#it is way past christmas but i love him and still use him alongside his lancer ver | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tealfloyd · 11 months

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ANONYMOUS REQUESTED:

"Okay, okay! Hear me out on this: An MC who gifts every boy and the staff (minus Crowley) a specially made gift (alongside chocolate ofc) for Valentine's Day. For example, Riddle gets a bouquet of roses alongside heart-shaped chocolate, Ace getting a chocolate cherry pie and a watch, and Cater gets a skateboard and spicy chocolate.

I can just imagine the chaos that will ensue.

"Hey! Your chocolate is bigger than mine!"

"No fair! I wanted that too!"

Thank you and have a great day!"

AN UNTYPICAL VALENTINE’S

“Congratulations, MC. You have now become the Santa of Valentine’s Day!”

SUMMARY: It's Valentine's Day in Twisted Wonderland, and you already know what that means: a mix of chocolates and petty discussions~! (Everyone x Fem!Reader)

WARNINGS: None... Other than MC’s empty wallet.

CONTENT: Ortho doesn’t have a section, but his reaction is described in the introduction. Me trying to understand these boys and their past, so they might seem a little ooc. Also Lilia’s part may have end up a little too philosophical.

A/N: Okay okay. I know Valentine’s was five months ago, and that I was in an unexpected hiatus for more than six months, but I just really wanted to post this because this draft was eating me alive. Also, I don’t know why, but Pomefiore’s part was so difficult to write, and thus, I ended up giving up temporarily.

Annnd, I know that the request asked for the staff as well, but I didn’t want to make this longer than it already is, so I decided I will post it separately. Eventually.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! :)

WORDS: 10K+

Ah, Valentine’s Day. A lively festivity that encompasses love and friendship, usually celebrated by those who want to demonstrate affection to the people they care about the most, being in a platonic or a romantic way.

Yet, that’s talking outside of Night Raven College, an academy that’s full of eccentric students, and so, on behalf of that eccentricity, things are a little bit different.

And it all starts with your protective and small companion, Grim.

You finished checking your bag for the last time before leaving, assuring that all the chocolates and gifts you packed were inside, afraid of forgetting any of them in the dorm.

“Sevens, how am I going to carry this...?” You murmured while staring at the huge sack that contained all of your presents, thinking that it resembled the bag that a certain character would only use every Christmas.

All you did was sigh, mentally preparing yourself to carry that seemingly heavy Santa bag.

Or at least that’s what you were going to do, until a sleepy voice stopped you from doing so, effectively getting your attention.

“Where are you going, henchman...?” Grim groggily asked, yawning as he rubbed his eyes. “And why do you have that bag...?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Grim’s drowsy expression as you approached him, scratching his head lightly. “You see, since today is Valentine’s, I wanted to make something special for our friends, so—” And before you could finish your sentence, an excited scream echoed from the old dorm, startling you both.

"Did someone say Valentine's?!" Conrad yelled, cheerfully floating around.

"This brings back so many great memories! I still remember all the chocolates I've received when I was alive. Such great days~" Brawley said, his mind consumed by memories from his past, all while wearing a nostalgic smile.

"Oh, what do we have here~?" Arthur asked, curiosity getting the best out of him as he picked some of the presents that were at the top. "Some gifts for your friends, perhaps~?" He teased, wiggling his eyebrows in a funny manner.

Letting out a soft chuckle while trying to calm Grim down—who was certainly not happy after the abrupt appearance—, you answered. “Indeed, it’s Valentine’s after all. Do they meet your expectations?” You jokingly asked, prompting a playful laughter from the trio of ghosts.

“I absolutely approve them, but I don’t know if those students will.”

“It's obvious they will! She even has personalized chocolates for all of them!”

“That’s true... I wonder how long it took you to prepare all of this.”

They commented, starting a light chat about the festivity, all laughing and having fun. However, in between the funny remarks and jokes, Grim had enough, whining in annoyance as his brain tried its best to understand what was happening.

“What are ya’ talking about?” He complained, turning to look at you with an angry expression. “Henchman! Explain this madness!”

“Well, Grim,” you started, trying to find the correct words to clarify the meaning of this holiday to him. “Valentine’s Day is—“ Although it seemed that you didn’t have to in the first place, seeing that you were once again interrupted by your strangely excited fellows.

“Oh!”, Brawley exclaimed. “Can we explain it?”

“Yeah, we’re the best people, er- Ghosts when it comes to Valentine’s,” Arthur enthusiastically stated.

“Can we make the explanation, MC?” Conrad asked, and since you didn’t want to ruin their happiness, you agreed.

“The floor is yours,” and with that cue, they stood in front of a confused Grim, who looked at you with slight fear and overall confusion.

It took you a few moments to realize that they took it quite literally as you listened to their old-styled song about the festivity, which maybe overused the word “love” in a romantic way... Yet, it was a detail that you didn’t pay much attention to, instead deciding to enjoy the show.

But someone that didn’t take this lightly was Grim, being that a certain sentence was starting to repeat in his mind over and over again: “A day when love stories start! Who would be the next one to take this important step~?”

He was so alarmed that he missed the part where they explained that it was also a day to share with friends, so the first thing that passed through his head was: “They’re tryin’ to steal my henchman! I cannot let that happen!”

And so, a genius idea was born.

“I’ll go with you, henchman!” He suddenly exclaimed, taking you by surprise, frowning in response.

“Really?” You inquired, and so did the ghosts, adding themselves to the confusion train while raising an eyebrow.

“What? I’m just sayin’ I’m going with you!” Grim repeated, further confusing you four.

“Yes, I heard that, but why...?”

“Why not?” Your companion said, avoiding answering since he knew you were going to tease him about it, instead choosing to walk towards the front door.

“Why though…?” You questioned for the last time, eyeing him with suspicion as you made your way towards the door, picking the bag—that was, to your surprise, much lighter than you thought—in the process.

“We don’t have time for this! If we hurry, we can come back in time for dinner!”

Now that was the Grim you remembered, and even if you never thought that hearing that sentence would make you relieved your wallet isn’t pleased to hear this though, this time it certainly did.

“Okay, let’s go then,” you said, turning to your translucent companions—who still had their mouths wide open, very much resembling to a cartoon—to wave them goodbye.

“Goodbye, guys! We will see you later! The song was amazing, by the way!” Was the last thing you said before closing the door, snapping the ghosts out of their trance.

“Aw! She loved our song!” Was the first thing Conrad said, happy that you liked their performance, not noticing the strange looks he received from the other two.

“Is he just going to ignore the fact that Grim seemed suspiciously protective over MC?” Arthur asked, and Brawley shook his head, disagreeing with him.

“It’s not weird that Grim is protective over her, that’s like a world-known fact,” he paused for a second, as if trying to think of the results of your sincere actions. “I’m more intrigued by how those boys would react upon receiving such a lovely gift from their oblivious love interest.”

And that, my dear Brawley, is what are we going to witness today.

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, FIRST STOP: HEARTSLABYUL

Heartslabyul was your first dorm of choice, and that was because you knew everyone will be in the same place at the same time. It was supposed to be easy; go in and go out.

Yet, what was the first thing you heard when entering the dorm’s living room? Screams. Certainly one of the most welcoming sounds while stepping into a place that embraces the idea of discipline.

Seeing that the other students (or at least most of them) were minding their own business, you thought it was not that big of a deal. After greeting the ones that weren’t busy, you both walked over to the kitchen, encountering a not so peculiar scene: Riddle arguing with Ace.

"Guys?" You asked, eyebrow raised as you wondered what happened.

"Oh, Prefect!" Cater exclaimed, cheerfully approaching you. "Thanks for appearing! This situation was #stressingmeout," he commented, thankful for your presence.

"Prefect," Riddle said after coughing slightly, attempting to compose himself. "What brings you here?"

“Well, since I assume you already know what day it is, I thought it would be nice to gift you some chocolates,” you voiced, chuckled at the expressions of your friends as you gave them their respective presents, who were pretty much baffled to hear that. “Or maybe you don’t know, and the heart motifs everywhere are misleading.”

The ones that caught up the fastest were Trey and Cater what a surprise, promptly putting two and two together and realising the reason behind your sudden but cute action.

"Sevens, is it Valentine's already?" Trey questioned, placing a hand on his hat to cover his face due to the embarrassment.

"Are these for us~?" Cater excitedly asked, already pulling out his phone to document this moment. "They are totes cute! Thanks, Prefect!" He said, taking dozens of pictures of the little red box.

“Valentine’s...?” Deuce muttered, face turning pale after his brain clicked and realised what that meant. “I’m sorry, MC! I don’t have a present for you!” He quickly apologised, bowing before you.

"You don't have to give me anything, you know?" You assured, trying to ease his concern. "I just wanted to gift you all something as thanks for all your help and support, and for being my friends, of course."

And that is how you make the Heartslabyul (and pretty much anyone in NRC) students blush in mere seconds; if these guys weren’t blushing before, now they undoubtedly are.

"Yeah, yeah, enough of these speeches!" Grim chimed, wanting to move onto the next dorm already. "We don't have all day! Let's go, henchman!"

"Geez, what has got into you today?" You said, turning to the students to wave them goodbye. "I have to go now; I hope you liked the— Agh! Grim, stop pushing me!"

In an instant, the two of you departed, leaving behind five startled students who were speechless by the sudden turn of events.

Riddle’s heart-shaped chocolates match his new bouquet of red roses.

Riddle never had a Valentine’s Day celebration before. Mainly because his mom, being the main factor in his life, used to call the holiday a “disruptive event,” and so, he ended up thinking that Valentine’s was an unnecessary and dumb festivity. You can now assume he doesn't think that anymore. As everyone already guessed, this boy was red; in fact, if you inspected his face closely enough, you would notice that his cheeks were tinted with the same shade the flowers gifted to him had, which he used to cover his face. And don’t get me started when he saw the chocolates; he nearly dropped the box out of embarrassment, not believing that you were bold enough to give him heart-shaped chocolates... But it’s not like he’s complaining so please gift this boy more heart-shaped sweets.

Trey’s hazelnut chocolates match his new set of heart measuring spoons.

Trey doesn’t know how he could’ve possibly forgotten about Valentine’s; his family owns a bakery, by the Sevens! He must’ve had the date imprinted on his mind by now! He's just wondering how he didn't think about it before while looking at the gifts, feeling a bit guilty that he didn't have anything for you. Although... That doesn't mean he wouldn't focus on your kind-hearted present, after all, who could after receiving such a detailed gift of your dear romantic interest friend? Immediately after this, he knows that he has to make something for you as well; something to remind you how special you are. Hence, why his mind is in a whirlwind of ideas, contemplating which chocolate would best match your taste, and what’s better, he can use that cute set of spoons you just gifted him.

Cater’s spicy pumpkin chocolates match his new skateboard.

Cater was very aware that today was Valentine's Day. Like, it's Cater we're talking about. He literally spent the entire week thinking of gift ideas for a friend crush in order to find the perfect one for you. He just wasn't expecting for you to pull an uno reverse card on him, or at least not before he gave you your gift. Less to say that he was over the moon with this action; he already had a new wallpaper and ten new posts featuring his new possessions. He was so excited that he forgot he had something for you, and by the time he remembered you were already gone. He figures out he can drop by Ramshackle later, but it didn't take long for him to realise that everyone would have the same idea. Oh well, what a perfect occasion to have a new skateboard~.

Ace’s chocolate-covered cherries match his new frog watch.

Ace has never been a big fan of Valentine's. After breaking up with his first girlfriend, he ended up disliking the romantic idea of the holiday. Though that didn't mean that he didn't like the presents and the chocolates, which he would sometimes receive. He used to feel confident when receiving those, yet he didn't give them too much importance, so he doesn't understand why he was blushing over some chocolate-covered cherries and a stupid frog watch. Like, are you mocking him, MC? Do you really think that he would use such a dumb thing? He definitely doesn't think that this is so cute coming from you, and he definitely is not going to use that watch everyday spoiler alert, he is definitely going to.

Deuce’s cinnamon flavored chocolate eggs match his chicken plushie.

Deuce isn't very versed when it comes to Valentine's. He did celebrate it with his mom, but that was literally it. The only times he received chocolates and other gifts were from anonymous letters, but he thought it was a joke, so he never tried to find the author (which ended up being a girl that had a huge crush on him). Hence why this boy is worried. He definitely appreciates you and your gifts, because it’s not every day that you get a Valentine’s gift from your crush! Like, what is he supposed to give you (even though you said it was fine) after you took the time and effort to elaborate such a wholesome gift? He ends up worrying so much about it that the chocolate has probably melted by now. But don’t worry, his plushie is still safe and sound!

You may be thinking that “they ended up living happy forever after,” right? No. That’s not how Heartslabyul works.

"Hey! Why is your chocolate bigger than mine?!"

"How is that my fault...? Hey! Stop trying to steal my chocolates!"

"There's no need to fight. I'm sure that the Prefect made sure to make everyone's chocolates equally."

"Yeah! You should worry about what to gift her instead~"

“I will take my leave then. You're free to come with me to try to find something that she would like.”

"Why did that sound so condescending...?"

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, SECOND STOP: SAVANACLAW

Savanaclaw’s was the second dorm you entered, and even if you loved the dorm, you weren’t sure how your chocolates were going to handle its weather because, surprise surprise: heat and chocolates do not go well together. Unless they like melted chocolate.

The situation didn’t seem to go any better, as you didn’t know where could the Savanaclaw students be. Well, all of them except for Leona, who was comfortably sleeping on the living room’s couch.

“Maybe we should find the others first. I don’t want to wake—” You commented, being abruptly interrupted by Grim and his yells, sighing upon the situation. “—Him up.”

"Hey, sleeping beauty! Wake up!" Your companion shouted, about to jump on his stomach before you grabbed him, keeping Grim from doing anything he might regret.

“Why are you being so goddamn loud...?” Leona grumbled, groggily standing up with a scowl on his face due to the sudden awakening. Looking at Grim, fully aware that he was the nuisance that interrupted his sleep, he sent him a threatening stare.

Before Grim could reply (or try to, at the very least), you stopped him from doing so, further explaining why you were in the dorm to begin with.

"I'm sorry, Leona. I'm sure it wasn't Grim's intention to wake you up in such a rude way," you stated, briefly glaring at the pouting creature.

"That's not true! And don't think that you've scared the great Grim! I—" Deciding that it was enough, you started to scratch behind his ear, sending an apologetic smile to the dorm leader in front of you, who seemed to be a little annoyed jealous of this action.

"I brought Valentine's presents for all of you," you answered, momentarily shocking the lion for a few seconds before his lips erupted into a smirk.

"Valentine's, huh?" He remarked, stepping closer towards you. "Then I guess today's the perfect day to—"

And just like we saw before (and will continue to see), Leona was interrupted, because students at this college apparently don’t like when people are about to finish their sentences.

Ruggie and Jack weren't far away from where you three were. In fact, both of them were preparing their meals before they heard your voice coming from the living room.

And when they decided to check, what's the first thing they see upon exiting the kitchen? His dorm leader shamelessly flirting with you at a really close distance while you carried a sleepy Grim.

"What do we have here~?" Ruggie chimed, walking towards your side so he could be near you. "What can we do for you, Prefect~?" He asked, ignoring Leona's death stare.

"And why did you bring such a large bag?" Jack questioned, making the two beastmen suddenly notice the heavy bag you were carrying on your shoulders.

"Glad you asked, Jack," you replied, looking through your bag’s different contents until you finally reached the ones that were labelled after them. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Immediately following your statement, you presented them with their respective gifts, easily recognizable by the distinct yellow hue of the packaging.

The beastmen’s cheeks were slowly turning into a bright red after receiving the present, treating the little package like the most precious thing on earth, which was true, at least in their eyes.

"Are these… For us…?" Ruggie hesitated, unsure of how he should react.

"Duh! Didn't you just hear her?!" Grim said, annoyance showing in his voice.

"You're just jealous you didn't get anything," Leona guessed, smirking upon seeing how irked he got by that teasing comment.

"I'm sorry, MC, but I don't have anything for you," Jack apologised, and before he could even think of bowing before you, you stopped him.

"You don't have to give me anything. As long as you like the present, I have nothing to worry about," you explained with a small smile, starting to walk towards the exit. "Unfortunately, I can't stay for much longer. So, I guess I will see you later!"

And with that, you managed to leave just before your fluffy companion started to complain.

Leona’s smoked dark chocolates match his new lion pendant.

Leona isn’t that used to celebrating holidays, and Valentine’s wasn’t the exception. He would sometimes receive large amounts of gifts, ranging from expensive jewelry to different sets of clothing; things that he would just leave unused and forgotten. But your gift is a different story. You can be sure this man is going to use that necklace until he dies. He’s not going to entertain the possibility of it going missing in the depths of his bedroom, already frowning at the imaginary scenario of looking at your sad face while you ask where his gift was. He even clicks his tongue in annoyance, putting on the pendant to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere. Let’s see how fast you catch on this one, herbivore.

Ruggie’s mini donuts covered in chocolate match his new handmade bracelet.

Ruggie hasn't received, nor gifted a Valentine's gift ever. Holiday presents were (and still are) something that he deems as important and special. The only times when he did gift something to someone were during birthdays and as thanks, and vice versa. He’s not used to receiving presents outside those situations, and what’s even more surprising to him is that you were the one that brought the gift. Actually, no; what’s more surprising than that is that you don’t want anything in return, something that really caught him off guard. Less to say that he is going to be over-protecting those presents; this was something that you made for him and him only, and so it shall continue that way except the donuts, he can’t let them rot, can he?

Jack’s pear cider chocolates match his new snowboarding gloves.

Jack has actually received quite a few Valentine’s gifts, but the thing is, just like Deuce, he still doesn’t know who the person behind those presents was. He never paid a lot of attention to it at the time, and so he continued with his life. Now he’s aware that he had to paid attention before. The one day that he doesn’t check the calendar ends up being Valentine’s Day; I can completely assure you that he’s setting up an alarm for the next one, also adding to the reminder some present ideas that say: “you’re my crush,” but don’t scream it. When you leave, he stands so still you can mistake him for a statue; if statues could wag their tail, of course.

Savanaclaw is savage what a shock, right? These boys would not even let the other one stand next to their present. Sevens, they wouldn’t even let them breathe next to their present.

"I feel sorry for you. That's really all the Herbivore got you?"

"At least I will make sure to use it. I wonder how long it will take before that pendant disappears."

"What did you say?"

"I guess I will see you later. I don't want to be a part of this."

"Hey, come back!"

"We haven't even started on your present!"

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, THIRD STOP: OCTAVINELLE

Octavinelle, as your following choice, felt like a secure place. You were almost sure you were going to find your friends in the blink of an eye, give them their gifts and head to the next dorm. Yet the variable you didn’t have into account was considering how empty and eerie the dorm appeared at first glance.

"Henchman?" Grim started.

"Yeah?" You answered, slowly walking towards the Mostro Lounge.

"Don't ya’ think there's something fishy going on today?"

"What do you mean?"

"Floyd and Jade aren't here."

And upon that remark, you stopped. Looking around to try to spot your usually welcome committee, you noted that Grim was correct. Jade and Floyd were nowhere to be found, slightly confusing you.

"Well, today must be a busy day at the Mostro Lounge. They are most likely working," you said, resuming your walk.

Although Grim didn’t seem to want to continue the walk, scared to be a victim of whatever evil scheme the eels were plotting.

You assured that you wouldn’t let anything happen to him on your guard, to which he responded by saying he didn’t need your protection, rambling about how you dared to think he wasn't strong enough to protect you— Ahem, to protect himself and you, until he suddenly stopped.

"Henchman," he started again.

"Yeah?" you answered a second time.

"I think there's someone behind us—"

Noticing two large shadows that covered yours, you both slowly turned around, encountering two identical faces that looked down on you with a sly smile, vocalizing:

"Shrimpy~!"

"What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Prefect."

Grim let out a high-pitched scream, hiding behind your legs due to the shock, unaware of the death stare that Floyd directed at him.

"Ah, Jade, Floyd. We were just talking about you," you said, sighing in relief upon listening to their characteristic voices.

"Wah~! Did you hear that, Jade? Shrimpy was looking for me~" Floyd exclaimed, to which his twin only chuckled.

"I heard that she was looking for both of us, in fact," and before his brother could whine in response, Jade added. "Why would that be, Prefect?"

"Before I answer to that, do you know where Azul is?" you asked, looking behind them in hopes that the octomerman would appear.

"Azul? Oh, that's right," Jade let out a small smile. "He must be looking for us."

"Eh~? But I don't want to go back!" Floyd whined, thinking about what he could do to avoid going to work again. "Oh!" He exclaimed, an imaginary light bulb appearing over his head. "I can hide behind you, right, Shrimpy~?"

"You can try, but I don't think it would do much," you responded, and just when he was about to do it, you heard a yell coming from the end of the hallway.

"Jade! Floyd!" Azul screamed, walking over to where you were. "Do I need to remind you that you are still working? If you continue—"

"Hello, Azul," you greeted, seeing how the businessman yelped due to the surprise, unaware that you were behind Jade. "Great timing, I was about to look after you."

"Prefect!" He exclaimed, unconsciously tidying himself up, trying to distract you from his earlier action. "And why did you want to see me?" He stuttered, cheeks tinted of a light pink.

"I'm sure you already know what day is today, so I'm just going to give you these," you briefly explained, handing all of them their respective gifts and chocolates. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

"Valentine's...?" Floyd muttered, face brightening up due to the excitement. "Does this mean Shrimpy loves me~?" He boldly asked, trying to get a shy reaction out of you, all while Azul covered his face in embarrassment, making this scenario all the much more entertaining to Jade, who was lightly chucking.

Yet when all of this unfolded, you talked, saying something that took all three of them by surprise. “Of course, I love you all after all,” you replied with a bright and contagious smile; it was at that moment that Grim realised that if he didn't do anything about this soon, they wouldn't let you go, and he can't let that happen.

"Henchman! We have to get going! Is gonna take us forever to finish if we stay here!"

You sighed at Grim’s impatient behavior, not really understanding where it was coming from. But he was right; your chocolates weren’t going to last a whole day outside, they just weren’t made for that kind of purpose.

"As you see, me and my new guardian have to get going, so I will see you later," you joked, being weakly dragged by your companion, biding them farewell (hoping that Floyd wasn’t going to carry you like a sack of potatoes, again).

Azul’s blueberry flavoured chocolate coins match his new octopus coin.

Azul didn't really care about Valentine's (and no, it’s not because he was made fun of constantly during this day, why would you think that? It was, please give this boy lots of hugs and support); the only reason keeps track of it is that he knows it's a very profitable holiday. And I said "didn't" because that was before he realised that he had a crush on you... Okay, maybe Jade made him aware, but he still realised it. He spent the last couple of months planning the perfect plan to confess to you or at least try to, but this wasn't on his schedule. He marked this situation as "very improbable," hence why he looks like he has a fever. Furthermore, he tries to dissimulate it since he doesn't want the twins to make fun of him (again), but it's too late. A flustered Azul is always going to be interesting to witness.

Jade’s chocolate shaped mushrooms (like the Meiji Kinoko Chocolate), match his new decorations for his terrariums.

Jade is sort of neutral about Valentine's. He's not one that usually gives gifts (he definitely gave Floyd some mushrooms as a Valentine’s gift, and you can tell he was not happy about it), but he has definitely received a couple of presents, which he usually doesn’t keep unless they're interesting enough. But, if he's being honest, he wouldn't throw away anything that you gift to him; most people would call it "simping", he calls it "courtesy." His first reaction is to smile upon receiving it, yet unlike most of his mannerisms (which he keeps very controlled), this was something that to the untrained eye would go unnoticed, yet his twin and his boss childhood friend know that there's a hint of genuine happiness in it.

Floyd’s sea salt caramel lego-shaped chocolates match his new eel bracelet with his name on it.

Unlike his brother, Floyd thinks Valentine's is a very interesting holiday. He considers it the “funniest” day just because he finds the rejected Valentine’s faces so amusing. One thing he has in common with Jade though, is that he doesn't keep most of the presents given to him, especially if he can't see the reaction of the person. So, to meet his expectations you have to: one, give it to him directly, and two, wait for the best. Fortunately, we're talking about you, so that’s good news for you. Although the bad news is that you only have two options now that you’ve given him something: run or face his clinginess.

If you didn’t know who these students were, you wouldn’t be amused, but if you do, well, it certainly was strange seeing all three (especially Floyd) staying idle in the middle of the hallway just... Existing.

"Why are you standing there? Go back to work."

"Aren't you going with us, boss?"

"Yeah! That's really unfair!"

"I have some important things that I have to take care of."

"Really? How strange, I remember you said that you had some paperwork to do."

"Oh~ Jade caught you lying, Azul~"

"Just go back to work, and don't even think about following me."

"Do you want to follow him, Jade~?"

"Of course, Floyd."

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, FOURTH STOP: SCARABIA

Since Scarabia was your next stop, you were a bit worried. Mainly because Scarabia’s weather, just like Savanaclaw, wasn’t the ideal for your chocolates to be in. Yet, something that kept your hopes high was your positivism, assuring yourself (in order to not panic) that you were going to find your friends rapidly.

"Henchman, don't ya' think we should hurry? I don't think those chocolates can stand this heat."

"I know, it’s starting to worry me," you responded, face changing from concern to determination. "But I think I know where they could be."

Grim tilted his head, as if asking: "What do you mean?"

"I called Kalim earlier to ask him about his and Jamil's plans. They don't stay in one place for long, so it was only to be sure."

"And where are they then?"

"Right here," you stated, standing in front of a big door: the one that contained all of Kalim's treasures.

You grabbed the handle, ready to open it when suddenly, the door pulled towards you. It collided with your forehead, making you lose your balance slightly, trying to not fall since it could make it worse.

"Prefect!" The Scarabia students exclaimed, worried and confused about what just happened. "Are you okay?!"

"It's okay, I'm okay," you reassured them, holding your head as a reflexive reaction.

"Henchman! Can you hear me?!" Grim yelled, making you wince slightly due to the headache. "How dare ya', pesky humans! She could have died!"

"I'm so sorry, Prefect! Do you need to go to the infirmary? Jamil and I can bring you there!" Kalim exclaimed; eyes full of concern out of fear of something severe happening to you.

"Don't worry, Kalim. I know it was an accident," you said, feeling much better now that they were starting to quiet down. “I’m sure it’s not going to leave a scar or something.”

"Prefect, are you completely sure? We don't have any problem accompanying you to the nurse," Jamil suggested, but you refused.

"Guys, seriously, I'm fine," you said, crouching down, so you could look for their gifts. "Now onto the thing I wanted to talk about..." You handed them the presents and chocolates. "Happy Valentine's."

"Valentine's...?" Kalim asked, thinking about something for a moment before an imaginary light bulb appeared over his head. "Oh, that's right! We also have a present for you as well! Right, Jamil?"

Jamil didn't answer, seemingly lost for a few seconds until he snapped out of his trance. "Yeah, that's right," he answered, murmuring a little "thanks," loud enough for you to hear.

"It's nothing. I hope you like it, I tried to make them the best I could."

Before they could show you your gift, Grim had enough of this and decided that it was time to move on, practically dragging you outside Scarabia.

"Goodbye guys, maybe we can see each other later— Grim! Stop pulling me! I only have this pair of pants!"

Kalim and Jamil may be very different, but if they had one thing in common as of right now is that they were completely happy to receive such a heartfelt gift.

Kalim’s coconut chocolates match his new friendship bracelet.

Kalim has definitely received plenty of Valentine's chocolates and gifts in equal amounts, even if most of them came from his parents and his thirty siblings. All of this made Kalim believe that celebrating Valentine’s like that was very normal to be honest, it’s more of a lovely Halloween than most things, but that’s fine, it’s Kalim; at least, the platonic side of it. This could explain why it felt kind of odd when he received your gift, but don’t worry! It’s a good type of odd. He knows that he has a crush on you Jamil’s courtesy, so this gave him the slight hope that you might see him more than a friend one day. And even if not, he’s totally okay with it, since he will still be able of being your friend.

Jamil’s chili pepper chocolates match his new talking parrot plushie.

Jamil isn’t very fond of Valentine’s. It is not a surprise that he didn’t receive as many gifts as Kalim, but he never showed his discomfort to not anger his family; after all, he already knew that he just wasn’t made to give and receive something like that, or at least, that was his mentality until you and your adorable present came into the picture. He just thinks you’re a box full of surprises He had absolutely no idea that he was going to fall for you, but just like he never expected to like you, you surprised him with a gift. You gifted him something. MC, let me tell you that if he wasn’t head over heels for you, he now is.

Scarabia is by far the most normal one out the seven dorms. They’re happy, and that’s all. The difference is that one of them shows it and the other doesn’t.

“Did you see that, Jamil?! She said she made them herself!”

“Yes, Kalim, I heard it. You don’t have to yell”

“Oh, right, sorry!”

“...”

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, FIFTH STOP: POMEFIORE

Pomefiore, being the next one on your list, gave you hope. Hope that maybe your original plan will work, and that you would be able to leave quickly enough to continue the rest of your long journey.

But, as you already may have guessed, things can’t be that simple.

“How strange...” You muttered, walking away from the common room after finding it empty. “Where could they be?”

“Nyah! It’s gonna take us forever to find them!” Grim whined, already tired from all the searching. “Can’t we just leave the gifts at their doors?”

“I’m not going to do that, Grim,” you stated, intently searching for your friends. “The whole point of this was to hand them the presents personally, even if it takes me the whole day.” Believe me, MC. It is going to take you the whole day.

“But we can’t just expect them to appear out of nowhere!” He claimed, unaware of the towering figures that stood right behind him after voicing those words.

“Yes, that seems certainly impossible,” Vil said, scaring Grim to the point where he climbed to your arms, hissing at the student. “Oh, did I scare you?” He teased, a bit more playful than usual.

“For your information, ya’ didn’t scare me!” Your companion quickly retorted, and although he tried to come up with an excuse to fight back, you stepped in to prevent a petty argument—certainly a wise decision—.

“So, before Grim can start a discussion here, in the middle of the hallway. Again,” you called out, eyeing him, trying to make him understand the hint. “I would like to give you these.”

“Are these... Gifts?” Epel asked, unsure of why the sudden display of affection. “Why are ya’ giving us this...?”

“Epel, don’t be disrespectful,” Vil corrected, sighing upon seeing that his little apprentice apparently didn’t know what day it was.

“You see, Monsieur Crabapple. Today is the magnifique holiday called Valentine’s Day!” Rook briefly clarified, proceeding to deliver a monologue embellished with fancy words, listing all the wonderful things that Valentine’s entailed. “How wonderful out of you, dear Trickster, to grace us with these detailed presents!”

The hunter approached you, taking your hands in his as he gazed into your eyes, seemingly aware of the looks he was receiving from his housewarden and dorm fellow.

It wasn’t until Vil coughed that Rook stopped, only chuckling slightly while leaving your hand, not wanting to infuriate his beautiful friend.

“They do seem very elaborate. So, I’m grateful for this present, dear potato,” he thanked, looking at Epel to remind him that he hadn’t thanked you yet.

“Oh! Thank you for these gifts, MC. I’m sorry that I don’t have anything to give you in return...” The boy apologized, making you sigh once again.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” You commented, amused at your friend’s sincere words. “I’m not doing this in exchange for gifts. This is a gift to thank you all for being amazing friends.”

Ouch. Collective friend-zoning. That must’ve hurt.

“Yet, we do have presents for you, ma chérie,” Rook voiced, not wanting you to go before you received their display of affection.

“Indeed. We don’t have them here, but—”

“No!” Grim interrupted, having enough of the whole conversation. “Henchman, it’s getting late and, we still have lots of gifts to deliver!” He said, trying to convince you to get out of Pomefiore before Vil and Rook’s charms trapped you there.

You turned to the students, doing an apologetic bow before explaining. “I’m sorry, he’s right. I can’t stay for much longer. But I appreciate the intention, and I hope to see you later— Grim! Why are you so impatient?!”

“We have to keep moving! So say goodbye to them already!” The little creature demanded, threatening to rip the hem on your pants.

“Okay, okay! Goodbye, guys! Maybe we can meet later!” Was the last thing they heard you say before disappearing behind a corner with your protective monster-cat.

And so, surprised and with rosy cheeks that weren’t part of their makeup, they headed towards the— Oh, it seems like they don’t remember anymore... You’re giving people amnesia, MC.

Vil's chocolate-covered berries match his new bouquet of violets.

Vil has a long history with Valentine’s Day; specifically the gift part of Valentine’s. This man right here has received countless gifts and cards from fans and people around him confessing their love in extravagant—and sometimes expensive—ways. He’s used to this by this point, but his balance point was broken the moment you decided to hand him that present. Dear potato, have you ever thought about being the partner of a renowned celebrity? No...? Well, would you like to? Because Vil takes this detail as your way of expressing your fondness for him. Sure, you said it was because he’s an ‘amazing friend’ (which he obviously is), but that doesn’t mean you can’t see him as more than a friend. After all, Vil’s patience is truly one of his virtues just don’t tell him you have a gift for Neige. You know, only if you want him to live a bit longer.

Rook’s mint chocolates match his new poetry book.

Oh dear, when I say no one at Night Raven College loves Valentine’s as much as Rook does, I’m being completely serious. We’re talking about a holiday that’s all about expressing love, and taking into account that Rook calls himself “le chasseur d’amore...” There’s not much left to piece together, is it. He is mesmerized by this gift; it doesn’t matter if you said it was to appreciate his friendship, he’s focusing on the fact that you, kind and wholehearted you, seemed to put so much effort to make this present that was for him and him only. Oh, beautiful Trickster; I hope you are prepared, for this dedicated hunter is going to be next at your feet expressing his admiration and appreciation for you in a very... ‘Rook manner,’ for the next couple of days... Or weeks. Maybe months, but it’s not like he didn’t do that from before, so that’s fine.

Epel’s chocolate-dipped apple rings match his new apple plushie (with an evil smile, may I add)

Epel isn’t really involved in Valentine’s. His experience with it consists of him occasionally receiving some gifts from his family and carving out some apples with Valentine’s elements on them. Being the only young boy in a village full of elderly people, we can assume that he never really got into touch with the romantic part of the holiday; at least, not until now. And I have to congratulate you, MC; you just made Epel’s face resemble an apple, and all because of your thoughtfulness. Now, does he think that having plushies is manly? No. But will he put your gift aside because of this? No. Not only because it will make you sad, but also because he assumes it wouldn’t be so bad to have an evil apple plushie in his room. You know, at least it’s evil, and that makes it a bit more manly. Sevens Epel, a manly apple-?

Pomefiore are just turning on the passive-aggressive mode. Nothing can stop these boys from feeling superior just because they received a personalized gift (which everyone got, but let’s not ruin their fantasy).

“Isn’t our belle Trickster so endearing. To take her precious time by making all of us these detailed gifts; ah, what a beautiful way to celebrate Valentine’s!”

“Although yours doesn’t seem that detailed, Rook. Are ya’ happy with that pocket diary?”

“I could ask the same to you, Epel. Although I may say that plushie compliments you.”

“Quit that, please...”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Monsieur Crabapple! The magnifique shade of this plushie truly enhances your beauty!”

“I’m not going to ask you anything from today onwards...”

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, SIXTH STOP: IGNIHYDE

Ignihyde had to be the easier dorm to “infiltrate” so far. The housewarden was known for being a programming genius, but also, and most important of all, for staying in his room.

It was a fool-proof plan. Entering Ignihyde, encountering Ortho along the way, and finally, greet Idia at his bedroom Nothing could go wrong.

And this may surprise you, but contrary to all the things that happened to you today, nothing went wrong. In fact, the list of events I just spelled did happen in that order.

After entering Ignihyde, you were greeted with the usual sight of an almost empty living room, saluting the few students that weren’t occupied with winning an intense game of Animal Crossing.

Subsequent to the first stage of your plan, you encountered the youngest Shroud brother while walking towards the oldest, seeing his cheerful face approach you with a welcoming voice.

“Hello, MC! What brings you here today?” Ortho said, instantly noting the large bag behind your bag. “And why are you carrying that bag? Are my brother and you going to study today?”

You giggled at his comment, shaking your head in refusal. “Not exactly. I’m here to gift Idia a Valentine’s present.” You explained, followed by asking if he was in his room.

Ortho stayed silent for a couple seconds, quickly searching for the holiday you just mentioned, and when he knew what it was about... Let’s just say that his expectations of you confessing to Idia (because honestly, at this point he knows his brother isn’t going to, for now, at least) were rising like the sky-high.

“Of course! My brother will be very happy to see you and to receive your awesome present, MC!” The little one answered, taking you by your hand to guide you to Idia’s room.

As soon as he arrived, Ortho knocked on the door, patiently waiting for his brother’s response.

“What is it, Ortho?” Idia asked, lazily opening the door, thinking that Ortho had come up with another plan to hang out with you. Jokes on him, no plan was needed, as you were right in front of him, a wide smile plastered over your face. “MC—!” He blurted out, surprised to see you.

“Hello, Idia,” you exclaimed, assuming that it would be best if you explained the meaning behind your visit. “I know you may be busy, and I don’t intend to take much of your time. I just wanted to give you this,” and thus you gifted the blue haired boy a small blue box, alongside a translucent bag of chocolates.

“Huh...? W-why are you giving me this...?” The boy questioned, only to be smacked with a reality check by remembering all the special side quests he completed regarding the love and friendship’s special day. “Oh. OH—”

In the blink of an eye his hair goes from blue to a bright pink, not giving you enough time to comment about it since he shuts the door just as fast, too embarrassed to pronounce a word other than a small: “thank you.”

“Brother! Are you okay? Your heart rate is going extremely fast!” Ortho voiced, not really helping Idia’s situation don’t tell him that, he’ll get sad.

“Don’t worry, Ortho. I’m pretty sure Idia’s okay. He must’ve been taken aback, that’s all.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely fine and we should definitely go to deliver these last presents,” Grim suggested, already making his way back to the mirror chamber.

“Not so fast, Grim. I have yet to give Ortho his gift.” The mentioned raised an eyebrow, certainly not expecting that.

“A gift? For me?” He uttered while moving his head to the side in curiosity.

“Yeah, for you,” you reiterated, handing him a little box—no chocolates this time because, well, he’s a robot—. “I hope you like it. You can place them wherever you want, and they also got little chains in case you want to bring them with you.”

He stares at the keychains, looking at the similar characteristics between him, his brother, Grim and you; and with a bright smiley face, he exclaims: “thank you, MC! I will make sure to take great care of these!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We have to keep going, if you don’t mind.”

“Goodbye, Ortho. And goodbye, Idia! Hope you like your present too!” You voiced, unsure if he heard you or not.

Oh, and indeed he heard you, it’s just that he’s a little too occupied trying to not die from cuteness overload— Never mind, he just short-circuited.

Idia’s peanut butter chocolates match his new videogame.

Taking into account his past, we can safely say that Idia didn’t really have a lot of experience with Valentine’s, aside from the games, that’s for sure. He never gave or received any chocolates nor gifts, and you know what? He was fine with that; just enjoying his games and not worrying about love and romance at least irl, because this man proclaims himself as an expert when it comes to ships in manga and video games. He was fine, and now he isn’t. His mind is flooded with too many questions, like: why on earth would you give him anything? Is it because of social etiquette or because you wanted to? How did you get your hands on this game? Should he take this as a sign to finally confess his undeniable crush on you—? Okay, he may have gone a little too far with that one. But don’t worry! He is going to do it, it’s just that it might take a bit of time. He’s absolutely going to gift you something back, don’t doubt it. But you may want to wait after the short-circuit passes.

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, SEVENTH AND FINAL STOP: DIASOMNIA

Now, you knew that Diasomnia was going to be a tough one. Firstly, you were sure there was going to be a lot of shouting (Sebek’s courtesy), followed by Lilia, and possibly Malleus’ teasing. Silver was the only one that didn’t really do much apart from being the most normal being out of the four that’s a compliment, Silver. You make MC’s life a bit easier.

“Okay, Grim,” you started, happy upon seeing that this was the last location. “After this, we can go back to Ramshackle and eat the dinner you were so impatient for. Isn’t that exciting?”

No response.

“Well, I know you’re tired, but I have to thank you for accompanying me today. Even if you were a bit rude and odd, it really means a lot that—”

“The Great Grim is going to fight all of you...!” He interrupted, mumbling incoherent things while you looked at his sleeping face, not sure when or how he fell asleep.

“I should have guessed that a whole day of walking may end up in this,” you muttered, carefully lifting him up so he could rest in your shoulders, trying to accommodate him the best you could as you made your way towards the Witch of Thorns’ dorm.

If felt strange having Grim by your side and not hearing him chit-chat with his characteristic tone, after all, it’s not like Grim and silence usually got along unless he was sleeping or reprimanded.

Feeling a bit bored, you started to hum softly, slowly strolling to find the garden, where you thought your friends might be.

It didn’t take long for you to encounter them, and they, likewise, didn’t take long to notice you were there.

Malleus approached you first, a smile spreading across his face upon seeing you. “How delightful it is to see you, Child of Man. What brings you here today?” He asked, unsuspecting of the surprise you’ve prepared for all of them.

“Oh. Don’t tell me the rumors are true,” Lilia voiced, floating behind you to take a peek inside your bag. It seemed like him, unlike the rest of the dorm, was aware of your intentions.

“What rumors...?” You questioned, keeping him from grabbing one of the small boxes sitting at the bottom of the bag.

He blinked in surprise, followed by a giggle after realising that you had no idea what was being said behind your back. “I wouldn’t like to ruin the surprise. It’s something you may want to express yourself, am I right?”

“Master Lilia! What do you mean by that?” Sebek shouted, prompting you to shush him quickly so Grim wouldn’t wake up. “You dare to quiet me down, human—!”

“Sebek,” Silver intervened, noticing the sleeping being on your shoulders, and thus he pointed it for the green haired boy to see.

“I’m sorry for shushing you, Sebek. It’s just that Grim is asleep and I don’t want to wake him up,” you apologized, hoping that your crocodile friend would try to lower his voice at least a little.

“O-okay, human. But—!” He paused briefly, trying to not raise his voice. “I’m not doing it because of your orders.”

You sighed, thankful for his thoughtfulness, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Thank you, Sebek.”

Malleus coughed as he eyed his guardian’s red face, wanting to continue the original topic. “Say, Child of Man. You were about to tell us the meaning behind your visit.”

“Oh, that’s right,” you replied, cautiously taking the four remaining gifts to give them to the students. “I wanted to give you something as a Valentine’s Day present. So, I hope you like these details,” you stated, sighing after handing out the gifts, glad that this would be the last parade.

“My, my. I didn’t expect to receive a Valentine’s Day gift until a couple more of years,” Lilia muttered, seemingly happy to see his gift.

Silver stood silently for a few seconds, quickly realising that he had to thank you, softly expressing his gratitude over your recent action.

Sebek felt in the obligation to ask the purpose of this unexpected act, but since he wasn’t able didn’t want to express it his usual way, he recurred to mumble a small ‘thank you,’ taking you by surprise.

And the last and most dramatic reaction of all had to be given to Malleus. Just as we’ve seen before, he tends to... Overreact a little when it comes to small details like this one; so, in truly dragon-fae fashion, he kneeled before you, took your hand and prepared to say the words he’s been wanting to say for a long time now.

Lilia, however, had to step in, immediately clarifying how Valentine’s Day is also a day express your love for your friends. Less to say that if Malleus had his dragon ears, they would be flopped down like a puppy.

“Well. It seems that your wonderful visit has brought new moments to reminisce about,” the old fae said, trying his best to ease the situation. “We are very grateful for what you’ve gifted us today.”

“I’m happy to see that you’ve liked them,” you voiced, chuckling a bit after witnessing their reactions. “And, although I can’t really stay for much longer, I enjoyed this moment with you.”

You were about to head out after biding them goodbye, only to be stopped by Malleus, who was still a little gloomy for the news he just received. “Do you really have to go now, Child of Man?”

“Unfortunately, I do. It’s already late and Grim might get mad at me if he finds out that he’s not at Ramshackle when he wakes up,” you calmly explained, softly caressing his cheek as you walked away, promising him that you would have more time to spend together tomorrow.

You better keep that promise, MC. Malleus is already too dejected to suffer another deception.

Malleus’ gelato truffles match his new gargoyle keychain.

Malleus’ knows what Valentine’s is, but his knowledge about it is limited to the romantic part of it. Hence why he is about to pursue you, ready to propose, again, and take you to his castle so that you can live a long and happy life together; until Lilia explained him the other side of the holiday, disappointing the dragon fae. Well, excuse him, Lilia, but how was he supposed to know that humans also celebrate their friendship during Valentine’s. He’s frustrated, but also enchanted in a nutshell, he’s a mess right now. Yes, he’s still quite sad that this wasn’t a confession and that he may have to wait a bit of time before making a move on you, but nonetheless, you just expressed that you care and appreciate him, and that, at least for now, was enough for him.

Lilia’s green tea chocolates match his new bouquet of black and fuchsia roses.

Lilia has witnessed and experienced many Valentine’s days during his life. He probably has enough information to fill an entire encyclopedia about it, maybe including some of his stories as a bonus. Having lived for so long, Lilia finds enjoyment in how humans celebrate their holidays; and Valentine’s wasn’t the exception. He reminisces about his past lovers and confidants, basking in the subtle aroma of his recently acquired bouquet while thinking about all the memories he made along the way. This may sound like something an old man would say, but Lilia truly relishes in the fleeting moments that life graces him with; he most definitely takes delight in spending those moments with you, happy to see that you also enjoy his presence.

Silver’s cashew chocolates match his new deer plushie.

Silver’s pretty much indifferent towards Valentine’s. He doesn’t have time to celebrate these kinds of festivities when he has to make sure his young master isn’t in any danger. But he guesses that once a while won’t hurt... Malleus and Lilia are within his sight, Sebek is right next to him, and he doesn’t have the will to reject your gift. After all, who is he to decline such a selfless act? He gives you a warm smile as his cheeks turn into a slight shade of pink, uttering grateful words until he was too sleepy to continue the conversation. Just as he was slowly falling asleep, he unconsciously hugged his new stuffed plushie, unaware of the future teasing his father would carry out. Well, seeing the bright side of it though: he had an splendid nap and you had another sleeping beauty Silver picture. A win-win situation indeed.

Sebek’s lemon caramel chocolates match his new crocodile and dragon mug.

Sebek wasn’t and still isn’t fond of Valentine’s Day. In fact, he’s not fond of almost any of the holidays that you, mere humans, like to celebrate. However, even if he states that he doesn’t care about your gift and complaints about your display of affection towards his young master, Sebek ends up liking you a little bit more than usual. Don’t be mistaken, human! It’s not because of the cute action you just confer upon him, why would you even think that? He just thinks that a gift like this can be very useful, that’s all! He’s not smitten by your sweet smile, kind and thoughtful self, or the way your eyes shine when you’re happy... Wait, what was he saying? Oh, of course! He’s definitely not smitten by any of those things I just mentioned, so don’t you dare to think that after he gifts you your Valentine’s gift. What? It’s called being polite, you know?

Diasomnia might be the only dorm that doesn’t take down the gifts from the other students. Most likely because they were all a happy and beloved family... And also due to them thinking very highly of their presents. But is something that most people have done at this point, so the first part still stands.

“How come I didn’t know about this...”

“Oh, don’t worry, my prince! For the Prefect most certainly did this with love and effort for all of us!”

“It certainly seems that human put so much care into these...”

“What are you mumbling, Sebek?”

“N-nothing!”

“That’s right. If I gift Child of Man a present deserving of her, I can partake in this celebration with her.”

“What an enlivening idea! This makes the perfect occasion to try out that cookie recipe I got from Jade, kee hee~”

“Father, please don’t.”

INITIAL STOP: RAMSHACKLE

The wood of the door creaking was the only sound that could be heard upon returning to your dorm. Being accustomed to it, you didn’t think of it as you left Grim on the couch, sitting next to him while watching his peaceful face, far away in dreamland.

“Aww, isn’t he the cutest when he isn’t awake?” Brawley commented, appearing out of nowhere as he floated around the little creature.

“So, tell us, MC. How did you Valentine’s journey go?” Conrad asked, anticipating an answer that never came. “MC?”

When the ghosts turned to look at you, all they found was your sleeping form, who couldn’t resist the tiredness after a whole day of walking and searching.

“Poor thing. She must be so exhausted,” Arthur said, dragging a blanket to shield you from the cold weather. “I can’t believe she really took it upon herself to prepare all of those gifts.”

“Right? I haven’t seen anyone so determined to prepare so many boxes and chocolates without expecting something in return,” Brawley added, trying his best to sneak a pillow under your head.

“Well, she may not expect anything in return, but I’m almost completely sure those boys are going to return the favor,” Conrad voiced, placing Grim in a more comfortable spot close to you, careful to not wake him up.

After that, your ghost fellows decided to float around for a bit, talking amongst themselves to guess what the gifts your friends had for you might be, also questioning if they were also thinking of competing not only for your attention, but for your love as well.

THE END~

DON'T REPOST.

EVERY CHARACTER BELONGS TO DISNEY AND YANA TOBOSO, AND I DON'T TAKE CREDIT FOR THEM.

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theragethatisdesire · 7 months

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much ado about nothing chapter 8 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

um. hi. i am so nervous about posting this i could die, not because anything too significant happens, but it's been so long. this is not a super action-y chapter, but it's necessary, so bare with me. there's a good bit between the lines, so if anything's confusing, hit up my ask box or just hit me up to chat bc i love this story. we're getting close to the end, but i am .... sad about it. i love this eren. i love much ado. without further theatrics from me.... enjoy!!!!! <3

specific cws: swearing, mentions of drug use, alcohol, mentions of sex

want to catch up? series masterlist here<3

“Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by.” - The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

“It’s about time you got up! I got bagels from– oh, hey,” Historia falters when she catches sight of you and Eren, finally having made your first appearance for the day even though it’s well past 10:00.

“You again?” Ymir says with a snicker, walking past Historia with the aforementioned bagels swinging beside her legs with every step.

“Ymir!” Historia hisses, shooting you an apologetic look. Your face warms, knowing exactly what you look like right now: hair a mess, bruises covering your neck and chest, and the telltale sheen of guilt practically glowing in a halo around your head. Eren’s not much better off; there are angry red scratches down his entire back under his hoodie, and his eyes are hooded and heavy with that satisfied, I just got laid glimmer to them. He looks good like this, you think, sluggish and weighted down with the work he’d put in on your body all night and all morning. Cocky and satiated.

“Where are the bagels from?” You peek into the bag that Ymir dropped on the counter, shaking yourself out of your private admiration and sidestepping the obvious elephant in the room in favor of filling your grumbling stomach.

“That place on Melrose, but I only got three…” Historia looks sheepishly to Eren in apology.

“He’s on his way out,” you answer for him. Eren nods affirmatively, shuffling over to the doorway where his enormous sneakers are thrown alongside a small collection of yours and Historia’s shoes.

“Leaving so soon?” Ymir’s eyebrows raise in uncharacteristic interest, looking between you and Eren, who don’t seem able to truly meet each other’s eyes.

“Busy,” Eren grunts, slipping his shoes on, “I’ll see you–”

“Tuesday, right?” You say around a mouthful of bagel, still not quite meeting his gaze.

“Tuesday,” Eren looks to the sky like he’s mentally penciling you in to his schedule, nodding after a moment, “got it.”

“Merry Christmas!” You call out as he makes his exit, throwing a hand up in acknowledgement and farewell. A few heavy seconds of silence pass, the only sound in the room being the noisy smacking of the cream cheese bagel that you’re practically inhaling as Historia stares at you.

“That was…awkward,” Historia starts cautiously. You frown at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen two people that just fucked look less like they want to be in the same room,” Ymir says from the couch, punctuating her statement with a sharp laugh, “I mean, is it that awkward when you have sex?”

“It wasn’t awkward,” you cross your arms defensively, narrowing your eyes, “we’re just…casual.”

“Eren looked sort of tense,” Historia adds thoughtfully, a little line of worry appearing between her eyebrows.

“I’m sure his family’s been talking to him a bunch with the holidays coming up. Maybe that’s it, I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, not meeting Historia’s gaze. You can almost feel her smug, understanding nodding, seeing right through you.

“So you’re still not talking, then.”

“Of course we talk. You just watched us talk.”

“Not like you used to,” Historia counters, crossing her arms.

“So?” You scoff, letting your annoyance erupt in the form of tearing your bagel into little bite-sized pieces. Historia’s right, she’s right way too often for you to live with.

“You liked him. A lot. And he liked you. What happened?”

“You never told us,” Ymir echoes from the couch, “the last thing you told me at least was that you and Sasha went to Scout’s, Eren practically fought Floch, you slept with him for some reason after that, and the next thing we know, he’s here every morning.”

“Not every morning,” you mumble, rolling your eyes petulantly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Historia says impatiently, waving Ymir off, “it’s been weeks of…I don’t even know what to call it– this weird, awkward no-talking just-fucking thing. What happened?”

“We made up,” you shrug, staring at her blankly, “we’re fuck buddies. It’s not something that needs to be, like, picked apart and analyzed.”

“It absolutely does,” Historia argues, “you went from making goo-goo eyes at each other and staying up all night hogging the couch to what may the be the weirdest fuck-buddy relationship I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“It’s not weird,” you groan, throwing your hands over your eyes in exasperation.

“Is it Breeze?”

“What?” you hiss, pulling your hands from your face to narrow your eyes at Ymir, “what would this have to do with her?”

“I heard she’s staying for awhile, just moved into those snazzy new apartments across from the farmer’s market.” Ymir is either unaware of or unphased by your immediate aggression. She delivers her statement matter-of-factly, twirling one of her many rings idly. Her nonchalance makes you prickle, and Historia notices.

“Is it Breeze?” Historia asks, watching your reaction carefully. “Are she and Eren talking again? Or is he with you?”

“I don’t know what Eren does in his free time,” you roll your eyes, “much less if he’s got anything going on with Breeze right now. It’s not my business.”

“Granted, I don’t see how he could even find the time to deal with Breeze with how often he’s over here,” Ymir scoffs.

“Don’t you two have packing to do?” you ask in a desperate attempt to change the conversation topic. Luckily, Ymir takes the bait.

“We finally finished,” she shoots Historia a meaningful glance, “but our flight doesn’t leave for another four hours, so we don’t need to head to the airport until noon.”

Great. Your patience has already worn thin with the both of them for the day, and just as you’re formulating a plan to bid them goodbye and drag your exhausted body into a shower, Historia jumps ahead of you with yet another question that you don’t necessarily want to answer.

“Have you heard from your mom?”

“Bits and pieces,” you answer, twiddling the hem of your t-shirt between your fingers, “she and Tom are in Costa Rica right now.”

“No invite?” Ymir questions wryly, cocking an eyebrow. Historia shoots her a reprimanding glare, but Ymir��s callous humor is exactly what you need at the moment.

“Of course not,” you say with a chuckle, shrugging, “but she sent me some sweet pictures. They’re cute together.”

“I think Tom is my favorite of the recent boyfriends,” Historia concedes with a small smile.

“He’s definitely better than that asshole from Dubai, that’s for sure.” Ymir nods affirmatively, the unspoken voice of reason in relation to your mother’s dating life.

A few minutes of idle chit chat later, you’re able to excuse yourself to shower, ducking behind the curtain and into the steaming, nonjudgmental spray of water. Your theory these days is that turning the water up to an unbearable heat may scald the weight of everything on your mind off of your shoulders. It hasn’t worked yet, but you’ll keep trying.

Christmas isn’t your favorite season by any means, not since your parents’ divorce. It’s a solitary season for you, one for contemplation and baking. You don’t not enjoy spending Christmas’ alone; after so many years, you’ve started your own little traditions, and while you know the concept of someone spending Christmas alone is objectively sad, you’ve grown to prefer your own company over that of your mother and her boyfriend of the year. She’ll send you her American Express information along with a text to “Go crazy! Anything your little heart desires!” and you’ll spend Christmas Eve playing Santa for yourself, watching movies, and stuffing your face with whatever sugary treat you decide to throw together.

Okay, maybe it is a little sad, but it’s your tradition.

Ymir and Historia leave for the airport, and unsurprisingly, Historia begs you to catch a flight to come with them because “No one should be alone on Christmas!”. You only falter when Ymir begrudgingly extends an invitation, the first year in the three you’ve known them that she’s done so. Ymir shrugs and blushes when you and Historia stare at her in disbelief, claiming it’s because you seem like you have a lot on your mind. She’s not wrong, but you wave them off to Ymir’s parents’ anyway, assuring them you’ll Facetime on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, just to check in.

You don’t consider Historia’s offer until you’ve curled up under a blanket, the fifth or sixth mind-numbing, standard Christmas movie you’d selected not quite doing the trick of silencing your thoughts. You open your phone, pull up your recent texts; maybe reaching out to someone for some lazy, technology-driven conversation will do the trick.

First is Historia, per usual, sending you a barrage of selfies of her and Ymir’s family playing a board game. Even in your melancholy state, the sight of Ymir with her mouth stretched comically wide around a plastic game piece, scowling through her ridiculous expression, makes you snort to yourself.

Second is your mother, sending you an update about her and Tom’s dinner reservation getting canceled amidst short-staffing at the resort restaurant. You roll your eyes at that one; for your mother, the end of the world will surely present itself as a minor inconvenience at a five-star establishment.

Third is Sasha, checking in amidst the holiday season. She tells you that Hitch loved the little self-care package that she put together as a thoughtful, but casual Christmas gift. You text your congratulations back to her, feeling an unfair pang of envy hitting you.

Fourth is…oh, god, you shouldn’t have let yourself get this far. Eren. He’s still saved in your phone as “Eren 10 Shadows User Jaeger”; instead of making you giggle, his idiotic, self-placed contact name only makes a hollow thud ring through the confines of your empty chest. Feeling a bit like twisting the knife, you start scrolling through your texts, frowning at how short and unsubstantial each message is.

> Outside.

> tonight? 10ish?

> Be there in 10.

> i can venmo you for the doordash

> Don’t worry ab it.

The most painful part of all of it is, if you scroll just a bit further, back into the crisper autumn months, the messages aren’t so dry. In fact, in hindsight, Eren seems smitten with you. The messages still give you butterflies.

> Are you in your office was gonna pick up 104 otw to yours but I don’t want it to get cold.:)

> Is developing the six eyes the key to getting you to like me as much as you like Gojo?

> Just did a drop at the library and spied you w your kiddos across the room I didn’t say hey bc I didn’t want you to yell at me (bc youre rude) but you look HOT.

> Got your fav cookie dough to soften the blow for you when we start shibuya arc tonight be there in 10 nerd.

You groan and toss your phone to the other end of the couch, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. What are you doing? Why can’t you just talk to him, tell him that he’s all you think about, that every time he touches you, you swear that it burns an imprint into your skin?

Because it’s not real, your mind helpfully supplies. Breeze. Luke. Rumors. You’re clearly not over Luke if you drunkenly texted him that night at Paradis, right? Or maybe you’re projecting your old feelings for Luke onto Eren? Is that really something you’re prepared to gamble with?

And if you weren’t mess enough, Eren’s only been the commitment type for one woman in his life; out of the many that you know have rotated in and out, your statistical chance of becoming the second is slim. Not to mention the fact that the only woman he’s ever committed to has just moved in a whopping five minutes down the road from you, and is apparently interested in re-opening doors that you had assumed were closed.

With a huff, you grab your phone from where it's nestled into the cushions and check the time. 11:04pm. Still plenty of time to run down to the bodega and scrounge around for some cookie dough, maybe a cheap bottle of wine.

That’s motivation enough to shake you out of your wallowing state, and after you’ve pulled a pair of slouchy gray sweatpants over your pj shorts and thigh-high socks, you’re shoving your feet into some slippers and shuffling down the street, arms crossed over your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the biting wind. The shock of the cold numbs you to the bone, a welcome reprieve from the watery, shaky feeling that’s been brewing in your chest all night. You storm through it, noticing your breathing get a little looser with every step, feeling very much like you could stay out here all night, leave all of your problems cooped up in your lonely little apartment.

The bodega’s a certifiable ghost town, as expected. You only have your lucky stars to thank that the owners aren’t religious and are willing to stay open this late the night before Christmas Eve. You give a weak wave to the heavyset man behind the counter, a gesture that he doesn’t return. Figures.

Luckily, with most of the students on campus having left for home days ago, the shelves and refrigerators are still mostly-stocked with everything you’ll need. Item 1: cookie dough. A pack of the Pilsbury reindeer sugar cookies should do nicely; delicious and small enough that eating the entire package won’t depress you too much. Item 2: cheap wine. You round the corner a bit too quickly in your excitement, running headfirst into a tall stranger that you didn’t notice upon entering the store.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t–” your voice cuts itself off as the man in question’s irritation slowly slides off of his face. A tentative murmur of your name comes through wind-chapped lips, bloodshot eyes widening in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Eren’s brow crinkles almost comically, furrowing into a frustrated little divot between his reddened eyes as he tries to make sense of why you’re standing in front of him. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Technically not for another forty minutes,” you counter, checking your watch, “and I could ask you the same thing.”

“You know me, not exactly the family type.” Eren shrugs, a bit of the tension melting off of him. And he isn’t wrong; you do know. During the period of yours and Eren’s less-complicated friendship, he had divulged little bits and pieces of his home life, not enough to give you the full picture, but at least enough that you feel like an ass for not realizing why he was spending Christmas alone. Dead mother, asshole father, overbearing stepmom, try-hard brother. You can’t exactly blame him.

He looks heartbreakingly soft; wrapped in one of his classic massive hoodies, hair tucked beneath a cozy beanie, nose and cheeks kissed slightly pink from the cold winter winds. He’s clearly stoned, eyes heavy, muted, and slow-moving as he looks down at you. It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from cupping his face, breathing warmth back into him. Your fingers clutch a little tighter around the cookie dough in your hand, mimicking the swell of emotion that chokes your heart in your chest.

“Right, sorry.”

“That brings us back to square one. What are you doing here?”

The longing for closeness in your heart hasn’t quite outweighed the sadness and awkwardness of the situation, and you opt to deflect again. Unhealthy, but functional. “Buying wine.”

“And cookie dough?” Eren raises an eyebrow at your currently-occupied left hand. “Did you just get dumped by Santa?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No. It’s my Christmas tradition.”

When Eren’s gaze softens into something thoughtful, green eyes raking painfully over your bundled-up form, you realize you’ve let your guard down. Even that simple statement has bared something to him, given him yet another piece of you to hold– maybe to drop. It sends a nervous chill over you, and you drop your eyes to the floor amidst a pregnant moment of understanding silence.

“Here.”

You flit your gaze back up to Eren’s outstretched hand. He’s holding a bottle of Pinot Grigio– your favorite kind of cheap Pinot Grigio, at that. When you dare to look up at his face, you can’t read it, no surprise there, but if you had to guess? Something like warmth, something like the beginnings of a familiarity you hadn’t realized had been growing.

When you hesitate to take it, a little too long apparently, Eren pulls the bottle back up to his face, squinting at it, and moving it further and closer from his face. With a stuttered chuckle, you realize he’s trying to read the label.

“Is this not the one? I swear I saw it in your fridge–”

“No, that’s it.” You reach up and pull the bottle from him, momentarily shaken out of your stupor. “Where are your glasses? Were you planning on stumbling around the bodega asking the clerk to read all the labels for you?”

“I left ‘em at your house forever ago,” Eren admits, a bashful hand running over the back of his neck, “keep forgetting to grab them on my way out.”

“That’s right.” Your face grows warm at the mention of Eren– the same Eren who’s in front of you, adorably bundled up and cheeks pink with embarrassment– in your home. The things Eren’s been doing in your home as of late.

More like I’m not giving you enough time to grab them, you reflect with a grimace. Eren’s presence in your life has been hot and momentary over the last weeks since your run-in at Scout’s; you’ve made a habit of not keeping him around long enough for conversation, pleasantries, even so much as nabbing those readers out of your nightstand. Even after this short interaction, a vicious stroke of memory reminds you why you’ve kept your distance– Eren’s charming. He’s thoughtful, he’s kind, he’s funny, he’s so careful with you sometimes it makes your fingers shake. And now, with him beginning to turn away from you, giving you a sad and half-hearted goodbye and preparing himself to check out with whatever meager snacks he’s gathered, you don’t think you can keep observing your emotional vigil anymore.

The first flutters of snow have begun to coat the ground and there’s a cold, Christmas wind rattling at the shop windows and you’re holding the bottle of wine to your chest so hard you might be bruising your ribs when you decide to take a chance on him.

“Eren!”

He turns on his heel slowly, as if he’s about to raise his hands and call a truce. His eyes betray nothing but confusion, but if you squint, if you let yourself believe just a bit…you want to believe that he looks a little hopeful.

“Do you…do you want to come over?”

“Right now?” Eren cocks his head in disbelief. It crushes you a little how far out of the realm of possibility it’s become for you to just…want to spend time with him. The blow to your ego and his lack of immediate response nearly bring your newfound courage to its knees, but you push on.

“I can’t eat all of these by myself,” you lie, “and I have better food than that in my pantry.”

Eren eyes the two bags of chips he’s holding in one hand, looks back at you almost like he’s waiting for the punchline. You do your best to smile in a friendly, I-totally-won’t-cry-later-if-you-say-no type of way and snatch another bottle of wine off the shelf.

“I think they’re two-for-one anyway,” you say with an airy chuckle, “no one needs to be alone on Christmas.”

A shaky smile shatters Eren’s hesitant expression, and he cocks an eyebrow, raises his hooded eyes to the sky like he’s thinking it over. “Uh…yeah, I guess I have room in my schedule to keep you company.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” you scoff, the relief viscerally warming you from your growing smile to your fingertips, “and you’re buying after that one.”

“Some fucked up plan you got there,” Eren chuckles to himself, placing your wine and snacks on the counter, “tracking your fuck buddy down at the bodega and guilting him into buying you wine and snacks.”

“Eren,” you hiss, smacking him in retribution, masking the burn of his choice of words with embarrassment. It’s true, you’ve both wordlessly agreed upon it, but the reminder stings. You shoot an apologetic look to the clerk, but he’s entirely apathetic, reciting the total to Eren in a monotone voice. Your unnecessary chagrin only makes Eren giggle harder, earning him an eye roll from you.

The short walk back to your car is filled with some intentional tightrope walking between unnecessary etiquette (Eren insisting upon walking with you to your apartment, saying he’ll grab his car later; you pulling your Venmo app up, trying to assure him that making him pay was a joke) and the banter that you’d established between yourselves upon first meeting, the easy conversation you used to enjoy whenever you liked. Even as you both lull into that familiar rhythm of jokes, stomping through the light dusting of snow side-by-side, you can feel the precariousness of it all. Who’s going to be the first to decide that you’re too close? Who’s going to run away? Who’s going to wish they had run after them?

“Smells nice in here,” Eren remarks, bending down to tug at the laces of his heavy Docs once he’s made it past the threshold of your door.

“It’s about to smell even better.” Suddenly overcome with nervous jitters that Eren’s in your apartment with no part of his mouth on you, you scurry over to the oven to begin preheating it, urgently in need of something to do with your hands.

“Where’s ‘Stor?” Eren ambles along behind you, seemingly far more at ease than you judging by the way he slouches against the counter.

“Ymir’s parents have them come up that way every year.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s their thing.” You try to disguise the sudden tightness in your voice with a tinny note of disbelief, as if Eren should have inherently known that you elected this lonely Christmas celebration. “Hand me a baking sheet?”

“Where?”

“Down there.”

Your intonation must have carried the desired effect because Eren doesn’t press the matter further, following your instructions and producing a rectangular pan from one of the lower cabinets of your kitchen. You work wordlessly and in tandem with one another. Eren produces two wine glasses when he sees you scrounging around in the drawer for a corkscrew; he begins to scoop healthy dollops of cookie dough from the package with the spoon you hand him as you pour two not-so-healthy glasses of wine for you both. The silence is interrupted by Eren’s poorly-muffled snickers when he watches you take your first sip of wine.

“What?”

“Am I that bad?” Eren directs a playful, but meaningful, glance at your wine glass, a fourth of which you’ve just knocked back in one sip. You feel your cheeks warming, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Has nothing to do with you. Just…thirsty.”

"Is it awkward? Me being here?"

"I invited you," you say, not quite wanting to acknowledge that, yes, being around him fully-clothed is a little strange. It isn't an unwelcome strangeness, but you're not about to let that little confession fly either.

“We used to be friends,” Eren muses quietly, uncharacteristically outspoken. That makes your eyes widen; you almost wonder if he’s spoken without meaning to.

“We’re still friends,” you murmur against the rim of your glass, taking another large swig. Eren shrugs, very focused on portioning out the cookie dough. “We are.”

“I know.” Something about his voice shatters you, makes your fingers grip around your glass tight enough to break. You can almost see the self-provided rejection flitting across his face; it’s quick, but it’s cold enough to feel.

“Eren–”

“Friends.” Eren’s eyes flit over towards you in a gesture of laying arms down, and his lips tighten in a smile that threatens you to challenge the tentative peace he’s building between you both. The word stings when it hits you, bittersweet and ironic. Another fourth of your wine disappears in a single sip, and you smile back in a way that you hope looks more kind than it feels disparaged.

The cookies are baked, the necessary seating arrangements are settled upon, the glasses are refilled, and soon you’re snuggled up on the right side of your couch, feet stretched into Eren’s lap, practically dozing off to a Christmas romcom. Eren is, surprisingly, enthralled, intensely focused on the television and leaning forward in a way that’s bending your ankles uncomfortably but is too adorable to tell him to stop.

“So he’s not going to chase her?” Eren turns to you, devastated and frowning a bit. You snort into your second glass, finding his furrowed brow and flushed cheeks funnier than the mayhem that’s been building on the screen for the last hour.

“You have to watch!” You kick him meaningfully.

Eren receives your kick like a child, groaning dramatically and shooting you a look cold enough to kill. He throws himself back into the couch, absentmindedly taking one of your sock-covered feet in his massive hands and kneading his thumbs into the arch of your foot. He presses into a particularly tender spot, working a soft groan of appreciation from you; Eren’s lips tighten, and he subtly moves your heels a little further away from his crotch, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations. He rubs firm circles into the sides of your ankles, running a thumb up your leg to the back of your knee, beginning to extend his massage up your leg.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, and though he doesn’t turn to look at you, the corner of Eren’s mouth quirks up.

“Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut. You can hear the rustle of Eren’s hair against the couch as he nods, the movie now long faded away into your peripheral focus.

Just as you’re beginning to truly melt into yourself, scooching just the littlest bit towards Eren so he can start rubbing at your thighs, something glimmers into your consciousness. Eren’s your fuck buddy, he said it himself at the store. The gooey, soft emotion that’s welling in your chest, the thing that’s rendering you spineless and malleable that you don’t dare to name– it’s unseemly. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck and causing your eyes to fly open.

Something sickly and sour curls behind your ribs, darkening the contented little glow that had begun to grow there. You feel sick, you feel sixteen again, you feel like a lamb being fattened up for the slaughter. Eren’s not Prince Charming; he’s your fuck buddy, just like he said. You’d done a thorough job of establishing that dynamic, and you remember that as sweet as everything around you might taste, it’s artificial. He’s here for something.

Eren doesn’t notice the change in your demeanor, the stiffening in your muscles; not until you’re climbing into his lap, at least.

“What are you–”

You cut him off by slotting your lips against his, gripping into his shirt with such a fervor that the self-loathing behind it could be confused for mindless want. Eren hesitantly reciprocates, hands sliding down your waist and landing firmly at your hips, leaving a soft impression in the skin there. You rake your fingers through his hair, kissing him deeper and more frantically, bringing your hands down to tug at the hem of your sweatshirt–

“Hey.” Eren’s quiet voice against your lips freezes you where you are, fingers still twisted in the bottom of your shirt.

“What?”

“What’s all this?” Eren’s hand is against your cheek, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. It’s so gentle it nearly burns, scalds against the cold, callous arousal you’ve built up in yourself.

“I don’t understand.” Your voice is weak, all the fire you’ve contrived fizzling out as your words cross the barely-there gap between your mouth and Eren’s. Your hands fall into the space shared between your laps, fingers curling and uncurling to mask the tremble running through them. Your gaze stays fixed on them, monitoring for any visible signs of weakness, unable to glance up to meet Eren. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Eren murmurs, forehead pressed unwaveringly against yours, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It was nice,” Eren says, a little breathless and disbelieving, “it was nice before.”

“So don’t you want…this?”

“I mean, yes. I always want this,” Eren punctuates his statement with an airy chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, “but I don’t always need it.”

“I feel like I upset you.” You can’t stop the embarrassed frown from working its way onto your face amidst your confusion. This…this is what you and Eren do. Now that it’s been refused, you don’t know where to put your wandering hands, where to tuck the rush of needing to touch him.

“I’m not upset,” Eren says, still barely audible as he thumbs at your chin, “you made my shitty day a lot less shitty, actually.”

“Why was it shitty?”

“My dad.” Something dark and coarse has infused his voice now, rasping against the warm air between you. Despite the rough tone of his voice, Eren’s moving a hand up and down your back soothingly, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. It works– your body goes slack in his hold, slumping against his chest and nuzzling your nose into his shoulder. “Won’t bore you with the details.”

“Tell me.”

“You don’t want to–”

“I do.” You pull back from where he’s pinned you, bringing your forehead back to rest against his. “Even if I’m just your fuck buddy. You can talk to me.”

Eren sighs, heavy and resigned. Even with your vision blurred by how close you are to him, you can see a wry smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “You’re not my fuck buddy.”

“I know. Friends, right?” You hardly dare to breathe against him, heart thudding viciously in your throat to the point that you worry Eren might hear. It’s not a word that encompasses what you feel for him, the mess you’ve both created between yourselves, but it’s your scapegoat, your fallback. No matter how many times you catch his lingering glance as he leaves you in the morning, no matter how often you delve into a bottle of wine and hover your thumb over his contact, no matter how closely he haunts your every thought. Friends.

The hint of a smile disappears from his face. Eren shakes his head against yours, fingers ghosting along your thigh, up your arm until he lands his hand over yours, curls them together in a loose fist against his chest.

“No.” You aren’t sure that you’ve heard him correctly, how quietly he speaks.

“No?”

“No,” Eren confirms, tightening his grip around your hand, “we’re not friends.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the same time Eren’s eyes flit up to meet yours, doubling down on the little confession he’s breathed into you. You’re powerless to do anything under the weight of your fear, your relief, your confusion. It’s enough for now, the understanding that no, you’re not friends and maybe you’ve never been, hanging between you and making the air a little more palatable.

“Not friends.” A little nod from you draws a shaky exhale from Eren, an answering nod of his own, and it feels like you both have mutually agreed to set whatever’s been building, whatever’s too-hot-to-touch, to the side for the time being. It’s enough.

He holds you, and you let him, despite the growing ache in your hips, the restlessness of your feet as they fall asleep. Eren tells you about his father, the career path he’s still afraid to go down. You tell him about your mother, how the emotional distance between you always manages to somehow be greater than the geographical, how love is her number one priority except when it comes from you. Both of you listen in reverence as you map out your scars for each other, delving into what’s healed and skating carefully over the parts that are still tender.

The couple on-screen reunites with a zoom shot and a dramatic kiss in the Christmas snow. The soaring orchestral number that accompanies their reunification is one that’s just loud enough to cover the sound of you and Eren’s hearts beating in tandem, and the clatter of his phone vibrating repeatedly on the kitchen counter.

#much ado about nothing #much ado #much ado uni #much ado universe #much ado verse #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger fanfic #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 11 months

Text

Still beating

What - dealing with grief as the dust finally starts to settle. Dealing with grief regarding one specific character's death in particular. You know the one.

Genre - heavier, but we get devoted husband/father Daryl out of the mix. And we don't end the chapter on a bummer, never fear. This ain't a French movie, slowpokes

Relationships - wife Reader and husband Daryl as well as your baby. Familial affection with Rick, and that balance between friend and clergy for Father Gabriel.

Perspective - 3rd POV Daryl, and 2nd POV You

Pronouns - she/her

When - time jump! we've briefly hopped to post season 8, pre season 9 (but before The best kind of damn weird). This chapter takes place during the earlier phases of recovery and rebuilding after the war. The previous chapter, Scary as a sleepy kitten, took place during season 2.

TWs - grief, PTSD (including after SA), depression, self-loathing, and some cussing. This chapter is also kinda lengthy, friends, and had to have exposition. (Might should've sliced the chapter in half, but then we'd have another two-parter on our hands :P)

But how long though? - ...20 minutes or so?

Story references and Masterlist link? - under the cut

And is there a pic at the end as a prize for finishing? - yes :D

Have fun and happy reading!

References to other chapters - what we learned in The Interview. There is also grieving/anger as seen in The first Christmas 'without' Part 2 and its conclusion in I don't hate you, a happy reference to Happy 8th of July!, reference to those lovely tugging strings as found in Invisible Tugging Strings, Part 1 and Part 2 (Part 2 I reckon is still glitched and showing as labeled mature, the poor thing's been cleared about 7ish times via help ticket XD ).

There are a lot more details you might recognize, pop on by to the Official Masterlist here, or for those who prefer linear over non-linear, the Chronological Slowpoke Masterlist here

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

Still beating

She was doing real bad. The past few days had been especially bad. Grief has nasty ways of settling in and rearing its ugly head.

He didn’t know too much about what to do to help her, he’d never been good at that stuff. And there was no fixing all that happened, especially not when the last thing that happened was the worst thing that could’ve.

Other than if TJ or Judith died, it was the worst thing. And part of his wife died right alongside Carl.

Hell, she’d been the one to wait after Carl died, then turned, to pull the trigger.

Now, she felt dead, too.

Gabe had to suggest that she check her pulse when it got bad enough.

Just then, TJ started to wriggle and hum in an attempt to root at Daryl's bicep, which pulled him out of his worry for a second.

Gently, he began to bounce to try and keep his baby lulled. He knows Y/N wanted to breastfeed only to get her production up (and so TJ’s suckle could get stronger after the surgery), but Y/N was finally asleep.

Beginning with when Denise was killed, Y/N hadn’t been making as much as she first had. Then, the Saviors stopped the RV and surrounded them, and Negan did what he did. Then Daryl himself got taken away, then there was all the fighting.

And then Carl died.

Getting her milk to come back had been proving damned hard.

A handful of not-very-good times, they’d supplemented what milk she did make with watered-down formula and/or watered-down goat's milk.

One very bad time, they’d used sugar water to fill the babies’ bellies until Jesus got back with goat's milk. Just the one time they had to use sugar water, everybody made damn sure of that.

For now, Daryl could crack into what was still left of the goat's milk in the cooler, right? The two women in the Kingdom who had little guys had sent over actual breast milk with Carol a few days ago, but it was used up yesterday. That stuff had been a God-send, he couldn’t thank the ladies enough.

Between the two babies in Alexandria, TJ and Gracie, everyone had to be smart about using what formula was left. And given that the power got cut, keeping the goat's milk fresh was another problem, hence the cooler.

There was still a shit ton of clean-up had since the Saviors nabbed Alexandria’s storage, then firebombed the town. To make things worse, those assholes had their own compound destroyed, and Hilltop and the Kingdom got screwed, too. Even the beach women took another beating. Hell, and them junkyard people were literally all fucking gone except their leader chick.

So, Y/N breastfed the two babies as much she was physically able because there was no other option right now, all while working as the only other doc left standing in all five communities; she was running herself into the ground.

And with Carl gone…

It ain’t fair that she couldn’t make enough — it was Negan’s goddamned fault.

Which leads to what just went on: so Mich had told him, Y/N’d lashed out at Negan and the new doctor kid with the facial hair, what was his name, Sidney?

Daryl hadn’t been at the infirmary when it happened, but, according to Mich, she’d had to pull her out of the room. Once out, Y/N asked her about TJ, Judith, and Gracie to make sure they were safe, then disappeared after Mich had turned around. Straight up and bolted.

Daryl had checked the escape-closet first, but she wasn’t in there or the attic it connected to, wasn't on the roof that lead to.

He’d then checked the burned church. She’d been there, he recognized her boot prints, but she'd moved on. From there, he was able to follow her sooty tracks in the direction of the place he should’ve known to check first.

Sure enough, Y/N'd been at Carl’s grave.

His wife could barely look at him when he approached. He'd simply kissed her on the head and quietly walked her back home. Once home, he'd cleaned and bandaged her hand while she, again, tried to pump enough for TJ and Gracie.

Mich had told Daryl she’d get Rick for her, so he’d be here soon.

Daryl wracked his brain, he even prayed to learn what do to try to help carry Y/N through this shit.

At first, Y/N’d been pacing around the room, crying but trying not to, arms wrapped around her picture frame with a photo of Carl in it as if it was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He'd been able to persuade her to lay down, and ended up laying in bed with her and holding her tight, TJ next to them in little bassinet.

Initially, him holding her and pressing kisses to her neck had made her feel worse. More guilty, that is. A handful of days ago, something got into her head that she needed to give him a damn "annulment."

Nah, for real, she’d even said (to Gabe) that the two of them not having ever done the deed yet was "grounds" to give him one. “Grounds to free him,” were her exact words. It was a whole thing, and the couple of failed attempts at trying to do the deed after getting hitched some months back probably made her feel worse.

Father Gabriel had Daryl's back the whole time during the conversation, though, decent dude.

And no, Daryl wasn’t angry or even real hurt that she’d thought she had to ‘free him’ and shit, he knows it was the grief and physical exhaustion that got her to that point. His woman had full-on blacked out and hurt herself that day, which is why he'd brought her to Gabe in the first place.

But the, um, the walls were thinner than Daryl had expected, which is how he overheard from the person that he was gonna love and stay with and stay faithful to until he dropped dead softly confess that she was “selfish” to keep him “stuck” with a “batshit m-mess” like her and “a baby that ain’t his.”

The fact that Y/N kept maintaining how much she loved him and how she didn’t want no annulment helped it hurt less when she’d sounded just about convinced that it was “loyalty to me ’cause we’re close, loyalty to Rick,” and because of “he’s got so much shame. He feels responsible for what the Claimers did,” that made him marry her those months ago. "He loves our ch—my child, and might love me, but it's not fair to him. He deserves better, h-he needs better, the man's been trapped all his life. I-I don't want him trapped, I want him happy!"

Gabe never played into her fears. He been no nonsense about all of it, told Y/N that she needed a damn rest, and asked her to tell him what she thought about it when she woke up.

The good thing was that after a 5 hour period of uninterrupted sleep (during which they used some of the goat's milk for TJ and Gracie), she woke up in a daze at why she’d thought an annulment was something Daryl needed or wanted.

The bad thing was, she was then socked in the gut with more unearned guilt for it, then with worry that she was too far gone, or crazy, all that.

Been a bad, bad few days.

Been a lot of Daryl showing her love that she felt not worth being shown. So that she fell asleep in his arms today was such a damn win!

After getting up to take a leak and finding that Y/N was miraculously still asleep, he thanked whoever was up there, then tried to figure out what else he could do to help her get through today…and right at that moment, TJ started to rouse, so he got his answer: keep their baby comforted. More shut-eye could only do his woman well.

Deftly lifting the little bundle into his arms, he'd kissed the scar above the baby’s upper lip and tiptoed out to the hall, where he was now.

Lightly he bounced, softly he shushed. He held TJ like a football and moved back and forth, back and forth. Babies smell so damn good, and make the cutest damn noises!

After a couple minutes, through the open door, he peeked at his Y/N.

Shit. She was already sitting up and blinking off the sleep.

Whatever it was she did and said today, she felt low as hell about it, that much was clear. Without looking, she grabbed the now-broken picture frame and clutched it to her middle.

"You're supposed to be asleep, slowpoke," he tried to tease.

Her clothes had ashes from where it looked like she’d knelt down then sat down in the burned church. There was some dirt on them, too, from when she’d been at Carl’s grave. Daryl made a note to shake the sheets out later and pick the tissues up off the floor.

That's when the front door opened downstairs.

Was that Ri—good, that was Rick’s voice, he was finally there. There was a second voice, too, was that Father Gabriel’s? It was soft like Gabe's voice was.

Daryl looked downstairs.

Yup, it was Rick with the rev.

He waved them upstairs, but it must’ve been the clunking of the Gabriel’s new cane that got Y/N stumbling out of the room.

“Rev! I would’ve come to you, y-you need to be takin’ it easy.” She hugged the picture frame in one hand, gripped the banister in the other and started to go downstairs, asking Gabe how he felt, urging him to sit down, had his vision worsened, all that stuff.

“Y/N, more rest won’t stop me from losing sight in this eye,” Gabriel responded in his quiet way, remaining on the second step, not going up or down the stairs. He smiled. “You could say I’m the one making a house call to a patient this time."

She held back a sob and bowed her head. Then, she subtly slipped two fingers around the inside of her wrist…

Rick stepped the rest of the way up the stairs and put his hands on her shoulders. “What's going on, weirdo?”

“Ricky, I'm s-sorry."

He leaned closer and took her in for a hug. “Heart still beating?” he murmured.

Her inhale was shaky. “Mmhm. Yours?”

“Beating strong.”

TJ perked up and began to whimper upon hearing her voice. Y/N unzipped her hoodie to—she still had a gun on her?

Okay, that'd been stealth as fuck, it hadn't even been printing. He'd been literally holding her, how had he not noticed?

Daryl shared a glance with Gabe. Minus her screwdriver, she'd turned in her weapons after what happened the other day.

Y/N handed the small gun to Rick, who looked wary, but accepted it without question. She hesitated before reaching into her boot to hand over her screwdriver, too.

Daryl slid his hand around his wife’s waist to guide her back to the room. Without looking him in the eyes, she cupped his cheek and told him he was a good father. Then, frame still gripped under one arm, she took the baby into the other.

“Let’s try havin’ a snack before I go with Uncle Ricky awhile, okay, chickpea?” she murmured, then unbuttoned the top of her shirt.

Daryl took off his vest to give her some more coverage. When he draped the vest around her, she turned her head to kiss his hand. He felt his cheeks warm when she did that.

Walking into the room again, she softly told Daryl that he and Rick could sit on the beds. First, she placed the picture frame on one of the mattresses. Next, she took TJ and went beside the end table at the window to sit down on the floor beside it. The way she sat, it was kinda as if she were using it as a shield.

“Rev, please take the chair,” she mumbled to Gabriel with a glance at the only piece of furniture in the room at the time, other than the bassinet, a nightstand, and the end table. Negan had specifically left the rocking chair as a 'gift' for her. The piece of shit...

Anyway, Daryl had got them their two twin mattresses back (hey, squish them together and you get a big-ass bed) the first trip to and from the Savior’s compound after the war ended, once the Alexandrians had begun to move back from the Hilltop. Only, no bed frames yet.

“And sweetheart, I’ll-I’ll take the pumps with me for while I’m in there. Wanna make sure you and Aaron have enough for them,” she said to him, voice still raw. Y/N turned to him and gave him a wobbly smile. “Sorry I used up so much of the tissue supply,” she tried making light, but got close to tears again, so stumbled through asking “Can I, um, Rick, m-might can I bring my pillow? Is that okay?”

Go with Rick where, and take the breast pumps and her pillow, why? He made eye contact with Gabriel, who looked just as puzzled. So, he turned to Rick.

Rick lowered his eyebrows as if he didn’t know what she meant, either. He squatted to sit down on the mattress beside Daryl, and looked at his sister. “Y/N, where are we headed?”

Glancing up from the baby to him then to Daryl, she adjusted TJ’s position on her breast while she figured out how to answer, by the looks of it. Another glance at her husband as if she were worried about his reaction...

“Rick, I thought you was here to…escort me?”

Daryl had no clear idea what she meant, it was the rev who understood first.

“No,” Father Gabriel told her gently. “Y/N, you aren’t under arrest.”

Under arrest? Daryl fought between the urge to get angry or dead-ass laugh. 'Under arrest??'

It was for real, though. His wife’s tears started flowing again as she turned her attention to Rick and began to stress, “There can’t be no special treatment—”

“—Is this why you handed me your weapons? Why would you be under arrest?” Rick cut her off to question.

She stared as if he’d grown antlers. “I s-struck a patient, and, and—”

“—And I slit his throat open, which is why that 'patient' is in there in the first place,” he cut her off again, firm.

Thankfully, TJ let out a wail the same time mama wailed, “Ricky, y-you weren’t his medic!” pausing any further arguing.

Y/N gulped, pressed down on one breast, then the other. “I know there’s not much in ’em, Teddy-bear, but it-it’ll get better. It’ll come back,” she shushed, lifting him up and tucking herself back in. With a few kisses, she shushed, “You’ve gotten so much faster at drinking, babycakes”

Daryl got on the floor with her and took TJ back.

She avoided eye-contact again, and her lip wobbled again as she pulled the top of her shirt higher. That told him there’d been not much milk in there. And he could see all over her face that it was switching her on the legs with more false-ass, unearned guilt.

The familiar string in his chest suddenly tugged in her direction—next thing, he was resting his forehead on hers. “Hey. You’re makin’ more every day, angel,” he whispered in her ear. "And you're a damn good ma."

The way her expression softened and her body relaxed toward his felt better than fireworks going off on the Fourth 8th of July.

And as if he were back in that Georgia-in-July heat, Daryl just about melted right there on the floor when he saw his TJ, neck lifted high, making a face-scrunching, gummy smile at him. "Look how strong your neck is getting, ’lil badass, you’re rockin’ it!”

Shit, their kid was the best damn thing.

Y/N leaned against him and reached to lightly fluff their baby’s hair and rub their baby's teeny feet.

Gabriel sat in the rocking chair quietly, hands resting on his cane. He caught eyes with Daryl and nodded his head toward Y/N, glad to see her no longer convinced she needed to ‘free’ her husband.

Absorbed in the photo, Rick exhaled, then spoke up. “Y/N, how about we start from the beginning? What happened at the infirmary?”

She pressed tighter against Daryl as a pained noise left her throat. “Did you talk to Siddiq yet?” sounded very small.

“I want to talk to both of you.”

“And Michonne?”

He nodded. “She told me some.”

The big watch she’d kept from Dale tick-tick-ticked on her wrist. Then came the sound of light metallic clinking. Daryl didn’t have to look to see that she must’ve pulled out her brother’s necklace and was tugging on it.

“What I did ain’t excusable,” came out raspy and thick.

“It is," Rick answered.

“It’s not, especially not what I said to Sid—” a sob choked her response. She used Daryl's leather vest to hide her face before hugging it around herself like a blanket.

“Walk me through what happened first, kiddo, before you hit Negan with this?” Rick subtly gestured to the broken picture frame.

So she had smacked Negan in the face? Hot damn, Daryl was more in love with her already.

Y/N swallowed and shook her head. “They’d been lookin’ at it, the both of 'em.”

“At the picture?”

A tiny nod. “I’d left the room, and when I got back, they was looking at it. Siddiq brought it over to him. Tried to make like Negan was sad, too. Fuck that!”

TJ started rooting on his bicep again, but Daryl was on it. “Sorry, pipsqueak, I don’t got the right parts for that.” He started to massage the baby’s belly, and TJ quieted.

“It’s okay to let ’em cry a little, it-it helps restock these,” his wife tried joking, nodding down at her chest.

“Y/N.” Rick was delicate about coaxing her for more details. “You got back into the room, Siddiq and Negan were looking at the picture.”

“Negan’s filthy hands were on it,” she grit. "Lookin' at Carl and me, you with Shaney." The sounds of the pendant being pulled across the chain filled the room along with TJ’s soft cooing.

“Is that when you hit him with the frame?” Rick asked.

“No. I told him not to look at it again or touch it, and if he did, I’d hurt him.”

“Angel, slow your breathin’,” Daryl interjected at the same time that he figured out why those words sounded familiar: it was similar to how she'd warned the last Claimer fuckhead, the one who’d had Carl pinned down and was gon——Daryl shut down this brain for a sec, it was best not to think about that night.

He turned his head to see Rick, red-eyed, tracing his thumb along the photo of Carl, Y/N, Shane and him. Seems as if Rick had recognized her words, too.

“And when was it that you did hurt him?” Rick pressed on.

Y/N swallowed. “About half a minute later when he tried to act like it wasn’t his fault.”

Rick’s composure staggered and collapsed. His voice was hoarse when he managed to say, “It’s not his fault.”

But Y/N was fast to shut it down. “Don’t for one more second make like it’s yours, Ricky, you get that monkey off your back,” she comforted and somehow scolded both at once. “Negan was doing what Negan does when he, when he told you that. It was manipulation, nothin’ real. How C-Carl—” another choked-down sob, more tears.

Daryl noticed her press her fingertips to the spot under her chin, beside her jaw, checking her pulse to prove it was still beating.

“Negan had nothing to do with how Carl got bit,” Rick whispered. “You know it’s true, kiddo.”

“No—our boy wouldna ended up out there, w-with-with Siddiq, if it hadn’t been for Negan.” Her tone got louder and angry, her stress stutter became more noticeable, the way she tugged the necklace turned rougher. “He and his followers was why we weren’t able to trust no n-newcomers like Sid, which is why Sid was still out there alone, and, and, and why Carl went to him! It, it was because of Negan and his, and his, his-his cult!”

TJ seemed freaked out by the louder voice, the baby’s dark, blue-black eyes grown big.

Daryl spoke Y/N’s name to try and bring her back to herself, but she seemed to have very suddenly calmed.

She was blinking at her hand.

Daryl looked, and then saw the two halves of her brother Shane’s chain, broken.

“How many times did Carol warn me that this would happen when I tugged it,” she muttered to herself. "Good thing I didn't decide to tug on the rosary, huh?"

Inhaling, she leaned her head against the wall behind her, staring into space, fingers to her wrist to check her pulse again.

From beside her, he covered her hand in his. Then, pressing his lips to her fist, Daryl took the necklace from it. He could fix it.

“I lost my temper again, I’m sorry,” she spoke to all in the room, her hand cupping Daryl's cheek a moment. Then, more quietly, she looked at Rick. “How many days’ll I be in there?”

Which sent Daryl straight back to disbelief he was hearing those words, what absolute bullshit. “Y/N, you ain’t going nowhere.”

“You’re not going to a cell, Y/N,” Rick echoed.

“No special treatment,” she softly repeated. “If I were anybody else—”

Rick interrupted her “—It’s not about who you are.”

Father Gabriel had gotten up and was making his way to Y/N by then.

Y/N shook her head at the conversation, tired. “If I were anybody else or had any other orle, and if he were anybody else,” she caught her breath, “there’d be reper-re-rep—” a few more tries, and she had to choose a different word, “consequences. Assault and battery on an un-unarmed person—a patient—from their medical provider, that’s serious.” Her hand was back to covering her face. She sat pressed against the wall, knees at her chest.

“You and Siddiq are the only doctors left. We couldn’t just put you in a cell even if you had earned it.”

“I ain't a doctor, at best, I’m a medic,” she grunted. “And I did earn it, just ask him and Michonne. As for my,” she made a shaky inhale, “my duties, I can be escorted out.”

“And TJ? Gracie?” Daryl put out there, hoping to guilt her out of insisting she get jail time, like, what the fuck. What kind of conversation was this?

Screw this, he couldn't even sit. He stood, shaking his head and pacing around the room, still holding TJ.

The expression on Y/N's face should’ve been enough to calm him down, along the defeated, quiet way she reasoned, “I’ll pump and y’all will visit. It’s—no, sweetheart—it’s only for a few days,” when he started to dead-ass leave. As if her being in there ‘only for a few days’ would help this bullshit make sense.

But that’s when he ended up snapping, “This is goddamn bullshit! You bopped a sick fuck on the nose with a picture frame, who the fuck will care? Rick, why you even entertainin' this shit?” and he regretted doing so as soon as he barked it out.

The old, invisible knee rammed him in the nards harder when Rick cautioned, "Brother," and Gabe finally opened his mouth, and louder than Daryl had ever heard him speak. “She cares, Daryl. So do I.”

And to make it all worse, their baby had given a start in fear when he’d shouted, and now the poor kid was screaming—and TJ doesn’t scream, shit, shit, he blew up while holding his child?

“M’sorry! M’sorry," he hushed to his baby, "I love you so much, kid, I’m so sorry I scared ya. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” With a kiss on TJ’s wild head of hair, he murmured, “Pipsqueak, your old man is an idiot.”

Y/N rushed over when TJ screamed, but she didn’t take the baby away from Daryl. Instead, she caressed her husband’s forearm and the tricep and spoke to their child. “Your daddy’s got you safe,” she soothed.

He knew she was trying to look him in the eyes, but he couldn’t return it. He’d just scared an infant because he couldn’t check his temper. Their infant.

His wife’s quiet assurance cut through the rushing in his head. “Daryl? TJ ain’t hurt, sugar, and you’re not a bad father. Do some skin to skin, okay?” She pecked a kiss on his cheek. “And that's a dollar for cussing, pay up later.”

She then sat back down on the floor next to where the rev had made his new seat. Daryl took the now-empty rocking chair, unbuttoned his and TJ’s shirts, then nestled the kid on his chest.

Y/N then told the room the rest of what happened, how after Negan croaked out with what voice he had left, saying it 'wasn’t his fault Carl was dead', that she’d turned around and whacked him across the face with the frame.

Siddiq had reacted by grabbing her shoulders from behind to pull her away from Negan — so she had shoved back and kneed him in the dick plus rammed her head against his, dropping the frame in the process. The frame broke as a result—and when it broke, she'd lost her cool, said some shit, and threw some shit. Mich heard the hubbub and intervened, then Y/N hid herself away cause she 'knew' she was 'gone crazy.'

As far as Daryl was concerned, the new doc was lucky all he got was a shove, a knee to jewels, a clunk on the head, and some words and maybe a clipboard thrown at him, because Y/N could fight damned well. She'd had it drilled into her how and when to do it. Freely taught others moves, too.

When she’d showed Carol some techniques, way back, it was one of the things that sent him falling for her.

And…Y/N might’ve not said it out loud, but when she described how Siddiq grabbed her from behind to pull her away, everyone in that room got why it caused her to react strong.

What she described herself as doing would’ve been instinct.

Siddiq wouldn’t know why. Negan might, the fucker had watched the tape of her Deanna interview.

“See?” Y/N blew her nose again, sniffed, and stared at the floorboards. “It’s not right to Sid or the community to, to have what I did go unchecked. And what I said to Siddiq was so cruel. What’s worse is I meant it. Fuck, I still do.”

What she'd said was basically that she wished he’d gotten bit instead of Carl, and that it was just as much Siddiq's fault that the boy was dead as it was Negan’s. That 'he should be dead.'

She grimaced, then caressed the watch on her wrist. Must’ve been thinking of Dale. “Ain’t fair to…Negan, neither. If there’s anything Carl taught us, it’s that,” she whispered.

Rick lifted the frame to kiss his son’s picture, wiped a couple tears away. “When I talked with Sid, he was…alarmed. Worried. He thought it was off-character.”

Y/N went rigid where she sat. “Siddiq wasn’t there two years ago.”

Daryl lifted the baby higher on his chest and snuggled closer.

Rick shook his head. “You wishing someone dead, or, dead instead of another, is very off-character, it’s not you. No—don’t shake your head, Y/N.” Her brother maintained, “Even back then, after what happened, you didn’t wish me dead. You wished that Shane was still alive, not that I was dead instead. Even if you did say those things, it wouldn't have been the truth, just the hurt speaking.”

“I attacked you and told you I would kill you. And I-I meant it at the time, you know that.”

“And for a couple days, you left, because you didn’t actually want that. You knew it was wrong.”

“Which is why I need to get put away for a couple days. I decided to hurt a patient and his doctor, my own fr—” She wasn’t able to say what was probably the word ‘friend.’ Y/N bit her lip, and continued, “Then hurled words at him what nobody should get hurled at them.” She swallowed a cuss and grabbed another tissue.

“You’re exhausted, Siddiq knows that.” Rick pointed out. “We’re not ourselves when we’re—”

Y/N wasn’t having it. Probably too exhausted, to tell the truth.

“We’re all exhausted. C’mon, man, you just lost your son!” A sob left her and she tried to breathe through her nose. Checked her pulse again.

“You were also reacting to how he yanked you back, kiddo. That's not nothing.”

Daryl gave Rick a warning glance.

Rick saw, nodded, and held up a hand, which made Y/N turn to see what Daryl was doing. But Daryl simply kissed TJ on the head, not saying nothing.

She wasn’t fooled. When Y/N looked back at Rick after giving her husband a look of it’s okay, Daryl gave Rick another warning glare, then a nod.

“You didn’t react like that without reason, Y/N. There’s no shame to admit it was a trigger.”

She grumbled at the word. “Trauma ain’t an excuse to traumatize others.” After exhaling, she ran her hands over her face and took a moment. Hardly louder than a whisper, she challenged, “Ricky, not all my problems stem from the rapes. I’ve always been too hot-headed.”

At that moment, Daryl wanted to scoop her and TJ up and drive them away from everything, keep the two of them safe and unbothered for a month or two or four.

“Getting grabbed like that m-might, y’know, might could’ve reminded me of it—when they—" She ran a hand through her hair. "Okay, it did get me going. But, I,” she paused. “It wasn’t that I saw red or blacked out, I chose to keep goin’ once I’d started. I threw stuff because I was raging, I didn't want to stop because I thought he deserved it.”

Y/N fiddled with Dale’s watch, and turned to Father Gabriel beside her and almost smiled at him, close to the way she used to smile at Glenn, as if he were in on a joke. “Here I’d hoped I was re-domesticated by now.”

“Let us give thanks that you’re still housebroken,” he responded, taking Daryl by surprise. "You're...still housebroken, are you not?"

The way Y/N then cracked up and grinned woke up the butterflies in his stomach.

“Y/N, you’ve come miles since I first met you,” Gabriel told her softly, smiling back.

“All the way from Georgia,” she joked back, then grew more serious. “You’ve grown a whole lot, too.” She wiped her eyes, and Gabe closed his.

“And Y/N,” he shook his head. “You aren’t losing your humanity. I know you’re frightened of that, after what you told me happened to your other brother.”

It hadn’t even registered in Daryl’s mind that Shane’s memory would be scaring her. She loved her brother like hell, but she was always terrified of going down the same path he did.

He looked to Rick to see what his reaction was. His reaction was tear-rimmed eyes and a nod of his head toward TJ, silently asking if he could hold the baby awhile. Daryl nodded, Rick stood, and returned Y/N the frame as he walked by to pick up the little one.

Hands empty, Daryl took out his army knife and the broken chain from his pocket so he could fix his woman’s necklace. Wasn’t gonna be hard.

He heard Y/N whisper, “Hey, punk. Miss you. Miss you, too, loser.” He let his eyes travel to where she sat under the window, and watched her kiss the picture and well up. It was the old one of her and preschool-age Carl photobombing Rick and Shane, after one of them got some kind of cop award.

Clutching it once more to her belly, she and Father Gabriel then started to talk in low voices with one another.

“The red haze in your right sclera is so close to begin' clear. Did you talk to Rosie today? She’s been seeming less depressed.”

“I thought this was me visiting my patient, not the other way around,” Gabe gently hinted. “Y/N, please talk to me.”

Daryl heard her sniffle. “Rev, but I don’t want to have meant those words. I’ve been workin’ on it. It-it might be his fault, but I know he’s innocent, he’s humane—Sid even counts walkers like I do, man, yet still, I—” her breathing shuddered. “After whatever this mess is kicked in, every time I see him now, I hate him. Why do I hate a decent person?”

“Grief,” he offered simply. He gave her another shrug and small smile. “Keep doing what you have been. It will get easier every day, the same way your, um,” he was careful about his wording regarding her tits, “that you have more for the little ones every day.”

She huffed but didn’t raise her voice again, she stayed quiet as could be. “It don’t feel like none of that’s happening.”

“Our perception of things doesn’t always equal the truth, Y/N.” Gabe seemed to take a moment. Maybe he was praying.

Y/N’s fingers found her pulse again.

“We are all healing,” Gabriel next said, and smiled again. “Your heart is still beating, is it not?”

Y/N stared for a few moments, caught in the act. Eyes meeting Daryl’s for a moments, she removed her fingers from her neck, and inclined her head at the reverend. “What about yours?” she asked softly.

“Still beating. And that’s the proof,” he assured her just as softly. “Y/N, as for the way you understand your actions and your emotions toward him as not being right, I would like you to take it as a comforting sign. And, you just handed over a weapon you plainly wanted to keep concealed, you didn’t use said weapon to hurt Negan, either,” he pointed out, for which Daryl was grateful. “Perhaps, if you begin to make excuses, begin to feel no sense of having done wrong when you have, I will worry.”

Weirdly enough, he next grinned up at the ceiling. “But I am not, because you are simply broken and in need of healing. You’ll get there, as will I,” he held his hand out to the room. “As will your brother, your husband. All of us.” He sighed. “So long as our hearts are still beating.”

Daryl looked back at his wife in time to see her bit her wobbling lip and nod. Her gaze turned to Rick with the baby. He was kissing TJ’s scrawny little feet.

Her face softened seeing them, and as Daryl’s stomach fluttered again, she turned to look at him. His stomach full-on did a happy flip (and, yeah, he lost his grip on the necklace’s broken link and dropped it).

Y/N said to Rick, “Well, we still need to show ’em that Alexandria—that you—are accountable and fair. How many nights will do, you think?”

Rick shook his head. “Zero. But, because you have a point and won't take 'zero' as an answer,” he quickly added, “how about one?”

“For a piggy, you’re actin’ awful chicken.”

He was unmoved by the cop joke. “Bawk, bawk.”

And Y/N laughed, for what it was worth. And it was worth everything, hot damn was that laugh the best sound.

Daryl figured he might as well check, “What about bail, that still a thing?”

“Not with you owing a whole dollar. That’ll take weeks to pay off,” she said, back to doing her best to lighten up things. He loved her so fucking much, goddamn.

“Supervision when outside the cell,” she stated to Rick.

He shook his head again. “I have a better sentence in mind. When I saw you wearing Lori’s belt earlier today, it reminded me of it. See, and you left this at the infirmary.” He reached into his jacket pocket.

Recognition swept across her face when he held it out. “Do you think he’ll feel safe?”

“The headphone cord is too thin to choke him with, it’d snap.”

“Ricky, that joke was very dark,” she lightly chided.

He squinted, kissing TJ’s feet one more time first. “I hereby sentence you to one night—”

“—Three.”

“One in lock-up,” he spoke over her, then was fast to tack on, “with Daryl and this one as guards.” He motioned to the baby.

"Women shouldn't have male guards," she dryly droned.

"Overruled. You'll also get supervised outings for your duties tomorrow and the day after, including the trip to the Hilltop for Maggie’s prenatal visit. And,” he held up the music player, “you’ll need to listen to music with Siddiq on this. We know it works.” He cocked his head. “Let’s start with 20 minutes per day, like you and I had.”

Some tears slipped out even though she was smiling. She mouthed I love you to him, then asked out loud, “How many days?”

Rick squinted. “Fourteen.”

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

You

“You pick the songs. Whatever you like,” you told him, staring at the photo and rubbing the ‘22’ pendant over your lips. Daryl fixed the chain for you shortly after you’d broken it. You really love him.

Sid accepted the mp3 player out of your hand.

You and he each had one earbud in, one apple beside you, and Michonne sat nearby with Judith. Supervision was your stipulation, yet being proactive about ensuring it had done nothing for how humiliating it was.

Still, you took an objective look and figured Siddiq should know that his safety mattered, that your people were fair and held themselves to standards.

Just looking around the place, it looked as if standards were a given here. That Alexandria’s power grid and some panels were already repaired within three weeks of Negan’s razing was almost unbelievable.

Sucks for the Saviors Cult that the community had been built to withstand up to magnitude 4.1 earthquakes and be fairly fire-safe as part of its self-sustaining (and for-politicians) model, so in the least, a good number of the homes were still standing.

Carl's gazebo was another story, as were other similar structures, like the church, but the ash had been washed off by the rain, and the communities' walls were back up.

Next to you, Siddiq asked you how to work the mp3, citing, “Carl had been the one to…”

Had been the one to work it when he borrowed it to visit you out there, in order to show you some kindness. Before he got himself bit because of you.

The words festered inside of you. Whatever. Let them fester, you felt dead anyway.

As you went to point to show him, the picture hung from your outstretched, bandaged hand. The pic you'd chosen this time was another older one from the before-times, not one of the newer polaroids. You'd been the one to take it, actually, using a disposable camera about five and a half, maybe six years ago.

It was blurry, Lori and Carl had been being silly and stopped posing, Rick was mid-comment. You loved this one.

It felt so unreal now, felt fake.

Felt dead.

You checked your pulse. Still beating.

“The, um, just use-use those two buttons there for up and down to search,” you mumbled, tucking the photograph into your shirt pocket. “That one is for back, that one for options. Press down on the middle to click.”

He went huh. “Here’s the Indian music playlist,” he chuckled. Appears he’d found the Desi Party! playlist. Carl told you he’d played it for him.

Before he’d gotten fucking bitten.

How could your heart rage and ache so much if you were dead?

“It’s got all sorts on it,” you replied blankly to Siddiq. Remembering your oldest sister who’d made all the playlists before handing her mp3 down to you, it felt like she was made up. Felt like everyone was made up, fake. Dead.

“My mother was a big filmi fan,” he shared.

But you simply repeated, “Pick to whatever you like, you’re in charge of the songs.”

There was no emotion in your voice. You didn’t want to chat with him, didn’t want to nerd out about Bollywood music, and also didn’t want to face him after saying such awful things to him early today.

Hating him felt right. It felt "deserved," which is a word you'd learned to not use, thanks to Dale.

Granted, hating Siddiq felt wrong, too, which invited shame to take a seat on your lap.

So, you followed the rev’s advice and took comfort in the shame because it meant your conscience was still ordered in a good direction. It meant you weren’t fully dead yet.

You checked your pulse again to remind yourself that it was still beating. Life was still going.

Father Gabriel had also told you that feeling dead didn’t make you a bad mother or a bad wife or bad person, it simply meant you were broken and grieving.

“Y/N?”

“What?” you growled — and immediately wished it hadn’t come out that way. In your head, you told Carl you were sorry, you’d do better next time. Then, you prayed to stop hating the sight of Siddiq, the sound of his voice. Wished Dale or Hershel or T-Dog or Deanna or Denise or Sasha were there for, for—advice, support, you don’t know…

And because the rev has enough on his plate and needs to rest, maybe later you’d risk everyone’s ire and sneak away to visit Mr. Jones at the junkyard. At least he wasn’t dead yet, too. Maybe visiting him would convince him to move back to Alexandria.

“I never apologized for pulling you backward like that,” Siddiq said to you, a little short. Couldn’t blame him.

In truth, you had done all you were going to do to Negan after smacking him the once, but Sid wouldn’t have known that. Wouldn’t have known how grabbing you like that would flip an alarm, either.

No use moping, if your positions were reversed, you’d have wrangled him back, too.

And yet, you just caught yourself licking your teeth and sneering in response to his apology.

But it wasn’t out of anger or hatred so much as…you still aren’t certain what the emotion was. Grief, depression, shame, all three. You supposed it didn’t make a difference. Didn’t feel like much of anything.

Briefly, you put two fingers to your neck to check your pulse again. Still beating. Still alive.

Alive, and needing to eat some crow, as it were.

“Don’t apologize, you were protectin’ our patient. What I did was wrong,” you recited. “I-I threatened a patient and then whacked him across the face.” Your conscience then prompted you to apologize again for what you’d said to him. “And, just—Siddiq, what I said to you was bullshit and lies and m'sorry I said it. Cruel bullshit, naught else. Don’t go believing a word of it.”

He wasn’t clicking through the playlists and songs anymore.

Appearing uncomfortable, he peeked at you before he put his attention back on the mp3. “Michonne said pulling you like that was a trigger, which is why you, um…I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t know.”

First, you relaxed your jaw. “Ain’t your job to know. It’s mine to learn past it.” Next, you spackled on something of a smile and added quietly, “It’s good that you, that you stepped in. Thank you.” You did mean it, for what it was worth.

How many minutes until the twenty was up, you wondered, and tried to not be obvious about checking the time on your wrist. Eyeing Michonne, she seemed more preoccupied with Judith than with being punctual regarding your penance/sentence.

“PTSD is serious. That’s why I’m sorry, I, um,” Siddiq faltered. He went back to clicking through the music choices.

“We all have at least a little PTSD, bud.” With a light nudge to try and convey camaraderie or something, you attempted to tease, “C'mon, you chosen at least one song, yet?”

“Sorry, let me just, uh…” and with a few more clicks, the first song started. It was Bohemian Rhapsody.

“You chose the playlist ‘Songs Everyone Likes.’”

He chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, figured I couldn’t go wrong with that one.”

The memory of belting out this song with Carl, Glenn, Beth, and Maggie before your group even found the prison whooshed back and you started to smile—until you remembered that Carl was gone now. He was dead.

You’d forgotten all of that for hot second, but your Carl was dead. So was Glenn. So was Beth. So was Lori, who'd joined, so was T-Dog, so was...

Maybe you were dead, too. You felt dead—so, you pressed your fingers to your neck to feel for a pulse.

Still beating.

The lyrics of the song began to register. You know, the early parts like ‘I don’t wanna die,’ and ‘carry on, as if nothing really matters.’ Sounded a little too personal, tell you the truth.

And just like that, the song was skipped. You glanced at Siddiq.

He shook his head. “Not the right mood for it.”

“Mm.”

The intro to the next song in the shuffle was very bouncy, and ‘Dance to the Music’ started to jive through the earbuds. You didn’t sway along like you naturally would have. No urge to.

The song played, finished.

“First time I heard this was in Shrek,” Siddiq made small talk while munching on his apple. “Love that movie.”

You might’ve hummed in acknowledgment, you aren’t sure. He handed your apple to you, you took it. Held it.

The next song started, ‘Young Hearts Run Free.’

The song played, finished.

Siddiq made more small talk. “I remember that one in Romeo + Juliet, the one with, um, Leo DiCaprio. We watched that version in high school after we finished reading it.”

You hummed again. Pressed your fingers to your wrist, just in case. But no, your heart was still beating.

The next song started, ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash.’

“A lot of oldies,” he commented once the singing began. He took the final nibble off his apple.

“But goodies,” you responded, willing yourself to sound less stiff and monotone. “Modern stuff is on this playlist, too, don’t worry.”

The song played. Finished.

The next song started. ‘Another One Bites the Dust.’ Siddiq promptly skipped it once the refrain started and the lyrics sank in.

“Good call,” you grunted.

The next song started. ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.’

“Oh n—please skip this one, too." You loved that one, but you’d queued it up for Glenn at his and Maggie’s wedding, and it was not the time to go reminiscing. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Checked your pulse. Still beating. "Please skip 'Thunderstruck' if it comes on, too?”

The mp3 player clicked as Siddiq skipped the song. Next on the shuffle was ‘Under Pressure.’

He adjusted his seat and coughed. “This one fits.”

A combination sigh/groan was your contribution, because he was right. The two of you were the only doctors major medical personnel left standing.

The song played. Siddiq’s knees and wrists bounced to the rhythm where he sat beside you. You stared at your boots. Where’d all the soot and dirt on them and your clothes come from, you couldn’t remember…

…

It was when a strong gust of cold wind blew that you noticed that the music had stopped, your earbud was out, and the sky wasn’t as cloudy anymore.

When did that happen?

You sat up and blinked a few times, your apple still in one hand, Shane’s necklace in the other.

“Hey,” you heard Siddiq call.

What, why were your cheeks wet? “S-sorry, I,” you dropped the necklace, wiped your eyes with your sleeve, and put the apple down, “must’ve, um, checked out.”

“I’m not sure how long it was after it began when I noticed the change,” he let you know. “Is…this what happened earlier?”

You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Earlier was somethin’ else. This was just—” ‘Dissociation,’ was a misunderstood word, so Denise taught you. And you didn’t want to use the word for that reason.

You really wanted to keep a shred of dignity for yourself in the eyes of that guy. He didn’t even know that you’d hurt yourself when you’d ‘blacked out’ the other day…so, you decided upon a white lie highly euphemistic layman's term. “I spaced out.”

He nodded, but his brows sunk, as if he weren’t buying it.

And when he did that thing where someone slightly opens their mouth because they’ve put together a response, you changed the subject. “Listen to anythin’ good while I was in space?”

Siddiq wasn’t swayed. “Do you still feel detached?”

“A little,” you answered truthfully, breathing deep and checking your watch to try gauging how long you’d been out. Except, you had no recollection of what time it had been earlier, so it was a bust. God save you, you were a mess.

“Sid. I’m sorry you’re trapped dealin’ with this shit, it ain’t fair to you. If, if you wanna bounce early, don’t feel obligated to stay, and, and—like, if you don’t wanna do this whole music thing, it’s fine. W-we don’t want you feelin’ unsafe.”

“Unsafe? Y/N, I…” he paused. “I forgive you for what you said earlier. And I’m not scared of you. Hitting Negan wasn’t okay, but…” another pause. “Compared to the way most others are baying for his blood and how you defended saving his life, I mean—you helped me save him, Y/N—” He lifted his hands, palms to the sky. “You’re my friend, we work together, it’s not like I can’t see that you’re drowning.”

Nothing prepared you to hear that.

He was calling you a friend and was still trying to be understanding, after all that…

You wanted to slam your head on a hard, rough surface and cry from the shame and simultaneous relief. You also didn’t want to accept it, and so pushed back: “You were alone out there too long. Friends d-don’t tell friends they wish they were dead.” And mean it, you did not confess.

But of all things, he merely raised one shoulder and snorted. “I’m a really good friend?”

Tears spilled at the same time that you almost laughed. No, it's true, you almost laughed. Things felt a little unreal again, but in not a bad way. The most you could do right then was send up thanks for the mercy that came out of the mess. You pinched your wrist first, then felt for your pulse.

“Compared to a few minutes ago, do you feel more like yourself now?” Siddiq made sure.

Huh. You used to ask Shane a very similar question, when he was forgetting his goodness.

You kept feeling the small beats at your wrist, reminding you that you were indeed alive, therefore capable of healing and growth.

“Heart’s still beating,” you sniffled, making yourself smile at him. The hatred and disgust you’d felt earlier seemed to you less like a fact and more like a bad dream.

Then, from the far right of the oak tree, you heard Aaron’s voice saying, “Not yet, man, they’ve got four minutes left.”

Aaron and Daryl then came into view. They waved to you as they walked by with the babies, another reminder that you that you weren’t fully dead inside. Gracie was in a stroller, TJ was bundled in Daryl’s arms. Your husband lingered behind, eyes on you as he absently pecked a kiss to your baby’s covered head.

Something stirred, and your chest fluttered and tugged in their direction, reminding you again that your heart was still beating. So was Maggie’s, so was her and Glenn’s baby’s, so was Rick’s, so was Aaron’s. Life was still going. You had a child, a husband; lifelines. Their hearts were still beating, too.

The unexpected wink and the way Daryl’s gaze softened as he looked at you made you feel as if you’d been freezing and someone just handed you a cup of cocoa with mini marshmallows. The way he next moved his lips to pronounce ‘troublemaker,’ however, you ought to have seen coming a mile away.

The heaviness in your body eased a bit. A smile started prodding the corners of your mouth. Shyly, you returned the wave and mouthed ‘mangy hick,’ your wrist bumping against the photograph sticking from your shirt pocket.

Aaron noticed him acting like a dope lagging and gestured for him to keep up. “Four more minutes and we’ll come back to get her.”

Daryl called out "slowpoke," and waved your baby’s little arm to the two of you as they walked away. He kept peeking behind him, too, it warmed you. When they reached far enough, you once again took the photograph out from your pocket.

With a final peek at Carl’s picture, you sent up a prayer and reaffirmed the promise that you’d made to him. That you’d live for him, do him proud.

So long as your heart was still beating, you’d try to do him proud. “Seems you and I got four more minutes, Sid. What’ll we pick?”

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

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

And here's the picture prize for getting through the long chapter!

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hvcmixtape · 1 year

Text

this is for the lovely cece! (@shuatm) surprise i'm sh(elle), hence the 🐚 emoji for when i was messaging you as your secret santa <3 i hope you really enjoy this fic! i really liked the mistle-foe game you played with your friends so i repurposed it in a way to fit the fic! and aside from the fic, i hope your christmas and holiday season has been lovely so far and you have great energy coming into the new year

and thank you to my friends in the @k-labels server who worked alongside me for the past days while i was getting this done! shout out to davin (@renhaissance), soul (@l-luvr), kana (@luvhyun3), freya (@angelwoozi), and zoe (@badwithten) who were all there at some point while i was writing this so thank you for playing a huge role in me finishing this fic!

pairing: high school!joshua x fem!reader; academic rival!joshua wc: ~5k genre: fluff ; some swearing, but no trigger warnings

The second you feel an icy, dripping sensation down the back of your neck, it’s over for him. You whip your head around and scrunch your nose, balling your fists to edge the urge to scream. “I’ll kill you, Joshua Hong!”

“You can’t kill me, I’m half your grade!” He yells behind his back as he starts tripping over his feet before Joshua goes into a full sprint—as much as he can run with snow on the ground.

With your scarf thrown around your neck, it coasts on the wind behind you as you start to run after Joshua, weaving through the crowd of students waiting for their rides home at the end of the school day. You yell out warnings to passersby, more so for yourself so you don’t jinx anything and fall flat on your face.

You know you’ve caught up to his figure when you grip a hand on the shoulder of his black puffer. “Gotcha!”

…And that’s not the face you were looking for when you are met with the soft face of Jeonghan, one of your classmates. “Sorry, Hannie, you weren’t the person I was looking for. But I’ll see you later!”

Your eyes squint as you see Joshua’s face beyond the scope of Jeonghan and before he can accept your apology, you’re already moving forward with fire in your eyes. The satisfying crunch of fallen snow can’t be more satisfying than the punch you’ll throw toward Joshua’s chest in a few seconds—

“Wait a minute, (Y/N)!” Joshua’s desperate voice is accompanied by his open palms protecting his chest. Your lips purse toward one side of your face as you hold yourself back from moving. Any closer and you’d be in his face. “You can’t kill me because one, our final project is still not done and I’m literally half your grade, and two, we have to get going—everyone’s waiting for us to draw the names for Secret Santa.”

With a roll of your eyes, you let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. You’re spared,” and with a sailing fist to his bicep, “for now.”

“(Y/N), ow. That actually hurt.” Joshua pouts, but he still leads the way toward Seungcheol’s house, the location of the Secret Santa drawing and exchange for the past four years. Now that you’re all seniors, you’re sure the burning thought on everyone’s minds is where the future will take you all. But the thought of the future can’t overshadow what’s in front of you, and what’s in front of you is Joshua Hong, the guy you’ve been chasing after in each class since freshman year.

His tongue-in-cheek bickering has accompanied each assignment you’ve had, and when you get even a point lower on a test, your blood boils in your chest when his condescending voice sings, “Maybe you can do better next time, I’ll teach you if you want.”

How you ended up being in the same friend group as your academic rival was lost on you, yet your dynamic with Joshua has never changed throughout the years.

“You had to be nice to each other at least once, right? Like maybe when we first formed the friend group?” Seungkwan reasoned when he brought it up to you earlier in the semester. Everyone was there except Joshua, who had soccer practice. “Joshua’s one of the nicest people I know too!”

“To everyone except me! Believe me,” you scoff at Seungkwan’s frown. “I’ve tried to be nice to him, but sometimes he’s just so insufferable,” you argue on your lonely island of one. From the corner of your eye, you could see Mingyu and Wonwoo share a look, and you huff. “I’m being serious! Like no way someone is just their mama’s boy who always goes to church is so nice all the time.”

“Sounds like you’re projecting,” Vernon chides as one of his eyebrows lifts up. “We’ve been friends all this time, and you still can't get along with him. Have you even tried to put in any effort?”

So maybe you've put in a good 5 percent of effort to be nice before you start being catty, but it's also on Joshua to be nice to you too! Like he’s being right now as he lets you go ahead of him when you approach Seungcheol’s door.

You tiptoe in, but there’s no use when Seungcheol yells, “Finally! We’ve been waiting for too long.” He emerges from the other room and his eyes almost bug out of his head when he sees the sight ahead of him. With a low whistle, there’s a smirk on his face that you want to get rid of. “Ho, ho, ho, merry Christmas, am I right? Can’t believe I’m seeing a Christmas miracle.”

“Fuck off, Cheol.” Jabbing your thumb in the air behind you, you explain that you weren’t planning on coming in together. “But this kid wanted to throw a snowball at the back of my neck.”

“Hey, it was just so tempting considering the first snowfall was yesterday.”

“What’s so tempting is me punching you for real.”

Joshua’s face gets increasingly closer to yours, finding a way to tick you off further. “Oh? Why don’t you do it then?” You can feel his breath on you as he taunts you.

You start walking over to where you hear the rest of your friends, but Seungcheol grips your shoulder. “Uh, uh, uh. Look up.”

You and Joshua tilt your chins up to the ceiling, green leaves tied together with a red bow taunting your whole being.

“Mistletoe…” Joshua whispers as he dissects the leaves with his vision, as if it'll slowly dissipate the longer he looks at it.

“Like hell, I’ll kiss Joshua.” You shove Seungcheol lightly, pushing your way toward the living room where your friends’ faces lighten up at your appearance.

“(Y/N)!” Seungkwan exclaims happily. “Did you get stuck under the mistletoe? I heard a little bit of what you were saying at the door.”

“Yeah, (Y/N) didn't wanna kiss me, their loss,” Joshua says as he shrugs himself around you, tossing his backpack on the ground and joining Seungkwan and Vernon on the carpet.

With Seungcheol following not soon after, he yells, “Mingyu, how many times have I told you not to put your feet on the coffee table?”

Mingyu puts his feet back on the ground. As Joshua, Seungkwan, and Vernon sit around the coffee table to discuss the physics test they just took, Wonwoo and Mingyu sit on one couch, and Seungcheol makes his way to sit beside Jeonghan (who somehow made it there before you and Joshua) on the other couch.

You take the last seat near the fireplace, kicking off your shoes and curling up near the heat. You've always loved Seungcheol’s house. During the holiday season, you loved to help his mother hang stockings on the mantle and ornaments on their tree. Her highest compliment was her loving how you arranged the poinsettias on their dining table. It’s a good change of pace from what you're used to.

“Who’s ready to pick?” Seungcheol pipes up once individual conversations die down.

“I mean, it doesn’t matter because we’ll know immediately who (Y/N) has,” Joshua jokes and Vernon dabs him up for that.

You can’t help but roll your eyes and say, “Yeah, let’s just start before Joshua has anything else to say about me.”

Just like last year and the year before that, Vernon takes a beanie out of his backpack to serve as the selection bowl. Each person rips a small slip of paper from Jeonghan’s notebook and writes their name down. Again, the thoughts flood your head, wondering if next year will be anything like this when you all go down your different paths.

“Everyone put their names in the hat,” Vernon puts his arms out, and everyone reaches over to drop their paper in.

“Hey, watch it!” Seungkwan glares at Jeonghan when he feels his head jostling from a push.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Jeonghan says but still laughs heartily as he settles back into the couch before Seungkwan can launch himself to get in a punch. Even though Jeonghan is older than him, Seungkwan’s hands and feet are ready for anything, especially if it’s Dino, the youngest friend in their friend group.

Mingyu leads by pinching the fabric closed and shaking it. With his eyes closed, he opens it back up and selects a slip out of the hat, slower than ever.

“Does he know that this isn’t the Triwizard Cup?” Vernon quips, and you can’t help but laugh. Everyone else starts erupting, whether it’s in chuckles or complaints, and one of Mingyu’s eyes slowly opens.

When he figures out who he has, he nods with a smile and passes the hat to Wonwoo. It keeps going on and on until it’s Joshua’s turn.

While you hope you don’t get Joshua, you do hope that he does get you. Out of all the boys, Joshua is the most thoughtful when it comes to gift-giving. Three years ago, as freshmen, you received the best gift you’ve probably ever gotten.

“This is a huge package,” you mutter to yourself, and you glare immediately at Seungcheol before he says any “that’s what she said” jokes. As you’re removing the wrapping paper, you’re wondering what you could have done in your life (and past life) to be the recipient of such a big gift.

“You’re taking so long, (Y/N),” Jeonghan complains as you try to remove the wrapping paper all in one piece. Even the wrapping paper is beautiful with metallic gold and silver lines running along it. “You’re not even going to keep it!”“You don’t know that!” You yell back.

He totally knows that you won’t.

As you speed up the process, you open the box and are met with a Studio Ghibli movie poster for your room, a stunning stationery set, and an Animal crossing figure for your favorite villager. You’re ready to move on and guess who gave you your present, but you notice one last small box in the corner of the package.

When you pick it up, the suede container is so enticing, but you want to savor the moment. You lift the top off.

“(Y/N), you’re going to catch flies,” Vernon laughs.

“What is it?” Seungkwan leans over, and when his eyes catch what’s inside, he knows why you can’t help dropping your jaw.

You unconsciously rub your neck, running your finger over the gem and the initial of your first name attached to the chain. It has always been your favorite gift, even if your rival was the one who gave it to you.

Joshua loves to act like he has everything under control, so when he pulls his slip of paper, the smile on his face never fades. There is no scrunch between his eyebrows or nose. He’s the poster boy for calm, cool, and collected.

Right after him is you and you’re determined to be just like Joshua. He passes you the hat, maintaining eye contact for probably the first time in a month before he goes back to joking with Jeonghan about your facial expressions.

You choose the slip of fate after swishing your fingers around. Before you open it, you swivel your head to check if anyone’s looking and lean back in your chair.

The folds get straightened out and your heart rate rises, by a lot, and your eyebrows pull up toward the top of your forehead, and—

There’s no way…you got Joshua?

You’ve crossed off each day on your calendar, and today is no exception. Before you leave your bedroom, you take your red pen and cross off on December 19th, the last day of school before winter break. Underneath the number, a reminder is written about the Secret Santa exchange.

There’s no need to ask you how you feel about being Joshua’s gift-giver this season, especially given the fact that you could very well be his last one too. In the conversations that you overhear (not eavesdrop), he’s told Vernon and Jeonghan that he’s in talks with an entertainment company in his mother’s homeland. He wants to make a name for himself and try it out for a year. If it works out, he’ll keep going. If it doesn’t work out, he’ll apply to UCLA or UC Irvine just like everyone else.

What an extravagant plan for a gap year, huh?

Either way, you want to make this the best Secret Santa any of your friends have ever seen.

Bless the soul of your teachers, who seem to want to work less than the students, and you breeze through the day with a full stomach from the holiday parties in each class period. At the end of the day, the school assembles in the auditorium for the annual senior superlative Christmas show.

Seungcheol sits on a throne as the star of the show, Santa Claus—as if he could have been anyone else. Mingyu and Wonwoo opted to be Santa’s security and stand behind him with black vests and shades, arms crossed as if they were monitoring the situation. Vernon hangs out on the edge of the stage with Jeonghan and Seungkwan, who are all gingerbread men. You’re sitting in the back of the stands, ruffling your wings when they call out the names of the angels. The one you want to laugh at is Joshua, whose been appointed as everyone’s favorite red-nosed reindeer.

The show goes off without a hitch, and you can’t say you were surprised when your ears perked up when you hear your name called…in conjunction with Joshua’s.

“Been working since freshman year for this very moment,” Joshua quips as he slings his arm around your shoulder to pose for the photographer. This very picture will be going into the yearbook with the description “Best School Rivals.”

“I’m clearly the better one,” you roll your eyes after the flash goes off.

“In your dreams, (Y/N),” he says behind his shoulder as you both head back to your seats.

There’s not much left in the school day when the show ends with all the seniors thanking their teachers with words and gifts, so you’re ready to exchange your halo and wings for comfier clothing to go to Seungcheol’s house for Secret Santa.

“Ah, (Y/N), don’t change until after the exchange,” Jeonghan tells you as you clean out your locker for the semester.

You’re still placing books into your bag when you ask for the reason.

“We need to take pictures! We’re only seniors once,” he cites the reason for almost every single stupid thing the boys have done to excuse their actions. “If you’re ready, then we can go to Seungcheol’s together?”

You scan up and down the locker before you grab the Christmas bag at the bottom of it. You shut it afterward and say, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

When entering Seungcheol’s house, you’re careful with where you stand and with whom. You’re certain there can’t be any mistletoe above the door frame, but you never know, so you make sure that Jeonghan walks ahead of you. There’s a breath of relief you’ve never felt before until you saw there was no green bouquet taped to the wall of the front door.

Just when you think it couldn’t get more festive, there’s more baubles and ornaments on the Christmas tree, a strip of hanging lights around the mantle, and is that even more tinsel?!

“Your mom has outdone herself, as she always does,” you muse as Seungcheol brings out bowls of snacks and sets them on the living room table.

He’s still dressed in his Santa costume, somewhat, as his jacket and thick belt rest on one of the chairs. “Do you expect anything less from her?”

You pluck a piece of popcorn from the bowl and shake your head with a chuckle. “Where’s everyone else?” You ask, your eyes peering at the backpacks surrounding the coffee table. You place yours near theirs, but the gift bag stays with you.

“Changing back into their costumes because Jeonghan told Seungkwan that he wanted to take a picture and everyone already came here changed out of them.”

Classic.

One by one, the boys come back to their usual spots, adorned in the very same costumes as they wore on stage with small modifications here and there to look less dressed up.

When Joshua comes back to sit on the floor near you, you call his name. When his head turns toward you, you can’t help but tap the end of his nose. “Your nose is still so red.”

“Really?” He scrunches his face as he pulls out his phone to view his reflection in the camera app. “Fuck, I tried using Cheol’s face soap too.” He groans and shakes his head. Glancing down at the bag you’ve placed in your lap, Joshua purses his lips. “Who’s it for?”

“Tell you as soon as you tell me, Hong.” You point your chin to the box near him. “Who’s the lucky person with your gift this year?” There’s no malice in your voice.

“Someone you know well.” He chuckles at the gears turning in your head, rendering you more confused.

Now that everyone settles into their seats, Jeonghan says you all should take a picture before the gifts are revealed, and insists further when the sounds of grumbles fill his ears.

The group shuffles into positions, and you slide down to sit next to Joshua, which may have been the wrong decision because he leans over to attempt to peer into the bag.

“What the hell, Joshua,” you mutter. “I knew someone was going to try to do that so I put way too much tissue paper in here.” You press the top shut, sticking your tongue out at Joshua before it’s time to pose for the picture.

Jeonghan takes charge of the running back and forth for the timer, something everyone is beyond used to by now.

Vernon’s the first to say something when the dust of picture-taking settles. “Are we gonna start or what?” Everyone places their gifts on the coffee table, sizing up what could be theirs.

Seungcheol and Vernon go head to head with rock paper scissors. (A game that’s actually fair since the last time they tried to settle things with an arm wrestle, Vernon yelped so loud.) Vernon wins best 2 out of 3, so he searches for the tag that’s his.

“Sweet,” Vernon talks to himself as he opens the box and finds a beanie and a chain resting on top of a hoodie. “Can I guess…” He surveys his options. “Mingyu?” The guy shakes his head. “Wonwoo?”

“Yep, I got you.” Vernon walks over to give his gift giver an appreciative hug.

Seungkwan’s turn is a blur because you know you’re up next after him. All you know is that Mingyu gave him a Starbucks giftcard and a new equipment bag for his upcoming volleyball season.

“It’s (Y/N)’s turn,” Seungcheol sing-songs with a bit of a naughty grin. Your stomach drops a little bit, and then even more as you realize the very gift meant for you is the gift Joshua was holding.

Your very wish had come true.

“You really got me, Joshua?” You look to him before you pick up the gift and he nods with a smile that you usually don’t see when it comes to you. It’s in beautiful wrapping paper, just like last time. You wonder if his mom’s the one who wrapped it this time and the time three years ago because knowing that Joshua absolutely sucks at knitting does not give you the most hope.

To prevent this time around from being a repeat, you rip the paper, even though you would have loved to repurpose it in some way, shape, or form. It’s a box, similar to the one that Vernon had from Wonwoo, and you remove the top.

Your hands fly to your chest as soon as your eyes took in the sight. Pictures upon pictures pasted on top of each other, all forming to create a heart. The words on top make out the words “You’re the best, (Y/N)” and now your own heart is in your throat.

You scan the poster, recalling the memories that come with the pictures. There’s one off-guard photo that you never even knew existed from when you and Joshua actually spent time alone together and you didn’t explode somehow. It was a biting winter day just like this one and you threw freshly-fallen snow into the air, smiling as the snowflakes drifted wherever the wind took it. You’ve never seen such a natural smile and yet, here it is in this very picture.

“There’s some other things underneath the collage,” Joshua says, his voice coming out gentler than you expected.

Keychains for the people who have already committed to their colleges—Vernon’s heading to NYU, Cheol and Jeonghan are both going to Berkeley, and Wonwoo’s going to UC Irvine. (So many smart boys you’ve got in the group.) There’s one more, a keychain for Pledis Entertainment.

“It’s to remind yourself of me,” Joshua explains. “I’m not going to college yet. Or ever, depending on how this whole idol thing goes.”

“You’ll do so good, Joshua,” you whisper because that’s as loud as you can get without your tears overflowing. You continue to move on with the gift, finding a pair of the cutest frog plush slippers, an apple pie candle, and a slip promising you that he’ll make you cold cider before the season ends.

Lastly, a sealed envelope rests at the bottom of the box and Joshua implores you not to open it in front of everyone and just wait until you’re by yourself. “Just wait until you’re home.”

The other boys ooo-and-ahh, especially Seungkwan who wants to know why. “Secret feelings maybe?”

Cheol snorts and says, “Maybe a copy of his perfect grades.”

You smile at Joshua before putting everything back into the box and placing the top back. “Thank you, Joshua.”

The group continues with Mingyu, but your mind is still stuck on Joshua. This whole time, you’ve been shitting on him and he created you such a beautiful ensemble of presents. There’s not necessarily a pang of guilt, but more so a pang of “I’ve always seen Joshua as an academic rival, but why am I so committed to the bit?” and your eyebrows furrow at the thought.

You try to connect back as it’s now Wonwoo’s turn, but you can’t fully tune back in until it’s Joshua’s turn.

“How did we manage to have each other?” Joshua muses, concluding that the bag in your lap was for him.

He pulls out the tissue paper, commenting that you definitely put too much in here, but he finds the last piece and places it down.

Your heart beats faster, and you can’t tell if it’s from seeing his hands dip into the gift bag, or the way his hair parts, or the sheer anxiety that you didn’t pick the right presents especially knowing he gave you amazing ones.

Regardless, nothing beats the way his smile grows wider than when he pulls out your gifts in a line.

“Wow, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says about a rabbit polaroid picture holder.

“This is your favorite, isn’t it?” He asks about a book you gifted him after you reading it in class piqued his interest.

“I love this scarf!” He exclaims, the colorful fabric pulling apart as far as his wingspan will allow.

Despite only giving three things, Joshua pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder as his hands rub up and down your arms.

When he lets go, you kind of wonder how it would have been to stay in the hug longer but your brain doesn’t stray for too long when Joshua thanks you profusely for the gifts. “These are all so thoughtful, thank you (Y/N).”

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you like them.”

If only you could see the shock on everyone else’s faces as they watched this scene unfold, but even after Jeonghan and Seungcheol unwrap their gifts, the question bearing on your mind still bothers you.

“How did everyone else manage to get someone different, but Joshua and I got each other?” You ask, pointing to the two of you. While Vernon’s clasping his chain on and Seungkwan’s pressing his new tangerine pin next to the other three he has on his backpack, Seungcheol and Jeonghan try not to make eye contact. Mingyu and Wonwoo suddenly increase in volume.

“Hey! For real,” Joshua agrees with your question. “There’s no way this happened by chance.”

Everyone stops what they’re doing and all of a sudden, it’s so easy to make eye contact because the 6 of them look toward each other for an answer to produce.

“It was his idea,” both Seungcheol and Jeonghan say at the same time. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to say, but there are none.

“I mean, okay, it may have been my idea,” Jeonghan admits, scratching the back of his ear. “We all just kind of wanted to see you guys be nice to each other for once, instead of at each other’s throats for the rest of the year.”

Vernon adds, “Yeah, you're probably going to kill each other for the top 2 rankings, but you're friends before you guys are classmates.” He grips Joshua’s shoulder. “And dude, I know you don’t really feel that way about (Y/N). You’re only rude when you’re around her.”

“We know how you truly feel about (Y/N). You li—” Seungkwan’s eyebrows wiggle and Joshua physically lungs at him, pressing his hand to his mouth. With Vernon in the middle trying to lean back so he doesn’t get weighed down by Joshua’s body, it looks like a weird family photo.

After a moment, Joshua straightens himself and takes a deep breath in and out. His composure doesn’t dismiss the fact that his face is redder than the remaining face paint on his nose.

Mingyu jumps out of his seat, pulling on Wonwoo’s arm. “Ah, I have a phone call to take! Wonwoo has to come too.”

“I didn’t hear your ringtone go off.” Wonwoo narrows his eyes, but allows himself to be dragged away into Seungcheol’s kitchen across the house.

“Cheol, I’m hungry, do you have food?” Vernon perks up, looking at his friend. “Seungkwan’s hungry too.”

“There’s chips right there?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, but sighs. “Fuck it, come on. Jeonghan, I know you’re hungry too.” He herds the rest of them into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

You’re dumbfounded with the way you’re just left with these feelings that swirl around your head. “Did you know?”

“About this?” Joshua points to the gifts. “Not at all. But now that I think about it, I probably should have guessed.” He laughs and there’s a relieved look on his face when your stone face relaxes.

“Thank you for the gifts again.” You say to fill the space of silence. “Kinda sad you’re not staying here.”

“There’s still one more semester left. You can’t get rid of me just yet.” Joshua shifts to sit directly across from you. “Even though they arranged it to be this way, I’m glad I got to be your Secret Santa.”

You smile, looking down at your hands. “So what was Seungkwan talking about when he was talking about feelings?” You watch the pads of your fingers dance with one another as you wait for his response.

“Well, yeah, it’’s true that I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone, but well, I can’t tell if you hate me or not.”

Your face falls, finally feeling that pang of guilt. “I think I just got so caught up with being the best that I never really considered how you felt. I…” your voice trails off. “I don’t hate you, Joshua.” Your voice gets quieter and quieter. “It’s kind of the opposite, I think.”

“What?”

You groan, finally looking at him in the eye. “This is going to sound so stupid, but I think my feelings took the wheel and I was rude to you to mask how I felt about you.”

“What kind of feelings are we talking?” Joshua cocks his head, being careful with the moves he puts forward.

“Ugh, I don’t want to say it, but I like you?” Your statement comes out more as a question, but the confirmation is rock solid.

Joshua runs his hand through the locks of his hair as he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, (Y/N). Freshman year, biology class.”

“No way.” You laugh in disbelief but your tone gets more serious as you continue, “You let me speak to you like that even though you liked me?” Your palm flies to your forehead, fingers clutching your hair.

“It was kinda fun. Teasing you and all that.” Joshua chuckles. “But yeah, I’ve liked you since then and I thought maybe I could say something about it before senior year ends. That’s what’s in the envelope.”

All of a sudden, scurrying footsteps tiptoe on the floor of the living room and the only thing you see is Seungcheol violently tossing something green and running away immediately after.

It lands in Joshua’s lap. It’s a green bouquet, wrapped in a red ribbon. “Mistletoe, good one, Cheol,” Joshua yells in the direction of the kitchen with no response. “Well, if we have mistletoe, we can’t disappoint.” He shrugs as he holds the end of the mistletoe above your heads.

“I guess not,” you reply with a grin before licking your bottom lip, taking one good look at him, and at last, pressing your lips to his.

(You know the saying, keep your friends close and your rivals closer? Thanks to this Christmas miracle, you finally believe it.)

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blueskrugs · 2 years

Text

closure | Sidney Crosby

happy (belated) birthday sid, sorry your present is an angsty fic.

I started this one a year and a half ago, picked it back up a few weeks ago to try and get it done by 8/7, wrote 2000 words, decided to change half of it, went to summer camp for a week, got writer’s block for one last scene, and now we’re here. finally.

length: 4.5k words

It’s been a long time And seeing the shape of your name Still spells out pain

Margaret Thomas didn’t hate Sidney Crosby. No, that required too much energy. Margaret would just rather not think about him, which was easier said than done. He was no longer “Sid the Kid,” but he was still a force to be reckoned with on the ice. Sometimes he seemed inescapable—there were commercials featuring him running on ESPN, and it seemed like at least once a week he pulled off some ridiculous feat that only Sidney Crosby could do that was in all the highlight reels for days. It wasn’t for lack of trying on her part, though; Margaret didn’t watch much hockey these days, and her ties with the hockey world had been severed as abruptly as their relationship. Margaret hadn’t quite moved on, but she was okay again.

Margaret wondered sometimes who knew all of the details of their breakup all those years ago. Her relationship with Sid had been as quiet as Sid could keep it, but she had been there for the Cups, for the gold medals. Those memories, those pictures, would go down in history alongside his name, engraved in silver and gold. It had been a cute story once, the boy who saved the Penguins falls in love with a girl from Pittsburgh, settles down and sticks around. That’s how it was supposed to go, at least.

Margaret is surprised when she gets a letter in the mail, mixed in amongst junk and bills. Who sends letters anymore? The return address is unfamiliar, but the careful, spidery handwriting spelling out her name and the little “SPC” in the corner is as familiar as her own.

Of course Sid would send a letter, after all these years, after cutting off all contact after the break-up, stubbornly old-fashioned person that he was. She was annoyed that that thought was still laced with fondness underneath the bitterness. Margaret wondered, too, how he’d gotten her address; Margaret had moved since the breakup, and she didn’t keep in contact with anyone on the team or their wives enough to warrant ever sending a Christmas card.

Margaret carefully slides her finger under the flap of the envelope and pulls out the letter inside. It, too, was handwritten, because of course it was. Margaret takes a deep breath and begins to read.

I’m sure you’re surprised to be hearing from me after all these years. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought about reaching out, but I didn’t think you’d ever want to hear from me. I’ve even started writing this a few times, but I could never get the words right.

Margaret scoffs, more than a little bitter. She wonders what was so important to finally make him reach out after all these years. She briefly thinks of crumpling up the letter and tossing it in the trash, but her curiosity got the better of her. Margaret keeps reading.

I wanted to say that I’m sorry for the way things ended between us. It wasn’t fair to you. I wish I could’ve done it differently, or not done it at all, but there’s no way to change the past, is there? I didn’t realize it at the time, but I probably really hurt you. I should’ve apologized a long time ago.

Sid’s words were uncovering a hurt Margaret thought she’d buried deep long ago. He was right, though, there was no changing the past. She brushes away a tear before it can land on the sheet of paper in her hand. There was more to the letter.

I’ll be playing in my 1250th game soon. They’re treating it like a big milestone. Jen’s been talking about rounding up some people for interviews or something. I saw your name on a list and wanted to give you a head’s up before she called.

Margaret remembered the videos from Sid’s 1000th game. No one had reached out to her to make a video for Sid that time. She doesn’t know what she would’ve said, anyway.

I don’t know what she’ll ask you to do, but I want you to know that you’re not obligated to do anything. You certainly don’t owe me anything.

He had that right. He hadn’t even offered Margaret a proper explanation for why he ended a years-long relationship, or a proper goodbye.

It happened the day of Sid’s Cup party in 2017. Sid pulled Margaret aside as the party was wrapping up, nothing more than a few drunken stragglers and friends and family sticking around to clean up. Sid looked nervous as she followed him into a quiet room.

“What’s up?” Margaret asked.

Sid didn’t make any move to sit and neither did Margaret. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I think this needs to stop,” he said. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“What?” Margaret asked. Drunk on summer sun and champagne, she wasn't following.

“I-” Sid looked uncertain for a moment. “I think we need to break up.”

“What?” she said again. Margaret didn’t know what she was expecting when Sid asked her to come with him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“I want to break up,” Sid said firmly. “I need some space.”

Margaret had lied. She knew exactly what she’d been expecting. A ring, a future and a life together. They’d talked about it, even. Margaret felt like Sid had punched her in the gut. She almost wished he had, actually. That would hurt less than this.

“I don’t understand, Sid,” Margaret said. She thought they were happy. She thought Sid loved her. She had been wrong about both, apparently.

“I’m sorry,” was all Sid said as he brushed past Margaret and went back outside. She faintly heard a cheer go up as he reemerged. Margaret slipped upstairs. Despite all the people milling around, Sid still valued his privacy, and he didn’t have anyone staying in any of the guest bedrooms. It was easy to move her things into one down the hall while the party wrapped up outside.

Margaret flew out from Halifax the next morning. Her things were cleaned out of Sid’s house and into a new apartment of her own before Sid was back in Pittsburgh for training camp in September. She deleted his phone number in October. She never saw him again. It was probably for the best that way.

Margaret’s hands shake. Frustrated, she throws the piece of paper, but it simply flutters to the ground at her feet. She isn’t sure who she’s more upset with—Sid, for still holding a piece of her heart, or herself, for still allowing Sid to break her heart after all these years. Margaret steps over the paper and wanders into her kitchen. She pulls open the fridge and stares aimlessly into it for a long moment. On the floor behind her, Sid’s letter sits, only half read, taunting her. Margaret slams the fridge shut. The rattling of the things on the door is only satisfying for a moment.

She walks back over and picks up the letter again. She slides to the floor to read the last few lines.

I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s too much to ask that you could forgive me one day, but I do hope that we can talk about it sometime. But I guess you don’t really owe me that either.

There was no closing, no autograph signature either, just “Sid” scrawled in messy cursive at the bottom of the page.

Margaret crumples up the letter and throws it again. It lands somewhere behind her couch. It, too, doesn’t feel as satisfying as she’d like.

Margaret carefully puts it out of her mind. Or tries to, at least. The letter stays crumpled on the floor of her living room, but it doesn’t matter because it feels like she's committed Sid’s careful words to memory, echoing in her head when her guard was down.

Margaret’s phone rings a week after the letter arrives. It’s a Pittsburgh area code, a number she doesn’t have saved to her contacts, and she answers it warily.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Maggie, this is Jen with the Penguins communications department, do you remember me?”

Of course Margaret remembers Jen. Jen was solely responsible for keeping the team from making fools of themselves most of the time.

“Of course,” Margaret tells her. She knows why Jen is calling.

“Well, I’m sure you know that Sid’s coming up on a new milestone soon, and we’ve been tracking down some friends from over the years for some more videos like we had for his 1000th game, and maybe to get some stories about Sid when he was younger,” Jen says, as businesslike as ever. She doesn’t mention the fact that Margaret had been left off the list of friends for Sid’s 1000th game, and neither does she.

“Yeah, uh, Sid gave me a heads up that you might be calling,” Margaret says without thinking.

Jen pauses. “I didn’t realize you two were still in touch.”

“Something like that,” she says wryly.

Jen continues. “We’d love to have you come out to PPG one day soon to get some footage, whenever it works for you.”

Margaret hesitates. Even with Sid’s heads up, she somehow wasn't prepared to be asked for an in-person interview. She had thought Jen would just have her record something in her apartment and send it back to Jen. It would give Margaret unlimited takes to cuss out her ex in the privacy of her own home before she could string together enough warm and complimentary words. Driving down to PPG came with the risk of running into Sid, and Margaret wasn't sure there was ever enough time to prepare herself for that.

“Can I think about it? It’s been a long time,” Margaret hears herself say.

She hears Jen’s sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, but when she speaks again, she sounds unbothered. “Sure! I’ll leave you be for now, but get back to me in a few days, alright?” Margaret wonders briefly what Sid told Jen about their breakup. He had to have some explanation, some warning, for her, in case she’d taken the “crazy jilted ex” route and exposed him on social media or something. Lucky for him, that had never been Margaret’s style.

In the end, Margaret agrees. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel so much contempt for Sid to not do this small thing. She wished she could. She hated that she couldn’t make herself hate him.

Margaret drove downtown to PPG Paints Arena on a Saturday afternoon. Jen had assured her that the players would be cleared out after film review and an optional skate, and that she had no risk of running into anyone. Margaret wanted to avoid Sid most of all, but she wasn’t sure she could handle having to make small talk with Tanger or Geno, or meeting some young player who didn’t even know who she was, after she and Sid had carefully erased each other from their histories.

Jen meets Margaret at the door and quickly ushers her into a small, dimly lit room. It isn’t crowded, just a couple of cameras, a camera operator, and Margaret and Jen. Jen shuts the door behind her and takes a seat across from Margaret. She spares a second to be thankful that she was staying, a familiar face. Brighter flights flick on, and Jen smiles as Margaret blinks a few times to adjust.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been around, how have you been?” Jen asks.

Margaret isn’t sure if the cameras are rolling yet. She forces a smile. “Things have been good,” she says. It’s not a lie. Things were better before she found herself back in the story of Sid’s life.

“We’ll start easy,” Jen says. “What’s a story about Sid most people don’t know? You two were so close when he was younger.”

That’s also definitely not a lie. Margaret had tried to prepare herself for anything Jen might ask her, but Margaret still takes a moment to answer, wracking her memory for something to say.

Margaret and Sid had met in a bar, just before the 2009-2010 season started. That wasn’t a cute or wholesome story to tell. Margaret takes a deep breath.

“There was this time I dragged Sid to the animal shelter because I wanted a dog.”

“Maggie, I don’t need a dog,” Sid is saying, gamely allowing himself to be dragged towards the doors of Humane Animal Rescue.

Maggie stops and turns to face Sid, hands on her hips. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve still got Sam back home, I know. But I want a dog, so we’re here.”

She pulls open the door and lets Sid walk ahead of her inside. He nervously touches the brim of his hat and looks around. A smiling volunteer makes her way over to them.

“Hey guys, what can I help you with today?” she asks.

Maggie smiles back at her and takes Sid’s hand. “I’ve been thinking about adopting a dog,” she says.

“Perfect, we have plenty of those, hopefully one will be your perfect new friend,” the volunteer says, already turning and heading towards the kennels. She asks Maggie questions as they walk—what exactly she’s looking for, what her apartment is like, if she has any other pets— and Maggie is suddenly overwhelmed. Sid trails a few steps behind, only half listening. Maggie can hear the barking dogs before the volunteer even opens the door to their part of the shelter.

Maggie glances over her shoulder at Sid. “You sure you don’t want to adopt one, too?” she teases, noticing Sid’s soft smile, always a sucker for a cute face. “I’m sure we could find you a good match.” Sid just shakes his head at her.

The next hour is a blur of meeting dogs and Maggie trying not to fall in love with all of them. Sid ends up on the floor with her, happily cuddling and playing with each new dog that’s brought out to Maggie. In the end, she falls for a sweet Pit mix named Biscuit. Even Sid seems enthralled by her when she licks his face.

Maggie’s got Biscuit on a leash, and she’s following the volunteer back to the front desk to fill out all the paperwork for adoption when Sid stops short. Maggie stops, too. Sid’s standing next to a glass door labeled Kitten Room, watching a little boy play with a kitten. The little boy notices Sid watching and looks up. Margaret can tell the moment he recognizes Sid as Sidney Crosby by the way his face splits into a grin. He carefully sets the kitten down and runs to open the door.

“Do you wanna play with the kitties, too?” Maggie hears him ask. Sid glances at her. Biscuit, eager to make a new friend, whines and tugs on her leash. The kitten the boy had been playing with is attempting to make an escape.

Sid scoops the kitten up and edges carefully into the Kitten Room. “Of course, bud,” Maggie hears him say. To Maggie, he adds, “I’ll catch up with you, yeah?” The door shuts behind him before she can answer.

By the time Maggie’s finished with the pages and pages of adoption paperwork, Sid still hasn’t caught back up with her. She and Biscuit make their way back towards the Kitten Room to find him. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the little boy, and there’s a kitten climbing on his shoulder, trying to eat his hat, another one curled up in his hands. Maggie stands next to the glass door and watches them, a smile on her face. Next to her, Biscuit wags her tail at them. The little boy notices them and waves. Sid carefully hands the kitten in his hands to the little boy and disentangles the claws of the other one from his hat.

He’s grinning as he makes his way back to Maggie, easy and relaxed. He drapes his arm across her shoulders for a moment when comes through the door, and Maggie leans into his side.

“Have fun making some new friends?” she asks.

“He asked me if I could score a goal for him tomorrow night,” Sid says, laughing a little.

“Y’know, a cat would probably be a better pet for you, with all the travel and stuff,” Maggie says.

Sid digs his elbow into her ribs, but he kisses Maggie quickly against the car before opening the back door for Biscuit.

Margaret’s eyes were wet when she finished telling her story. She twists around in her seat to dry them before facing Jen again. It’s not even a sad story. She’d almost forgotten the memory altogether. It’s been a few years since Biscuit had passed now, but that sweet little dog had been Margaret’s anchor during the aftermath of their breakup. She should look into adopting another dog, Margaret thinks absently. Jen seems unfazed by, but not unsympathetic to, Margaret’s crying.

“And what do you want to say to Sid?” she asked.

Margaret had thought about this part, too. She remembered someone saying that Nathan MacKinnon’s message for Sid’s 100th game was too personal to show on the broadcast. She’d considered saying something vindictive, something petty. Her relationship with Sid had always been personal, and a part of Margaret wanted this last message to be just between them, too. But she worried that Jen would just scrap the footage if she said anything too cruel.

So Margaret settled for sincere, or as sincere as she could muster.

“Hi, Sid,” she starts awkwardly. “It was such a privilege to be by your side over the years, to be able to watch you grow into an amazing leader. To be there for the Olympics and for the Cups…it’s not something anyone is going to forget. I know it wasn’t easy to get this far, but you did it and you’re still going. I’m proud of you, Sid,” Margaret says. She takes a deep breath.

There is silence in the room when Margaret finishes speaking. She clears her throat. “Right, is that all, then?” she asks, already standing up. The small room they were in suddenly feels claustrophobic, and Margaret needs out.

Jen stands with her. “It’s perfect, thanks so much for coming in. I’m sure it wasn’t easy…” she says. Margaret wonders, again, how many details of their breakup Jen actually knows.

Margaret was already opening the door and rushing back into the hallway. She didn’t stop to check if the hallway was clear first, which is how she bumps straight into someone walking down the hall.

“Oof,” she hears, from a voice that was once as familiar as her own. A hand reaches out to steady her elbow. Sid hasn’t seen Margaret’s face yet.

“No, it’s okay, it was my fault,” she says, carefully not looking up at Sid. She pulls her purse strap back up and tries to edge around Sid before he recognizes her.

“Maggie?” Sid asks

Margaret freezes. Sid’s still gripping her elbow tightly. “Margaret,” she says.

“What?” “It’s Margaret. No one really calls me Maggie any more,” she tells him. Sid’s grip tightens even more for a moment before he drops his hand back to his side.

Margaret stops peering down the hall behind him and chances a look at his face. Sid’s jaw is tight, and he’s looking at Margaret like he can’t believe he’s actually seeing her. A member of team staff walks past behind Sid— Tags, Margaret is pretty sure— and pats Sid on the back as he goes past. Sid startles a little.

Sid takes Margaret’s arm again, and she lets herself be led into an empty room a few steps down the hall. Sid pushes the door mostly shut behind them.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come out,” Sid admits.

“I was told there wouldn’t be any players here,” Margaret counters. Sid winces, and it’s satisfying to see, briefly.

“Maggie,” Sid starts, but he doesn’t finish his sentence. He’s still staring at Margaret like he doesn’t believe she’s real.

“Stop calling me that,” Margaret says. She’s drained after sitting in front of that camera for Sid, and she doesn’t have the patience, suddenly, for whatever Sid’s about to say next. “Look, I should just go,” she says. “I should’ve never even come in the first place.” She finally wrenches her arm free from Sid’s grip.

Sid blinks at Margaret, confused. “I just thought-” he says, but, again, he doesn’t finish his sentence. “Well, uh, thanks, I guess,” Sid says, taking a step back. “It means a lot, I know it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Margaret says. “Yeah, well, I guess now we can go back to pretending the other of us doesn’t exist.” She moves to brush past Sid and out the door.

“Wait,” Sid says. He reaches to grab Margaret again, but thinks better of it. He shuts the door all the way. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean? You made it very clear you didn’t want anything to do with me when you broke up with me. We went our separate ways, and I did my best to forget I was ever in love with you,” Margaret says. She makes a move to push past Sid again, but Sid stops her with an arm around her waist. Margaret spins back to face Sid, now boxed in against the closed door.

“Everything was happening so fast, I didn’t know what to do,” Sid tries, talking fast like he can keep Margaret from leaving by sheer force of will.

“So fast? Sid, we’d been together for almost seven years, when all of a sudden you broke up with me instead of giving me a ring!”

“Exactly! You wanted a ring, and I wasn’t ready for that,” Sid argues. “It was just-”

“Just so overwhelming you couldn’t even talk about it? Fuck, all I got was a ‘I want to breakup,’ and then we never spoke again.” Margaret didn’t think she had it in her to be angry about this after so many years, but Sid standing so close to her was bringing out all sorts of emotions. Fury, longing, heartbreak.

Sid makes a frustrated noise. “You’re the one who cut me out of your life!”

Margaret feels like she could scream. “You broke up with me, what the hell else was I supposed to do?” she says, trying to keep her voice level. She isn’t sure if she’s going to scream or break down crying.

“I just needed space! I needed time to figure out where we were headed,” Sid says.

Margaret opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, Sid’s mouth is on hers, kissing her fiercely. She lets herself melt into it for a second—the way Sid’s lips slide against hers, once so familiar, her back pressed against the door, Sid’s hands on her body, one clutching her hip and the other resting on her cheek—before she comes to her senses and pushes Sid away. Sid goes, breathing raggedly and looking stunned.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Margaret asks. Her hand is on the doorknob.

“I- I don’t know,” Sid says honestly. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

Margaret should leave. She knows she should leave. She can’t help but ask, “Which part?”

Sid makes a face at her. Margaret hates the fondness she feels for that damn nose scrunch. “All of it. Everything. I’m sorry,” he says again.

They’re both quiet for a long time. There’s footsteps down the hall. “I should go,” Margaret finally says.

This time, Sid doesn’t stop her. Margaret pulls the door open and steps back into the hall. She looks back over her shoulder. Sid hasn’t moved.

“Goodbye, Sid,” she says softly.

She doesn’t pass anyone else as she makes her way back to her car. She drives home in silence. She doesn’t ever hear from Sid again. It’s probably for the best that way.

A few weeks later, Margaret gets a text from Jen. The game’s tonight, it reads. Margaret still hasn’t decided if she’s going to watch the game or not. She hasn’t seen a Penguins game since they won the Cup in 2017, hasn’t watched one on TV in even longer.

She turns on her TV.

1250 games isn’t nearly as big of a milestone as 1000 games was, but they’ll still be showing some of the pre-recorded clips throughout the game, mixed in with highlights of Sid over the years, or so Potash is saying when Margaret finds the right channel. There’s no pregame ceremony, just Sid blushing when the PA acknowledges the milestone before puck drop. It’s easy to fall back into the rhythm of watching hockey, though Margaret has to keep the roster pulled up on her phone to keep track of who’s who. The team is very different than she remembers, only a handful of players left who’d remember her.

They play Margaret’s video clip just before the end of the second period. The words underneath her name simply describe her as “friend of Sid’s” which is a bit of a stretch. “Sid’s ex-girlfriend” would certainly have been funnier. She mutes the TV; she already knows what she said, doesn’t need to hear it again. They’ve interspersed the clip with pictures of Margaret and Sid, some she’d even forgotten existed— Margaret and Biscuit and Sid with his dog Sam one summer, one a teammate had taken of them in a rare moment of PDA with Sid’s hips pressing Margaret into a wall in a hall at PPG, Margaret’s arms wound tightly around his neck, and the last one is one from Sid’s day with the Cup in 2017. She remembers that picture being taken, poking fun at Sid’s sunburn to get him to give the camera a real smile. The memory is bittersweet now. Margaret wonders which poor intern had to dig those up, or if Sid had offered them up himself.

“I’m proud of you,” on-screen Margaret is saying.

Margaret clicks the TV off. She stands up, stretches. Sid’s letter hasn’t moved from its place of honor on the floor behind the couch. Margaret fishes it out before heading into the kitchen. She smooths it out on the counter. The words are familiar, imprinted on Margaret’s memory. She rereads it anyway, then again. She misses Sid fiercely, all of a sudden, something in her chest aching at the thought. She stares at the letter without really seeing it, Sid’s thin, careful handwriting blurring together until the letters are indistinguishable.

With a sigh, Margaret crumples the letter back up and throws it in the trash.

She pours a glass of red wine and starts over on putting Sidney Crosby out of her mind forever.

#cait writes things #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby imagine #pittsburgh penguins fic #pittsburgh penguins imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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bluestar22x · 26 days

Text

Never Forgotten

Summary: Light pink carnations represent love and gratitude, appreciation of a mother, and never forgetting someone. That's why Marcus gifts them to both his wives on Mother's Day.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x OFC!Elena (Current Wife), Marcus Moreno x OFC!Reina (Past Wife)

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 2,800(ish)

Warnings: Romance, sexual tension, flashbacks, pregnancy, family life, mentions of cancer, sickness, death, mourning, angst, love, joy - it's a rollercoaster

Author’s Note: This takes place in my Second Chances verse, but you do not need to read the series to enjoy this! This was created for the Moth and Birdie's Mother's Day Fic Challenge by @mothandpidgeon and @ezrasbirdie. Went with something both sweet and angsty, but true to Mother's Day.

xxx

"Mommy, mommy get up!"

An excited young voice drew you from a peaceful night's sleep, leaving you drowsy and a bit mopey about not being able to wake up on your own terms that morning. It was rare you had a day off where you could do so. You had thought on Mother's Day you'd have a better chance.

Still, you smiled when your three and a half year old son (almost four, he insisted) ran into your view, looking as lively as ever.

"Morning, Teo," you mumbled at him.

"Morning, mommy," he greeted you back, beaming. "We have a present for you!"

"Oh? You do?" You and your husband Marcus had decided last year that outside of Christmas presents weren't really going to be a part of your holidays anymore, so you were curious what was in store for you.

Teo nodded at you enthusiastically. "Yeah! Daddy sent me up here to get you!"

"Well," you said as you sat up in bed and rubbed your eyes, "Tell daddy I'll be down in a minute. I've got to brush my teeth first."

And use the bathroom, but that was a given.

"Okay!" And just like that the young boy with wild curls left your room, flying off like superman, whose image was printed many times over on his cotton pajamas.

You made your way after him as soon as you could, having smelled your "present" before you even made it out of the master bedroom.

Marcus was making breakfast, and the kids were helping out, you could only assume. Knowing them, Teo probably came up with the idea, and Missy probably insisted Marcus not do it on his own. She knew very well how easily distracted he could get sometimes.

"Smells like burnt eggs," you joked as you strolled into the kitchen, stopping to pet Ginger, your Chihuahua, who was laying on her side on the bare floor, basking in the warmth of the morning sun.

"Not on my watch," Missy told you from her position by the stove, alongside Marcus.

"Hey," he protested. "I can and have cooked eggs just fine on my own!"

"So long as the TV's not on," you added, grinning. "So this is my present? Breakfast?"

"Brunch," Marcus corrected you as he shut off the stove top burner he'd been using. "It's ten-thirty, honey."

"I slept that long?" You gaped. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

"Part of your gift," Missy said, nodding towards the table. "We're also going out for supper. You're not allowed to cook today."

"Sounds good to me," you told her, going to sit at the kitchen table with Teo, who was already chowing down on a syrup covered pancake. "Can I steal a piece?"

"Of course mommy," he answered, pushing his plate towards you more willingly than you'd expected. The kid loved his food. "It's your special day."

"Just testing you," you declared, winking as you plopped a fresh pancake from the stack in the middle of the table onto the plate in front of you. "I can take my own."

Marcus and Missy placed more food on the table, eggs and bacon and breakfast potatoes as you poured a ton of syrup on yours, more than even Teo liked. You preferred your pancakes drowned in it.

As they both sat down with you and Teo, you took a moment to sniff the large bouquet of light pink carnations that were in a thin dark green vase in front of your spot at the table. "Mmm, these smell lovely."

Marcus smiled. "I'm glad you like them. Happy Mother's Day, Elena."

You covered his hand with yours and grinned back. "Thanks for all of this. Though the flowers could technically be considered a gift."

"I get some for Reina every year," he reminded you. "Didn't feel right not to give some to you too when you're not getting anything else."

"Are you visiting her this afternoon?" you asked him quietly.

"On the way to the restaurant, after we visit mom," he confirmed, squeezing your fingers with his.

Reina had been Marcus' first wife. The original Mrs. Moreno. She had passed away years before you'd even met Missy in the school library. You'd encouraged Marcus to keep up the tradition he had of visiting her grave around Christmas, her birthday, and Mother's Day, along with Missy, even when things got hectic.

Sometimes you hung back, giving them their privacy, other times you joined them in solemn silence.

You didn't know Reina outside pictures, stories Missy retold of her mother, mentions Marcus made of her, but you felt a kind of connection to her through them. A comradery of sorts, having both shared your lives with them.

There had never been a time where you'd even considered being jealous of her ghost. You knew Marcus loved you both, equally and differently at the same time, neither able to replace the other. And you were grateful to her even, after all, you wouldn't have Missy in your life if she'd never given birth to her. You couldn't imagine what the last five years or so of your life would've looked like if Reina had never existed.

A coworker had once asked you if you could bring Reina back if you would do it, and you'd said of course without hesitation. Even though it was a loaded question, the answer was easy because you knew how much Marcus and Missy still mourned her, and you'd have loved to meet her. You wouldn't let fear or insecurity make you selfish. You refused to have them, and you loved your family too much for that.

"Dig in before the eggs get cold," Missy warned, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You nodded and reached for the pan of scrambled eggs that was thoroughly mixed with herbs which made them look more tempting than ever. "They look perfect, Missy."

She shrugged. "I've gotten a lot of practice in college."

Though Missy was currently living in a dorm most days, she got cooking experience through the cafeteria job she'd picked up on campus at the tail end of the previous semester.

You took a good share of the eggs, though you made sure to leave enough for the rest of your family and shoved a mouthful into your mouth with your fork.

You closed your eyes and hummed at the delectable taste of them. "Holy...cow Missy. These are amazing! That's not standard for a college campus."

"I mix it up when they let me."

"I'll try not to take offense that you've never said that when I cook," Marcus teased.

"You have plenty of other talents," you assured him.

Some of which would be very inappropriate to mention here, you thought.

The way he grinned at you after, you were certain his mind had gone there too.

Later. Definitely later. Once you had privacy and the kids weren't likely to interrupt.

For now you were going to enjoy the family you both had cultivated together.

Visiting Reina's grave never really got easier for Marcus, but this visit was one of the hardest in a long time, even with Missy by his side and you and Teo waiting in the car.

This particular Mother's Day marked ten years of the holiday without Reina's presence. It meant Missy was well into having spent most of her life without her mother around.

That thought pained Marcus deeply as he set the flowers in his hands, ones identical to the batch he'd given you earlier, up against her headstone.

When he backed away a couple feet Missy stepped forward and kissed a couple of her fingers before pressing them against the top of the gray granite. "Miss you, mom."

Marcus felt his heart plummet at her soft, solemn words. For the first time in years tears threatened to surface.

No words were able to form on his lips, none he could think of seemed appropriate, so he thought about Reina instead.

He'd been training in the Heroics gym shirtless when they first met. She walked in all professional in a pencil skirt and white blouse, long dark hair pulled back in the tightest possible ponytail, not even batting an eye at the sight of his young sweaty form pounding on the punching bag before him.

"Mrs. Moreno wants to see you," she'd stated plainly.

"Hey," he'd greeted her, halting his activities and wiping the sweat off his forehead with a nearby towel. "Are you the new secretary?"

"Yeah, I am," she replied, pausing, "Sorry, it was rude of me not to introduce myself first. I'm Reina."

Marcus stuck out his right hand and she shook it. "Nice to meet you, Reina. I'm Marcus."

"I know," she said, "Your reputation proceeds you. Top of your Heroics class and your mother told me you're aiming for leadership someday."

He frowned. "She did now, huh?" His mother had been suggesting he take her place from the start of his training to be a Heroic. She claimed he would be a great leader, but he still wasn't convinced after a decade of hearing it.

Reina must have heard the change of tone in his voice. "Is it not true?"

"It's an option," he told her. "I'm just not sure I'd be good at it. If I even want to be the leader."

She nodded. "It's not an easy choice."

"Speaking from experience?"

She shook her head yes. "My father's a lawyer. He was expecting me to lead his legal team someday. Instead I moved away from the countryside, to the city to be a little ol' secretary."

"You like the job?" Marcus asked.

She smiled, and it suddenly occurred to him that it just might be the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. "Yeah. Your mother is nice to work for. Honest, brutally sometimes, but not mean. And I like the idea of helping you Heroics do your job, since I don't have powers myself."

"You don't need to be powered to be a Heroic," Marcus informed her. "Yes, the team's all powered at the moment, but there are no rules against non-powered people from joining."

"I'm more of a behind the scenes person," she said.

"I can respect that. We need people like you. You and the other secretaries are the backbone of this team."

She looked surprised. "You really think so?"

"We couldn't do our job without you," he added.

She smiled again, and he felt something akin to his stomach flipping witnessing it. "Thanks, Marcus. It's nice to hear. Can I tell Mrs. Moreno you're on your way?"

"Yeah," he said. "Is it an emergency, or can I shower first?"

"No emergency," Reina answered. "I'll tell her you'll be up in ten."

Marcus nodded. "Yeah, I'll be ready by then."

"Perfect," she said with a nod before spinning away on her six inch heels.

He watched her go, fully realizing he was interested in her, beyond pure physical attraction, but having no idea if they'd have a shot together.

Her looking back at him just as she opened the door to leave the gym space gave him hope.

"How was today?" Marcus inquired as he walked over to Reina, who was standing on their apartment balcony, apparently waiting for him to come home from work.

He banded his arms around her from behind and leaned down to press a light kiss to her jaw as his hands found the underneath of the expansive mound at her waist.

"Your daughter has been moving almost constantly all day," she told him, splaying a hand over his, the same one that bore the rings he'd given her the previous year. "And she insists on kicking my ribs at the worst possible times," she added with a hint of exasperation.

"Be nice to your mama, baby," he said sternly to his unborn child as she shifted under his palms.

Or he tried to at least.

Reina chuckled. "Guess I'll be the one disciplining her. Not that I'm surprised."

"You calling me soft?" Marcus asked with mock upset.

She turned in his arms to face him. "You are going to be like putty with her."

"Now, that's going too far."

She grinned at him, brown eyes bright and lively, and curled her arms around his neck so she could guide his head down to her lips for a warm kiss.

"I haven't been wrong about you so far," she whispered after, lips quirking upward.

He couldn't argue with that.

She looked as beautiful as ever, skating alongside little seven-year-old Missy, holding her hand gently and giggling as they both tried to keep themselves from falling over on the rough surface of the frozen lake.

Her hair hadn't grown back in well, so she was wearing a wig but it looked normal enough, she looked normal enough that Marcus could enjoy the moment, soak in the sight of Reina enjoying the sunny winter day with her daughter, despite it being as bitter cold as it was.

Watching her, watching them that day, Marcus had a hard time comprehending that his wife was dying right in front of him and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

For months he'd been at her side, every step of the way, holding her hand, her hair, as she suffered through radiation and chemo and a mastectomy, all in hope that it would cure her illness.

All of it had been for naught, her doctor having told her last month that they had no more options, that the cancer had spread to a whole slew of different places in her body, including her brain.

She could've continued chemo to prolong her life a little longer, but Reina had decided to choose quality over quantity. She hadn't wanted to live out her final days feeling as sick as chemo made her, so she stopped going to get treatments.

Marcus could only respect her wishes. He knew he would want the same put in her position, and a day like this was worth a lot more than a hundred of her lying in bed hardly able to move or clinging to the toilet bowl.

She caught him watching and they shared beaming smiles, hers natural, his a bit more forced, but it was still wonderful.

Going to the mountain lake for one last family trip had been her idea, and as per usual she'd been right.

They'd all needed it, and that was the memory Marcus had clung to most the week, the month, the year after her death.

That last truly good memory always made him smile through the tears.

And as he often did, he made a silent promise never to forget it that particular Mother's Day. To never forget her, as she was meant to be.

It was ten minutes before Marcus and Missy joined you and Teo in the car again, as usual more subdued than when they'd left it.

Missy buckled herself back into the seat next to Teo's as you rested a hand on Marcus' cheek, rubbing a thumb over it comfortingly. You could still see the lingering grief in his eyes, freshened by the visit to Reina's grave.

"You okay?"

He grabbed your hand and kissed the top of it, his love for you surging. "With you, always."

He slowly let go of your hand so you could rest it on your lap and you smiled softly. You had no doubt of how important you were to him, but it was still the best feeling to hear it.

He poured it into an intimate kiss you shared later on, after you got back home and the kids raced into the house together, anxious to rewatch a movie they both enjoyed together in Missy's old bedroom.

"You are the best wife I could've ever asked for," he told you, his mouth hovering just over yours, his hands on your hips. "Certainly the best mother."

"Just like Reina," you said, without a tinge of insecurity to it.

"I've been so damn lucky," he murmured, bumping his nose against yours, the edges of your glasses also hitting. "I got to share some of my life with her, and now I get to spend the rest of it with you. Two amazing women who gave me two wonderful kids. I'm beyond grateful."

"How much so?" you inquired, a playfulness to your words. Your hands traveled from his shoulders to his soft stomach, just above the waistline of his pants, fingers grazing the top of his belt buckle.

He hummed with peaking interest as he observed their new, tantalizing placement. "Way beyond."

You grinned widely at him. "Wanna take a shower with me?"

"Have I ever said no?"

You chuckled at that and guided him anxiously into the house to sneak past Missy's bedroom.

The sun may have set, but as far as you were concerned, your Mother's Day celebration was hardly near its end.

And you had a feeling it would be one of those nights not to be forgotten.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#We Can Be Heroes #MothandBirdMothersDayChallenge #Marcus Moreno Fanfic (Mine)#WCBH Fanfic #Pedro Pascal Character Fanfic #OC Fanfic #Fanfiction #Mine #Second Chances Series #Queue Me

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sxugaryx · 7 months

Text

A (not so) welcoming winter (Fanfic)

A new chapter of my main series <3

It was finally December, soon the start of many festivities, Pinocchio was given a brief explanation of what Christmas is and the new year celebration, it was during last December that Krat was still in crisis, around that time was when the hotel was attacked and his father was kidnapped, there was no time for celebrating back then.

In previous years at Hotel Krat, on the first Saturday of December, an event was held to celebrate, getting invited to the party was something special, the most elite of Krat being the ones to attend, Venigni and Geppetto had always been invited to attend, this year Eugéne would be invited as well, not only because she was friends with Antonia but her skills had earned her a great reputation. Pinocchio was obviously invited, alongside Gemini, at first, Pinocchio was shy about attending, he didn’t really think he would fit in with all those people, Eugéne reassured him to just be himself, she had never attended a party like that before, “It’s a bit exiting don’t you think? I’m sure you’ll do great, you are a very kind boy Pinocchio” it’s what she said.

The party was held at night, so they had plenty of time to get ready, Geppetto had bought Pinocchio special clothes for the occasion, “and don’t ruin these ones” Pinocchio just rolled his eyes. On their way to the hotel, Pinocchio still felt a little nervous, his father reassured him that nothing bad would happen, “Just stay by my side, stay by the side of anyone you know, you don’t have to be with me all the time, I’m sure Antonia would love it if you spent plenty of time with her”

They arrived early, yet a good amount of guests were already there, and even more had arrived by the time it started, Antonia was there at the front, alongside Polendina greeting everyone, “I’m so glad to see you here my boy” she said as she gave him a kiss on the forehead, at that time Pinocchio couldn’t stay by her side, she had to finish greeting the guest, an hour after the event started is when she was available to talk with others, Pinocchio stayed next to his father, Geppetto had gotten closer to some of the people he had worked with in the past, extending the typical pleasantries, Pinocchio was always too anxious when it came to greetings, so Geppetto had decided to introduce his son on his behalf.

“This is my son Pinocchio, I’m sure you’ve heard about him before” Pinocchio was just behind his father, almost as if using him as a shield, he might have been getting better at talking with others but the special occasion made him nervous, he wasn’t just interacting with everyday people, the guests had special reputations.

“Of course we have Geppetto, you never shut up about him,” one of the men said, “Your father is very proud of you young man”

That made Pinocchio smile, he was starting to calm his nerves.

“My little Pinocchio is such a good boy” he paused and smiled “Most of the time, you see he has the bad habit of-“

Pinocchio got red in the face, “Father, don’t tell them that!” Geppetto laughed, oh how he had been waiting for the opportunity to tease him like that. All parents must make their children a little embarrassed from time to time.

Very soon the conversation became about business, when talking about the project, they were mentioning some sort of prototype of a device that could help heat up things, without the assistance of a person handling it, as to avoid the usual harm that it came when handling heat.

“Tell me, what’s the hottest thing you can think of?” One of the men asked them.

Pinocchio quickly replied, “Oh I once went to Venigni Works, lots of hot things in there”

Geppetto on the other hand, thought of his late wife, but that wasn’t something appropriate to say, so instead he agreed with his son on the matter. Some time went by, and Geppetto could tell Pinocchio wanted to see the others, so he gave him a signal for the okay to go somewhere else, after all the conversation was going mostly on the side of business rather than typical chit chat.

Next, he wanted to check on Eugéne, but when he got closer, she was at a table talking with a man and a woman, they seemed to be experts in the field of weapons as well, Pinocchio could tell that the conversation was intense, all of them had a lot of passion when talking. Pinocchio decided to catch up with her later, and that’s when he realized his mother was no longer occupied at the entrance, she was speaking with a group of women, some on the older side like her, while others on the younger side, they all flocked around Antonia, talking about their daily lives and mundane matters, Polendina was there but he was quiet, letting the other speak, Pinocchio got closer and when Antonia noticed him, she called out for him, insisting she sat by her side, just like his father did, Antonia introduced Pinocchio to the group.

“Oh so you are Geppetto’s son? How handsome you are! Why I could give you a kiss right now!” A young lady said to him.

“Um, thank you” Pinocchio replied.

Suddenly he felt an angry aura inside of him, that must be Sophia, sometimes he could feel what she was feeling and vice versa, they could communicate with each other, the best way to describe it was telepathically, but it wasn’t quite like that.

“Sophia, is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, don’t worry, I was just… a little annoyed at something, that’s all”

Pinocchio took her word for it, and he felt the aura disappear; Gemini knew Pinocchio too well and had realized what had happened when he stayed quiet, although he was a bit surprised, he didn’t think Sophia was the jealous type. Gemini had the mental image of an angry blue butterfly attacking the young girl, he had to contain his laughter.

Pinocchio mostly listened to the conversation, every time his mother would talk about something, they all would agree with everything she said, and he found it a bit strange. He didn’t participate much in the conversation, but he could tell that his mother was happy to have him by her side.

An older woman began to change her tone, wanting to head the conversation in a different direction, “By the way, have you girls heard? Mrs, Elanor is having an affair”

A few women gasped, followed by words like “Are you serious” and “No way” but it was said strangely, not as if they were actually shocked to hear it, but more as if, they were excited to hear something like that.

Antonia, gently stoked Pinocchio’s hair, “My dear boy, why don’t you go and talk with Venigni? I’m sure he would love to see you”

Pinocchio followed her advice, he wanted to see Venigni, and Antonia didn’t want him to hear tasteless gossip like that.

It wasn’t hard to find Venigni, his voice was very recognizable, Pulcinella was there too, standing by Venigni’s side, although he was as quiet as Polendina was.

Much like before, while sitting down with him, Pinocchio noticed people would agree with everything Venigni would say, it was so weird for him, sure, Pinocchio would love to hear Venigni talk, but he could tell that some of the people there actually didn’t like to hear him talk, in fact by some of their faces, it seemed some people didn’t even like Venigni at all. He felt uncomfortable about it, he wanted to stay with Venigni but the whole ordeal made him feel weird about it. He excused himself from the table, he went outside to the garden to clear his head, in there, she found Eugéne taking a break as well.

“Pinocchio, taking a break from all that talking as well?” She smiled at him, also a bit overwhelmed about the situation.

“Yeah, it’s a bit too much”

“I’ve never been in a room with so many people before, but at least I had that very pleasant conversation about weapon craftsmanship, it was so intense, most of my time was spent talking about that”

“I’m glad to hear that” Pinocchio smiled at her.

“Meow”

Pinocchio looked the the ground, Spring had hid themselves in the garden, clearly not being able to be inside. The cat purred and rubbed themselves in Pinocchio’s feet, Pinocchio picked her up and started to cuddle her, Eugéne gave the kitty a few pats on the head as well. After some time, Pinocchio gently put Spring back down, and it went on its merry way, probably to find a place to sleep.

“Pinocchio your shirt is covered in cat fur now” Gemini scolded him.

“It’s alright don’t worry, I’ll help you get it off” Eugéne helped him shake his shirt, thankfully they got it off easily, usually cats' fur tends to stick in clothing.

“Instead of heading back, how about we talk, for just a little bit more?” Eugéne thought it was best to have a few more moments with each other.

Inside, guests had begun to spread gossip, it’s no surprise that plenty of those who are considered part of the elite, would have snobbish views and look down on others, not all guests were participating in it, but the harshest voices tended to be the last ones.

“What is Geppetto thinking bringing his puppet in here? Does he think playing pretend would replace his son?”

“Did he really help find a cure for the petrification disease? I find that hard to believe, he looks so clueless about everything”

“First Venigni first brings his stupid puppet everywhere and now he brings another? It’s because no one can else actually stand him I bet”

“I get that Antonia is grateful that the thing saved her life, but she didn't have to invite it into our conversation”

The others ignored those words, Venigni, Antonia, and Geppetto were used to insults and assumptions about others. As soon as Pinocchio stepped back inside with Eugéne, the gossip stopped, it always happens that way, those who gossip and judge others like that don’t have the guts to actually say those words in front of the one they are insulting.

Hours passed, and the party had ended, it was late at night, and all the other guests had left, now they could all have a pleasant chat together, even if not for long, as they needed to head back home.

Yet they could tell something was troubling Pinocchio, “Is something wrong buddy? What’s on your mind?” Gemini was the one to ask.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said at first, but then thought about it for a few seconds, “Um well, people were acting kind of, weird? I don’t know, sorta like-“ but Pinocchio couldn’t exactly describe it.

“Like they were trying to get on our good side,” Venigni said, he already knew what he was thinking.

“Son, sometimes, there are people that don’t like you, but they try to get on your good side just because they want something out of you, or because they want the status that comes about of being associated with you” Geppetto explained to him.

“But, why do things like that matter? Should others be friends with others because they like each other?” Pinocchio was genuinely confused, he didn’t get why someone would be that way, sure, he understood that even if you don’t like someone and they are rude, you still don’t have to stoop to their level, but he didn’t understand this.

“There are a lot of sycophants out there my boy” It was Antonia’s time to speak.

“Syco what?”

“Sycophants, people like that are up to no good, but when it comes to dealing with matters of high status, you’ll have to constantly deal with them” Antonia always knew what to say.

“It’s best to ignore such rude comments, they are the ones that end up looking bad in the end” Venigni spoke up this time, “Mind you if someone is saying harmful things about you, things that aren't true and others start to believe them, don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself”

Pinocchio nodded along

“You always know who your true friends are, besides when try to constantly appease you like that, it becomes quite obvious” Eugéne was now the one talking, everyone wanted to help Pinocchio to understand better.

“Meow”

The cat was back again, happier now that all the other guests were gone.

“Kitty!” Pinocchio quickly picked him up again, the cat was purring, happy to receive cuddles again.

Pinocchio felt a warm aura in his heart.

“Make sure to give her lots of cuddles for me” Sophia spoke to him, she loved to see how Pinocchio would smile at the simplest of things, how happy he was about the world around him, how eager he was to learn about everything it could offer.

Pinocchio laid Spring back down and started to belly rub her, “these are on Sophia’s behalf,” he said to the cat while smiling.

“Miss Sophia’s behalf?” Polendina asked.

“Yeah, I can talk to her, sort of” Pinocchio wasn’t sure how to explain how it worked, he didn’t know how it worked, Sophia even confessed to him that she didn’t exactly know how it worked, just that it had something to do with the Ergo they shared. It's not as if they can talk all the time, or feel what the other is feeling all the time, it has its moments, and Pinocchio was glad he could share this day with her.

“Please, tell her we all miss her and wish her the best” Pulcinella had been very quiet until now, even Polendina made small talk when regarding Antonia, they were both not the most talkative, but Pulcinella was even quieter, most of the time he spoke it was directly at Venigni, he was more of a listener, and Venigni sure needs someone to always listen to him, but Pulcinella doesn't mind, he loves hearing him speak after all; “and hopefully to see her again once more”

“Why yes, Miss Sophia always has a place here in the hotel, should she ever decide to come back” Polendina chimed in again.

The aura disappeared again, Pinocchio could tell that the moment was bittersweet to Sophia, but thankfully more sweet than bitter.

“A long-distance girlfriend, you must be really happy about that right buddy?” Gemini tried to tease Pinocchio.

“Yes! It’s so cool to talk with Sophia from so far, I wish everyone could talk like that with their friends! I bet everyone would be so happy”

…

All were quiet for a moment, Polendina and Pulcinella looked at each other as if telling each other “Maybe someone should really tell him” but they figured out their friend would figure it out eventually.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Geppetto gave him a faint smile, “No, son, it’s just getting really late, we should head back home”

#lies of p #lop #liesofp #lies of p game #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p geppetto #lies of p antonia #lies of p pulcinella #lies of p polendina #lies of p venigni #lies of p eugene #lies of p sophia #lies of p fanfic #this is in ao3 too #ao3 link

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