#but i got one present. while i spent hundreds of dollars getting my family gifts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweeetcreatvre · 3 years

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God-Sent Angel

“I lied to you, Harry.” You looked up at him waiting for an answer and hoping he doesn’t get too upset with you.

a/n: i’ve been in a mood!! these last few days. i haven’t written in forever, but this idea popped into my head and the words just floated onto the page. i hope you guys like it! i am a very small page still, so if you see this if you could like, repost, and consider following i will love you forever. thank you for reading 🤍

pairing: harry x reader

warnings: explicit talk of mental/emotional abuse, please don’t read if you can’t handle it. this was heavily based off of my experience with my parents. this is not meant to try and romanticize abuse in any way, and please don’t take it like that. abuse is not fun, there’s no good side to it. a little angsty? fluff

word count: ~2.6k

•••

You met Harry when Sarah and Mitch introduced the two of you a little over a year ago. Sarah’s your best friend, you’ve known her since uni, and she’d convinced you to meet Harry by telling you that it would just make it easier for the two of you to hang out if they didn’t have to split their time between you and Harry and you all just hung out together.

You immediately took a liking to Harry. Because of your horrid anxiety and how awkward it made you, you usually hold back until you know people a little better, but something about Harry put you at such ease with him.

You hung out a couple times alone as “friends”, but both realized it was more than that when you declined Sarah and Mitch’s offer to go out because you already had a date with chinese take out and a line up of rom-coms you’d planned to watch for the night.

You and Harry bonded over cheesy movies. With his busy schedule and how difficult it is for him to go in public, you would watch movies at one of your homes and then reenact the scenes with him.

Things with Harry were easy, he made you happy, and he put you at ease.

•••

You went home to Manchester with Harry one day and truly had the best time. You loved how much his family cared for each other, and how they interacted.

That night, as you were laying on his chest in Anne’s guest room bed, you spoke the words that had been in your head all night, “I hope our family is like yours one day.” You didn’t really plan on saying it, the words just kind of came out.

You were worried you’d scared Harry by being so open about kids with him. You were serious obviously, having met his family and everything, but you hadn’t really talked about kids yet.

He still hadn’t talked causing you to look up at him and sit up a little. “I mean, not that we’re having kids or anything anytime soon, I just thought maybe one day, or not, That’s fine too.” You let it all back in one breath wishing you would’ve kept your mouth shut.

He pulled you back to his chest and kissed the top of your forehead before whispering, “(y/n), I want nothing more than to have a family with you one day. I love you, and I plan on keeping you around for as long as you’ll let me.”

You smile into his chest and place a soft kiss there. “I love you too,” your voice is muffled by his chest.

•••

After you met Anne and Gemma, Harry kept begging you to introduce him to your family. For a while you were able to put it off, saying they were in America, which is true, but not the reason you won’t let him meet them.

Your parents were... difficult. They never hit you growing up, not enough to leave any marks at least, but they yelled, and got angry, and got drunk, and got manipulative. Because they never hit you, it took you a long time to accept what they were doing was abuse.

When you turned 18 you applied to colleges abroad and got accepted into a university in England, you haven’t looked back since. Your parents were always the thing holding you back in life, so 3 years later, when your little brother turned 18 and moved out of the house, you cut off all communication with them. You still talk to your siblings, them being the only thing that kept you sane. You talked to them almost daily, and sometimes you’d even go visit them. Your oldest sister came to England a few times, her being the only one you fully trusted to not tell your parents where you lived.

But telling all of that to Harry was not something you were interested in. It was too much baggage, and no one ever understood how you could just cut off the people who raised you. It was always “They’re your parents, they love you, give them a second chance.” and you’re tired of hearing how you’re hurting them when they hurt you for 18 years.

So you made up excuses as to why he couldn’t meet them for as long as possible.

You spent your first Christmas together at Anne’s saying you couldn’t afford to go home, and you refused to take the money Harry offered to buy you a ticket.

That summer you compromised with him and your older sister came to stay with you.

Harry loved your sister. He said you act so similar, and he loves seeing you so happy. Your sister brings out a different side of you, and Harry adored it.

That also meant he just wanted to see more of your family.

•••

Harry had never spent a Christmas away from his family, and you didn’t want to spend Christmas away from him, so you were hoping that was enough for him to accept you not going home.

As you walked into Harry’s home after work he calls out to you “I’m in the kitchen, love!”

You walk into the kitchen and immediately your senses get filled with a pleasant smell. As you walk in, he turns from the stove to give you a kiss, but he holds you in his arms as you pull away from each other.

“Hi, baby,” you half-whisper half-laugh out to him.

“I missed you today,” he began pressing more kisses to your jaw then down your neck, but they were slow and sweet.

Your arms around his neck, you play with the hair at the nape of his neck, loving that it’s growing long again, the curls tangling in your fingers.

“What’s for dinner it smells delicious?” you ask him as he’s still kissing at your neck.

“You smell delicious, I’ll have you,” he mumbles in between kisses, but then his kisses picked up a faster pace and got more toothy.

You laugh at him and then gasp as he’s biting at your skin then soothing it with his tongue. However, you push him away because you’re starved, only having a small lunch because you had a busy day. “Baby, I’d love to but I’m starved, feed me first.”

He laughs at you then turns back to the stove. He lifts the lid on the soup pot so you were able to look inside. “I made your favorite, figured it would be nice for the snowy day it is.”

You smile at him, he never fails to make you so happy by doing simple things for you.

Your whole life you struggled with feeling like your presence was too much. Always calming yourself down so you were never too excited or too sad or asking for too much.

Harry never made you feel like that though. He went above and beyond for you time after time and you loved that about him. He’d never take your praises for it either. “‘s no big deal, just wanted to remind you how much I love you,” he would say, but to you that was a huge deal.

After you eat you clean up the dishes together and you’re ready to cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie with him, but Harry has other plans for the evening.

“I have an early Christmas present for you,” he says after coming back from his bedroom where he disappeared for a few minutes.

“Harry..” you started, but he silenced you with his finger pressing to your lips.

“It’s for both of us really, and it can’t wait until Christmas, so you have to open it now,” he places a small wrapped box in front of you, “go on.”

You hesitantly untie the bow holding the top to the bow then take the lid off. Inside there’s two pieces of paper, two plane tickets. You read the information on the tickets and see that they’re round trip from the 22nd to the 26th and they’re to Indianapolis airport. AKA Harry has planned a trip for the two of you to go home together for Christmas so he can meet the rest of your family. Shit.

You stare at the tickets in disbelief, then at him, then back to the tickets. “H..” you start but you trail off, not even knowing what to do about this. He spent hundreds of dollars on you to meet your family, and gave up Christmas with his own too, and there’s no way you’re going.

He seems to pick up on the fact that you’ve been awfully silent. “Ya gonna say anything?” he asks carefully. You can hear in his voice that he’s afraid he’s messed up, but he’s trying to hide it with a smile and joke. He’s being so hesitant with you, scared to make a move or say anything.

You look up at him with shiny eyes, tears threatening to fall over. You were gonna say something now, but before you could Harry started again.

“Oh, God, I messed up didn’t I? I- I shouldn’t have done all this planning without even asking you. I shouldn’t have just invited myself home with you. You know what, it’s fine I don’t care about my ticket, you can go by yourself, I’ll stay here. You never see your family, I mean I should’ve known you would want to be alone with them. You go, I’ll stay here, I don’t care, just please stop looking at me like that or I swear to God I’ll start crying too. You’re the only thing I’ve ever been this scared to lose, I don’t care what you need. Take it, take it all.” The whole thing is rushed out and you can tell he’s freaking out.

You grab his hand, still in your place on the couch and he’s standing in front of you. You intertwine your fingers, “Can you sit down?” you whisper softy to him. He looks at you for a moment before moving to sit next to you, but you’re both turned sideways so you’re still facing each other.

“You can tell me if you don’t want me to come I won’t be upset.” He sounds so heartbroken by the idea that he’s scaring you off and it’s killing you.

“No, H, no, baby. I don’t want you going, but I’m also not going to go. It’s not the gift I love it, and I love that you always try to buy me the most personalized gift, but I just- I can’t go home.”

“I don’t understand. Your family is there, you- you should go be with them for Christmas.”

Staring at your hands in your lap you think of how you’re going to tell him this. “I lied to you, Harry.” You looked up at him waiting for an answer and hoping he doesn’t get too upset with you.

“What?” He’s not mad, just more confused.

“You haven’t met my family because I don’t talk to them anymore. My parents, I mean. I obviously talk to my siblings, you know i talk to them, but not my parents. I haven’t spoken to them in 4 years, and I intend to keep it that way.” A few tears have slipped down your face and your voice keeps breaking.

“Can I ask why?” His hand comes to rest on your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

“They were abusive,” you barely whisper the words and Harry has you in his arms immediately his chin rests on the top of your head, and with shaky breath you cry into his chest, holding tightly around his waist feeling so vulnerable and exposed right now. You’re sitting sideways in his lap, one of his hands is on your back, the other on your waist and his thumb is rubbing back and forth on the small bit of exposed skin above your pants where your shirt has ridden up.

When your breathing has gotten a little more normal, you look up at him and he places a kiss on your forehead. “They weren’t physical, but the screamed.. a lot” your voice sounded weak, but it wasn’t as shaky.

“You don’t have to tell me. If you don’t want to, I mean. I believe you.” You shake your head.

“I want to tell you.” You felt so bad for lying to him for so long. “It wasn’t ever bad until I was like 11 or 12. My sister says she believes it’s just because she took a lot of the heat.” You have 2 older sisters, Charlotte and Sarah, they’re 9 and 11 years older than you. Your oldest sister was the target of a lot of their stunts. “She moved out when I was 8, Sarah when I was 9, and we had a couple good years. Then we moved in with my grandma, and shit hit the fan.”

“I struggled with the workload of my classes, and they didn’t like that, said it made them look bad. My dad would get mad and yell, he even told me he hated me once. My mom checked on them obsessively, and I’d get angry messages about how bad I’m doing during the school day.”

“When my grandma got super sick, everything got ten times worse. She was my rock and I saw her declining everyday from January-August. My dad continued to be up my ass about grades, while also drinking ridiculous amounts. My mom fell into what I think was a depressive episode, and would come home late and say things like ‘I didn’t come home because no body values me here anyways’ but not in a way that was sad, she’d be angry about it and yell about it to us.”

“After she died I had to learn to live without her, and I had no clue just how much she was keeping us together. The next 3 years was constant screaming and manipulation. My grades slipped a little, and they hated that I wasn’t their perfect little prodigy who just pranced around knowing everything anymore. They made me feel so worthless, and like my entire existence was a burden. I was too loud, and too talkative, and too lazy, but not smart enough, and I didn’t work hard enough, and I had no pride in the things I did.” You paused for a minute.

“You’re the only person that’s ever made me feel like I’m not too much or too little.” You whisper out the confession to him knowing that it is how you truly feel about him. “I moved here when I was 18, and cut off all ties with them when Carson turned 18. 3 years later. I’m the only one of us to actually do it, but I’m just so much happier without them in my life.”

“I’m convinced you’re an angel,” His voice cracks and you look up to him to notice he’s shed tear or two and more are threatening to slip out, “sent for me, straight from the gods, because I don’t think any human is as amazing as you. I don’t have any idea what I did to deserve and angel like you, but I’m never letting you go. I love you, and I love that you’ll cry in my arms and how open you are with me. You really are a god-sent fucking angel.” He’s cupping your face in his large hand now. “We won’t go to the States for Christmas. We’ll go to Manchester, and we’ll spend it with my mom and sister.”

“I’m sorry we’re not going, I know how bad you wanted to meet them.”

“No, baby, it’s ok. We’ll spend all the Christmases here, and one day we’ll host Christmas. With our family that will be just like mine, like you said you wanted the first time you met Mom and Gem. You’re gonna be so happy, that’s my life mission, to make my heavenly angel happy.”

“I am happy, H. Right here, with you.”

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fandom #harry styles fanfiction

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vergess · 3 years

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@autismserenity said: Your tags are the most American thing I’ve ever read, we are truly so screwed here

May I interest you in a more complete, and more excruciating, explanation of what I spent the last 18 months doing?

It is, I need to emphasize, fucking nasty. Don’t feel obligated, especiallly if you’ve already had A Day(tm).

There’s a lot of disease, a lot of worker abuse including sexual and racial abuse, a fine portion of letting people die for not being white enough for real medical care, all leading to homelessness.

For NDA reasons, because my former employer was just as vile as any tech company has ever been, I cannot be super specific about who I worked for. However, I can say that we handled the records and patient contact for all COVID testing for several states, as well as 2 of the 5 largest metros in the US, and several dozen smaller ones ranging from the approximate population of San Francisco, down to little towns, as well as the testing for several public school systems and at least two government agencies that I am not at liberty to disclose.

I tell you this for a sense of scale. When I say shit like, “my boss was more than happy to let thousands or hundreds of thousands die” I am not exagerrating for effect. We handled hundreds of thousands of tests a week.

Again, I need to emphasize, government agencies. Ones you would know if I named them. Ones everyone in the country knows.

And we were in charge of getting their test results from the already over swamped labs back to the patients, who often were not allowed to quarantine while awaiting results.

The fastest we got our turnaround time to on any consistent basis was about 30 hours. Often it ballooned well into weeks.

There were a number of factors for this, but the big one was always understaffing.

The staff we did have were treated like trash. One of the big selling points of this company is how “trans friendly” it is to work there. That is a lie. Every trans employee on payroll had their dead name displayed to all other staff, and until I personally changed the system setup on my arrival, patient facing trans people’s dead names were displayed to patients.

Remember that thing about “hundreds of thousands of tests a week”?

I was able to change the way patient-facing names were displayed. I was not allowed or able to alter the way internal systems displayed trans people’s names. But I was assured that it’s fine, because once you get a legal name change, you’ll be given new system accounts with your new name!

Your old accounts with your dead name would still be displayed and associated with the new ones though.

This is the “trans friendly” working environment. We were allowed to be out of the closet, as long as we were willing to put up with that. And any attempts to get it altered were the result of those nasty little transgender ingrates not being thankful enough.

Meaning that by asking to use our own fucking names we were already in the disciplinary shitter.

Another big selling point is the ~racial diversity~. The CEO was a man of colour, and so were like four other people on staff!! Wow!!!!!!!

This, too, was laughable.

Once numbers started coming in about the care gap for COVID between English and Spanish speakers, and our Southwestern US service area began to have a separate and brutal backlog just of Spanish speaking patients, my employer encouraged me to interview potential hires who speak spanish.

Fair enough! We all wanted to do our part to help close the already massive mortality gap.

So, I found candidates, did interviews, hired them, trained them, etc. But I don’t speak Spanish. As a result, I appointed 2 assistant managers who do speak Spanish to assist me in managing, you know, like the job name.

So when my super contacted them directly, completely skipping me on the chain of command, and told them to stop all of our Spanish speakers from translating helpful simple messages to send to patients, and instead start translating medical and legal documents, they very reasonably assumed I was in the know and went ahead with it.

TO BE CLEAR, that could have ended my life, theirs, basically everyone involved. Everyone in the company would have been completely fucked. At that point, my subordinates, the people for whom I am wholly responsible, were doing everything from practicing medicine without licenses, to encouraging spanish speaking patients to enter contracts that no one on the fucking executive tier could even read.

The moment I found that out, I and the A.M.s immediately started trying to get actual medical translation services to do our documents. We collected them in a neat folder. We queried translation services. We got quotes. We contacted my super and the CEO, about this over and over again for months. In the late autumn, we received approval for one of the translation services.

The CEO decided at the last minute that having people with no medical or legal training draft medical and legal forms was fine and good actually, and refused to sign the contract or send the documents for translation.

The excuse I received was that the COVID emergency HIPAA relaxations would protect us.

That’s not how that works.

Throughout all of this, Spanish speaking employees were told to either keep doing medical and legal translation work, or lose their jobs.

Oh, did I mention everyone was working between 30 and 80 hours a week, and all of us were marked as “contractors” so the employer could tax evade? Don’t worry, we filed complaints with the labour bureau.

So the entire department was let go, and “rehired” as temps through a temp agency, which because it was a temp agency could keep them marked as contractors regardless of the facts.

This change was presented to all of us, myself included, as the company getting a new accountant to handle payroll.

So if you’re keeping score, we’ve covered racism, queerphobia, medical negligence, fraud, and a frankly uncountable number of deaths.

Let’s talk about the sheer negligence towards employees ourselves. If you’ve worked in near-death medical care before, or any number of emergency services really, you know that the standard benefit suite includes either a dedicated therapist for your staff, or access to peer support groups with other emergency and medical servants through your employer’s benefits program.

Do you know what our mental health benefits were for this company?

The CEO got on a fucking zoom call with us all one (1) time, and said that if we were feeling suicidal or traumatized by the work, to talk to him about it, and he would be our therapist.

Do you know how many people per fucking day we had to contact only to be told they had already died because our understaffing delays killed them? He doesn’t. He never listened when we told him.

But let me put the cherry on the “Oh baby, you can talk to me, oooh” sundae.

Anyone who “looked” or “sounded” female, regardless of actual or assigned gender, was subject to constant flirtations and slimy, overly personal compliments about our appearances. Fortunately, at 3 levels removed from the CEO (Executives > Department heads > Managers > Employees), most of the people under my management had relatively little contact with him.

I was not nearly so lucky.

The CEO of this company has a watersports (urination) fetish. I know this, because he told me so and attempted to get me to join him in it. I have no idea how many other people in the company he did this to. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do, risk losing my job to find out? I have a fucking family to support, people.

Not that it mattered.

Eventually, all of these abuses became too much for my subordinates. Productivity fell off a cliff. Delays were getting worse and worse. In a medical emergency like this, delays=deaths.

So, like a fucking idiot, when the department heads reached out to me to ask what they could do to improve productivity, I shot down their frankly insulting suggestion of raffling a $20 amazon gift card to patient facing employees, and instead suggested a very simple, “enroll us with a peer support group, every single person in this department has PTSD from working in this pandemic.”

They were confused by my assertion of PTSD. I was asked to compile a document of complaints, concerns, and weaknesses in our patient facing services.

I and the A.M.s did so. It was roughly 40 pages long, with each page given a known problem, the reasons why it was a problem, and some potential solutions that might inspire further solutions or be able to be implemented. We submitted it. There was no response.

A week passed.

I had been working 80 hour weeks for most of a year. I hadn’t even been able to take weekends. I took my first sick day, in a company with “unlimited vacation days.”

I received a call at 3PM.

I had been fired for “differences in communitcation.” If you’ve ever seen that “Problem Women of Color in the workplace” chart? Yeah.

So had most of my department, including every transgender member of the department, and several of our extremely limited in supply Spanish speakers, who were presumed to be “on my side.”

Some of them, I barely even knew beyond the formalities of the job, and they were punished anyway.

I lost my insurance, and as a result I lost access to my medications.

But the real problem? I lost my house. And not due to lack of payment.

I lost my house, because when I got the job we waited 6 months for stability’s sake, and then readied to move out of the area. I got a mortgage on the basis of my employer’s written guarantee to the bank that I would continue to be employed for the next year at a minimum.

With the mortgage approval in hand, we entered a sales contract on our existing home.

We got and accepted an offer just days before I was fired. To keep our house meant paying a 25,000 dollar broken contract fine. We didn’t have that. We had a 10% down payment for a modest fucking place in a cheaper area, which is less than half that.

But without a job, my mortgage approval was also voided, meaning we couldn’t buy a house either.

All of a sudden, we were homeless during the plague, because my employer wrote and signed a letter to a bank guaranteeing my future employ, and then changed his mind when too many people died due to his own negligence.

Oh yeah, one last thing: the job paid less than Pandemic unemployment Assistance.

...After that, well, it’s homelessness until just last month. I... if you’ve never been homeless it’s.

It blurs. Everything is happening constantly, except for all the ways in which you are endlessly, mind breakingly bored. Bored, overloaded, and always uncomfortable.

Obviously my health would have declined regardless. Malnutrition, stress, everything.

But I was also unmedicated.

It was hell. I was in hell. I don’t know if I can recover from it, to be honest.

I bounced back from being homeless as a child. Children are as resilient as they are stupid, and the monstrosity of homelessness was little more than a vaguely remembered loathing and a panicky fear that it would ever happen again.

A child who is dying is worthy of sympathy, even if it is meaningless coos from passers by. If they have family, they may be able to rely on them too.

An adult with the indignity to die homeless and crippled, according to the average passer by, is worthy only of disgust and perhaps even punishment for being such a worthless waste.

My reward for nearly killing myself in a desperate bid to help stem the tide of COVID was the destruction of not only my life, not only my entire family’s lives, but the lives of every single family of every single employee who worked with me.

And you know what’s worse?

Each one of us still did more to limit the lethal impact of COVID than the entire united states government.

It breaks something in you, going through that.

It makes you realize that hope is a fool’s game.

But, I have ever been a fool, and so, I continue to play.

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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show me love | jaehyun

title: show me love pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: fluff request: “I have a fic idea for Valentine's Day 💀 Jaehyun's gf is busy trying to prepare a really sweet bday gift while Jaehyun is busy trying to prepare a really nice Valentine's Day gift for his gf?” word count: 2.2k warnings: alcohol use a/n: writing pure fluff is not as easy as you’d think, but maybe that’s only an issue when you’re emotionally constipated like me...💀 anyway, here’s to the birthday boy. 🌹

You want to be sure Jaehyun’s birthday gift is perfect this year, which is why you spent so much time saving up for it. To you, it often felt a little hard to measure up to all the lavish gifts he gets every year for his birthday from fans, friends, and family members—especially since it’s on Valentine’s Day—but he always claimed that you could get him anything and he’d love it.

You and Jaehyun haven’t met up very frequently this week, partly because you’d both been busy preparing your gifts for each other; you for his birthday, and him for Valentine’s Day. You weren’t too upset about that, though. Being able to see him when the day finally came around would make it even more special after the time spent away from each other.

It’d been a lot harder than you’d anticipated to keep your gift secret, but only because you’re so excited for him to finally know what you’d gotten for him. You’re eager to see his reaction to it and hear what he might say about it. You’re also wondering what he might be planning for you, but you’ve done your very best not to pester him about it too much—even though you really want to.

The day of his birthday, you’re so jittery that you even get up earlier than usual so you can get dressed and make sure your look for the day is perfect. You end up calling Jaehyun while you put your makeup on, not wanting to wait any longer to talk to him. It’s not too early in the day when you call, because you know he won’t like getting up at that hour, but maybe early enough to cause a small complaint.

“Hi Y/N,” he answers after a few seconds, voice a bit deeper than usual—probably because he just got up. You grin at the sound of his voice.

“Good morning! Happy birthday, baby! Did I wake you? I’m sorry, haha.”

“Y/N.” Jaehyun repeats your name and smiles on the other end. You can’t see this, but you can hear his laugh, which is full of happiness at your greeting. “Thank you, sweet girl. It’s fine, I don’t really care, I was gonna get up soon anyway.” You hear the sheets rustling in the background and figure that’s him getting up now. “And of course, Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“The day for lovers, how could I ever forget.” You smirk to yourself, sifting through your makeup bag for a certain highlighter. “By the way, you’re gonna come over today, right? I have something for you,” you tell him in a singsong-y mischievous tone.

“Oh?” Jaehyun perks up at that. “You want me to come over now? Because...I have something for you too, for Valentine’s Day, but it’s here at my place.”

“Ah, really?” You laugh. “Come to my place first, it’s your birthday and you should get your present first.”

“But since it’s my birthday, shouldn’t you come here? Do it for me~”

You almost roll over with laughter. “Aw, Jaehyun! I can’t believe you’re using that cute tone with me, I know you hate aegyo.”

He sighs, and you know he’s probably blushing from embarrassment. “Hmm, okay, okay. Never gonna do that one again. Should we flip a coin on it, then? If I win, you have to come over with whatever your gift is.”

You chuckle. “Flip a coin? You serious?”

“Dead serious. Get on FaceTime.”

“Now?” You snort and look at yourself in the mirror, makeup only half-done.

“You don’t want to? What are you hiding?” Now his voice takes on a sneaky note.

“I’m not hiding anything, but if that’s what you want, then prepare yourself...”

You both hang up and Jaehyun calls you on FaceTime a few seconds later. You smile when you see his face on the other end, still bare from just waking up. One corner of his mouth tugs up in a smirk when he sees you, then he bursts into a full grin, giggling at your half-made-up face.

“Well, that was unexpected.”

“Yes, yes, laugh it up! My own boyfriend clowning me on Valentine’s Day, how sweet of you.” You pout for good measure.

“You laugh at me nearly everyday,” he points out, and you must admit that he’s right. “Anyway, you always look pretty to me.” Then he pulls a hand through his hair in a way that he knows can always make you swoon, and you sigh in defeat.

“...Okay, you’re forgiven.”

You see him rummage around for a moment before the phone straightens again; now he holds a coin between his fingers. “So. What side do you want?”

“I guess heads.”

Jaehyun snickers momentarily before affecting a nonchalant expression again. “Yeah, I’ll take tails then.”

“Stop being dirty-minded,” you complain, rolling your eyes.

“I’m not, Y/N,” he insists, though his tone suggests otherwise. He flips the coin into the air and points the phone camera to where it landed on the ground—heads.

“I won! Now you have to come over,” you cheer.

“Fine, fine.” He shakes his head and laughs. “I’ll be over soon. Wait for me.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere else, now would I?”

Jaehyun arrives at your place a little while later, and he’s a bit starstruck when you open the door. Now with your makeup finished, you’re wearing a red dress with heels to match and your hair is styled prettily, falling over your shoulders. You smile happily at him, pulling at his shoulders to get him to come inside.

“Hi Jaehyun,” you say, closing the door after him and hugging him. He squeezes you back tightly, leaving a kiss on your bare shoulder and breathing in the scent of your hair.

“Y/N. How do you manage to get prettier everyday?”

“Because you love me so much.” You give him a kiss and tug his hand to guide him into the living room. You lead him to sit down on your couch, though you don’t sit next to him just yet. “Okay, before I give you your gift, you gotta close your eyes first.”

“Close my eyes? What is it?” Jaehyun keeps hold of your hand as he asks this, grinning up at you.

“You won’t know until you do what I say, silly!” He relents, although a bit reluctantly, and lets go of your hand so he can close his eyes. You go to get his gift from your bedroom and come back into the living room with it, holding it out in front of him. “Open your eyes now.”

When he does, he sees you holding a small wrapped box. “Why’d I have to close my eyes? I still can’t tell what it is.” He chuckles as he takes it from you. “The suspense is gonna kill me,” he jokes as he begins unwrapping it.

When Jaehyun finally gets the wrapping off and gets the box open, his face softens as he sees what’s inside and takes it in his hand. You clasp your own hands together, your skin warming at his smile. “It might not be what you’re used to in terms of like, luxury, you know...but it looked nice and I thought it’d look good on you.”

“Y/N…you must’ve spent a lot on this,” Jaehyun murmurs, examining the shiny new face of the watch in his hand. He holds it as if it were a rare jewel, turning it on all its sides to examine it. It’s mostly black leather and silver, but it was still more than usual for your budget, costing you a few hundred dollars.

“I did save up for some months...and still had to use a payment plan for it. Good thing we never broke up in that timespan or I woulda been shit outta luck.” Jaehyun snorts and shakes his head at your statement, knowing you’d say something like that to lighten the mood.

“Thank you baby,” he says, sliding his new watch onto his wrist. “You know this means the world to me.” He goes over to the window to see it better in the natural lighting, holding it up to the light to see it sparkle. You go over to him and peek over his shoulder, grinning softly. “I’ll have to pay you back.” You raise your eyebrows.

“What? It’s your birthday present, why would you—”

“You’ll see later,” he says mysteriously, and you give him a curious look. “Meanwhile, we should go somewhere. The day’s still early, so let’s enjoy it.”

“You’re right,” you say, glancing at the new watch once more and then kissing him on the cheek. “Let’s go, then.”

It’s evening by the time you get back to Jaehyun’s place, having already eaten at an upscale restaurant that he’d reserved. You’d had no idea about it, and you were glad you’d taken the initiative to dress up today. Both of you spent the earlier part of the day going out to brunch and then exploring the city for a few hours, which even included taking one of those romantic boat rides that the nearby lake always offers on Valentine’s Day. You thought it would be kind of cheesy at first, but it turned out way more fun than you could imagine.

When you step inside his place, you’re surprised to see everything is decorated pretty lavishly; the overhead lights are dimmed, leaving a bunch of small tea lights as the main illumination. There are rose petals spread everywhere, too, and the sitting room is set up with pillows and blankets and a nice spread of chocolates and wine on the coffee table.

You gasp, studying the surroundings. “How did you arrange all this? We were together all day.”

“Had some help from the guys; they came while we were gone. Hope they didn’t take anything, though...” Jaehyun shrugs as if this whole setup is no big deal, but his dimples poke out from the gleeful smile on his lips. He picks up an unlit candle from the coffee table, and you notice there are a few more spread around. “Now that we’re here, we can light these. Safety first, you know.”

“Of course,” you snicker, taking your jacket and shoes off so you can sit down on one of the pillows. You take up the bottle of wine and inspect the label while Jaehyun finds a lighter for the candles. “Considering that we already drank at the restaurant...don’t be surprised if I’m off my ass by the end of the night.”

“We don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” he suggests, raising one eyebrow.

“Oh no, I want to!” Jaehyun laughs at your enthusiasm as you open the wine and pour a glass for each of you. Once he’s done lighting the candles, he goes into his room. You lean back on the cushion and take your glass in your hand, waiting for him to come back.

Jaehyun returns soon with his blazer discarded and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. “I see you’ve gotten relaxed, too.” You smirk, crossing your legs. “You look so handsome with your new watch. I’m glad I got it for you.”

“Then I think you’ll like this even more.”

“Hmm?” You turn to Jaehyun as he sits on one of the pillows beside you. Your eyes widen when he pulls out a velvet case you didn’t notice before. It’s not a ring case, though, which really would’ve caused you to fall out; it’s the kind you use for bracelets or necklaces. He places it in your hands, and you gingerly take it from him like it might vanish if handled too roughly. “Oh...what is…?”

“You have to open it.” He grins, mimicking your earlier teasing of him with his own gift. You set down your wine glass and open the velvet rectangle to find a delicate necklace lying inside. At the end of it is a small circle with tiny diamonds embedded in it.

“Oh wow...it’s perfect,” you whisper, taking it out of the box and looking it over with enamored eyes. “Is this what you meant by ‘paying me back’? Because, Jesus, this is Cartier. I think you’ve done more than enough.” You smile wistfully and shake your head.

“Let me put it on you,” he says, and you give him the necklace so he can do so. You turn away from him, and you shiver a little at the feeling of his breaths on the back of your neck and his fingertips brushing your skin. You face him again when he’s done fastening it and throw your arms around his neck, hugging him closer to you and smiling against his dimpled cheek.

“I love you, Jaehyun. Thank you so much.”

Jaehyun’s lips curve up at your words, and he tucks his face against you, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your jaw. “I love you, Y/N.”

153 notes · View notes

stereksecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, obsessedbutonline!

For @obsessedbutonline, who listed fluff, angst, and ‘Derek giving Stiles gift’ as a few ‘Likes’. I hope I did those items justice. Hope you have a wonderful Christmas, Friend!

Read On AO3

*****

The Gift

The gift. He supposed it all started with the gift. Or maybe Star Trek. Derek wasn’t sure. It was Stiles, after all. One day, the younger man had been debating the cuddle rating of a Tribble, before diving into an analysis of The Voyage Home being one of the worst movies in franchise history (except for the whales, of course), and the next thing Derek knew, he’d found himself discussing how Moby Dick was one of his favorite books. The random jumps from one topic to another hadn’t been anything new for Stiles, but that had also been the year they’d legitimately gotten ‘together’ after their contentious circling of each other’s orbits, so when Derek had opened an inelegantly wrapped early edition of the novel on that first Christmas as a couple, he’d been rendered speechless.

He couldn’t remember how long he’d stared at the leather-bound copy exactly, but he did recall feeling a bout of inadequacy. He thought he’d hid it well though. “Stiles – “ he’d started. “I wasn’t expecting…This is too much.”

Stiles had shrugged like it hadn’t been a big deal, an eager grin on his face. “Nah, it wasn’t too bad. A classmate mentioned a prof who needed an assistant to help translate some Latin verses, and I thought I’d check it out. When I went, I noticed a copy of Moby Dick in his office, and you’d mentioned it was one of your favorites, so I offered my translation services for free if he would sell the book for a discounted price.”

Of course, Stiles had remembered that weird detail from a throwaway conversation. And of course, he’d been resourceful in procuring it. That was just who Stiles was. Now, Derek, on the other hand… well, he’d felt completely out of his league when he’d pulled out the gift card he’d picked up a day earlier from a comic book store. He hadn’t even known if that was a store Stiles ever visited. He really sucked at gift-giving. “Sorry, I didn’t …”

Stiles had yanked it out of his hands before he’d even finished. “I love it. Thanks, Derek!” The younger man had beamed excitedly, clutching that cheap piece of plastic in his hands as if he’d just received some personal heirloom. There had been no uptick in the man’s heartrate, so there’d been no lie in those words, but that hadn’t stop Derek from feeling bad.

And it was then that he had resolved to do better, that he would be thoughtful and meticulous in his gift selection the next time Christmas rolled around. Stiles deserved as much.

But he’d mentioned he was bad at gift-giving, right? As in, monumentally bad. Because the next Christmas, when they’d settled down on his couch after an intimate holiday dinner he’d prepared for the two of them, Stiles had presented him with a charmingly wrinkled gift bag. And when he’d pulled out a lovingly restored and framed photograph of his family from before the fire, he’d not only felt a slight lump in his throat at the sentiment, he’d also felt remarkably small and completely lacking in comparison. It was a good thing they’d come to a mutual understanding that their birthdays would be a no-gift zone, because Derek wasn’t sure he could’ve handled double the inferiority complex this time of year.

“I found a copy of the photo from the digital archives of the town newspaper. It was for some fundraiser committee your mom chaired, I think. I saved a copy, and googled around for some pointers on how to increase the resolution so I could print out a decent version of it,” Stiles had explained.

Derek had nodded absently, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of his mother’s face under the cool glass. His whole family had stared back at him, carefree and unburdened in the moment that photo had been taken, eyes all shiny from a sunny afternoon picnic. “Yeah, I remember. It was a Pets in the Park fundraiser for the local animal shelter.” There had been an ache in the pit of his stomach at the reminder of everything he’d lost, but it wasn’t as sharp as it had once been. Now, it had been dulled by time, and tempered by the meaningful relationships he’d found, foremost of which was the one with the man beside him. “Thank you,” he’d said slowly, slightly surprised that his voice hadn’t cracked at the pool of emotion swirling within him.

“Anytime, big guy.” Stiles had leaned in, his weight and warmth freely offered as a source of silent strength.

But when he’d pulled out his gift for Stiles, he had had that sinking feeling of failing an important test. He hadn’t even had time to wrap it properly, opting to place a haphazard bow on it instead. “Sorry, I didn’t know …”

Stiles had grabbed the cellophane-covered box with a puzzled expression. “A bath set?” he’d asked slowly. “Is this your way of telling me I stink?”

There had been amusement in the younger man’s tone, devoid of upset or disappointment, but that hadn’t stopped Derek from feeling upset and disappointed in himself. After Stiles had gone through all the trouble of giving him such a personal and meaningful gift, he’d reciprocated with … soap. “Remember when you were on break during Thanksgiving,” he’d started to explain. “That necromancer problem we had?”

“Oh, damn, do I ever! We spent the whole night trying to wash zombie goo out of bodily crevices I never knew I had!” Then, realization had set in as those rich brown eyes widened. “This is perfect, Derek! Thank you!” And just like that, Stiles had fallen on him with his usual gracelessness, and proceeded to express his ‘gratitude’ properly.

That had been last year. But this time around, right before Stiles had returned to campus for his final two semesters of college, Derek had stumbled upon the ideal Christmas gift, while they were cleaning, of all things. They’d been packing up and storing some of Stiles’ stuff before the younger man headed back to school when they’d gotten diverted by some dusty, old boxes in the Sheriff’s attic. Somehow, in the way of procrastination, they’d ended up flipping through old photo albums when Stiles had paused to tell him about a picture of his mother.

“Oh, there’s the locket my dad helped me buy for Mother’s Day when I was eight,” Stiles had said as he’d pointed to a picture of Claudia Stilinski, vivacious and beaming brightly at the camera. Anyone could see where Stiles had gotten his smile. “I didn’t have the greatest taste in jewelry, so it doesn’t look like much, but she was so excited when she got it. She wore it all the time.”

“It’s nice that you have a memento to remember her by,” Derek had supplied.

Stiles’ shoulders had slumped a little at the comment. “Yeah, I think we accidentally sold it during a garage sale not long after she died. Dad wasn’t exactly in the best place, and he just wanted to get rid of the memories because they hurt so much back then. Lots of regret now. Who knows? It might’ve found another home, or it might be in a garbage dump somewhere.”

And that comment had led him down the winding, convoluted path to where he was now: standing in front of a teenage girl with bright blue hair and an eclectic ensemble of a loose plaid shirt, artfully ripped leggings, and combat boots.

“A hundred bucks,” the girl re-stated, her tone indicating that this wasn’t a negotiation.

“One hundred? The pawn shop owner said you only paid five dollars for it.” He could be stubborn too, though deep down, he knew he wasn’t really in a position of power in this situation, much as that rankled him.

Ms. Blue-hair shrugged. “So? If you want it that bad, then you should be willing to pay for it.”

She had him there. Three months of diligently interviewing the Stilinski neighbors, and following a trail of multiple goodwill and pawn shops had led him to that very locket hanging from the girl’s neck, that very locket Stiles had shown him in that old photo of his mother. He gave the teen what Stiles had laughingly termed his ‘murder-brow’ look and pulled out his wallet. Of course, he would pay, especially after all the work he’d put into tracking it down, and because this was for Stiles. He didn’t have to like being swindled like this though.

“That’s a nice jacket, by the way.”

Derek looked up from pulling out the cash and froze. He glared at the girl, hoping the intensity of his stare would deter whatever she was about to insinuate. It didn’t work.

“No,” he said flatly as she watched him expectantly.

“Okay, I guess we’re done here then. Nice meeting you.” And with that, she turned and started to walk away.

Derek ground his teeth together to keep from outright growling and fought hard to not wolf out. He hated being bested like this. Life would’ve been so much simpler if he could just take the damned piece of jewelry by force and run off with it. Stupid morals.

“Fine,” he conceded with a clenched jaw after she’d managed to walk several feet away.

She turned with a triumphant smile as he started to shrug off his leather jacket. When he held it out with the wad of cash, she unclasped the chain without any further objections and handed it over. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

(***)

Stiles’ name flashed on his lock screen just as he was pulling up to his loft.

“Hey, you back already?” he answered as he shifted his car into park. His regular visits to Stanford notwithstanding, he’d been anticipating Stiles’ winter break for a while, and the timing couldn’t have worked out any better with him finding the locket when he had. “I was going to pick you up tonight after you’ve had a few hours with your dad.”

Several seconds of heavy breathing greeted his words, and almost instantly, he was on alert, muscles tensing and heartrate increasing. “Stiles?”

“Yeah, Derek, I’m here,” a familiar voice sounded through the phone. “Sorry, just had to get around Scott to check something out. But no, I’m not home yet. Got sidetracked on my way into town. Can you come to the preserve right now? The trail just off Parsons. We’ve got, um, a problem.”

Since his return to Beacon Hills, the supernatural activity in the area had decreased significantly, especially with a solid pack established in the area now, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t the occasional run-in with creatures bringing in death and mayhem. This sounded like one of those times. Shifting gears into reverse, he responded without hesitation, “On my way.”

The trip to the preserve was quick, the route having been travelled so many times that he could probably drive it eyes closed. After parking in the lot off Parsons, he picked up Stiles’ scent almost immediately, along with a few others of the pack, and had no problems tracking the source down a few hundred feet off a popular running path.

Not surprisingly, Scott noticed him first, looking up from a patch of tall grass and nodding in greeting as Derek silently approached. Stiles stood more out in the open, back turned and head down as he tapped busily on his phone. Once upon a time, his quiet ‘stalking’ would’ve caused a flailing of limbs and a high-pitched yelp from the younger man, but of the familiarity borne from the years of closeness, Stiles simply turned, smiled, and greeted him with a warm ‘hey’ as if he’d known he was there the whole time. And all things considered, he probably had.

They’d never been a couple for overt displays of affection, but the way Stiles unconsciously leaned toward him, trusting and open, worked just as well in telling Derek how the other man felt. He usually did the same, subtly breathing in the scent of his boyfriend and feeling more settled in his presence. They hadn’t seen each for a couple of weeks, and he’d missed having Stiles near.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking around for the rest of the pack. Their scents were fainter, which meant they had been here recently, but had likely wandered off or left altogether.

“It’s Christmastime in Beacon Hills, so the usual. Y’know, carolers, Santa parades, sleigh rides, tidings of comfort and joy, and oh yeah, witches.”

Derek had never been bothered by Stiles’ sarcasm, though he wouldn’t openly admit that if asked about their first encounters with each other, but now, he found the trait rather endearing. “So, we’re dealing with a witch. How bad?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I was driving back into town when I saw a kid running across the road. Freaked me out, and barely stopped in time. When I went to check on him, he was crying and said an old woman had tried to take him. At first, I thought it was an attempted kidnapping, but then, he said that there was a lot of screaming coming from her big bag, and he was scared of getting stuffed in there with all the other kid. For this town, that triggered alarm bells. Stuffing kids into bags and lugging them around is not your regular run-of-the-mill kidnapper MO. I called my dad, and he came out here with a few units, but is running interference on the supernatural front. He’d mentioned that this was the third attempted kidnapping this month, so the deputies are on high alert. They still think it’s a regular human predator, so they’re canvassing the other side of the preserve right now, which means we can do our own investigation here. I called Scott, and the others are now fanned out, doing a search to see if we can catch a scent.”

“No luck yet,” Scott added as he strode over to join them. “Just a whole bunch of the usual smells, and with the people that use the running trails, it’s hard to pinpoint a specific one. We’re not exactly sure what we’re looking for.”

“I think I have a lead though.” Stiles held out his phone to show an etching of a stooped crone with a large sack. “We might have an Icelandic witch in the area, one that kidnaps and eats children, but I’m not a hundred percent. I hope I’m not right because … well, children! But she’s supposed to be active around Christmas. I need to double-check some books at my house to make sure though.”

Derek nodded, not surprised that Stiles had pretty much figured it out already. As human as Stiles was, he was arguably one of the pack’s most valuable assets, and truth be told, Derek felt quite proud of the other man’s quick wit and life-saving accomplishments. “So, you need to go home then?”

Stiles made a sound of agreement as he tucked his phone away and gave him an apologetic look. No words were needed to communicate how sorry he was that their reunion wasn’t what they’d planned.

“Okay, call us with any info,” Scott chimed in. “Derek and I will probably be more useful if we keep scouting the area. This is children we’re talking about. I don’t want anymore of them put in danger.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Alpha leader, sir,” Stiles replied jokingly, giving his friend a mock salute.

The years had matured Scott somewhat, enough that the erstwhile werewolf took his role and responsibilities somewhat seriously now. And for this, Derek was grateful.

Scott gave Stiles a shove to get him on his way, before shaking his head with a laugh and started to move back to the tall grass he’d been searching through earlier. “Go, you idiot.”

Stiles responded with the very mature gesture of sticking out his tongue. Then, Derek felt the younger man’s arm wrap lightly around his waist and pull him close for a quick kiss. The motion was casual, natural, and one that Derek returned without thought. “Sorry, not what we’d planned when I got back, huh? Let’s catch this witch fast so we can start our Christmas cuddle session, ‘kay?”

Derek raised an eyebrow at the comment. His boyfriend sure did have a way with words sometimes. “Christmas cuddle?”

“Hey, it is what it is.” Stiles shrugged innocently as he started to move away.

“I’m not calling it that.”

“Suit yourself, Sourwolf, but I’ve officially labelled it, and you can’t take that away from me,” Stiles said as he walked backwards toward the nearby trail. Derek half-expected him to trip on some invisible rock in the next few seconds. “Gonna say it all I want!”

He rolled his eyes as the younger man’s antics. “Go.”

“Christmas cuddle! Oh, and far be it for me to complain about seeing you in that t-shirt, but you do know it’s winter, right? We may live in California, and you may have some super-awesome internal wolfy furnace going, but I’m cold just looking at you. Where’s your jacket?”

“Go!” While he didn’t feel the chill as acutely, he didn’t need to be reminded about his fleecing by a greedy, blue-haired teenager.

After Stiles wave his acknowledgement and jogged out of sight, Derek turned back to join Scott. Their relationship may have started out roughly, but they’d fallen into a companionable pattern over the last few years. It was likely because of everything Scott had been through and his maturation, but Derek guessed part of it may have been out of respect for both their relationships with Stiles. Without much preamble, they quickly sectioned off their respective search zones, and fanned out into the thicker parts of the preserve. Derek had grown up here, had run and played amongst the trees and foliage so often that walking through it now stirred a sense of homecoming. Still, sometimes, there were things here that could still surprise him. Like the odd whiff of fear and panic he caught a few minutes after he’d split off from Scott. It was faint, probably non-existent for the newer wolves, but it was there, so out of place with the earthy scent of moss and soil. He started to follow it, his senses sharpening as he homed in on the potential prey. He hadn’t made much progress before he heard a howl off in the distance, and his entire body tensed, ready for action.

They’d found something!

Once he pinpointed the source, he was off, dashing through branches and over roots with a surety of stride that had been acquired from a lifetime of running these woods. He didn’t get very far though. He heard it first, a loud symphony of disembodied laughter all around him. Before he could stop and confront whatever it was, he caught a flutter of movement in his periphery, and then, he was flying, thrown through the air by an impact harder than anything in recent memory. He was out cold before he even landed.

(***)

He wasn’t unconscious for long. At least, he didn’t think he was, given that generations of werewolf evolution had refined his healing abilities to the point where he shouldn’t be. But however long it was, it was enough to find himself strapped to a board – or a crude table, perhaps – staring up at the flickering shadows of a stone ceiling. Or a cave? He honestly hated losing time like this and waking up in unexpected places, which, given who he was and where he lived, was an actual occupational hazard.

A whimper somewhere to his left drew his attention just then, and he tilted his head at an uncomfortable angle to take better stock of where he was, and with whom. Just within his field of vision, he could barely make out a small figure sat huddled inside a primitively constructed cage no higher than his hip. A wood fire burned beneath a big vat just a few feet away, thoroughly heating up whatever was inside if the bubbling sound was any indication.

“Hey,” he said quietly, if a little hoarsely, hoping the hunched figure would shift enough into the firelight for him to make out who it was.

The figure shuffled over, and Derek could see the tear-streaked face of a boy, probably no more than eight or nine years old. Stiles had said there’d been attempted kidnappings. It looked like one had succeeded.

“H-hello? You’re awake.”

“Yeah, I am.” He wasn’t good with children, barring the few cousins he’d played with when he was younger, yet that had been different. They’d been family. He knew this kid was scared, could hear it in the tremor of his voice and smell it in the dankness of the air, but he wasn’t sure what he could say to help with that. “I’m Derek. What’s your name?”

“A-Andy.”

“Well, Andy, if you give me a minute, we can get out of here and I’ll take you back to your parents.” He tried to sound reassuring, though he wasn’t sure it worked as well as he’d intended when he was tugging and testing the thick ropes tied around his chest, waist, and legs. They were tight, but he managed to slide a hand free enough to shift and start slicing away at the restraints with his claw.

“Just Mom,” the boy said quietly. “Dad left.”

“Okay, we’re going to find your mom then. I’m sure she’s really missing you right now.” He figured that keeping a calm tone and easy conversation going was as good a plan as any while he worked on the ropes.

Andy shuffled a little in his cage, his face dipping down again into the shadows cast by the nearby fire. “She’s working. She’s always working. She promised I’d get to see Dad, but she couldn’t take me, so I went to find him myself.”

Which might explain why the boy hadn’t been reported missing yet. There was some give to the rope by his right hip, so he tilted his head and tried to look over at the boy and hoped he properly projected the sincerity of his words. “That doesn’t mean she’s not missing you, Andy. I know she’s probably very worried. She – “

The stench assaulted him first, sour and rancid, before he felt the whole space shake with a reverberating thud. Andy quickly scooted back into the corner of his cage with a scared squeak, leaving Derek to turn and search out the source in the dim light. An old woman came into view near the foot of his table, posture bent and face haggard, each of her steps sending tiny shockwaves through the cave. Her long, gray hair hung in a greasy, unkempt mess, framing a crooked nose and a gap-toothed, mirthless grin. She resembled the picture Stiles had shown him on his phone, but the younger man had neglected to mention one thing. She was a fucking giant!

The whole cave suddenly felt cramped, and her looming presence caused his heartrate to spike. He worked faster on his ropes.

“Good dog. You’re too old and gristly for my liking, but if my lads want a pet, a pet they will get,” she said in a voice deeper than he’d expected. She patted his stomach dismissively as she passed, and he fought hard not cry out at the jarring, painful contact. “Now, where’s my little snack? Little boy for a little snack. Little boy snack.” She cackled at her own wit.

He heard Andy whimper again as the old, giant crone ambled her way over to the cage, and he wanted to tell the boy to be brave, to hold on because he was almost through his rope. Yet, as he was about to do just that, he caught the scent of metal and electricity in the air. It cut through the myriad of other unpleasant smells like an olfactory beacon, clear and crisp and a harbinger of something – or someone – familiar. He couldn’t help but smile a little at the arrival of the calvary, even as Andy shrieked when the witch pulled him roughly from the cage and shuffled over to the boiling pot.

Then, several things happened at once. First, voices that sounded like the disembodied laughter he’d heard earlier came from somewhere outside. This time, however, they were shouting out in distress, intermingled with the familiar voices of his pack. The cries gave the witch pause for a split second, just as he cut through the last of his restraints and pulled free. After that, he was up and leaping through the air, aiming to get Andy free of the old woman’s clutches and away from the fire. And he managed just that, wrapping his arms around the boy as he clawed at the large hand that held him. But he underestimated the reaction speed of the crone, and barely managed to turn his body to shield Andy before her other hand swatted his side. He landed with bone-cracking impact against the boiling pot, adrenalin enhancing his movements as he rolled quickly to avoid landing on the fire or getting splattered by the hot liquid in the toppling vat. He was pretty sure he’d probably cracked a few ribs, but they were already healing. Andy seemed none the worse for wear when he looked down, unhurt and safe in his arms still.

“My boys! What are they doing to my boys?” the witch wailed.

Derek tensed briefly, thinking the giantess would take her surprise and anger out on him. He readied himself for a fight, but instead, she turned and marched the other way, he and Andy seemingly forgotten. He eased himself up with a barely suppressed groan, and let the small body pressed against his chest slide down to his lap. He could hear the pack outside, the growls of the wolves and the foreign-sounding chants from Stiles, and he knew that they had it handled.

“You okay?” he asked as he gave Andy a good once-over.

The boy simply nodded, his whole body still trembling. Then, without a word, he leaned forward and hugged Derek as if his life depended on it. Not sure how else to respond, Derek hugged the child back.

That was how Stiles found them a few minutes later when he stumbled clumsily into the cave. After some coaxing, they both managed to talk Andy into finally letting go. Scott took it from there, coming in to take the boy away to find the Sheriff, who had been called to the area when Stiles had triangulated Derek’s location. Stiles waited a moment after Scott had left before he turned and threw himself into Derek’s arms.

“Oh, thank every deity I just prayed to you’re okay. Had me worried.”

Derek squeezed the warm, lithe body clinging to him like an octopus, and bent down to briefly nuzzle his partner’s neck. He breathed in the fortifying scent that was simply Stiles and used it to ground himself after the crazy events that had just happened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m fine.”

“I know. You’re one tough son of a bitch, but the uncertainty always gets me.” Stiles pulled away and gave him a look with those ridiculously wide Bambi-like eyes that made Derek’s insides go warm. “And of course, you would go all superhero and save a child while we saved you. With the way the boy was holding on to you, I thought you’d replaced me with a cuter, newer model.”

Derek quirked up his lip into a lopsided, half-smile. “Never,” he returned easily. “If I did, I would at least try to get a good trade-in price for you.”

“Smartass.” As his comeback, Stiles smacked his arm with the back of his hand. He then slipped said hand into Derek’s, intertwined their fingers, and started walking out of the cave. “See if I ever send baddies back through an intercontinental gate for you again.”

“So, she wasn’t a witch?” Derek asked as he followed Stiles’ lead out of the cave

“Oh, no, she was a witch. The giantess witch, Gryla, and her sons, the Yule Lads. I don’t know how they got here, but I was working off of some quick and dirty research, so the best I could do was track down caves in the area, which is what the literature says she tends to favor, and find a spell to send her back to her native Iceland.”

Derek silently listened as Stiles explained what had happened, both grateful and proud – and not for the first or last time either – at the quick wit and resourcefulness of the guy he got to call his. They eventually emerged from the cave, and he immediately felt lighter the moment he could smell the fresh earth and foliage again. The sun was beginning to set, creating lengthening shadows of the redwoods and the oaks that stood like sentinels around them. And with that came a distinct chill in the air. He felt Stiles shiver at the lower temperature, and wished he’d had his jacket around to offer the other man. The jacket that he’d exchanged for …

With his free hand, he reached into his jeans pocket where he’d tucked the locket earlier, and –

Shit!

Without another thought, he turned and sprinted back into the cave. He quickly scanned the area and did not see the locket anywhere. His eyes then fell on the overturned pot and the still-burning embers of the woodfire. A dash of panic began to taint his actions, but he didn’t stop to quell it. Instead, he rushed over to the dying fire and started digging through the ashes. His hands burned and healed almost simultaneously as he dug desperately through the charred wood, an odd combination of frustration and helplessness clouding his judgement.

“Derek?”

He heard Stiles, but didn’t answer, mainly because his fingers wrapped around a clump of metal just then. He looked down at what used to be Stiles’ mother’s locket, the piece now misshapen by the heat and bearing no resemblance to what it used to be. He dropped the thing, both dejected and angry. This was supposed to be the year. This was supposed to be the Christmas where he would show Stiles how much the younger man meant to him by putting the care and thought into his gift that Stiles had always put into his. But everything… everything had been for nothing.

“Derek? What’s wrong? You okay?” Stiles approached and knelt beside him, looking ready to join him in whatever he was searching for.

He brushed the soot and ash off his hands, shook his head, and stood up. “Nothing. I’m good. Just thought I dropped something but I was wrong. C’mon, let’s go home.”

Puzzled, Stiles stood too, though he didn’t pry, and together, they made their way out of the cave once more, but not before Derek threw one last, longing glance at the pile of ashes.

(***)

“Oh, my god, I’m so stuffed,” Stiles said as he plopped down on the couch and rubbed his belly. “I might have to be rolled off to bed later because there’s no way I’m standing up.”

Derek smiled softly at the younger man’s dramatics, and joined him on the sofa. Christmas dinner had been an intimate one again between just the two of them, with Derek doing most of the preparation, while Stiles had ‘helped’. He didn’t mind though. He enjoyed their time together. The way they fit together, their ease with each other … it had all been hard-won, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. The younger man had chatted animatedly throughout the meal and Derek had let him go on, wanting to prolong the whole thing because, if he was being honest, he was dreading what would happen afterwards: their gift exchange.

“Merry Christmas, Derek,” Stiles said, as if reading his thoughts. He reached over to the end table and grabbed an unevenly wrapped gift.

Derek stared at the thing for a moment, just knowing deep down it would be a typical Stiles present, all special and personal. Why did Stiles even stay with him? He must come across as an unthoughtful, unappreciative jerk. Slowly, he unwrapped the gift, and revealed a collage of artfully arranged photographs. There were trees and flowers and butterflies dancing on sunbeams across open trails. They were beautiful, more so in that Derek recognized where they had been taken: the preserve.

“You sometimes talk about how you grew up in the preserve,” Stiles explained. “How it’s a second home to you, and how you have all those memories with your family there. I know the memories are special, so I went and took some pictures during summer break. I hope these help you remember all those good times.”

Derek blinked away the prickling he felt in his eyes. Stiles may have assumed he was touched by the gift, which was fine. He didn’t need to know what Derek was really feeling. He didn’t need to know that in that moment, he thought Stiles really deserved so much better than him.

“Thank you. It’s perfect,” he choked out. “I – “ He didn’t know how to continue. What else could he say? “My present isn’t –“

He stopped. Stiles looked at him expectantly. Not finding the right words, he leaned over to the coffee table and grabbed the last-minute gift bag he’d filled the day before. “Here.”

He looked away while Stiles eagerly dug into the bag. He knew what was in there, and he didn’t need to see the lackluster reaction the younger man would have at the assortment of Reese’s candies he’d find.

“Oh, this is awesome, Derek!” Stiles exclaimed excitedly. “Holy shit, there’s a half pound peanut butter cup in here! Hello, Heaven!”

Derek felt Stiles’ arms wrap around him in gratitude, but he couldn’t find it in himself to return the gesture. The younger man seemed to notice and pulled back. “Derek?”

He turned and took in Stiles’ questioning gaze. He couldn’t do this. They complemented each other so well in everything, but somehow, in this, they were completely mismatched. “Doesn’t it bother you?” he asked in earnest.

“What?”

“My gifts. Doesn’t it bother you that my gifts are so … so bad. Yours are always so … so perfect.” It felt good to get that off his chest.

Stiles gawked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language. “Huh? But I think your gifts are perfect. And that’s not a lie. You can tell, right?”

True, Derek hadn’t heard any change in the other man’s heartrate to indicate otherwise, but no one could like his choice of gifts that much. “I just ... I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you, how much I care about you, the same way to do for me, especially with the gifts you give me. But I can’t seem to do that.” This was uncharted territory for him, this admission. He wasn’t used to revealing his insecurities like this. Yet, this was Stiles he was talking to, he reminded himself. Stiles, who never had any shame in revealing his every failure and weakness, and who gave his trust without fear of being hurt. Derek owed him the same. “I found your mother’s locket,” he finally said. “The one from the album you showed me. I found it, and was going to give it to you, but I lost it when we fought that witch last week. I’m sorry.”

He stared at the coffee table. He stared at the discard wrapping paper of the collage he’d just received. He started at everything but Stiles.

And then, “That’s what you were worried about? Not being able to show me you loved me?” Stiles’ tone was incredulous, and it was enough for Derek to turn his attention to the younger man again. “You’re an idiot, Derek,” Stiles continued. “For the record, your presents are awesome. But that’s not the point. You drive three hours each way to visit me on campus every other weekend. You cook Christmas dinner for us every year. You help me pack for college each fall. You drop everything and meet me in a forest, no questions asked, when I call. You even spent all night picking zombie guts out of my hair. If that doesn’t say ‘love’, I don’t know what does!”

To put an exclamation to his point, Stiles pulled him in for a long, lingering kiss. “I love you, Derek Hale, and I know you love me. You don’t need to give me things to show me that. You show me every day in the things you do. And that’s more than enough.”

Derek looked at the man sitting beside him, stunned and at a loss. “I –“

“It’s more than enough,” Stiles re-stated firmly. “Now, stop your self-flagellation, and show me how much you appreciate my gift by kissing me.”

Stiles pulled him in again, and this time, Derek did put everything he had into that kiss because the weight of those heartfelt words were slowly sinking in. He loved Stiles. And Stiles … Stiles knew that. He groaned in appreciation at the true gift he’d been given as he pushed the younger man down onto his back, bracing his weight on his arms as he ground their hips together. Fuck it, he felt like he’d really won the lottery in finding Stiles … because Stiles was right, he realized as he deepened their kiss, tasting and teasing the smart, sarcastic, and silly man beneath him.

This … This was more than enough.

#obsessedbutonline #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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hpdabbles · 4 years

Note

-hey can i borrow your pen- how much did this cost “30$” yoUS PENT 30$ ON A P E N +wolfstar I know this is more than 6 months late,but i can give it a try..... ~ hglb

Sirius had watched him for the past two weeks. The new student hadn’t made any friends since he arrived but he did turn more than one head as he hurried to classes in the halls.

The students took notice of him, some with far too much hunger in their eyes others with giggly anticipation.

Not that the boy seemed aware of his effect on people, in fact, Sirius was quite sure he thought himself ugly with the way he grimaces whenever he caught his reflection. Maybe he thought this because of the strange scars on his face, they were small and pale white but they were noticeable.

Sirius thought they made him all that more attractive. They spoke of a hidden story, one he just had to uncover.

Everything about Remus Lupin was fascinating, from the way he always finished assignments before anyone else to the way he hunched his shoulders and keep his eyes away from meeting others. It wasn’t that he was shy. Sirius had seen plenty of people be shy, but it seemed Remus was just more comfortable alone.

He was a quiet type by nature, but there were moments where his eyes would sparkle with mischevious intent and weary humor made his lips twitch in class as if he thought of something humorous no one else was pried to. Remus held a storm behind his calm and Sirius was dying to meet the thunder head-on.

That’s what lead to him approaching the other male in the library at lunchtime, scared out of his mind. While many believed otherwise Sirius wasn’t the smoothest of people. He could flirt when it was a joke, but against someone, he actually was attracted to Sirus tended to stumble over his tongue.

James claimed it was due to him being inexperienced which would get better over time. His best friend was nothing like Sirius, he saw someone he liked, he would march right over and talk them up. Sirius tended to go in the opposite direction and hid behind a school pillar.

But Remus was different, somehow Sirius felt like he could actually look him in the eye and have a conversation. He still made him nervous but…in a good way.

“Hey there,” He says as casually as he can stopping only a few feet away from the table Remus was studying at.

The boy looks up and for a moment Sirus is lost in those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes. “Oh, hello.”

Oh, no. Is he sweating? Sirius feels like he’s sweating. He feels like his descending to a higher place of being and he has no idea what to say to Remus now. “I’m Sirius Black”

“Remus Lupin.” The other student says smiling at him politely. There is a momentary pause then he starts to appear awkward. “Ugh, can I help you with something?”

Jerking, Sirius stops staring at him, trying to remember all the helpful tips James loaded him up with before sending the Black into the library. “Yeah. I was wondering if I could borrow…your pen?”

That wasn’t the best he could do but Remus is nodding. There are no writing utensils on his table as the other had been typing on a laptop. Sirius feels like an idiot.

He slaps a hand over his face then rips it away, ashamed to have done so in front of Remus. Thankfully the other male is too busy reaching for his backpack to notice. He roots through his bag and pulls out a small rectangular box, the kind used for jewelry.

With great care, he removes the white lid and presents Sirius with marble of a pen made of wood with those fancy quill type tip. He offers the pen up to him and Sirius can only gape. He doesn’t even feel nervous anymore to confuse on why a teenage boy carried something like this around.

“How much did this cost?” He finds himself asking.

Remus shrugs his shoulders “Thirty dollars”

“You spent thirty dollars on a pen?!”

He gets a grin that’s all sharp teeth as if a canine was baring its teeth in warning. “I like pens.”

There is an odd little tilt to his tone, one Sirus can’t understand. Defiance maybe. Or daring. “Are you sure I can borrow this then? If you like pens and it’s one of your favorites plus being so expensive I just don’t feel right taking it.”

“Oh, this isn’t my favorite.” Remus corrects cheerfully. He sets the box down on the table, pressing his fingers down on the surface of the wood first as to not cause unnecessary noise. It’s an action Sirius is only aware of due to his mother throwing a fit whenever he purposely chooses to ignore his lessons.

Remus seems to have some lessons in proper manners.

Before Sirius stun eyes, Remus begins to pull out more jewelry boxes, placing them with great care on the table. There is exciting energy to his movements now, like a child showing off their toys. Those brown eyes are sparkling with barely contained joy and for once, Remus’ shoulders are not hunched over. Sirius finds himself blushing, and his stomach turning at how cute he seems.

He finds himself taking a seat at Remus table, grinning over the small stack of boxes, as one by one the new student opens them and starts talking about the newest pen. They’re all with those fancy tips, but the design is different and a few of them are even made of glass.

Turns out, pen making is the Lupin family business and Remus’ favorite pen is the first one he made with his father when he was seven.

Sirius makes an effort to actively encourage Remus to talk more about that one, which rewards him with one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. With bright eyes and flushed cheeks from happiness, Lupin gifts the brightest most heart throbbing smile Sirius has ever seen and at that moment, he finally understands what James meant when he said Lily glows in his eyes.

He could sit there and watch him forever.

“-that’s why it cost so much but I think it worth it if you can get the ink to not spill.” Remus is saying then like a switch he flinches and hunches his shoulders again, cutting off that brilliant light. Sirius almost whines. “Sorry, this may be boring.”

“Not at all!” He quick to say. Attempting for his most charming smile Sirius leans a little close, head propped by his hands. “I think this is all fascinating. Maybe I should stop by your family store and get me a custom job.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “I thought thirty dollars was too much to pay for a pen?”

“For a boring average pen. A Lupin special though? I think that’s money well spent.” Especially if he can watch those scar hands make them.

“Are you mocking me?” The teeth-baring is back and for a moment something in Remus’ eyes flashes, looking entirely too feral.

Sirius blanches afraid he butcher this up says the first thing that comes to his mind. “What, no! I really do want a pen! Say with the Regulus constellation engraved on the handle?”

“Regulus?”

“My little brother’s name is Regulus. His birthdays next month and he likes stuff like this. It’s why I could follow along to the different tip talk you had earlier.” That’s a fat lie, Sirius had no idea why a different angel made the writing come out differently but he’s good at talking himself out of detention so maybe that skill is applicable here. “It might be a bit pricey, but if the quality is as good as the ones you showed me then it’s worth it.”

Remus eyes him for a moment longer before he nods and relaxes. Quirking a small smile at him, Sirius feels his stomach do three flips. “I could help you design a pen right now and get my dad to work on it today if you like.”

“You do that?” Sirius almost sighs.

Remus offers him another glowing smile “Of course. You just spent the last half hour listening to me ramble about pens, least I could do.”

A month later Regulus stares at the box holding one of the most gorgeous galaxy style pens sets he’s ever own. He loved them the moment he opened the box, a little surprise Sirius finally got him a present he actually liked.

It makes him feel a little special that the Regulus constellation had been included as self-centered as that is to admit, but one thing does bother him. “You paid a hundred and thirty dollars for pens? Why Sirius?”

Sirius who was too busy sighing longingly as he texted Remus could only whisper “I was weak for those dimples.”

#Hpdabbles #Harry Potter #WolfStar #Lupin Pens #Sirius has a huge crush #Remus is a nerd who loves pens #low-key thinks the hot jock talking to him was trying to bully him #Now he thinks Sirius is a really good older brother #Anonymous

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mymoodwriting · 4 years

Text

No More Promises

Mark/Donghyuck

Genre: Mafia/Neo Tech AU

Warning: None

Words: 1.4K

Chapters:

Prompt: Donghyuck had spent all his life on the streets, over the years making a family out of other random strays he came across. He did his best to look after them, that is until Mark came into his life. The boy was like a gift, being able to provide and look after all of them. It was wonderful, at first anyway. Things quickly got complicated as Mark got involved in all kinds of dangerous things in order to keep a promise, one of many promises. This eventually tore them apart, Hyuck’s little family leaving Mark in the wind after another broken promise. They did the best they could on their own, that is until Mark finds his way back into their life. He made another promise, to someone who would absolutely make sure he kept it.

Jisung stared at the skyline from the window of their dorm. He had never seen such a view, and he never thought he’d be so fortunate to enjoy it, let alone with clean clothes, food in his belly, and a home. He wasn’t alone, Chenle playing video games on the couch.

“You have to admit… the last few days have been… good…”

“So?”

“If we leave… things won’t ever be like this again.”

“What makes you say that.”

“Look around, gosh aren’t you playing on the latest gaming console that cost like five hundred dollars? We could never afford a life like this, not if we all worked ourselves to death.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Hechan is sick, he’s been sick for a while. He’s not even awake yet. If we leave do you think we can take care of him? He’d be more at ease here, if we stay.”

“And you don’t think Mark’s gonna hang around and annoy him?”

“There are a lot of other people here, we can probably keep him away or ask for him to be kept away. The people here care about us or else they wouldn’t be offering so much.”

“Mark’s not gonna leave us alone.” Jeno said as he entered the room. “Or Haechan. The deal he made was that his family joins him here. So him not being around is not an option. We should leave.”

“But Haechan is sick.” Jisung reminded. “If we leave he’s gonna burden himself with looking after us again. We need to do what’s best for him, he needs to be taken care of too. I don’t want him working himself to the bone again. I want to stay, so does Chenle.”

“Yup.”

“Think about what you’re saying.” Jeno said. “Tomorrow we should talk as a group.”

♥♥♥♥♥

With Haechan on bed rest, the doctor had given them some tasks so they could check up on him themselves. Jaemin and Renjun were with Haechan, making sure everything was okay, and Jaemin figured it was a good time to talk.

“You know he’s been getting lots of sleep, I’m kinda jealous.”

“No ones stopping you from turning into a sloth.”

“Thanks.” It was quiet for a moment. “Hey, Ren, can I ask something?”

“Hm?”

“Where do you stand on the staying or leaving debate?”

“I’m not sure… you?”

“Same, but I can’t help but think this isn’t just about Haechan.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve all grown up, we’re all older now. Haechan can’t look after all of us forever. We should do what’s best for all of us, especially him.”

“And Mark?”

“This isn’t about him. Never has been, never will be. It might do him some good to hear Haechan’s hatred for once, also good for Hyuck to get it off his chest.”

“True, but we still have to talk to the others.”

“We will, just promise to make your own decision.”

“Sure, you better too.”

♥♥♥♥♥

Haechan slowly regained consciousness. When he saw Jungwoo’s face he jumped up, once again trying to get out of bed. He was held back.

“Why is it that the first thing you try to do is get up and leave?”

Haechan stopped and looked over to see someone else in the room with him. It was just like before when he woke up with Johnny there, so this was starting to feel like deja vu.

“Who are you?”

“You can call me Ten. I’d like to have a chat.”

“This is deja vu… whatever you have to say, or offer, my answer will be the same. I want to leave.”

“I’m not here to play games, so I’ll be honest with you. Leaving is not an option you have.”

“So we’re hostages?”

“No, not at all, you’re just too important. Now that leaving is out of the question, perhaps you can see the great opportunity that’s been presented to you. I’d like to give you a proper tour of my home, no secrets. Of course you don’t have a choice. So, why don’t you go eat with your family and I’ll wait for you. He’s clear to do that, right Woo?”

“Yes. Vitals are much better.”

“Good. You should get going, I’m sure they’d be happy to see you. Oh, and how about we keep things between us, for now.”

“Whatever.”

When Haechan made his way to the kitchen, once he was spotted he was surrounded by warm hugs. Everyone was talking a mile a minute, asking if he felt better, that they’ve missed him, glad to see him on his feet, and asking him to join them for lunch among other things. After the initial excitement settled down it got a bit quiet. He knew why, there was a discussion they needed to have.

“So, how have you guys been?” Haechan asked. “I know I haven’t been around much.”

“We’ve been good.” Renjun assured. “Just worried about you is all.”

“Haechan….”

“Yes, Jisung? What is it?”

“Can we… should we stay here?”

“Jisung.” Jeno hissed. “We can talk about that later.”

“It’s okay. I know… I know this place would be good for you, for all of you. It’s just that I don’t trust these people. After this I’m gonna talk with one of them again and… see what happens.”

“Be careful.”

Around the time they all finished up Ten emerged from the dorm, asking Haechan to come with him. He assured the others he’d be alright. They wind up back at the penthouse, even more deja vu for Haechan, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“You’ve heard of our company before right?”

“NCT? Yeah, big corporation. I don’t think you’ve had a scandal, you’re like angels or some shit.”

“Our reputation precedes us then, that’s good.”

“If only the world knew how shitty you really were.”

“We’re not, we really are trying to make the world a better place. We’ve got our hands in every industry which helps us achieve that.”

“That doesn’t sound good. So how about we cut the bullshit and you tell me why my family is here and why you won’t let us leave despite telling us that was an option.”

“Straight to the point, I like. To put it simply, you and your boys are special.”

“Special how?”

“Everyone here has… abilities… and I believe you do too.”

Haechan laughed. “What kinda bullshit is that? Are you guys superheroes or something?”

“I wouldn’t use that title, we’re not public.”

“If that’s true then what’s your ability?”

“I can make people do whatever I want.”

“Oh really? Make me do something.”

“Okay. Why don’t you come over here and kiss me.”

“Really? You think a line like that would work?”

“...”

“What did you think was gonna-”

“Jaehyun!”

“What!”

Jaehyun came into the room, having been called over from whatever he was doing. He gave Haechan a smile but he seemed annoyed to have been interrupted.

“Strip.”

“For fucks sake-”

“Now.”

Jae glared at Ten as he started taking his clothes off. Ten watched intently, then glanced over at Haechan who was averting his eyes.

“That’s interesting…”

“You guys are into some weird shit.”

“You’re not affected by my powers… only one other person is immune.”

“Ten can I fucken stop?” Jae asked.

“Please do.” Haechan said. “I don’t wanna see your dick.”

“Ten!”

“Fine. Grab your clothes, and stay.”

“Ugh.”

“If this is supposed to prove something, it didn’t. How do I know you didn’t prepare this stunt?”

“You think I wanted to get naked?”

“Quiet, Jaehyun.” Ten sighed. “I see your point, you don’t believe me. How about Jaehyun? I said we all have powers here, and his is much more obvious. Jaehyun, be a dear and turn into Mark.”

Before Haechan could comment he saw Jaehyun suddenly change. It was quick but he could see enough morphing to know it wasn’t some trick. Suddenly Mark was half naked in the room. Haechan screamed and jumped to his feet, Mark just rolled his eyes and finished getting dressed. Satisfied with the reaction, Ten told Jaehyun to shift back to himself and the boy left.

“Is that believable?”

“Ha… how? How is that possible!”

“I’d answer, but it’s probably best we go down to the lab and talk to the guy who made this discovery, Hendery. I’m sure he’d be happy to spill all those sciency details.”

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minah-delacroix · 3 years

Text

At any price (Part IV)

Universe: Dynasty AU

Characters: Minah, Sungjae, Tyler, Tara, Ashleigh, Daniel, Lucas

Word count: 4,3 k

The blind spot

“The Lee Corp gift strategists are on their way, should I set them up in the study room?” Lucas, Tyler’s very handsome mentee, said as the two of them walked into the golden room on the second floor of the Lee Manor. It was just another morning at the Lee’s, and Lucas ever so helpful was running through Tyler’s day’s schedule. Coming from one of the richest families in town, Lucas Zhang was surely one of a kind. He possessed the killing looks of a pop star —or at least that was how Jane described him to anyone willing to listen—, the good manners of the only son of a very traditional, old money Asian family and the ability to memorize Tyler’s schedule by heart and put up with his oftentimes ridiculous demands.

“Please, do,” Tyler said, practically snatching the cup of coffee one of the maids was about to serve to Lucas before sitting at the head of the curved glass table where Tara usually hosted her reading club soirées, but that had been set up for yet another majestic breakfast that morning.

Living with the Lee siblings was quite an experience and despite having spent nearly a month under the same roof, Minah was not used to their extravagant way of living yet. Even for someone like her who’d grown up surrounded by otherworldly luxury and wealth, some of Tyler’s habits seemed over the top at the very least. Minah had uselessly tried to convince herself that having her clothes washed and ironed with lavender water imported exclusively from Provence for that purpose or having breakfast at different sections of the house every day were just little quirks, but some of the house’s codes made her frankly uncomfortable. Having Tyler’s maids following her around and offering to perform even the most common and simplest of the tasks was one of them. She still recalled the time one of the housemaids offered to undress her and brush her hair before taking a bath. According to Tara, it was just the royal pampering they had been trained to give, but Minah still found it odd. Royal court training or not, she didn’t want any woman touching her intimately.

Then there was the excessive food and the grand buffets each meal turned into. Minah herself was not too much of a foodie, so she considered the exaggerated amount of fine cuisine a waste of resources. That morning was no particularly different and a spread of breakfast classics laid out on the table: exotic fineries like British tea mixes Minah had never heard of before, macarons from Tyler’s personal patissier, small cakes with the Lee family’s coat of arms —two dragons intertwined by a cross flory over a per saltire field—, silver dollar pancakes with red fruits, toasted English muffins, four different types of yogurt, you name it.

“Good morning, Miss Delacroix” Minah couldn’t help but smile that little satisfied grin of hers she reserved for men of his kind when Lucas sat across the table, bowing at her the slightest bit. Breakfast had suddenly become ten times more fulfilling with a man as beautiful around.

“Did you sleep well, darling?” Tyler cleared his throat, directing a fleeting, charming smile at Minah, who sat to his right dressed in a luxurious champagne peignoir that hugged every curve of her body. Then he eyed Lucas, pointing at the iPad with a very detailed schedule glowing on its screen.

“After the meeting with the-“ Whatever Lucas was planning to say, it was disrupted by his phone loudly ringing in the pocket of his Anderson & Sheppard jacket. He picked the call and almost immediately mouthed a “they’re here” to Tyler. Lucas pushed the chair back and stood up excusing himself with Minah with another bow before disappearing through the arched entrance.

“Is Mr. Choi up yet?” Tyler ignored the little pout Minah’s lip stuck out in and asked to no one in particular, though if Minah had to guess, he was talking to Mrs. Chu, his elderly Singaporean nanny.

“I’m afraid not” She replied, barely looking up from her phone. She was lounging on a chaise long, focused on her favorite mobile game. “He said he needed to catch up on his sleep,” She said before muttering to herself “As though he didn’t sleep enough already”.

“Well, please let him know I’ll be in the study room with the gift strategists in case he needs anything” Tyler reached to grab a pitcher of orange juice, but one of the maids standing nearby pounced forward to serve him.

“Gift strategists?” Minah asked, blowing softly on the surface of her cup of pine nut and apricot tea.

“Gifts for our clients” Tyler replied naturally “I mean, my family company’s” he corrected himself as the maid placed a bowl of fruit and greek yogurt in front of him “We are sponsoring The Royal Exchange's annual tree lighting ceremony this year. I thought we’d hand the gifts there-” He trailed off, a slightly concerned expression of disbelief crossed his face “Don’t tell me, you forgot the year-end business presents for our company”

Minah shook her head fervently although Tyler was not mistaken. With the stress of dealing with her family and her mind occupied by thoughts of Sungjae, she’d completely forgot about the business presents she was supposed to prepare. “What do you take me for?” She chuckled “Of course Maison Envoûté has something in the works."

“Do I get one of these gifts too?” Daniel Choi swept into the impromptu breakfast room and sat down across from Minah, admiring the food waiting for him.

“No, your life has been one big Christmas morning since you arrived” Minah faked a sweet smile at Tyler’s friend, who was meant to be visiting from New York for a week, but who’d already prolonged his stay a couple of times. Minah thought she had reasons to worry about him and how much of a distraction he’d represented since he set foot at the Manor. Tyler would often forget appointments because Daniel was around doing God knows what to keep him off his duties.

“You two behave, I’ll be in the study room,” Tyler said trying not to giggle at the way his business partner and his best friend looked at each other —as though they were planning each other’s funeral. “See you at the office, Min” Tyler gave Minah a quick soft kiss on the forehead before exiting the room, causing Daniel to fake retching noises.

“So what are you gonna do?” Daniel asked once Tyler was gone. Minah looked over at him with a serious and inquiring face, so he added “About the client gifts you don’t have?” With an eye roll.

“Like I said it’s in the works” Minah glared at Daniel so forcefully she was surprised he didn’t retreat then.

“Tyler might’ve bought your act, but he’s nice and he gives people more credit than they deserve” He sneered as one of the maids offered him a basket of pastries. He picked a croissant. “I’ve been here two weeks and I already know you have a blind spot when it comes to thinking about other people” He looked like he was going to add something else but he thought better and simply forced himself to smile at Minah

“I have no blind spots. I see all spots.” Minah picked a strawberry and took a bite “Just like I see you eating your croissants while you may be desperately trying to claim a seat at this table” Minah watched satisfied the way Daniel’s face tensed up “But you need to know that unless you’re a Lee or make business with a Lee, no one cares what you think” Minah popped the rest of the strawberry into her mouth, chewing slowly, her mouth twisting into a smirk as she stood to leave “Especially not me”

Daniel’s eyes followed Minah when she walked out of the room, a strange smile gleaming across his face as he piled mini croissants onto his platter.

Boundaries

“Hey, I need a shopping partner or an assistant whichever you’re in the mood to be” Minah called, walking into Sungjae’s house

Somewhere in between the charity football game and the present day Minah and Sungjae had a conversation that allowed them to get some things off their chest and agree to try and be friendly to each other. After all, they’d known each other for a long time, and ignoring each other’s existence was as uncomfortable as it was inconvenient, considering Minah still helped Aurelie with some of her family’s minor companies. That’s why Minah thought there would be no problem if she paid a quick visit to her new “friend”.

“A ride at the very least” she suggested, fixing the chain of her shoulder bag. Just as she reached his room, the door opened and Ashleigh walked through it. She didn’t seem surprised to see Minah, instead, she was fastening her belt with a hundred-watt grin crossing her lipstick smudged lips.

“Oh, I see someone already got one” Minah scoffed, trying to look unfazed and unaffected by the fact Ashleigh never seemed to leave Sungjae’s side.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” Ashleigh asked, walking out of Sungjae’s room and picking her bag from the console table in the hall.

A jab of jealousy nailed Minah in the gut. She could remember personally picking that table for Sungjae in one of the many home decor shopping sprees they went on when he first moved into the Delacroix property.

Suddenly the awful realization that it never was just sex swept over Minah. Sungjae meant a lot more to her than she ever admitted.

Obviously, now it was too late.

“Oh, you mean I can’t just walk in like I own the place?” Minah questioned with a thinly veiled smirk. “Because newsflash, I do”

Ashleigh purposely ignored Minah’s words and reached to pick her coat.

“So how is the job going? Heard Mr. Rausing wasn’t too pleased after finding out you rejected our contract. Now he’s been chasing after us, desperately trying to get us to sign with him, offering us a bargain price for your textiles” Suddenly feeling vindictive, Minah said despitefully. "I guess I should thank you after all"

“The only job I want to talk about is the faux job you pretended to give my boyfriend” Ashleigh frowned. It was the first time the two of them met face to face after Envoûté’s launch party, so Minah wasn’t exactly shocked to find out Sungjae’s girlfriend was still furious at her. After all, she’d made her cry and leave the party early.

“Faux job?” Nevertheless, Minah feigned obliviousness “Wow that’s pretty classy, Ash” Ashleigh cast an exasperated glare at Minah, so she gave in “You know you could argue that me pretending to blow Sungjae was a good thing, you two came out stronger than ever-”

“Are you high on something?” Ashleigh forced a laugh. As if on cue, Sungjae step into the hall.

“What is going on?”

Minah shrugged innocently and Ashleigh, though still fuming, only turned to face her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the mouth.

Minah looked away, feeling an unpleasant twinge of jealousy.

“I was about to leave” Ashleigh put on her coat as Sungjae looked over at Minah questioningly “Maybe you should change your locks” The blonde woman gave Sungjae a peck on the cheek before walking out of his home.

There was a brief silent moment where Sungjae continued to look at Minah as if asking for explanations, but she had already started to walk toward the kitchen.

“Minah“ Sungjae called with a weary sigh, making her turn on her heel and look at him with those large Bambi eyes of hers that apparently had long ago lost their effect on him. Sungjae stood looking at her with his arms crossed over the chest, eyes hard as he regarded her with a raised brow.

“I would say she isn’t getting enough of you-know-what, but knowing you-“ Minah was interrupted by Sungjae’s severe sounding voice.

“Minah you can’t just barge in here without respect for boundaries,” Sungjae said, his lips twisted in disapproval.

“Boundaries?” Minah asked, eyelashes fluttering “I thought you agreed to be my friend”

“Yes, but Ashleigh doesn’t want to be your friend” Sungjae’s voice softened “Nor she wants to be reminded we were friends”

“I think you’re using friends as a euphemism, but I mean actual friends” Minah pursed her lips and then stared at Sungjae with something that resembled to pleading eyes, for a brief moment. But of course, Minah was a Delacroix, so her expression shifted automatically, turning a tad reproaching.

“Minah, you can’t expect Ashleigh to be cool after all you put her through”

Minah rolled eyes at that. What about what Ashleigh had put her through?

“You need to give us some space” Sungjae didn’t look amused, nor he’d sounded so serious ever before.

Minah took it as a cue for her to leave.

Sungjae’s Christmas present

“What is all of this?” Tara asked following Tyler into his office. The room smelled like an odd mix of cigars, fine chocolate, and scotch so she regarded Minah, who was sitting at her desk with an arrangement of colorfully wrapped gifts, with wariness.

“It’s the season to show our clients how much we appreciate them” Minah handed a list to Tara and Tyler as they sat across from her on a recently shipped Grand Model Sofa from Le Corbusier. “And to show our competitor’s clients what they’re missing out” she smiled proudly.

“Are we hosting another party?” Tyler asked confused, without even sparing a glance at the list.

“People forget parties as soon as their hangover fades” Minah was probably speaking from her own experience at the launch party but Tara nodded in agreement. “If we can butter up my family’s clients with a memorable present, maybe some of them will be willing to meet with us”

Tyler and Tara shared skeptical looks, but Minah was too busy sorting through the gifts on her desk to notice.

“Now, if you look through the list you can see some of the options-”

“Tara will help,” Tyler said giving a quick glance and losing interest the moment he noticed there were like 20 items on it “Choosing presents is exhausting, I can only deal with it once a year”

“Fine” Minah shrugged, concealing the disappointment in her voice quite well. She’d been under the impression Tyler wanted to pick the gifts for their clients himself, but she figured out the meeting with the gift strategists that morning hadn’t gone quite as planned. “Anyway, my family usually hands the gifts at their Tree Lighting Ceremony, so I guess we could send ours next week at the latest” she added, discarding all the items she’d been planning to show Tyler and putting them back in their respective bags.

“So you’re going to the Lighting Ceremony?” Tyler stood up and asked “casually”, which earned him an eye roll from his sister.

“Of course I am, I’m a Delacroix after all” Minah said distractedly.

“Wanna go together?” Tyler’s invitation made Minah and Tara stop on their tracks and slowly turn to look at him with matching looks of disbelief.

“Well…” Minah started, clearly flustered “I usually go with Sungjae” Tyler’s obvious reaction was to roll eyes while Tara’s face morphed into a grimace that looked like a charade clue for the WTF expletive. “But I figured out his girlfriend wouldn’t like that” Minah went on, picking her bag from the ottoman next to her desk as a new realization hit in. “You know what? I got the best idea for Sungjae’s Christmas present this year” She jumped to her feet enthusiastically.

“Space?” Tara asked, giving Minah a slightly cold judgmental look.

“No” Minah shook her head “I am going to make a new friend”

“Who?” Tyler blinked confused.

“Please don’t say-“ Tara started.

“Ashleigh,” Minah and Tara said in unison, their voices differing in tone.

—

It took Minah an hour to navigate through London’s traffic and make it to Ashleigh’s office on the 30th floor of some North London tower that once upon a time had been considered one of the ugliest architectural pieces in the city, but it had been revamped with vertical gardens that made an important ecological statement as much as they helped it to save face.

Minah had to take a deep breath before walking through the doors of IN-Eco Corp and remind herself that she was only there to show Sungjae how much she actually cared about him and that she was willing to do anything to keep him in her life. She would go as far as to call a truce with Ashleigh. Even if that implicitly conveyed a sign of weakness.

When Minah stepped into Ashleigh’s office she was on the phone complaining about a sponsor drawing back from a contract and how it would affect the company’s organic cotton farming project in Peru, but she was quick to finish the call as soon as she saw Minah.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt” Minah apologized insincerely. Actually, she’d meant to and she was glad Ashleigh picked the hint. “But, I brought you an invitation to the Annual Delacroix Tree Lighting Ceremony” Minah flipped her hair over her shoulder with one hand and pulled a red envelope from her clutch with her other.

“The Tree Lighting might be hosted by your family, but Sungjae is an employee and I’m going as his date, why would I need your invitation?” Ashleigh said, getting up from her desk. “Why are you really here, Minah?” Minah didn’t miss the way Ashleigh pronounced her name —the way someone would pronounce some offensive word.

“Sungjae is my friend and you’re his girlfriend” Minah started, trying not to react at the way Ashleigh moved her hands as if encouraging her to go on and stop repeating the obvious. “So it stands to reason that you and I are gonna run into each other a lot-”

“Is that a threat?” The blonde cut Minah off.

“No” Minah heaved a sigh, thinking about the lengths she’d go to make Sungjae happy with a strange sense of concern and mortification. “I'm just saying we all should be friends for all of our sakes”

“So in other words, you want me to make it more convenient for you to spend time with my man?” Ashleigh raised her brows incredulous. Minah almost let out a chuckle at the fact Ashleigh referred to Sungjae as “her man”, but she had the sense to stop herself.

“Ashleigh, listen, this is not just about Sungjae” Minah offered her a fleeting smile “I would be the first one to admit that I could use a girl friend” Ashleigh laughed as though she couldn’t believe her ears. “Come on, Ashleigh, you’re making things more complicated than they need to be” Minah went on “It’s not like Sungjae and I were even in love” Ashleigh expression hardened upon registering those words “It was just office sex and booty calls”

“Tell that to him” Ashleigh glared at Minah

“Wait, what? Did he say it was more than sex?” Minah attempted to sound casual but was quick to realize Ashleigh wasn't fooled by her cool exterior and was picking up on her lingering excitement.

“And that is exactly why we can’t be friends” Ashleigh fumed, opening the glass door for Minah to leave.

Trying to move on

“Why are you still bothering that poor girl?” Tara inquired sternly, looking at Minah through her pair of frameless Chopard glasses. For someone as lenient as her, Tara seemed quite exasperated

“Well…“ Minah, sitting on the Pierre Frey rug, supported her left elbow on the sofa and placed her hand upon the chin. The two girls had been sitting in one of the lounge rooms on the second floor, supposedly working, but of course, they’d lost their track after Minah decided to share her visit to Northern London with Tara. “I thought that if I tried to be friends with her-“ Minah looked up from the list in her hands, sincerity radiating from her big hazel eyes, something Tara would’ve given Minah credit for if she had not been too busy frowning at her.

“Let-it-go, Min” Tyler’s sister clicked her tongue as though Minah had not spoken. “Close the door and let’s focus on this before Tyler gets back here. We’ll talk about this later when I have Jane backing me up”

Minah rolled her eyes. Tara was really not fun at all ever since she started hanging out with that Mark Yang boy.

“Well, Envoûté is supposed to be super innovative and eco-friendly” Tara started

“Well, if we go with tech it has to be cutting edge, something everybody wants” Minah meditated, her eyes straying briefly to the strong fire blazing in the fireplace

“So why don’t we give them that headphone-headband hybrid, but we make it couture?” Tara suggested.

“Here’s a tip, you can never go wrong with rum,” Daniel said entering the room, a glass with something that looked like a Negroni in his hands.

“Tell that to your parents, Daniel” Minah scoffed. “Look, this is a work zone, for people with jobs”

“Jobs where you can wear pajamas all day?” Daniel said, eyeing Minah up and down and looking at her silk set with reproving eyes. “Sign me up”

“Charlotte Casiraghi wore this last week!” Minah explained to Tara, almost scandalized Daniel was suggesting she was wearing pajamas. “You’ve clearly picked Americans’ bad taste, assuming you ever had it, of course,” Minah spat angrily.

“Whatever, I didn’t come here to comment on your clothes” Daniel started, eyes narrowing to slits ��Though I would absolutely change before meeting the cutie that’s waiting for you downstairs” He shrugged before turning around ready to leave.

“Wait! Who is it?” Tara asked curiously.

“I think his name is Seojun” Daniel didn’t deign to look back at the girls before walking away.

“Sungjae?” Minah and Tara exchanged incredulous looks.

____

Ten minutes later Minah walked down the marble staircase into the entrance hall of Tyler’s home. It was a given that Minah Delacroix was always beautiful without even trying, but she looked almost ethereal dressed in white ruffled silk shorts and a bodice with thin straps that barely held the piece of fabric in place and showed more cleavage than her family would deem appropriate for someone of her status. Then there was the fact her hair gleamed against her clothes, spilling down her shoulders in loose waves.

Sungjae had to gulp and look away when she stood in front of him, eyes boring into his.

“What are you doing here?” She questioned, still feeling bitter about their last meeting.

“Well, you don’t seem to understand boundaries, so why should I?” Sungjae’s voice was tense as if he were keeping himself contained within his body. “Why did you go see Ashleigh?” His jaw clenched.

Minah snorted. “I was adulting. All I did was inviting her to the Tree Lighting Ceremony and she kicked me out of her office” She said, giving slow steps, trying to draw closer to Sungjae.

“I told you to give us space and you tried to sabotage my date?” Sungjae shook his head, tongue in cheek as if he couldn’t believe Minah was as tone-deaf.

“What?” Minah’s snort was equal parts confused and offended, she stared at Sungjae, eyes widening and mouth pressed into a fine line. “Wait, you’re taking her to the Tree Lighting?” Her voice was accusing and momentarily she allowed herself to look hurt. “But that’s our thing. I mean-” Of course Minah briefly forgot there was no such a thing as “we” —as in Minah and Sungjae— any more and by extension, there were no traditions for them to keep either, but the thought was so painful that she still went on. She needed a clear response “We always go together-” she trailed off.

“Minah, these boundaries aren’t just for Ashleigh” Sungjae said gravely, “They’re for me” He took a few steps forward, the heels of his dress shoes slightly clicked against the marble floor and before he noticed, he was standing face to face with Minah, so close she could even count his lashes. “I can’t keep doing this every day” Minah recognized the same tone he used the morning after he slept with Ashleigh. “I think about you when I shouldn’t and I need to get you out of my head before we fall back into what we had”

The tension between them was so thick Minah almost felt she couldn't pull air into her lungs. Sungjae’s words echoed through the ample hall and its almost 30-foot ceilings, causing Minah to shudder ever so slightly.

When she finally gathered the courage to speak, Minah felt like facepalming herself. Her breath shook as she parted her lips. “Would- would that be so wrong?” she asked, her hand moving to hold Sungjae’s before her brain could even process what she was doing.

“Yes” Sungjae watched their hands and briefly squeezed Minah’s in something that was probably meant to be a comforting and warm touch, but that only made Minah’s heart tremble in ache. “I’m trying to move on”

And with that Sungjae stormed out of the Lee Manor.

Meanwhile, Minah remained in the same spot, her stomach twisting in pain as she swallowed once, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“You startled me” Just when she was about to indulge in tears, the doors of the manor flung open and Tyler strolled in, clearly surprised to find Minah there, all dolled up. His eyes automatically settled on the curves of her breasts and the glowy skin of her cleavage.

“I- I was-“ Minah heard herself stammer “I was waiting for you to come home” she blatantly lied.

“Why?” Tyler licked his lips almost unconsciously

“I figured out I never gave you an answer” Minah smiled at him fondly, but he looked a bit confused, so she clarified “Do you still want to go to that Tree Lighting together?”

Tyler raised a brow for a fraction of a second, but then he threw a furtive appreciative glance at Minah and smirked, nodding his head.

Why would she ask such obvious questions was beyond him.

...

#oc #story #minah #sungjae #tyler #tara #daniel #lucas #ashleigh #dynasty au

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iamartemisday · 4 years

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Merry Christmas, Ms Foster! Day Seven

It turned out, everyone got a gift on Christmas Eve.

Jomungandr flipped through a book about Andy Warhol while Sif kissed the life out of Thor for her new pair of personalized boxing gloves. Darcy, who even Ian would’ve admitted was hard to shop for, seemed perfectly content with a thousand dollar gift card signed by Loki. Hela had already printed out two dozen photos on her new printer, one of which Fenrir stepped on as he flew his drone around the cabin. Frigga and Odin admired the keepsake boxes the triplets had made for them. Off to the side by the mirror, Jane helped Bucky into the new winter coat she’d bought him.

“How much did you spend on this?” he asked.

“No more than I spent on anyone else,” she said. “So what did you get me?”

“Remember back when all you wanted was a scientist Barbie for Christmas and your dad forgot to buy it?”

“Yeah.”

“Turns out, they don’t make those anymore.”

Jane rolled her eyes as he laughed and pulled her into a hug. They rejoined the party, Jane finding a spot by the fireplace to watch the kids play. So far, no one had started any fights, though if Fenrir ran over Hela’s pictures one more time, he might just get that drone thrown in his face. Someone had jazzy Christmas music playing on the flat screen. Jane tapped her foot to the beat, scanning the room for any sign of Loki.

She hadn’t seen him since the first present was opened.

Her trip into town had taken longer than she’d hoped. First a deer jumped in front of their car. Jane’s heart was still racing from that one. Then it took three separate stops to find exactly what she was looking for. Hallmark movies, among other things, had lied through their teeth about small mountain towns. All they had here were apathetic store owners tired from the holiday rush and a Starbucks. Finally the last owner tried to upcharge her twenty percent, and it was only Jane’s staunch refusal to be cheat that saved her from losing money. Bucky standing right behind her glaring at the guy might’ve also helped a little.

But that was all over and she had what she needed. Now she just had to find her giftee.

She checked the kitchen first. That seemed to be his sanctuary whenever Thor got especially exuberant or if he just wanted a moment alone. When he wasn’t in there, she headed downstairs. The pool was empty, as was the gym. He wasn’t in his bedroom either, though his keys were still on the nightstand.

Now she wandered back into the party. Thor and Sif had the kids together in a game of blind man’s bluff, laughing as a blindfolded Darcy snatched at the air a foot above Fenrir’s head.

“Your echolocation sucks,” he said, sidestepping another fruitless thrash of Darcy’s arm.

“Keep talking, kid, I’ll knock all your Santa hunting gear out the window!”

The chase continued as Jane’s eyes moved to the back window. A shadow on the trees made her look closer. It was Loki, standing in the middle of the snow, arms crossed, staring into the night like a watchman guarding against invaders. Jane kept him in her line of sight as she took her coat off the rack and walked outside. Wind slapped her across the face and sent her hair flying. She wrapped her arms around herself and kept walking.

Loki didn’t turn around. “Don’t you want to enjoy the festivities?”

She stood beside him. “Don’t you?”

“I will,” he said. He blew out a mouthful of air. “Sometimes I wish to be alone to think.”

“Alone outside in the middle of winter.”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m glad you understand.”

Jane chuckled. She wasn’t as cold as she was a moment ago. It was like he radiated warmth. “Did you like your present?”

She had given him a crochet scarf. Knowing that he was a billionaire and could easily by a hundred of whatever she got him, Jane had tossed aside all feelings of insecurity and bought him something she’d got for any male friend(?). He wore it now around his neck, tucked into his coat. That had to be a good sign.

“It is very useful,” he said. “You chose well.”

If that was the closest she’d get to a ‘thank you’ she’d take it. “Good, because I have one more thing for you.”

Loki turned his head as Jane reached into her pocket. “I thought we all agreed one present each.”

“This isn’t for Christmas,” she said, taking out a small wrapped box with a bow on top. For once, she was proud of her wrapping skills. “Happy Birthday.”

Loki eyed her, like he thought this was a trap and she’d pull a gun out any second. He took the box was some token hesitation and slid his finger through the tape. All the paper fell away, revealing a red and white box with a Christmas tree design. Inside the window, a larger cat cuddled with three kittens. All four wore green and red hats, scarves, and mittens. It was hard to tell inside a box, but a button on the back played a tinkling lullaby rendition of Silent Night.

“It was a tradition for my parents,” Jane said. “Every year, they’d give each other a new ornament for the tree. Mom said it was because they were each other’s most special person.”

He looked at her. “Are you trying to imply something?”

She shrugged. “Not really. I know we’ve only known each other for a few months and… well, we did get off to a rocky start, but you are someone very special, Loki. Your whole family is. And I’m glad I get to spend Christmas with you guys. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Loki swallowed. He opened the box and held the ornament to the light. One of the kittens sat on the father cat’s head while the other two cuddled close. All of them wore peaceful smiles. They were together and nothing else mattered.

“I know you’re wondering why I didn’t tell you,” he said.

“Hela told me you said you would,” Jane replied.

He nodded. “I did consider it, don’t think I didn’t. There are just things about my life you don’t know. Things I may decide to tell you one day, but for now… well, in truth, I’ve never liked to think about the day of my birth.”

Jane took his hand. It happened involuntarily, but even after she came to her senses, she couldn’t let go. She didn’t really want to. “Even if you don’t, your kids love you so much. Your family loves you. I think even Bucky might almost be okay with you now.”

“The feeling is not mutual,” he said, but with a faint half-smile.

“What I mean is, even if you don’t want to celebrate your birthday, you deserve the recognition,” Jane said. “You’re a great father, and not too bad a person either.”

They shared a long, lingering look (‘this is the part where sappy music plays and the kiss happens you know…’). Loki’s other hand came to rest on top their clasped ones. Jane bit her lip. He appeared to be staring at them, but then he glanced at a patch of bushes by the treeline

“Did you know that’s a mistletoe plant?”

Jane started to laugh, but he did not. “Wait, seriously?”

“It would be a strange thing to lie about if I was,” he said. If Jane didn’t know better, she’d think he was getting closer.

“Well, it sounds like you meant to pick that and nail it to the ceiling,” she said, leaning in just a bit. “You know that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“It must have slipped my mind.” He lowered his head.

“I guess so,” Jane could feel his breath on her face. “We both have a lot to think about.”

Her eyes fluttered. If there was ever a time to stop it was now. Everything was so warm…

“DAD!”

They jumped apart. Jormungandr ran through the snow, tripping twice, but never stopping.

“What is it, son?” Loki stopped to fix his hair before Jormungandr grabbed him.

“We did it! We did it, Dad! We found Santa!”

He dragged Loki inside, Jane following close behind. Hela and Fenrir were at their stations. Their equipment was alive with lights and alarm bells. On the screen, Santa soared across the sky in a red sleigh, eight Reindeer running on air, guiding him through the night. With a mighty ‘Ho-ho-ho’, Santa sped out of view, but the minute of footage the children had gotten was enough for them.

“We did it!” Hela jumped into Jane’s arms and hugged her around the neck. “We did it! We did it!”

“You did,” Jane said, hugging her back. “I’m so proud of you guys.”

They danced around the room, pulling the adults into the festivities. Even Fenrir was on his feet, pulling Darcy into a spin. Jane put Hela down so she could hug her grandma next, then gave Loki a smirk.

“So did you pay a guy to dress a plane up like a sleigh,” she asked, “or was some kind of hologram?”

Loki smirked right back. “I don’t know what you mean, dear Jane. It’s like you don’t believe in Christmas miracles.”

Someone else might’ve wanted to slap him for that. Jane got up on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Loki.”

He turned his head abruptly. Their lips brushed. “Merry Christmas, Jane.”

In the morning, Jane was up before anyone else. She walked into the living room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Presents were piled under the tree for the kids and adults alike to devour. A multitude of decorations glittered in the early sun, including one new decoration settled right under the silver star.

Jane reached up carefully and pressed the button. Silent Night played as she stood back, watching the little cats sleep.

“So this is how my Christmas special goes,” Jane murmured, smiling at Loki’s door. “I think it’s been pretty good.”

#Lokane #Loki #Jane Foster #Lokane Week #Lokane Week Holiday Celebration

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prissyhalliwell · 5 years

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A Tradition to Remember

This is my @rumbellechristmasinjuly gift for @jenitosam! This story is inspired by her prompt (cozy, holiday, feast, happy ending) and her adorable Rumbelle fan art!

Summary: A book club is only as good as the book it reads. Belle has no idea how important her choice will become. I Read on AO3

_______________________________________________________________

Storybrooke, Present Day

Mr. Gold stared at the cover of the deep emerald book, the gold embossed print jumping off the cover as if mocking him.

Her Handsome Hero

Gold snorted. What utter rubbish.

He glanced up from his armchair as Belle French, Storybrooke’s irresistible librarian, walked into his living room, bringing with her two steaming cups of tea from the kitchen.

“So,” she said, giving him a warm smile as she passed him a cup and gestured at the book in his hands, “what do you think?”

Gold bit back his first comment, not wanting to insult Belle’s choice of book. It would hardly be the best way to start this new chapter of their friendship.

Pun intended, of course.

When Belle had first asked him to start a book club with her, he’d initially been delighted. They’d had many chats about literature over the years, often while he was checking out new reading material or she was perusing his shop’s antique book collection. The chance to make these interactions more regular was a very agreeable one, especially during Storybrooke’s long winter months. The idea of being cozy and huddled up in front of a fire with Belle - he had insisted on holding these chats at his house instead of her drafty old apartment above the library or worse yet, in the even draftier library itself - was even more appealing.

The only downside so far seemed to be the reading material itself. He’d spent years carefully crafting his reputation as Storybrooke’s resident monster. If word got out that the fearsome Mr. Gold not only attended a book club, but one that was reading a book called “Her Handsome Hero”, he’d be laughed out of town.

“Perhaps we could start with another book?” Gold asked hopefully, as Belle settled into the matching armchair next to his. “I’m sure one of the classics would do nicely. What about Dickens?” At the shake of Belle’s head, he felt a bit of panic creep into his voice. “One of the Brontës? I’d even be open to Austen…”

She placed a reassuring hand on his knee. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

He grunted, ignoring the warmth of her hand as it seeped through his trousers and into his leg, leaving the skin beneath tingling. “Care to make a wager on that?”

She chuckled. “I promise it’s more intriguing once you open the cover.”

“I fail to see how anything with a title like this could be intriguing,” Gold grumbled. “Sounds more like a trashy romance or some horrible made-for-TV movie.”

“It’s not like that!” Belle protested. “I read the first few chapters the other day before I realized it was perfect for us.” She scooted her chair several inches closer to his and dropped her voice conspiratorially. “This book is actually a mystery!”

He looked at the cover doubtfully. “Does the butler kill the handsome hero? That would certainly be an enjoyable twist.”

Belle shook her head. “No, I mean the actual book itself is a mystery! I found it in the middle of the Reference section, wedged between two out-of-date atlases. It’s not in the card catalog or the computer system. I even tried to look it up online. As far as the internet is concerned, this book doesn’t even exist!”

Now that was intriguing. He set his tea down and looked at the book more closely. It was clearly very old, but was still in pristine shape, despite being lost between the stacks for who knows how many years. He had many antique books that he sold for hundreds of dollars each that were in worse shape than this.

The cover’s illustrations were still clear and unfaded, an intricate gold border around the book’s edge and an image of a proud-looking knight with long, flowing locks that irritated Gold for some reason he couldn’t name.

He flipped through the first few pages, but there was nothing there to help him either. No publisher, no date, not even a dedication to some beloved family member. The pages simply jumped straight into the story, starting with the ever so cliche “Once upon a time…”

He was about to comment on this when something Belle had said finally registered to him.

“Does this mean you only have one copy?” he asked, realizing for the first time that she had only brought one book.

Belle’s cheeks turned a fetching color of pink. “I’m afraid so. We’ll have to share and um...take turns reading out loud to each other.”

Now it was Gold’s turn to go a bit pink. He could feel his face heat up and hoped his blush wasn’t as obvious as Belle’s.

Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about, he told himself. It’s not like Belle had suggested anything indecent. But somehow, the idea of reading out loud to each other just sounded rather...intimate.

Gold wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Or how he felt about reading aloud. He wouldn’t mind hearing Belle’s beautiful, lilting Australian accent, but there was nothing appealing about his own accent - not fully Americanized, but no longer truly Scottish after all these years - that Belle could want to hear.

She clearly had not thought this idea all the way through.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he returned to a safer topic. “Well, if it’s not tasteless drivel, then what is it about?” he asked, handing her back the book.

Belle’s eyes lit up. “From what I’ve read already, it’s definitely a fantasy novel, but the main focus is on the values of compassion and forgiveness - the qualities that truly make a hero.” She smiled reassuringly. “So definitely not a trashy romance.”

Gold felt slightly mollified. “I suppose that sounds slightly better. I didn’t really figure you for the type to read cheap romance novels.”

A slight blush colored Belle’s cheeks once again. Gold grinned. “Well, at least not in a book club then.”

“Oh, you!” Belle smacked his leg playfully with the book. “You’re terrible.”

His grin widened. “Perhaps you should kick me out of the club in punishment. Who knows what trouble I’ll cause?”

He gave her his most mischievous smile. Belle didn’t even blink.

“That’s exactly why you have to stay. It’s much easier to keep you out of trouble if I can keep an eye on you.” She flipped open the book. “Now, shall we begin?”

Gold sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.

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

Enchanted Forest, 28 Years Ago

If Rumplestiltskin had thought his Yuletide tradition of stubbornly refusing to celebrate the holiday would be permitted to continue once Belle arrived in his life, he was sorely disappointed.

The Great Hall had been decked in more festivity than it had seen in the last 300 years combined. Candles had been added to every available surface that his interfering maid could reach. Their soft light gave the Great Hall added warmth, and the holly and berries that Belle had festively arranged around them added a bit of color to the room.

Rumplestiltskin hated it.

His entire home had become redecorated for Yuletide, barely resembling the dreary space he had inhabited for so many years. Everything was festive, except for the master of the castle, and he felt woefully out of place in his own home.

He supposed it was his own fault for not putting his foot down when Belle had hung up the very first mistletoe. But how could he have known that it would get this out of control so quickly?

It was the only explanation he could find for why he now found himself staring down at a book that a beaming Belle held out to him excitedly.

“This has been my favorite book since I was a child,” she explained proudly. “My mother and I used to read it together all the time.”

“Ah,” Rumplestiltskin said awkwardly, noticing the title and the picture of the heroic knight etched on the cover. “How...fitting.”

Either Belle didn’t catch the sarcasm in his tone or she chose to ignore it. “I thought we could read it during our Yuletide celebration.” A spot of pink appeared on her cheeks. “You know, to pass the time, especially on these long winter nights…”

“I see.” Rumplestiltskin stared at the title, his imagination already running wild with speculation. “I’m well aware of your love of books, but...well, this seems like it might be a little uh...risque for a young lady.”

Belle’s lips trembled as she tried to keep back a smile. “You’re worried about a book corrupting me?”

“I just think it would be frowned upon for a noblewoman such as yourself - ”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Rumple, if you were worried about my reputation, you probably shouldn’t have whisked me off to live with you in your castle after insinuating that you were well-endowed.”

Rumplestiltskin blanched. “Ah, you understood that, did you?”

“Yes, and it was very wicked of you.” Belle’s tone was reproving but the merriment in her eyes gave her true feelings away.

“Wicked, you say?” Rumplestiltskin scratched his chin. “Well, seems only fair that I should be punished then.”

Belle’s eyes grew as wide as tea saucers. “Punished?” she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.

“Oh yes. I should go organize my lab immediately in penance.”

Belle let out the breath she had been holding with a laugh. “Oh, Rumple. You really are terrible.” She dropped the book gently into his lap. “But you’re not going anywhere. If you insist on being punished, we have the perfect instrument of torture right here.”

Rumplestiltskin groaned. It was going to be a long Yuletide.

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

Two days into reading the book, Rumplestiltskin’s view had still not changed. If anything, it had gotten worse.

“This is absolutely ridiculous!” he huffed, slamming the book shut.

Belle crossed her arms, openly glaring at him. “What’s so ridiculous about it, may I ask?”

That list was quite long in his opinion, but he decided to start with his biggest complaint. “The hero, for one! This moron is so obsessed with looking brave that he walks straight into danger at every available opportunity.” Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. “He barely takes a breath after hearing there’s a dragon in a lair before racing off to fight it.”

“Perhaps you’re just jealous that you’ve never slayed a dragon,” Belle said dryly.

He gave her a wide smile, full of teeth. “I am the dragon, dearie.”

Instead of being intimidated as he’d hoped, she merely patted his leg consolingly. “Of course you are, Rumple.” Her eyes danced with amusement. “An extremely grumpy one.”

He pointed a taloned-finger at her. “Don’t be cheeky. Or I might just conjure up the giant spider from your book and feed you to it.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Belle’s eyes grew wide. “You hate spiders even more than I do.”

“What? That’s just...ridiculous,” Rumplestiltskin stammered. “I’ve never even - where’d you get such a silly idea?” He leaned forward, coming nose to nose with her. “Who have you been talking to?”

Belle burst into peals of laughter, throwing her head back in glee. “Oh, if you could see your face right now!” She held her side, her belly continuing to shake with laughter.

Rumplestiltskin glared at her through narrowed eyes. “If you figure out how to control yourself, I’ll be upstairs in my lab.”

Before he could snap his fingers and disappear, Belle reached out a hand to stop him, her giggles slowly subsiding to an occasional hiccup. “No, wait. I’ll behave, I promise. Let’s keep reading.”

Slightly mollified, Rumplestiltskin opened the book and began reading where he had left off earlier.

It was only hours later in his lab, well after Belle had gone to bed for the night, that he realized how easily she had distracted him from his complaints about the book and deftly maneuvered him back into reading it again in mere minutes.

A slight smile curled on his lips. It seemed he had underestimated that maid of his once again.

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

The other mystery, which was why Belle was so insistent on reading the book with him in the first place, finally came to him after several days of intense pondering. In hindsight, he realized how slow he had been to figure it out, since it was clearly the only logical conclusion.

“Ah ha, I’ve got you!” He declared from his seat at his spinning wheel, causing Belle to jump where she had been placing the tea things on the Great Hall’s dining table.

“Wha-what?” she asked, flustered.

He sprang up from the spinning wheel and began to stalk towards her. “I’ve figured out why you wanted to read that book with me.”

Belle blushed. “Oh?”

She was holding her hands together tightly, as if she was nervous about his discovery. But surely Belle knew he wouldn’t hurt her after all this time? Even if he found her joke to be in poor taste. Not that his feelings were hurt, of course. He didn’t care what anyone thought about him, even if he liked Belle more than most people. Knowing what she thought of him was actually very helpful, now that he thought about it. And it’s not like others hadn’t called him far worse.

“Yes, yes, dearie. The parallels are quite obvious, even for an old fool like myself.”

“Parallels?” Belle frowned. “I don’t understand.”

He waved her denial away dismissively. “It’s no use denying it. The sorcerer Gideon met earlier in the book is obviously evil and has been the one pulling the strings all along. Undoubtedly, they’ll face off in a final battle in the end of the story.” He touched his hand to his chest and gave a mocking bow. “I’m sure you couldn’t help but be reminded of him when you met me.”

Belle’s eyes grew wide in understanding. She rushed towards him, catching him off guard as she grabbed his hands in hers.

“You have it all wrong. I’ve never seen you that way.” At his doubtful look, she paused. “Alright, maybe for the first few days...but to be fair, you were purposely trying to be horrible to scare me!”

Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to argue, but Belle plunged on.

“But I know the real you now, Rumplestiltskin. The sorcerer in that book is nothing like you. He’s pure evil, without any feeling or compassion for anyone or anything else.” She stepped a half step closer towards him. “I know that’s not you.”

His mouth felt dry. He should really snatch his hands away from hers. Her palms were warm where they held his between them and her skin was softer than he could have imagined.

“I’ve done many evil things in my life,” he said, trying to stop her from looking at him the way she was now, her eyes shining with something much brighter than friendship.

“I know,” Belle said, still holding his gaze. “I can’t say I approve of all of the decisions you’ve made, but doing bad things doesn’t mean there’s not good in you too.”

“So you didn’t want me to read the book because I reminded you of the evil sorcerer?” Rumplestiltskin asked stupidly.

Belle smiled up at him shyly. “It’s actually the opposite in fact.”

Now it was his turn to frown. “The opposite? Who else in the book could I remind you of?”

A blush began to spread across Belle’s cheeks. She looked on the verge of saying something, but then changed her mind.

“Tea!” she exclaimed, dropping his hands and turning back to the table. “It’s going to get cold if we don’t drink it.”

“Belle, I have magic. I can always just - ”

But Belle had already walked back to the table and was raising the cup to her lips.

He sighed and walked over to join her, picking up his chipped cup and cradling it in his hand.

Perhaps one day he’d uncover the mystery that was Belle of Avonlea. Until then, the only thing he’d be getting to the bottom of was his tea cup.

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

Despite all his complaints, Rumplestiltskin was actually a little sad when Belle turned to the last page of the book a few evenings later. Not that he was going to admit that to her, of course. The Dark One had his pride, after all.

It was the last night of Yuletide and they had just finished a delicious feast that the Dark Castle had prepared for them. With their stomachs full of roast hen, pork sausages, and bread pudding, they had settled in their now customary spot on the settee in front of the fireplace to read the last chapter of the book.

Rumplestiltskin had opened some of his most prized red wine from his cellars, which Belle had barely touched because she was so caught up in reading the ending.

“With the evil sorcerer defeated at last, Gideon returned home to his village, grateful to be reunited with his family. Confident that his homeland was no longer in danger, he hung up his sword and shield, content to live a simple life with those he loved for the rest of his days.”

“Let me guess,” Rumplestiltskin interrupted. “He lived happily ever after?”

Belle looked up from the book, quelling him with one look. “If you don’t let me finish, you won’t find out, will you?”

He pretended to pout, but did as she said. Despite being fairly certain about the ending, he did want to hear her read it.

Not that he cared about the fate of the brave Gideon. But since he had already put in so much time reading the book, it only made sense to finish it.

Obviously.

“Gideon’s countrymen welcomed him home, throwing a giant feast in his honor. Whenever anyone asked about the qualities that made a hero, Gideon would simply smile and say, with all modesty, ‘Anyone can be a hero. You must only do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’”

Rumplestiltskin pretended to yawn. “Boring.”

Belle ignored him and continued reading.

“With his family by his side and his memories to guide him, our hero Gideon…” She paused, her lips quirking upwards. “...lived happily ever after.”

“I knew it!”

Belle tried to look annoyed at him, but ended up bursting into laughter a moment later. “Yes, you’re very clever, Rumple.”

He tapped his nose knowingly. “It’s the second sight.”

She looked unimpressed. “Or the fact that most stories have a happy ending.”

Rumplestiltskin gave her a wolf-like grin. “Clearly you’ve been reading the unimaginative stories.”

Belle smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “Admit it, you liked the book.”

“I didn’t not like it.”

She giggled, pulling her feet up onto the settee. Drawn in by her laugh as if it was a siren’s call, he leaned closer.

“I suppose that’ll do,” she said. “For now.”

They were close. Closer than they had been since he had held her in his arms that day she’d fallen from the ladder. It hadn’t been that long ago, and yet, so much had changed since then.

Even himself.

“Thank you, Belle,” he said finally.

She looked at him curiously. “For what?”

For being herself. For accepting him. For everything.

“For...bringing a bit of Yuletide spirit into the castle.” He wasn’t willing to admit to her just how much it had meant to have her there, especially during the holiday. It was the first time since Bae had left that he’d had someone to celebrate with. “It’s been many years since I last enjoyed Yuletide this much.”

Belle blushed. “Well, I’m glad I could help. It would be a pity if you couldn’t enjoy yourself a little.” She nodded towards the book. “You’ve been so good to humor me by reading my favorite book with me.”

Now it was Rumplestiltskin’s turn to blush. “It’s no matter. I actually haven’t minded…” Seeing the smirk that began to form on Belle’s lips, he hurriedly added, “...that much.”

His addition didn’t seem to deter Belle’s happiness in the least. Perhaps she had spent enough time around him by now that she could tell his heart wasn’t in the teasing.

“I’m so glad! I was thinking, maybe it could become a new tradition for us?”

Rumplestiltskin fought the urge to roll his eyes. Yuletide wasn’t even over and Belle was already planning for next year!

Then again, he supposed it was nice to think that she was already looking forward to spending another Yuletide with him. He could count the people who had looked forward to spending time with him on one hand. It made him happy that Belle was one of them.

However, that didn’t mean he would miss the opportunity to tease her about it.

“You? Want to make reading at Yuletide a tradition?” He put his hand to his heart and twisted his face into a look of surprise. “I’m shocked.”

“Oh hush.” Belle gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder, trying to suppress a smile and failing miserably. “I actually meant that we should make reading “Her Handsome Hero” at Yuletide our tradition.” Her eyes danced with merriment. “I fully intend to continue making you read most nights with me as well.”

Rumplestiltskin let out a deep sigh, throwing his hand over his face. “My life is only struggle.”

Giggling, she leaned forward and pried his hand away. Suddenly, they were face to face, Belle holding his hand between her two smaller ones. He became aware of the soft skin of her hands pressed against his, and a tingling sensation that was spreading through his fingers.

“I, uh…” Rumplestiltskin seemed at a loss for words. Belle was not magical, yet she had the power to reduce him to a babbling fool. “Your hands are very soft.”

“Are they?” Belle licked her lips, leaning even closer. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Well...they are.” He gulped. “Maybe you should hold them sometime.”

Belle stopped an inch in front of his face, her face wrinkling adorably in confusion.

“Rumple?”

If he leaned even the littlest bit forward, he could capture those delectable lips between his.

“Yes, Belle?”

“Stop talking.”

Before he could argue, Belle closed the space between them herself, pressing her lips against his own.

His eyes fluttered closed automatically, all thought fading away as Belle filled his senses. Everything was heightened: he could smell the rose-scented bath oils she used on her skin, taste the sweet berries she had eaten earlier that evening, hear the soft sounds she made as she sighed against his lips, and feel her skin vibrating against his own body as she leaned into him.

So caught up in the moment, he didn’t notice the new sensation until it was almost too powerful to ignore. The warm, happy feelings that had been building in his chest were almost completely smothered by an overwhelming need to run. Only when he pulled away slightly did he realize what was happening.

Rumplestiltskin wrenched himself away from Belle, knocking himself off the settee in the process and falling to the floor in a jumbled heap.

Belle’s eyes fluttered open. “Wha-what’s wrong?” An embarrassed blush was quickly spreading across her face. Considering his violent reaction, she no doubt believed he was rejecting her. She was right, but not for the reasons she probably thought.

Ignoring her question for the moment, he checked his hands. They were back to their usual green and gold flecked hue, his long fingernails ending once again in black talons. He could feel the magic coursing under his skin, filling him with power and purpose. The Dark One’s curse was intact.

“It’s still here,” he said at last, relief flowing through him. He looked up and saw Belle eyeing him warily, clutching her knees to her chest protectively.

He barely kept back a groan. How in the world was he going to explain this?

Picking himself up off the floor, he cautiously perched on the end of the settee again, not wanting to spook Belle further.

Avoiding her eyes, he began to tell her his story. His sentences were clumsy at first, full of halting, half-finished thoughts, but soon he felt the truth pouring out of him, as he explained to her the nature of his curse, his mission to find Bae, and why - despite the proof that they were True Love - he couldn’t be with her until he was reunited with his son.

Risking a glance at her face, he was relieved to see nothing but compassion there.

“Oh, Rumple,” Belle cried, taking his hand in hers and pulling it into her lap. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.” Once again, Rumplestiltskin marveled at Belle’s loving nature. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve her love, but he would spend every day from now on proving himself worthy of it to her.

“If there’s anything I can do...to help you find your son…”

It took every ounce of restraint for him not to gather her up in his arms and kiss her again.

Since he couldn’t do that, he settled for leaning his forehead against hers.

“Belle, there’s something else I need to tell you. I have a plan to find Bae, but it involves another curse - ”

As if on cue, the doors to the Great Hall flew open and his long-time rival and apprentice, the Evil Queen, strode briskly into the room, stopping abruptly as her eyes fell upon them.

Her expression grew into a malicious grin as she watched them leap apart from each other.

“Excuse me, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin drawled, trying to get the situation back under his control, “but we’re in the middle of - ”

Regina chuckled darkly. “Oh, I can see that.”

“...a feast,” Rumplestiltskin finished.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Regina looked down at her nails. “I must be behind on the current slang.”

Before he could come up with a suitable denial, Regina waved a dismissive hand. “But no matter. I’ve come for the Dark Curse.”

Rumplestiltskin blanched. He had thought he had more time, but he supposed he had gotten sidetracked with everything happening with Belle recently. He should have known Regina would move swiftly in his absence.

Unfortunately, this left him in a bit of a quandary. He had arranged for his own comfort during the curse, but no provision had been made for Belle. Regina would no doubt create a nasty cursed fate for his True Love, for no reason other than to spite him, if he did not intervene.

“About our deal, Regina,” he began slowly. “I’m going to need to make sure that Belle is included in our little arrangement. You see, I’ve grown quite used to having a housekeeper and…”

Regina wasn’t fooled in the least. “No deal, Rumple dear. I can ensure that you’re both fairly comfortable, but not together. Take it or leave it.”

Rumplestiltskin's eyes narrowed as he weighed his options. Regina wasn’t likely to budge on this. He’d taught her too well for his own good.

“I don’t have all day,” she said, tapping the toe of her high-heeled boot in feigned annoyance. “Do we have a deal or not?”

He bared his teeth at her. “I suppose you’ll be wanting this in writing?”

Regina’s face broke into a wide grin. “Of course. The pen is mightier than the sword after all.”

Her words broke through Rumplestiltskin’s frustration and he nearly rocked back on his heels. He barely stopped himself from reacting, as his brain raced wildly with an idea.

It could work. It had to.

“Fine,” he growled at her, summoning a parchment and quill. He began to write hurriedly, ignoring Regina as she stalked over to him to peer over his shoulder.

“Don’t forget the - ”

“I think I can handle it,” Rumplestiltskin snapped. “I do this for a living you know.”

Regina looked rather pleased with herself and he took the opportunity to enact his plan.

He made a point of looking over his shoulder at Belle, who was sitting on the settee with her chin held high in spite of the gravity of the situation. If anyone embodied the virtues of Gideon, it was her.

Heaving a deliberately weary sigh, he looked back at Regina, gesturing helplessly at Belle. “Can’t you do anything for her?” he asked, letting himself sound just the tiniest bit desperate. If Regina thought him a lovesick old fool, then he might as well use that to his advantage.

“I already said she’d be comfortable. What more do you want?”

“I don’t know. I just...well, she loves her books.”

Regina blinked at him. “Books?”

“Yes, they’re these reams of paper bound together -”

“I know what a book is, Rumplestiltskin!” She let out a growl of frustration. “Are you actually asking me to let her take her little book collection along?”

“She really does love them,” he said, knowing how pathetic he sounded.

He exchanged a look with Belle, who seemed to understand, at least on some level, what he was trying to accomplish.

“Books are my true passion,” Belle said suddenly, watching his face for confirmation. “I’d be miserable without them.”

Regina looked to be reaching the limits of her patience. “I’m not wasting magic to transport a castle full of books to the Land Without Magic.”

“More like a library, really.” At Regina’s glare, he backpedaled. “Fine, fine. Can she just keep that one?” He waved a hand at “Her Handsome Hero”, which Belle was clutching tightly. “It’s her favorite. She never shuts up about it. At least give her that much.”

Regina mulled it over for a moment or two before slowly nodding. “Fine, she can keep the book. If only so you’ll shut up about it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, can we get this curse on the road?”

Rumplestiltskin fought back a smile as he finished scribbling out their deal on the parchment. It would be enough.

------------ Storybrooke, Present Day

Gold didn’t often admit to being wrong - not that he was often wrong in the first place - but the book club had ended up being one of the best things to ever happen to him.

More specifically, it was Belle rather than the book club itself that was wonderful, but as the book club was an excuse to spend several hours a week with Belle’s undivided attention, it also was quite nice.

The book had grown on him as well over the past month. Though the characters lived in a fantastical world of magic and dragons, they also felt familiar to him somehow. He’d become invested in their triumphs and failures almost as if they were his own.

Perhaps Belle’s kindness was finally rubbing off on him. Or perhaps this was merely more proof that he needed to get out of the pawnshop more.

Even stranger were the moments when he’d felt certain he’d read the book before. It was a fairly standard fantasy with a heroic protagonist that triumphed over impossible odds, so it was hardly breaking new territory in the literary market. Yet something about it seemed like an old friend to him, bringing him comfort and nostalgia all at the same time.

He wasn’t the only one who experienced these odd moments of déjà vu. Belle swore on the book itself that she had never read it, yet she too admitted that she felt a sense of familiarity with the story that she couldn’t explain.

“Perhaps it’s the company,” she said one day, when they both experienced one of these moments.

He snorted, twirling his cane between his fingers. “I’m sure my company is intellectually stimulating, but I doubt it’s given you magical insight into the book.”

She shook her head in amusement. “No, silly. I meant the sense of familiarity and comfort it brings us. Maybe we’re so content together during our reading sessions that we’re projecting those feelings onto the book.”

No one had every described their interactions with him as bringing them comfort. Normally, it was the exact opposite.

But hearing Belle describe his company in that way sent a shiver of pleasure from his toes to his brain, causing the latter to short circuit temporarily.

“That’s...a possibility,” he said finally.

Thankfully, Belle hadn’t pressed the issue and they had gone back to discussing the latest chapters.

That had been several weeks ago however and they were now nearly finished with the book. They had decided to do something special for the last chapter and had decided to mark the occasion by cracking open a bottle of one of his best vintage wines.

There was an anticipation in the air that Gold was unsure of, but that he felt all the way down to his bones. Belle seemed to feel it too, her eyes flicking back and forth between his face and the pages before her.

“Do you, uh, want to read first?” she asked, her tongue darting out to lick her lips in a way that prevented Gold from responding right away.

“Uh, yes. I can...do that,” he said, still hypnotized by the moisture on her lips. “Read, I mean. This book.”

Belle tried to hide her smile. “Well, I’m glad we’ve established you can read. Especially since it’s the final chapter.”

“Aye,” Gold replied, wishing he had just kept his damn mouth shut. He cleared his throat, taking the book from Belle and opening it to the last chapter.

Time flew by as they were swept up into the action of the story. The epic conclusion of the hero Gideon’s final battle with the evil sorcerer - who in many ways was more familiar to Gold than the protagonist - kept them both enthralled, neither relaxing until Gideon finally defeated his enemy with one final swing of his enchanted sword.

As Gold continued to read of the hero’s warm homecoming, a strange sense of anticipation began welling up inside him. He ignored it, trying to focus on the resolution of the story. There was no reason for him to feel any excitement at this point; all the action had finished and the story was winding down, most likely ending in some trite moral lesson.

“Gideon’s countrymen welcomed him home, throwing a giant feast in his honor,” Gold read, his eyes glancing up to see Belle as captivated as himself, sitting on the edge of her seat.

“Whenever anyone asked about the qualities that made a hero, Gideon would simply smile and say, with all modesty, ‘Anyone can be a hero. You must only do the brave thing and’…” Gold’s vision began to blur, but he fought through it, determined to finish the last page, “...‘bravery will follow.’”

The moment he finished speaking a hot flash of pain ripped through his brain, making him clutch at his forehead in shock. Something was squeezing its way inside his head, worming into his mind. His other hand gripped the book like a lifeline; the sturdy binding the only solid thing he could feel at that moment.

He heard a sharp cry from Belle and he longed to reach out to her, but his vision had not returned. He grasped blindingly towards her, his hand finally finding her shoulder. Her hand came up to cover his, squeezing tightly.

He saw flashes of images: a caste high up in the snow-covered mountains, a spinning wheel near a fireplace, a young woman humming as she bent over a table pouring tea. The glimpses kept coming and going too fast for him to process, yet they somehow felt familiar to him.

Eventually the flashes began to slow, settling on one image in particular. It was the young woman again, but this time she was bent over a book. His heart leapt as he recognized it as the same one he held clutched in his hand. The woman looked up, a beautiful smile spreading across a face he knew all too well.

“Belle?” he whispered.

And just as quickly as they had come, the memories began to recede, quietly settling into the background of his mind as his sight began to return.

He blinked, glancing up at Belle to see her looking at him with the same awe and bewilderment that he felt.

“Rumple?” she asked softly, squeezing his hand even tighter.

“Belle!” He leapt forward, already forgetting about his unhealed leg, and ended up sprawled at her feet. “It worked! The words woke us from the curse!”

A giggle of pure joy escaped Belle’s lips. Instead of helping him up, she plopped down onto the floor beside him, cupping his cheek gently with her palm.

“I knew you could do it, Rumple.”

Feeling lighter than he had in 330 years, he sat up and pulled Belle into his lap, kissing her soundly. They didn’t have to worry about breaking the Dark One’s curse here, which meant he could kiss her to his heart’s delight. In which case, they might not be getting off this floor anytime soon.

Eventually they had to surface for air, but they stayed wrapped in each other’s embrace, neither ready to let go.

Belle let out another giggle from where her head lay on his shoulder. “Aren’t you glad I asked you to join another book club?”

He snorted. “It’s not so much ‘ask’ as ‘force’, my dear.”

She pretended to pout, her lower lip sticking out adorably. Rumplestiltskin decided he had no choice but to kiss the expression right off of her.

Several minutes later and out of breath again, they finally settled down enough to talk through their next moves. They couldn’t let Regina know they were awake so they would have to be careful.

Now that his plans were finally coming together, his old anxiety began to well up within him. He’d come so far to find Bae - but what if, after everything, it still wasn’t enough?

Before his thoughts could go too far down that old road, Belle - her smile soft and gentle - met his gaze firmly with her own.

“Everything is going to be fine. You’re going to find Bae and we’re going to be a family.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips, as if punctuating her point. When he still looked unconvinced, she gave him a hard stare. “We will find your son, Rumplestiltskin,” she repeated emphatically. “And then you’re going to start making up for what you’ve done to the town.”

Rumplestiltskin’s brain took a second to catch up. “Wh-what do you mean ‘make up’?” he sputtered indignantly.

Belle’s smile was warm, but he could see the steel-like determination in her eyes. Whatever she wanted from him, he wasn’t going to like it, but neither was he going to get out of it.

“Well, since you essentially evicted everyone from their homeland, you’ll start by giving people free rent on their homes - ”

“Free rent?” Rumplestiltskin almost choked. “Are you mad?”

“Don’t interrupt,” she scolded. “Yes, I think it’s only fair that you give them free rent - at least until you can find a way to reverse the Dark Curse and take everyone back home. I also think - ”

Rumplestiltskin wanted to laugh. Or cry. He wasn’t sure which. Too much had happened in the last twenty minutes to process.

“Do you think defeating Regina is going to be that simple?” he asked, exasperated. “This is real life - not some fairy tale with a handsome hero who swoops in and saves the day!” He picked the book off the floor where it had fallen and waved it at her. “I’m not Gideon, Belle.”

Belle laid a hand on his, gripping it tightly. “I know you’re not, Rumple. But do you know what you are?”

“In big trouble?” he asked, hazarding a guess.

A startled laugh erupted from Belle. Sensing that perhaps things weren’t so bad as he had thought, Rumplestiltskin let out a small chuckle as well.

The laughter broke a little of the tension between them and allowed him a moment to think objectively. After almost thirty years, he had regained his memory, found Belle, and was on the cusp of locating Bae after 300 years of waiting. If the worst thing he had to do was make reparations to the people of the Storybrooke for what he’d done, was that so bad? As far as karma went, it seemed like a pretty fair deal for being reunited with the two people he loved most in the world.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Belle said, letting out another chuckle. “And I know you’re not Gideon.”

“Then what makes you think I can fix things?” he asked, drawn in by the way Belle’s eyes held his. Perhaps if she - and Baelfire - believed in him, he could eventually become all the things they always wanted him to be.

“Because,” Belle whispered softly, gently stroking his cheek with her hand, a beautiful smile forming on her lips, “you’re my handsome hero.”

#Rumbelle Christmas in July #Jenitosam #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #prissy writes #A Tradition to Remember

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noqizeve-blog · 4 years

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andrewdburton · 5 years

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How we raised $10,000+ for a charity (actual metrics)

What happens when you try to raise money for a cause you care about?

Recently, my wife and I held a fundraiser in NYC. We both come from families of immigrants and we wanted to raise money for families being separated at the border. What we’ve seen has made us feel helpless, outraged, and sad. But we also know that we’re in the enviable position of being able to do something about it.

This was the first time we’ve ever raised money for a fundraiser together and I want to share what we learned (plus all the numbers).

VIDEO: My wife and me explaining why we launched this fundraiser

It turns out I LOVE fundraising. I think it’s because…

It’s a cause I care about

I have friends and readers I can share this with

Thanks to having 40,000 customers, I have no fear of asking for money. Especially from IWT readers who asked for a free ticket to my event, and (1) one had spent $10,000 on my products, (2) another worked at Amazon, and (3) a third was an engineer at VISA. I showed no mercy.

MRW when someone asks for a free ticket to my charity event, but they’ve spent $10,000 on my products

Our fundraising metrics

We raised $12,975, beating our goal of $5,000!! (We donated 100% of that money.)

To raise money, we first asked a few friends in the nonprofit space for their advice. They pointed us to groups we started researching, then we settled on Families Belong Together to donate our funds to.

Our next step was to email friends. We emailed about 50 friends and family, raising $2,450. Some people donated to come to the NYC event we held, while others just donated funds.

Then Cass and I recorded a video explaining why we were raising money and why this is important to us, which I posted on my Instagram feed/stories, Twitter, and LinkedIn. The video got watched about 50,000 times.

That video linked back to our Eventbrite page, which got ~2,000 views and raised ~$9,000.

We held an event in NYC, where we hosted about 35 people in a space donated by https://energi.life/welcome/. Paola from Families Belong Together shared stories about what she’s seen along the border, along with drinks served by Andrew from Crafttender (big thanks to everyone for making this possible!!).

Overall, for our first fundraiser, this was a big success!!

Paola shared her experiences working with Families Belong Together. Some of my friends cried during the presentation.

LESSON #1: Get comfortable with small numbers

Initially, Cass and I set a goal of $50,000. When we went to a few fundraising friends and asked for advice, one of them smiled. “Why don’t you start small?” he gently asked us. Even though it was hard to hear, he was right.

I learned that I had to get comfortable with smaller numbers.

This wasn’t some massive fundraiser where we could leverage crazy press or the entire IWT business (e.g., when IWT raised $300,000 for Pencils of Promise).

After running IWT, where I oversee a team that manages complex lead acquisition, funnels, conversion, and products, I’ve gotten used to big numbers. To give you an example, during the week my wife and I raised $12,975 for this fundraiser, one individual IWT student bought 3 courses equaling $10,388.

So with this fundraiser, it was humbling to start small and be satisfied with small numbers and modest goals. This was my wife and me setting up our first fundraiser together, trying to find a free event space, and trying to send anything we can to support families at the border.

I had to reframe our new goal of “only” $5,000 as a win. When you’re starting something new, it’s hard to remember that starting small is how EVERYONE starts off. This was a great reminder. Most of all, we were just thrilled to be able to contribute to a cause we care about.

LESSON #2: When a friend asks, show up

You might have seen “Ramit’s 10 Money Rules” that I posted a while back. Look closely at #4:

#4: “Never question spending money on books, appetizers, health, or donating to a friend’s charity fundraiser.”

Read about Ramit’s Money Rules

There’s a reason I always donate to friends’ charity events. When your friend emails you for a fundraiser, they really want your help (in general, people HATE asking for money, so when they do, there’s usually a reason for it).

If you respond and donate quickly, they’ll appreciate it.

And if you donate more than they asked for, they will never forget it.

For example, Sam Gavis-Hughson is a Zero To Launch graduate who helps job candidates prepare for their coding interviews at companies like Google and Facebook. He used our Zero To Launch program to recently run a $50,000 launch. When we posted about our fundraiser, he was one of our first donors and came in big with a $500 donation — that’s more than our requested $100 donation. I will never forget it.

Other friends never donated. Maybe they were busy or missed the email. But I’ll never forget that, either.

Showing up doesn’t just mean spending money. It also means physically showing up when it’s important to your friend.

Over the last couple of weeks, two of my friends have launched books. I went to Nir Eyal’s launch of his book. A few days later, Cass and I went to support Paula Rizzo’s launch of her book. Yes, I’m busy. Yes, it was out of the way. Yes, we showed up.

Showing up for Paula Rizzo’s book launch of Listful Living

When an author launches their book, they’re nervous, they’re excited, and most of all, THEY DESPERATELY WANT YOUR SUPPORT.

SHOW UP!! Show up for birthdays parties, weddings, book launches, and charity events. ALWAYS.

Those are moments in someone’s life that mean so much to them.

Cass and I learned the importance of showing up when we were planning our wedding. After we were married, we made a set of joint rules for attending other people’s weddings:

Always be first on the dance floor

Be the couple that you can seat anywhere because you know we’ll get the table having fun (AKA, don’t be a dud)

Make sure your gifts arrive before the wedding

After going through our first fundraiser, our new rules are:

Always donate to our friends’ fundraisers

Always donate MORE than they ask for (an extra $100 or $200 will always be remembered)

LESSON #3: Deal with critics

Invariably, I had some people who didn’t agree with the cause we were raising money for. I think this stops a lot of people from ever getting started with something like this (or starting a business). What will people think? What will they say? Will my friends get annoyed by me asking them for money?

Whenever you try something new, you’re going to encounter critics. It happened with this fundraiser.

LOL at the critics who decided that instead of donating, they’d leave angry comments on a fundraiser for a good cause.

I typically find that they use 3 strategies:

Telling me they disagree with my cause

Hateful comment: “Send everyone the fuck back” (screenshots below)

Confuse the issue by asking seemingly innocent question (concern trolling): “What about X? Have you considered Y? Are you concerned about Z?”

Here’s how I dealt with them.

First, when they disagree with your cause: I had a woman DM me on Instagram and politely tell me that she doesn’t agree with me politically, but she appreciates that I’m using my platform to support a cause I care about. I totally respect that.

Then there were the #MAGA morons who decided to lob potshots from their anonymous accounts with hateful comments.

Unfortunately for them, this New York Times bestselling author is considerably smarter than the usual empty-headed cretins they deal with at the local parking lot where they spend their Saturday nights.

You can safely ignore twitter commenters whose feeds are filled with hateful posts, whose headshots are cartoon characters wearing a birthday hat, and who seem to share one thing in common: the intellectual aptitude of a gnat. Just move on — they already live in a prison in their own mind.

But beyond anonymous critics, there were the more insidious critics who try to confuse the issue by concern trolling, or asking question after question after question.

Here’s what you must understand: These people will never support your cause, whether it’s a fundraiser or a business or your plan to lose weight. They have no interest in a genuine discussion (if they did, they would engage privately). They’re asking questions because getting others riled up is their entertainment. And, to put it delicately, my successful friends never leave comments like this.

“If it was X, MAYBE I would donate” = “I will never donate”

You can delete or ignore these comments. I intentionally responded to a couple so my followers could see my responses.

If you decide to try something new, remember this: Opinions are cheap. You’ll ALWAYS get people saying, “What about this? What about that? How do where every cent of this $100 is going? If you did X, maybe I would donate.”

Oh, ok. Suddenly, some anonymous guy with an icon of a banana has developed a 14-page quiz on Kantian ethics that you must answer before they donate $100. In reality, they have the moral compass of a cupholder.

Guess what? They’re not your audience.

Actual supporters didn’t demand that I jump through their gauntlet of requirements for one hundred dollars. They wanted to get involved, they clicked DONATE, and they showed up.

It’s fine if not everyone supports your cause (whether it’s a business, a new hobby, or a fundraiser). But I wanted to show you some of the worst critics of all — the ones who try to derail you by questioning you, by concern trolling you, by trying to make you second-guess yourself — so you can see that these people are everywhere.

You want to raise money for your own cause? Great! Do it. My wife and I saw something we wanted to support and we raised over $12,000 to help these families. If you’re more comfortable lobbing hateful comments on social media, then sit down and get the fuck out of my way. I have work to do.

LESSON #4: Use your time and money to live a Rich Life

THIS is a Rich Life — where you use your time and money to help other people.

When something outrages you or inspires you…when something makes you MAD or SAD or THRILLED, that’s an opportunity to lean into it and use your time and money to improve it.

It’s not about needing to have $1,000,000. A tiny amount can change someone’s life.

IWT isn’t simply about earning more money. I show you how to do that in my book, my business courses, and my career courses.

But to be able to use your time and money to help other people…that’s another level.

I want you to see how that you can use money to support the things you care about. Your family, your health, and yes — giving back.

I want to show you that raising money for something you believe in comes in lots of shapes and colors and sizes. It doesn’t mean you have to attend a black-tie gala in Manhattan. I never wrote fundraising checks as a child — but I did do “sewa” (volunteer service) at my local Sikh temple.

I want to show you how to pick a goal, then go after it without anyone or anything getting in your way. Critics? GTFO. What about the perfect financial structu–forget all that! Raise the money and send it.

More than anything, I want you to know that you can define your Rich Life. This is ours. I hope you find yours and lean into it.

How we raised $10,000+ for a charity (actual metrics) is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

from Finance https://www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com/blog/how-we-raised-10000-for-a-charity/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 5 years

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Norwegian elkhound rejected by Sun Myung Moon

an extract from the book, Heavenly Deception by Chris Elkins (1980)

Chris Elkins joined in Tucson in June 1973. He left to think about things on January 5, 1976. He spoke at the Fraser House Subcommittee on September 27, 1976.

___________________________________

Chapter 13

January 1975. Washington/New York

During my months in Washington I hadn’t much time to think. The schedule was as hectic as ever, and I was realizing that this was the course of life in the Unification Church, whether one sold candles or “influence.” There was always something urgent to be done, and it was strongly communicated that individual effort, or rather, lack of it, could be the hand of Satan sabotaging the movement’s divine mission.

By now I was living on Military Road in northwest Washington, and I was managing the staff of the Ginseng Teahouse. I had been transferred away from the Freedom Leadership Foundation because of a conflict with one person there, and I had desired to move on because of personal doubts concerning the direction of the political wing of the movement after Nixon’s resignation. I had been sent to work in some congressional campaigns for a while, and I had participated in Moon’s Madison Square Garden Rally on September 18, 1974.

Now I was enjoying the work at the teahouse. It was a new venture of the Unification Church and everyone had hopes that it would turn into a chain restaurant operation. We served Moon’s ginseng tea, the Il-Hwa brand, and we prepared health food lunches. We had a staff of twelve but hired some waitresses from outside in hopes of winning them to the movement.

I kept busy, but not quite as busy as I had been at FLF. Certain doubts crept into my head, especially about Moon. At times, the only thing which confirmed my faith in the Unification Church was the conviction that there were no other alternatives—my parents hadn’t trusted in me, I felt, and the church Christianity that I had known before wasn’t a Christianity of commitment and action as this was. And it certainly didn’t manifest the sort of love that I experienced with my Moonie brothers and sisters.

I learned that other Moonie friends had doubts too, but that they were stronger than I because they had spent more time studying the Divine Principle. They had moved up in the Church more slowly than I had. Moon had captured my heart and will, but it seemed that his grasp on my mind was not quite so firm.

Once I was sent on an errand that challenged my feelings about Moon and the Church. I was called out in the middle of the night to buy a birthday present for one of Moon’s children. At first I thought it was a joke. But as it was explained to me, I realized that this was a serious and important project.

Keith, an administrative aide, was telling me, “We know that Father has been wanting to get the children a dog and is really fond of Norwegian elkhounds. Since they are rare and extremely expensive we feel that the best bet of finding one fast will be in New York City.”

I still did not see how this all tied in with me. Why not get someone in New York to get the dog and take it out to Moon?

Neil Salonen explained, “We need someone to do the job quickly and efficiently. If the gift arrives after noon, it will seem as if we have forgotten the birthday. Since I can depend on you to do a job well, I want you to fly to New York on the next available flight and find an elkhound.”

Then, half jokingly and half seriously, he said, “And who could better find a good elkhound than someone named Elkins?”

I dutifully chuckled at the humor, but I knew that he was serious. “Sure,” I said, “I’ll be on the next plane.” Paul, the Unification Church treasurer, handed me an envelope with several fifty dollar bills in it and asked me to turn in all of the receipts.

On the way back to the Center, I heard a voice behind me.

“Excuse me, sir.”

I wheeled around to find a clean-cut young man with a bucket of carnations under his arm. I knew that he was one of our fund raisers on a mobile team, but catching me off guard the way he did gave him the opportunity to continue his sale before I could say anything.

“I am working with an interdenominational youth group raising money for missions,” he continued.

I decided to play along. “Oh,” I said. “And what is the money used for?”

“We’re using it to help kids on drugs and to start mission work around the world to help people,” he enthusiastically told me. I had to work at keeping a straight face. This was the first time I had ever been on the receiving end of a fund raiser.

Coyly I asked, “Is this connected with Reverend Moon in any way?” I knew that that was the hardest question to answer. To say yes would kill the sale, to say no would be a lie too easy to be caught in.

“We support many churches,” he said. “We just want to share God’s love with everyone.”

“And all of this money is used for mission work?” I asked, knowing what he would say.

“Yes, sir!” he said, almost straightening up to attention.

“You do an excellent job at fund raising,” I replied. A bewildered look formed on his face. I laughed. “I, too, am a Family member,” I said. “If I hadn’t been, you would have had me sold.”

As we bid each other good-bye I almost told him about the mission I was being sent on. I am sure that he had no idea that the several hundred dollars that he worked eighteen hours a day, seven days a week to earn would be spent on a dog for Moon. Although he would not have questioned the expenditure openly, in his mind it would have indeed raised doubts. I chose to let him remain naive.

Once in New York, I quickly started phoning. Elkhounds were hard to find and soon I realized that I would not be able to get the dog to Moon by the middle of the day. But I continued, knowing that Salonen would want a gift to get there no matter how late.

I finally found a dog in Greenwich Village at a rather posh pet shop. Filling out the papers, I had to disclose to the clerk who would own the pet.

“The name of the owner?” the clerk asked me.

I paused for a second and obviously was hesitant about saying it. Suddenly everyone around seemed to be listening. “Let me spell it for you,” I said. “S-u-n M-y-u-n-g M-o-o-n.”

I could feel the atmosphere grow thick. Although the clerk did not say anything at first, she looked as if she had become frozen.

She looked up and said, “Is this who I think it is?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Who do you think it is?”

“The guy with the posters up all over the city. The Korean guru,” she said.

“Well, yes and no. He is the guy with posters up everywhere, but he is not a guru.”

“Do you believe in him?” she asked. By this time a small crowd had gathered around me.

That question always sent me into a tailspin. I knew deep down that I still had major doubts, yet after being in for several months I had an obligation to answer yes.

“That’s a long story,” I said, trying to evade the question. “I am a member of the Unification Church, which is a Moon organization.” A lady standing nearby asked, “Well, don’t all of you believe that he is the messiah—the return of Christ?”

I found myself automatically giving the answer I had been trained to say. “We believe that he is perhaps a prophet, much like a John the Baptist figure, preparing the way for Christ’s return.”

“That’s not what I have read,” she said.

“Do you believe everything you read?” I asked.

“Of course not,” she said, trapping herself.

“Then, I suggest if you want to know who Moon is and what we believe, that you come see for yourself.” Obviously this frustrated her.

“Well,” she said in a last ditch effort, “I believe in the Bible.” “Good,” I said, “so do I. And in it you will find instructions to judge a tree by its fruit.”

By this time she was flustered, and rather than argue any further she simply turned and walked away. Although visibly I had won the encounter, I felt inside that I had been deceptive, and it disturbed me.

By the time I got the dog it was two o’clock. I rented a car and immediately left for East Garden, the estate where Moon lived in Irvington, New York. If I made good time, I would be there by three.

Once I arrived, the guards at the gate were hesitant to let me in. They had not been informed to expect me, and until someone from the main house gave clearance I wouldn’t get further than the gate. The security around Moon was always tight.

Daikon, Moon’s driver, was at the main house, and when told of the purpose of my visit he gave permission for me to come in. By the time I reached the front drive, Daikon was there to meet me.

He was a very pleasant man, quite trusted, and extremely close to Moon. “Hello,” he said, making his l’s sound like r’s. “You have gift for Hye-Jin?’

“Yes,” I said gleefully. “We have a Norwegian elkhound puppy for her from the American Church. May I present it to Father?’

“I think maybe not,” he said in his Oriental English. “Father expect gift this morning. Maybe I should take to him.” At that he disappeared into the house for what seemed to be hours.

When he returned, he still had the puppy in his hands and motioned for me to walk with him over to the garage. Daikon was in charge of Moon’s cars and he slept in a small apartment above the garage. Upon entering the garage, I noticed the limousine and the Mercedes Benz. Daikon told me that Moon had a sports car too, which was being repaired.

He put the puppy down and said, “Father would not receive puppy. But, I keep him here and soon Father will love him.”

The puppy playfully ran around the garage while Daikon and I talked. The more I considered the situation, the angrier I became. I had spent most of the night and all that day finding that dog. Besides spending a fortune on it, my airplane ticket and car rental had made the venture quite expensive. And for him not to receive me and then to reject the gift only further increased the growing conflicts in my mind.

“We’ll need at least fifteen San Juaquins and probably ten Poconos,” I said, referring to our teahouse sandwiches. We spent most evenings preparing the food for the next day. While talking in the kitchen, I heard the jingle of the bell on the front door signaling that someone had come in. Assuming it was a customer thinking we were open, I walked toward the front of the restaurant to tell him we were closed.

To my surprise I found Randy Remmel, the choir director. “Randy!” I said as I ran to embrace him, “It’s so good to see you.” We laughed and talked for a few minutes and I asked him in for a cup of tea, which he gladly accepted.

We sat down in a quiet corner of the restaurant and began to talk. I was pretty much running the teahouse myself now and was worse for the wear. Often half of the staff would be called off on a special mission at the last minute and leave the rest of us to try to handle the situation. Many times we almost crumbled during the heavy lunch rushes. Keeping up the morale of the staff when I could hardly keep up my own morale was getting more difficult. Randy was a breath of fresh air for me, someone I could talk to.

Randy reached across the table, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “How are you doing, Elk? I mean really deep inside, how are you doing?”

Randy had a way of reaching down inside me, going beyond the facade that I often put up for everyone else. Just calling me “Elk” made me comfortable with him and reminded me of our abiding trust in each other.

I opened my mouth to respond, but words did not come out. Suddenly my eyes were flooded with tears, and great sobs began to well up inside of me. For several minutes all I could do was cry. Randy sat there and soothed me and told me not to feel bad about crying and just to let it all out. He knew that I had been under a great deal of pressure.

Once I gained my composure I said, “Randy, I don’t know why that happened. I had everything under control until you asked about it. But, things are pretty rough. We are expected to make this restaurant an ideal business, yet I can never be sure from day to day if we will have enough people to run it. We are behind on our bills because we have been using Teahouse funds to support other church activities, and sometimes I feel the weight of all of this on my shoulders.”

Randy smiled sympathetically. “But you and I both know that that is not the biggest problem you have,” he said.

Knowing what he meant, yet afraid to admit it, I asked him, “What do you mean?”

“All of us are asked to do the work of a dozen people everyday in half the time, and unless we have absolute faith in the True Parents none of us will ever make it.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, looking down at the floor.

“Chris,” he said. “Don’t think that you are the only one having doubts. If we had all of us together at one time, over half of us would seriously doubt the validity of our actions. If we did not need each other so badly, many of us would leave.”

There was a long period of silence between us. Several times we had been interrupted by teahouse staffers asking me questions. Randy began to see how trapped I felt....

______________________________

Writings of former members Many recount their experiences in the Moon organization or their journeys out of it.

Sam Park reveals Moon’s hidden history (2014)

Nansook Hong In The Shadow Of The Moons

#Norwegian elkhound #Sun Myung Moon

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acuppellarp · 5 years

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Welcome (again) to A Cup-pella, Kai! We’re excited to have you and Lara James in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Kai + she/her Age: 25 Timezone: EST Ships: LJ + an NSA-less world Anti-Ships: LJ + unhappiness

IC INFO

Full Name: Lara “LJ” Rae James Face Claim: Hayley Kiyoko Age/Birthday: January 28 / 25 Occupation: Member of Geek Squad at Best Buy + Full time student at NYU Personality: adaptable, charismatic, impulsive, extroverted, creative, clumsy Hometown: New York City, New York Bio: To say that Lara James’ childhood was a mess and a half would be speaking politely. From the moment that Lara was born, her parents struggled. Her mother was a waitress for a small diner located in the heart of Manhattan and her father was a handyman for an apartment building that liked to pay him under the table. While it was nice to not have to deal with the taxes taking money from his paychecks, it meant that sometimes, the main provider of the house was not bringing home enough money for the family to live comfortably. There were many times throughout Lara’s childhood that she remembered the lights flickering before going out for days on end. This was something that typically brought on hours of screaming and bickering between her parents about all issues surrounding money and the unhappiness that it brought to them. While Calvin and Melissa James always strived to bring the best for their daughter, sometimes their money situation could not even provide a well balanced dinner for their daughter for weeks on end. It was something that Lara always thought to be normal and casual amongst the children of her neighborhood, but after being labeled a few horrific names from her classmates, she knew that wasn’t the case.

As she grew, things never really got better. Her father kept losing job after job, stress taking over his life, and turning him into a man that was filled with anger instead of the happy, bubbly man that she always loved and adored. Her mother had lingering eyes for every male that came into the diner, always wondering what life would be like if she wasn’t strapped down by the suffocating lack of funds in her family. In fact, when Lara was just seven years old, her mother’s lingering eye is what took her away from her family. One night, Lara heard shuffling outside of her bedroom door and before she was able to investigate what was going on, her mother was gone. She had packed her few belongings and left Lara and her father to their own devices. Later on, Lara would find out that she had met a wealthy man who was capable of giving her more monetary happiness than her own flesh and blood ever could. It was something that made Lara see that the world was not always as kind and forgiving as she thought it was.

It took her mother’s departure from their lives for things to turn around for Calvin and Lara, however. Once there was no other means of money and income coming into the apartment, Calvin started working harder to get jobs that were well paying and reliable for work. He started looking in construction, quickly becoming employed with a company that actually made him fill out a W-2 and do things by the book. The money started coming in more readily, and Lara was seeing things that she never had before: birthday presents, dinner on the table every single night, random gifts of appreciation from her father, etc. While they didn’t have much, there wasn’t a single day in which the lights went out in their home.

It wasn’t until her fourteenth birthday that Lara received a gift from her father that opened a door in her life that she had never been prepared for: a personal laptop. There was not a lot of extra money lying around, but the hefty priced gift was something that was met with a beaming Lara and a very smitten Calvin that he had done so well by her. For that next coming years, Lara spent her life on her laptop. She researched everything she could find, downloaded all the free video games that she could come across, and taught herself everything the Internet could teach her about coding (which was a lot). Her research and fooling around online quickly came to a staggering halt the moment she turned sixteen whenever she thrusted herself into a job. While she was just working at Best Buy as a cashier, it was something that helped her father out in little ways whenever it came to bills and purchasing groceries. He was constantly protesting her from working as much as she did, but Lara liked that she was finally pulling her own around the house.

Once Lara graduated from high school (fourth in a class of a few hundred), she focused on working and nothing more. She had always dreamed of attending college, but dreams did not pay the bills at home and Lara was terrified of racking up a bill with student loan programs. She was happy though. She climbed the ranks at her local Best Buy and soon enough, she was partaking in the program of Geek Squad. She got to spend time doing what she loved most, handling technology, and was getting paid in the meantime. It only took a couple of years and soon enough, Lara had padded her savings account enough to fly from her nest of a home. It was something that Calvin struggled with, but she was only living a subway trip away from his clutches.

Living on her own was something that Lara quickly found to be a lot more complicated than she had thought. She wanted to be the independent individual she always knew she was, but rent was hard to make every single month. Because of such a thing, Lara was quick to look for roommates. After a few duds came into her life, she came across Evie Miller. She was everything that Lara found annoying in a person, but for the sole purpose of wanting entertainment around her apartment, she decided to sign the lease with allowing her to move in. While it may have taken a couple of months, Lara and Evie soon became inseparable. Not to mention, Evie was the person who inspired and encouraged Lara to start following her dreams and enroll in college. Lara isn’t shy to tell anyone that her roommate is the reason behind her college success, but she keeps it under wraps that while she is attending school for a Computer Science degree, she’s also enrolled in a full time honor’s program. Pets: N/A Relationships:

Evie Miller: At first meeting, Evie was the opposite of the kind of person that LJ wanted to associate herself with. She was the happy-go-lucky type that was constantly barging into her room with her wide smile and multitude of stories, which always made Lara question her decisions about agreeing to be her roommate. However, as time has passed, Lara has considered Evie to be one of her closest friends in life. She’s the epitome of a ‘ride or die’ for Lara.

Matt Solis: For a person that runs the other way from love and actively states that it does not exist, she fell rather hard for Matt. They got along from the very beginning of meeting, and from the moment they kissed, Lara knew that she was screwed. She was wrapped around Matt’s pinky finger up until the moment that things weren’t what fairytales were made of. Somedays, Lara blames herself for being too flaky whenever things got closer and closer to true love. Other days, she blames Matt. While she isn’t entirely sure why she blames her, it’s sometimes easier doing such.

ACup baristas: Since Lara was heavily involved with one of the baristas, Lara spent a lot of time at the establishment. She even made sure to keep her menu hacking skills to a minimum whenever it came to being part of the customer sea.

EXTRA INFO

MON$TA LJ / @laranotcroft/description: sometimes i legitimately believe i might be the love child of a trash can and steve buscemi

Five latest tweets:

@laranotcroft: my top 5 best life moments is still when Smash Mouth RT’d me thats when i truly became an all star @laranotcroft: anyone gotta dollar ??? my bank account would be at $69 then and lemme tell you that would be delish @laranotcroft: ariana grande releasing new music every 6 months is why i’m gay as fuck @laranotcroft: im only a heaux whenever melted cheese is in the pic <3 @laranotcroft: FUCK U @NSA FIRST YOU LET ME INTO CANADA AND THEN YOU LET ME RUN AMUCK IN SINGAPORE ???? IDIOTS shoutout to cousin jay tho ur new wife is hot and its a hella good thing i’m back in america bitch <3

#accepted

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raph-peruggia · 6 years

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Beyond its negative effect on his teammates' psyches, Raph doesn’t concern himself with Parents Weekend. It’s not an event that is meant for him. He doesn’t have any family after all. The weekend will come and it will go and nothing will change.

Coach Michael Cheng is a foolish man. Raph learned this from the months they spent together while Raph played with the Rattlesnakes. Cheng splits his time between teaching PE at the local elementary school and volunteering as the coach for the Rattlesnakes. He works a ridiculous amount of hours for a team that will never make him any money. He has a job he cannot afford to take time off from. He has wasted his time attempting to improve the lives of countless young adults who will never repay him for his efforts.

And now, he has come to Raph’s front door, a clumsily wrapped oblong package in hand.

Raph stares at him. The man almost visibly wilts under the force of his gaze. He attempts a smile that is not quite sincere. “Hey, kiddo! Long time no see.”

“Why are you here?”

Cheng cannot meet his eyes. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I was around town, and I heard you guys have a game against the Terrapins tonight so I figured I’d stop by, catch the game, talk to David, and uh, check on you.”

“You paid at least $300 dollars to fly across the country to South Carolina so you could watch a regional college-level Exy game, speak with David Wymack, and assess my condition.”

“I had a lotta miles saved up,” Cheng says. He twists his hands around the package, wrapping paper crinkling beneath his palms. “Anyway er, kiddo, how ya’ doin? Settling in okay at the University? Getting along with your teammates.”

Raph should be a box checked off a list for Cheng. His job as the Rattlesnakes’ Coach required him to provide young adults access Exy and the opportunities it afforded, nothing more. He had successfully helped Raph gain a full-ride sports scholarship to an accredited university. He shouldn’t care what happens to Raph now. Their relationship should have ended the day Raph collected his things from the church he’d been squatting in and began the week-long treck across the country to Palmetto.

But Michael Cheng has always been ineffable to Raph. His seemingly endless supply of care and concern, his thinly veiled justifications for all the ways he wastes his time and money on other people, it’s all incomprehensible to Raph.

“My health is adequate. My academic performance is adequate. My athletic performance has been inadequate. I haven’t achieved the level of synergy with my teammates required to play at Court level. I have only met a few of my teammates. I have made most of them uncomfortable,” Raph reports blandly. Cheng nods. There’s a grim slant to his mouth now that curdles something in Raph’s stomach. He’s not beholden to Cheng anymore, David Wymack is his coach now, but it still feels wrong to do something that disappoints him.

“Sorry to hear that kid. I’m sure they’ll come round eventually they just gotta get to know you better.” Cheng’s arm moves in aborted motion towards Raph’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid. I’m glad you’re doing okay…cept for the uh, synergy stuff I guess. I figured that’d be a little harder for you after playing on the Rattlers.”

“I have nothing further to report. You can leave to talk with David Wymack now.”

“Well uh, okay, but first I got you this.”

Cheng thrusts the package into Raph’s hands. It’s light, and he can tell already that it’s made of metal. Steel possibly, or an aluminum alloy. It takes about a second before he realizes what it is and by then he’s ripping away the paper in a near frenzy. It a racquet, new by the looks of it, and expensive, and-

“This is the perfect length for someone of my height and reach.“

Cheng grins. “Well, Wymack texted me that they couldn’t find the right typa racquet for you and I figured- we had this one lying around and I remembered talking with you about racket lengths and how they change the game and stuff so I uh, figured it’d be a good gift. It’s a good luck present I guess, for the game.”

“There’s no such thing as luck. This will improve my control but I doubt the improvement will be so great that it changes the outcome of the game,” Raph says, twisting the racquet in his hands. The stick is dark blue, the net deep enough to hold the ball comfortably but not so deep that it inhibits his ability to aim a shot. It’s the type of racquet that Raph wouldn’t even have been able to steal. It’s too specific to his exact needs and superficial preferences.

“You custom ordered this,” Raph observes, running a finger along the edge of the net. “This was at least one-hundred and fifty American dollars.”

Cheng winces, his grin slipping a bit. He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “Well uh- I figured, you know-”

“I didn’t require a new racquet.”

Cheng’s expression grows serious, somber. “But you wanted one, right? And you didn’t say anything to Dave because you got it in your head that you gotta earn all of the things you’re given right?”

That’s…not wrong. He had wanted a new racquet and he had decided that at his current level there was no point in asking for one. Raph has done nothing for the Foxes but keep his part if the bench warm. He stares at Cheng, then down at the racquet. It’s perfect in a way it has no right to be. The grip, the weight, the net, even the color display a careful attention to detail.

Raph’s chest feels tight. There is something there, unfolding slowly inside of him, something warm.

“Listen, kid,” Cheng continues, reaching out to push the racquet further into Raph’s grip. “Indulge an old fart and lemme give you a gift. Keep it. I want ya’ to have it.”

“Okay,” Raph murmurs, grip tight around the stick of his new racquet. Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “thank you.”

Cheng never does go to speak with David Wymack. He insists on taking Raph to lunch and talks to him endlessly about the Rattlesnakes. Raph doesn’t care about the Rattlesnakes. They are no longer of use to him. But he listens regardless.

The game with the Terrapins comes and goes, Cheng remains. He’s underfoot for the rest of Parents Weekend, constantly concerned about Raph in some way or another. He asks him if he’s eating enough several times. He pesters Raph into buying a single poster to hang on the empty wall of his side of the dorm room. He rambles on and on to him about getting enough sleep and eating his vegetables and working hard in school and brushing his teeth as if Raph is some hapless child he’s got to look after. He even insists on frittering away more of his money on a phone of all things.

“It’s only fifteen dollars more for a family plan,” Cheng says with a shrug. “Besides, if you’ve got this I don’t have to shell out for a plane ticket just to check up on ya’.” Raph doesn’t point out to him that they are not family. He doesn’t need a phone or even want one really, but the look Cheng gives him when he holds out the cheap plastic device is the same as when he’d pushed the new Exy racquet into Raph’s chest. He doesn’t say thank you, but he does take the phone and tuck it into his pocket alongside his switchblade.

When Parents Weekend finally comes to an end, Cheng hesitantly reaches up, squeezes Raph’s shoulder once, and boards his taxi. Raph watches it drive away. Cheng presses his face against the window, waving at him until the car turns a corner and he disappears from sight.

#selfpara #yes #the poster is for rush hour 2 baby #raph chose it because it was ten cents and it was cheap and he knows nothing of the world #i love him #mike's fc is godrey gao #i love my over-involved dad coach npc

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fanficwriter013 · 6 years

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The Tower Holiday Special - Part Two

The Tower Holiday Special: An Avengers Fanfic

Part One | Two

Word Count: 4610

Warnings: Fluffy fluff. Some funny dialogue.

Synopsis: After Tony announces to the world that the Avengers are in a polyamorous relationship together, things become tense. Elly decides that they could use some holiday cheer and gets all their friends involved.

Author’s Note: As promised part 2, and you only had to wait less than twenty-four hours for it. Written with the salted carmel Sagittarian @emilyevanston. Happy, Merry Festivus.

Holiday Special - Part Two

Since joining the Avengers, Wanda had not had really had anyone to celebrate Hanukkah or any of her holidays with. It was something that she did with Pietro until they’d unwittingly signed their bodies over to HYDRA. She still celebrated, but you could tell she missed Pietro.

Because we were celebrating a holiday, when normally they didn’t, I wanted to make sure she knew she wasn’t alone. That I was her family and if she wanted to have someone to share that with I could be that person.

So on the first day of Hanukkah, I spent the morning cooking latkes, sufganiyot and kugel and left them to cool while I went up to work. After work, I showered and got dressed and headed over to Wanda’s apartment laden down with food and gifts. I knocked on her door and heard the words, ‘Just a minute, sweetheart.’ In my mind as the sound of things being hastily moved around happened inside.

The door opened and Wanda popped her head out.

“Happy Hanukkah!” I said with a big stupid grin on my face and holding up the plates of food. “I’ve been cooking.”

Wanda kissed my cheek and took the plate stepping out of the doorway so I could come in. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that you know?”

“I know I didn’t. But I love you, and it’s your holiday. You’re celebrating ours with us, so…” I held up two small wrapped gifts.

Wanda put the food down on the coffee table and we both sat down on the couch. She curled herself into me and took the presents, kissing me on the tip of the nose. “You’re too sweet.”

“I can’t tell you how hard it was to keep this a secret,” I said as she opened up the dreidel and gelt. “I thought we could play. I know, it’s for kids or whatever, but…”

Wanda put her finger on my lips. “I could tell you were hiding something when you started singing ‘Sucker for Pain in your head at random times.” She said. “And it sounds good, sweetheart. I would love to do that.”

I let out a sigh of relief as Wanda picked up a latkes and tore a piece off. “You know there’s better ways to keep things secret from me. You can ask me not to snoop around. Or there’s Natasha’s favorite. Thinking in other languages.”

“I don’t know any other languages.” I joked, “So earworms it is.”

Wanda rolled her eyes.

We spent the night eating and playing and she taught me the song to sing as she lit the candle. The following day Sam joined us. Then Nat and Bucky. Then Vision. By the eighth day, the whole group had come to celebrate too. Wanda and I spent the day teaching Vis to cook. It felt like something had shifted in the group. Like they’d discovered that there was another level to what being a family was.

Gift hunting for Tony wasn’t as easy as I had hoped. For real, what do you buy a guy who has billions of dollars? He’s not the most sentimental person in the world either. In fact, the Iron Suits and his cars are the only things that he seems to hold on to.

I kept thinking, I can’t just get him lingerie for me. That’s so lazy. Then I got it in my head, the first real date we went on was to Shake Shack. Maybe I could buy Shake Shack. I mean, how much money could it be? It’s a small shack that makes burgers.

Turns out a lot. It costs a lot. Not for that venue. That venue wasn’t for sale. Nor were any. It was a publicly listed company. So then I had it in my head that I’d buy him shares. However, the shares weren’t exactly cheap and I knew he wouldn’t be happy with just some shares. He’d want controlling shares.

So after speaking with his lawyers and accountants and everyone giving me the go ahead because it was a growing business with steadily growing share rates I went to see Tony. Really feeling confident. Okay, so I wasn’t buying him this exactly, I was investing his money. My gift was an investment into something that meant something to us.

So I headed into his lab. He was right in the zone. Hyper-focused on whatever he was working on. I went up behind him and just rested my chin on his shoulder and wrapped my arms around his waist waiting for him to acknowledge me. To my surprise, it happened really fast. He immediately started closing what he was working on down. “Hey, no no. You said we weren't supposed to know anything about these things before we did the gift exchange.”

“Oh was that a gift thing? I didn’t look. Is it for me? Did you get me?” I babbled excitedly.

“It was a gift thing. Not for you.” Tony said. “Besides, you were the one that made all these rules.”

“Okay. Well, I didn't look. So it's all good. No surprises ruined.” I said kissing his cheek and stepping back so he could turn around. He spun in his chair and wrapped his arms around my waist looking up at him. It was in this very moment that I realized how fucking insane what I was about to ask for actually was. “I kind of have... fuck... I don't even know how to ask for this.”

“Whoa, that sounds like something I would say.” Tony teased. “What's going on? Do you need lawyers? Your own suit?”

I had a vision of myself flying around and being part of the team in my own version of the Iron Man armor. I liked how it looked and for a moment I was completely distracted from what I went in there for. “Is my own suit an option?” I asked, looking around the room at the different suits. “No. Shut up, Elly.” I said shaking my head to clear it of thoughts of being a new superhero. “I need money. Like a lot. A lot of money.”

Tony looked at me with a mix of curiosity and excitement. I knew what was going through his head. I never asked for money. I hated taking money. He was about to get the thing he wanted. He could spoil me for a change. “What's a lot of money?”

“A hundred million and some change,” I said spewing the words out as fast as I could and regretting saying it immediately. I dropped my eyes and tried to pull away from him. “No never mind. This is dumb. I don't even know why I thought this was a good idea.”

He tightened his arms around me. “Hey, wait. You know that’s nothing to me right? It’s like $10 for you. Pocket change. No big deal at all. I just need to get my checkbook.”

I looked at him like he’d lost his fucking mind. I felt like I’d lost mine that’s for sure. “You’re not even going to ask what it’s for?”

“No, why would I?’ He asked. “I told you, it's ten dollars. Not a big deal. I have it, I can give it to you. I'm just really excited that you're finally asking me for money. Wait, that didn't sound right.”

I laughed and buried my face in his neck. I felt really overwhelmed and unworthy. I don’t even know where the feeling of unworthiness came from. It’s not like I’d gotten into some serious trouble. I’d just had a dumb investment plan. Still, this man loved me so much that I could ask for more money than most people earned in a year and not even ask me what I needed it for. He just trusted I wasn’t hiding anything bad from him. “I love you so much, you know?”

Tony pulled me a little tighter to him and kissed me on the top of the head. “I know, love you too.” He said, patting my butt. “Now let me go so I can go get my checkbook.”

****

The preparation for Christmas dinner started about three days before with Wanda and I, making desserts. We then cooked pretty much constantly all the way through until the last dish was set on the conference room table completed. I have never cooked so much food in my life. There was a mixture of things that included traditional things, like Turkey (there were two full birds served hot and one small turkey roll I’d cooked the night before so Wanda had one), a Ham that was hot and one served cold, potatoes prepared like 4 different ways, green beans, carrots, gravy. We had cold seafood like shrimp, oysters and smoked salmon. There were three different kinds of vegetarian imitations meats, including a fake turkey made to look like a turkey. We had traditional dishes from Eastern Europe like beef salad, and sarmale from Romania and Sokovia and Bobal’ki and Kutya from Russia.

We’d gone overboard but there were a lot of us. Our family group of Steve, Bucky, Tony, Bruce, Clint, Sam, Wanda, Natasha and myself. Our little part-timer Thor and his brother Loki. Rhodey, Phil, Maria, and Scott were there too. I had no doubt most of it would get eaten.

While Wanda and I had been cooking most of the others had been volunteering in shelters around town. So by the time that the last dish hit the table we were all so ready to eat.

“I can't believe we pulled this off. I've never cooked for this many of you at once. Merry Christmas, everyone.” I said collapsing into a seat. “Who wants to carve?”

“Steve should do it,” Nat said. “Unless someone else really wants to.”

“I agree with you, Nat. Any objections?” I said, picking up the carving knife and offering it to Steve.

Steve glanced around the table. “Come on, Cap. No, not Cap. Who are you now? The tramp?” Tony teased.

Steve took the knife from me trying to ignore Tony and started to carve. “Alright, everyone. Don't hold back.” I said when he was done and grabbed a terrine full of potatoes.

The room broke down into noise and chaos as everyone started to help themselves and dishes got passed around the table.

“Have you spoken to Cassie yet today?” I asked Scott when our plates were full.

Scott shook his head. “Not yet. I was going to do a video call in later. Maybe see if Santa could make an appearance.”

“Oh, that will be so cute. I bet she'll love that.” I said. How good of a dad Scott was always made me happy. Even though he didn’t always make the best life choices he loved and adored that girl and given that so few people at the table had a decent father, having a friend who was one made me really happy.

He nodded at me, a huge smile on his face and a mouth full of turkey. “That's the plan.”

I looked over at the two gods. Loki was picking at a plate of seafood like he expected that they might be poisoned while Thor had a Turkey leg in one hand and was shoveling ham into his mouth and a huge smile on his face. “How is it? Different to food on Asgard I guess.” I asked.

“Much different, but it is enjoyable, Lady Elly. Thank you for your efforts on putting together this feast.” Thor boomed, sweeping his hands around the room.

I felt myself blush again. Thor has this effect on me and even though we weren’t strangers anymore, he still could make me blush at the drop of a hat. “Thank you, Thor.”

“What is that on your face?” Clint teased, point his potato laden fork at me.

I flicked a pea at him, my face growing even hotter. “Shut up.”

“Hey now, that's how you start a food fight.” Clint joked. “Do you want to start a food fight?”

“No. I do not want to start a food fight. Do you know how long I've been cooking this stuff? I started yesterday.” I snarked.

“We actually started a few days ago,” Wanda said, looking over at us. “All that baking and then the prep work, and the stuff that needed to set to taste good.”

“Yeah, true. So no food fights. At least not until you've all eaten more than you can physically fit inside you.” I said with a nod.

“That can’t include both of us,” Bucky said indicating to himself and Steve. “Because we can eat about half of this together.”

“You forget there's still dessert on the common floor. And oh my god, we went overboard. Like there is something from everywhere. There's pies and cakes and puddings and tarts. A Yule Log. have you ever seen a Yule Log? Anyway... We can eat dessert with the gift swap.” I rambled

“Okay, so then we need to save some room. Got it.” Sam teased.

“More food for the food fight,” Clint added.

“Cookies. There's cookies. Oh, there's a thing called a pavlova. I had to put some things in the walk-in fridge in the cafeteria.” I continued.

Steve rubbed my leg under the table. “El, you really went overboard here. But thank you for everything.”

“You're welcome,” I replied, linking my fingers with his. “I just... I wanted it to be special you know?”

“I understand.” He said giving me a soft smile. “Still, thank you.”

I looked around at everyone. I felt really happy and loved. Quite proud of what I’d managed to pull this off. “Maybe we should have a toast or something?”

“Think that'd be all you, doll,” Bucky said.

“Alright,” I said, thinking for a second. “Well, first of all, I guess I just want to say, how weird it's been since I met you guys. But I wouldn't change it at all. I love you all. And I appreciate that you all made time to come join us for the holiday. I know most of you already know I call you family, but here right now it's like one big extended family. So to family.” I said raising my glass. Everyone raised their glasses, repeating 'to family' as glasses clinked together.

****

After dinner, we cleared up and headed down to the common room. Dessert was served. There was way too much, but a lot of people do work in the tower so I was pretty confident it would all end up in someone’s stomach eventually. We sat around the coffee table. Some people in chairs, some on the floor. Clint perched on the back of the couch.

The room was lit mostly by the fairy lights and the lights of the city filtering in through the window and we all sat eating our desserts and drinking things like hot cocoa and eggnog. It felt quite magical really. I looked over at the pile of presents and back to the others.

“Okay, I don't want to go first. Who's going first?” I asked.

“Might as well just do this and get it over with,” Clint said. He got up and grabbed an envelope and tossed it at Loki. Loki glared at it, and then Clint, before picking it up and opening it. There was the briefest of moments where his jaw dropped before he composed himself.

“You like it? What did you get?” I asked Loki knowing full well what the answer was, but wanting to hear him say it out loud.

“It's tickets to a play about me. And it's an alright gift from a Midgardian.” He answered. “Does that mean I have to go now?”

I gave a nod and the corners of his mouth downturned ever so slightly. He got up and picked up a big box that had been wrapped in his signature colors of green and gold. He turned around and his eyes swept the room before he handed the gift to Hill. She took the box and opens it cautiously.

“Gotta admit, kinda scared about this one.” I half-joked.

“Why do you think I'm opening it like this? I don't want something to jump out and stab me.” Hill joked. I sat forward in my seat to see better. She opened the box and stared at what was inside for a moment.

“It's not poisonous. You can take it out of the box.” Loki said. Hill looked at him before pulling out a beautiful ornamental helmet.

Sam started to laugh earning a glare from Loki. “Sorry, I'm just thinking about that time. And you had that helmet on.” He said, in between laughs. “How it was squishing your brain.”

“Alright, smartass shove it,” Hill said and turned to Loki. “Thank you. It’s really lovely.” She went and picked up a small box from the pile and handed it to Bruce. “Okay, you can let me know if this isn't something that you'd like and I can swap out some stuff. I had this whole list for you.”

Bruce sorted through the things in the box. “Hill, this is already like five different things,” Bruce said. There was a paper gift certificate, a photo of a well outside a small village, another of a newly constructed hospital, and yet another photo of a condemned building.

“That last one is for Hulk.” She said.

“Oh my god. You got him somewhere to smash?” I asked looking at her. “That’s genius.”

“I know. I tried. Plus the place is coming down anyway, so perfectly safe and helpful.” She said

“I don't even have the words to begin to express enough gratitude. Thanks, Maria.” Bruce said, looking really touched.

“Man, you are good at gift giving, Hill,”I say putting my hand on my heart.

“Should have taken my bow when I had the chance.” She laughed.

“Okay, so I got Bucky. And you are not an easy person to get a gift for. So, uh, if you don't like it, you can tell me and I can fix it. Although, I kinda did the same thing Hill did.” Bruce said, fidgeting with his hands as he grabbed a small box and handed it to Bucky.

“Remember, Bruce. It's the thought that counts.” Bucky said as he opened the box. Inside were VIP tickets to the Natural History Museum, along with VIP tickets to the most recent Neil DeGrasse Tyson tour. Bucky looks at them for a moment before smiling at Bruce. “These are awesome. Thank you so much.”

“Oh man! I am super jealous, Bucky.” I said, bouncing in my seat a little.

“Play your cards right, doll. Just maybe.” Bucky teased. “Okay, so, you guys are never going to guess who I got.” He said, getting up to grab a big box. He handed it to Sam grinning.

Sam looked at the box and then glared up at Bucky. “I don't like your face,” Sam said, suspiciously as he opened the box. His jaw set and he pulled out a steering wheel.

“You know because I stole yours? Get it?” Bucky asked, trying to stifle laughter.

I laughed loudly. “You do bring it up a lot, Sammy.”

“Doesn't mean that's a suitable Christmas gift,” Sam said, sticking the steering wheel back in the box.

“And that would be what this is for,” Bucky said, handing Sam a smaller box.

Sam gave Bucky a look as he opened the box, and pulled out a brand new tactical knife. “Now this is what I'm talkin ‘bout.”

“Because you're a punk that attacks HYDRA with a knife,” Bucky explained.

Sam patted Bucky on the shoulder before grabbing a gift bag and passing it to Wanda, kissing her softly before sitting back down again. Wanda pulled out a canvas with a print of her and Pietro on it. Her eyes started to water as she looked at it. Natasha put her arm around Wanda’s shoulder and kissed her on top of the head. Wanda then pulled out a matching canvas but this time of one of the rare photos of us together, not them as superheroes or doing a public appearance. But just, as the family we were. Jammed together, arms wrapped around each other as Bucky tried to reach out as far as he could to get us all into the shot. “Come here, you big softie,” Wanda said, bursting into tears and launching herself at Sam. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her, holding her to him. “You’re too sweet.” She mumbled against his skin.

“Only for my little witch. Don't go getting ideas about me being soft.” Sam whispered.

“That’s what she said.” Clint teased.

“Clint! Stop ruining moments!” I said throwing a hazelnut at him.

He caught it in his mouth and shrugged. “Come on, I wasn't the only one that thought it.”

Wanda sat down on Sam’s lap and curled into him before waving her hand. A small box was carried over to me. I took it and looked it over. “Oh no, if it’s from Wanda I’m going to cry.”

“Yes, you are. But they'll be good tears.” Wanda said.

I open the box to see a bracelet with 9 charms each represents one of them. Mjolnir for Thor, a Shield for Steve and so on. My eyes well up. “Oh my god Wanda.” I squeaked and moved to her, hugging her tightly. “It’s perfect. Can you help me put it on.”

“I can,” Wanda replied, as she took the bracelet and wrapped it around my wrist and closed the clasp. “I'm glad you liked it.”

I kiss her deeply but briefly sending her the feelings of love I had. “I love it. And I love you.” I said. “Okay, my turn.” I got up and grabbed two wrapped boxes. I handed him the garment one first. “This is for later,” I said. He opened it and looked inside before looking back up at me and raising his eyebrow.

“Naughty girl.” He teased.

I ran my tongue over my top lip and quirked an eyebrow at him before handing over the wrapped prospectus. “Also, I made an investment for you.”

“Did you really ask me for money from me to just earn me more money? That’s not how that’s supposed to work.” He said as he unwrapped the parcel. He looked it over and laughed. “Sentimental are we?”

I immediately started to second guess it again. Of course, this was a terrible gift. “Yeah. I thought now you know it will never go anywhere. You’re the controlling shareholder. You don’t like it? I checked with your accountants and lawyers. It’s been steadily growing…” I babbled.

“Hey, come here,” Tony said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his lap. “I love it, and I love you.” He whispered into my ear. “Don't go pulling that self-doubt stuff, That's my game.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. “I love you too.”

“Alright, my turn,” Tony said, pulling out his phone from his pocket and opening up a picture collage that he projected out as a hologram. “Okay, so most of the stuff I got. You can't really put it in a box. So this is all for you, Red. You’ll find it in various places in the tower.

“You didn't. This is all… You went way overboard, Stark.” Nat gasped. “An Iron Widow suit, and a whole bunch of stuff for my spiders. Did you build this terrarium, too?”

“I did, super fancy one of a kind spider world,” Tony answered. “I know how you feel about those spiders.”

I nuzzled into Tony’s neck and rubbed his thigh. “That is so cool,” I whispered.

“Thanks,” Tony said, resting a hand on my knee.

“Alright, Lang. Your turn.” Nat handing over an enormous gift-wrapped in Black Widow paper.

He opened it up to find a framed photo of the team in action, Scott in his Giant-Man state. Along with that was a small action figure of each of them. “Oh man, this is so cool!” Scott babbled excitedly. “I can recreate the fight with, Cassie.”

“I’m glad you like it, bug,” Natasha said with a smile.

Scott messed around with the toys for a moment before he realized that everyone was staring at him. “Oh, I got Vision.” He said, jumping up and getting out a small gift bag. He handed it to Vision.

Vision pulled out a weird headband and turned it over in his hands. “It's an electromagnetic frequency device.” Vision said.

“Yeah, it'll let you talk to the ants,” Scott said with a nod.

“That will be very fascinating. I look forward to learning more about them. Thank you, Mr. Lang.” Vision said. He put the headband back into the bag and floated over, picking up two rectangular gifts and bringing them to Thor. Thor opened them one at a time. Both were books. One detailed Norse Mythology and the other a history of Earth from the time he was last here until now.

“That is very thoughtful. Thank you, friend.” Thor said looking the books over. He put them down picking up a long thin gift and handing it to Rhodey. “Machine of war, I drew you.”

Rhodey took it with a laugh and opened it. Inside was an ornate Asgardian Sword with Gold Hilt.

“Woah! That’s beautiful.” I said.

“Yes, it is.” Rhodey agreed. “Thank you, Thor. I'll put this on my sword wall. Rhodey said, getting up and handing a big gift bag to Steve.

You have a sword wall?” I asked as Steve started opening his gift.

“Well, I do now anyway” Rhodey joked.

Steve opens the bag and Bucky cracked up laughing. “A parachute, because you obviously need one. Good one Rhodes.” Bucky wheezed. The rest of us all started laughing too.

“Alright, I get it. I deserved that. Very funny, you guys.” Steve said

Rhodey held up a finger. “I got you a real gift.” He said, handing him a medium sized box.

Steve opened it a little hesitantly and revealed an array of art supplies. He looked up at Rhodey and gave him a big smile. “Thank you, I never would have been able to afford something like this back in the day. It means a lot.”

“Does that mean we're going to see more art from you, Steve?” I asked.

“It's a possibility,” Steve answered. “It's been a while, though. Not sure how it would look. Okay, Phil. You're up.” He grabbed a small box and handed it to Coulson. “I think you’ll like this one.”

Phil opened it and a small smirk crossed his face. “Vintage Captain America cards.” He said, picking them up. “And they're signed. Thanks, Cap.” The two embraced, patting each other on the back.

“Well, figured you earned them. You did die trying and all.” Steve teased.

“Thank you, Steve,” Phil said with a smile. “Okay, archer. You're up. But this isn't to be opened in front of the masses.” He handed Clint a box, and Clint peeked inside. His eyes went wide and he shut the lid. “Holy shit.” He said. “Alright, I already went, so is that everyone?”

“Yep. That's everyone. I think that means Christmas is over, everyone.” I answered, scrunching my nose.

“Alright. We did it, and we didn't kill anyone.” Sam joked.

“That's what he said.” Clint teases.

“Well, that was my best family Christmas yet. Thanks, everyone. I really appreciate you humoring me.” I said, ignoring Clint.

“Even with the birdbrain?” Natasha asked.

I nodded. “Surprisingly yeah.”

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