go upstairs and brush our teeth so we can cuddle more in your bed.”

“Okay,” I relent, getting off of him. He stands up after me and I instinctively lace my fingers with his, leading us back upstairs. When we’re brushed and changed, we settle ourselves in bed and I claim my spot tucked into his neck again.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, kissing the top of my head. I echo the sentiment and gently kiss the spot on his neck I’m closest to. His arms tighten around me and I’m falling asleep again.

—-

For once, I wake up before Daniel. He looks peaceful as he sleeps on his stomach, his arm across my waist, face half smushed into the pillow. I turn my head to look at the clock to see it’s about 9:30 and know the others will be waking up soon. I turn back to Daniel and card my fingers gently through his hair. Eventually his breathing changes and his eyes flutter open, still clouded with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper, our faces just inches apart.

He pulls himself closer to me, nuzzling into my side and closing his eyes again. “Merry Christmas.”

It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again, voice raspy with sleep. “Is everyone else awake?”

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t heard anyone up and around… they might be soon. Usually we kind of wander downstairs around 10, and it’s just past 9:30.”

He hums in response.

“You can go back to sleep for a little while if you want,” I offer, still running my fingers through his hair. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go downstairs.”

I start to think he’s drifted off to sleep again when he opens his eyes and looks at me. “No, I can get up. I want to give you your present.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I told you not to get me anything; you coming here like this with me— twice— is more than enough.”

He rolls his eyes, detaching himself from me and rolling out of bed. “And look like the asshole who didn’t get his girlfriend anything for Christmas? Not a chance.”

I sit up. “We could’ve lied about it—”

“Lauren,” Daniel looks back at me exasperatedly, leaning over his suitcase. “It’s Christmas. Please just open your present.”

He pulls out a neatly wrapped, thin rectangle and places it in my lap, sitting next to me on the bed.

“Merry Christmas, Laur.”

I carefully unwrap the package to reveal a framed art print, with a circle of stars in the middle; underneath it says “The Night Everything Changed” with the coordinates of what I assume to be Los Angeles. I look up to him with soft eyes, and he gives a one shouldered shrug.

“Saw an ad for this online— where you can get the night sky documented of any night you want, anywhere you want. I thought it would be nice to commemorate this past year, for us…” he trails off, and I hug the frame to my chest.

“Daniel, I love it— Really, really love it. It’s so thoughtful.” I reach out and thread our fingers together. “I’m going to hang this in my room. I want it somewhere I see every day.”

He smiles and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you like it. I actually wanted to talk to you about something— in relation to this. I—”

We’re interrupted by a light knocking on the door, and we both turn.

“Are you guys awake?” Ryan’s voice calls.

“Yeah, we’ll be out in a sec!” I answer.

I turn back to Daniel who squeezes my hand and moves to get up, but I pull him back.

“They can wait; this is special. I want to hear what you have to say.” I smile at him warmly, but he shakes his head, lifting the back of my hand to kiss it.

“It’s alright, I’d rather wait and tell you when we have more time to talk.”

I frown. “Promise me you won’t forget?”

He laughs. “Trust me, I won’t forget.”

He moves to stand, pulling me up with him to go downstairs, but I stop him, wrapping my arms around him tightly.

“Thank you, D. It means a lot to me.”

He returns my embrace, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

When we pull apart, I take his hand again. “Time for Christmas. Your present is under the tree, by the way.”

Daniel laughs. “A present double-standard.”

I shake my head and lead him out of the room.

—-

I think we’re done with presents when Ryan surprises me, coming over to Daniel and I on the loveseat.

“This is for both of you, kind of.” He hands me a thin, narrow gift.

Daniel looks up, surprised. “Thanks, man. That was thoughtful of you.”

He looks at me, silently asking, did you know about this?, and I shake my head no.

I unwrap the package to find a small frame, with a one hundred dollar bill matted in the middle. I look at Ryan and furrow my eyebrows.

“It's the hundred bucks I said I’d give you if you brought a real date to Rachel’s wedding. Seeing as the same guy is here for Christmas I figured you earned it. Thought I’d frame it— but you can take it out and spend it on a date or something, I don’t care.”

Auntie Kim squints. “Sorry, you told her what?”

I roll my eyes and try to avoid the way my stomach sinks at the reminder of how this all started.

I feel Daniel’s hand on my knee. “Clever, Ryan.”

I look over at him to see him flashing his polite interview smile, and I instantly know he knows exactly what I’m feeling.

Auntie Kim stands and stretches. “I don’t get it, but I’m going to go start breakfast. Your sister and Nick are picking up Judith soon and then they’re coming over. Katharine isn’t coming until dinner, right, Ryan?”

As Ryan confirms, she walks out of the room. Ryan turns back to us. “Mind if I shower first?”

I shake my head no, still lost in my thoughts, and I hear Daniel tell him to go ahead.

We’re left alone and I feel Daniel’s thumb brushing my knee.

“Thank you for my presents.”

“You’re welcome— I’m glad you like them; they don’t beat your present for me though.”

He rolls his eyes and we sit for a moment, the framed hundred dollar bill still in my hands.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I look at him and shake my head. “I don’t know. Just an odd reminder of how this started, and that it’s going to have to end soon, I guess.”

Daniel frowns. “We haven’t really gotten to talk about that. Why don’t we table that for later— we still have a nice day ahead of us. Those are problems for tomorrow.”

I nod and smile at him, and he pulls me in to kiss my temple, and I hear the click of an iPhone camera. I look up to see Auntie Kim in the doorway.

“Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that the coffee’s on. It was too cute not to capture.”

Daniel stands up, offering me his hand. “Make sure you send me a copy. I’ll have to add it to my collection.”

I chuckle as I stand. “Let me guess; the album is called ‘Cute and Shit.’”

He grins. “How’d you know?”

—-

Christmas flies by. It’s filled with good food, wine, and everyone I love. It’s hours after dinner, and Auntie Kim has already driven Aunt Judith home before going to bed herself.

Ryan, Katharine, Daniel, and I are all still seated around the dining room table playing some kind of team card game, and everyone’s faces are red from laughter and wine.

I can’t help but watch Daniel, who is in some kind of hilarious argument with Ryan over some card he pulled. His eyes shine from the light of the chandelier, and his smile is big and bright, taking over his whole face.

It hits me in this moment that I’ve surpassed unlabeled romantic feelings; I am truly in love with this man. The realization consumes me until Katharine knocks her shoulder into mine giggling.

“Can you believe we love these idiots?”

“Sometimes it’s a hard pill to swallow,” I tease, giggling, catching Daniel’s eye mid-argument. He winks at me and I feel my already red cheeks flush even deeper.

“You two are so cute,” Katharine continues, watching our interaction. She lowers her voice, whispering to me behind her wine glass. “I was kind of worried that when you got a boyfriend he wouldn’t mesh well with our dynamic, ya know? But it kind of feels like Daniel’s always been here.”

Her words vocalize the thoughts that have been ringing in my head all day. “I know what you mean.”

Katharine dramatically clears her throat. “Are you two done? Is it our turn yet?”

—-

We part ways from Ryan and Katharine in the hallway, giggling and shushing each other in the wee hours of the morning. I shut my door behind me and waggle my eyebrows at Daniel.

“Uh oh, there’s trouble,” he teases. “Planning to seduce me?”

I shrug exaggeratedly and he laughs before looking around. “Fuck, where are my sweatpants?”

I giggle. “They’re literally right behind you on the chair.”

“Oh, thanks.” He grabs them before looking at me. “Can I change in here tonight?”

I flush. “Yeah, sure.”

After sharing a room together all this time, this is the first time we’ve changed in front of each other and the thought makes my skin tingle. I make my way over to my dresser, pulling out my own sleep shorts and t-shirt. I wiggle out of my pants and pull on my shorts, glancing over my shoulder to see Daniel, shirtless, adjusting his sweatpants on his hips. My throat runs dry, and I turn around to pull my own shirt over my head, reaching behind me to unclip my bra once it’s on. I bundle my discarded clothes in my hand, walking over to toss them in the hamper. I turn around to find Daniel already looking at me. He’s still shirtless and my eyes drift to his defined chest. He looks down as if noticing for the first time.

“It’s really, uh, hot in here.” He speaks again. “Would it bother you if I slept shirtless?”

I shake my head, mentally screaming. “No, it is warm,” I agree, reaching up to put my hair in a bun on top of my head.

He watches me intently, and I laugh self consciously. “What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about how this was the best Christmas I’ve had in a while.”

My face lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I see his grin quirk up, and know something else is coming. “I’d say it was almost perfect.”

“Oh?” I question, finishing my bun. “Go on.”

“We fit in a lot of classic traditions today, but we missed one that I’m quite fond of.”

I look at him, trying to think of what it could be, as he takes a step closer to me.

“There wasn’t any mistletoe.”

I swallow. “There wasn’t.” I pause, my mind racing. Before I can fully think it through I find myself offering, “But we could pretend?”

“Hmm?” He murmurs, taking a step closer to me so he’s right in front of me now. I know he’s giving me a chance to take it back, or make a joke; I’m nervous, but I don’t want to take it back. I just really want to kiss him.

“I’d really like it if you had a perfect Christmas.”

“And you?” He questions softly. “What would make it a perfect Christmas for you?”

Instead of answering him, I reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him for a moment, pulling back to look him in the eyes. His eyes meet mine in some unspoken understanding, and then he’s dipping down to kiss me again.

He kisses me softly, delicately, like all the kisses at the wedding. He pulls back briefly to look at me, as if he still expects me to change my mind. I kiss him again, wanting there to be no doubt in his mind, and he kisses me back with purpose and passion, and I’m caught off guard by the weight of it. I gasp, and Daniel uses this opportunity to deepen the kiss, pulling me closer. It reminds me of our very first kiss back on his couch. My arms move around his neck, pulling our bodies flush together.

Daniel pulls away first, but barely, breathing hard, kissing down from my jaw to my neck.

This is definitely new territory for us.

I move my hands to his hair, and he groans at the feeling. I can’t help myself as I sigh breathlessly, a shiver running down my back. He grins against my neck, his teeth scraping at my skin and I moan softly.

“Wait,” I say breathlessly, a thought somehow flitting through my mind. “Earlier, didn’t you say there was something else I should know about my present?”

“I can tell you tomorrow,” he murmurs into my neck between kisses. “It’s time for bed.” He tugs me down onto the bed so I’m underneath him, resuming his kisses on my neck.

“This doesn't seem like going to sleep to me,” I tease.

“It is, shhhh, you’re dreaming.”

“That I’d believe,” I laugh, and Daniel smirks, moving so we're eye to eye again.

“Dream about me often?”

“Shhh.” I pull him closer, turning his words back on him. “You’re dreaming, go back to bed.”

“Happily,” he murmurs, kissing me again.

I bring my hands down to his bare shoulders, feeling his warm, toned skin against my fingertips. I gently drag my nails down his chest to his stomach, and I feel his muscles clench at my touch. I can’t help but smirk to myself as he pulls away to rest his forehead on my shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath. I bring my nails around his back, tracing up his taut muscles and across his shoulder blades.

I feel one of his hands come down, pushing my shirt up, his mouth pressing hot kisses to my abdomen. His nose takes over pushing my shirt up, exploring every new inch revealed with his mouth, his hand now running over my thigh, fingers squeezing occasionally, slowly climbing higher. As his hand reaches the bottom of my shorts, he lightly tugs at the fabric. He pauses, his blue eyes tentatively peering up at me.

“Can I…?” He looks nervous, like I’ll reject him. As if I have ever rejected him, or could ever manage to deny him. I’m not even entirely sure what he’s asking but I find myself nodding quickly. As he goes to tug my shorts down we hear a bang on the wall we share with Ryan followed by a crash, a “Shhhh” and a “Shit.”

We both startle and look over toward the wall, before looking back at each other and laughing softly.

“Ugh, I don’t want to know,” I say, shaking my head.

“You probably, definitely don’t.” He smiles at me before pulling his hand off my shorts, and my shirt back down, letting his fingers trace along the waistband of my shorts before he clears his throat. “We should, uh, get some sleep.”

I blink at the abrupt change in mood before nodding awkwardly. “Okay, sure.”

He rolls off of me, and I reach over to shut the lamp off. I’m hesitant to cuddle up to him, unsure if what just happened changed something between us, but I’m relieved when I feel his arm wrap around me the way it always does. Neither of us say anything, and I try not to think about the last few minutes, the firmness of his body behind mine, or the way my body’s buzzing— closing my eyes to try and get some rest.

—-

The next two days with my family go pretty much the same way as Christmas did. Daniel gets on swimmingly with everyone, and my heart aches every time I realize that once the holidays are over, our charade is going to come to an end—a permanent end— this time. I try to ignore that thought and enjoy my time, basking in the coupley moments in front of my family, and leaning into every touch we share.

I never get a chance to ask about my Christmas present; the time never feels right, and Daniel doesn’t bring it up either. Nothing happens between us like Christmas night; when bedtime rolls around we change in the bathroom and go straight to bed. We cuddle, but there’s no after-dark kisses or wandering hands. I wonder if Daniel feels as self-conscious about that night as I do; if he does, he doesn’t show it.

—-

We’re in my room packing to go back to LA in an effort to try to beat the inevitable New Year’s rush at the airport.

“I need to find something to wrap this in so it doesn’t break in my luggage,” I frown, holding up Daniel’s present. “It’s my new prized possession— nothing can happen to it.”

Daniel looks over and laughs. “Want me to wrap it in my sweatpants? That's what I did on the way here.”

“Okay, thank you.” I pad across the floor and pass him the frame, our fingers brushing in the process.

“Of course.” His lips quirk up as he carefully arranges the frame in his suitcase.

A moment passes, and I wonder if now is a good time to ask about my present .

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask—“

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you—“

We both stop mid-sentence and Daniel laughs, “Sorry what were you saying?”

I shake my head, courage gone. “No— sorry, go ahead.”

He looks at me curiously but continues, “Henry texted me; he and Claire invited us to their New Year’s Eve party. They’re having it in LA this year.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Us? They want me to go?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, Claire apparently requested your presence specifically.”

“Oh, that’s nice of her. I usually stay in for New Year’s.”

“It could be fun— if you aren’t sick of me yet,” Daniel teases.

“Ha!" I laugh, "If you aren’t sick of me yet, more like.” I shake my head. “And don’t mind sharing your friends with me.”

“They’re basically your friends now, too,” he argues.

“I’m not sure one wedding constitutes that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You should come.”

I stop and look at him.

“I’ll call a car and pick you up on the way.”

When I hesitate, he softens his voice. “Please come.”

I swallow, “Okay.”

I’m not a big party person, but I also know I don’t have it in my heart to deny him, especially after everything he’s done for me.

He grins. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

“Cool, I’ll, uh, let them know we’re coming.”

I bite my lip to suppress my smile and start planning my outfit in my head.

—-

When we arrive at Claire and Henry’s house on New Year’s Eve, I try not to gawk at the size. It’s massive and sits high on one of the tallest hills in LA, away from the noise of the city.

The first person to spot us as we walk in is, unfortunately, Eleanor. I’d hoped she was in London, and away from us, but alas.

“Daniel!” she squeals, throwing her arms around him. “I was so hoping you’d be here.”

“Hi, El,” he placates her with a strained smile. “You remember Lauren?” He gestures back to me.

“Laura?” she asks, disinterested.

“Lauren,” I correct, forcing myself to smile. “Nice to see you again.”

“Eleanor,” Daniel intervenes. “Could you point us in the direction of Henry and Claire, perhaps?”

She frowns, but quickly covers it up. “They were in the kitchen last I checked— we have just got to catch up later.”

“We will!” He agrees graciously. “Let us get a drink, and I’m sure we'll have plenty of time to talk later.”

Daniel puts a hand on my back, guiding me forward and into another room, which turns out to be the kitchen. He’s immediately drawn into a series of bro hugs and handshakes by Henry and some of his other friends.

“Lauren! I’m so glad you came!” I turn to find Claire by a table of beverages.

“Claire! So nice to see you, thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming,” she says, pulling me into a quick hug. “I told Daniel he just had to bring you.”

I laugh. “He told me you were quite persistent— I usually have a low key New Year’s at home, but this is a fun change of pace.”

“Can I get you a drink?” She asks, already reaching for a bottle of champagne.

“Sure, thank you.” I catch Daniel’s eye across the room; he’s being clapped on the back and led out of the kitchen. I smile reassuringly, hoping to communicate that I’m fine here. He seems to understand, as he smiles back and nods before turning back to his friends.

Claire giggles, bringing my attention back to her.

“You look at him with such heart eyes, it’s cute.”

I try to keep my face from panicking. “Sorry?” She laughs like my reaction is the funniest thing in the world. “Oh don’t worry, he looks at you just the same, so you’re fine.”

I chuckle nervously. “I think maybe you’ve got the wrong impression—”

She shrugs like we’re talking about something commonplace, like the weather.

“Maybe, it’s possible... but I don’t think so. Now come! There’s some other girls I’d love for you to meet.”

—-

I spend a good portion of the night talking with Claire and her friends. They’re all very kind to me, but eventually I excuse myself to get some air out on the balcony.

I’m looking up at the sky — it’s dark, dotted with faint stars and a distant passing plane — when I hear somebody come out and join me. As they settle next to me against the railing I immediately know who it is just by how comfortable I feel.

“Whatcha doin out here, LaurLaur? The New Year’s only a few minutes away.”

I grin at him. “Just getting some air and admiring the stars. From up here you can actually see them.”

He hums, looking up with me.

“It reminds me of a certain piece of art a certain someone got me for Christmas.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

“It was very thoughtful…. I wonder if any of the stars are in the same places as they were that night.”

“Which night?”

“The night everything changed. Your birthday.”

Daniel leans against the railing facing me, and looks like he’s about to say something before he changes his mind.

Eventually he speaks again. “Things are going to change again soon, right? You said you’re sure about the break up?”

I swallow, scoffing my shoe against the balcony floor.

“I mean, we still need to figure it out, but you can’t keep fake dating me forever. That isn’t fair to you.”

He smiles wistfully. “It’s not like there was anyone else I was trying to date.”

“I’m a lucky girl,” I lament, and Daniel blushes and shakes his head. “It’s a real shame we’re over, though," I jest, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ve never gotten to kiss anyone at midnight.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Never?”

“Nope,” I pop the p and look down at my feet.

“Well.” He clears his throat conspiratorially. “We can agree not to bring our fake relationship into the New Year if you want, but if the kiss starts before midnight, I think we’d get by on a technicality...”

I laugh. “You really want Eleanor to hate me, don’t you?”

He grins cheekily and shakes his head. “Nah, I think I saw her latched onto some other poor bugger inside. We’re in the clear.”

I roll my eyes, looking back up at the sky. I feel his finger trace my arm, gently using my elbow to turn my attention back towards him.

His voice is softer now, “It’s up to you, but there’s no one else I’d rather kiss at midnight.”

I look into his eyes and realize he’s being sincere. My heart’s beating out of my chest. Yes, I want to kiss him, but I want it to mean something. I keep giving in because I know one day this is all going to go away, and I’ll be left with just my memories and heartache.

He must see some hesitance in my eyes, because he’s taking a step back.

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine. Really.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Not trying to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just…” I trail off, looking over the balcony, trying to swallow my feelings, which have manifested as anxious tears in my eyes. I feel a tear escape, and I hastily reach up to wipe it away.

“Hey,” Daniel says gently. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” I let out a watery laugh. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m…”

I feel his steady stare, and I come to terms with the fact that I’ve really gotten myself into a mess that I can’t just smooth over. I’m going to have to tell him.

I take a minute to compose myself, and Daniel stays quiet giving me time to put my words together as I look anywhere but at him.

“I do want to kiss you, D,” I start slowly, trying to keep my voice steady, “but I can’t if it’s just another part of our fake relationship.”

He tugs me closer by hand, gently, so I have no choice but to look at him. I swallow the lump in my throat. “I… know this wasn’t supposed to be real. But it has been, for me.”

He shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “So then stop trying to break up with me.”

I blink at him, and he continues.

“The night everything changed— your star map— I wasn’t referencing the story we told your family about my birthday.” Daniel looks at me long and hard like I’m missing something totally obvious. “It’s actually the stars from a night a month or so later.”

A month or two— Oh. OH.

“The night Ryan FaceTimed me?” I whisper, afraid to be wrong.

He takes my other hand in his, lacing our fingers together. “Listen— Fuck. I’m in love with you, Lauren.” He looks at me so intensely and my head is spinning. “I love you, and I’m in love with you.”

“What?” I ask dumbly.

He licks his lips. “A wise woman once said to me, you don’t confess to ‘kind of like someone’ when you’ve already been friends as long as we have.”

I stare at him for a second, my cheeks burning. “Well your friend sounds pretty smart.” I swallow. “Because I love you, too.”

He laughs, relief flooding his features. He pulls me to his chest, crushing me and squeezing the air out of my lungs. Eventually he pulls back, hands cupping my face.

He grins and shakes his head. “She is smart, so, so smart, but I don’t want to be her friend anymore.”

“What do you mean?” My brows furrow in confusion, worried that somehow I’ve misread this whole interaction, my relief quickly being replaced by panic.

“Well.” He steps forward, keeping our faces incredibly close. “I’m hoping she agrees to be my very real girlfriend— that is, if she doesn’t break up with me first.”

I hear everyone inside start the countdown to midnight. I’m still looking into Daniel’s eyes in disbelief, my hands clinging to the front of his shirt.

When the countdown hits one, I’ve finally found the words I want to say.

“Happy New Year, boyfriend.”

He’s grinning as he kisses me, and I am too. It’s not our most elegant kiss, a mess of teeth and giggles, and whispered “I love you”s. We never stray too far from each other’s lips, kissing again and again like we can’t get enough— and maybe we can’t.

Eventually, we calm down a bit, and when we kiss this time it’s all-consuming, sucking the air out of my lungs. It feels like my love is fizzling to the top of my skin, and I feel it. ‘It’ being every indescribable emotion in our kisses this past year, but this time I know what it is: true, unadulterated, uninhibited love. I am in love with my best friend, who is now my boyfriend, and I don’t care who knows it— as long as he does.

His fingers press bruisingly into my hips before he pulls back just enough to look at me.

“Can we go home?” He whispers sheepishly, brushing some hair out of my face tenderly. “I’m kind of tired of sharing you with the public.”

I huff a laugh. “I know exactly what you mean.” I lean forward to kiss him one last time before pulling back to lace our fingers together, squeezing tightly. “Please— take me home, D.”

I don’t have to tell him twice.

---

tagged: @rogershoe @heyrowena @yunsh-17 @trenko-heart @dylxnshxrmxn

#THE END!!!!#can you believe it?!#daniel sharman fluff #daniel sharman x oc #daniel sharman fanfiction #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman fic #daniel sharman imagine #yellow lights

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my-headcanons-academia · 3 years

Text

Inko chews out Endeavour

Characters: Inko Midoriya, Izuku Midoriya, Shouto Todoroki, Endeavour

Genre: Angst, a little bit of fluff and catharsis

TW: Mentions of child abuse, abusive home life, mental drain

Word Count:3 K

A/N: This may be a teensy bit long :3

•Okay listen

•Midoriya is god damn horrified when he hears what Endeavour did/does to his kids. He had obviously guessed that the second-best hero there is who is training his family to also become heroes would have some extensive regime but what Shouto explained wasn't "training" it was just abuse.

•He immediately offers Shouto and his sibling's a place with him and his mum without a moment's hesitation. They're not as rich as the Todoroki's or live in as big a house with as good food, but they're happy. •And when Shouto declines, Izuku isn't really sure what to do.

• it's not his place to tell any media or higher authorities, it'd drastically change the lives of Shouto and his siblings and would affect all of them the rest of their lives. He feels like he can't do much and a part of him feels like doing nothing means he's condoning the abuse that still happens in that home like the emotional neglect and things Shouto may not have mentioned. But he can't do anything about that right now, simply because Shouto won't let him. And while Izuku is fighting every instinct he has which is to take the Todoroki siblings out of there and into a therapist's office, it's not his place to do that.

•So instead, he does what he can for them, like offer to go places more so they're out of the house. Offer free anonymous therapy sites. Have their own improv therapy whenever needed. Promise to be there for whoever trusts him and for those who it may take longer to trust him.

•But with all his good intentions, he starts to bite off more than he can chew. Even when it's not in the midst of midnight therapy or distracting days out, it's constantly nagging at the back of his mind that he wants to do more and he isn't doing everything he can. He doesn't want to "fail" at being a good friend, since he hasn't had many experiences to base off (or any for that matter) but he is running out of emotional room.

•Contrary to the Todoroki household, Inko Midoriya actually notices when her child is going through some rough times and tries to do her best to help.

•I imagine Inko and Midoriya have a close relationship. With no other reliable parent figure in the house, they spent a lot of time together. Not only are they parent and child, but they are also friends who enjoy each others company. Inko may not always understand his fascination with All Might but she'll always ask questions and prompt him to go on about the differences in All Might's costumes and moves, even if she knows all the answers already in the same way Izuku may not understand why she enjoys sewing so much ever since she made him his hero costume but will not hesitate to help her go shopping for and carry new fabrics as she talks about the colours and texture helping boost peoples confidence. (She wants to get better at sewing so she can make a new costume for him that's better than ever before.) •And because Inko and Izuku were rather close, she knew his tells. she'd learnt well from their daily game nights to know when he lying and when he was hiding things. But that was during games. This was far more strenuous. But before she rushed in and crowded him, Inko thought that if there were really something he didn't want her to know, then she shouldn't know. So long as it doesn't hurt him. So, respecting the fact he is now a teenage boy and not a child anymore, she knew he was smart enough to make his own decisions.

•But also being herself, she still wanted to help, even if she didn't know exactly what was going on.

•At first, she thought Izuku wasn't sleeping enough because of the stress of UA so she'd plan days to the seaside or mini-holiday or they could try to make a new dessert or do a movie marathons to distract him from it. And she always took note of how very time she offered, he'd always insist some way or another that the Todoroki's join them which of course she had no quarrels with, she was delighted he loved spending so much time with his friends!

•When that didn't help she offered to get him a tutor, maybe he was anxious about his studies? She didn't trust her own education enough to tutor him as he was always impressing her with fun trivia and general knowledge but she'd taken a break in her sewing hobby to save up some money to be able to pay for a tutor.

•But when he began not eating as much, mind always preoccupied with something else than his usual hero ideology and theories, the day of the annual parent-teacher meeting and Izuku hadn't uttered a word since he got home, she sat him down on the couch, held his hands, his scarred and trembling hands, and she asked him. "Are you alright?"

•She's asked this many times before, every time he came home from school, every time she found him up in the middle of the night shakily drinking some water while staring at his phone as if expecting some death from the family. But this time? •This time her words echo in Izuku's head, getting louder and louder with each reverberation, picking up speed and other voices with every hit to his mind, the sound of text messages, quiet telephone calls, rushed breathing, stifled words, hearing footsteps from the other line, the need to help all drowning him in a cacophony of utter helplessness. •And he crumples against his mother, clawing onto her shirt like a life-jacket barely keeping him afloat above the ocean of noise only he is in and he cries. The tears stain Inko's cardigan and she wraps her arms around him, pulling him onto her lap like she used to when he was a child, she holds her son, her baby boy, as his tears dampen her clothes and his voice breaks choking on sobs.

•It was a long day.

•Izuku and Shouto had talked before about telling Inko or an adult or just anyone but there was always some reason, some excuse why it couldn't happen yet. It would be a decision all the siblings would have to agree to as it affects all their lives. Fuyumi was always hesitant, so cautious and making sure if anything were to happen nothing could be left to chance and all outcomes had to be planned. Natsuo wanted whatever would help everyone the most, and if no one was ready to do anything right now, then he'd wait. Shouto thought long ago that if what his father did to his family ever came to light, it would be brought up for the rest of his hero career and he'd never be able to truly escape his dad's hold if it always followed him like that. And until he met Midoriya, that's what he thought for years.

•Shouto was warming up to the idea of saying what happened to him specifically to someone. To see what would happen.

•And that is what Izuku could let slip. The things Shouto had told him at the sports festival, the reason for his scar, his spiteful technique and motivation to be a hero. •It was a long day. •The moment all was said and done, that he had run out of tears to cry, that he had ruined his mother's cardigan by stretching it with his grip and made it soggy with his sobs, that he could breathe without a hiccup or tremor interrupting him, he was completely drained. There was a mix of hollowness after spending so long building it all up, unsure every step of the way whether he's doing the right thing or not and the relief of finally letting there be room for him to breathe.

•But in his hollow chest was a stab of guilt, anxiety, crawling back up his throat and blocking his lungs like a thick mucus of worry. Had he done the wrong thing? It wasn't his place to say- He should have talked with Shouto more about this- Was he wrong to have done nothing so far?- Oh god he's done nothing right- this could hurt them-

• "Shhh," Inko gently held the back of his head and rubbed small circles with her thumb into the back of his neck, like she used to to do calm him down as a child, it still worked "It's-..." Inko collected her thoughts. It was certainly a lot to process, she had her suspicions but she thought she was being paranoid. She'll learn to trust her gut more. "It's not alright right now, but one day it will be. For you and for them."

•And that worry in his chest turned to blunt guilt, he shouldn't be the one crying while Shouto and his siblings have withstood literal torture all their lives, he should be stronger, he needs to be stronger to help them-

•"You are children. And none of you should have to deal with this. I know you're growing up faster than I can blink and you're being a hero more and more every day, but that doesn't mean you were prepared for this exact situation. They train you to fight villains and criminals and how to save those in immediate peril who want saving. Not thins like this." Inko continued to speak softly, pulling Izuku closer and soothing the back of his neck "Thank you for telling me and I can understand why you wouldn't want me to meddle as it may be out of my depth, but, two people helping them is better than one."

• Midoriya told Shouto what had happened and apologised for spilling too early, apologised for not doing enough, apologised for being less than open about the emotional and mental space he had to spare, promising to be more aware of it so long as Shouto continues to trust him and talk when needed. Shouto was confused as to why Midoriya was apologising so much as always and despite the apprehension in his movements, Shouto had spent enough time with Inko to trust her. And also to know that while Inko is kind, that isn't all she is.

•Shouto had seen her repay the kindness people had shown her tenfold with gifts, acts of service, compliments, reassurance and more. And something about that deep-rooted kindness tipped him off to the idea that if someone were to take advantage of her kindness or her son, that injustice too shall be repaid. And, as slow as it was and as long as it took, he knew she considers him her son too.

• Overall, the parent-teacher meeting was going well for most students. Most students were in their more casual clothes except those who had been too lazy to change out of their school uniform for the day albeit having their shirts scandalously untucked and top buttons undone (Except for Bakugo who in the presence of his mother for the first time had his tie actually tied, truly it was a sight to behold and blackmail photos to be used for months.)

• Amidst all the parents gathering together while waiting for the respective teachers to be free of their current appointments, there he was. Enji Todoroki, Endeavour in his hero costume supposedly fresh from the job. • And thus, politely fuelled by karmic fury the 5'2 force of nature marched up with a smile to the flaming rotting piece of shit excuse she can barely call a human being and greeted him.

• "Oh, hello Enji." Inko smiles. Izuku stands back with Shouto on the sidelines, watching the encounter unfold. • First of all, the informality caught him off guard. Usually, he'd be used to fans being "Overly-friendly" but something about the smile in her voice didn't sit right with the way fans usually say it. This turned a few heads.

• "And..who are you?"

• "Why I am so glad you asked, my name is Inko Midoriya, the woman whose house your son goes to every day but I suppose you wouldn't know that since as long as he's keeping up his work then there is nothing else to do with him at all," she coughed ", like parenting," and continued "Speaking of being in public I could never be as confident as you are to go to a casual event in a full-on hero costume but I suppose if it helps boost your ego then go for it! Although, speaking from the perspective of a concerned parent, aren't all of those flames a safety hazard! what if you were near a flammable thing like, oh I don't know, civilians clothes in a place you know where said civilians are tightly packed together, or there could be someone well-known to have a flammable quirk nearby or just a building's structure being, on the whole, a rather flammable thing?" Her head turned to the overgrown vermin who lead the school who had entered the room upon hearing there was a commotion "Not that I doubt UA's defence measures and predicted disastrous occurrences as no such thing has ever failed in the past. It's just the safety of children and the future generation of heroes after all." and just as quickly turned back to Endeavour

•"You know I noticed there are plenty of other pro-heroes here who are just fine in their everyday clothing because they recognise this get together is about their children's achievements and not their own. Why, if I didn't know any better I'd say you really are that insecure in your title slipping because that's what being a hero is all about, the title, that you'd distract entire families from the point of being here just to pay attention to you because it's not like being the second supposedly best hero there is credits you any attention."

• Enji barely had time to stop the flames protruding from his hero suit from dying out as peoples heads turned to pay attention. By now every student had pulled out their phone to record the situation.

•Nedzu was on his way over, laughing awkwardly ready to diffuse the situation but had miraculously been needed for a sudden important event in the teacher's lounge and was immediately escorted by Aizawa and Present Mic.

•"Oh and may I go on and say you truly are an inspirational story of how being raised as a gifted child must have been really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your life thinking you’re worth a damn without your quirk so you made it your entire personality until you developed your own actual personality because of course you, the Number Two hero would outgrow such a childish nature. That sounds rough," she pouted in mock sympathy.

• Endeavour snarled behind gritted teeth, barely stopping himself from acting out of hand at the public slander. "Just who do you think you are-"

•"Like I said, my name is Inko Midoriya, the pleasure is all mine I'm sure, or did you not hear me the first time while that fire was covering your ears? just like how it must have covered your eyes with choosing that outfit to be approachable. Oh do excuse me if that seemed rude, I'm a seamstress as a hobby you see so I tend to have an eye for when things are just wrong in every way. Honestly, if you didn't parade your title everywhere you go I'd mistake you for a villain on sight. You see, I'm only a seamstress and not a hero like you as you love to flaunt no matter the situation or need for it, but it must be so rewarding to save all those people every day and return to a home with your loving children and children who want to do the exact same thing and be exactly like you because you must be such good role-model and parent to have accomplished so much in your career and of course spent enough time on each of your children to help them grow to be happy, full of inspiration and their own dreams to fulfil. Oh, and of course your wife who must be so proud of the person you've become!"

• By this point the flames had been sputtering at random, a rare purple and even blue flamer erupting once and again as this woman continued talking and the parents out the corner of his eye who thought they were out of his sight nod their head and faces contort into realising the full weight of the truth they already knew but now understand.

• But Inko was nowhere near close to done, Endeavour could hear as much when she took a small break to smile and take a bigger breath to continue. • And blinded by the public's disapproval of everything he had convinced he had Done for the good of the civilians, he could feel the ground, just like his title, being pulled from under him as quicker heroes hit the back of his knees as Inko swung her handbag with the metal buckle across Endeavours face while she was being pulled safety away from the punch Enji hadn't realised fast enough he had thrown.

• The videos uploaded by students went viral in seconds

•"shocked" by the number two hero's emotional outburst with malicious intent to harm an unarmed civilian, Inko let it be known she found it unsuitable that he go back home to his children and instead of that they live with her and make a record with either police or a licensed therapist to make a note of any other emotional outbursts or strange and potentially dangerous behaviour in complete confidentiality.

#wow #a good parent?#in this economy?#bnha #mha #mha hc #bnha hc #endeavor #inko midoriya #izuku midoriya #tododeku #shouto todoroki #enji todoroki #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #Shouto x therapy #Inko x catharsis #INKO POPPING OFF

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dickspeightjrs · 4 years

Text

It’s Just a Little Crush (au / 2.2k words)

Prompt 7 from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ for @starclaire

ao3 link

“Okay guys, we got a little time to kill before the bell so talk amongst yourselves. But keep it quiet.” Dean warns.

It’s an ordinary Tuesday morning in Dean’s home room class. He’s got a good bunch this year - a few interesting personalities for sure.

“Mr Winchester?”

Ah, speaking of interesting personalities.

“Yes, Krissy?” He looks up from the lesson plan he’d put together for his sophomore class first period. He frowns when he sees the eyes of all twenty-something kids staring back at him. “What’s going on?”

Nothing would surprise him anymore. He may have only been teaching at this particular school for a couple of years but he’d been an auto shop teacher for going on ten. He’d seen everything. And that’s why he knew having his entire home room look at him, like his kids currently were, wasn’t always a good thing.

“What’s the deal with you and Mr Novak?” She smirks.

Mr Novak, Castiel, is head of the history department. He’d started at the school about a year before Dean. He’s a little dorky and doesn’t always get people’s jokes or references but Dean knows the kids love him. He’s had many auto shop classes that begin with students telling him all about the ‘totally awesome’ history lesson they’d just had with Mr Novak.

Dean pretends not to understand the implication in Krissy’s question. “What do you mean?”

But Krissy isn’t letting it go. “It’s just that we’ve all noticed that you get into the same car with Mr Novak every day after school.” She shrugs, feigning innocence as if her words aren’t peppered with sly suggestions. “And we all know it’s your car because you never stop going on about it even though it’s old as hell and no one, except old men, drive cars like that anymore.”

Dean tries not to be offended on behalf of his baby. He wasn’t going to argue with a teenager about the merits of a well-kept classic vintage car. Not again anyway.

“It ain’t any of your business, Krissy, but Mr Novak doesn’t have a car so I drive him home.” Dean explains. “Happy?”

Krissy seems to relent, realising she’s not going to get a rise out of her teacher today.

“Nah,” comes a voice from the back row. “I reckon there’s more to it than that.”

The class shuffles around to reveal Claire Novak smirking back at the teacher. She has a mischievous look in her eyes that Dean doesn’t like. She has the rest of the students intrigued though.

Claire’s sly look only gets bigger as she begins to speak again. “I think they’re secretly dating,” she says, never taking her eyes off Dean, watching for his reaction.

Dean sighs. Where is that damn bell?

“No, Claire, me and Mr Novak are not dating,” he denies. “And you of all people should know that.”

Claire is Castiel’s niece. Her dad is Castiel’s twin brother, Jimmy. Jimmy came to school to pick Claire up once and it weirded everyone out seeing the exact replica of their favourite teacher stood right next to the man himself.

“Okay, fine,” Claire relents, “but you like him, right?”

Dean is saved from answering by the bell finally ringing.

* * *

Dean was foolish to hope that the details of the interrogation he’d received would stay in home room.

By third period, he’d heard students from each of his classes whisper as they were meant to be working. He couldn’t make out everything they were saying but he kept hearing the words ‘crush’ and ‘Mr Novak’ in the same sentence.

Crush? Dean is a grown man. He hasn’t had a crush since he met his first boyfriend when he was sixteen.

He takes a deep breath. It’ll blow over soon.

* * *

It does not blow over.

A week later and everyone is still talking about. Even some of the other teachers have been giving Dean knowing looks every time he’s sat next to Castiel in the teacher’s lounge. Though, Cas seems to remain none the wiser.

By the end of the day, Dean is glad to see his baby. He couldn’t wait to get home and be distracted from the rumours of his feelings for his fellow teacher.

As usual, Castiel joins him for the journey. Luckily, none of their students seem to be around when they get into the car.

Once they leave the school parking lot, Dean breathes a sigh of relief. He can just be himself now, and not worry about what other people are thinking.

The two men sit in silence for a few moments. Dean’s eyes are on the road ahead. Driving always calms him.

“Dean, can I ask you something?”

“Think you just did, Cas,” Dean smirks, not taking his eyes from the road.

“You’re hilarious,” Castiel replies. Dean sees him roll his eyes from the corner of his own. His smirk just gets bigger.

“I’ve been hearing some things around school recently,” Cas says, his voice changing to a more serious tone. “And, I just wanted to ask. Do you have a crush on me?”

It’s silent in the car for a few moments until Dean is the first to crack.

He lets out a loud bark of laughter. “I can’t believe you managed to say that with a straight face.” He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.

The car pulls into the driveway of a modest two-storey house. Dean cuts the engine and turns to Cas.

The other man is quietly laughing too. He looks quite amused with himself. He is honestly such a dork, Dean thinks.

But then his face turns serious again. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you have a crush on me?” He asks again.

Dean thinks for a minute, taking in the man sitting in front of him. “Do I have a crush on my best friend, and husband of thirteen years? Yeah, I guess I do.”

Dean gives Cas a teasing smile and leans across the passenger seat to bring his husband into a smiling kiss.

* * *

Later that evening, Dean and Castiel are laying together in their bed. Only a lamp on the nightstand lights the room, letting out a relaxing glow.

Castiel reaches out to let Dean cuddle up to him. Dean rests his head on Castiel’s chest. He plays with the fingers on Castiel’s left hand. Castiel lets him and goes with the movement when Dean turns his hand over to reveal the small ‘18’ tattooed on the underside of his ring finger.

They’d met on September 18th in their junior year of high school. From that day, Castiel had been Dean’s first and only crush.

Castiel and Jimmy had just transferred from their old school. It was some old-fashioned super religious school but some bad shit had gone down and the school had to close. Dean’s school had been the next best thing according to Castiel's overbearing, church-going, Jesus devotee parents.

Dean and Castiel became inseparable by the time it came for them to graduate. By then, everyone knew they were together but they didn’t care. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end for them.

For obvious reasons, Castiel’s parents were the only ones who had never found out about their relationship. Given what they thought about anyone who wasn’t straight, the boys thought it was safer to keep it from them. They didn’t know what they might try to do to Castiel if they found out.

The day after their graduation, Dean had packed up his car and they ran away. They went to college in another state and never looked back. Castiel had left his parents a note explaining everything and telling them not to try and contact him - though Castiel didn’t think they’d want to after they’d found out he was gay.

Dean’s family knew where they’d gone (they’d always been supportive of their relationship since the beginning). They welcomed Castiel into their family and treated him like their own. They’d visit the boys for the holidays and eventually, once Dean’s brother, Sam, finished high school, they all moved to be closer to their boys.

Castiel had felt guilty for years for leaving his brother but in their second year of college, Jimmy tracked Castiel down and told him he’d left too. (Turns out he’d got his high school girlfriend, Amelia, pregnant and their parents didn’t take kindly to it happening out of wedlock.)

Dean and Castiel got married while they were still in college. Most people would warn them against getting married so young but their family knew they weren’t being naive. They were it for each other.

They had a small ceremony on the anniversary of their first meeting. Sam and Jimmy had been best men and two-year-old Claire was their flower girl. (Despite what her attitude now might make you think, she was an adorable toddler who stole the show with her adorable presence.)

Over the years, they’d kept their marriage on the down low. Castiel was a little paranoid that his parents would somehow find them and try to take him away from Dean and their family. They had a lot of connections and Castiel wouldn’t put it past them to use those connections to find him.

So, when they both became teachers and ended up working at the same high school, Castiel had asked Dean if he could be called Mr Novak so as not to draw attention to them. (Same sex marriage might be legal now but it would still turn heads to have two husbands teaching at the same school, which was the kind of thing Castiel wanted to avoid.) Dean had agreed, he just wanted his husband to feel safe. They still went home together at the end of the day and that’s all that mattered to him.

But it is that exact act which has led them to where they are now.

“Dean,” Castiel speaks into his husband’s hair. “I think it’s time to tell everyone the truth.”

Dean turns to sit up properly and look at Castiel.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to. I know you love and I sure as shit love you,” he reassures Cas. “Plus, it’s only your teacher name that’s still ‘Novak’. Legally, you’re a Winchester,” he smiles.

“I know, but I want to be honest with our coworkers and students too.” Castiel explains. “And maybe I want to show them that you’re not the only one with a crush,” he teases.

“Awesome.” Dean beams. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it anyways. We’ll just start wearing our rings tomorrow and they’ll figure it out.”

Castiel nods in agreement.

Dean could just burst with happiness. He’d finally be able to show Castiel off like he’s always wanted to.

Currently, his wedding ring sat against his chest on a silver chain under his shirt. Castiel keeps his safely tucked away, only taking it out for special family occasions (hence why he got the tattoo - as a more subtle and personal token of his love for Dean). Dean couldn’t wait to feel the weight of the ring on his finger every day. And knowing Castiel would be walking around with his matching one makes Dean smile like a love-sick dork.

Suddenly feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve, Dean settles down into the sheets again, eagerly awaiting sleep to take him so it could hurry up and be morning.

He’s just drifting into sleep when Castiel’s voice whispers against his ear.

“Dean?”

Dean hums, not mustering the energy to turn over and face his husband.

“Not that I’m not happy that it gave me the perspective to stop being scared, but where did the rumours of you having a crush on me come from anyway?”

Trust Cas to think of the semantics just as Dean is trying to sleep.

Dean only has one word.

“Claire.”

Castiel sighs. “I should have known. I’ll talk to her.”

Dean finally turns to look at Cas in the eyes. Green meets blue. “Don’t sweat it, babe,” he smiles. “She’s just teasing like all teenagers do. She would never actually tell anyone anything we’re not comfortable with.”

Castiel shrugs and nods his head in silent agreement.

“I’ll just get her back when we go to your brother’s for dinner on Sunday.” Dean yawns, cheekily.

Castiel rolls his eyes. The joking rivalry between Dean and their niece never seems to end.

Dean smirks and leans over to kiss Castiel. “Goodnight, Mr Winchester.”

“Good night, Dean.”

* * *

The next morning, Dean walks into his home room class and begins the regular formalities of the morning.

Claire walks in late a few minutes later. She says nothing to Dean until she sits down at her desk, puts her feet up on the table, and says in a nonchalant manner, “Nice ring, Mr Winchester.”

The rest of the class look to Dean’s hand. Sure enough there’s a silver band on his left hand that hadn’t been there the day before.

“I just saw a matching one on my uncle’s hand when I handed in my history project. Isn’t that a funny coincidence?” She smirks as the rest of the students’ mouths drop open. Dean’s known Claire long enough to know that it’s a smirk of love though.

The news of his and Castiel’s marriage (and Castiel’s new teacher name) reaches his freshman class by second period. He should have known it wouldn’t take long.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it Mae!

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill!

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover

(once again tagging my faves, let me you if you’d like to be removed from future fics - or added if you’re not already there!)

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years

Text

rosemary’s corner

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 2,788

summary: There’s something up with Bucky.

warnings: Some h*ckin’ words.

a/n: This is dedicated to @johnnynunzio. I love you so, so much and I’m so proud of you.

There was something up with Bucky.

And Sam could call him paranoid all he wanted, but at the end of the day, Steve Rogers knew his best friend—goddamnit—and he knew something was going on.

Bucky had gotten into the habit of disappearing for hours on end—sometimes entire nights—without warning, only to reappear and act as though he had been in the Tower the whole time. And even though he wasn’t big on hanging out with the rest of the team before, it had gotten even worse over the past few months. Hell, when he was with the team, he spent the entire time staring at his phone.

Steve’s brows furrowed as he stepped out of the elevator. He’d spent the past four hours down in the gym, desperately trying to figure out what the hell was going on with his best friend.

But if he couldn’t figure it out, maybe FRIDAY could.

“Hey, Fri?” He called out as he shut his bedroom door.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

The heat of the water turns his skin pink as he scrubs at his hair. “Do you know where Bucky’s been going?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers.”

When the A.I. doesn’t continue, he frowns up at the ceiling as though she was up there. “... Can you tell me where he is?”

The A.I. sounded almost sorry as she said, “I’m sorry, Captain Rogers, but Sergeant Barnes asked me to not tell anyone his whereabouts.”

“Even me?”

“Yes, even you.”

And okay, yeah, that kind of really fucking hurts. It hurts that Bucky is keeping something from him because in their hundred years or so of being alive, they’d never kept secrets from each other. Shit, Bucky had even told Steve when he first got his hands up a dame’s skirt way back in ‘34.

They told each other everything.

“Alright,” the blond said as he shut off the water. “Guess it’s time for Plan C.”

Plan C, as it turns out, requires a little more time. It means waiting until Bucky gets back to the Tower and then waiting for him to leave again.

But apparently that’s even harder than he thought it would be since trying to catch the former Winter Soldier leaving is like trying to catch a ghost.

It took him almost two weeks to finally catch him. It was a little after nine, and the rest of the team had retreated to their respective bedrooms for the night.

Steve, however, spent almost half an hour by his door, ear pressed to the wood and listening for the tell tale sound of Bucky’s door opening from across the hall.

When he finally heard the creak at precisely 9:42 PM, he makes sure to wait a few minutes before following him out. He took the stairs, bolting down each flight. He had to wait several long minutes for the elevator to catch up, watching as Bucky zipped up his jacket before heading out into the cool autumn air.

Not for the first time, he cursed his best friend’s ability to sneak through the streets of New York almost undetected. Plan A had been Bucky just telling his best friend where he was going as he should’ve done as his goddamn best friend, and if that had happened like Steve had hoped, he wouldn’t be traversing down tenth, after having to follow him through several subway rides.

He’s even more confused when he started to spot the NYU signs littering the area.

He stopped in his tracks as Bucky stepped into a familiar looking store, a string of lights glittering brightly in the window display despite the late hour.

He vaguely remembered walking past the shop with him a few weeks before, but when he’d told Bucky that they should stop in sometime, he’d immediately clammed up and shrugged, claiming that it was probably too hipstery for either of their tastes.

Which, to be fair, it was really close to the New York University campus.

Steve got a little closer, just enough to peek in through the window that had ‘Rosemary’s Corner’ emblazoned across it.

The store was the perfect picture of cozy, though it did have that hipster feel that both him and Bucky tried to avoid. Shelves full of records lined the front end of the shop, lights hung up along the tops of each one. He could just barely see what seemed to be a coffee station towards the back, a menu with titles such as ‘Pumpkin Spice Marshmallow Latte’ and ‘Blueberry Delight Cappuccino’ hung up on the wall behind it. A vintage record player in the corner was crooning out the familiar voice of Billie Holiday, just barely audible outside the shop.

And there in the back, amidst the waist high shelves, was his best friend. Steve’s eyes widened as he watched him grab a record from a cart next to him, handing it to a girl who seemed to be the only employee present. There was a flush in his cheeks, a shy smile tugging at his lips, that the blond hadn’t seen since the forties.

The girl seemed to be just as enamoured as him as she placed the record amongst the stacks. Her movements were slow, unhurried, as she took each record that Bucky offered her. She seemed so content to just be in his presence.

Bucky’s mouth moved silently and he lit up like a Christmas tree as he watched the girl erupt into giggles. Her teeth caught her lower lip as she moved to shelve yet another record, but she froze as the man’s flesh hand reached up to gently tug it, releasing it. The two of them were stuck in place, too lost in each other to think about the task at hand.

And despite the fact that anyone could walk past at any moment and see them through the window, Steve felt like he was intruding on something… private. The intimacy between the two so apparent that it sent a blush to his cheeks to have seen it. Just before he turned to leave, he saw Bucky rub the back of his neck in embarrassment, the both of them attempting to pretend that they didn’t just have a moment.

He went back the next day, when he knew that Bucky would be stuck at the Tower for at least a few more hours. He wanted to be able to talk to her in private, to maybe ask her intentions.

And yeah, it was really shady for him to go behind Bucky’s back, but he wasn’t about to just let some girl walk in and fuck with his emotions if she didn’t intend on staying.

So he made the trek up to tenth once again, though it went a lot faster now that he knew where he was going and he didn’t have to hide.

Rosemary’s Corner looked almost the exact same during daylight, though Steve wasn’t sure why he was expecting any different. The only difference is that there’s a few more patrons than just Bucky during the day all spread out through the shop.

The girl’s sitting at the cash register towards the back, flipping through a book. She looked up as the bells above the door chimed with his entrance, an easy smile gracing her features. His eyes are drawn to her shirt, recognizing it as the flannel that Bucky had been wearing the night before over his t-shirt. The sleeves were rolled in order to accommodate her—she wasn’t exactly the size of the super soldier—but she looked so cozy it was hard to imagine her ever wishing him harm. “Hi! Welcome to Rosemary’s!”

He tried to pretend as though he’s not there to interrogate her, perusing through the stacks in what he hopes is a casual and aimless manner.

“Hi.”

Steve jumped, whirling around to stare at the girl. “Hey.” The super soldier was more than a little surprised that she was able to sneak up at him—he had espionage training from Natasha fucking Romanoff. But even so, she’d somehow managed to approach him without making the slightest noise.

“You’re James’s friend, Steve,” she said, holding out her hand for him to shake as she gave him her name.

He eyed her hand warily. “How do you know me?”

Her eyebrows rose as she stared at him, reminding him a little too much of how a certain redhead would look at him when he was being particularly stupid. “It takes more than a baseball hat to fool me, Captain.”

Swallowing, he crossed his arms over his chest, going into full Captain mode. “Then I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

But she simply breezed past him, heading for a cart at the end of the aisle with a sign on it that read Don’t want it? Leave it here! Thanks!

He stood there in his spot for what seemed like ages, staring after her. Did she really just disregard him? He was Captain fucking America. No one had disregarded him like that since he was in the USO shows.

“You know, I used to come here everyday when I was a student,” she said, pushing up the sleeves of the flannel to her elbows, before nudging the cart towards the first row of stacks. “Back then, it was owned by Albert Cook. He opened it for his wife back in ‘97 because his wife, Rosemary, missed records. Everyone was using CDs at that point, and it just wasn’t the same. They added the coffee shop in ‘02.”

Steve followed her like a puppy as she reshelved the records. He wasn’t sure where she was going with all of this, but she’d made it clear that she wasn’t going to put up with him pushing her around.

“They hired me here my freshman year, but I was here even when I wasn’t working. It’s my favorite place in the entire world, and Albert and Rosemary became my home away from home. It’s not easy moving so far from home for college, but they helped me. A lot. Two years after I graduated, it became mine.” She paused, staring at the Cher record in her hand. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears and Steve could feel the sorrow rolling off of her in waves. “Albert passed and in his will… I told Rosemary that I wasn’t going to take the shop from her, that she could have it, but she insisted I take it. Apparently her and Albert had decided to put me in his will ages before he died…” Her eyes crinkled up as she laughed, “I thought their kids were going to shit themselves. They were so mad.” She shrugged as she finally put the Cher record in its place. “Rosemary didn’t really understand why they were so mad about me getting the shop when they never came in. But she moved upstate with her kids and I moved into the apartment upstairs. I still see her every week for lunch.”

“Excuse my interruption,” Steve said when he finally sensed a pause. “But why are you telling me all of this?”

She finally turned to him then, looking so open and honest that it took him aback. “You’re here to question me about James, and I get that. He’s been through a lot.”

“He’s told you?” He asked, blue eyes wide. “About all the… HYDRA stuff?” At her nod, he narrowed his eyes at her. “But he never tells anyone about—”

“Well, he tells me,” she snapped, her hands going to her hips. “I know about all the things he’s done and I don’t care. He’s the best man I’ve ever met.” The girl closed her eyes as she paused, taking in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, the storm in her eyes had settled. “I need you to know that I love James. I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt him. And while I can appreciate that he has a best friend like you—”

“You don’t like your loyalty being questioned,” Steve finished, much quieter. He felt as though he’d been put in his place, which didn’t happen often. “I… I don’t either. Not when it comes to Bucky.”

A sarcastic smile settled on her lips. “We have that in common, Captain.”

The two of them went quiet as she went back to her task, occasionally having to go to the front to ring up a customer or make a cup of coffee. At some point, Steve started helping her, handing her the records just as Bucky had been doing the night before. Customers came and went, but as it got later, it got less and less populated.

“I changed the hours a few months after I got the shop,” she mused as she glanced over at the few college kids studying at one of the tables. One of them had put on a Hozier album, the earthy songs sounding like they belonged on a record. “It’s better for college students. Gives them a place to study or just hang out late at night, and they can choose any album from the used record wall to play for free.” Her nose scrunched as she smiled. “And I’m not much of a morning person, so it gives me a reason to sleep in until noon.”

“Does he know you love him?” Steve asked suddenly, cheeks going a particular shade of pink. “Bucky, I mean.”

“Yeah, I got that,” she said, nudging him. But she was just as flushed as him. “I hope so. I haven’t exactly been subtle. But I might have to make a move soon if he doesn’t.”

He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You should. Make a move, that is.”

“He can be rather shy, can’t he?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Both of them looked up, startled, to see the man of the hour standing there in the doorway. Neither of them had heard the bells above the door as he entered.

“James,” she breathed, a fond smile painting her lips as she saw him. “You’re early tonight.”

His ocean eyes softened just a tad as they flickered over to her, but hardened juts as quickly when he turned his attention back to the other man. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you last night,” he said, apology clear in his eyes.

“Why?”

Steve flinched at the harshness of his tone, but knowing that he more than deserved it. “I was worried, Buck. You weren’t telling me where you were going, and you disappeared for so long and I was just… I was worried.”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Bucky said as he moved to stand in between his girl and his best friend. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know that.”

“Then why—”

“James,” she said, cutting him off, “He’s here because he cares. We both do.” The man searched her eyes, his metal hand gently resting on her elbow. “I’m okay. Captain America can’t scare me.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, once again feeling like an intruder. He’d never seen his best friend so taken with a girl, so... enraptured. “Don’t worry. Your girl put me in my place faster than I could blink.”

The brunet flushed, shaking his head. “She’s not—”

“I think I should go,” he said, backing towards the door. “I’ll leave you two alone. But, Buck—” He nodded towards the girl, who had slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Don’t be afraid to bring her around the Tower. I’m sure everyone would love her.”

Bucky nodded once, his arm moving to wrap around the girl’s waist and bring her into his chest. “I will.”

As Steve stepped out into the night air, he was shocked by how late it had gotten, by just how long he’d spent in the shop. A breeze promising an early winter ruffled his hair and sent a chill through him. As he wrapped his jacket tighter around him, he took one last look at the two through the window.

The girl was pressed up against him, eyes sparkling as she stared up at Bucky. He could clearly read the words ‘I love you’ on her lips and the shock on his best friend’s face. Without a second thought, she pressed her lips to his, her fingers tangling in his hair. It took a few seconds for his brain to start working again, but when it did, his arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling her in for another kiss just as she started to pull away.

Steve headed for the subway, a smirk on his lips. “You’re in good hands, jerk.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic

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n0-eyedtaissa · 3 years

Text

Christmas Kids — Ruthie Soh-Peterson x Romeo Fogarty (Serpent Siblings!AU)

A/N: Just a little late Christmas/holiday themed moment about Ruthie and Romeo for @hughstheforcelou! Featuring secret Santas and not-so-secret feelings when Ruthie and Romeo take a break from the family Christmas party.

Word Count: 3,707

Holiday season at the Fogarty household was always a big deal. The Abuelas decorated every available surface with knickknack Santa’s and intricate Christmas village sets that included moving pieces and miniature light fixtures that actually worked. Decorating was a weekend-long event that took all hands on deck. Maria and Atzi sat, watching and instructing as Dante and Fangs brought the big boxes down from the rafters so they could pick through which decorations were deemed worthy of the occasion. Dante was getting frustrated with how indecisive Maria was being, like how she would tell him to put a big box away just to have him cart it back down a few minutes later. When Fangs got on the roof to string the icicle lights, Dante grabbed the ladder and ran off with it so Fangs was stuck up there in the cold until Atzi threatened to whack Dante with her cane if he didn’t get his brother down from there this instant. But because the Abuela’s had scheduled extra time on their decorating agenda (space to either be filled by snacking or arguing), they had predicted that something like this would happen so they found a way to work around the two brawling boys, chastising them and letting them know there was still more work to be done. Maria decided it was smart to let Dante get some of his anger out, so she tells him to set up the nativity scene in the front yard and hands him a mallet. Dante laughs as he goes to town staking the hollow plastic pieces into the dry yellowed grass. When he’s done, he pulls out a cigarette and stops to admire his handiwork, basking in the warm glow of the lights. He exhales sharply, unable to distinguish his cigarette smoke from the warm fog of his breath against the cold air.

Christmas on the Southside of Riverdale was never something that felt unnaturally hopeful: you were born knowing that Santa was too good to be true, and that it was always better to get new socks as a present because they’ll be useful long after any toy. Christmas morning was meager at best, but always appreciated regardless. It was humble, and on the Southside you learn early that there was nothing wrong with being humble. Ruthie had this theory that people like the Abuelas would dress up fancy and decorate their houses with bright colorful items as an attempt to brighten up their way of life, to make even the most mundane things feel exciting, even if they weren’t. Like if they could distract someone with bright lights and sparkly tinsel, everything in the outside world wouldn’t feel so shitty by comparison. It still seemed to be working on Sweet Pea and Fangs, but Ruthie had outgrown the sugar-rich feeling of artificial Christmas cheer. Things felt forced this year, though no one could put a finger on why. It felt like the first breath of fresh air that anyone had in a while, but it would prove to be the last breath of fresh air they’d be able to take for the time coming.

When she thinks no one is looking, Ruthie slinks out of the living room and into the Fogarty’s garage in order to sneak out the side door. She makes her way outside unscathed, it was the part of the evening in which everyone was either too full, too buzzed, or too hopped up on sugar. Dante was leaning back in the reclining chair, one hand resting on his stomach from eating one tamale too many. Sweet Pea and Fangs were laying under the Christmas tree playing with the new Lego set Fangs got, looking over their shoulders and snickering as they listened to the Abuelas as they belted along to old Christmas records. It was the perfect diversion tactic. Ruthie shivers as the late December wind picks up, but she’s had enough peppermint Schnapps where she can try her best to pretend that the cold doesn’t bother her as much as it does. She pulls her pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of the dress Atzi made her, but before she can light it a voice pops up from over her shoulder.

“Trying to get away from us already, Shorty?” Ruthie looks up and finds none other than Romeo Fogarty standing in the doorway. He smiles and steps out into the cold, rubbing his hands together.

Ruthie fumbles to light her cigarette and she hopes that Romeo doesn’t notice.

“I just needed a breather, I guess”

Romeo nods, “I feel that.” The two of them stand next to each other quietly in the side yard, the sound of laughter trickling from the windows as everyone inside got their second wind of energy. Neither one of them talk for a little, and neither one of them have a problem with it. It’s always Romeo that breaks the silence, though.

“So do you know who had you for Secret Santa?” The wind picks up and blows loose leaves over the concrete and stirs Ruthie’s hair around her shoulders. Romeo looks over at her and her bare arms starts shrugging off his cardigan before she could say no. Ruthie tries to scowl at him but she knows it’s no use.

“Of course I do,” She laughs “I know who everyone has….And I think I know what everyone got, too” She raises a conspiratorial eyebrow at Romeo as she flicks away her cigarette ash.

“Well, now you’re speakin’ my language!” Romeo laughs, giving Ruthie a nudge in hopes that she’ll divulge some details.

“I’m not telling you shit” She nudges him back and tosses her cigarette on the ground.

“That means you have me, huh Shorty? Am I gonna like my present?” He teases. She shakes her head at him.

Ruthie can’t help but laugh, knowing that Dante had been pestering her about the same thing as well, earlier that evening. Once Maria and Atzi finally declared the Christmas party was over, Ruthie, Romeo, Dante, CD, and Spyder were all planning on heading over to the Soh-Peterson household for their own kind of after party. When the topic of doing a Secret Santa gift exchange came up, Ruthie really didn’t think anyone would follow through with the idea but they did. Earlier that month they had drawn little slips of paper out of one of CD’s old hats, each one with a name on it. She coordinated all of it. She was Spyder’s secret Santa, he was Dante’s, Dante was Romeo’s secret Santa, CD was Ruthie’s, and Romeo was CD’s. And ever since then, Ruthie had been getting pestered with questions by her friends: Do you think he’s gonna like this? What should I get him? What do you even like? For a group of friends that had known each other for years, they were all rather unobservant.

“My lips are sealed for another handful of hours”

Romeo sighs with fake defeat and pulls a joint from behind his ear, where he always put it for safe keeping. He lights it and inhales, the smoke engulfing the shoddily rolled paper. Ruthie watches the smoke seep from the gap between Romeo’s lips, how he blew out small little smoke rings that got carried away on the cold breeze. She puts out her hand out to take the joint but Romeo smiles and leans away. “You’re not gonna get any of this until you tell me some shit”

Ruthie laughs loudly at his persistence and weighs her options. She knows that she’d have no problem divulging any secrets to Romeo, but she also knows that Dante and the rest of her friends took this Secret Santa business very seriously and would be upset that she let Romeo get a leg up in the game. So she does what she’s learn to do best and compromises the best way she can.

“I’m not your Secret Santa, I’m Spyder’s” Ruthie lets it slip and only feels a little bit bad about doing it. “He finally got the speakers in his car fixed so I made him a mix CD for the first time we all go out driving again.” She looks up at Romeo and sees an emotion on his face that looks a little bit like jealousy.

“Well, I’m sure he’s gonna like that, Shorty” Romeo nods curtly and hands the joint over to Ruthie.

Something about his words feel too harsh, heavy with the weight of something not understood fully enough to be well communicated. Ruthie wraps her sweater — Romeo’s sweater— tighter around herself and crosses her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling a lot smaller, like she had done something wrong. She wonders of she’s just already paranoid from the weed, tells herself that she’s being silly and reading into things and nothing was wrong at all. She inhales a big lungful of smoke and tries to act like she doesn’t have to cough when she hands it back to Romeo.

“Yeah he’ll probably like his present, but I’m not too sure you’ll like yours…” Ruthie smirks over at Romeo, trying to probe past the tension that might have been present. She leans closer towards him, opens herself up to him more. Romeo seems to pick up on the shift and smiles down at her.

“What’re my odds?” He winces in preparation.

“About 50-50, I’d say” Ruthie blows a cloud of smoke upwards “You know Dante’s really hit or miss with gifts” She bites at her lip as she divulges that little piece of information, hoping that it might make up for earlier. Romeo laughs and starts nodding in agreement.

There’s some sort of a commotion from inside that brings them back to reality, popping the little bubble of privacy they were able to have for a brief moment. Dante’s voice pipes up loudly and Ruthie guessed that meant Spyder and CD had finally arrived, or that he had finally slept off his food coma. The door that leads from the house into the garage opens and Dante ducks out, grabbing a six-pack of beers from the outside refrigerator before heading outside. “Nah man, I dunno where either one of them ran off to” Dante says, unaware of the fact that Ruthie and Romeo were only a few feet away, just outside of the side door and unseen in the shadows. When the coast is clear the pair break out laughing at their friend’s obliviousness. Now they had a secret just the two of them could keep.

“Guess we should be getting back inside, huh?” Ruthie scuffs the toe of one of her hightop against the handprints that were pressed into the cement ground, not really wanting to meet Romeo’s eye. She feels a little bit deflated, like this was a moment that was hers for the taking yet she didn’t know what to do with it.

Romeo takes a short pull from what’s left of the joint and hands it over to Ruthie one last time. “Nah, I’ll go inside and start corralling those idiots so we can do presents. You kill that joint and then come and join us, you probably need that shit more than I do, any ways.”

“You’re probably right…” She smirks.

“I’m gonna head inside now” Romeo adds, somewhat awkwardly. “You just finish taking your breather, Shorty, don’t even worry about those guys.”

“Why thank you, Romeo” Ruthie rolls her eyes but she smiles afterward, laughs at this unnamed thing they were both experiencing.

“You ain’t gotta thank me” Romeo adds, turning on his heels and starting to walk back through the garage before stopping abruptly. “You look nice tonight by the way…pretty” He tacks the word onto the end of his sentence like it’s a nervous afterthought. He looks at Ruthie in her hand-sewn party dress (made from the green velvet that Atzi got from the fabric store for a great bargain), his own sweater dwarfing her skinny frame, sees the hole in her tights her uneven socks, and her beat-up hightop sneakers. And he thinks, ‘Wow…’ He had meant what he said. He thought Ruthie was one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. Hell, he hadn’t seen all that many girls but right then and there he knew that she would top every one of them.

She looks over at Romeo, half flattered and half confused, like she was waiting for a punch line that made her the butt of the joke. “Thank you” She says. “You know, in the entire year or so that I’ve known you, I don’t think you’ve ever called me pretty.” She tries to laugh off her discomfort but Romeo picks up on it easily.

“I mean it” He rebukes, wanting her to realize that he meant what he said because it was true. “But I guess for you to know that, I gotta tell you more often, huh Shorty?” His playful confidence is back again. Same Romeo, charming as ever, but now Ruthie knew that he liked her, and she thought that maybe she could like him to, or that maybe she had liked him this whole time and now she just had a better word to describe what she was feeling.

“Guess so” She smiles through a cloud of smoke, meeting Romeo’s eye one last time before he retreated inside to start gathering up everyone for their secret Santa gift exchange and getting their after-party started. Ruthie lingers for another few moments in the dark, stomping out the joint on the concrete and putting the roach in her pocket. She pushes her thick hair out of her face and sighs, butterflies bounding in her stomach every time she heard the echo of Romeo’s words in her ears, I mean it. She feels her cheeks get hot and goes to rush inside knowing that by now there was no way that her friends didn’t realize she’d been unaccounted for. She waits to sneak back inside until she hears an uproar of CD’s loud laughter, hoping that her return would go unnoticed if the boys were already distracted.

“Where ya been, Ruthless!” CD’s already drunk when he runs up to hug her, his frame feeling heavy and unsteady. “Dante told me you Houdini’d and he’d been looking everywhere for you”

Ruthie rolls her eyes and can’t help but laugh. “He would’ve had a lot easier of a time finding me if he bothered to get his lazy ass up out of Maria’s chair!” Last time she saw Dante, he was taking a nap with his belt undone and his dress pants unbuttoned.

Dante flips her the bird but still hands her a beer, and soon everyone is getting ready to head back over to Ruthie’s for the gift exchange. The Abuela’s make sure that the kids leave with a Tupperware dish full of tamales and the first thing Spyder does once Ruthie unlocks the front door is head over to the microwave (like he usually does). Romeo pours up a round of shots for everyone and Ruthie drinks both hers and CD’s too. He stares at her with wide eyes when she drinks both down without even flinching and Ruthie laughs, giving him a wink that wasn’t at ass as smooth as she hoped it was. The five of them drink more and a heated debate breaks out between CD and Spyder about whether or not it’s sacrilegious to roll a cross-joint on Christmas. They all argue while trying to find a Christmas movie that they could all actually agree on (Home Alone 2, of course), but they spend too much time talking about their respective awkward interactions with distant family to even really pay all that much attention to it in the first place. Dante starts getting impatient (because he always was impatient) and decided that gifts needed to be doled out at that very moment. He hops up from the couch quickly

Ruthie handed Spyder a jewel case with a mix cd covered in sharpie doodles. She hand drew the cover art and wrote all the names of the tracks in her nicest handwriting. “Cause you got your speakers back, I figured you needed some good music.” Spyder puts his hand on her shoulder and gives a tender squeeze, the closest thing one might get to a hug from him.

Spyder hands Dante a cross-joint and a lighter in a ziplock bag. Turns out he was rolling up Dante’s present that whole time. “It’s the gift that keeps on giving, you know?”

CD gets a big mason jar filled with his favorite sour candy from the bodega. He gets so emotional that Romeo remembered all of his favorites that he just about sheds a tear. He watches the candy jar like a hawk for the rest of the evening, a protective hand sitting on the lid at all times.

CD tries to juggle three packs of fancy cigarettes that he knew Ruthie liked to buy from Ignacio’s, ends up tossing them to her one by one. “Nearly risked my life to get this shit” He laughs, launching into an animated story about his attempts and Ruthie tucks her feet up under herself, getting comfortable and unwrapping the plastic from around one of the packets.

Last but never least was Romeo. Now Dante wasn’t always the most sentimental, he’d always say that he was shitty at gift-giving, but Romeo was his cousin and he was having a rough time so Dante wanted to do something nice for him. “If you don’t like it, blame Ruthie cause she was the one who helped me pick it out.” He laughs somewhat awkwardly as he handed Romeo his gift. Tearing away at the newspaper, Romeo reveals the small red leather-bound journal and runs his fingers over the spine. “Thank you” Romeo replies, and Ruthie knows it’s aimed at her more than it is Dante.

Christmas on the Southside was humble, but more often then not the small gifts shared among family and close friends were what always meant the most. A small recognition, a nod towards the gratifying ordeal of being understood by those worthy enough to be close to you. The five of them — Ruthie, Dante, Spyder, CD, and Romeo, knew more about the others than most of the outside world would ever. They knew each others strengths, weaknesses, knew each other well enough to see something and say hey, this made me think of you. They all liked their small gifts more than they would let on. CD shares his candy with his friends, but makes sure that he had enough saved for later. Dante never had a problem sharing his weed, he was sitting back in the big comfy chair and laughing at the end of Home Alone. Ruthie would always share her cigarettes, and never minded all that much when CD launched into one of his many animated stories about the situations only he could find himself in. Spyder knew that next time they went out driving, they had a soundtrack to yell and scream with the windows down, and Romeo could write all about it in his journal, cataloguing the best and the worst and understanding that growing up was hard and the world was cruel, but it was always sweeter when you had good friends by your side.

They let the movie credits roll and they pass around what was left of Dante’s Christmas present. Ruthie doles out glasses of water and painkillers in preparation for the morning. She takes CD’s sticky sugar-covered hand out of his half-empty candy jar and puts a blanket over Dante as he snored. Thinking that everyone was probably asleep by now, Ruthie hikes herself up onto the kitchen counter and opens the window, pulling the white ceramic ashtray from its spot inside of the cabinet. She lights one of her fancy new cigarettes and resists the urge to pull at the too-high collar of the dress that Atzi made her. She blows a thin stream of smoke towards the window and takes a big sip off the discarded bottle of cheap tequila that Spyder brought from home. There’s a creak from the other end of the house and Ruthie snaps her head to attention.

“Can’t sleep?” Romeo asks, rubbing his glassy eyes as he filled a chipped mug full of tap water from the sink. He pushes himself onto the counter next to Ruthie and scoots close to her so that their knees are touching. He takes a big sip of water and offers her some.

“Haven’t got around to trying” She takes the water from his hands and finishes it.

“I feel that” He echoes his words from earlier that evening and suddenly it’s like they’re back outside at the Fogarty’s house again, hiding and smoking in the side yard and trying to navigate their feelings in a way that didn’t seem so scary. Ruthie leans her head down slowly until it comes to rest on Romeo’s shoulder and both of them try hard to pretend like they’re not completely breathless. His skinny fingers play with the ends of her hair and she hums contentedly.

“So did you like your present?” Ruthie asked, her voice tickling Romeo’s ear.

“I loved it” He replies with the same forceful certainty as before. I mean it. I loved it. Like he always wanted to make sure that Ruthie knew that he was serious and to be believed.

“Merry Christmas, Romeo” She whispers into the dark expanse of the kitchen. She can smell his cheap aftershave, can feel the vein in his neck pounding nervously after this bout of newfound contact.

“Merry Christmas, Shorty” He mumbles into her hair, smelling the floral perfume of her shampoo. The two of them sit like that for a few quiet minutes, with Ruthie’s head on Romeo’s shoulder. His hand rests on one of her knees, his thumb tracing around one of the rips in her tights. Ruthie laces her fingers with Romeo’s and slides off of the kitchen counter, leading him down the hallways and towards her bedroom.

#serpent siblings au #oc: ruthie soh peterson #lou's ocs #lou's oc: romeo fogarty #ruthie x romeo #little brother! sweet pea #little brother!fang fogarty #southside serpents au #southside serpents #riverdale oc

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

all for a 56-pack of crayons

Prompt which has obviously been a little modified because of who I am as a person: “I was bartending at an Italian restaurant and it’s pretty much full of valentine dates. A guy walks in and sits at the bar by himself. He had come to the city to surprise his girlfriend for valentine’s day (about a five-hour bus trip between cities) and he sure surprised her. she was in her dorm room fucking one of his friends from high school”

so @shireness-says sent me the above prompt a dreadfully long time ago, and I was going to write it for her birthday. I missed that date by a few weeks, but who doesn’t love a late birthday gift? Keeping the party going! 🎉

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“This,” Emma says, motioning out to all of the people in front of her. “People can go on dates every day of the year, but everyone in all of Portland is here tonight.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Mary Margaret sighs, a goofy little smile on her face that’s always there when she’s talking or thinking about love. It’d be obnoxious if she wasn’t so damn charming. Or nice. Charming is really more of David’s thing. “People like to go on dates on Valentine’s Day.”

“Because it’s a – ”

“Societal construct. Yes, I know. You’ve said that once or twice.”

Emma rolls her eyes and grabs the bottle of wine she was looking for. “Look, all I’m saying is that if you think proposing to your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day is romantic, you’ve got issues. There are a lot of days of the year, make another one of them special.”

“Emma.”

“I’ve got to go serve table ten. He’s got a ring being put in a dessert. Be right back.”

Mary Margaret isn’t behind the bar when Emma gets back. She’s probably off trying to help some teenagers flirt or listening to some couple’s love story. She’s very into romance and candy hearts and the whole big thing. It’s like this every year, but Emma can’t blame her, not really. Mary Margaret has been with David since they were fifteen years old, and her entire life is some kind of candy heart and giant teddy bear holding red roses world. There are obviously a few pieces of melted chocolate and fallen rose petals in there, but overall, she’s never had a reason to be sick of love and this holiday that just makes single people feel shitty about themselves.

“Whatever your strongest rum is, I want that.”

Emma turns to see a man sliding down at the barstool in front of her. No one is sitting up here tonight. Everyone is in the booths and at the tables, so what the hell is this guy doing up here?

Alone.

She quickly glances over him. He’s got on a white button-down, the top few buttons undone, and a leather jacket on top of it. His hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it, and Emma can’t tell whether he just doesn’t know how to do his hair or if he’s one of those guys who tries to artfully mess his hair up. From everything else about his looks, he’s definitely a guy who tries to do that.

You don’t look like him and wear a leather jacket if you don’t know you’re attractive.

The blue eyes alone could probably get half the girls in here into bed with him.

Woah, Emma.

That’s definitely taking her judgment of people a little too far.

“You don’t want something specific?” Emma asks him.

“Whatever can get me drunk.”

Emma’s brows raise, but she quickly tries to neutralize her face. She judges people all the time, but they can’t know that she judges them. She would lose her tips, and she needs those to live and to pay bills and to be able to buy Henry new shoes and the 56-pack of crayons he wants that has all of the specialized colors.

“I am technically not supposed to encourage a customer to get drunk, but I will get that rum for you.”

“Thank you, lass.”

Emma bends down and searches through their shelf of rum, pulling out a bottle that won’t break the guy’s bank but that tastes good enough, and pours him a glass. “You need anything else?”

“Do you serve food up here?”

“We do, but sir, if you’re here for a date, I’m afraid – ”

The man downs his drink before slamming the glass against the bar top. He winces and then adjusts the tumbler.

“I’m not here for a date. I’m simply here for some food and a few more glasses of rum.”

“I’m not supposed to let you have enough to get drunk. I wasn’t kidding about that.”

“Lucky for you, I have a high tolerance.”

Emma’s eyes roll, and she turns away to hide that before grabbing a menu off the shelf and then handing it to him. “You can look through this, and then when you’re ready, I’ll send your order back to the kitchen.”

“Thanks, love.”

“Not your love.”

Oh shit. She shouldn’t get snippy with him. She was just thinking about how she needs the tips.

56 pack of crayons and all.

“Sorry,” Emma mumbles. “Force of habit.”

“You have a lot of people call you love? I didn’t know there was such a British population in Portland.”

“I have a lot of people call me by pet names,” Emma corrects, forcing her smile back onto her face. “Baby, sweetheart, honey, whatever else men can come up with when they’re trying to hit on me.”

The man nods and places his hand on the counter. She glances down at the movement, notices the fact that he has a glove on just that one hand, and as much as she is curious, she’s sure as hell not about to ask. Her five-year-old might ask, but she’s decidedly not five and has better manners than that.

“I apologize, love. Fuck. Didn’t mean to say that.”

Emma chuckles and turns around to get him a glass of water. She should have already done that, but she got distracted. “It’s Emma. Emma Swan. I’m sorry for not telling you my name earlier. I should have as soon as you sat down. I seem to be off my game tonight.”

“Killian Jones.”

She turns around with his water and puts it down. “It’s nice to meet you. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Emma stays busy for the next hour, serving drinks and doing the take-out orders, and while people come up to the bar, none of them stay. They’re here for a fleeting moment, getting what they need, and then going. She doesn’t mind. It’s busy enough in here that she never stays idle, and if she keeps working, this damn day will be over and she can go home, never thinking of engagement rings and candy hearts again.

A round of applause sounds around the restaurant, and Emma looks up to see a man on his knees and his girlfriend with her hands clasped over her mouth.

“Does that happen often?”

“Huh?”

“The proposal,” Killian explains. “Does that happen often?”

“I’d say we get a proposal in here every two weeks, but on Valentine’s Day? At least ten per shift.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I take it you’re not a fan of Valentine’s Day.”

“I think it’s cliched, and I’m not really a fan of cliched.”

“Eh, I think it has its pros and cons. A few clichés are good.”

Emma crosses her arms over her chest. “Like what?”

“Surprises, maybe. If you’re in a long-distance relationship and you ride on a train for five-hours to surprise your girlfriend, I imagine that can be a nice, cliched thing.”

“Is that what you did?”

He drinks half of his glass before stabbing a piece of his steak. “Funnily enough, I did.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Well, when I showed up to her apartment, she was fucking my oldest mate.”

Holy shit.

No wonder he wanted the strongest rum they have.

“You’re kidding? You have to be kidding.”

He scoffs and leans back on the stool, a smile curving on his lips while his eyelashes flutter. “I wish I was.”

Emma shakes her head and grabs his bottle, pouring a little more in his glass. “I’m cutting you off after this glass, but this one’s on me.”

“You don’t have to do that, Swan.”

“Look, I may hate Valentine’s Day, but no one deserves that when they were trying to do something romantic. Hell, no one ever deserves that. Unless maybe they’re an asshole.”

“I guess I’m an asshole.”

“I don’t know you well enough to say for sure, but I doubt it.”

“How would you know?”

Emma shrugs. “I call it my superpower. I’ve got an intuition about these types of things.”

“It’s true. She does.” Mary Margaret steps up beside her and leans forward on the counter. “So, I couldn’t help but overhear your story.”

“Marg – ”

Mary Margaret waves her away. “First of all, I’m so sorry. Secondly, I bet you don’t have a place to stay tonight, so why don’t you stay with us?”

Oh hell no.

“Marg,” Emma hisses, pulling Mary Margaret away from the counter and back against the shelves, “what the hell are you doing?”

“He was going to stay with his girlfriend tonight, but now they’ve broken up.”

“He can stay in a hotel.”

“That’ll be so expensive. Come on. We have a couch.”

“I don’t want to have to spend the night with a stranger. That’s not safe.”

“David is a cop.”

“He doesn’t know that. He could still plan on murdering us.”

“Well, I suppose I do now,” Killian says. She and Mary Margaret both turn on their heels to look at him. “Sorry. You’re not exactly in a discreet spot. I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer, lass. I don’t – you’re too kind, but I can’t accept it.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret begs.

“No.”

“Emma.”

“No.”

“I’m Mary Margaret,” she suddenly says, turning to Killian and shaking his hand. “You’ve had a rough night, obviously, and I think you need some homemade brownies. Let me call my boyfriend, and I’ll clear it with him.”

“What about Emma?”

“Ignore her. She’s paranoid that everyone is a serial killer.”

“She has a point.”

“You’re not a serial killer. We can both tell.”

“Love, I really – I cannot impose on you.”

Emma blinks at him, wondering why the hell British people use so many pet names. She’s not sure what the hell is happening. Why is Mary Margaret inviting him to their apartment? Why is she so insistent on it? This isn’t the first time someone has stumbled into the restaurant wanting to get drunk because something shitty has happened, and it certainly won’t be the last.

But Mary Margaret is Mary Margaret, and Emma guesses she’s going to sleep in Henry’s room with the door locked and his dresser pushed up against the door.

Not that she thinks this is a bad guy.

But precautions and all that. She’s not naïve enough to think that everyone she meets is going to be a good person, and she’s not taking a single chance when it comes to Henry.

“You wouldn’t be imposing in the slightest. Our shift finishes at midnight.”

Emma turns around to Mary Margaret and hisses, “if he murders us, I’m coming back to life to kill you again.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

-/-

“So, what do you do?”

“David,” Mary Margaret sighs. “Don’t make him uncomfortable.”

“He’s sleeping on our couch. I can ask him what he does.”

“Be nice.”

“I’m getting my Masters in Civil Engineering at NYU.”

Emma lets out a low whistle before catching herself. Damn. That’s impressive, especially considering she’s currently in a bunch of lit classes with eighteen-year-olds who couldn’t care less about the classes they’re in. They also complain about having class at eight in the morning and then finishing all of their classes by noon, but, really, she can’t be bothered by them too much. If her life had gone the way theirs had, she imagines she would complain about being up at eight in the morning, too.

Hell, she does now. Just for entirely different reasons.

“Something to say about that, love?” Killian asks, both brows raised.

She bites her tongue at the name. He’s been letting them fly for both she and Mary Margaret all night, so it really must be a force of habit and not him trying to get into her pants.

“Not a thing.”

“So what do you plan on doing with that?” David asks Killian.

“Well, I am planning on – ”

“Mom.”

Oh shit.

Emma turns around and sees Henry standing in the hallway. He’s in his pajamas, his hair pushed up from where he’s been sleeping, and he only has one sock on. How the hell does that always happen?

“Kid, what are you doing awake?”

“You guys are loud. Who’s that?”

Emma looks between Henry and Killian, trying to figure out how the hell to explain this to a child.

“A friend,” she quickly answers. “He’s going to sleep on the couch tonight before he leaves in the morning to go back home.”

“Where is he from?”

“New York.”

“How do you know him?”

“Alright,” Emma sighs, going toward Henry and gently placing her hands on his shoulders before guiding him back to his room, closing the door behind them. “It’s late, and you need to go back to bed. We’re going to the playground in the morning, remember?”

“The TV man said it was going to snow.”

“Well, when has a little snow ever stopped us?”

She gets Henry back in bed and cuddles up beside him, tucking him in and fixing his hair before kissing his forehead and sighing. She’s exhausted, desperately needs to be in her own bed, but that probably won’t happen tonight.

“Did you have a good day at school?” Emma whispers while she still strokes Henry’s hair.

“Mhm.”

“Did you give your cards to your class?”

“Yep! Can I eat my candy?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to say no to that one. You’ll get far too much energy, and then you’d have to brush your teeth again.”

“Nooo,” Henry giggles, squirming as Emma runs her fingers over his belly. “I don’t want to brush my teeth again.”

“Then I guess candy will have to wait for the morning.”

Henry sighs and shifts in his bed, burying his face into his pillow. He’s quiet, so Emma doesn’t say anything, hoping that maybe he’s going to fall asleep easily. Henry’s going to be in a mood in the morning. She can already tell. Hopefully, and it is a big hope, he’ll sleep in.

There’s almost a 100% certainty that he won’t.

“Is that man your boyfriend?”

Emma nearly chokes on her own tongue.

“What?”

Henry twists around until she can see his face again. “Avery said since I don’t have a dad, that my mom must have a boyfriend. Do you kiss him?”

His face is so twisted over the thought of Emma kissing someone that she can barely hold in her laughter. Her stomach is probably about as twisted as Henry’s face is.

“No, kid, that man is not my boyfriend. I don’t have one, but I promise if I get one, you’ll be the first one to know.”

He won’t be. If she ever does decide to date again, Henry won’t be meeting anyone until she’s somehow sure that everything will go right.

She has no idea how people do this.

It takes a few more minutes for Henry to fall back asleep, soft puffs of air hitting against her neck, and when she’s sure that he’s sound asleep, she carefully untangles herself and moves out of his bed, quietly exiting his room and going back out into the hallway. Mary Margaret, David, and Killian are all sitting in the living room, quietly talking, and Emma tries to slip past them and into her own bedroom only for David to call her over to hear some story about how Killian managed to get here from London. She listens to half of it, but she’s not nearly as intrigued by the stranger in her apartment. When he was nothing but a handsome customer, he was fine. This is much too much.

And that’s exactly why she excuses herself to her room, slipping out of her uniform and taking a shower to wash away the smell of food and alcohol and everything she hates about her job.

She’s going to smell like garlic bread for the rest of her life.

By the time she’s finished, has braid her hair back, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and changed into a pair of pajamas, it’s far past three in the morning. She needs to go to sleep, but she’s not leaving Henry unattended. As quietly as possible, she grabs an extra blanket and steps out into the main room of the apartment, hoping that Killian is asleep and stays that way.

Because this is her life, he is obviously wide awake and sitting at the kitchen table with a still steaming mug of what smells like tea in front of him.

He looks up the moment her bedroom door clicks behind her.

Shit.

“Swan,” he nods.

She nods. How rude would she be to ignore him and walk to Henry’s room?

“Oh. You’re still up.”

“It would seem so.”

“Do you need something? Another blanket? A pillow? Is Netflix not working?”

Killian shakes his head and takes a sip of his tea. She didn’t even know they had tea. Mary Margaret must have had some.

“I’m fine. I assure you that the three of you have been nothing but hospitable when I was fine to find a motel.” He reaches up and scratches behind his ear. She tries her best to ignore the fact that the fingers underneath his glove don’t move. “If I had known you had a son, I – ”

The hair on the back of her neck stands. “You would have what?”

“I would have never accepted Mary Margaret’s proposal. I’m sure you don’t want someone you don’t know being that close to your kid.”

“No, I don’t. You could be the nicest guy in the world, but don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for a second.”

“I would despair if you did.”

Emma scoffs and turns her head away. Stupidly, she looks back. “If you want to spike your tea, I think we have some whiskey.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“I’m off the clock now. I feel like you might deserve it.”

His head tilts back in quiet, broken laughter. “Aye, I suppose I do. It’s been a banner night.”

“I don’t know her or anything, but your girlfriend is obviously an idiot to cheat on you.”

“You don’t know anything about me either.”

“I know that very few people deserve to have their heart broken like that.”

“Is that what happened to you? You had your heart broken?”

She tugs the blanket around her shoulders. “That’s not your business.”

“Forgive me, love. You’re something of an open book to me. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Now she’s the one who needs a drink.

This has not been her day.

Far too much love.

Far too many thoughts of Neal.

Far too many British men thinking they know her when they don’t.

“You don’t know anything about me either.”

Killian sighs and takes another long sip of his tea. “I know you hate Valentine’s Day and have a son while also living with another couple who are slightly older than you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out a few things about you just as I’m sure you’ve done the same to me.”

Emma almost protests. But only almost. He’s right. She’s been watching people for a long time, and it’s easy to know that he uses his looks more than his intelligence to initially make people be fond of him. He’s charming, but he’s also smart. He’s studying a crazy difficult subject at a school that isn’t exactly for slackers, and while he may secretly be an asshole for his girlfriend to cheat on him, she doesn’t get that feeling.

She gets the feeling that he might be as down on her luck as she is sometimes.

“I’m getting the whiskey,” she blurts out. She’s not tired anymore, and if she goes to Henry’s room, she’s going to end up not being able to sleep. “Do you like hot chocolate?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had any.”

“Well, we’re changing that.”

Emma has obviously lost her mind in some kind of sleep-deprived, stressed-out kind of way, but she finds it easy to talk to Killian.

Which is dumb.

She wanted to hate him.

She really did.

But he’s easy to talk to despite the fact that she’s mad about that and that it’s probably one of the worst days of his life. She would assume. She doesn’t know.

What she does know, however, is that he was in the Navy for one year, was involved in an accident, and the compensation he got for that funded his move to the US and his education, which is a lot more information than what he shared with David earlier. It’s kind of fascinating, if not a little tragic, and maybe today wasn’t the worst day of his life.

She may have a little bit of whiskey in her, but she’s not about to spill all of her secrets.

Then again, she’s never going to see this man again. He’ll be a fleeting memory, just a ship passing in the night.

But no. She won’t share. Wounds never close if you keep picking at them, and she’s not going to do that.

Instead she tells him she just started at a local community college and that she hopes to get into the nursing program. She’s never been great at science, but it’s a good career with good pay, and by the time she’s finished with the program Henry will hopefully be at least a little self-sufficient. Besides, she’s got David and Mary Margaret to help her, and she can handle it.

She always has.

His mom was apparently a nurse, and she doesn’t ask about the way he refers to her in the past tense. It’s easier not to. Instead she listens to him share stories of she’d once told him when he was younger. It’s all crazy and stressful, and if Emma didn’t want a better life for she and Henry so badly, she’d probably drop all of her classes out of fear right now.

But the better life is calling.

Killian keeps the conversation flowing from topic to topic more easily than anyone has a right to, and he only occasionally stops, a dark flash settling in his eyes and in the curve of his lips. But just as quickly as it appears, it disappears and he talks of his favorite shows or the runs he likes to go on early in the morning when, miraculously, most of Manhattan is asleep.

“Thanks for this, love.”

“For what?” Emma asks.

“For keeping my mind occupied. I don’t – well, I bloody don’t know what I’d do if I’d stumbled into another restaurant tonight.”

Emma leans forward and tears apart a piece of her pop tart. “You’d be sleeping on some other bartender’s couch.”

“There’s not currently a lot of sleeping going on.”

She laughs and takes another bite before looking down at her phone. “Holy shit. It’s almost six thirty. How are either of us awake?”

“I’m fueled by anger, sadness, and the conversation of an incredibly charming woman.”

His brows wiggle with his words, his smile more of a smirk, and in any other situation, she’d have the urge to slap him.

“I’m going to be dead inside today.”

“I should probably let you go to bed, Swan. I’m sure you’ve got plans today that require sleep.”

“Yeah, I do. I – ”

Almost as if on cue, Henry’s door creaks open, and he walks out into the living room. His hair is disheveled like it always is when he wakes up, and now he is officially missing both socks.

Why can kids not sleep in?

“I’m hungry,” he mumbles, wiping his eyes. “Can we have pancakes? With the faces on them?”

“Kid, I – ”

“I can make them,” Killian interrupts. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“Um, yeah,” Emma nods. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’m going to make some coffee, and then I’ll help. Henry, go brush your teeth.”

“Okay.”

“And I’m going to check to make sure you actually did.”

Henry groans, and Emma hears Killian chuckle. “I was exactly the same as a lad. So, pancakes with faces on them? Where do I find the ingredients?”

-/-

The pancakes are really good.

Much better than the ones she makes, which seems impossible when the recipe is on the box.

And Killian is fantastic at entertaining Henry’s questions, even when Henry asks about Killian’s gloved hand. He makes up some story about being attacked by Peter Pan and being like Captain Hook, and it helps Emma be a little less mortified that her child has no manners.

So on no sleep and a slight hangover, Emma has breakfast with her kid and a half-stranger, and it’s not the worst thing in the world.

It’s actually kind of nice.

And when Killian leaves to catch a train home, he slips her a note with his phone number. He leaves the ball in her court, which she likes, and even though it takes a few weeks, she does end up calling.

Well, texting. It’s easier that way.

Really, the whole thing is easy, and Emma is as surprised by that as anyone. For once in her life, she has hope that something is going to work out.

-/-

Next year Valentine’s Day is spent eating pizza with Killian and Henry with the only acknowledgement of the day being Henry giving the two of them the leftover cards from his class.

It’s perfect.

The year after that Killian doesn’t have to travel five hours to see them.

That’s somehow more than perfect.

“Can we say that our anniversary is Valentine’s Day, love?” Killian asks her as his lips press into her temple.

“Never,” she sighs, “but maybe the day isn’t as bad as it used to be.”

#cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #shireness-says

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 33: Jon Prime

Martin breathed deeply, tilting his head back slightly and closing his eyes. “It smells like snow.”

“It’s a bit warm for that, fortunately.” Jon’s fingers laced through Martin’s, their palms pressed together. “Lessens the chance of frostbite.”

The Institute was closed until the new year, which meant Jon and Martin would be able to move about the Archives freely during the day, rather than only being able to come out at night, and Jon had spent much of the previous month attempting to remember where the cameras in the Institute proper were located so he could avoid them. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do, exactly, since he still hadn’t figured out how to safely dispose of the table, but he supposed he had nine uninterrupted days to figure it out.

For now, however, that was in the future. For now, they walked hand in hand down the streets along the Thames. The typical sounds of a London Saturday evening washed over them, punctuated by bells—the jingle of the bells on the harnesses of the horse-drawn carriages that capitalized on the Dickensian nostalgia, the steady clatter of the bell-ringers who stood on street corners and at shop fronts with their kettles asking for charity, and the gentle tolling of the steeple bells calling the faithful to Christmas Eve services. The sky was overcast, which meant their walk was lit only by street lamps rather than stars or the moon, but that was all right by Jon; there was enough light for him to see by, and he’d never been much of a stargazer. The air smelled crisp and cold—as Martin had said, it smelled of snow, but the air was too warm—and Jon could almost fool himself into thinking he smelled pine and cinnamon.

“I never asked you if you had any Christmas traditions,” he said. “I mean, not that there was ever much opportunity. That first Christmas we were all working in the Archives, I was still trying to be distant and acting like I hated you. The second year I was paranoid and obsessing over the tunnels and Gertrude’s murder, and…” He trailed off, not wanting to bring up the third year. Or the fourth.

“And that was the last Christmas you were aware of,” Martin supplied, squeezing Jon’s hand briefly. Jon gripped it tightly and refused to let him go. “Honestly, not really. When I was little, Granddad had a collection of Christmas poems we used to read together, and we’d sing a couple songs he’d learned as a boy, but I don’t know what happened to the book after he died. Mum used to go candlelight services on Christmas Eve, but…even when she let me go with her, I never got much out of them. I liked sitting out in the evenings and listening to the church bells, though.” A smile flitted across his face as another church tolled out its summons nearby. “How about you? Any Christmas traditions?”

“Not outside those dictated by policy,” Jon said, unable to hold back an exasperated smirk as he thought about the dreaded Institute Christmas party. God, he’d hated it even when he was a researcher, and it had been infinitely worse when he was a department head and supposed to be a presence. “Grandmother was…she’d been raised non-Christian. I think she observed the holidays for her husband when my father and his siblings were young, but after they were out of the house and Grandfather Sims died, she went back to the faith she’d been brought up in, as best she could, anyway. I was never sure what religion she belonged to, actually. She didn’t exactly practice it. I suppose she assumed that I was young enough not to really remember what Christmas and Easter and that sort of thing were like, so she never saw it as her duty to give me any of those traditions.”

“So I guess you were like me. The Christmas holidays were just a reason to be out of school.”

Jon hummed in agreement. “I strongly suspect this is mostly for Tim’s benefit. Possibly Sasha’s.”

Martin laughed. “I mean…if Tim had asked me, I’d have done Christmas with him that last year. But I think he was too upset to even acknowledge it, you know? Didn’t even change the background on his laptop to anything festive.”

Jon’s hand tightened in Martin’s again. Regret swirled through him. He hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to the significance of the dates, and he’d completely missed Tim—whom he’d always seen at his cheeriest around Christmas—practically ignoring the holiday. “I wish…there are a lot of things I wish I’d done differently. The way I treated Tim…the way our relationship deteriorated…that’s probably one of the biggest. That and the way I treated you. Watching our…counterparts do things better just makes it worse, honestly.”

“Because you can’t make it up to our Tim,” Martin guessed. “Jon, wherever he is…wherever he was, I’m sure he forgives you. Now, anyway. Now that he knows you didn’t—there’s blame on both sides. Same with you and me.”

Jon huffed. “No, there’s really not. You were nothing but polite to me—”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t have respected me more if I’d stood up to you sooner.”

Jon had to admit, Martin was right, but he decided he only actually had to admit it to himself. “How would you know if I wasn’t looking you in the eye?”

Martin bumped Jon’s shoulder, but he was laughing at the same time. “Asshole.”

“I’ll cop to that.” Jon laughed, too.

It was a pleasant enough walk, serenaded by the bells and the occasional snippet of a Christmas carol. Martin swept his cane along in front of him, although he didn’t really need it with Jon holding his hand. Still, Jon could appreciate Martin’s desire to be as independent as he could be. Part of what made them work as a couple was that they could function on their own.

Jon and Martin hadn’t ventured out of the Institute in some weeks, certainly not since Daisy’s visit and Jonah’s tormenting of Past Martin, so he hadn’t seen what the decorations looked like. Past Jon hadn’t bothered to describe them, either, merely saying “they have to be seen to be believed”. Jon prepared for the worst as they came around the corner.

To his relief, things seemed…tasteful. Tim, Past Jon, and Past Martin lived on the end of a row of four terraced houses, identical save the trim, and he’d half expected to find it ablaze with colored lights and tinsel, but it was surprisingly subdued. There was a wreath on the front door and a plant of some kind—Jon presumed holly from a distance—hanging from the center of the frame, and handmade paper snowflakes plastered on each windowpane visible from the street, but that was it as far as decoration went. The reason became clear when they drew closer; while the house on the far end of the row had some garland and lights, dark at the moment, and the one next to it bore several blatantly Christian decorations, the one next door to the Archive crew’s home was undecorated entirely. Through the half-open curtains, Jon could see a shaking, age-spotted hand lighting the first of eight candles in a curved holder that looked like a long-cherished family heirloom.

Martin’s cane bumped against the low step leading up to the threshold, and Jon, who knew the drill by now, let Martin lean on his arm to steady himself as he stepped up. Jon steeled himself to reach for the knocker, then noticed a pearly button set next to the door. “Ah, they’ve installed a doorbell, excellent.”

He pressed it. He could faintly hear the chime, more of a clanging really, sort of like a ship’s bell. A moment later, the door opened, revealing Tim in all his festive glory. He wore a sweater that could not possibly feel good on his skin given the sheer tinsel-to-yarn ratio, a floppy sequined hat with a sparkling ball of fluff on one end covered his hair, and he’d traded out his usual discreet star-shaped stud for a dangling glitter-covered candy cane, but the bright grin splitting his face ear to ear outshone it all.

“Hey, you made it!” he cried happily.

Jon couldn’t help but grin. “Sorry we didn’t bring anything. Our oven was out of order.”

“Please. We’ve got enough baked goods made to last us until Easter.” Tim scoffed. “What’s important is that you came.”

“Tim. Did you really think we wouldn’t?”

Martin reached out and tentatively touched Tim’s arm. “Christmas is about family. If we’re really allowed to be part of yours, of course we’d be here.”

Tim’s eyes actually filled with tears, even as he smiled, and his breath hitched. “I’m going to hug you now.”

“Tha—” Martin began, but got no further before Tim lunged forward and wrapped him in a hug. He laughed and hugged him back, dropping his cane in the process, presumably so he didn’t accidentally goose Tim with it. It was a sight at once strange and familiar, but something about it tugged at Jon’s subconscious and he wasn’t sure what. All he could say with any certainty was that it looked different than the times he’d seen Tim hug Past Martin, and he had no idea why.

After a moment, Tim released Martin, then picked up his cane and pressed it into his hand before turning to give Jon a hug. Jon hadn’t hugged Tim—or Sasha, for that matter—except as part of a group hug, and then only once, so he wasn’t prepared for the renewal of long-forgotten, or at least long-buried, feelings of comfort and security that came from one of Tim’s missed-you-buddy hugs. Even as he hugged him back, he tried to hold himself as separate as he could. After all, he wasn’t Tim’s Jon and—

“Nope, not happening,” Tim said in his ear. “No guilt tonight. No anger, no fears, no death. No talking about the past or the future. Nothing about my eyes or your scars or any of that. All of that can wait. It’s Christmas, and it’s about family, and I’m going to stand here and hug you until you cancel your travel reservations for that guilt trip you’re starting on and fucking hug me back properly.”

Jon laughed. “You always did know how to say just the right thing at the right time,” he mumbled as he let himself sink into Tim’s embrace.

Tim tightened his arms. “There you go. Welcome home.” He clapped Jon on the back, then stepped back with a smile. “C’mon. Let’s get this party started.”

“As long as you don’t make us play Strip Charades again,” Martin teased.

Jon stumbled. “Again?”

The way both Martin and Tim laughed at his reaction told him they were just kidding. Probably. He hoped.

The front room of the house did hold all the garish, over-the-top decorations Jon had expected. Apart from what was presumably a Christmas tree under the glut of lights, tinsel, and ornaments, topped with a lopsided star that looked like it had been crafted by a glassblower with the hiccups, there was no part of the wall not covered in garland, ribbon, or something glittery. The coffee table was covered with neatly-arranged platters of every kind of biscuit imaginable, from brandy snaps to shortbreads to something soft and crazed and dusted with powdered sugar, while Sasha and Past Jon tried to shuffle things around to make room for a charcuterie plate. On every other available surface stood a jar candle, lit and emitting a pleasant, Christmas-themed scent, that all mingled together in a miasma that was just a tad overwhelming.

A portrait of an angel in bright tempera paint, with two sets of glitter-dusted handprints for wings, held pride of place on the wall. It looked like a child’s school project, and Jon was going to go closer to peer at the signature when Past Martin came into the room, bearing a tray loaded with six steaming mugs. “I don’t know where we’re going to put these, guys, but—oh, hey, you made it!”

Past Jon and Sasha looked up from their endeavors with broad smiles. Warmth bloomed in Jon’s chest at the relaxed, contented look on his counterpart’s face, and he swore again that he would do whatever it took to keep that look there. “Good Lord, you weren’t joking about the baked goods.”

“This isn’t even all of them. Just what we could fit on the table,” Past Jon said ruefully. “We’ll give you some to take back with you whenever you leave. You, too, Sasha.”

“Sit down,” Tim told them. “All of you. We’re not standing on ceremony. This is just…we’re just getting together, right? Baked goods, hot drinks, telling stories, maybe playing some games that don’t rely on being able to see?”

“Damn. I was looking forward to dominating you at ‘I Spy,’” Martin said with a straight face. Jon choked back a laugh.

Sasha perched in an armchair, her legs crossed beneath her as she took one of the mugs from Past Martin. Past Jon and Tim sat on the sofa, and Martin and Jon, as was their wont, took the loveseat. As Martin accepted a mug from the tray—Jon found himself continually delighted that they always made sure there was a mug with a distinct carving or detail to it so Martin would be able to tell his from the others if he set it down—he asked, “How was the Institute party this year?”

Jon hid his smile behind his own mug at the chorus of groans from the other four. “That bad, huh?”

“Oh, God.” Tim picked up a gingerbread man and bit its head off savagely.

“So first of all,” Sasha said, “there’s the usual bullshit that comes from an Institute event—namely, a bunch of upper-class old white men talking down to anyone who isn’t and a load of rich people expecting everyone to suck up to them—all of whom, I might add, we had to interact with because, between the CO2 system getting installed, the fire, the infestation, and the subsequent cleanup, not to mention the usual requisitions and expenses we had to deal with, the Archives apparently had the highest budget of all the departments this year, so we had to deal with the donors—”

“Hey, at least there were four of you to spread it around a bit,” Martin pointed out. “Our Tim and I had to do it all on our own. The Not-Sasha didn’t show and Jon left early after spending the entire time he was actually there in a corner nursing a glass of wine and hissing at people walking past.”

“I would like to register a protest about that description.” Jon rested his hand on Martin’s leg, and Martin covered it with his own. “Unfortunately, it would do me no good, because it’s accurate.”

Sasha giggled. Past Martin snorted. “Yeah, well, then you had that one guy who thought he was God’s gift to women. Half the female-coded people at the party spent the night trying to get away from him and the other half were practically dripping off of him, until he made the mistake of flirting with a married woman whose husband is apparently some sort of underground fighter. Who took it aboveground. There was punch everywhere, it was nuts.”

“At least that was towards the end of the night,” Tim added. “And made slightly more interesting by the fact that whoever was in charge of the music managed to find ‘Bad, Bad Leroy Brown’ and put it on in the background while it was going on.”

Past Jon sighed heavily. “You know, I think I would have been able to handle all of that if I hadn’t also had to deal with Elias. Bad enough having to pretend I don’t know what he is or what’s going on. Worse to have to pretend I didn’t know what he did to Martin.”

Past Martin blushed and looked down at his mug. Tim’s hand tightened on his own, but then he said evenly, “Hey, I already told them. We’re not talking about any of that heavy stuff tonight. This is a night for fun. We can vent about Elias fucking Bouchard on…Monday, ‘cause we’re not talking about it on Christmas either.”

“Yes, sir,” Past Jon said with a mocking salute. Tim kicked at him halfheartedly, but he was laughing, too.

The conversation did shift after that, thankfully. They nibbled at the biscuits and cheeses on the table as they talked about the best and worst Christmas parties they’d ever attended. Martin was attempting to describe the horror that had been Peter Lukas’ Institute shindig when the doorbell chimed. Past Jon looked up with a frown. “Who could that be at this hour? On Christmas Eve, no less?”

“I’ll get it.” Past Martin set his mug down and crossed over to the front door, then opened it.

“Here we come a-caroling—” The lone voice that started singing was high, young, and punctuated by the peculiar wobble caused by someone hopping from foot to foot on each downbeat while they sang.

“Charlie, where’s your coat?” Past Martin sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“It’s not so bad as long as I keep moving,” a child’s voice replied.

“Go home and put a coat on. Or at least a sweater.”

Past Jon rolled his eyes at Jon, but he was smiling fondly; Jon wasn’t sure if it was at Martin’s instinctive tendency to mother hen or at the idea of the child on the stoop. From the expressions on his and Tim’s faces, Jon suspected they’d had more interactions with Charlie beyond the initial one when he’d dropped off the casserole and cake the day they moved in.

Their expressions froze, however, when the child’s voice replied, “I can’t. Nan says I’m not allowed in the house by myself, so I have to stay outside until she gets home from midnight mass.”

“You didn’t go with her?” Past Martin asked.

“Oh, you know…” The child’s voice trailed away.

Past Jon was already up and moving towards the kitchen when Past Martin said, “Tell you what, why don’t you come inside and help us eat some of these biscuits? We can tell stories and sing some carols together until your nan gets back.”

“Will I be in the way?”

“Of course not. We’ve got plenty of room for you.”

“Well…okay.”

Past Martin stepped aside, then closed the door and ushered their new guest over. Jon gave a fleeting thought to how they were going to explain his and Martin’s presence, a thought that was swept aside as soon as he laid eyes on the child. He was no more than seven, still rounded with baby fat, and far too young to be left outside alone after dark. He was dressed in a shirt too thin for the weather, and despite his brave words outside he was shivering slightly as he got warm.

What left Jon breathless, however, was the fact that, save for his hair—which was a dark reddish-brown instead of bleached blonde—he was a dead ringer for Annabelle Cane.

Fortunately, Charlie—if that’s who he was—didn’t notice Jon’s face at first, or anything else about him. His attention was caught by the painting that had caught Jon’s eye upon entry, and his whole face lit up. “You really framed it?”

“I told you it was good enough to be in a museum,” Tim pointed out.

Charlie scuffed a shoe against the carpet. “Yeah, but I thought you were just saying that ‘cause you thought you were supposed to.”

“Tim never does anything he’s supposed to,” Past Jon called from the kitchen.

“Shut up,” Tim called back, but he was laughing.

Charlie giggled. It sounded like the usual innocent, impish laughter of a child, but Jon was on edge enough to be wary. Even knowing the entities didn’t usually like the fear of children, he was…worried. The Web, more than any other save perhaps the Dark, had a tendency to mark children, or so he’d gleaned from all the statements he’d consumed over the years, not to mention his own personal experience. Between his appearance, his name, and the fact that abuse and neglect could sometimes beget exactly the sort of survival tactics that would draw the attention of the Mother of Puppets, it was a risk, and Jon couldn’t help himself.

He reached out with his powers, just a little bit. He didn’t have Tim’s eyes, and he’d never quite understood how Elias saw and identified the marks, but he could, at the very least, sense if someone had a statement to feed the Eye. Even if it would be something the Eye found unappetizing or…unfinished, if Charlie had been touched by one of the fears, he would know.

Nothing. He almost gasped with relief. Charlie was a solitary child, starved for affection, certainly vulnerable to a surprising number of the entities as well as just ordinary horrible people, and aware in a way even Jon and Martin had never been at his age that his grandmother hated him—and his father had definitely been one of Annabelle’s brothers. But none of the fears had even started giving him attention. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Jon withdrew his mind and smiled, and in that instant, Charlie tore his attention away from the angel and caught sight of Jon and Martin sitting on the loveseat. “Oh! Hello. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You’re fine,” Jon assured him.

Past Martin patted Charlie’s shoulder. “Charlie, this is my cousin Kieran and his fiancé, Walter. And this is our friend Sasha, she works with us…guys, this is Charlie. He lives a couple doors down.”

“And he’s an amazing baker, too,” Tim added, sweeping a hand at the mass of plates on the table. “He helped us with all this.”

Suddenly, Jon understood why there were so many baked goods. “And a fine job he did of it. It’s wonderful to meet you, Charlie.”

“Good to meet you, too.” Charlie gave Jon a broad, gap-toothed smile, but his eyes were puzzled. “Are you Jon’s cousin, too? You look a lot like him.”

“Ah—not his cousin, but we are related,” Jon said, which was true enough to be getting on with. “I suppose ‘cousin’ works, though.”

“They’re visiting us for Christmas,” Past Martin explained, shooing Charlie towards the sofa. “Here, come have a seat…Kier, you were telling us about that work party that went south?”

“That was it, really,” Martin said. “I had to do most of the talking, but there wasn’t really a lot of talking to be done. Quietest office party I’ve ever been to.”

“Where do you work?” Charlie asked innocently as Past Jon came back with a mug for him.

“Oh, that was a couple years ago. I don’t work there anymore.” Martin tapped the corner of his eye. “I went blind earlier this year. But I used to be the personal assistant to a man named Peter Lukas.”

Charlie accepted his mug from Past Jon with a surprised thank-you and settled onto the sofa between Past Martin and Past Jon. “I’m sorry you went blind. Is it scary?”

“It was a little, at first, but I’m used to it now.” Martin squeezed Jon’s hand and directed a smile at him. “And I have the best support I could ask for.”

Jon smiled back. “I do what I can.”

Tim plied Charlie with sweets for a minute, effectively distracting him from asking Jon or Martin any more questions. He waited until Charlie was halfway through a florentine before he said casually, “I bet it’s not much fun at your grandmother’s church. Not on Christmas, anyway. Maybe sometimes it is, but if you have to sit still for a whole hour?”

“Oh, it’s more than an hour. It’s a long, long time. Nan won’t be back until very late,” Charlie said. “But there’s lots of music, and I love it when the lights are off and all the candles are lit and it’s quiet except for the chanting and singing and the organ playing. And I like listening to the stories and the messages.” He suddenly looked anxious as he looked up at Tim. “And I can sit still, honest. I’m very, very good in church.”

“I believe it,” Tim assured him quickly. “You’re good everywhere else, so why not in church?”

Charlie looked hopeful. “You really think so?”

Tim ruffled Charlie’s hair, making him giggle. “I sure do, buddy. Why didn’t you go with your grandmother this year?”

“Oh…” Charlie’s face fell, and he looked down into the mug in his hands. After a moment, he mumbled, “I’m not allowed to go back to church with Nan unless I stop being a boy.”

Two bright spots of color appeared in Tim’s cheeks, and he pressed his lips tightly together. The look Past Jon and Past Martin exchanged told Jon this was not a new and startling discovery for them like it was for him, but then, if they’d truly interacted with Charlie for a while, he’d probably told them something like this before. It still seemed to upset them, though.

“Is that your nan’s rule, or the church’s?” Martin asked, in the same tone he’d once used to ask Jon how many times he’d listened to the tapes after the Watcher’s Crown—gentle and patient, but with an undercurrent of worry and maybe a bit of anger that was being restrained so the questioned didn’t think it was directed at him. It brought back memories of those horrible—weeks? Months?—after the world ended, but also brought feelings of safety and security and love.

Charlie responded to it the same way Jon always had. He raised his head and gave him a look of mingled sorrow and trust. “Both. The teachers at church say God won’t recognize me if I’m a boy, and Nan says Mum and Dad wouldn’t either.”

“Well, that’s silly,” Jon said, trying to summon up the brusque and authoritative face he’d put on as the Archivist. “Anyone who doesn’t recognize you because you’re a boy isn’t someone who knows you, or loves you. You would know your parents no matter what they looked like, wouldn’t you? Even if you haven’t seen them in a while.”

“I—I think so.”

“Then they’ll know you, even though you didn’t tell them you were a boy the last time you saw them in person. And if they don’t, they don’t deserve to know you.”

“You can trust him, you know,” Sasha said sagely. “He knows everything in the world.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Really? Everything in the whole world?”

“Just about.” Jon decided not to go into the limitations of his abilities, or indeed what those abilities were. They weren’t important to the discussion.

Charlie studied Jon with a gravity far beyond his years. At last, he asked, “What’s her name?”

“Whose name?” Jon frowned. Had he missed part of the conversation?

“My—Mum said my sister was on the way. But something went wrong, and Nan said Mum and the baby both died. I never even got to meet her. If you know everything in the whole world, what’s my sister’s name?”

Jon hesitated. He wasn’t sure if that was actually something he could Know, considering there was a good chance everyone who knew the answer to that was dead. But he knew he had to try. And if he couldn’t come up with the answer, he wouldn’t lie. He wouldn’t. He reached out with the Eye, feeling the familiar crackle of static as he did so.

In the end, it was easier than he’d thought—just a matter of plucking the right information from the right heads. The date and location of Charlie’s mother’s death from his grandmother’s mind, a nurse who’d been in the room, a buried memory of a gasped-out conversation, and a startlingly clear pair of blue eyes meeting her mother’s before taking her last breath. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Athena Joy,” he answered.

Charlie looked at him, then smiled, too. “Athena Joy Cane is a pretty name.”

It effectively ended the serious part of the conversation, which was a relief. Instead, they started telling stories of Christmases they’d experienced when they were younger, which devolved into jokes and silly stories. Tim got up to refill everyone’s mugs at one point. He was gone for quite a while, and Jon would be prepared to swear he heard the kitchen door open at least twice, but he didn’t say anything. Not then. Instead, he simply accepted his refill and watched Tim settle back onto the sofa.

“Shame it’s so overcast,” he commented. “I took a peek outside, and it’s still cloudy. I love studying the sky on Christmas Eve.”

“Looking for Father Christmas?” Sasha teased.

“Ha, ha.” Tim stuck his tongue out at her. “No, I just like looking at the stars. I mean, I always like looking at the stars, but there’s something special about it on Christmas Eve.”

Past Martin looked wistful. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I used to sit and watch the stars while I listened to the bells. I could almost convince myself the stars were ringing, too.”

“What bells?” Sasha frowned.

“Church bells, mostly. I didn’t attend services or anything, it wasn’t—” Past Martin checked himself with a swift glance at Charlie. “I always felt like the message in the bells was more comforting.”

“‘The wrong shall fail, the right prevail’,” Martin said softly.

Jon looked over at Martin, struck by the words in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “What was that?”

“It’s a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Someone put a tune to it later. Granddad taught it to us, remember?”

Past Martin opened his mouth, then memory lit up his eyes. “Oh, yeah! ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.’ Yeah, that makes sense, now I think about it.”

“How’s it go? Can you sing it?” Charlie asked around a mouthful of mint meltaway.

Jon expected Martin to prevaricate or enter a stammering denial. Certainly Past Martin blushed and opened his mouth to. But before anyone could say anything, Martin took a deep breath and began. “I heard the bells on Christmas Day their old, familiar carols play…”

Jon had only heard Martin sing a couple of times before—the time he’d sung to the little girl in the Archives, and when he’d sung along to the recordings while they helped the others set up the house—and the former he’d been barely audible and singing to entertain a child, while with the latter it had been a bit difficult to parse out what was Martin (or Past Martin) and what was actually on the recording. This was different. This was Martin alone and unaccompanied and singing a song he meant in a voice meant to be heard, and it was one of the purest, warmest, most beautiful things Jon had ever heard in his life, topped only by his name on Martin’s lips and the sound of him saying I love you.

It took until the third verse for Past Martin to finally join in, but when he did, it only added to the song. Jon let the words fill his mind as the music settled in his soul. They spoke at first of a message of despair, but then of hope, reminding the singer—the poet, really, Jon supposed—that hate wouldn’t, couldn’t, win in the end. That there was still a greater power out there.

When they finished, Charlie stared at them both with shining eyes. He wasn’t alone in that; both Tim and Past Jon looked as though their brains had short-circuited. Jon couldn’t blame them. Honestly, even he hadn’t known Martin had a voice like that.

“That,” Sasha said softly from her armchair, “was brilliant.”

“I like that song,” Charlie said. “Do you know any others?”

Past Martin blushed a flaming red, but Martin simply smiled. “Lots. What’s your favorite?”

It was the right thing to say, apparently, as Charlie launched into a song he liked that even Jon, who’d never really sung Christmas songs until he’d been in college and his friends had all but bullied him into it, knew all the words to. Sasha joined in, along with both Martins, and eventually Tim and Past Jon recovered enough to join in as well. They spent the next couple of hours interspersing songs with stories and poems, from the familiar to the obscure. Charlie’s enthusiasm was impossible to quash and even harder not to respond to.

Eventually, however, his eyelids flickered, and it was obvious he was forcing himself to stay awake. Sasha caught Past Martin’s eye and nods quickly at him; Past Martin nodded back and set his empty mug down. He ran his fingers through Charlie’s curls for a moment, then started to sing a song Jon had never heard before. “When the mountain touches the valley…”

Martin joined in with a soft harmony—or perhaps it was considered a counter-melody, Jon wasn’t quite sure—and it was another hauntingly beautiful song. Tim caught Jon’s eye and jerked his head towards the light switch; Jon nodded, slipped off the love seat, and turned off the main lights, leaving them bathed only in the glow of the candles and the Christmas tree as the Martins sang. By the time the song ended, Charlie was curled up in Past Martin’s lap, sound asleep.

“That worked surprisingly well,” Past Martin said, keeping his voice low.

“My God.” Past Jon’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Jon didn’t think it was to keep from waking Charlie.

Sasha snorted softly. “Seriously, why did you not study music in school, because that was fantastic.”

“I-I mean…I had to drop out,” Past Martin reminded her. “We needed the money. I was studying music before that.”

“Wait, seriously?” Jon said, startled. “How did I not ever know that?”

“Jon, you never asked,” Martin said, squeezing his hand. “We never really talked about college or anything like that. I dropped out, that was all we ever brought up. But yeah, I was in a music program. That woman, um, what was her name—the one that came up after the Christmas concert?”

Past Martin frowned. “God, I don’t…Mrs. Smith?”

“Yeah, her. The one that said she knew Granddad.” Martin sighed. “Anyway, she’s the one that suggested I audition for the program. Got in, too. But I was only a couple weeks into the first term when Mum got really bad and I had to drop out.”

Tim shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me, Martin.”

Past Martin blushed furiously. Sasha put her mug to her lips, but since she didn’t take a sip, Jon guessed it was to hide a grin. “If I’d known that, I’d have bought you some music books for your birthday or something.”

“Oh, I don’t—I don’t really sing anymore. Not like that. Just, you know, folk songs and that sort of thing. I was never all that great with the fancier stuff, really. I’m okay with choral stuff, but…” Past Martin trailed off.

Jon decided to spare him and change the subject. “I take it Charlie’s been spending a lot of his time over here? He seems…comfortable.”

“Yeah. His grandmother’s not the outgoing type, but she’ll have her bridge club over or a sewing club or something and he has to either stay in his room or go outside, so lately he’s been coming over here,” Tim answered. “He’s a good kid. And he likes us, too.”

“Jon’s his favorite,” Past Martin added with a teasing smile.

Jon looked pointedly at the little boy cuddled against Past Martin’s chest, relaxed and contented, with his fingers curled in one of the cables. “Are you sure about that?”

Past Jon gave a soft, shaky laugh. He still looked rather stunned, which, well, Jon couldn’t blame him. “Frankly, I think his favorite is ‘whoever is paying him attention at the moment.’ He’s well cared-for from a physical point of view, but…”

Jon understood. His grandmother had been much the same—resenting being asked to raise a child after her own were grown, mourning his father and constantly reminded of him every time she saw Jon, making sure he was fed and clothed and educated but never taking the time to get to know him. He imagined it would have been worse if she’d known he was queer, although he couldn’t be sure.

“He seems like a good lad,” he said. “Lucky thing he has the three of you.”

All three of them seemed embarrassed by that. Sasha didn’t even try to hide her grin this time. “Suppose his grandmother will think to look over here for him if she gets back and he’s not at home.”

“If she doesn’t think of it herself, I left her a note,” Tim said.

“I thought I heard the kitchen door,” Jon said, raising an eyebrow.

Tim ignored him. “I said we’d keep him until the morning if she gets back too late. Frankly, I wouldn’t send him back at all if I didn’t have to, but…”

“No, me, either.” Past Martin got carefully to his feet, cradling Charlie in his arms; the boy’s head flopped onto Past Martin’s shoulder as he nestled against him in his sleep. “I’m going to go tuck him in, at least for a bit. Be right back.”

Past Jon watched him leave the room with an expression that felt familiar to Jon. He brought Martin’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it gently. “All that goes to prove I’m right, you know. You’re going to make an excellent father someday, Martin.”

Martin laughed softly. “Thanks. I think.”

Past Martin came back into the living room and took his seat. Tim and Past Jon leaned into him from either side, and the six of them just sat together for a bit longer in silence as the candle flames flickered and the lights on the tree twinkled.

Finally, Tim started singing, his voice low and rumbling, a Christmas song Jon was mostly familiar with. Past Martin joined in, then Martin, until all of them were singing along as the world turned on and the clock ticked over to midnight and Christmas Eve turned to Christmas Day.

And for a little while, Jon felt completely at peace.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#jonmartin #tma #the magnus archives #implied transphobia #implied emotional abuse #death mention #child death mention

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dlwritings · 4 years

Text

Got Your Six | Tom Holland | pt 8

series masterlist found here

general masterlist found here

pairing - mob!Tom x reader word count - 4,198 warnings - swearing, oral (f receiving), fingering, choking, m/f sex, dom!Tom

summary - A thunderstorm wakes (Y/N) up, and Tom decides to keep her company.

(previous) (next)

About three weeks passed, and things were going smoothly for the most part. Tom, Harrison, Harry, and Sam took turns accompanying us to work. Everyday when we got home, Tom and Harrison would help us train. Tom and I went to the shooting range on Fridays, and April was still unaware. It was all working really well.

But at the same time, it wasn’t. And there was only one reason it wasn’t working, and that was Tom.

Because I no longer hated Tom. I really, really liked Tom. Everything was so much easier when I hated him.

Now that we were no longer at each other’s throats, I saw how fun he actually was and how much he cared about the people around him. He was funny and witty, and we were able to keep up our banter without the malicious intent behind it.

Also, he was sexy. Had I mentioned that he was sexy? Had I mentioned that, when he wasn’t being an asshole, he was irresistibly, mouth-wateringly sexy? And he was never an asshole anymore. It was completely infuriating. If I wasn’t afraid of destroying his character development, I would’ve started being rude to him again. I just didn’t want to be the reason he was back to square one.

So, we got along well. And it was fun. And the six of us became really close.

If April and I were going to watch a movie in the living room before we went to bed, 99% of the time, the boys joined us. Harrison and April would cuddle up together on one side of the couch, and I would use one of the other boys as my pillow.

Of course I didn’t have a preference as to who I was using.

I found out that Harrison loved Batman movies, Tom liked 90s comedies and any action film, Sam was a Star Wars fan, and Harry was a secret sucker for rom coms. Not only that, but we had bonfires two Fridays in a row, and April and I even dipped our toes in their pool from time to time. It felt so much like a vacation, I started to forget that there were people out to get us.

On the third Friday, we were all prepared for another bonfire, but Mother Nature had a different idea. It had been raining all week, and we were really hoping it would let up. While there were peaks of blue behind the clouds throughout the day, by the time the sun set, it was raining harder than it had been all week. Rainy weather seemed to make everyone lazy, because we all retreated to our rooms before midnight.

The minute the first rumble of thunder sounded, I knew I was a lost cause. It had been years since I had been capable of sleeping through a thunderstorm. The minute there was a slight boom, I knew my eyes wouldn’t shut until it was all over. At 22-years-old, nothing had changed.

By the time 1:00 rolled around, I was still awake. I decided to get out of bed and make some tea. Harry had been telling me that chamomile tea was his number one go-to drink when he couldn’t sleep. I figured there was no harm in trying it. I crept quietly into the kitchen, remembering quickly that I was the only bedroom on the main floor. As long as I didn’t drop any pots or pans, I was sure I wouldn’t wake anyone up. I started the kettle on the stove and stood on my tip-toes to get down a mug from the cupboard. As I was getting a teabag from the pantry, I heard someone coming down the stairs. I plopped the bag in my mug just as Tom walked into the room.

“Hey,” I said. “Did I wake you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said offhandedly. “The slightest noise gets me up. Think I’m paranoid.”

“I think that’s justifiable,” I said. There was a particularly loud rumble of thunder that made me jump and squeeze my eyes shut. The kettle whistled around the same time, so I reached to stop it.

“What, you afraid of thunder or something?” Tom asked, his voice teasing. I smiled softly and poured my tea, jumping again at the next crack in the sky. When I looked up at Tom, I saw that he looked a little concerned.

“You want the truth?” I said. He nodded, and I hesitated but decided to explain anyway. “When I think of storms, I think about my parents fighting.” I took a sip of my tea, hoping that Tom wouldn’t ask any questions, though I knew the statement was too vague to not warrant any further discussion. It had just been a long time since I told anyone about my parents. Now that I thought about it, maybe I never had.

“Why is that?” Tom asked. I pressed my lips into a tight line as I leaned up against the countertop.

“Wanna make some tea?” I asked him. Tom nodded and got himself some tea from the cupboard while I got him down a mug. The water was still hot, so he poured it without turning the stove back on. I spoke while he wasn’t looking at me.

“Growing up, my parents always fought during storms,” I said. “Like, it seemed like they saved every screaming match for a thunderstorm.”

“Why?” Tom asked, blowing on his drink as he brought it to his lips.

I shrugged. “I think they thought April and I couldn’t hear them. But we could. We would always fall asleep in the same bed, and I’d just hug her and talk to her to drown out my parents until she fell asleep. I’d stay awake until the storm was over. I think I was really waiting to hear the end of the argument. Sometimes I could make out what they were fighting about -bills mostly- but usually I just heard their voices. Like they weren’t even speaking our language.” I took another sip of my tea. “April got over it as we got older, but I guess I never really did. Now I just can’t sleep during storms.”

I jumped onto the countertop and winced at a rumble of thunder. Tom sat beside me. I needed to keep my mind off the storm, so I kept talking. I figured I was word-vomiting, but as long as Tom wasn’t going to protest, I was going to continue. “I think a lot of people see me and April and think we have these really lovely and cushy lives,” I said. “I’ve always felt that romanticizing people based on what you see on the surface is really toxic, but that’s what people do. They see us working at a cute bakery and laughing with our parents, and they think, Those girls must have it all, but we don’t. Like, we may not dress like it, but we don’t have money to toss around, you know? Any nice clothes we get came from garage sales or thrift shopping or presents for holidays from family. We live paycheck to paycheck, and I’ll be in debt from college for the rest of my life. And every meal April and I eat with our parents ends in a screaming match over something stupid. But that’s not what people see. They see this Instagram-ready cafe with the cute family and the peppy baristas.” I scoffed. “This picture that we paint of ourselves, these cute and bubbly people we both pretend to be, that’s just it. It’s pretend. They’re not real. At least mine isn’t.”

I shook my head and stared down at my mug. “April’s such a better person than I am. She always has been. People always liked her more, probably because she isn’t closed off and cold to strangers. She just trusts and loves with everything in her.” I took a sip of my tea before shaking my head again. “It’s naive.”

“Has it ever bit her in the ass?” Tom asked. “Being cute and bubbly instead of closed off and cold?”

I chuckled dryly. “Look at where we are now. This all happened just cuz she tucked her hair behind her ear and flashed Harrison a pretty smile and believed he was a normal person.”

Tom cracked a grin. “Fair enough.”

Thunder rumbled louder than it had before, and I almost spilled my drink because of it. I sighed and took another sip from my tea. I rested my head on Tom’s shoulder, and he put his cheek on the top of my head. “It’s weird to think about how we got here,” I told him.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” I said. “Just, like, if you guys hadn’t come in that day, you know? We wouldn’t be here.”

“I hate putting it like that,” Tom admitted. I moved my head to look at him.

“Why?” I asked. Tom jumped off the counter and leaned against the island in front of me, then folded his arms across his chest. He stared down at his feet.

“Because I still think about how this is such a shitty situation for you to be in,” he said. “And everyday that you’re still here, I feel guilty that we walked into your shop and dragged you into this.” I furrowed my eyebrows and shook my head.

“Tom,” I said, kicking my foot out to hit his thigh so he’d look up at me. “I don’t want you to feel guilty about this anymore. I’m not mad that I’m here, and neither is April. We’re doing fine. I’ve learned a lot about life, and I think that’s super valuable. And come on-” I scoffed. “-I met you, right? And I learned that you can grow to like someone you used to hate in a matter of weeks.”

Tom stared at me for a moment, and it looked like there was a battle going on behind his eyes. Just as I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong, he took one step closer to me and took the mug from my hand, setting it on the counter. He put his hands on my knees and pushed them apart so he could stand between my legs. Then, he put his hands on my cheeks and kissed me.

I pushed him away almost immediately, shock going through my body. Tom didn’t say anything, just stood there breathing heavily through his nose. The shock wore off the longer I stared at his pink lips.

I gripped the back of his neck and brought him back in for a kiss. He growled against my lips, his teeth nibbling into my lower lip. I whimpered and tugged my fingers through his hair. “Fuck,” Tom moaned, pulling his lips away from mine. He grabbed my hair and tugged my head to the side, kissing my neck. He was leaving a mark, I knew, and his grip on my hair was tight. Rough. Dominant. Hot.

“Tom,” I moaned, threading my fingers in his hair again.

“What do you want, petal?” he asked.

“B-bedroom,” I stuttered. “Please. Please.”

“Love hearing you beg,” he said, his lips turning into a smirk against my skin. I didn’t say anything, just squeezed my eyes shut and whispered please to him again. He put his arms around my waist and threw me over his shoulder. I giggled a bit as he smacked my ass and carried me to his room. He dropped me onto the bed, and I pushed some hair away from my face as I smiled up at him. “Fuck,” Tom groaned, hanging his head as he hovered over me. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“What?” I asked, my smile dropping. “Like what? What did I do?”

“You’re so-” He cut himself off with a sigh. “-so different. So beautiful and good and honest and real, and I don’t want this to be the only time we do this, okay? I don’t, I never want to, to-” Tom’s hand balled into a fist as he pressed it into the mattress beside me, trying to compose himself. I frowned and furrowed my eyebrows, then brushed my fingers through his hair.

“What’s going on?” I asked. He clenched his jaw then licked his lips and sighed.

“I don’t want to just fuck you like I’ve fucked other girls,” Tom said. “I, I want to make you, make you feel good and kiss you and hold you, but it’s, it’s weird for me because I never do that.” He looked at me and pushed some hair away from my face. “But you make me want to be different,” he said.

“Is that a good thing?” I asked, taking his hand and kissing his palm

He laughed. “Yeah. I think it’s a good thing.” He leaned down to kiss me but pulled away before too long. “Now let me fuck you right.”

Tom started kissing my jaw, then down my neck. My chest was heaving as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of my sleep shirt. He got them all undone, and I sat up to take the shirt off and throw it across the room. Before he could do anything, I put my hands on the back of his neck and pulled him close to me. Our kiss was slow and full of tongues fighting for dominance. I sat up straighter and straddled his hips. Tom pulled his lips away from me and kissed down my chest, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. I threaded my fingers in his hair and held his head close to me as I ground my hips against his. He pulled away from my chest with a pop and brought his lips back up to mine. I moaned into his mouth and scratched my nails against the back of his neck. He pulled away from me again and kissed along my jaw. “God, fuck me, Tom,” I moaned. I tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants and tried to tug them down his hips.

“No,” Tom said. His voice was commanding, so I stopped. “No, we’re gonna take our time. ‘M gonna make you feel so good, baby.” Tom pushed me off him, and I laid down on the bed looking up at him. He kissed me again, slowly and carefully. I whimpered as I felt one of his hands play with the hem of my sleep shorts. His hand slipped past the band and my underwear, and his fingers ran up my folds. I could feel him grin against my lips, and I let out a disappointed sigh as soon as he pulled away from me and brought his hands out of my pants. I watched as he sucked his fingers off and sent me a wink. “You taste lovely, petal,” he said, “and you’re already so wet for me.”

“T-Tom,” I breathed out. “Please. Can you, can you do something?”

“You know-” He chuckled. “-you’re so cute when you beg like that.” I wanted to say something else, but I was distracted when Tom hooked his fingers in the band of my shorts and panties and pulled them both down my legs. He threw them off to the side of the bed, then moved his body so his face was near my core. “God,” he almost moaned, “you smell like heaven.” I whined again and lifted my hips, trying to force him close to me. “Relax, relax, love,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”

My head dug into the pillow as Tom started kissing my thighs. It had been so long since anyone went down on me, and I felt like I could cum just at the idea of it. “How bad do you want this?” he asked, sucking a mark on my thigh.

“So bad,” I whined. “‘S been so long.”

“How long?” he asked. “How long since someone’s eaten this pretty pussy?” He kept bringing his lips closer and closer to where I wanted them, but he kept leaving me disappointed.

“Too long,” I said. My eyes screwed shut as I felt his breath on my core. “Eyes on me baby.” I forced my eyes open and looked down at Tom. Just as fast, his eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones as he looked back down at my core. Before I could beg him to touch me, he pressed his tongue flat against me and gave me a long lick. My hands went straight to his hair as he brushed his nose against my clit.

“Oh, shit,” I moaned. Tom grinned against me and started drawing shapes with his tongue. “Tom, please.” He pulled away from me, starting to leave sloppy wet kisses on my thighs again.

“What do you want, (Y/N)?” he asked, lightly biting my skin.

“Your, your fingers,” I said. Tom teased my cunt with his pointer finger, not quite moving it in all the way. I moved my hips to get closer to his hand, and he allowed his finger to slide in to his knuckles. He slid another finger in soon after and quickly brought his lips to my clit. He sucked it into his mouth, letting his tongue flick it over and over again. “Just like that, Tom,” I moaned, tugging at his hair again and digging my head back into the mattress. I jumped and looked down at him when he slapped my thigh.

“Eyes, on, me,” he said, emphasizing every word.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I watched his every movement, relishing in the way his hair would tickle my thighs. “Tom,” I moaned as he curled his fingers to reach that spot. “I’m gonna come.” His fingers were relentless, and he kept swirling his tongue around my clit until I scratched my nails against his scalp and came. Tom didn’t move his face from between my legs until I rode out my high. He pretty much licked me clean before he gently kissed my thighs.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, running his fingers up and down my legs. I hummed contently, and my eyes fluttered closed. He moved his body so that his knees were on either side of my legs, and he stroked my cheek to get me to open my eyes. “How much farther do you want to go, love?” he asked. “Because I’m not done if you’re not.”

“I’m not,” I said, shaking my head. I grabbed the back of his neck and pressed my lips to his again. He smiled against the kiss and pushed his tongue past my lips. I wrapped my legs around his hips and rubbed myself against him. He pulled away and nodded, then pulled his shirt over his head. I put my hands on his pecs and ran them down his stomach and to his joggers. He let me tug them past his hips and down his legs. His boxers quickly followed. I licked my lips and reached out for him, but he grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the bed.

“Let me get a condom,” he said. I nodded and watched him go into the bathroom. He came back a few seconds later with a foil. He got back onto the bed, and I took the foil from his hand, ripping it open with my teeth. Tom let out a heavy breath and watched as I rolled it onto his cock, pumping him a few times. He grabbed my wrist and pinned them to the bed again. He stared at me as he held his cock and brushed his tip along my folds. “Jesus,” he said, hanging his head. “Didn’t think I could get you anymore wet.” I almost started to beg him to do something, but he pushed himself into me and cut off anything I might’ve said. Instead, I moaned and squeezed my eyes shut. “Hey,” Tom said, slapping my cheek lightly and stopping his movements. My eyes fluttered open as I looked at him. “What have I said?”

“E-Eyes on you,” I stuttered.

“Right,” he said. “Eyes on me.” I nodded, and he finally bottomed out. He stayed that way for a moment before sliding out and slowly thrusting back in. He was fucking me slowly, pressing soft kisses across my neck as he did so. I forced myself to keep my eyes open, though the pleasure made me want to squeeze them shut again. I appreciated how slowly he was going. I felt cared about, but I hadn’t had sex in so long. I wanted to feel him everywhere.

“I, I, ah fuck,” I moaned. “Faster, Tommy.”

“What was that, darling?” Tom said, a smirk on his face.

“Please,” I whined. “You’re not gonna break me. Just, fuck, just go faster.”

“Did I hear you say Tommy?” he asked, nipping at the base of my throat.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Please, please, ah- fuck.”

“Please what?”

“Please-” I hummed as he stopped moving his hips. “Please, Tom, s-sir, boss, fuck, just please.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tom mumbled. He bit my shoulder, then kissed the skin softly. “Call me sir.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay…”

“Sir,” I said. “Okay, sir.”

“Good girl,” Tom cooed. I moaned loudly when Tom snapped his hips against me harder. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-yes, sir,” I said. “Fuck, I love it.” Tom chuckled and kissed up my throat until he pressed our lips together. He grabbed my thigh and kept me close to him. “Can, can you-” I cut myself off with a moan as he lifted my leg above his shoulder and pounded into me at a new angle.

“Can I what, doll?” he asked, his hair flopping in front of his forehead. I knew I wouldn’t be able to form a sentence, so I grabbed his hand and brought it up to my lips, sucking his fingers into my mouth. Tom moaned as I swirled my tongue around his fingers. I pulled them away with a pop and brought his hand down to where our bodies met so he could rub my clit.

“Yes, Tom,” I screamed, tugging my fingers through his hair. He gently pressed his hand against my throat, and my breathing started to get labored.

“What’s my name?” he asked.

“Fuck,” I swore. “Shit. Sir. It feels so good, sir.”

“Are you close?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whined. “Yes, I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me,” he said. “Wanna feel you squeeze my cock.” He replaced his hand with his lips and started kissing my neck. With one little nibble on my sweet spot, I came even harder than I had the first time. “Oh, shit,” Tom moaned. With a few more thrusts, Tom came as well, moaning against my neck. He let my leg fall back against the mattress and had to hold himself up so he didn’t fall against me. He gently laid on my chest, and I threaded my fingers through his hair. He peppered kisses against my breasts, and I slowly felt him soften inside me.

“Tom?” I said after a few moments had passed.

“Mm?” he hummed.

“I hate to do this to you, but I gotta go pee,” I told him. I felt him smile -his lips were still on my chest- before he pushed himself up and slid out of me. I sighed at the feeling and got out of bed, then walked over to the bathroom.

When I got back, Tom was still laying in bed, though he was under the covers now, so I assumed he had gotten rid of the condom. I was hesitant to join him in bed. I knew he had said all of the stuff about not wanting me to be like other girls, but there was a tiny part of me that wondered if he was just saying that to get into my pants.

As if sensing my debate, Tom -who had been looking at his phone- looked up at me. “There’s boxers in the top drawer,” he told me. “T-shirts in the one under that.” I thanked him, deciding that had cleared up whether or not I was staying or leaving. Once I had the clothes on, I joined him in bed. Tom locked his phone and snuggled more under the covers, then turned on his side to face me. I mirrored his position, and he chuckled and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Sounds like the storm’s passed,” he said. I listened for a moment and could only hear the sound of heavy rain outside Tom’s balcony.

“Good,” I said, “cuz I’m tired.” Tom grinned and turned onto his back, putting one hand behind his pillow and one above my head. I adjusted myself so I was laying on his chest with an arm wrapped around his stomach and my legs tangled with his. He started playing with my hair, and I melted into his arms, feeling like I was fitting into a puzzle I had been in before. “Tom?” I asked, my voice piercing the quiet around us.

“Mm?”

“Have we done this before?”

Tom chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Goodnight, petal.”

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

TAGLIST

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #smut #marvel #mob!tom #mob!tom holland #got your six

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hartears · 4 years

Text

Camping: Lee Hyunjae imagine

Genre: fluff, one shot, drama

Summary: When your friend selfishly decides to share the car with her boyfriend to camp in whilst you’re forced to share the tent with Hyunjae.

In text quote: “What happened to us? Why did we end up like this?”

From the very moment your friend had suggested to spend the summer holidays to go camping, you were immediately against it. Mosquitoes lurking around the campsite, crickets chirping throughout the night (with only the thin canvas to pointlessly block the noise), dirt, lack of proper meals and the crumpled sleeping bags supposedly used to make up for your comfortable bed at home, you just didn’t get the hype about camping.

How was this considered leisure? Had not for the fact that your friend had guilt tripped you about her strict parents not allowing her and her boyfriend, Younghoon to spend time with each other, camping was the only choice to change that. Her parents trusted you and if you said “it’s only a girls fun activity,” they’d believe you. Of course by attending such recreation, you had rules of your own;

Girls and boys are seperated when sleeping

You get to shower first for the entire trip

Only people you liked/knew are allowed to attend

You don’t have to drive (you didn’t quite trust yourself behind the wheel)

Once your friend had promised you the conditions were to be met, the first thing to go wrong was meeting Hyunjae sitting in the front seat of the car when Younghoon came to pick everyone up for the trip. To clarify, Hyunjae and you were childhood best friends until highschool was approaching and he decided that humiliating you in front of your crush was hilarious.

“Um why is she coming?” Hyunjae asked, irritation evident in his voice.

Before Younghoon could respond, you shot back a reply, “I should be asking why you’re here, nobody wants a bully around.”

Hyunjae retaliates by clicking his tongue and returns death glares through the wing mirror, “As if a snob is any better, you’re so full of it.” The thought of running Hyunjae over with Younghoon’s rangerover seemed only appropriate after his comment.

“And you’re so full of bullshit!-“

“Guys!” Younghoon yelled which managed to keep both of yous silent for the time being. “If I had known you guys had bad blood then i wouldn’t have let this happen but please don’t ruin the trip. It’s my only chance I get to spend with the one I love. Can’t you guys pretend to get along?”

You and Hyunjae exchange eye contact briefly (acknowledging Younghoon’s wishes) before letting out exasperated sighs. “Fine, as long as y/n doesn’t talk to me.” Hyunjae says and you irritably add,

“As long as Hyunjae stays away from me.”

Finally arriving to the campsite, first things first was everybody helping to set up camp and then exploring the bewilderness. Younghoon had thought it’d be a great idea to hike as a group and knowing your friend, she happily agreed without a second thought. The couple walked on ahead, leaving you and Hyunjae awkwardly following behind. He didn’t once turn to look at you, his eyes followed the backs of the couple whilst cautiously maintaining balance and avoiding any rocks or slippery paths. However, you couldn’t keep your eyes off your feet. You were getting paranoid, your pace was slowing down and the road just seemed to get bumpier and steeper, this was not in your book of fun.

You were beginning to lose sight of everyone, another factor to add to your paranoia. You hastened your steps to prevent being lost and didn’t notice the small landmark peircing just above the surface of the sandy trail until you unevenly step on it and lose your balance. “Watch out!” Hyunjae calls out, and throws himself towards you, his outstretched arms wrap around your shoulders and you both come tumbling down the terrain until reaching flat ground.

“Are you guys okay?!” Your friend calls out, carefully making her way down. To answer her question, you didn’t feel all that terrible. You were held tight in Hyunjae’s embrace, his chin resting on your head and his legs entagled with yours. You realize he took all the damage. “Oh no, Hyunjae? How are you-“

He grunts tiresomely and slowly releases his hold on you. Suddenly you feel a bit cold. “I’m fine, luckily you didn’t climb that high, I guess there are benefits of being a slowpoke.” His right cheek was scraped along with his knees, left elbow and shoulders. You couldn’t understand why he was joking after all that’s happened and you couldn’t help but blame yourself for injuring him. Immediately running to the first aid kit you brought in your duffel bag, you made your way towards Hyunjae only for Younghoon to end up taking the box from your hands and tend to his wounds. A sense of disappointment washed over you when you weren’t able to apply the ointment and bandages on Hyunjae. You must’ve hit your head at one point during the fall because there’s no way you care for him at all.

After dinner and some rest, you were furious that your friend was trying to back out of her promise and ‘watch the night sky’ with Younghoon. The couple didn’t think twice about ditching you with Hyunjae and you knew they weren’t going to leave the car anytime soon. The only option seemed to be sharing the tent with Hyunjae and the very thought of that makes you want to scream. As you approach the large pyramid shaped pavilion, you see Hyunjae lying on his side after finishing preparing your sleeping bag and your side of the tent. He had his eyes closed with his face sticking out from the padded zip up sleeping bag. It was at least 2 am in the morning now, tucking yourself in an hour ago didn’t have seemed to work and despite you and Hyunjae unofficially defining the line between who’s side of the tent is who’s, Hyunjae kept tossing and turning in his sleep, somehow managing to constantly bump into you and leaving you with the choice to push him back.

“Why do you hate me?” he mumbled almost incoherently. You turned to see whether he was awake or not but his eyes remained shut and his chest slowly heaving little breaths indicating his unconscious state.

“As if you don’t know.” You replied back unwittingly and his eyes flash open in an instant. So he was awake you thought. The atmosphere between the the two of you suddenly became intense, his eyebrows suddenly furrowed, you could see the wrinkles crinkling on his forehead and he kept his eyes on you.

“What happened to us? Why did we end up like this?” He says firmly slowly inching towards you.

“Don’t play dumb.” You answered with hostile whilst also considering the fact that Hyunjae and you haven’t started blatantly insulting each other yet. “Why are you even bringing this up? It was a long time ago.”

“Well it doesn’t feel like a long time to me.” He replies calmly which inadvertently mollifies you.

“You told my crush that I liked him and joked that I would’ve been a terrible girlfriend. Ever since I confronted you about it, we’ve been at each other’s throats every time we see each other.” You explained and he exhales wearily. “You were supposed to be my best friend, why’d you do that to me?”

“Well I- I did that...umm because..” He was beginning to fluster which confuses you as his reaction didn’t portray his typical arrogant behaviour.

“I liked you then. M-more than a um, more than a friend.” You let him continue by remaining quiet, “I was immature then and when you told me you had feelings for some other guy, I lashed out and handled the situation the wrong way. I’m sorry I put you through that, I should’ve been honest but i didn’t want to lose you. In the end I lost you anyways.” He held a remorseful expression, one filled with regret and bitterness. He bit his lower lip suddenly nervous as to how you’d react to his confession, and you noticed his face kept contact with the ground to avoid your eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.” His words just seemed so sudden, unexpected and completely out of character. It was hard to believe and process in your head. He ‘liked liked’ you when you were friends and you were clueless of it this whole time.

“I know what i’ve done is inexcusable but I just wanted to tell you now that I have the chance. It’s been slowly eating away at me and at first I thought I could ignore anything I felt about you by pretending to hate you but it just doesn’t go away. My feelings haven’t changed, I’m always still thinking about what we could’ve been and now I’m finally doing something about it. I realize it’s not too late to fix things. To fix us.” He seemed hopeful once he managed to take everything off his chest but a quick glance at your befuddled expression, his eyes darken. “Although you still hate me, right?”

Hyunjae renders you speechless once again, which leads to you blurting everything that comes to mind.

“I-I could never really hate you deep down, I miss when we were friends, you made me wonder why you’ve changed so much but in reality I guess you haven’t.” He was still the somewhat considerate and loving person he was before. You know he was holding up a facade around you and you know after all this time he still cares about you. You don’t roll off a hiking trail for anyone you thought but despite the events of today, within those years of hatred and finally receiving an answer for all that irrationality between the two of yous, it wasn’t as simple to go back to the way things were before. “I forgive you for everything but I think we’ll need time to mend our relationship. Friends?”

He smiles and unzips his sleeping bag, jumping out of the quilt and hugs you tight. Heat begins to rush to your cheeks as he snuggles his face within the nape of your neck, his breaths hitting your skin. “I’ll show you just how much you mean to me. I’ve missed you.”

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straighttohellbuddy · 3 years

Note

Honestly, I cried like, five times yesterday. Three of them were at work, once in front of a customer. People get so shitty at this time of year and I’m just like “I know that taking your anger out on us is a convenient thing, but it’s not nice or fair!! don’t do it!!” So I’m trying to get through but I get a day off on the 23rd so I plan to sleep in.

Lmao I fully get the feeling with the whole western world, as someone who follows the pagan holidays i try not to eye roll too much (my manager has caught me a few times and just laughed lmao) but I love that your love language is gift giving!! It’s one of mine too!! So I fully get it!! I’m glad you were able to find the right gift for your mum tho!! Hearing abt gifts makes me excited for the intended recipient lol. I’m so v lucky to have chosen family I do have as well as my mum in my life. It’s easier w technology mercifully, but my other love language is touches and I’m literally so touch starved 😩😂 but you’re too sweet 🥺 🧡

I feeeel you with treating yourself like a toddler tho!! I try to keep my habit of eating when I immediately come home from work but some days I barely make it past my bathroom and I’m showered and crawling into bed lol. But I’m trying to keep routine. I’ve noticed alarms sometimes help but if I stop instead of snooze them rip my schedule for the evening lmao. Rambling is good, I do it too!! -🐈‍⬛

Sorry this took so long to get to!! i'm so sorry about how you've been treated, seriously im sending you all the love and good vibes, and i hope you get to take a well earned break soon 🧡🧡🧡 we love a good chosen family!! im glad to be back in my home town because the folks who i consider my irl chosen family live here too, and i get to see them!! i'm excited!! mum's super hard to buy for, but she really likes, like, weirdly showy sneakers, like she had a sparkly gold pair for a while there, and she's currently wearing a floral pair, and i saw an ad on insta for a collaboration between Vans and MoMA, and DUDE they have her favourite painting (Monet's Water Lillies) on shoes!! so yeah im mad happy abt it. i didn't used to get touch starved really, im painfully introverted, socially anxious, and probably a little paranoid, so it was really hard to reach out to people and my body was kind of the same i guess?? but now im in love with a girl in another country and i just wanna be able to see her in person so i YEARN so much, and being touch starved in The Worst!!! though i have been trying to be more open with people irl, i messaged one of my best friends this morning telling him that i miss him and would like a hug next time we're in the same town so fingers crossed its soon. some time in january. ah man, i hope you get all the solid hug and affirming touches you need soon. i believe in u and ur routine!! honestly if i could sacrifice a little bit of my good routine for a decent amount of sleep each night, i would, but i literally have too many ideas in my head so im constantly writing, which means im awake, which means im having reasonable meals and showering but not really sleeping.

#black cat anon #your local homosexual with no chill #Anonymous

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pi-cat000 · 4 years

Text

MSA: EVERYONE LIVES!!

Happy Holidays to @nebulous-rain !!! here is a Lewvithur fic for u :). (Also with sort of fluff?…it ended up being more of a hurt/comfort fic).

Also, I got way too invested, and what I initially planned to be 500 words ended up heaps longer. I hope you enjoy the read.

Summary: It’s Mystery Skulls but there’s no limb removal, character death or amnesia. Because these kids deserve a happy ending occasionally. ( Lewvithur)

“So…what do you think?” Vivi nudges Arthur, attempting to catch his attention. Ahead of them looms a very large, very sooky, cave entrance. Hewn from dark stone, flecked with green moss, and resembling the shape of a skull, it is especially ominous in the full-moon light. Mystery, oblivious to the unnerving sight, is sniffing about, trotting back and forth in front of the opening. Lewis watches the dog search about in the grass, moving his attention to Arthur. His friend gives the cave entrance a half-hearted once-over.

“Ah. Yeah. A cave. It looks…damp.” Arthur inches his neck, slightly more nervous than before, but otherwise remains impartial. Though Arthur has never been overly vocal about his love for spooky places he has always exhibited a keen interest in debunking myths and exploration. That is, until recently. Over these last few days, he has become withdrawn and distracted

“This cave is said the be the resting place of a 1000-year-old curse which, coincidentally, caused the mines nearby to shut down. Suspicious right?” Vivi prods. Usually, it is Arthur playing the role of sceptic. Not tonight. Tonight, Arthur is staring at the ground, deep in thought.

“Arthur?” Lewis questions to catch the other man’s attention.

Arthur glances up, side-eying the cave again and shivering. “That’s cool, I guess,” he comments in response to Vivi.

Cool? The way he says it is too quite. Not that Arthur being quiet is out of the ordinary but Lewis can't help but feel the beginnings of worry. Maybe, he’s overthinking it. Everyone is entitled to the occasional mood swing every now and then.

“So, do we want to take a look inside?” He prompts out loud. After two hours of driving they should at least poke their heads in. Vivi hums, starting towards the entrance.

“I wonder what sort of curse it is?” She remarks. “All the stuff I found online was super vague.”

“That last ‘curse’ we looked at ended up being a bunch of weird-sounding wind-chimes,” he says, quickly following after her so their steps are in sync.

Vivi scrunches up her face in irritation, “You know what I mean…A curse curse. Not that fake stuff.”

“It’s always fake stuff,” Lewis snorts, getting a playful punch in the shoulder. “I’m just saying its more likely, you know, going off our track record.”

“Yeah, well, a girl can dream.”

Lewis chuckles, glancing back to check on Arthur. He is trailing behind, watching them. As soon as Lewis makes eye contact the other flushes, looking to the ground again. Odd. He glances to Vivi and she’s frowning at Arthur too, also worried. So, it’s not just him imagining things. Vivi has noticed as well. Both of them share a quick look before continuing into the dark.

Aside from finding two old-school torches, which Vivi spends a good ten minutes trying to light, the rest of the trip down the tunnel is uneventful. Arthur continues to trail behind, lost in thought, and he and Vivi walk on ahead. In the dim firelight, shadows dance along the wall, reflecting off the moss, casting an eerie green glow. The further in they travel, the more claustrophobic Lewis feels. It is like the walls are closing in on them. Strange, considering how wide and spacious the tunnel is. If Lewis were the paranoid sort, he would say it felt like something was watching them.

“Do you think we should just call it a night?” Vivi finally wonders out loud from where she is pacing him, matching his longer steps with small jumps, hands tucked casually behind her head. She is still eyeing the walls with interest, but any full-on enthusiasm is absent. Arthur’s obvious disinterest has them reluctant to go off investigating.

“Yeah, that might be for the best,” Lewis yawns, stretching, trying to shake his unease. “Exploring is only fun if everyone’s enjoying it.”

“What.” Arthur snaps out of his funk, having heard his comment. Lewis winces, realising he may have come across as more annoyed than he was.

“We can’t go home yet. You’ve been looking forward to investigating this cave.”

“We can always come back another time,” he points out. “It’s no big deal.”

“I’m fine, seriously. I just have some things to think about. We should keep going.”

Lewis glances to Vivi but she looks just as confused as he feels. If there is one thing they can both agree on, it’s that Arthur is definitely not fine.

“Okay…” He responds slowly, “If you want.”

“I do want.” Arthur nods at them both and, in a very un-Arthur-like move, walks on, overtaking them. He gets maybe three steps before stopping to peer nervously into the darkness. But he doesn’t look back, choosing to stand alone and anxiously fidget. Lewis frowns, worried, and his expression is reflected back at him by Vivi.

Deliberately, she marches after Arthur, catching his shirt and tugging. Arthur twitches, glancing over his shoulder, listening to Vivi ask something that Lewis can’t quite make out. Whatever it is, it has Arthur waving her away with a smile that doesn’t touch his eyes. Fake, Lewis thinks, doubly worried now.

The next hour is spend zigzagging across the space, taking EMF readings, writing notes, peering into the cracks and holes dotting the stone walls. None of them are really into it. It almost feels like he and Vivi are going through the motions for Arthur’s sake. Even Mystery, who is usually wondering off ahead, is sticking close to the group, not nearly as energetic. Coupled with the damp chill of the cave, it makes for an unpleasant experience all round.

The awkward journey ends when they come to a split in the tunnel. Vivi spends a second contemplating the crossing before leaning in to whisper, “You go with Arthur down that one. See if you can find out what’s bugging him. I tried, but he said he was fine… I don’t know, maybe I was too pushy?”

“Yeah…sure,” He mutters back, having to bend down to hear her speak, “I’ll try.” Vivi can be a bit pushy when she’s worried. Unfortunately, Lewis is not sure he’ll be able to do much better. They’re out in the middle of nowhere in this unpleasant cave. Right now is not the time for personal talks. He'll still try though.

When Lewis turns to examine Arthur, he finds the other man watching them again. Lewis straightens and tries for a warm smile. The smile is met with an almost pained facial spasm. Arthur hurriedly looks down at his feet. Had he done something wrong? Vivi sighs, spinning to face away, Mystery on her heels.

“I’ll take this tunnel with Mystery,” she reaffirms, voice light with foe enthusiasm, “We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

Vivi disappears down the larger of the two routes, glancing at Arthur one last time. Lewis raises his hand in a loose wave.

“Shall we?” He motions, attention back on Arthur, receiving a stiff nod in response.

Unsurprisingly, Arthur is unresponsive to all his further conversation attempts. More disconcerting is how vacant his eyes are, like his mind is a million miles away. It doesn’t help that the tunnel dips down in several places, forcing Lewis to bend low, increasing the feeling of claustrophobia. The silence which falls between them is only broken by the faint drips of water and Lewis grows increasingly troubled the further they walk. It is frustrating. Lewis cares, and he can’t help Arthur if he doesn’t know what’s bothering him.

Lewis is a second away from demanding they call an end to the expedition and return to the van when the tunnel around him opens into a large cavern. Taken off guard by the sudden change in environment, Lewis hesitates, holding his torch high. It barely breaks the darkness. Cautiously, he inches out and notes how the path ahead ends in a steep drop. A triangular stone platform extends out into the gloom. The walls and ceiling are too far away to catch the light, leaving the space on either side of him a pitch black. This cavern must be huge. He moves along the platform, craning his neck to see down over the cliff's edge.

“How far down to you think this goes?” He asks, momentary forgetting that Arthur is giving him the silent treatment.

“How about you find out?”

That…didn’t sound like Arthur.

“Wh…” Lewis starts to turn, but something hits him in the shoulder, tripping him backward. He stumbles, foot meeting with empty space. Arthur grins, hand outstretched from pushing him. Then, Lewis is falling into darkness. What? For one small moment, time slows, and everything hangs in place.

And…Arthur twists.

With his opposite hand, Arthur reaches towards him, fingers spread wide. He grabs onto Lewis’s wrist, tugging. Tears are trailing down his cheeks. One of his eyes is bright green. Unfortunately, Lewis is far too heavy, and his weight pulls Arthur with him. They both start to fall.

Red light flashes behind Arthur, momentarily lighting everything in an ominous glow. Something huge, with gleaming red eyes, looms over him. Terror steals all the air from his lungs so he can’t even yell out a warning when it lunges for Arthur. White teeth flash, clamping onto the arm not holding Lewis. Arthur cries out in pain.

Their fall comes to an abrupt stop.

Lewis swings down in an arc, shoulder smacking into stone, causing his teeth to clench painfully. With his one free hand, he scrambles for a hold so he is hanging over the darkened pit. The torch he had been holding falls past him, illuminating rows of sharp stone spikes before impacting and extinguishing itself on the cavern floor. Lewis shivers, watching its descent.

Then, Arthur is yanked back and away. His grip disappears from around Lewis’s wrist as he forcefully pulled up onto the stone platform by the monster biting his other arm.

“Arthur!” Lewis calls after him, air having returned to his lungs. With both hands free, he has a better hold on the ledge, and he starts trying to pull himself up. Lewis has never been lacking in the upper body strength department, and, with the added fear and adrenalin, he heaves himself up with minimal effort.

“Whoa. Hey…Nice foxy. Let’s not do anything too rash now.” That sounds like Arthur’s voice, but the tone is all wrong. Who is he talking to? Lewis is unsure because there is no immediate response following the question.

“How about, instead of ripping off this poor kid’s arm, we make a deal yeah. What do you think?” Arthur continues.

One last heave and Lewis drags himself back onto the rock platform, resting on his stomach, panting from the activity. Across from him, Arthur is pinned under a giant, many-tailed, fox-like monster. It is hard to make out too many details in the gloom, but its jaws are clamped around Arthur’s upper arm. Lewis’s breath catches and a fresh load of fear freezes him in place.

“Hey, no harm no foul…you promise to find me another host, and I leave this kid no problems, no lasting damage…” Arthur, his face is weirdly warped, continues talking to thing standing over him. His one green eye flashes, very apparent in the dark. The monster growls and sounds vibrate the rock under, hanging in the air. Danger, is what it sounded like. Lewis wants to say or do something, but he’s still frozen. Fear has turned his arms and legs to led. What can he do! One wrong move and that could bite Arthur in half.

“It’s a deal,” Arthur speaks suddenly, answering some unheard question, grinning wide, “Don’t screw this up dog-breath, I’m counting on you.”

Arthur goes completely slack.

For a horrible second, Lewis thinks he is dead. It is enough motivation for Lewis to struggle all the way onto the ledge, inching forward on his hands and knees to check. Arthur is not dead, Lewis can see the rapid rise and fall on his chest. His movement catches Arthur’s attention. Wide, panicked eyes flicker to meet his. They are both golden brown. Gone is the green, the grin and the confidence from moments earlier. It has been replaced with blatant terror.

Lewis is about to reach towards him when is the sound of rapid footsteps draws his and the monster’s attention. Vivi appears in the tunnel opposite him, holding a torch high which sheds a sudden light over the scene.

“Oh my god.” She gasps.

/Be calm, both of you. I mean you no harm. / The disembodied voice echoes in his head, belonging to none of the humans present. The giant fox turns to Vivi, tails waving less aggressively.

Vivi brandishes the flaming torch like a bat, taking an aggressive step forward. “Let go of Arthur!”

/I will. Please be patient. /

The fox, true to word, releases its grip on Arthur’s shoulder, stepping back. In the torchlight, Lewis watches a green, mist-like, substance curl in the air above Arthur. It seeps out from the wound at his shoulder and hangs, swirling and twisting in on itself. Arthur grunts, the process obviously causing some discomfort. The green mist condenses into an orb, hovering, then falling to the stone with a soft plink. Quickly, the giant fox moves further away from Arthur and begins to shimmer a brighter red. Its many tails twist in on themselves as the fox begins to shrink into the familiar shape of a dog.

“Mystery?” Vivi questions, gaping.

With no giant monster in the way, Lewis crawls towards Arthur, anxiously scanning him for injuries. The other man is pale and shivering, but, apart from his upper arm, appears physically fine.

/Indeed./

“What’s going on? What is that thing?” Vivi demands, glancing over the fox-turned-dog and towards him. Lewis can see her relief when she spots them both. Carefully, Lewis reaches out to touch Arthur’s uninjured arm, attempting to catch his attention. Though Arthur’s eyes are open, they fail to focus on Lewis when he leans in.

/A parasitic demonic entity attached itself to Arthur. I have removed and sealed it for the time being. Unfortunately, in my hast, I may have caused some injury./

“Injury? Who’s injured?” At its mention, Vivi's attention is back on the two of them, probing. She hurries over, kneeling on Arthur’s other side. Mystery and the strange green orb are all but forgotten in her concern. Naturally, now the immediate danger of being attacked by a giant fox has passed, all they care about is Arthur.

“Arthur?” She asks, lightly touching his cheek them moving her hand down to check his pulse.

“He’s out of it,” Lewis mutters, helping Vivi manoeuvre Arthur into a more comfortable position so his head is in his lamp instead of the cold stone, “Is it shock?”

/Demonic possession. It is far from a pleasant experience, so it may take a few moments for his mind to recalibrate. I am sorry I did not warn you earlier when I first sense its evil lurking. /

Quickly, Vivi unwraps her scarf and begins to tie it around the bite on Arthur’s upper arm as a makeshift bandage.

“What happened?” She asks, voice raising ever so slightly at the end of the question. She is now looking between him, Arthur, and Mystery.

“We were walking…Arthur got all weird and unfocused. I should have known something was off, but...I didn’t. We came to this cavern,” Lewis gestures at the space around him, “I got distracted trying to see over the edge and…Arthur…he pushed me…”

Lewis waveres at the memory. So close, he had been so close to falling and dying in amongst those stone spikes.

“I almost killed you," Arthur interrupts before he can continue, taking a deep shuddering breath, "I would have killed you.”

“No…No.” Lewis hurries to disagree with Arthur who is now breathing hard and fast, “This wasn’t your fault. It was that uh…whatever that is,” He looks to the inert green marble resting a few feet away. “It was that things fault.”

/Such demonic beings are well versed in the realm of mind control. Any action taken to harm Lewis would not have been your own./ Mystery interjects.

Arthur shivers, twitching at the dog's voice, “No…I should have been able to fend it off…I just couldn't…I was scared… weak...” His trembling increases, and he blinks up at Lewis as if just noticing him.

“Hey.” Vivi interrupts, leaning in towards him, hands stilling in her efforts to secure his injury. “It was a scary thing. That’s understandable. No one prepares for demonic possession. It's not your fault.”

Arthur just flinches, curling in on himself, speaking softly so he's barely audible, “…I should have stopped it…done something...like thrown myself over instead...It would have been better.”

“Arthur…” Lewis tries, raising his voice to cut over his muttering, “You know I’d be upset if you fell right?”

Arthur’s attention snaps to him, pained, “No…no you wouldn’t. You and Vivi have each other. You wouldn’t even notice I were gone.”

“What?” Is Lewis intelligent response.

“I just get in your way all the time,” Arthur struggles to sit upright, pushing Vivi’s hand away when she tries to help. Lewis lets him up, feeling very off-balance.

“Whenever you’re having fun, I’m there, ruining things.”

“Since when…What are you…” Vivi starts, voice cracking, visibly upset at the admission. She cycles through concern, grief and worry before arriving on something more akin to anger.

“Why would you think that!”

Lewis winces at her outburst.

“Even since you guys started ‘officially’ dating you hardly talk to me,” Arthur snaps, matching Vivi’s fervour despite his shaking voice, “And that’s fine. I get it. I wouldn’t want to talk to me either. But if you don’t want me around at least tell me.”

“But we do want you around!”

“NO. You don’t! You’ve been avoiding me all week! I can take a hint!”

“I thought you wanted space! We were giving you space!" Vivi retorts, wringing her hands together in frustration.

Arthur responds with a half-hearted glare, "You were whispering about me behind my back." Both their voices bounce around the large cavern, making them doubly loud.

"We were trying to figure out why you were so upset. Maybe, instead of sulking, tell us when you have a problem.”

“And what am I supposed to say, ‘hey guys I’m jealous because you love each other more than me.’ Because that’s a normal thing to be sad about.”

“You know, for a smart guy, you really are an idiot…I love you just as much as Lewis. We’ve known each other since kindergarten. We’re practically dating already!”

Arthur freezes, mouth open like he wants to continue arguing. In the sudden silence, Lewis seizes the opportunity to speak, his voice sounding very quiet when compared to Vivi and Arthur.

“If you had died…I don’t know what I would have done. I love…you…too. The both of you.” The phrase sounds extra corny spoken out loud, but it’s 100% true and someone needs to say it. Funny, how it has taken all this insane nonsense for Lewis to fully realise it.

Arthur’s attention jumps to him, wide-eyed. “You’re lying,” He croaks.

“I’m not,” he says with 100% certainty.

“It’s possible to love more than one person at once,” Vivi continues, less heated now. “No,” she holds up a hand to stop any further objections, “Don’t argue with me. It’s the truth.”

“We thought we were annoying you. Whenever Vivi and I hang around, you seemed annoyed,” Lewis explains, “…I guess we were wrong.”

“Yeah…I mean…I like my personal space…but I also like it when you guys pester me a little….” Arthur trails off, glancing between them, flushing. Lewis, ignoring how they are all covered in dirt, shuffles in close, scooping both Arthur and Vivi up into a hug. It feels good to hold them both after almost losing one. Vivi is quick to return the gesture, squeezing him back so Arthur is wedged between them. For several peaceful moments, they all sit simply existing together, the last of the night’s adrenalin fading. Even Arthur starts to relax, loosening from his fear-induced stiffness. Eventually, his shivering and shaking begin to die down at well.

/I hate to interrupt, but I believe one of you needs medical attention./ Mystery’s voice breaks the calm, sounding both amused and exasperated. Right, Vivi’s not-a-dog is still sitting in the corner watching them. Lewis doesn’t care, he could stay like this forever if needed.

Vivi pulls away first, glancing to the green orb, “Yeah. Right. We need to get your shoulder looked at by an actual medical professional. We also need to deal with the demon marble.” She finishes tying her scarf to Arthur’s arm, securing it for the trip.

/I will carry it for now. None of you should touch it./

A nod towards Mystery and Vivi stands, trying to wipe dirt off her skirt and getting more on it instead. She makes a face, looking down to Arthur, “We’ll figure something out…All three of us…Together. What do you say?”

“Once we’re somewhere that’s not an evil infested cave,” he adds.

“Ye..yeah. I’d like that.” Arthur gives a small smile, which undoes some of the tension weighing on Lewis’s shoulders. They're going to be okay. He breaths out in a long exhale. Sure, there is a lot of stuff to process, like the fact monsters were real, but he can leave that all for later.

Before Arthur can protest, Lewis reaches under him to scoop him up.

“Hey,” Arthur makes a small noise of alarm, “My legs are fine.”

Lewis laughs. “I know.” The flush he gets makes the action worth it. Carefully, he rocks back onto his heels so he can stand without jostling him too much. Vivi hovers, checking over Arthur’s arm one last time before giving them both a relieved smile.

As he walks back up the dimly lit stone tunnel, he hears Vivi ask suspiciously, “So…Have you always been a Kitsune? Does dad know about this?”

#msaholidayspirts2019 #mystery skulls animated #MSA #Lewis pepper #arthur kingsmen #Vivi Yukino #Mystery the dog #everyone lives #fix-it fic #lewvithur #pre-slash #fluff #sort of fluff?#it's closer to hurt/comfort #mild descriptions of voilence #possession #but everything works out #happy holidays #msaholidayspirits2019

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calleo-bricriu · 4 years

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Quid Pro Quo

(( Continuation of this ask. @thegreatestminister))

(This one has been strangely charmed with several layers of interlocking, stubborn, difficult to remove warding. The Minister, of course, will be able to read and reply. To anyone else, it will simply look like scratch paper.) Since the director decided to do a bit of gossip as though I either can't see it or won't be made aware of it, /are/ you one of those sorts who's open to a quid pro quo arrangement? Nothing, as Director Yandle stated, illegal, of course.

(Cornelius isn’t sure what Calleo means at first. What sort of services were they to exchange? There’s nothing he can think of that he needs from the other wizard, apart from maybe…)

“In exchange for you no longer telling me how to do my job, what are you looking for? “

(He chooses to deliver the note in person to save the slow passing and forwards backward.)

Calleo, instead of an answer, blinked owlishly a few times. He'd expected another memo in return because that's how memos work; having the response that was written by the person in the room who had also essentially read the contents of the memo aloud managed to briefly stun him.

The Minister.

Of course.

These sorts of talks always ran long; Calleo removed his glasses and let them drop. Hanging from the ends of a string of differently sized, multi-shades-of-blue, they almost had the appearance of being a statement piece, which was really only a nicer way of saying tacky.

"Tempting, but that isn't what I want." Calleo grinned and folded his arms on the desk, leaning forward to rest his chin on them. "There's an Auror that's been in Magical Law Enforcement for several decades."

"We had an--" he paused to consider how to word it, "--altercation during the First War; it's in my records and it was ruled self defence."

"The problem is that she still maintains, to a paranoid level, that I'm somehow dangerous or a 'Death Eater in disguise', which I'm not, just so we're clear--like my left forearm is."

"And do you have a guess as to what that makes her do?" Calleo hand now sunk his face down a bit, leaving his voice slightly muffled by the rainbow coloured, thick (and obviously Muggle made), wool sweater.

"Rhetorical. She'll use her position to assign a Hit Wizard to trail me for anything from a day or two to sometimes months at a time. She never gets her evidence because it's never existed; I don't so much mind the Hit Wizard ( @legilimens-corvus-frugilegus ) that always volunteers for what amounts to a paid holiday. He's great, we hit some of the lesser known hole-in-the-wall places in Knockturn and set up people who have active warrants."

"Anyway," the word stretched out along with Calleo's arms before he briefly appeared to be moving to sit like a normal adult. Instead, he kicked his feet, bumblebee slippers an all, up onto the desk and tilted his chair back. "That's a complete waste of Ministry resources. It may not be much in monetary cost, but it takes one Auror's focus off of her job and one Hit Wizard off the list of people being available to do anything else but babysit me."

"Oh!" He snapped his fingers, "And I nearly forgot! The Werewolf Registry somehow managed to get an order that barred me from publishing tested theory to fact on how magical warding reads them as humans and not beasts or animals. Didn't stop me from having it published outside of the UK but if you could make that nasty little bit of censorship disappear, it would be appreciated."

"What do you want to make that happen and remain permanent as long as you manage to hold onto the position of Minister?"

"To give you a place to start, I'm not about to stop wearing the cardigans and bee slippers. It's cold down here and I'm not about to start any kind of fire with so much paper in the room, and I'll keep the majority of my criticisms on Magical Law Enforcement, but I won't be silent."

Calleo stretched again, this time grabbing the back of the chair, "Never mind what I'm doing, I sit in the worst possible positions most of the day. Now, where was I?"

"Oh, right! I'm also not willing to pretend that there isn't solid, validated, and vetted evidence that Voldemort is not actually dead, that werewolves aren't human, and that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement doesn't need to do some purging in its ranks."

#hp rp #ministry of magic #either 1993 or 1994 I forget which #private

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dearericbittle · 4 years

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Sterek masterpost

So, now that I’ve written 30 (!) Sterek fics, I figured it was about time that I made a masterpost of my stories. You can find the full list on my Tumblr as well!

Been here before and it just feels right (strangers tonight) - (T, 3.4k) Summary: Derek Hale was an awkward teenager, but he grew into himself. He grew out of that pulling pigtails phase. Shame that being reunited with his old crush brings it all back. Even worse: Stiles doesn’t even seem to recognize him. Or does he?

Better that I break the window (than miss what I should see) - (M, 9k) Summary: Someone opened Stiles’ window. But he’s all the way on the 7th floor - how the fuck did that happen? Spoiler alert: werewolves are real. And really hot.

Bring on the monsters (bring on the real world) - (E, 11.1k) Summary: He was supposed to be making an impression on Lydia, but instead he’s making fun of a terrible werewolf costume. To be fair, those mutton chops remind him of Michael J. Fox in the worst way, and the guy didn’t appear to be too offended. He was too busy smelling Stiles for some reason. He really shouldn’t have forgotten cologne.

but that’s just a first impression (I could be totally wrong) - (T, 2.9k) Summary: Derek is on a really awful blind date (Laura will pay for this). But the waiter is really cute.

The coolest wolf in the whole wide world - (T, 8.3k) Summary: Stiles is surprisingly good at being a wolf. Like, super good at control, loves the drama of making weird entrances, and determined to try all the things. Because he has to find out what’s different about being a wolf. And Derek is going to be his Yoda, whether he wants to or not. Only Stiles is pretty sure Yoda never smelled this good.

Detective Stiles Stilinski and the Case of Derek Hale’s Mysterious Mate - (T, 5.6k) Summary: Mates are a thing. A werewolf thing. Which is fine and shit, but finding out that Derek fucking Hale has a mate? That gets to him. And seeing as Derek won’t tell him who it is, well… Guess that means this is a job for Detective Stiles Stilinski - if he’s not too distracted by his traditional banter with Derek.

Everything mixed up (and baked in a beautiful pie) - (T, 6/6, 42k) Summary: Stiles’ friends are more of a pain in the ass than usual around the holiday season. Just because he spends all of his time at his bakery, doesn’t mean he’s unhappy. So hiring a fake boyfriend seems like the perfect, simple solution. Instead Stiles stumbles onto a stupid quest to make Derek Hale happy. But surely that will all work out in time.

Fit hot guys have problems too (don’t objectify us with your male and female gaze) - (T, 1.7k) Summary: To Cora, 1:24 AM: im tired of guys just wanting to hook up with me. im like, guys, i know im pretty and i have a slammin bod and i love making out, but cant someone treat me with respect?? Derek is tired of being objectified. Enter Stiles Stilinski, hot mess who has an opinion about everything. Derek is surprisingly intrigued.

Gymnophoria - (T, 0.9k) Summary: Stiles is paranoid - he keeps feeling someone’s eyes on him. Surprisingly, no nefarious plans happen.

He got lost in my DMs (wanna be way more than friends) - (T, 2.8k) Summary: Derek is somewhat of an online hero, providing candid pictures of himself to anyone who wants persistent suitors to just go away already. Stiles… is suddenly surrounded by assholes who apparently really want to hear about how great his fake boyfriend is. Part 1 of Slide into those DMs

Heard you were tough (but you don’t look it) - (T, 3.6k) Summary: Derek is a protective Alpha, and whenever he sees a human in danger, he has to step in. Usually people are grateful. This guy? Not so much. 3 times Derek saves that ungrateful magic user’s life, and 3 times the ungrateful asshole saved his in return

Here we are two strangers (with nothing but this little spark) - (T, 6k) Summary: Stiles is only at this masquerade party for revenge. Theo Raeken has taken everything from him, and this is the only way he can get close enough to ruin his fucking life. He gets sidetracked by a mysterious stranger who’s looking for revenge of his own. Maybe they can help each other…

I might never be (your knight in shining armor) - (T, 2.9k) Summary: So, in Stiles’ defence, he didn’t actually know that the woman harassing the dude-sel in distress was an actual witch. Or that the dude in question was an Alpha werewolf who claimed to be able to handle himself. Stiles agrees to disagree on that one.

I take this magnetic force of a man (to be my lover) - (T, 6k) Summary: Derek is pretty happy with the mate he’s somehow chosen, even though Stiles has no idea - and no interest in Derek. But that’s fine. Except Peter just has to open his big mouth, because he clearly wants to ruin Derek’s life. Part 2 of Laura Hale is the best Alpha

I’d be a fearless leader (I’d be an Alpha type) - (T, 7.8k) Summary: Most teenagers would run off if they found a bleeding half-wolf, half-lady with red eyes snarling at them. But Stiles’ fight or flight response has always been a little fucked, and Laura Hale looks like she could use a break. Part 1 of Laura Hale is the best Alpha

I’m gonna light a spark (gonna hold my breath until the morning) - (T, 2.5k) Summary: Derek hates the bus, hates how people use it as an excuse to sit close to him and bat their eyelashes at him. And then this stranger who smells like home just falls asleep on his lap.

Lie under different stars (I’ve not seen you in the flesh for so long) - (T, 3,4k) Summary: In which Laura Hale is a queen of holding on to childhood mementos and seeing things her brother won’t, and Derek Hale rediscovers his love of Mischief.

The man who’s gonna marry you (make you feel alive) - (T, 4.2k) Summary: Only Finstock could marry the wrong people. Only Greenberg could fill out the papers wrong, but Finstock didn’t even check. It was like he wanted Stiles to be married to Derek Hale. And no one would want that, except maybe… Stiles.

No more dark sad lonely (k)nights - (T, 2k) Summary: Derek is an Alpha without an emissary, so his nosy betas made sure he attended the convention. Stiles is clearly in the wrong convention hall, because his Batman cosplay does not appear to be going over well.

Old you in the garbage (new you in display case) - (T, 13.4k) Summary: Stiles is lonely and desperate and suffering from a crush on the grumpiest librarian. So what’s a boy to do but cook up a ridiculous plan to get himself dated and/or finally get laid before the holidays? He just wants his She’s All That moment, okay? He never expected that the plan would actually help him get the guy.

Real life isn’t a movie (life doesn’t make narrative sense) - (M, 11.6k) Summary: Somehow accidentally insulting a hot guy in a coffee shop leads to pretending to be his boyfriend in front of a house full of werewolves. Stiles Stilinski is living his best life and making the most of his Hallmark movie moment.

Shoot your shot when you see em (he’s already in my DMs) - (T, 3.9k) Summary: Derek may or may not be falling in love with one of Laura’s employees, and he’s only ever spoken to him on the phone. Stiles doesn’t even know his name! But apparently, he does know how to slide into his DMs. Part 2 of Slide into those DMs

Some Cupid kills with arrows (some with mistletoe) - (T, 9.5k) Summary: It’s the same thing every time. Derek Hale comes home, the town is in a snit, and Stiles Stilinski polishes his metaphorical armor and gets ready for a battle of wits. Not that he considers Derek’s comments particularly witty. Their friends are just tired of the sexual tension and the rampant egos, and they’re ready to do something about it.

Such great heights (corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces) - (T, 3.3k) Summary: In which everyone in the pack is together and alive, because fuck canon. In which Stiles is surprised that Derek’s super hearing fails him. He just wants to know how tall Derek is, why is that such a big deal?

Teach me how to thrive (i was a loser just like you) - (T, 4.9k) Summary: Scott was cool now - the Squip had made sure of that. Stiles? Not so cool. All he has left are his cryptic conversations with perpetually wasted Derek Hale as he desperately tries to get an evil computer chip from taking over Beacon Hills.

We were young once (innocent and fun once) - (T, 5,3k) Summary: So maybe making Lydia jealous is just an excuse for him to finally talk to Derek Hale - it’s been ten years and clearly that high school crush is not over. There’s just a lot more to Derek than he was expecting.

We’ll put on a show (Scotty has to know) - (T, 7.7k) Summary: Stiles is a stubborn asshole, determined to have fun in Europe even though Scott stays behind in Belgium because of a girl. So asking a stranger to make out with him for the ‘Gram? Totally the best decision he’s ever made, and not just because that’ll totally show Jackson (and Scott!). Shame he won’t see the guy again, though.

What it looks like to forget (it’s easier that way) - (T, 4.9k) Summary: He has no idea who he is, but the stranger with the whiskey eyes is calling him Derek. And the guy has been sitting at his bedside for three days, so he’s got some credit. Especially because the guy smells like he should be his - though that is a supremely weird thought that he probably needs to figure out first.

You want forgiveness (I’ll give that to you) - (T, 2.8k) Summary: Derek is running from the Alpha, suffering from wolfsbane poisoning and he’s clearly losing it. Why else would he be seeing his mother - and everyone else he might as well have killed himself. But Stiles can’t just let him get what he deserves. Stiles never leaves him behind, even when he should.

You’re moving me around you (I said darling hold me) - (T, 14,5k) Summary: Derek is the only beta in a pack of two, blaming himself for the loss of their entire family. When his sister pays someone to get him used to human contact again, Derek preps himself for a couple unwilling handshakes before he kicks the stranger out of his den. Stiles is… not what Derek expected.

#sterek #sterek fanfiction #masterpost #all the fic

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