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boytouya · 3 years

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𝘼 𝘽𝙤𝙮 𝙄𝙨 𝘼 𝙂𝙪𝙣*

words: 1.2k

request: ‘Hey!! I hope requests are still open but 👉👈 I was wondering if I could request a Megumi x Male!Reader fic where the reader has a secret crush on him, but yuuji or nobara find out on accident and try and get the reader to just 'ask him out already' (this idea been living in my head rent free all day) Also! could I be the 🍰 anon?’

a/n: i don’t know if you’re the same anon who already asked to be the 🍰 emoji but if not i’m so sorry! i can add something before or after the cake if you’d like(:

warnings: None!

You were not in love. Megumi was not the first thing you thought of when you woke up. He certainly didn’t have your brain delaying three seconds behind your mouth. You didn’t misspeak around him once. Not once had his long, naturally curled eyelashes coke across your mind. The way he’d furrow his eyebrows and form a gentle crease in his forehead? All news to you. Simply because you didn’t like him.

You didn’t know his patterns because you liked him. You knew because he was always there. Always in your life, whether he’s lugging behind Nobara and Yuuji or heading off to bed in all black pajamas. He was a constant in your life, and perhaps one of the most stable things in it. But that didn’t mean you liked him, per say.

A better word would be admire.

Yes, that’s right. You admired his bravery and strength, just as you admired his facial features from afar. Though he was still young, Megumi acted much more mature than his peers. He’d have moments where excitement would seep through the cracks, he’d smile ever so slightly and the glossiness of his bottom lip would catch sunlight through green trees. You admired him as if he were a painting. You could look, but you could never touch. You didn’t like him, but holding his hand didn’t sound so bad.

He embodied Atlas in himself, holding up his world with tired arms and straining muscles. It was clear he deserved better than what he had gotten, but he wouldn’t really be himself if it weren’t for Gojo. Mentally, you thank him for that. You thank him for holding the Earth when Megumi wears too thin to do it himself. Their balance is equal, truthfully you’re a bit envious. Not because you like him, but because you want to help.

You want to help in the way Yuuji does, like when he laughs straight into Megumi’s ear and takes photos to remember the moment. The room grows noticeably brighter, and although Megumi is one of the darker characters in the room, he carries the Sun on his back. Perhaps instead of Earth he’s lifting Yuuji and Nobara, who seem to revolve around him. It doesn’t strike you with jealousy, it smites you with longing. You yearn to be as close as them. Not because you like him.

“You like Megumi?!” Yuuji shouts, raising his hands into the air as he lifts himself from his seat. Leaves fall along the pavement of the train station, sticking to the base of his shoes. People in Japan are quite good at minding their business, but it doesn’t stop a few subtle glares in his direction. The train has just enough walking space, Lunch Rush has just finished so less people were making their way inside. The open space doesn’t stop him from smacking his hand against the railing though. He hisses, shaking his hand and turning to Nobara before whispering, “I knew it! You owe me!”

Unfortunately, Megumi couldn’t join you on your expedition to Sendai. You still wanted to buy him something, just so he wouldn’t feel left out. That was all. You swear, that was all. You had no idea how he found out, you just have murmured something that his scary accurate ears picked up.

Nobara makes a sour face, shaking her head, “Fushiguro? Say something to him!” Her hair follows in her movement, disrupting its usual tighty space atop her head. You can’t tell if it’s directed toward you or Yuuji, but surely she wouldn’t advise you against dating someone she’s so close to? Not that you wanted to date him.

“I don’t like him!” You make an ‘x’ with your arms, and although your face is twisted into something that resembles grumpiness, your voice doesn’t sound like it at all. You’re clearly lying, and the raise in pitch at the end of your voice gives it away. You noticeably deflate, your lips resting into a straight line. “...I don’t even know if he likes guys.”

Yuuji goes quiet, leaning forward in his chair with his chin tucked between his thumb and four fingers. He’s lost in thought, mimicking Nobara’s pensive expression until a lightbulb pops in his head.

“That’s not true! You just gotta ask. Buy him something that’ll really ‘whoo’ him.” He grins, as though that was an option buried under layers of cement. You shake your head, watching Nobara stand from her seat and grip the hand rest above your heads. She looks down at you with an uncomfortably scary look of determination.

“Cheer up. Everything will work out since I’m here,” The train stops, and Yuuji jumps to his feet with an enthusiastic nod. It was your stop. “Let’s get sushi first.”

…

It would be an understatement to say they went overboard. Their advances were… compassionate, to say the least. The only problem was returning back with mountains of bears, sweets, carryout boxes of sushi (Nobara’s idea) and flowers (Yuuji’s idea) without being noticed. It was noticeably loud, and the vibrant red chrysanthemums you had pressed into your hand were making quite the scene. You wondered if you’d have to give him the button to your uniform, with all this commotion.

Megumi shuffles toward the three of you, his eyebrows stuck together as he takes in the sight of..whatever it was you had in your hands. You managed to carry all of it, bending awkwardly to keep anything from falling. The lump in your throat only gets bigger as three sets of eyes look at you expectantly. What are you supposed to say? ‘Hey Megumi, I’ve had a crush on you since the first day we met! I don’t even know if you like men, but do you wanna be my boyfriend?’ The food you’d eaten earlier no longer sits comfortably in our stomach, instead it churns and threatens to rise up as bile. Your hands feel clammy, and if it weren’t for the variety of things in them you’d be wiping them down on your pants.

“Ask him out already!” Nobara pushes you forward, her eyes oddly starry as her palms meet your shoulder blades. You stumble forward, nearly smacking the entirety of your weight right onto your crush. It seems so much easier in the movies. A confession, a kiss, fireworks, and a happy ending. But movie kisses were fake, and you hoped if you got to kiss Megumi it’d be full of the most sincerity the world could offer.

“I-“

“I like you too.” Megumi says, his face completely relaxed. He stares straight into your eyes, trying to catch even a glimpse of wavering doubt. You stand your ground, but while half of you is stuck in his captivating gaze, the other half is still in shock. Megumi, of all people, likes you. He grabs the bouquet of chrysanthemums, twirling them around between his fingers. He could have very easily snapped them, thrown everything out of your hands and stomped on it. But he didn’t. He inspected everything carefully, and he looked the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him. He awkwardly places his hand on your shoulder, earning loud squeals from Nobara and Yuuji.

“I like your compassion, too.”

“What?!? That’s all you have to say?!”

#💕.megumi #megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi x male reader #megumi fluff #jjk x you #jjk x male reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi imagine #anime x you #anime x reader #anime x male reader

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votederpycausemufins · 3 years

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it seems like some people were disappointed that Tubbo and Sparklez haven’t realized who each other are yet, so in this chapter.... I taunt you even more by not letting it happen! bwahahahaha!

@petrichormeraki

Dream was only half paying attention as he worked. He really only replies with yes’s and no’s and nodding along. He was glad the mask hid his surprise when he found that not all the admin powers were there and even less of the Watcher’s influence. Ranboo hasn’t been given the powers directly, but the fact that they had initially been moved by Grian in the first place was enough.

Like an infection, the powers that were linked to Dream himself and not the role of an admin spread into the fragments of energy and magic the Watcher had left behind. It was supposed to act as a label warding off those who would want to mess with those a watcher had claimed in some form or another, but it was also something Dream could use.

He froze when he recognized parts of the energy, similar to signatures he had messed with before. Ranboo said something and he tried to play it off, but he could tell the new admin suspected something. Dream started actually focusing on the conversation until Ranboo no longer seemed suspicious.

Once again, Dream looked at the magic and realized it resembled that of Philza and his sons. That’s right, the watcher has said something about a third son that Philza lost, other than Wilbur and Tommy. It had rattled the hardcore player. And Philza was an avian just like Grian.

Dream started with something small. He might be trapped for now, but he could still do whatever he could to bring his favorite pawn back.

He paused to continue the conversation with Ranboo a bit longer before getting another idea. One wasn’t enough with him. Maybe with what little there was, he could still find a way to mess with the whole set. But before he could get far, Ranboo was starting to leave. It was fine. Two would be just enough.

Grian started feeling sick, he looked around and saw Tommy and Mumbo sleeping next to him, the bots curled up with each other in their own sleep mode. He tried moving in a way to not disturb them but his head spun. His vision went dark for a moment and the next thing he saw was the floor of his mansion getting closer. He was surprised he wasn’t dead from falling that far, everyone else was too. Everyone was trying to figure out what was going on.

Someone pointed it out. This had all started after his family showed up. Maybe it was their fault. But someone else said that it was just the freak out of losing Tommy. It was the war, one person shouted and then more joined in. They were letting people that made war join this server, this safe place. Who would be next? Xisuma wasn’t making it safe anymore. The new server was a problem and he was a problem.

All of Grian’s eyes started looking around, some of them peering into other places on the server. He just needed to find the admin and set things right. He was still dizzy, but Grian pushed himself to his feet, talons scraping on the ground. He dragged himself towards the front door and then flew into the air. The sky started darkening and thunder rumbled before purple magic swirled around him to help bring him to his destination.

Philza stumbled, putting a hand to his head. Wilbur caught him before he could fall. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t know.” Philza managed to get out, a wave of nausea hitting him. His wings felt heavy and they unfolded, now dragging on the ground. Wilbur cursed next to him and then started talking to someone. It sounded like it was probably Techno. Philza felt weak on his feet, but for a moment the rest of his strength returned. Something in his mind was screaming that he needed to get out of there.

Wilbur called out, trying to get Philza to stop as a raven flew away to escape dangers he couldn’t see.

Crumb jumped as thunder struck and she shifted to a more humanoid form, though her hair retailed her signature calico colors. “Dat was waaay too loud!”

“Yeah, I know. My friend Fundy gets scared by lightning a lot due to him being a hybrid. I’m not sure I could deal with sensitive ears like that.” Tubbo moved a hand towards some burn scars he had. It managed to go unnoticed by Crumb, but Sparklez.

“What happened?” He asked, making Tubbo realize what he was doing. “You don’t have to say if it’s a sore subject.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Tubbo looked down at their feet. “I just got trapped before some people killed me with firework rockets. But that was before. Instead of president, I’m Admin Tub-”

There was another sound of thunder as a bolt of lightning struck near them. Crumb and Tubbo both covered their ears while Sparklez shielded them. He blinked the spots out of his eyes, glad that his sunglasses helped with some of the blinding light. Where the lightning had struck stood a form. The captain assumed it would be a skeleton horse that spawned due to the storm, but it was much taller. Another bolt of lightning lit up the creature and Sparklez drew his sword. “What’s a harpy doing here?!”

“Harpy?” Tubbo asked before seeing the looming form of whatever was being referred to.

“A type of bird hybrid, though normally they’re smaller.. But either way, they shouldn’t be in this dimension.”

“They shouldn’t be in this dimension. Shouldn’t be in this dimension.” Sparklez’s voice echoed clearly.

“Oh my god, that’s not a fucking harpy!” Tubbo exclaimed as he started to fumble for his communicator. He needed to warn someone now.

“God, god, god!” the ‘harpy’ parroted back. Another bolt of lightning lit him up and Tubbo froze as Grian’s bright purple watcher eyes all looked down on the trio.

“We need to run!” Tubbo grabbed Sparklez and Crumb and started pulling them away. Their communicator ended up on the ground in the scramble to run and a taloned foot stepped on it, breaking it into pieces.

Tommy was stirred by his sleep from his communicator buzzing followed by rumbling thunder. He yawned with a small shiver and looked around to see Grian was gone. “Bitch coulda woken us up too.” Tommy complained before pulling out his communicator. More messages started coming in, so he scrolled up to read the first one.

<Tubbo_> Grian’s a watcher again! We need help!

<Tubbo_> We’re in thjgrknilvsfehmdb

<Iskall85> What? Mumbo was supposed to be watching him

<Hbomb94> What’s going on?

<Docm77> Nothing good.

Tommy scrolled through the messages as he shook Mumbo awake.

<FalseSymmetry> Why isn’t Xisuma responding?

<Iskall85> I’m trying to see where his comm is. <Iskall85> shit, both his and Tubbo’s are completely down.

<BdoubleO100> What are we going to do?!

When Mumbo complained about being woken up, Tommy shoved his communicator in the redstoner’s face. Reluctantly Mumbo took it and started reading and Tommy moved to wake up the bots. After a few seconds, Mumbo jumped up. “Grian’s not here!”

“Yeah, I saw! He’s wherever Tubbo is but no one knows where that is! And apparently Xisuma is fucking dead or something!”

“Oh this is very not good!”

“You think?!” Tommy manages to wake the bots up. “Last week he was worried about us, so maybe we can convince him again?”

“I don’t know, it’s a little different every time.”

“Well that’s just great!” Tommy shouted, snatching his communicator back.

<TommyInnit> If anyone gets eyes on Grian or Tubbo, send a message this way. If we can’t at least calm Grian down, I at least want to keep Tubbo safe.

“What’s going on? Jrumbot asked, sounding concerned.

“Something’s wrong with Dad.” Mumbo answered, picking Grumbot up. “Tommy can you fly down with Jrumbot?”

Tommy shook his head. “You know I’m stronger than you. You carry Jrumbot down, I’ll take Grumbot.”

Mumbo nodded and handed Grumbot to Tommy before the two glided down from the nest room.

The captain stood, weapon drawn as Grian walked closer. They moved towards a shop that was well lit and finally he got a good look at the watcher. He did indeed look like a harpy, though corrupted by the watcher magic.

As Sparklez kept his eye on Grian, he felt a pang of sadness as he recognized something. Though for the most part the form was staying consistent, he could see feathers shifting unnaturally, the forms of arms becoming clearer and then fading from where the wings were. He had seen this before back when Crumb was first learning how to shapeshift, not quite sure how it worked. It made his wonder how much of this the watcher was in control of.

He didn’t have much more time to dwell on that train of thought as a wing swept towards him. He swung his sword, the blade cutting into the feathers. There was a screech of pain from the Watcher and he pulled back. He seemed to be ready to attack again but paused, tilting his head. Sparklez watched, trying to read his opponent, but then had to cover his face as Grian flew into the air, making the wind whip around. Before he could recover, he felt what felt like claws against his chest. They were gone a moment later as his back was slammed against a wall.

“No! Tubbox is my friend!” He heard Crumb speak, making him look back up. Grian had grabbed a now struggling Tubbo. Crumb was holding onto Tubbo as wings swiped at her, but she shifted her form and moved around to keep from being hit. Finally Grian started flying, dragging Tubbo along as well as Crumb as she refused to let go.

“Crumb! No! Let go!” Sparklez held out his arms, hoping she would let go and he could catch her. But she didn’t and the two of them were taken away by the Watcher as purple magic teleported them away. The captain fell to his knees, just staring at the now empty space in the air.

A raven landed in front of a building of blackstone and obsidian. It shifted back to human form and hit the button, sending a signal to the warden. He traveled through the nether portals to meet with Sam. Answers came out of his mouth that he couldn’t even understand, but it seemed the warden was able to. He was guided to a platform and soon he was walking across to a prison cell with Dream standing within it.

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #tommyinnit #grian #grian xelqua #watcher!grian #avian!grian #dreamwastaken #ranboo #mumbo jumbo #tubbo #crumbl #cuptoast #captain sparklez #wilbur soot #philza

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myonechicagoworld · 3 years

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CHICAGO FIRE – FIREWORKS (S01E18)

[car door shuts]

Gabby Dawson: Hey, Chief. I just thought I’d… catch you before

shift started.

Chief Boden: You caught me.

Gabby Dawson: Uh, good morning, first of all.

Chief Boden: Morning.

Gabby Dawson: So obviously I heard what I heard last night. And I

guess I’m just trying to figure out what to do about

it now that it’s kind of out in the open.

Chief Boden: It’s not out in the open.

Gabby Dawson: Well, I mean it’s out in the open for me, because I

don’t know if you’re aware or not, but Pete and I

are dating.

Chief Boden: I’m aware.

Gabby Dawson: So you may also be aware that Pete’s become

increasingly convinced that people are keeping

secrets from him about his dad, vis à vis…

Are you gonna tell him what’s going on before he

hears it from Kelly’s dad?

Chief Boden: Benny Severide is not gonna be coming around 51

anymore.

Gabby Dawson: Still, Pete is gonna keep digging until he finds out.

Chief Boden: Gabby, your dogged inquisitiveness…is one of the

qualities that makes you such an effective paramedic.

But it is of no use to you in this matter, which is a

private one.

If you care about Mills like I think you do… drop it.

I’ll see you back at the house.

cutscene

[food sizzling in pan]

Benny Severide: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Morning.

Benny Severide: Morning. We got scrapple and we got eggs.

Grab a seat. There you go.

Kelly Severide: Thanks.

Benny Severide: So, um… Whoritsky’s offered me a teaching post,

and I’m-I’m thinking about doing it. Figured I

could come down and see you ever couple

weeks, hang out. What do you think?

Kelly Severide: Sounds good.

Benny Severide: Will probably have to spend one more shift at the

house. Kind of re-familiarise myself with a couple

of things. So why don’t you tell Boden I’ll be there

about noon.

Kelly Severide: What the hell’s going on with you and Boden?

Benny Severide: Look, Wally and me, we go way back. He and I,

one minute we’re at each other’s throats and-and

the next I’m helping to put a new deck on his

house, okay? This is nothing new.

Look, I promise you, I-I’ll be a choir boy, okay?

A mute choir boy.

cutscene

Chief Boden: Keep that 2 ½ on the roof line. I don’t want a flare-up

spreading to other buildings.

Kelly Severide: Oh, hey, sir, sir. You’re gonna want to stand back,

okay?

Man 1 (Owner): It’s my restaurant, are-are my employees safe?

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Hey, Casey, you got a search status?

Matt Casey: (into radio) Building’s clear, just opening up the ceiling.

Pop a couple of these tiles.

[tiles breaking]

Kelly Severide: Building was empty, your people are out.

Man 1 (Owner): Son of a bitch said I’d pay. I never thought he’d go

this far.

Kelly Severide: Yeah?

Man 1 (Owner): Ten years without a grease fire. I opened four

restaurants in the union, suddenly he sees money.

I refused to sign. They send this thug!

Kelly Severide: Sounds like you’re gonna want to talk to CPD.

Man 1 (Owner): What good would that do? This guy’s not gonna

stop until I’m-I’m ruined or dead.

Lady 1 (Owner’s Wife): [sobbing]

Matt Casey: (into radio) Okay, Chief, we’re almost done. Send in

engine for the wash down.

[ceiling crashing]

Firefighter: Whoa!

Joe Cruz: Casey!

- title -

Peter Mills: Lieutenant!

Joe Cruz: Mills, get out of here!

[grunts]

[glass shattering]

Joe Cruz: [groans]

Chief Boden: Hit him with the hose!

Joe Cruz: Come on!

[water spraying]

Joe Cruz: Lieutenant!

Matt Casey: [grunts] I’m okay [pants]

Thanks, Cruz.

[water spraying]

Matt Casey: Seriously, it’s fine. It didn’t burn through my gear.

Leslie Shay: Then what’s this?

Matt Casey: Ow.

Gabby Dawson: Hold still. It’s just a first-degree burn.

Will you give me that bandage?

Couple more seconds of whatever that was that

dumped down on you, it wouldn’t have stopped

at the jacket.

Leslie Shay: [sighs] It smells like fuel.

Otis Zvonecek: That’s ‘cause it was. Homemade gasoline fire

bombs in the ceiling.

Lady 1 (Owner’s Wife): [sobbing]

cutscene

Matt Casey: Back door was kicked in. It’s not like whoever did it

was making an attempt to hide it was arson.

Man 2 (James Whoritsky): CPD said they’d back seat to my office

on this one.

Kelly Severide: On that union rep who was threatened by the owner

of the diner?

Man 2 (James Whoritsky): Yeah, your owner, Stuart Tuxhorn, filed a

complaint against a, uh, Lou Krinsky

last month. We’re checking it out, but

with a case like this, the evidence is

circumstantial at best.

Kelly Severide: [chuckles] Yeah.

Man 2 (James Whoritsky): Did I say something funny?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, this union guy, if he’s connected to city

politics, you can’t tell me that someone isn’t

already trying to get this buried.

Chief Boden: Look, we’re good here. Just keep us posted.

Kelly Severide: Can I talk to you a sec?

My old man wants to come by the house again.

Chief Boden: Kelly, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

[door closes]

Kelly Severide: Whatever business you guys got, that’s your

business. But he said he’ll be a choir boy and

it’s-it’s one more shift.

Chief Boden: Here’s the deal, Kelly. I don’t know what your dad

has told you…

Kelly Severide: He hasn’t told me dick.

Chief Boden: Some guys when they retire and they come back

around the job, for some reason, they gotta tear

it down. I’m no psychologist, but your dad, he’s

always been really adept at tearing things down.

So that he’s the only one left standing. He has a

take on how Peter Mills’ father died, and it’s

untrue. And that would hurt Pete if that were

thrown in his face. I will not allow your father to

do it. So it would be in everybody’s best interest

if you were to meet your father in another house.

So… you can tell him. Or I could tell him.

[cell phone rings]

Benny Severide: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey. Uh, my buddy Jason Baseden over at Squad

One, you remember him?

Benny Severide: Yeah, sure, I remember Jason.

Kelly Severide: Well, he heard you were in town and he was…he

was…he was, like, “get your old man over here!”

It’s a newer house, all the latest bells and whistles

and I can stop by later if we don’t get a call. So…

so stop over there, okay? Jason’s expecting you.

Benny Severide: Yeah, sure, of course. No problem.

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Peter Mills: Hey. Um, hey, don’t be jealous, but, uh, Dolores down

at the records department of the academy… I sent her

a gift basket of cookies and brownies, just trying to

butter her up to try and get information on the fire my

dad died in, and… it worked. She sent me over the

Battalion Chief’s original report. And I am starting to

see why Boden and Kelly’s dad don’t want to talk

about it. Two firefighters dying and the other

fire-fighter’s wife was pregnant with her first child.

Gabby Dawson: Tough to relive through, you know?

Peter Mills: Yeah.

Well, Dolores is still searching, she’s gonna send me

anything that she finds.

cutscene

Joe Cruz: [growls]

[dog growling]

Leslie Shay: Hey, guys, what does ‘ebullient’ mean again?

Joe Cruz: No idea.

Mouch: Bull-like. To resemble a bull.

Otis Zvonecek: Means cheerful and energetic.

Mouch: Or that.

Leslie Shay: All right, thanks.

Otis Zvonecek: Why?

Leslie Shay: One of these guys used it to describe himself.

Matt Casey: Any guy that describes himself as ebullient, you don’t

want his sperm.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, right. Thanks.

Mouch: How much longer you gonna be on this donor kick?

Leslie Shay: Until I find the right guy.

Mouch: And you can just look at ‘em on your computer.

Leslie Shay: Mmhmm, like I’m doing right now. Correct.

Mouch: I admire your gumption. Most other people would, you

know, keep that behind closed doors.

Leslie Shay: Every time Cindy gets pregnant, Herrmann plasters her

sonogram images all over the fridge. And what? I’m

supposed to hide in a corner?

Mouch: I said I admire your gumption.

[phone vibrates]

Leslie Shay: Well, thanks.

Matt Casey: Hey Heather.

Heather Darden: I was in the neighbourhood.

Matt Casey: Great.

Heather Darden: Hey, um, did you notice an earring in your truck?

I’m missing one.

Matt Casey: Uh, I didn’t see it, but I can… I can take a look.

Heather Darden: Thank you.

Oh and by the way, Saturday the kids are staying

with my parents and I was planning on having

dinner with one of my girlfriends, but her dad’s

not doing so hot so she had to fly out to

Jacksonville. But I’ve already got that night free

so I was thinking, why don’t we grab dinner?

cutscene

[alert beeps]

Benny Severide: (over PA) Smoke eater in the house!

Kelly Severide: God damn it!

Benny Severide: Donut man in the house!

Donuts, everybody! Donuts!

Firefighters: Oh, hell yeah!

[indistinct shouting and cheering]

Benny Severide: Come and get it!

Kelly Severide: Hey, what happened to going to Squad one?

Benny Severide: I didn’t want to.

Come on, you guys, let’s get a donut.

Hi, Wally.

You know, I used to bring those to the ladies

in arson all the time. One of them, Ruthie,

she didn’t have anything personal in her office.

I mean, nothing. Not a family photo, nothing.

All she had behind her desk, right in the middle

of her tack board was this quote, “If you can’t

do anything about it, don’t worry about it.” And

I am, like, “Man, this Ruthie is locked into some

higher level stuff,” right?

Chief Boden: Benny, can I talk to you real quick?

Benny Severide: Yeah, just a second. So anyway, Ruthie retires

and I go in to say goodbye and I look at the

board and the quote is still there. And I say,

“Hey Ruthie, you forgot your quote.” And she

says, “That’s not mine, that was here when I

moved into the office.”

[laughter]

Benny Severide: All this time I thought she was like this oracle

or something, you know? Anyway, I kept the

quote. What the hell? Couldn’t hurt.

Lead the way, boss.

Chief Boden: You’re not welcome here.

Benny Severide: Yeah? Is that why you have my son hustle me

down the road?

Chief Boden: You are not welcome here.

Benny Severide: 25 years on the job, 15 of them in this house.

Nobody tells me when I can come and go!

Kelly Severide: Whatever you two are trying not to bring attention

to, guess what? You’re bringing attention to it.

Benny Severide: We got this, Kelly.

Kelly Severide: No you don’t!

He wants to stay here one more shift, that’s it.

Can you keep your mouth shut while you’re

here?

Benny Severide: Who the hell are you to tell me to…

Kelly Severide: It’s a yes or no question!

[knocks on door]

Matt Casey: Lou Krinsky, restaurant workers local 553 is here.

Looking to talk to us.

Chief Boden: We’ll be right there.

Matt Casey: Do I need to turn the hose on you guys?

Chief Boden: We’re good. We’re fine. We’ll be right out.

Hmph. You always had all the answers.

But I’m gonna tell you, this is your only shift. You

try and show up again for a second, I will put an

ass kicking on you 20 years in the making.

Benny Severide: Ooh! You still got it, Wally. I was starting to think

all those bugles had turned you into a big

marshmallow.

It’s the way it’s always been with me and him.

Kelly Severide: You didn’t own this house. You rented it. And I’m

here now, so show me some respect.

cutscene

Man 3 (Lou Krinsky): Just curious why a report coming from this

house has the arson department trying to

finger me for burning down a restaurant.

Matt Casey: That report conveyed the owner’s statement to us,

that’s all.

Man 3 (Lou Krinsky): Oh, okay. Well then, I would like to make

a report. Tuxhorn… rapes baby seals.

Put that in the report, have him have to

defend it.

Chief Boden: This is between you and the fire investigations.

Man 3 (Lou Krinsky): Yeah, and it got that far because you

guys took the word of some sweatshop

owner over that of a fellow union brother.

Why don’t you show some courtesy, talk

to me first.

Kelly Severide: We’re not talking about a busboy who got fired,

Lou, this is serious business.

Man 3 (Lou Krinsky): I know. I’m being accused of starting it!

Kelly Severide: We just wrote down what we saw and heard.

Man 3 (Lou Krinsky): [scoffs]

Matt Casey: Guy’s a skull cracker.

[door closes]

cutscene

Leslie Shay: You’re awfully quiet? Everything all right?

Gabby Dawson: All right, let’s… let’s say that if you knew

something… What?

Leslie Shay: Nothing.

Gabby Dawson: No, no, no. Don’t give me that. What? What

is it?

Leslie Shay: Um…

[chuckling]

Gabby Dawson: Ohh… ohh…

Mouch: Oh, goodness gracious.

Leslie Shay: I’m not here to judge you.

Mouch: [stammers] I didn’t… see, that… when… when the…

what?

Leslie Shay: I’m not here to judge you. I just want to know how

it works.

Mouch: Who else knows?

Leslie Shay: No one.

Mouch: Dawson?

Leslie Shay: Just Dawson.

Mouch: Oh Shay.

Leslie Shay: Don’t worry. She’s sworn to secrecy. But, Mouch, I

gotta ask. Six foot? 175?

Mouch: I aged out. It was my understanding they were gonna

take that down.

Leslie Shay: Fine. Look, I got a million questions I’m gonna ask

you. Can I? Please?

Mouch: [sighs] Okay, I’m ready.

Leslie Shay: Great. First off, the sperm. Did you…

[fire alarm buzzes and blares]

Mouch: Oh!

(Over PA): Truck 81, Ambulance 61. Restaurant fire.

[sirens blaring]

[horn honking]

Kelly Severide: Mr Tuxhorn.

Man 1 (Owner/Tuxhorn): I never should have told you ‘cause

he’s gonna bury me now.

Kelly Severide: Stay back.

Lady 2 (Bus Driver): I’m the one who called. I was making my

stop and I saw a man on fire running

through the restaurant.

Chief Boden: Okay, no one goes in. Hit it from the window. Quick

takedown. If that driver’s right, this is gonna be a

recovery.

[water spraying]

Matt Casey: (into radio) Cleared the dining room and bathrooms.

No bodies. Moving into the kitchen.

Kelly Severide: Guess I don’t need to remind you to keep your

eyes on the ceiling.

Matt Casey: That’s exactly what I’m doing.

Kelly Severide: Hey. It’s the same entry point as the last fire.

Matt Casey: Wherever he is, he’s long gone.

(into radio) This is Casey. Building’s clear.

[door swings open]

Kelly Severide: Uh Casey…

Matt Casey: (into radio) We need a medic.

[indistinct radio chatter]

Gabby Dawson: [grunts] Let’s turn him over.

Leslie Shay: [grunts]

Gabby Dawson: Agonal breathing. Fire may have scorched his

lungs.

Matt Casey: How bad?

Gabby Dawson: I don’t know. Airway looks pretty fried.

Leslie Shay: His arms are burned. Can’t get a line in. He’s got

minutes at best.

Gabby Dawson: We move him or lose him. Give us a hand?

Leslie Shay: On three. Very gentle. One, two, three.

Gabby Dawson: (into radio) 61 to Main, let Lakeshore know we

are two minutes out with a burn victim.

Leslie Shay: Dawson…

Gabby Dawson: (into radio) 61 to Main. Cancel that. Victim is

DOA. We will transport from scene for safety.

Dispatcher: Copy that 61… [continues indistinctively]

cutscene

Man 2 (James Whoristsky): Well, we verified it. Krinsky’s alibi

clears him from the second fire.

Matt Casey: Come on, he’s union muscle. He could have had

one of his knuckleheads torch both places.

Man 2 (James Whoristsky): I’m not arguing with that. But as

of now, we don’t have actionable

evidence.

Chief Boden: I got a drawer in the morgue full of evidence. I

don’t care if the man inside is homeless or a

CEO, he didn’t deserve the death he got.

Man 2 (James Whoristsky): Oh, and I think he did? Come on,

give me a break.

Kelly Severide: The guy who owns these restaurants is fearing

for his life.

Man 2 (James Whoristsky): We need proof. Do I really need to

explain arson investigation to you

guys? It take a while.

Kelly Severide: Let’s go back to that second fire and look around.

Matt Casey: Yeah. All right.

Kelly Severide: Cool?

Chief Boden: Yeah. Take your dad with you.

Kelly Severide: Chief, he gave his word that he’d keep his mouth

shut around here…

Chief Boden: I know he’s a pain in the ass, but he’s a hell of an

arson investigator.

Kelly Severide: Oh yeah.

[door closes]

Peter Mills: You know, I could cook you up something if you’d

like.

Benny Severide: Oh, that’s all right. Thanks, though.

Peter Mills: I didn’t know that you and my dad were on Squad

together. And um… the other firefighter who died

with him.

Benny Severide: That’s right. Ross McGowan. Two years on

the job. About your age. Had his whole life

ahead of him. Never got to meet his daughter.

A real shame.

Peter Mills: Yeah, I’m sorry to bring that up. I know it must be uh,

really hard to relive.

Benny Severide: Yeah. Never should have happened.

Peter Mills: How do you mean?

Benny Severide: Well, like you said. It’s hard to relive.

Peter Mills: Respectfully, Mr Severide, I get the sense that there’s

something you really want to tell me.

Kelly Severide: Hey. Let’s take a ride.

cutscene

Leslie Shay: So, like the pamphlet says, you just…do it in a cup?

Mouch: No, uh, a…a gossamer-winged stork flies down and…

Leslie Shay: [sighs]

Mouch: Yes.

Leslie Shay: And have you had contact with any of the…

Mouch: With the kids? God, no!

Leslie Shay: Because…

Mouch: I’m Father Flanagan? No way! I treasure my privacy.

Leslie Shay: Damn. It just… seems so impersonal.

Mouch: Let me just stop you right there. My cousin Ted and his

wife, Patty, they tried for a long time, couldn’t conceive.

They decided to go the AI route, that’s shorthand for

artificial…

Leslie Shay: I got it.

Mouch: Okay. So now they have a lovely daughter Elsa who is

the light of their lives. And that family is filled with

nothing but love, despite the clinical origins.

Leslie Shay: That’s beautiful. I…Is that why you became a donor?

Because of them?

Mouch: No. The cash. 125 a pop. That’s what they call a renewable

resource.

Leslie Shay: I don’t know, man. Might have to figure something else

out.

cutscene

[door closes]

Benny Severide: So, Matt, was that Andy Darden’s widow I saw

you with at the academy dinner?

Matt Casey: Yeah, Heather. That was her. She just needed a ride.

Benny Severide: It’s good to see you guys haven’t turned your

back on her. That’s important.

Matt Casey: Yeah. Absolutely. I’ll take the back.

Kelly Severide: Both buildings were broken into from the rear

entry. Gas accelerants were used.

Benny Severide: Okay.

I don’t know about this teaching gig.

Kelly Severide: Why not?

Benny Severide: Job’s changed too much.

Kelly Severide: It’s almost exactly the same. It’s just better gear.

Benny Severide: Well, the people have changed is what I’m

saying. Back when I came up, you fought a

war at 18. You had kids by the time you were 22.

You’d live a life. You were a man. Now these kids

are coming straight out of their parents’

basements to the firehouse. What the hell can I

teach somebody like that?

Hadley: [indistinctive chatter]

Benny Severide: Like him.

Hadley: [laughs]

Kelly Severide: Who? Hadley? He’s fine.

Benny Severide: Yeah. Okay.

Kelly Severide: They still have wars. People still pop out kids. I

don’t know why you gotta piss on everything.

Benny Severide: Rubber. From the sole of a sneaker. That bus

driver was right. Somebody was on fire and

running through here. What was the homeless

guy wearing?

Kelly Severide: He had boots on.

Benny Severide: Then we’re looking for somebody else. It

wouldn’t be him.

Hadley: So this thing collapses and knocks us down… [laughs]

Kelly Severide: Hadley.

Hadley: Yeah?

Kelly Severide: Quit playing grab ass, would you?

Benny Severide: Look at this. You see that? Pry marks. This door

wasn’t breached from the outside. Somebody

had a key. The owner or somebody he hired.

They let themselves in the front door and then

they pried this open. Make it look like it was

broken in from the outside.

Kelly Severide: You gotta be kidding me.

Benny Severide: Inside job.

cutscene

Chief Boden: Thank you. Appreciate it.

15 minutes after the second fire was call in,

18-year-old kid walked into an urgent care unit

five blocks from the scene. He had second and

third degree burns. Claimed it was a barbecue

mishap. Memorial went and picked him up.

He’s there’s now.

Kelly Severide: I want to head down there and check it out.

Chief Boden: Kelly…

Kelly Severide: I don’t like getting lied to. I don’t like getting

worked. And if someone other than that union

guy got that homeless man killed, I want to

know.

Matt Casey: I got him covered.

Chief Boden: Hit it.

[door closes]

[knocks on door]

Kelly Severide: What’s up, Omar? Lieutenant Severide, CFD.

Teen 1 (Omar): Oh geez. Damn barbecue. Didn’t know the gas

was on and boom. Lucky I’m alive.

Kelly Severide: Where were you standing?

Teen 1 (Omar): Right in front of the grill, trying to light it.

Kelly Severide: Then how’d you burn your legs?

Teen 1 (Omar): I don’t know. It was a big ol’ fireball, though.

Kelly Severide: Those aren’t barbecue burns, Omar. I’d know.

I’ve responded to 20 of them.

Teen 1 (Omar): I-I swear to God…

Kelly Severide: And they’re gonna test the shoes you were

wearing against the rubber fixed to the floor

in that diner and it’s all gonna go south.

Teen 1 (Omar): Why? For what? I-I didn’t do nothing.

Kelly Severide: A guy was killed in that second fire.

Teen 1 (Omar): No. No, no, no, man.

Kelly Severide: Look, I’m not a cop. I just want to know

what happened and I’ll help you any way I

can before the cops get involved. And

they’re gonna get involved soon.

Teen 1 (Omar): Okay. All right, mayb… there’s one thing

maybe you can help me with.

Kelly Severide: I’ll try.

Teen 1 (Omar): It was an insurance scam. Tuxhorn and his

wife wanted two of the diners to go down

and they was gonna lay it off on some union

dude who he was beefing with. And he

asked my dad to help him do it. My dad

owes him a lot of money, so he said he was

in to settle up. But my dad, he got a knee

replacement surgery last year and he ain’t

too quick. So I said I’d do it. I was pouring

the gas… I don’t know. Maybe the fumes hit

a pilot light or something. And I was just

running through the restaurant all on fire and…

Tuxhorn put me out and he took me here and

he said to say it was a barbecue accident.

Look, man, I’ll take the ride for it. I just gotta

leave my dad out of it. Can I do that? Can I

leave my dad out of it with the cops?

Kelly Severide: Don’t bring up his name.

Teen 1 (Omar): Okay. Thank you.

cutscene

Mouch: Did somebody change his food, ‘cause there is

something going on here.

Peter Mills: Where’s Herrmann?

Matt Casey: Bar management seminar.

You guys close to opening?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, a few weeks…hopefully.

Joe Cruz: Hey, uh, Shay, where’s your iPad?

Leslie Shay: Put it away for a bit.

Joe Cruz: Did you find a donor?

Leslie Shay: Regrouping.

Joe Cruz: So you’re not going the whole sperm donor route

anymore?

Leslie Shay: What is this, an interrogation? I told you, I’m

regrouping.

Otis Zvonecek: So, um, who asked who out? I’m just

curious.

Gabby Dawson: [laughs]

Peter Mills: Um, wait. You did, right?

Gabby Dawson: What?

Peter Mills: Yeah, you asked me to dinner that one night.

Gabby Dawson: Oh no, that-that wasn’t a date.

Peter Mills: Damn.

Gabby Dawson: What’s up?

Peter Mills: Dolores from Records, she sent me an email

earlier. I just… I can’t open it on my phone.

I’m… I’m gonna try it in there.

[typing]

[tense music]

cutscene

Chief Boden: Hey, Kelly, great job.

Kelly Severide: Hey, thanks, Chief.

Chief Boden: You too, Benny.

Benny Severide: Thank you. I appreciate that.

How about I get a cup of coffee before

I take off?

Kelly Severide: All right.

Leslie Shay: Hey, you got a second?

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

What?

Leslie Shay: So how are you?

Kelly Severide: Um, what’s-what’s going on?

Leslie Shay: So here’s the deal. You know I’ve done

thorough research on this whole

insemination thing. And today I got… well,

I guess, uh, accidental window into how

the whole process works, and it really left

me feeling… hollow.

Kelly Severide: Okay.

Leslie Shay: And you know, I’ve been searching for the

perfect guy to be the father of my baby.

Someone honourable, strong, good looking

[chuckles] I mean, sue me. And maybe even

someone who would want to be part of the

child’s life. And someone who would want to

celebrate, you know, how beautiful it could be.

With me… a cool chick who’s not gonna freak

out and they’ll never have to worry about, you

know, me wanting a divorce or trying to take all

their money, or be a bitch or… [exhales] Kelly I

want to know if you’d like to have a baby with

me.

Kelly Severide: Look, Shay, I…

Leslie Shay: No, no, no. Let me finish. And we’d go through

the insemination process…

Kelly Severide: Um…

Leslie Shay: And… and yeah. Okay that’s it. I’m done.

Kelly Severide: I don’t… I don’t… I don’t know what to say.

Leslie Shay: That’s okay. I just… I just want you to-to think

about it.

Kelly Severide: I…

Leslie Shay: Thank you. And listen, if the answer’s no, I mean,

there won’t even be a hiccup between us. It…

it’s okay. It-It’ll be solid Always you and me.

Okay?

[kissing sound]

Kelly Severide: Uh…

cutscene

Benny Severide: Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here.

Mouch: Great to meet you, Ben.

Benny Severide: Good to see you again.

Joe Cruz: Such a pleasure.

Benny Severide: Good to see you.

Otis Zvonecek: Thanks for the donuts.

Benny Severide: Yup.

Matt Casey: Take care, Benny.

Benny Severide: Hey.

Peter Mills: Hey. Mr Severide, can I talk to you in private.

Benny Severide: Actually, I’m just taking off. It was nice

meeting you.

Peter Mills: Yeah, please… I really need to talk to you.

Benny Severide: Can you make it quick?

Peter Mills: Sure.

Um, the Lambert Tree Award. It’s the highest

award awarded to a firefighter. My father was

nominated and everyone up the line signed off

on it… except for you. Just curious to why.

Benny Severide: Some other time, kid, okay?

Peter Mills: Is this what you’re trying to say to me? Do you

feel bad about not signing off for it? That even

though my father was a hero… and even

though he gave his life…

Benny Severide: It’s an award for valor!

Chief Boden: Benny.

Benny Severide: He wants to hear it. I’m gonna tell him.

In the middle of that fire, your father

panicked and pulled off his mask, which

would have been his business, except

another guy died trying to save him. So,

no, I didn’t sign it. Because I could not in

good faith reward someone for

demonstrating cowardice…

Firefighters: Whoa!

Come on, man!

Hey! Hey!

Come on!

Benny Severide: Unh!

[panting] You want to know why Boden

thinks your father wasn’t at fault? Do ya?

‘Cause he’s an optimist, I guess.

I’ll see you back at your house.

Chief Boden: Mills… You are off duty until further notice.

Get your gear. Wait for Benny to get off site,

and you go home and you’ll wait to hear

from me.

Rest of you, get back to work.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, you okay?

Peter Mills: No.

Gabby Dawson: Look, I totally get what lead up to that

and I am so sorry, but you can’t just go

around punching people.

Peter Mills: My dad wasn’t able to defend himself. So I did.

[locker door slams]

Peter Mills: [sighs]

cutscene

Chief Boden: We were all real close. Henry and me. Benny.

Our wives. Then Ingrid and Henry, they

separated. My wife left me. It was during that

time. It just happened. Then I realised that

Henry might have still had feelings for her,

and I may have moved too quick, so I

stepped back just to see. And I was right.

Henry moved back in after a month. Ingrid

always says I broke her heart. So if you

think that there’s something that Peter needs

or wants to know, I’ll go to his place after shift.

I’ll tell him.

Gabby Dawson: Is what Benny said true?

Chief Boden: Not from where I was standing.

cutscene

Heather Darden: Matt?

Matt Casey: Hmm?

Heather Darden: You have like, two utensils in this kitchen.

Matt Casey: Yeah, it’s on my to-do list.

Heather Darden: You’ve been busy, huh?

Matt Casey: Yeah, it’s been one thing after another lately.

Heather Darden: Have you been dating? Since Hallie?

Matt Casey: Uh, there was someone for a minute, maybe

less. Wasn’t the right time.

Heather Darden: Sorry to hear that.

Matt Casey: What are you gonna do? Damn that smells

good. First home-cooked meal I’ve had

since… I don’t even know.

Heather Darden: It sucks having to come home to an

empty house, doesn’t it?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Heather Darden: We don’t have to be alone. We don’t

deserve to be. We’re good people.

Why can’t we be happy?

Matt Casey: Heather… I’m really glad you’re here. And

if it was under different circumstances,

believe me… but Andy was one of my best

friends. And he was your husband, and… I

think we should honour that.

Heather Darden: You know what? You’re right. Let’s just

count our blessings

Matt Casey: Dinner and a movie. Let’s get the movie ready.

cutscene

[knocks on door]

Gabby Dawson: Hey, bruiser.

[door shuts]

[kissing sound]

Peter Mills: What’s the word? You heard anything?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. I, um, spoke to Boden briefly.

Peter Mills: What did he say?

Gabby Dawson: Well, he hasn’t heard from Benny so

the hope is that he doesn’t raise a

stink. If that’s the case, then hopefully

this thing will stay in house. Boden

says to just sit tight for now.

Peter Mills: That’s all he said?

Gabby Dawson: That’s all he said to me.

Peter Mills: Okay, look… can I just say that even though

I’m… maybe in a jam right now, I feel… I feel

lighter. ’Cause since forever I’ve been carrying

around this weight of not knowing. And I could

always just tell that there was something out

there that wasn’t being told to me. At least now

I can… I can move on.

Gabby Dawson: Hey… what Benny said isn’t true.

Peter Mills: I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?

Gabby Dawson: Baby, it’s not true…

Peter Mills: Look, I-I don’t want to talk about it anymore

[exhales]

cutscene

Matt Casey: Heather.

[orchestral music playing on TV]

[TV turns off]

cutscene

Benny Severide: He’s just like his old man. It was Henry

Mills against the world. The guy always

had a problem. So if people want to

knock me for being arrogant or

whatever, let them. At least I was

un-conflicted. And in this job, you

better damn well have that going for

you, or you and your buddy’s badges

will end up on the wall at the academy.

Kelly Severide: Well, I didn’t know his old man, but I

know Peter. And from what I’ve seen,

the kid has heart. He has courage.

Benny Severide: Yeah, well I’ve seen your squad. Maybe

you’re not the best judge of character.

[bag zips]

Benny Severide: Look, Kelly, I…I really did come down

here to spend time with you. I didn’t

mean for any of this to happen. And if

anything I did reflects poorly on you,

I’m sorry about that. I guess your old

man is just a guy stuck in his ways. But

hey… if you can’t do anything about it,

don’t worry about it.

[door opens and closes]

cutscene

[knocks on door]

Kelly Severide: Hey.

Peter Mills: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Listen, I know it’s been on your mind

and, uh, I think you’d be a really great

addition to squad. You’re gonna want

to take Hazmat Tech “A”, Vertical

Rescue and Building Collapse One. If

any of them are full, you let me know I

can…I can pull some strings.

Peter Mills: Really?

Kelly Severide: Really. Let’s push it, see what happens.

Peter Mills: Okay.

Kelly Severide: Great.

[chuckling]

- end -

Definitions:

Scrapple = Also known by the Pennsylvania Dutch name Pannhaas or “pan rabbit”, is a traditionally a mush of pork scraps and trimmings combined with cornmeal and wheat flour, often buckwheat flour, and spices. The mush is formed into a semi-solid congealed load, and slices of the scrapple are then pan-fried before serving

Agonal breathing = Medical term used to describe struggling to breathe or gasping. It is often a symptom of a severe medical emergency, such as a stroke or cardiac arrest. The gasping associated with agonal respiration is not true breathing, but rather a brainstem reflex.

Hazmat Tech “A” = Hazardous Materials Technician course provides the essential knowledge, skills, and abilities to operate offensively or defensively at an incident involving the release of hazardous materials.

Building Collapse One = This course is extensively hands-on and prepares the student to operate safely and efficiently at a building collapse incident. It offers practice in cutting, breaching, lifting, stabilising, searching, shoring, packaging, and removing victims from a simulated collapse environment

20 notes · View notes

supernova-variations · 4 years

Text

10th Doctor, Brave

(not my gif!)

10th Doctor x reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety. but overall a fluffy oneshot with a slightly angsty ending? word count: 2000! got carried away with this one but i don’t care. i had so much fun writing this! request: Ola could do a picture with Doctor ten and reader / fem with the music phil collins - you'll be in my heart

A/N: before all of you read it, i just want to remind you how brave all of you are. even if you don’t know it. you just need to be shown that you are capable of everything. i love you guys so much. thank you for the never-ending support. mary xx

“Brave”

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

And hold it tight

The Doctor came when she needed him the most, crushed by her own expectations and broken spines of old university books. Y/N measured her worth in coffee cups and hours she spent not-sleeping. She couldn’t be the judge of her beauty, she was way past looking at herself on the mirror, striving to gain knowledge to please everyone around her. She wouldn’t allow herself to fail, even if it meant running on fumes with limbs shaking from a caffeine overdose.

Afraid of failure, that’s who she was.

But we all have our limits, don’t we? Apparently, Y/N’s limit was the Latin exam, the one that got lost in her mind, tucked between a fifteen pages long essay due Monday, and an oral presentation that was supposed to take place the next day. Even the books in the library – usually her friend – seemed to judge her incompetence. Absurd thoughts filled her mind – maybe if she hid under the table and closed her eyes people would just forget that she existed? Maybe she would forget that she existed.

“Taurus agricola fugat,” she mumbled, tightly hugging her knees, her stomach turning into a big knot of nervousness, a bitter taste in her mouth. “No! Agricolae taurum fugat. N-”

“Why are you crying in Latin?” A pair of converse-covered feet peeked under the table, soon to be followed by a head full of ruffled, chaotic hair and concerned deep-brown eyes.

“I’m trying to bring back the Roman Empire to life,” the bitter joke escaping her lips mixed with a waterfall of tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

“Come on then, it’s not a place to do that.” The man reached out his hand and she grabbed it without hesitation, holding it tight. His fingers were slim, tender and warm, bringing comfort to all the cells inside her body that shrunk with the terror of the upcoming exam. “I’m the Doctor by the way.”

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

Y/N pounded on the chamber’s door with great force, her knuckles turning pale and bloody. She was suffocating, but not because of the lack of air. Her body decided to shut down, anxiety shaking her bones to the core.

A small window provided the girl with a view on a narrow, long corridor. She looked around to find something heavy to crush the electrical mechanism of the lock, the lasts of adrenaline kicking into her bloodstream. There was nothing around her, she knew that already, but she couldn’t give up. The Doctor would give up.

Soon enough Y/N found herself on the floor, the walls getting closer and closer, pressing against her back and knees. She could do so much more, right? Discover the world beyond the coffee-stained pages of the university books, brush her fingers against the ancient ground – only with a snap of the Doctor’s fingers. He promised her that. He said she would be safe with him, only if she took his hand and held it tight.

The ship was about to collapse and the Doctor ran towards the vault. Y/N forced herself onto her feet, knees bending with fear. She could decipher her name from the movement from his lips. The coat floated outside of his slim figure, not being able to catch up with his fast movements. Even the time he was slowly running out of couldn’t stop him.

“Don’t you dare cry, Y/N! I will be there!” And soon she was. In his arms. With only one problem: the ship was about to collapse.

For one so small,

You seem so strong

My arms will hold you,

Keep you safe and warm

This bond between us

Can't be broken

I will be here

Don't you cry

Y/N wasn’t afraid to cry in front of the Daleks. It was good to show them her humanity, to remind them what they weren’t capable of. “Cry baby” they used to call her, but she wasn’t embarrassed by her feelings by now. The Doctor showed her the beauty of them, the beauty hidden within.

“You don’t seem to know who he is,” Y/N laughed bitterly, angrily wiping the tears escaping her eyes. Resting her ear against both of the Doctor’s hearts, reassured by their beating, she got up slowly, limping on her left feet. The sudden explosion knocked out both of them and she was the first one to regain consciousness.

The Time Lord laid on the ground, sonic screwdriver abandoned on the ground. Without a playful smile on his lips and sparkling eyes, he seemed out of place, like an impostor, and that broke her heart. But he needed her, even if she was small and fragile. He didn’t teach her to be strong, he simply showed her how.

She faced the Dalek, resting her teared-up but furious eyes on the creature. She would take one step at the time, just like the Doctor taught her, gravel shifting under her feet.

“He is the Doctor.” The Dalek screeched. “He has been exterminated. And so will you be.”

“He is so much more than the Doctor.” She moved further, jumping on her right feet, the sprained ankle sending fireworks of pain to her synapses. “And so am I.”

'Cause you'll be in my heart

Yes, you'll be in my heart

From this day on

Now and forever more

You'll be in my heart

No matter what they say

You'll be here in my heart

Always

“Are you sure about this?” Y/N asked him, holding onto the sleeves of the Doctor’s jacket. He wasn’t terrified, not at all. A goofy grin lit his face when the heavy wind hit their figures. How they still stood in the middle of a storm was an enigma to Y/N. Maybe the Time Lords defied the laws of gravity.

“Was I ever sure about anything?”

“Don’t be cocky!” The companion scolded him, earning another boyish laugh from the Doctor. He expected her to jump off a building. Not any building; the highest building in the world. She rested her eyes on his face, focusing on counting the freckles on his cheeks. She knew that if she even dared to trail off her gaze towards the void beneath them, she would most likely faint.

“Thought you were deadly scared of heights, and here you are, lecturing me. I adore you, Y/N Y/S.” The girl shivered at how her surname sounded in Doctor’s lips. He made her feel like she was a giant, capable of anything. No matter if it was a Latin exam, deadly Dalek, or a collapsing ship.

“Allons-y before I change my mind?” Gripping on to his arms, Y/N took the first leap. They were so close she could feel the Time Lord’s eyelashes tickling her cheek.

Why can't they understand the way we feel

They just don't trust what they can't explain

I know we're different, but deep inside us

We're not that different at all

Even though they were so different – hell they weren’t even the same species – they belonged to each other. When one was anxious, the other one filled them with hope. When one needed slowing down, the other one told him to take a deep breath. The Doctor and Y/N found themselves in a curve of time, imprinted as a mere fraction in the universe’s history. It wasn’t possible and yet it was.

“What is this called again?” Y/N gasped, examining a tiny object in her hand. The surface of a shining ball seemed to shift it’s constellations and orbits every time she turned it around. The Doctor had told her that she was holding a miniature universe in her hands. “I mean, it’s not possible. In my physics classes, we’ve-,”

“Haven’t I proven to you that physics is so much more than school education? You can’t simply grasp it. It’s intangible. Well,” he stopped himself and cupped her hands with his own, “usually. Right now you are holding physics in your hands.”

“Physics, physics, physics?” Y/N reminded him, meeting his eyes and he smiled at her.

“Physics, physics, physics.”

She could hear the happiness stroking his vocal cords.

Don't listen to them

'Cause what do they know

We need each other, to have, to hold

They'll see in time, I know

“Ah, the Doctor and one of his pets. At last.” A voice echoed throughout the empty hall of the Westminster Palace. Who would have thought that the current Prime Minister was indeed a Reptile? Well, only the people on the internet.

“Yes, nice to meet you. Or not. Funny enough, you’re the one that resembles a…pet.” Y/N cocked her head to the side and looked up at the Doctor’s expression. She carefully studied his face, how his nose curved and the subtle raise of his right eyebrow.

“Twelve million people just punched the air,” The Doctor snickered and leaned onto the wall. “Sorry, a mistake in calculations. You can add two more people to that number. You know why? Never let me near all those buttons.” The sonic screwdriver pointed at the secret panel hidden behind a painting of one of the kings of Britain. Probably a Reptilian also.

“Are we officially a number one enemy of United Kingdom?”

“Oh yes! Yes, we are!”

When destiny calls you, you must be strong

I may not be with you

But you got to hold on

They'll see in time, I know

We'll show them together

Old Y/N would cry at this point – terrified of alien destruction, the Time Lords pulling through time itself, the unpredictability of the Master. It was time to be strong. She had to, the Doctor counted on her. The whole world did.

The Doctor didn’t need to hear the four knocks coming from the chamber, radiation levels rocketing on the panel where Y/N stood. The Time Lord already knew what had to be done, it was his time, his song was ending. He didn’t think of the things he could do if he had the opportunity, because he knew his Y/N could do so much more. Brave to stand where she stood, facing all the dangers and the end of the universe itself.

“It’s an honour, Y/N.”

“Please, don’t.”

Just look over your shoulder

I'll be there

Always

In his last hours, he allowed himself to push the leaver inside the Tardis and see Y/N for the last time. He went way back, crippled by pain, and peaked outside the blue door, seeing his beloved one walking on the sidewalk, buried with notes, ready to study for the Latin exam she had forgotten about. In just a couple of hours, they would meet for the first time, only she didn’t know it yet. But he did – the burden of the Time Lords, wasn’t it?

“Please, look over your shoulder,” he pleaded, his voice at the point of breaking, sharp pain bending his back, deep brown eyes hidden behind tightly shut eyelids.

“Y/N, please. Please look over your shoulder.”

But she didn’t. The last thing he saw before shutting the Tardis’ door was the time machine of his past self and the Doctor’s head peaking onto the street. He envied him.

The younger Doctor looked over his shoulder, staring confusedly at a disappearing time machine. A feeling in his two hearts told him to visit the library nearby.

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uraharasandals · 4 years

Note

Hey could I have a request for Akutagawa and his female s/o also being work partners in the port mafia and her ability is fire, like Dabi from BNHA? Like it damages her body when she uses it cause she isn't immune to her own super strong flames? And angst and fluff?

Hi anon! First off, I know you requested angst and fluff but I'm sorry I went a bit overboard with the angst and there's probably zero fluff available here! Nonetheless, I hope you like it :) and it hopefully does stick to what you were looking for <3 feel free to request again if it doesn’t!

Also there’s apparently a formatting issue that prevents me from separating paragraphs. Just for clarity’s sake, I’ll add in // to show that it’s meant to cut off there.

He knew you were more than capable than taking care of yourself. That was one of the main reasons you caught his eye after all; he wouldn't even cast so much a glance towards the so-called 'strong', and definitely not the weaklings. Furthermore, you were to be his partner. The notion of doing otherwise would be ridiculous.

Akutagawa supposed that, at the beginning, your strength was what attracted him. And that was true; he didn't care for something so flimsy such as feelings. But as time passes, he felt...some kind of warmth from his chest whenever he looked at you. And somehow, he had became captivated. The flowing ink of your hair. The determined fire kindling in your eyes. The lithe form of your body, resembling that of a hunter as you fight. Most importantly, the outline and flash of flames as you release your ability, and the writhing form of the enemy in agony, before crumbling to ash. Beauty in its rawest form.

(People often say that Akutagawa was a ruthless killing machine with no regard for human emotion and aesthetics. That wasn't true. It takes a certain aesthetic to captivate him, and somehow, you were it.)

And captivate him you did. He always thought that fire had a strange beauty in it; a fiery flare of glory and then dying down just as quickly. Exactly the way he meant to be in battle; and the irony of his partner wielding flames as her ability did not escape him. He lives, he fights, and he dies. What more joy would a partner holding the same principles bring him?

Except, the irony of your ability was not felt much, much later.

It was a stupid thing. The most stupidest thing really, but he had been so accustomed to you watching his back and fighting alongside to him that he had no qualms about tearing his eyes away from you, and the lack of necessity to protect you made having a fighting partner so much more easier. Until Akutagawa - he who does not have faults in battle except the occassional temper and frequent coughs - stumbled, and somehow found himself surrounded, paralyzed. How did that happen, again?

And like an emergency flare, you came to his escape in a burst of fireworks, anger and worry taking over, successfully incinerating the enemies in columns of fire. What he did not expect, however, was you burning up as well.

" - gawa-senpai! Are you okay? I heard a scream - ________-san!"

Higuchi's gasp was as annoying as ever, but for once was he glad the woman was there; cradling your body, his mind was in such a state of shock that nothing made sense to him except the heat of your frame, much warmer than usual, as if your flames were coursing through your very own veins. Thankfully, your body was intact, but Akutagawa had been through enough battles to recognise first and second-degree burns when he saw them. His hands felt cold - probably so damn hot that his system couldn't handle the shock - but he ignored it. Because nothing mattered at the moment except reviving you.

For the first time, Akutagawa felt a sudden panic seize his heart.

"Akutagawa-senpai." Someone was shaking his shoulder. He was still in shock, looking at your limp form, the feverish red on your face, the patches of pink skin on your wrists where the flames were the strongest, the movement of your chest that reassured him that you were, at the very least, alive, the --

"Akutagawa-senpai. The medics are here."

He unwillingly let the medical team take you away, lifting your body onto a stretcher and carrying you onto a white van. What he only registered though, was your hand dangling over the side of the stretcher, the soft and warm skin that he had loved so much to caress and hold between his own now littered with burns and the red characterizing heat. For a split second, he thought he could see faint growing crimson lines where your veins were; another blink of his eyes told him it was his imagination.

"Akutagawa...senpai?"

Only Higuchi's quizzical face made him realise that he was still kneeling with his ears ringing, and his head full of confusion. Akutagawa stood up, stumbling slightly - but waving his assistant away as she surged forward to help him - and shook his head to clear his thoughts. Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the invading smell of smoke that just brought back memories of your burnt body, he cleared his throat, and spoke.

"I'm fine. You're in the way, Higuchi."

"I-I'm sorry, senpai!"

Annoyance. That was what caused a sharp surge of heat inside his chest, before he felt a stab of guilt. Ryunosuke! Treat her nicely, will you? For some incomprehensively stupid reason, your voice suddenly surfaced from the back of his mind, chiding his apparently 'distateful' behaviour towards his subordinate. How could you be so mean to a girl?!

Strange. He'd never really paid attention to how he treated Higuchi, not exactly. After all, she was a pawn of the Port Mafia and someone expendable. Besides, it didn't matter exactly how well or how bad he treated her, because it made no difference. But now, as he straightened up and glanced back, just slightly, he saw a flicker of hurt flash over Higuchi's face before she re-composed herself.

In that split second, he thought he heard you scolding him again.

Loneliness. For the first time, possibly since he was born, Akutagawa started to have a sense of hollowness spreading from his chest, and numbing the rest of his body. He wondered what it was, before a teasing remark by Tachihara gave name to it.

At first, he thought it was ridiculous. How could he feel lonely? But then, after staring at the never-ending pile of paperwork stacked on the desk in front of him, Akutagawa felt a sense of ache in his heart, and he couldn't concentrate on his work. Not any more. Not when all his head was full of was you.

Usually the go-to situation for anything remotely like this was to initiate a sparring session with someone, anyone in the Port Mafia. Or even in the Detective Agency, because despite their love-hate relationship, Akutagawa had to grudgingly admit that a fight with the man-tiger left him somewhat...more refreshed than before. But apparently, that solution wouldn't work today. Not just because of the fact that you were stuck in the Port Mafia hospital and he wouldn't want to go anywhere else (forcing him back into his office already took a ton of energy and he had Higuchi to thank for that, yet again), but also there was a sense of strange weariness clinging to his limbs, dragging him down and making him listless. The sense of tiredness reminded him of that time he fought with Chuuya, when he was hit by gravity and forced onto the ground. This wasn't like that either, though. At the time, he was pumped full of adrenaline (likely because it was in the heat of battle, but still) and was determined to get back up. Now, he felt like lying down and not getting up, not even to ease the strange ache in his chest.

Akutagawa wondered if there was something medically wrong with him, and whether he should head to the hospital for a check-up. However, instead of freaking out over him like she always did, Higuchi merely placed a cup of warm tea by his side, gathering some of his completed paperwork, before quietly slipping away. Oh well. If Higuchi thought it was no big deal, then surely there wasn't something too serious with him.

For the first time, he yearned for your presence next to him, in the office, by his side.

// "Ryunosuke, I recently figured out how to properly use my ability! Do you want to see it? I'm sure it'll be great in supporting you in battle."

"Later, ________. I need to finish a report for the Boss - "

"Sure! See you at the practice rooms then! I'll ask Higuchi-san to - "

To what? That was a long ago memory, and when Akutagawa came to he found that he was still at his desk, but head side down on the wooden surface. The blasphemy of falling asleep at work didn't even occur to him as he blinked sleepily, before realising the sun had gone down and it was dark outside. He shifted, attempting to sit up straight, before feeling the weight of something on his shoulders. A blanket. Someone must've snuck in, saw him all tired, and drapped a blanket over his shoulders.

And that someone had left a note at his desk as well, in Higuchi's neat handwriting. Before his brain could fully wake up, Akutagawa was already out of the door after skimming the message through once, bolting down the corridors to the hospital, with his mind full of, and only about, you.

______-san had waken up. You can go see her now.

He didn't notice the small darkened dots on the paper, already dried, but clearly discernible as tears.

"_________" The first thing that left his lips was your name, right after he burst through the doors like a madman. The hospital staff remained unfazed even from the commotion, and merely left the room silently, leaving him alone with you.

You. Akutagawa had been yearning for your touch ever since the day you were taken from him, but somehow at the sight of his partner bandaged up and confined to the bed he froze up, limbs suddenly uncooperative. At the sound of his banging around and the sudden departure of the medical staff, you weakly raised your head to see what was going on, before focusing your eyes onto the man in front of you. "Ryu....nosuke?"

The weakness in your voice made his heart felt like it was going to break into a thousand pieces, though he held it in with a swallow, before forcing himself forward. "It's me." Akutagawa perched cautiously onto the chair at your bedside, before mentally chiding himself for the lame reply. "H...how are you feeling?"

"Like I'm banged up in ten different parts of my body." Somehow, you still managed a weak smile in that kind of situation. "I'll be fine though. I heal soon."

He supposed you wanted to cheer him up, though the false sense of cheeriness was overwhelmed by the slight trembling in your voice. "You should rest. You were pretty hurt earlier on." Akutagawa insisted, and there was a weak chuckle letting itself through your lips. Looking at your severely injured state, he suddenly felt a surge of anger. "Hey, _____. Who amongst those bastards did this to you? I'll go back and hunt them down."

"No one did, Ryunosuke." Was it his imagination, or were your eyes strangely bright under the light? "It was me. My ability did this."

"Do you mean your ability defected - "

"No." You cut him off, and turned to look him full in the eyes. It wasn't his imagination then; your eyes were suspiciously bright, and a tear spilled over, trailing down your cheek. Before he knew it, Akutagawa had reached out to brush it away, and you caught his hand midway. "It's a stupid side effect. If I use it too hard, it'll come back to hurt me." He was startled at the sudden revelation, caught off guard and wasn't sure what to reply. Apparently you took that as his silent rejection, because your trembling hand had let go of his. "I know. It's a defect that rendered me weak and defenseless. I know you don't like people who are weak, Ryunosuke, so - "

Akutagawa wasn't sure what had came over him, but instinctively he had surged forward and kissed you. Maybe it was the habit of you doing so to shut him up endearingly that caused him to do so. Maybe he was trying to release that pent-up sense of exhaustion and frustration from the afternoon. And yes, maybe he was desperate.

When he finally pulled away, he saw that the sadness in your eyes had already given way to surprise, before a sense of love that he'd only saw when he was heavily injured or sick. Which was strange, because you were the one heavily banged up now, and yet...

"Thank you," You whispered, tears already spilling over onto the bandages. "I'm sorry."

At the feeble apology, Akutagawa felt his heart torn apart again, but the words struggle to get through his mouth, getting stuck in his throat and effectively choking him. So he didn't say anything of substance. Instead, he planted a palm onto your hair, patting it somewhat cautiously and hoping you wouldn't feel much pain. "Get some rest, ________."

#bungou stray dogs #bsd imagines #akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa imagines #bsd #Akutagawa #Fic #Anon #asks

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cherryonigiri · 5 years

Note

I too have an obsession with Ushijima (got a sideblog dedicated to him) so may I request the first time ushijima says “I love you”? Your writing is super amazingly fantastic btw :D

A/N: I am in the mood to binge write, so I shall binge write. Btw this is my way of warning y’all that college chemistry is difficult af. But enjoy fluffy/protective Ushiwaka :D

One-Shot: boyfriend!Ushijima, first time to say “I love you”

Word count: 1556

You stare out of the window, mindlessly stirring your iced coffee. Sighing, you turn back to the painfully difficult chemistry chapter sitting on the table in front of you. Damn you for having to take more chemistry in university. You’d thought you would be done with the cursed subject after graduating from high school, but oh no, that was very much not the case. Of course aspiring to be a physical therapist involved you having to, once again, torture yourself with molecules and complicated formulae. You’re working on one of your assignments and decided that a change of scenery could help you maybe internalize some of the content before the exam. And while you were quite good at the subject, you were distracted, reminiscing about your boyfriend.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the ace of your university’s volleyball team. You’d long been an avid fan of volleyball and had followed his career during your time in high school. Unlike him, you’d gotten into your university the regular way—exams. You never imagined that you would end up at the same school as him. By some miracle you’d gotten in, only to hear a few days later that the Ushijima Wakatoshi had also committed to the same school you were going to. You were elated and vowed to attend as many of the home volleyball matches as your schedule would allow.

You didn’t think he would notice you, but by chance, you had accidentally bumped into him while his team was packing up after a match. You’d manage to squeak out something resembling a greeting and to your surprise, he’d recognized you from his matches. “You’re the girl who usually sits next to the rest of the team in the stands,” he’d replied. “You cheer very loudly,” he added on. You’d blushed in embarrassment, squawked out some version of thank you and then scurried away.

That’s how it started, “accidentally” bumping into each other after matches (although he now fully admits that he would secretly wait for you outside the stadium after every game). Greetings and occasional compliments turned into longer conversations before parting ways at the bus stop, which slowly transformed into walks to the local coffee shop (the one you’re currently sitting in now) where you would have conversations over hot beverages late into the evening.

It was probably inevitable that you’d fallen. It just happened—one day you just had a realization that maybe, just maybe, you’d developed a pretty major crush on your university’s volleyball ace. Never in a million years did you think he’d feel the same, but for some reason, fate had smiled upon you. Through an awkward conversation, you’d both managed to confess your mutual feelings after the semi-finals of the winter inter-university tournament of your first year (in which Ushijima and his team had then proceeded to demolish all the other contenders for first place). Your weeks became a routine of seeing games, doing work, hanging out with friends, and date nights with Ushijima.

The spring after you’d started dating had been unusually chilly. You’d caught a nasty cold a couple days before the preliminaries for the spring volleyball season. Although you’d still went, your sore throat and lingering cough had put a damper on your usually obnoxious cheering. Sniffling with your runny nose, you’d made your way back to the locker room entrance (you were far too familiar with the layout at this point) only to find Ushijima looking almost angry. “What’s got you in such a bad mood Wakatoshi?” you teased, wincing at how hoarse your voice sounded (okay, so maybe you had gone a bit overboard with the cheering even though you were supposed to be resting your poor throat).

He seemed to stare at you for a while. “Why are you here?” he says, his deep voice rumbling through the crisp dusk air.

You were not expecting his reply. “What do you mean ‘why am I here’?” you splutter, struggling to comprehend why he seemed utterly pissed that you had attended his game.

“You were distracting me.” He was frowning now.

“Well I’m sorry I want to see my boyfriend” - cough - “and support him” - cough- “during an” - cough, cough- “important match,” -cough. “Give me a break will you?” you manage to add before falling to a particularly aggressive round of hacking up your lungs.

“That is not what I mean,” he murmurs, stepping closer to offer you a handkerchief. “You shouldn’t have come while you were sick y/n.”

“I’m fine Wakatoshi,” you groan before blowing your nose. “I’m already over the worst of it. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“I still think you should have stayed home to rest,” he grumbles and he wraps his scarf around your neck. You bury your face into the soft gray fabric to hide your blush. “I was worried about your throat with all that cheering you did.”

“I’m fine, Wakatoshi,” you manage to say exasperatedly before descending into another fit of coughing.

“You are most definitely not fine,” he growls. Your eyes widen, startled by how upset he sounds. He takes a few calming breaths before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you towards the bus stop. “I’m walking you home.”

You try to squirm out of his grip. “Wakatoshi you live on the opposite side of campus, it’ll be too much of a hassle. Just let me go home on my own.”

He stiffens and his arm around you tightens before bursting out into a yell. “GOD DAMN IT y/n! Can’t you just let me take care of you?” You’re spooked by the sudden increase in volume, unable to stop yourself from flinching. Ushijima pauses to look at you before taking a couple of deep breaths. “Sorry,” he says, loosening his grip on your shoulders. “I’m just very worried about you. Can you…” another deep breath, “….can you just let me do this for you? Please y/n?” You think you’re imagining the slight crack in his voice as he says your name.

“Fine. Don’t blame me when you get sick, Ushibaka,” you reply, sticking out your tongue. He chuckles and rubs a few reassuring circles into your shoulders.

“I’m not the one with a weak immune system, y/n. I won’t get sick from such a minor cold.”

“Yah! Ushijima Wakatoshi, stop mocking me I am a perfectly healthy woman in her twenties!” you protest, pouting at his teasing. The rest of your ride home is filled with shared banter and soft chuckles, the two of you smiling until you’re inside your dorm room.

When he finally has you tucked into bed after insisting you down a steaming cup of chamomile tea he smiles, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight y/n.”

“Noooo, Wakatoshi, can’t you stay for….a few more minutes?”

“We both know if I stay a ‘few minutes’ I’ll be walking home at one in the morning y/n.”

“Please, take pity on your sick girlfriend!” you wail, flailing around in your pile of blankets and pillows.

Ushijima sighs, amused by your sudden clinginess. “I love you y/n, but I need to get some sleep before morning practice.” And just like that, it happens. Nothing fancy - no fireworks in the distance or a candlelit dinner. It’s just the two of you in the evening, sitting in your dimly lit room filled with your old volleyball posters and ratty tapestries. The first time one of you has said ‘I love you.’ It’s not that you didn’t love him (you’d known very early on that your affection for him ran much deeper than a schoolgirl crush), rather it’s a realization that what you have is so tangibly real. Part of you wants to jump out of bed and run around declaring to the world that your dorky boyfriend loves you. But another part of you is just…content.

“Okay, okay. Go home Wakatoshi. Text me when you get back?” He nods, before standing to leave. You bite your lip and hesitantly follow with, “Love you too,” before squeaking and burying yourself under the covers. You think you hear a hearty laugh from him as the door slams shut. Your face is stretched into a grin and probably blushing madly right now, but you can’t help but let out a small giggle.

Ushijima Wakatoshi loves you. (And you love him back with just as much passion as he has for you.)

“I’d thought I’d find you here y/n.” A deep voice interrupts your pleasant trip down memory lane. Looking up you see Ushijima, now clad in a thick coat, with a few snowflakes sticking to his dark hair. “Shall we go home?”

“Sure,” you sigh, knowing that it’s highly unlikely that you’re going to get any more of your chemistry assignment done by tonight (you still have the weekend to finish it).

Packing up your notebooks and laptop, you grab your cup of chamomile tea and head out the door with him. The two of you walk back to your shared apartment down the street. In the crisp winter chill of your third winter together you pull him closer and press a kiss onto his cheek. “Love you,” you whisper in his ear. Ushijima just chuckles, lacing his gloved fingers through yours, “I love you too, y/n.”

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catchester · 4 years

Text

12 Days of Christmas

Title: Twelve Drummers Drumming

Authors: @evieplease and @catchester

Which character: Actor!Tom and OFC Rocky

Genre: Humour/Explicit

Fic Summary: Tom and Rocky spend their first Christmas as a couple and Rocky meets Tom’s Mum for the first time. Expect 12 gifts, too much boozy, bad puns and lots of fun!

Rating: Mature

Previous Chapters: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138390/chapters/40304798

AN: Well, we just scraped it in on the 12 night (as long as you don't live in the UK) and we have a special little epilogue planned, which we hope to bring you tomorrow.

Also, sorry for not tagging directly, but tagging seems to work much better for @evieplease than for me.

12 Drummers Drumming

When I told Tom to bring his guitar he knew I had something musical planned but I could see him becoming confused when the cab drove us away from the centre and towards Croydon. He held his tongue until we parked in a very nice new development of town houses and flats.

“Okay,” he said, looking around as he retrieved the guitar case from the boot while I paid. “I give up, why are we here?”

I just smiled and took his arm, tamping down my own nervousness, leading him to one of the new townhouses and ringing the bell. It was opened a moment later by slim, sandy blonde man in a black t-shirt and faded blue jeans.

“Rox!” he said with an enthusiastic smile, leaning forward for a cheek kiss. I never liked that nickname, but he was family so he got a pass . . . sometimes. And since he and Dave had allowed me to hijack their evening at the last minute, he definitely gets a pass tonight. Though I did wince at the name.

I turned to Tom, just in time to catch his smirk. I knew he was filing ‘Rox’ away in that prodigious brain to use in some future nefarious plan. I would, if the situation were reversed, after all! I warningly narrowed my eyes at him, and his smirk grew wider. He knew I couldn’t do fuck all about it at the moment.

I dragged myself back into the moment. I do want him to like my family, and my family to like him. Right, so.

“Tom, this is Ryan, my brother-in-law.”

Tom had to switch his guitar to shake hands but he professed he was pleased to meet him. He even managed a warm smile for Ryan, while shooting me a glare that promised retribution for not warning him that he was about to meet my family.

Ryan shook Tom’s hand and then froze, giving me wild eyed look as he twigged to Tom.

“Oh, Rocky you’ve outdone yourself! Dave is absolutely going to shit! I can’t believe you brought Loki home! No wait. Yes I can.” Dave shook his head and grinned at Tom. “Come on in, Tom, you’re just in time for the fireworks!”

Ryan offered to take our coats and Tom’s guitar.

“What can I get you to drink?” Ryan asked Tom, then listed off the wines they had available.

“Whatever’s open is fine,” Tom smiled, as we seated ourselves on the sofa and Ryan headed off into the kitchen. Tom grabbed my elbow and hissed in my ear as soon as Ryan was out of the room..

“You didn’t tell your family anything about me?? Rocky...”

“Sure I did, Tom! I told ‘em that you’re wonderful and kind and fun. You make me laugh and you like me. What else do they need to know?”

Tom’s eyes softened. “Rocky, you…” he shook his head, apparently speechless. But I knew better. I was sure to hear about it later.

I flashed him a cheeky smile as we sat down. “I just thought it was probably best not to give you time to get drunk before meeting my family,” I teased.

The glare he levelled at me was slightly spoiled by the smile he couldn't quite repress.

“You’re here!”

We looked to the doorway where my clone stood, assuming I was 6 inches taller and 60lbs heavier. He also had short hair but the family resemblance was uncanny.

“You must be Dave,” Tom said, rising from the sofa to greet him.

“I am indeed,” Dave grinned, shaking Tom’s hand genially. “And I’ve heard an awful lot about you. All good, of course.”

Tom turned and gave us both some serious side eye, looking back and forth.

“Have you met your sister?” he asked Dave.

Ryan clapped a hand over his mouth and did his best to stifle a giggle and letting out a small snort over madly twinkling eyes, while Dave laughed ruefully.

“Too true, but ‘All I know is that you have dodgy plumbing and work away sometimes’ doesn't really sound very polite.”

I stood to reach up and kiss Dave hello. “And that’s why you haven't met my family yet, Tom,” I glanced at him and teased. “Let me just apologise in advance for my brother.”

“Right,” Ryan said as he returned with three glasses of red wine and a bottle of beer for me. He’d been a bartender in college so he could juggle far more beverage than the average Joe. “Can’t you lot stop sniping at each other for just one night?” he teased us.

“Oh please,” I smiled. “You give as good as you get.” I’d always liked Ryan.

“Yes, but I find it’s best to break new people in gently.” He tilted his head at Tom in a ‘sorry, mate’ eye roll.

“Oh, don’t worry about Tom.” I waved an airy hand. “He’s so broken in I’ve ridden him hard and put him away wet many times now.”

Ryan nearly choked on his wine and Tom couldn't stifle his laugh.

“She speaks the truth,” Tom agreed. “Although she could learn a little tact.”

“That’s what I keep you around for,” I explained.

“Well, don’t stand on ceremony,” Ryan gestured to the sofa behind us and as we sat down I heard a small ‘ding’ emanating from the kitchen.

“I’m up, I’ll go,” Dave offered since Ryan had taken a seat too.

“I knew I could smell something delicious,” I said as Dave went into the kitchen to serve the nibbles. “Ryan’s a caterer,” I told Tom. “A very good one too.” He’d catered a few prestigious events so he was used to acting naturally around famous faces, although his events tended to be business and politics more than theatrical, but he’s told us all about meeting Stephen Fry at one of his events.

“I can’t believe he hasn’t noticed yet,” Ryan whispered.

“I know!” I whispered back. He’d understand once we took him upstairs.

Tom looked slightly nonplussed by the conversation but he turned to Ryan with a friendly smile and asked, “What are we having?”

“Well given what Rocky said about tonight, we’re just having a series of finger foods, starting with mini kebabs marinated in satay and hoi sin sauce. The satay is a teeny bit hot but nothing most people can’t handle.”

“Is it just us?” he asked.

“While introducing you to my family really should be a one at a time thing to avoid premature ageing, Dad and Paul are still in Florida.

“Well they may have sun, but we have hors d'oeuvres.” Dave returned with a serving plate of mini kebabs, two small pots of extra sauce in the middle. He put them on the coffee table then sat on the sofa opposite us, next to Ryan.

“Rocky tells me you work in Finance?” Tom said to Dave as he helped himself to a kebab.

I jumped in. “Dear god, Tom, don’t get him started, we’ll be hip deep in spreadsheets!”

“It’s a little more sophisticated than that,” Dave rolled his eyes.

“What Dave, I keep telling you that one and one are two. Two and two are four. It’s not hard.�� I teased him, tipping my glass at him.

Dave grinned back. “Bet you can’t tell me the square root of three, though!”

I opened my mouth and shut it. I had no idea. Dave took a sip of his wine and managed to look like the cat who got the cream.

Ryan laughed. “Do you want to tell her, or shall I?”

Dave toasted Ryan and snickered. “Be my guest.”

Ryan put a consoling arm around me. “Darling. Three is a square root,” he said gently.

“Well, shit.” The two men chuckled at me, but Tom winced. I knew he didn’t know, either. I flopped back on the sofa and scowled at my smartypants brother. For some reason Dave got all the maths in the family. Dad was right annoyed when he went into banking, instead of staying home and doing the books for the family plumbing business. But really, Dad’s very proud of Dave. And so am I, come to that.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Tom tried being more direct this time as he reached for another kebab and offered me the plate.

Those things were moreish and I was tempted to hold onto the plate and finished off the remains. Good manners won out however and I returned them to the coffee table.

“She didn't tell you?” Dave asked playfully.

“No, she didn't,” Tom levelled a narrow eyed glare at me. “Secrets abound tonight, it seems.”

It was time to put him out of his misery.

“It just so happens that although he wears a suit and tie, and has the world’s most boring job, in his spare time, my brother here happens to be a world-class drummer.”

“Hardly,” Dave blushed. “But I enjoy it.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s good. Really good, and I have the scars to prove it!”

“I can’t see any scars!”

“They’re all mental, dear brother.” I smiled sweetly and took a sip of my wine.

Ryan choked a bit. “Shall we get on then?”

“I thought you two could have a little jam session,” I told Tom.

“While Rocky and I will gaze on adoringly,” Ryan added, batting his eyelashes only slightly sarcastically.

“Oh no,” Dave shook his head. “If I have to play, you two have to sing.”

“I’m game,” I grinned. “Besides, we’re running low of kebabs,” I said as I popped the last one in my mouth.

“So,” Tom cleared his throat, “When do we start?” he said in his Loki voice, doing his best to suppress a smirk.

“All right,” Ryan stood up. “Let’s do this!”

Tom picked up his guitar from the hall and we all trooped upstairs. The Marvel posters lining the stairway and the upper landing didn't escape his notice and I could see the penny drop with regard to why Ryan as surprised Dave hadn’t recognised Tom.

“Who’s the Marvel fan?” Tom asked.

“That’d be me,” Dave answered. “Do you like the MCU too?”

“Well, I suppose you could say that, yes.” Tom blushed slightly but I don't think the boys noticed.

“I’ve got a collection of awesome memorabilia in the bedroom. I’ll show you once we’re done here, if you’re interested.”

“Are you indecently propositioning my boyfriend?” I asked innocently.

“No, but I do have a new life size cutout of Captain America that might tempt him away from you,” Dave fired back with a smirk.

Tom snickered. “I’m fairly sure that Rocky looks better in tights, mate! ”

“I can feel the righteousness surging! Let’s hear it for truth, justice, and the American way!” I did my best Loki impression, which was shite, but when I tried to walk backwards at the same time and nearly fell on my arse it got a laugh.

Tom lept forward and caught me. “Darling, that was pitiful! Are you sure you want to talk about our kinky bedroom habits in front of your brother,” Tom teased as we were guided into the music room.

“Our kinky habits?!” I tried to sound outraged.

Ryan laughed out loud. Dave narrowed his eyes..

“Wait, there’s an American Way?” He glared at Tom. “Just what the hell are you doing to my sister, mate??”

I clapped a hand over Tom’s mouth just as he opened it to tell Dave. “Now Tom, there’s no need to tell my brother just what you get up to in Captain America’s tights!”

Ryan held up a hand. “Right! That’s enough out of all of you! You’ll be giving Dave nightmares, and I need my beauty sleep!”

Tom didn’t let it go, though. He bent down and purred in my ear so just I could hear. “Don’t worry, darling, you will kneel for me later.”

Fuck me! My knees wobbled.

He, of course wandered off into the room without a care in the world leaving me feeling all hot and bothered on my brothers landing.

Bastard.

The largest bedroom had been turned into the music room and the walls were covered with some sort of soundproof foam. A large drum set took up about a third of the room, but there was also a keyboard against one wall, and a guitar propped up against it.

There were also two small sofas and a couple of stools, so obviously jamming sessions weren’t unheard of.

Tom looked around. “This is great, man!”

Ryan nodded. “Dave needed the space for his gear, so we use one of the smaller rooms for our bedroom.

“It’s a terrific set up!” Tom enthused. “Do you play the piano and guitar too?” Tom asked as he pulled his guitar out of its case and began to tune it.

“The guitar is mine,” Ryan admitted with a grimace. “I haven't been playing long, though.”

“The keyboard is something I keep meaning to learn,” Dave added. “Trouble is, the drums are just such good stress relief.”

“We’ve pretty much decided we’ll have to adopt some kids and fill out our band with them,” Ryan teased.

“The Osmond’s mark two,” I quipped.

“The family that plays together stays together,” Dave shot back, while Ryan clutched his head.

“Oh god no! Not the bloody Osmonds!

We all laughed.

“Go on then,” I gestured for Dave to play his drums as I took a seat on one of the couches. “I promised Tom drums, after all.”

“But what about the other eleven drummers?”

“Sorry. This is the discount 12th day. All the other drummers were sold out. All you get is Dave. But he can play Wipeout like he has twelve pairs of arms!”

“All right Oh, thanks very much, sister dear! No pressure there!” He sat behind his drum kit and looked surprisingly nervous. A few deep breaths, however, and he launched into the familiar opening bars of Wipeout. His hands and feet moved with a furious pace and at the correct time, Ryan jumped up and grabbed my hands and we both launched into a gyrating dance and sang along, sort of na-na-na-ing the missing electric guitar accompaniment. Tom joined in after a minute, riffing on his acoustic guitar. Who didn't know Wipeout?

At the end we all fell back, laughing and clapping. Tom got up and offered his hand for Dave to shake.

“I’ve got to say, I’m impressed.” He said that last in his slightly deeper Loki voice, but Dave was too busy blushing to notice.

“Thanks.” Dave had turned a bit pink around the ears. “It’s one of my favourites, so I’m very practised at it.”

“Very,” I agreed dryly.

Dave chuckled. “When we were kids I went a bit overboard one summer, obsessed with getting it right. One day Rocky got so fed up at hearing the same tune over and over she stormed into the garage and swore that if I ever played Wipeout again, she would get a gun and stab me to death.”

That story was one of the family staples now, Dave’ll be telling his grandkids one day about crazy, homicidal Aunt Rocky, no doubt!

“I’m not very coherent when I’m angry,” I shrugged. “And while we’re on embarrassing musical stories, I seem to recall you having a thing for Michael Jackson’s Man in the Mirror, only you kept singing, ‘and no moustache could have been any clearer’.”

Dave blushed again. “Oh please, I was only about 12 or something.”

“Yeah? I was 12 when you were driving me mad over wipeout, and you’re still telling the story!

Tom smiled and doing his Michael Jackson impression, carried the song on. “If you want to make the world a better place take a look at yourself and then make that... shave.”

We all laughed.

“Excuse me a second,” Ryan left the room.

“If you want to talk misheard lyrics, you can’t beat our dad,” I smiled at the memory. “You know that Abba song, Chiquitita? He always used to sing Chicken Tikka. ‘Chicken Tikka, tell me the truth’.” I sang.

“Our brother, Paul, has the best one of all time though,” Dave explained. “Everyone knows Bohemian Rhapsody but when Paul was about seven or eight, he kept singing, “Beelzebub has the devil for a sideboard.”

“Did you correct him?” Tom asked me.

“I was too young to, I didn’t know,” I explained. “And I think Dave enjoyed the fact he got it wrong.” I slanted a look at Dave. “In fact, I think Dave used to feed him wrong lyrics all the time. Remember ‘Scare a moose, scare a moose’?” I grinned.

“Bastard’s good at everything, I can’t enjoy the fact he fucks up such a well known song?” Dave growled. “I think he figured it out in his teens. I remember him being moody as fuck one day because his friends made fun of him for it. Now he knows better, but he does it just to annoy me.”

Ryan returned with a tray containing a selection of crispbread with various toppings, plus a pitcher of margaritas and 4 glasses. “Got to keep our strength up.”

“And our dutch courage,” I added.

“Absolutely! Citrus is good for the vocal cords, as well!” He grinned as he handed me a glass. “Right, what’s next?”

“Let’s do something we can all join in on,” Dave suggested. “Anyone know any Queen?”

“Not well enough to play without sheet music,” Tom admitted. “Unless, maybe Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”

“I love that one! It’s a great dance tune! What about it Ryan? I’ll take the low parts if you’ll take the high ones!”

“Deal!”

Mounted on the wall over the keyboard was a huge flat screen TV because Dave limed to practice with some musical accompaniment sometimes, and Ryan liked watching Youtube guitar tutorials. Oh, the things you can afford when you’re a DINK. For the uninitiated, that’s Double Income No Kids household, and Dave does not like being called that, but that’s mainly because he think’s the word dinky doesn't reflect well on his manhood. So of course I use it whenever I can.

Ryan turned the telly on and spoke his google search into the remote. They’re gadget freaks too. Just about every room has an Alexa. It wouldn't surprise me if she was even wired into some of their sex toys! EWW! No, no, nasty stray thought! Back to lyrics.

Even with the lyrics on screen, we still got some parts wrong because we were too busy trying to dance while seated and just generally hamming it up.

“I hear Adam Lambert might leave Queen and try going solo again. You should audition,” I teased Ryan.

He clasped his heart and uttered a gasp that would rival any of Ru Paul’s drag queens.

“Sacrilege!” he pointed at me. “Get this blasphemer out of my house this instant! Away, demon! By the power of Gay I command you, leave this place!”

We all laughed. His views on replacing Freddie Mercury were about on par with mine, only I wasn't quite so theatrical about it.

When we finally stopped laughing we continued disavowing any new iterations of Queen for a minute or two, then we discussed songs again.

“Hotel California,” I suggested, “Everyone knows that.”

“Not known for it’s drum solos, though,” Tom reminded me. “But if it’s for everyone,” he turned to Ryan. “Don’t tell me you haven't learned to play Hey Jude yet?”

“Well, it is one they usually teach beginners,” Ryan admitted.

“That’s a yes,” Dave explained. “Come on, if I have to perform, so do you.”

Tom handed Ryan his guitar and approached the keyboard.

“All right, I can take a hint.”

“How do you turn this thing on?” Tom asked, examining the keyboard.

“Need to turn it on at the plug.” Dave did it for him.

“My saviour is here,” Tom teased and Dave smiled. He got the marvel quote, he just hadn't had the second realisation yet.

Tom sat down and played a chord, which sounded like a church organ. He switched it to piano and tried again.

“There we go,” he smiled.

“Is this a Gibson?” Ryan asked, examining Tom’s guitar.

“It is,” Tom confirmed. “Beautiful instrument, you’ll love it.”

Ryan looked a little green around the gills and swallowed, probably understanding its worth. He slipped the strap around his neck despite already sitting down.

It had left me breathless for a moment when I realised how haphazardly I’d been slinging around a £2,000 guitar, but it had survived my laissez faire treatment, so I was fairly confident of its ability to survive Ryan’s playing.

Tom and Ryan played around for a few moments, familiarising themselves with their instruments. “Ready?” I asked when they quietened.

They nodded and I counted to four then began. We’d sung this fairly often as kids. Dad had an accordion and Hey Jude was one of his favourites, so I was fairly confident the words would come back to me. If not, I didn't expect to be the only one singing, someone else would pick up my slack.

There’s something about hey Jude, it just sort of unites people, like a world war two knees-up around the piano or something, except a totally different style.

Usually I thought the na na na nas went on a bit long for my tastes but I’d have been happy carrying on longer tonight. The final note held for four beats, then we all clapped.

“That was brilliant!” Ryan gushed.

“It was! We should form a cover band! We could call it Duvet!”

“Dung Beatles more like,” I joked.

“Scarabs, if you don’t mind, Tom said loftily.

“Oh we’re in treble now, boys!”

“Speaking of the Osmonds, and given geek boy here’s comic book addiction, we could be The Ozymandias… ians?”

“Not the snappiest name,” Ryan laughed.

I took a sip of my drink and helped myself to one of the last crispbreads.

The evening continued in a similar vein with Ryan regularly bringing fresh treats and drinks to keep us nourished and hydrated.

We played, drank, ate and sang for a good couple of hours.

Tom dropped a few more Loki hints but it seemed my brother was determined to remain as dense as Thor [Love it!]. Then Tom suggested Immigrant Song. It actually sounds really good on an acoustic guitar and Dave was able to provide drum backup, but I have no idea if he was true to the original or not.

Tom handled most of the lyrics but Ryan and I join in on the bits we knew—basically the ah-aah-aaaah-ah bits. Turns out Ryan can get that bit really high when you pinch him at just the right moment! When the song finished We were all smiling.

“I’d never really paid much attention to the lyrics before, but that stuff about hammer of the gods and what not, I can see why they used it for Ragnarok.”

And then I could literally see the penny drop as I watched the colour drain from Dave’s face. It was enough to gladden a sister’s heart!

“Wait, you— You’re not—? Holy fuck, you are!”

We all cracked up laughing, Ryan even clapped.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Dave rushed on. “It’s just with the ginger and the glasses and the tan you’re so. . . and with the black and pale skin he’s so. . .”

Poor Dave. I was going to pay for not warning him earlier but it’s a sister’s job to torture their siblings. And honestly, I really did think he’d recognise Tom instantly. He even had a Loki action figure for Christ’s sake!

“Sorry, mate. It’s all Rocky’s fault, you know” Tom ticked his chin at me.

I clutched my chest dramatically. “Under the bus! I can’t believe you pushed me under the bus, Tom!”

“Yes, well, I needed company under here, didn’t I?”

Ryan turned to Dave and slipped an arm around his waist. “They’re well matched, don’t you think?” They both turned to look at us. I stuck my tongue out at them.

Dave snorted, looking at Tom with pity and shaking his head. “Poor sod.”

Tom wrapped his arms around me from behind. “I know. But I like a challenge…”

I rubbed my arse against Tom and reached back to pat his bum. “It’s alright. He’s well up to the job!”

Dave groaned. “I’m going to need brain bleach after this night,” he muttered.

“Why don’t you play us some Hank Williams,” I suggested, to give Dave a chance to recover a bit.

Tom played Move it on Over which we didn't know but on the choruses we could just echo him and be his backup singers. Everyone knows Hey, Good Lookin’, of course, and then he sang Your Cheatin’ Heart, which we knew from Patsy Cline (our dad was a fan) but the words were the same so we joined in. Dave had even recovered enough by then to back him up on the drums.

After that Ryan and I managed to do Chasing Cars together. He’d been teaching himself the tune and I’d been obsessed with that song it first came out. Then Tom and Dave were forced by popular demand to play In the Air Tonight, and Dave made the most of his drum solo, expanding it.

“Couple of kids I went to school with had that song as their first dance at their wedding,” I laughed as I clapped. “I sat there trying not to giggle as they gazed into each other’s eyes while Phil sang, well if you told me you were drowning, I would not lend a hand.”

“Okay,” Dave held up his hand. “Worst first song to play at a wedding, winner gets the first serving of Ryan’s sinful sticky toffee pudding. Go!” he pointed at Tom.

“Uh . . . U2, I Still Haven't Found What I’m Looking For.”

His suggestion was greeted with a mixture of laughter and wincing ‘Ooh!’s

“Rox,” Dave pointed at me. “And no, you can’t say Phil Collins!”

“Ummmm . . . My Chemical Romance, I Don’t Love You Like I Did Yesterday!”

“Ryan.”

“Don’t Marry her, Have Me, by The Beautiful South.”

“You turn,” I told Dave.

“Lady Gaga, Bad Romance.”

Then the suggestions were just flying and I could hardly keep up with who was suggesting what.

Tainted Love by Soft Cell, D.I.V.O.R.C.E. by Tammy Wynette, The Human League’s Don’t You Want Me Baby... Jar of Hearts... What’s Love Got to Do With It?... You Give Love a Bad Name

You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling... Another One Bites the Dust... Highway to Hell... I’m All Out of Love, anything by Adele, You’re So Vain… You Can’t Always Get What You Want... I Will Survive... Gold Digger by Kanye,

“No, I’ve got it,” Tom cut in. “Engelbert Humperdinck and Please Release Me, Let Me Go.”

“Step back!” Dave said.

“We have a winner!” Ryan finished for him. Everyone clapped and cheered.

We adjourned back to the living room for dessert, Dave and Ryan going off hand in hand to the kitchen to fetch it. They’ve been together for about five years now, and it’s good to see they’re still just as lovey and gooey as they always were.

Tom pulled me down onto his lap on the sofa, making me giggle and squirm just as the boys returned with the sticky toffee.

Ryan handed me a double sized portion on a single plate, and went to sit on Dave's lap with theirs.

Tom moaned out loud when I fed him a spoonful, and everybody cracked up. Except Tom, who was too busy having a food orgasm.

“That’s brilliant stuff, Ryan! Can I have the recipe?” I nodded my head frantically, my mouth too stuffed with deliciousness to speak.

Ryan chuckled as he fed another spoonful to Dave and listened to his own moan of appreciation.

“Nope. You’ll have to come back if you want more!”

Dave chimed in. “Oh yes, please do Tom! You can even bring my sister with you, if you must!” He leaned in confidentially, “Ryan only makes it for company, you see. It’s the only time I get it!”

Ryan rolled his eyes at Dave and turned his attention back to Tom. “But I’ll send the rest home with you, if you like.”

Tom popped the last bite into my mouth and shoved me off his lap, standing abruptly. “It must be getting awfully late! Don’t you think so, Rocky?” He stretched and yawned ostentatiously.

“Oh, um...yes.” I looked at my bare wrist. “Will you look at the time! I’ll just go get the rest and we’ll be off, shall we?”

Ryan laughed and shook his finger at us. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning on doing with my sticky toffee, you naughty things! Tell you what, I’ll even give you an extra pot,” he winked.

Dave thumped his head on Ryan's shoulder. “Ryannn,” he whined, “that’s my sister!”

Ryan turned his head and dropped a kiss on Dave’s head. “Oh like you aren’t planning something naughty for the extra piece I kept!”

Dave leapt up. “Here, let me help you with your coats! So sorry you can’t stay longer!”

Despite being hustled out we had hugs and kisses all around, and plenty of laughter.

“I like your brother. Ryan too. They’re nice chaps.” Tom said later as he was hanging my coat at his front door.

“Yeah Dave’s not bad. He got bloody lucky with Ryan, and he knows it too. Now, where’s that pudding? I have things to do with it!”

The smile on Tom’s face broadened into a leer. “Do you?”

“Yep. I have to give my boyfriend his just desserts for being such a good sport tonight.” I reached for the carrier that Ryan had given us, but Tom lifted it high over my head teasingly.

I narrowed my eyes at the bag. Nah. Too high. Well, if Mohammed can’t get to the mountain, the mountain will have to come to Mohammed!

“I’m not jumping for it!” I stamped my foot.

“But darling, it does such charming things to your...charms when you jump!”

I took a couple of steps back, and started to peel my jumper off. “Oh, I think my charms are fine just the way they are.” I reached back to undo my bra strap and the rustle of the bag hitting the floor signalled my victory. Darting under Tom’s arm as he lunged, I swiped my prize and scrambled for the sofa, holding the bag behind my back.

“To the victor go the spoils,” I grinned.

“Too right,” Tom smiled. “Looks like I win either way…”

I glanced down at the girls. My bra had slipped down under one boob and the shoulder straps had come down to bind my elbows. Well, damn.

Tom strolled in front of me, reaching a finger out to push my bra the last bit off my other boob. I could have easily struggled out of my bra, but Tom looked so happy, what the hell.

Still being in possession of the bag, I raised my head defiantly. “You want my pudding?” I asked.

“Darling, I would love your pudding. Name your price?”

“Hmm,” I pretended to think aloud. “Nice newish car on the driveway… Decent bank balance… Lots of designer gear… Hmm… I want…” I drew it out. Maybe there was a little bit of drama queen in me. “... A kiss.”

“One kiss?” he clarified and I nodded. “One single, solitary kiss?” I nodded again. “That sounds easy enough, deal.”

“Oh, I may have forgotten to, mention, this kiss has to make my toes curl and forget my own name.”

“Is that all?” he smirked. “I think I can oblige.”

Tom knelt on the floor, carefully taking the bag from my hand and setting it on the side table. He lifted his warm hands to cup my boobs, and I'm honestly not sure who moaned. His hands slid smoothly down my ribs to the waistband of my jeans and deftly undid them, pushing them down and helping me step out.

He nuzzled at the junction of my thighs and made a deep humming sound. Abruptly he stood and slung me over his shoulder. I shrieked as he grabbed the dessert bag and strode off to the kitchen.

He set me down on the edge of the table and opened the bag. “Now, let’s see what we can do with this…”

I opened my mouth to tell him just what he could do with it, but he beat me to it, sliding a finger full into my mouth and following it with his tongue. This time we both definitely moaned. God, the silky toffee flavours, combined with Tom’s tongue? Nirvana!

We giggled and fought a bit over the morsel, Tom trying to steal it back, but he conceded it at last and he let me swallow.

Putting a hand between my breasts he pushed me slowly back to lie on the table. I blinked up at him, still trussed helplessly in my bra, and licked my lips.

“Now I have you just where I want you, my pretty!”

I rather thought that I had him just where I wanted him! The bag rustled and he was dripping caramel sauce over my boobs with a maniacal grin. God, it’s cold! I shivered.

“Thank Christ he didn't make rice pudding!” I joked as Tom drizzled more toffee sauce over my nipple.

“But baked Alaska might have been fun!” Tom suggested.

“Thanks, we’ve done that—” My words cut off as Tom’s hot mouth wrapped around my nipple, sucking the sauce off and leaving me nearly dizzy with want.

Tom stood back to admire the artistic swirl of sauce he’d left on my body, and fortunately for him, to take his clothes off. I growled at him for taking so long and opened my mouth to scold him, but he popped another bite of the sticky stuff into my mouth.

“Hush now, Rocky! None of your lip, I’m busy!”

He planted a large hand on my torso and began to very delicately lick up all the sweetness from my body. Oh god, he was driving me mad.

Heat was flowing through my body, making me squirm and I felt Tom’s chuckle vibrating on my skin. When he lifted my hips and took a long lick and swirl around my clit I nearly came off the table.

Then Tom was pushing into me at last, leaning over me to kiss me as he thrust into me, rocking us both on the table. I could feel the coil inside me tightening and tightening, Tom’s breath harsh in my ear.

“Fuck, Rocky!” Tom’s burning eyes stared into mine and I couldn’t look away. His hand went between us, and at the first press of his fingers I exploded with a scream. Tom shouted along with me and I felt the hot wash of his release, both of us still grinding into each other the last little bit of pleasure.

“Oh,” I sighed, getting my breath back. “Thanks for pudding up with me.”

Tom chuckled at the awful pun. “I think you’re flan-tastic, Rocky.”

I groaned. “You know what this means,” I said with gravity.

“What?”

“We need a bath now.”

“But you’re cleaning the table!”

23 notes · View notes

theboyz-engup · 5 years

Text

New Kids

pairing: student!hwall x reader

word count: 2k

requested: yes

---

Settling into class was the usual. Your friends and you were separated early on in the semester, your teacher clearly thinking you the problem group. It wasn’t that you didn’t do any work, you just talked a lot and that wasn’t a crime. Sometimes, you just really had something to say. Other times, gossip overtook your ears and mouths. Though, you supposed that was also something to say, even if it’s not very constructive.

Still, nothing had changed. Your uniform was pressed new, hoodie overtaking your arms and waist. Now that school had begun bleeding into the colder months, you’d taken to the thick material and used it as a way to shield yourself from everyone around you. On days like today, you rather be left alone with your headphones in and class never starting.

It sure did seem like the world was working against you when your teacher, Mrs. Kwon, strode into class, someone on her heels.

With her presence, it was hard for people not to quiet down when she walked into a room. There was something hardened about her, though it wasn’t mean or unfriendly. You wouldn’t want to start a fight with her, stocky build and witty tongue to match no fair opponent for anyone; but that didn’t mean unfriendly. Sometimes, you would find yourself lingering after class just to chat with her about dumb things, glad she didn’t dislike you.

She gave the room a look over and then proceeded to point to the empty desk beside you. “That’s your assigned seat, Mr. Heo. I trust it’s to your liking.”

You gave the boy next to her a long hard stare. It didn’t matter that you were staring much, he was coming to sit in your empty desk- the one reserved for anyone but a real person- and everyone knew how you felt about that. Slowly, you shifted your books and large binder back over to your own desk, unhappy with the task but happy to see a new face.

At least one that was as pretty as his.

Mrs. Kwon made her little comment about the seat being to his liking and, instead of some sort of reply back, the boy gave a small smile and nodded. His eyes were small and shaped like thin almonds, with a long nose between them. A small shadow cupped his bottom eyelashes, as if fatigue was something that permanently plagued him but he worked it. You, for one, loved it. There was something about racoon eyes that made you feel like there was more to someone’s story. His face was small, something you knew people seemed to like, with soft cheekbones.

Cat, you decided, giving yourself a nod as he slid into the seat beside you. It was a habit of yours to assign animals to people. Your best friend was a penguin and the other resembled an owl and the other a turtle. From the way the boy beside you smiled though, you could definitely see cat. There was no mistaking it.

As he sat, he gave you a small smile and a nod. You supposed you didn’t look all too inviting, with your hood still on and a line across your lips. Without knowing it, you pressed a little grin back and faced the front. He was beautiful, yes. Slender and tall, with proportions for the gods, but now wasn’t the time to assess him. You were in class and had some English to learn.

----

Mrs. Kwon spoke briefly before break started, giving announcements about in class president elections and a few other things. The boy, who’s name was Hyunjoon, seemed to be very attentive at first but then, slowly, his energy dropped. He was awake, yes, but present in the room? You doubted it.

The moment Mrs. Kwon slipped away, you found yourself turning to him.

“Hi.” Embarrassingly enough, it was the only opener you could think of. Trying to save yourself from the look on his face, you extended your hand and said, “I’m y/n.”

Politely, Hyunjoon took your hand and shook it once, his grip soft. “Hyunjoon.”

“Is this your first day here? Or did you just transfer from another class?” The answer to the question was one you already knew but you wanted to make him comfortable. Sure, beginner questions weren’t always the best but you supposed they might help break the ice bit by bit.

“No, I’m a new student,” he murmured, voice low but not meek, “I moved here about a week ago so after getting settled, I started going to school again.”

Funny how a pretty boy could make your mood start to slip away.

“Oh,” you perked up, hoodie slipping a bit from your head as you propped your elbows up on the desk, palms facing up so you could rest your chin in the cradle they made. “Where’d you move from? I was also a transfer student way back when.”

“South Hamlet. My feeder school was LPS Academy, if you know it?”

You blinked a bit before smiling. “Y-yeah, I do. That was also mine, I used to live there.”

This made Hyunjoon perk up. Instantly, he became more open, glad to meet someone who knew where that was. You couldn’t lie, you wished you knew someone who knew of your hometown as well. It was far and completely different to everywhere else. Each Friday, there were mini festivals depending on the season. Summer and fall always had farmer’s markets and street food, whereas spring had your annual lantern lighting. Winter was your favourite though. Your hometown was in a little pocket where very little snow fell but, when it did, it felt like a wonderland. Plus, winter held your best memory. Thinking about it now, compared to where you currently lived, a pang in your heart came along. You never realized how much you missed it there.

“We still do that,” he mused, sighing a bit as you mentioned the fireworks that are set off every independence day, “recently though, they aimed one of the fireworks wrong and it shot into Oaky and almost cracked one of its branches off.”

The tension that was previously in his shoulders seemed to melt away as he turned more to face you. Seeing him so open like this, glimmer in his previously guarded eyes, you found yourself feeling much better. Familiarity was your favourite feeling and, somehow, he felt like home. He held South Hamlet in his soul and carried it around with him.

You snickered, shaking your head. “Oaky is so old, I don’t know how they didn’t do that before.”

Joon opened his mouth to say more but the bell took the sound away. Seemingly disappointed at the next teacher waltzing in, Mr. Burns looking especially cross today, Hyunjoon settled back into his seat and faced forward. Despite yourself, you leaned towards him and whispered, “let’s have lunch together, yeah? I want to know more about how home’s doing.”

The smile he gave you then was genuine, short nod the only confirmation you needed.

---

You showed him the ropes of the cafeteria, telling him which ones would give more food if you asked politely. Making sure to acquaint him with Jisoo and the rest of your friend group, you sat across from each other and began your little conversation.

“You know so many people here,” he mentioned lightly, looking around as he took his seat.

A shrug fell from your shoulders, hands tugging at the sleeves of your hoodie to pull them forwards. “I’ve been here since grade nine so it came naturally, I guess. But I get what it feels like to be you, I was new to my elementary school.”

He looked a bit shy, giving a nod. “There was also a new kid in my school but we ended up being close friends. His name is Bomin, maybe you know about him?”

Feeling a bit disappointed in not knowing every kid from your town, you shook your head. The hopefulness in Hyunjoon’s eyes faded a bit but none of the happiness did. Secretly, you wished he felt just as comfortable with you as you did him. He seemed eager to open up though and you continued to press about multiple things, wondering how everything was doing. You hadn’t been to visit family in such a long time that updates felt necessary- or maybe you just wanted to hear him talk more.

“My favourite is also the winter festival,” he said, looking extraordinarily excited. “Not a lot of people really love it but I always remember it the most.”

This piqued your interest, leaning forwards on your arm as you listened to him speak when asking why. It seemed second nature to forget your surroundings when you spoke to him, everything else consumed by the thin framed boy and the way his eyes disappeared when he giggled.

“It’s going to sound dumb since it happened a really long time ago but both elementary schools had this field trip on Friday to the centre square and we were meant to explore. All the kids had decided on doing this snowball fight and it was fun at first.” He trailed off here, giving pause. It was enough for you to start losing his smile, wondering if- could he be-?

Jisoo and Hana sat on either side of you in bed, your sleepover going well. In your hand, you held the little green hat and smiled, finishing your story lightly. “He led me home. He didn’t have to but he did.”

“Would be kinda romantic if you met each other years later, don’t you think?” Hana crooned, getting a far-off and misty look in her eyes. You smiled lightly, not wanting to meet her eyes as you ran your thumb across the rim of the hat.

“I doubt that’ll happen,” you decided, not wanting to get your hopes up. You didn’t want to seem overly enthusiastic about it. “I don’t live there anymore and people hardly move.”

“You did,” Jisoo pointed out, arching up her eyebrows. All you gave her in return was a smile before you got up and softly placed the hat back on your desk.

Hyunjoon’s voice ripped you from your memory, story continuing lightly. “All the boys kind of ganged up on this one group of friends and all of them scattered except one. They just stopped and tried to hide their face from the snowballs until they decided to run and they just kept running.

“I had to yell for the boys to stop chasing them until I caught up to them. This kid was just there, sitting on a staircase and crying their eyes out. I guess I looked familiar because, when they saw me, they tried to take a step forward.”

Something about his little chuckle here seemed bashful, but it was enough to make your heart stop. “I think I was scared so I just started to run away, back towards the square. They yelled, asked me to wait up. They were lost. So, every few steps I would run and then wait, looked back to make sure they were following and then kept going.

“I took them all the way home,” he said lightly. It was hard to stop your heart from beating and you hoped- prayed the surprise wasn’t clear on your face. When you gave a look to the side, you saw Jisoo bearing her eyes deep into you. She was also listening. She also knew.

“And when I got there, paused outside of their apartment, I-”

“Gave me your hat,” you finished, watching him get caught off guard, “it wasn’t a winter hat, just a green baseball cap with black writing on the band. It says ‘happiness’ on it.”

Both you and him paused. You wondered if he also had his heart in his throat, barely able to breathe but trying your best to.

“That was you,” he murmured. You couldn’t help but repeat his words, meaning it a completely different way. Hana’s words dripped through your memory once more and you found yourself smiling.

Fate was a funny thing.

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isitgintimeyet · 5 years

Text

The Ties That Bind

AO3

So here’s the final chapter. Thank you for reading , liking, reblogging and commenting. The response has been more than I ever imagined.

thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta, support and encouragement

Chapter 32: A Welcome Home

"How do you spell love?" asked Piglet. "You don't spell it, you feel it," said Pooh.

A. A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

“Sassenach, can ye pass me the milk, please?”

Claire reached across the breakfast table awkwardly with her left hand and passed the milk to Jamie. She watched the simple diamond solitaire ring as it glistened in the light with her movements. Jamie chuckled.

“Are ye no’ tired of lookin’ at it yet, Sassenach?” Jamie captured her hand and lifted it to his lips.

“I am sorry, Sassenach. That wasna how I was plannin’ it wi’ no ring and an audience of lawyers. But I couldna help it. I’d been wantin’ tae do it fer months and there, in that office, I couldna wait any longer. I dinna care who knows what ye mean tae me. I want everyone to know that I want tae marry ye, Claire Beauchamp. I dinna care what Geneva or her blasted mother have tae say about it. I dinna care about rockin’ the boat. Nae more game playin’ or hidin’, nae more emotional blackmail. Me askin’ like that, well, it jes’ came out… but ye ken it was straight from ma heart.”

Claire moved round to Jamie and sat in his lap, winding her arms around his neck. He gave a mock groan of pain as she adjusted her bottom on his thighs and received a playful slap in retaliation.

“I know and I’m glad you asked. But it makes for an interesting story… how many people receive a marriage proposal with lawyers as witnesses? Just imagine if I had to sue you for breach of contract? You would never stand a chance! Did you have it planned, though? Did you think how you would ask me?”

“Aye, I thought about it a lot. I always imagined a picnic somewhere near Lallybroch, perhaps that wee glen I showed ye, or mebbe where we watched the fireworks, remember?”

Claire blushed slightly at the memory of that Hallowe’en party - the fireworks lighting up the night sky while Jamie’s hands ignited a flame deep within Claire’s core, the noise of the spectators drowning out her moans and cries of pleasure, the two of them only returning to the house once the guests had departed. Whilst not exactly a ‘walk of shame’, her wayward curls and lips swollen from kisses had left Jamie’s family in no doubt as to the reason for their disappearance. The fact that her black lacy knickers had been residing in Jamie’s trouser pocket at the time, fortunately, was not so obvious.

And now, judging by the insistent hardness against Claire’s thigh, Jamie was also thinking back to that evening.

“James Fraser, please!”

Jamie grinned as Claire stood up. “Not now… you know we have to be at Ned Gowan’s office by ten. Aren’t you nervous about the meeting today?”

“I dinna think I am, Sassenach. Since meeting wi’ Ned, I feel like a weight has been lifted. I ken there’s a way forward. What’s the worst that could happen? Geneva willna agree to our plan and we have tae go tae court. I have enough witnesses tae say William is mine and a DNA test would prove it. Fer the first time, I have the upper hand.”

***************

For all his confidence at breakfast, butterflies were gathering in Jamie’s stomach as he and Claire waited in the reception for Ned Gowan to appear. Unable to sit still, he wandered over to the large windows and stood watching the people, small as ants, on the pavement below.

Claire watched him. Even after all these months together, the sight of him still sometimes managed to take her breath away. From an objective point of view, he was, in the word of Geillis, “a rare hunk of a man”, the breadth of his shoulders accentuated by his charcoal grey suit jacket, the light through the window setting his auburn curls ablaze. But, more than that, he was a genuinely good soul. Not perfect by any means, but generally thoughtful and considerate… and he loved her. Loved her as she was, not how she could be in the future, or if she only tried harder.

Claire actually felt a momentary pang of sorrow for Geneva. She had had a relationship with Jamie, experienced all these qualities and then he was gone. It was hardly surprising she had wanted him back. But then, as she thought about Geneva’s actions over the past few months, Claire's sympathy instantly disappeared.

“Mr. Fraser? Mr. Gowan is ready for you now, in conference room one.”

Jamie returned to Claire’s seat, and bent to kiss her cheek. His hands felt clammy as she squeezed them. “It’s going to be fine, remember? Upper hand?” She whispered. “I’ll be here when you’ve finished.”

“Cup of coffee while you wait?” The receptionist took pity on Claire, nervously chewing her lip as Jamie disappeared into the conference room.

Claire nodded and moved to the window, looking for distractions. Reflected in the glass she could make out three people heading for the reception desk- an older lady, a man in a dark pinstripe suit and Geneva.

“Miss Dunsany to see Mr Gowan.” Geneva’s voice sounded loud and confident.

The older lady, the infamous Louisa, Claire presumed, spoke in a low voice, too quietly for Claire to hear.

Geneva’s response reached Claire’s ears perfectly clearly. “Mummy, no. You stay here and wait. Don’t fuss, I’ll be fine.”

********

Waiting in the conference room, Jamie relaxed a little as Ned recapped on the proposal and the steps to be taken depending on the outcome. Clad in a blue and brown Prince of Wales check three piece suit, with burgundy bow tie and pocket square, he still didn’t look to Jamie like a successful and feared lawyer, but as long as he got results, Jamie couldn’t care less.

Ned stood up courteously as the door opened and Geneva and her lawyer walked in. Jamie automatically followed suit. Just six weeks after giving birth and Geneva looked to be back to her pre-pregnancy figure. Not that Jamie cared. Any lingering shred of friendly affection that he held for her had evaporated in the four weeks since he had seen his son. He would be civil, but he doubted that he could ever really forgive her.

Ned greeted the arrivals as if he was welcoming them to his home. “Mr. Grant, good to see ye ag’in. Miss Dunsany, how nice tae make yer acquaintance. Would ye care fer any refreshments? No? That’s grand. So I suppose we may as well start.”

The butterflies in Jamie’s stomach started up with renewed vigour. He now severely doubted John and his assurance that Ned was a killer in court. He seemed more like a benevolent uncle welcoming guests for afternoon tea. He looked across at Geneva. Her face bore a slight smile, as if she knew already that Ned would be a pushover for her charm. His eyes flicked across to her lawyer, already swallowing nervously… or maybe John had been right.

“I presume ye have read ma client’s proposal tae end this situation…” Ned began.

“Yes, and…” Mr. Grant spoke hesitantly.

“Excuse me, Mr. Grant, I hadna finished wi’ ma introduction. I trust ye are no’ sae precipitous in all aspects of yer life. As I was saying, ma client feels that this is a reasonable plan providing reasonable access tae his son and involvement in decisions regardin’ said child”

There was silence in the room.

“Ye may speak now, Mr. Grant.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gowan. My client has read this proposal and has raised several issues with its contents. Primarily, that with no defined parental responsibility, Mr. Fraser is in no position to be dictating access, or any other arrangements, concerning Miss Dunsany’s child.”

Ned sat back in his chair, looking relaxed. “Ah yes, parental responsibility. Ye are correct. All this proposal presupposes that Mr. Fraser here is named as the child’s father on the birth certificate, which at present he is no’. Let’s no’ play games here. We all ken that Mr. Fraser is Master William Dunsany’s natural father. We could all agree now tae have the birth certificate amended and continue nicely discussing the custody arrangements today or we could close this meeting now and continue in court. Let them decide. In which case, we would be able tae provide numerous witnesses tae support his claim and would be requesting a DNA test.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Gowan?

“Och, nay, lad. I dinna ever threaten. I merely promise. And I promise, in that court I would pose all these questions tae yer client, under oath, and would remind her that perjury is a crime that the legal system takes verra seriously. Now, would ye care fer some time wi’ yer client tae reconsider yer position?”

*************

As Claire sat trying to read the newspaper, nervously awaiting the outcome of the meeting, she became aware that she seemed to be under intense scrutiny. She looked up to find Louisa clearly staring at her and making no attempt to hide this.

“So, you’re the girlfriend, then?”

Claire instantly realised that Geneva’s personality traits were a reflection of her mother’s. She marvelled that Isobel had somehow managed to escape this family resemblance.

“I’m Claire Beauchamp.” Claire replied in the same curt tones. Part of her wanted to correct Louisa, to inform that she was actually Jamie’s fiancée, not just a girlfriend, but that seemed too childish… satisfying but petty. There were other ways to deliver that message.

“And you’re a doctor, are you?” The interrogation continued.

“Actually, I’m a consultant orthopaedic surgeon.”

“So, how long have you been together then?” Louisa was relentless.

“Why?” Claire spoke coldly.

“And your ‘relationship’,” Louisa continued, emphasising the word with distaste. “Is it serious?”

“I don’t believe that is any of your business.”

“It is undoubtedly my business when it affects my daughter and my grandson. Did you not feel some moral obligation to step aside months ago?”

Claire inhaled deeply and thought for a moment before speaking calmly, in measured tones. “How can you speak about morals to me after the way you and your daughter have behaved? I cannot tell you how your daughter has acted towards me the past few months, how low she would stoop to get what she wanted. She has been relentless in trying to break Jamie and I up with no thought for anybody but herself, no thought for other people’s feelings, no consideration even for the impact on your grandson. And, what has it brought her? Nothing… You know what, I pity her.”

Louise appeared shocked at Claire’s last comment and started to interrupt. Claire held her hand up to stop her and continued.

“Yes, I pity your daughter… please tell her that. Make sure to let her know. Her desperate and pathetic games, which you knew about and wholeheartedly supported, have brought us here, and maybe even to court. And you both deserve it. So, don’t feel you have some superior right to question me... either of you. It will not work. I owe you no explanations, no discussions... And now, please allow me to drink my coffee in peace.”

Claire reached for her coffee cup… with her left hand. It was awkward, but she was improving with all this left handed activity.

Louisa stared at Claire’s hand, opened her mouth as if to speak, slowly shook her head, then retreated behind her newspaper.

************

“So, Mr. Grant, have ye had sufficient time tae consult wi’ yer client?” Ned spoke confidently as Geneva and Mr. Grant returned to the conference room.

Jamie looked on admiringly, the butterflies having disappeared absolutely. Ned, bless him, was worth every penny.

“Yes, we have and Miss Dunsany wishes for me to inform you that she will agree for Mr. Fraser to be named on her son’s birth certificate and has accepted all access arrangements defined within the original proposal, including the annual review of access arrangements with legal representation. We will, of course formally document this agreement”

“Weel,” Ned resumed his benevolent uncle persona. “Miss Dunsany, Mr Grant, that’ll do nicely. Shall we make an appointment for the review in twelve months time, then?”

“Just a second, please.” Jamie interrupted. “Geneva, I ken ye agree the access arrangement, but have ye agreed the other bit? Will ye change his name? Will ye gi’ him Fraser as a middle name?”

Geneva pursed her lips for a second, as if contemplating one last spiteful action to hurt Jamie, before finally speaking. “Ok. Yes. I’ll make the appointment at the registrar’s then.”

As they walked towards the door, Jamie corrected her, his voice cold. “No, Geneva, this time I make the appointment.”

******

Claire could tell the outcome from the expression on Jamie’s face as he burst into the reception. Paying no attention to Louisa, he hugged Claire tightly, lifting her off her feet. “Sassenach, it’s agreed. I’m tae be on the birth certificate, and I get shared custody, just like we wanted. I canna wait fer ye tae meet him… William… ma son”

Laughing, Jamie placed her back on her feet and turned to shake Ned’s hand. Claire watched as Geneva, Louisa and Mr. Grant headed for the exit. Jamie refused to acknowledge their leaving or even cast a glance in their direction. Louisa whispered something to her daughter and Geneva paused, turning back to where Claire and Jamie stood. Claire smiled coldly and lifted her left hand, placing it around Jamie’s waist. Geneva’s shoulders drooped as she gazed at Jamie, his arm now around Claire’s shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

The moment passed and Geneva continued out of the office with her mother.

**************

Jamie looked at the clock by the side of the bed. He wasn’t sure what had woken him. He rolled over to Claire’s side of the bed - now cold and empty. He got out of bed, stumbling in the darkness, and headed onto the landing.

A light was on in the adjacent bedroom, and he could hear low murmur of a voice. He pushed the door open and stood watching in the doorway.

“... from the top of the tree, there came a loud buzzing noise. Winnie the Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put his head between his paws, and began to think…”

Claire sat on the rocking chair, the light from the reading lamp highlighting the auburn and golden tones in her hair, the motion of the chair causing her curls to sway gently. In her arms, she held William, his eyes fixed on her face, thumb firmly in his mouth.

Jamie felt like his heart was going to burst - his love and his son together. An image, a memory, he knew he would treasure forever.

Claire looked up at him and smiled softly. “Hey. Sorry, did we wake you?”

Jamie shook his head. “Nah. I didna hear him greetin’?”

“Oh, no, he wasn’t crying. I just wanted to check on him. This is all new for William, you know, first night at his Da’s and he was wide awake. So I thought a cuddle and a bit of a story might settle him down… come join us. We need someone for the voices.”

Jamie walked over to the rocking chair. He kissed the top of Claire’s head, then knelt down beside them, kissing William’s forehead. Claire moved the book closer to him.

Jamie began to read: “...then he thought another long time, and said: ‘And the only reason for being a bee that I know of is making honey.” And then he got up and said: “And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it’...”

#outlander fanfic #outlander fan fiction #the ties that bind #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #chapter 32 #the end

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ominousunflower · 4 years

Text

New Tradition

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Pairing: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir / Luka Couffaine Rating: T Word count: 4195

Fic summary: Luka stays home on New Year’s Eve, hoping that Chat Noir will visit for a midnight kiss.

Read previous fics on AO3

———————————–

On New Year’s Eve, with thirty minutes until midnight, Luka stands on the deck of the Liberty and scans the sky for Chat Noir.

He doesn’t know for a fact that Chat is going to show up. In fact, Luka knows he’s taking a risk by staying home on the off chance that the superhero will visit. For all he knows, he could end up spending the night by himself.

A freezing wind sweeps across the deck of the houseboat, and Luka adjusts his clothes, tugging his hat over his ears and pulling his scarf up over his mouth. At least he’s dressed for the weather for once.

On both sides of the Seine, crowds have gathered to wait for midnight and watch the fireworks together. Luka knows that there are similar groups scattered across Paris—and that somewhere, Juleka and his mother are gathered with friends as they count down to the new year. He’d been invited to go with them, of course, but he’d declined.

Luka was a little concerned by the knowing looks his mother and sister gave him as they left, though. He really hopes that they don’t know about his visits from Chat Noir.

He glances at the empty sky again, and then he retrieves his phone from his coat pocket and pulls up his last conversation with Adrien. It’s a long shot, but he still thinks that Adrien and Chat might be the same person. Maybe if he texts Adrien a hint…

Luka sighs, repocketing his phone. He’s being stupid. Even if he’s right about Adrien being Chat, Luka doesn’t know how to be subtle. His text would probably end up going something like, Bonne année! So, you’re Chat Noir, right?

A few more minutes pass, and Luka spends them brooding over his relationship with Chat. He wishes that Chat would have just approached him as a civilian, because falling for a superhero has made Luka’s life far messier than it has to be.

Luka is horrible at romance—he’s too awkward, too blunt—and thanks to this arrangement, he can’t exactly ask his family or friends for help with wooing Chat. And of course, standard relationship advice doesn’t help when Luka is dealing with an enigmatic cat superhero. He can’t talk to Chat’s friends to figure out how Chat feels about him, or invite Chat to hang out with Kitty Section so that Luka’s bandmates can tell him if Chat seems to like him.

His only clues are mixed signals, and the fact that Chat keeps kissing him. While that second part should tell Luka where Chat stands, he can’t help but worry that Chat is just being flirtatious. After all, isn’t he supposed to have a thing for Ladybug? Maybe he’s not serious about Luka after all. Maybe he’s up on a rooftop somewhere spending New Year’s Eve with Ladybug.

Despite the layers he’s wearing, Luka feels a chill creep across his skin. It seems as if this is a cycle that Luka’s doomed to repeat: meet someone, fall for them, feel a connection…and then watch as that person pines after someone else, pulling farther and farther away from Luka until they slip through his fingers completely.

It had happened with Marinette, of course, though she hadn’t been the first. Although she’d sometimes accepted Luka’s advances, she was always quietly pining for Adrien. And that’s not her fault, of course—Luka doesn’t blame her for who she loves, or for her great taste in guys—but it still made him feel like he’d done something wrong.

Luka’s mother has always told him that love is like a song: different for every person, and always from the heart. And for a while, Luka’s inner romantic had thought that his mother’s simile, as simple as it was, made sense.

Sometimes love is slow, creeping up on a person over time; and sometimes it’s fast, sudden, a coup de foudre that hits two people out of the blue. It might be loud and passionate, or it might be soft and simple, or it might even switch between the two. The song could repeat itself at times, with a comfortably familiar refrain—or it might be ever-changing, with each verse sounding like an entirely new song. And while some loves grow stronger with time, a steady crescendo, others fade out, growing quieter until the song can’t be heard anymore.

Now, Luka’s pretty sure that’s wrong. If love was a song, he would understand it. And it’s never been that easy. No, love is some sort of game—and Luka plays music, not games. That’s the only explanation for why he’s so bad at this.

Before Luka can torture himself with more thoughts about his failed love life, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He smiles when he sees that it’s a text from Adrien. Hey, Luka! Twenty minutes until 2020. Hope you’re ready to ring in the new year!

I guess I am, Luka responds. Are you stuck at home, or did your father let you out?

I’m at home, Adrien texts, apparently deciding to ignore Luka’s comment about his father. What about you?

Luka squints at his phone screen, bright against the shadows of the deck. If Adrien is Chat—and he almost has to be, really—is this his way of asking Luka if he can come over?

“Say what you mean,” Luka mutters, as he types his response. Maman and Juleka went out. I’m home by myself right now. If I’m lucky, maybe someone will show up to kiss me at midnight, but I’m not counting on it.

As he hits send, he knows that his reply is too bitter. For one thing, he doesn’t actually know that Adrien is Chat, so Adrien probably doesn’t deserve Luka’s irritation. And for another, it’s not like it’s Chat’s duty to show up and kiss Luka. For all Luka knows, he’s patrolling with Ladybug right now to keep the city safe on New Year’s Eve.

But, well…Luka has expectations. Chat has kissed him for the past three holidays, one of which France doesn’t even celebrate. The least he could do is kiss Luka on the one holiday where there’s actually a kissing tradition.

A few minutes pass, and Adrien doesn’t respond. Luka considers sending a follow-up text to apologize for being so negative, but he doesn’t want to make things worse. Instead, he just slips his phone back into his pocket and stares out at the water, wondering if maybe he should go join his family after all.

He won’t be upset if Chat doesn’t visit. Sure, he’ll be a little disappointed—but he won’t let it ruin his holiday. It’s not the end of the world if Chat doesn’t kiss him a fourth time.

Someone clears their throat behind him. “Salut, Luka.”

Luka whirls around. “Cha—Chat Noir?”

He says it as a question, because he’s not actually sure. The boy in front of him certainly resembles Chat: he has pale hair—probably blonde, though it’s hard to tell in the dim light—and he’s the same height as Chat, the same build. His voice is just as smooth and lilting, like a song without a tune, and his eyes sparkle the same as he stares at Luka.

But he’s also more fidgety than Chat. His movements are smaller, not as bold, as if he’s not sure he should be at the houseboat. And most importantly of all, his outfit is different. He’s still wearing a mask, but it’s a decorative masquerade mask with glitter and an elaborate border. Instead of cat ears, he’s wearing a beanie on his head, and instead of a leather suit, he’s wearing a black coat and scarf.

The boy wrings his hands together. Luka notices that he’s wearing mittens. “Uh—I mean—that—is that who you want?”

Luka folds his arms and regards the boy. “Am I supposed to guess your identity?” he asks. He’d always assumed that if he did figure out Chat’s identity, Chat wouldn’t want Luka to say anything.

The boy drags a mitten-clad hand down his face. “I’m Chat Noir,” he says. “You—you probably shouldn’t guess my identity. Ladybug’s already going to kill me for visiting a civilian so often. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“You’re not transformed,” Luka observes.

Chat rubs the back of his neck. “Right. I figured that since there are so many people near the Liberty right now, I should probably try to blend in.” He shrugs. “There are enough New Year’s Eve masquerade parties that no one questioned the mask. They probably just thought I was on my way to a party.”

“Are you?” Luka asks, even though he’s almost certain the answer is no.

Chat shakes his head and finally takes a few steps closer. “No. I came to see you.” He bites on his lip. “Unless—uh, unless you’re going to a party? Because I don’t want to keep you from, you know, your friends or…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Luka says. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Chat takes another few steps toward Luka, until he’s close enough that Luka could take his hand if he tried. “You seem a little…upset?”

“I was worried you wouldn’t come,” Luka admits. “You didn’t have to, of course. It was a stupid reason to be upset.”

“I’m sorry!” Chat says. He reaches down and grabs Luka’s hands. “I assumed you’d be out celebrating. It didn’t occur to me until a few minutes ago that you might be here.”

When I texted you? Luka wants to ask. But he knows he can’t ask Chat about his identity so directly.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Luka says, squeezing Chat’s hands. They can’t intertwine their fingers since he’s wearing mittens—and oh, he’s adorable in those mittens—but the weight of Chat’s palms against Luka’s is comforting. “I didn’t interrupt your plans, did I?”

Chat smiles ruefully and shakes his head. “I was home alone. I would have visited sooner if I’d known you were here.”

Not for the first time, Luka is frustrated by their arrangement. Thanks to Chat being a superhero with a secret identity, Luka has no way of inviting him over or visiting him when he’s lonely. And there’s a churning in his gut, an urge to demand how long are we going to keep this up?—except he doesn’t want to ruin the night. It’s New Year’s Eve, and Luka doesn’t want to start the new year on a bad note.

Luka leans forward with a smile. “Hoping to celebrate some New Year’s traditions?”

Chat stares at Luka with wide eyes. Then he ducks his head, hiding his mouth behind his scarf. “M-maybe?”

“Well,” Luka says, “I have bad news. Maman is firmly against holiday traditions, so we’ve got a strict no-mistletoe policy here.”

Chat’s nose wrinkles. “That’s a lie,” he says. “She had Krampus. Krampus is a holiday tradition.”

“Krampus is no longer with us,” Luka points out, “since you dumped him in the Seine last week.”

Eyes squeezed shut, Chat buries his face against Luka’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he whines. “I wasn’t thinking. And Krampus was terrifying.”

Luka laughs and wraps his arms around Chat. “I’m not mad,” he says. “Maman was furious, but she thinks it was the work of vandals.”

“Now I can never meet your mother,” Chat mumbles against Luka’s coat. “I bet she can smell fear. She’ll know it was me.”

“Is there a reason I’d be formally introducing you to my mother?” Luka asks, hope unfurling in his chest. Please say there is. Say we have something.

“Not unless you’re planning to turn me in.” Chat glances up with big, pleading eyes. In that moment, Luka realizes that he would do many, many things for those eyes. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

Luka laughs, even as disappointment needles his heart. “No. I won’t tell her.” His fingers brush against Chat’s masquerade mask. “I’m good at keeping secrets, you know.”

Chat inhales and opens his mouth, as if he wants to say something. He stares at Luka for a long moment, some mix of emotions warring in his eyes—and then he sighs and shakes his head. “I know,” he says quietly. Then he clears his throat. “So, Anarka Couffaine doesn’t allow a single holiday tradition on this boat? Not even one?”

Luka pokes Chat’s cheek. “Nope,” he says. “Although…” He leans down, closer to Chat, until their lips are almost touching. “There is one tradition she might make an exception for.”

Chat tilts his head back. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Fireball swinging.”

Chat squints at Luka. Luka can practically hear the record scratch playing in his mind. “What.”

“It’s a Stonehaven Hogmanay tradition.”

Luka watches as Chat tries to process his words. He tries not to laugh, but the confusion on Chat’s face is endearing.

And maybe Luka shouldn’t tease, except he kind of wants Chat to work for this kiss. Luka’s doubts from earlier still haven’t disappeared completely, and he wants to see if Chat is really interested in him or not.

“Hogmanay?” Chat echoes.

“Scottish New Year’s, basically,” Luka says. “We have relatives near Stonehaven, so we’ve visited once or twice to celebrate.”

With a frown, Chat loops his arms around Luka’s neck, preparing for a kiss that he’s not getting anytime soon. “So what is fireball swinging?”

“It’s…people swing fireballs?” Luka says, laughing. “They process down the street, and at the end of the ceremony, they throw the fireballs into the harbor.”

“That sounds kind of pretty,” Chat says.

“It is,” Luka agrees. He stares out at the sidewalk, imagining fiery rings lighting up the streets. Right now, the only light is from the dim stars and street lights overhead. “That said,” he adds, glancing at Chat, “I’m not sure I’d trust you to swing a giant ball of fire around here.”

“Quoi!” Chat says. “But I wield the Miraculous of Destruction!”

Luka laughs. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

“I’d be careful,” Chat grumbles.

“Sure,” Luka says. His hands find their way to Chat’s waist, and it occurs to him that they’re basically in a kissing position. “You know midnight’s not for another few minutes, right?”

Chat smirks, though there’s something vulnerable in his eyes that softens his expression. Luka wonders if maybe it’s the fact that he has human eyes instead of cat sclerae. “I wanted to get here early,” he says. “In your arms, I mean. Just in case someone else tried to beat me to it.”

“Oh?” Luka says. “Is someone else competing for my affection?”

Silently, he asks an even simpler question: is Chat competing for Luka’s affection? Or is he still pursuing Ladybug?

“I—I don’t know,” Chat says. The smirk slips off his face. “I thought maybe Marinette was…well…”

“Visiting the houseboat every holiday to kiss me?” Luka says, raising an eyebrow. “No, I think that’s just you.”

“But don’t you like each other?”

That’s a question Luka has asked himself several times over the past several weeks, and with each one of Chat’s visits, the answer has become increasingly clear. It’s been weeks since Luka wrote a song about Marinette, weeks since he dreamed about kissing her, weeks since her gaze made his palms sweaty. Luka still cares about her, of course—but their song has changed entirely, and the affection he has for her is almost completely platonic now.

Almost. Because occasionally, there’s still a sliver of his brain that wonders what if. What if Marinette asked him out tomorrow? What if she took his hand, or cupped his cheek and kissed him? Luka can’t entirely forget that he used to want her like that, and sometimes, the thought of having her love still makes his heart skip a beat.

But he knows that’s not really what he wants anymore. The person he wants is right in front of him, cradled in his arms right now—and yet, somehow, Chat seems even more unobtainable than the girl who’s turned Luka down several times.

“I have no idea how Marinette feels about me,” Luka finally says. “But I’m not really interested in her that way anymore.”

“Oh,” Chat says. He blinks several times. “Uh, good. So I don’t have to fight anyone for that midnight kiss?”

“What midnight kiss?” Luka says, struggling to keep a straight face. “I told you, there’s no mistletoe on this boat. Maman doesn’t approve of traditions like kissing under le gui.”

“Not a problem,” Chat says, his voice sing-song. “I came prepared.”

Luka frowns. “You brought mistletoe with you?”

Of course he did. Did Luka really expect Chat to take chances with these holiday kisses?

Chat laughs. “Technically, I didn’t bring it,” he says. “Look up.”

Slowly, Luka tilts his head back to gaze above them. Some sort of tiny figure is floating between him and Chat in the darkness, dangling a sprig of mistletoe overhead.

“Honestly,” the floating blob says, “I can’t believe you roped me into your ridiculous holiday ritual. No amount of cheese is worth this.”

Realization dawns on Luka. He gazes down at Chat in disbelief, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re using your kwami to hold mistletoe?”

Chat nods. “I’m very committed.”

“And I’m very exasperated,” Chat’s kwami says. “If you want to kiss guitar boy so badly—”

“Plagg!” Chat says.

Luka laughs. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect that,” he says. “You got me.”

Grinning, Chat asks, “So, do I get my kiss?”

“Say yes, s’il vous plaît,” Plagg says. “He’ll complain all night if you don’t do that bizarre thing with your mouths.”

“Plagg,” Chat whines.

“I don’t know,” Luka says. “I’m impressed, but we don’t really honor tradition around here. I’m not sure if I should make an exception.”

“Luka,” Chat says, pouting. His hat starts to slip off his hair, and Luka reaches up to tug it back down. “You know how the tradition works. Are you really going to condemn me to a year of loneliness?”

“You know,” Luka says, “that’s a good point. That would be pretty cruel of me.”

“Exactly.” Chat presses closer, until there’s barely any space between his and Luka’s bodies. “And you’re too kind for that, Luka.”

Plagg groans. “Disgusting. I wish I was in my ring right now. Or at home eating cheese. What kind of torture is this?”

Sighing, Chat reaches up and tries to snatch the mistletoe from Plagg’s paws—but Plagg floats just out of reach, narrowly avoiding his hand.

“Plagg,” Chat says, “if you’re going to have such an attitude, just give me the mistletoe.”

“Absolutely not,” Plagg says. “You promised me copious amounts of cheese for this. I’m holding up my end of the deal.”

“You bribed your kwami?” Luka says.

Chat rolls his eyes. “He never helps unless he’s getting something in return.” He glares up at Plagg. “Can you just be quiet for a few minutes?”

“Hm,” Plagg says. “Maybe. It depends on whether or not you’re willing to sweeten the deal.”

Chat groans, and Luka can’t help but laugh. There’s something bizarrely entertaining (and sweet) about watching Chat barter with his kwami to secure some mistletoe.

“What do you want?” Chat asks.

“A dozen extra wheels of cheese,” Plagg says. “Imported.”

“Père is going to think I’m insane,” Chat says. “Did you know Na—his assistant tried to stage an intervention about my consumption of camembert? You’re ruining my life.”

“That’s not my problem,” Plagg says. “Do we have a deal, or not?”

Chat glances between Luka and Plagg a few times, then lets out a frustrated sigh. “Eight wheels,” he says.

“Ten.”

“Fine!” Chat snaps. “Now be quiet until this is done.”

Luka tugs lightly at Chat’s scarf, pulling it down below his chin so that his lips are completely uncovered. “You know, I’m glad you got that sorted out,” Luka says, “but I still haven’t decided if your tradition should be allowed on the Liberty.”

“You know what I think?” Chat says. His eyes glint with determination, and maybe that reaction is a little over-the-top, but Luka kind of appreciates Chat’s dedication to making out with him. “I think your ban on traditions has become a tradition. And if you’re really anti-tradition, you’ll lift the traditional ban on traditions.”

Luka closes his eyes, trying to make sense of Chat’s winding logic. “Chat,” he says. “Please don’t make me start the new year with a headache.”

“Well, then, don’t think about it too much,” Chat says. “Just agree that I’m right.”

“You’re pretty stubborn,” Luka notes.

“So am I getting a kiss?” Chat asks with a toothy smile.

Luka laughs. “I guess I could give you one,” he says. “But you’ll have to wait another minute or two.”

Soon, the crowds along the river begin to yell out numbers. Luka struggles to understand them at first, but somewhere around thirty, he realizes what they’re saying.

A few moments later, Chat whispers, “Twenty seconds.”

“Twenty seconds until 2020?” Luka says.

If Chat notices that Luka’s echoed Adrien’s text from earlier, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps his arms more tightly around Luka’s neck and tugs him closer. Luka lifts a hand to cup one of Chat’s cheeks, which makes Chat laugh for some reason.

He taps the back of Luka’s neck. “I can’t do much with mittens. No fingers—it’s like having paws.”

“Oh,” Luka says. “Well, they look cute, at least.”

Chat ducks his head, and around them, the last countdown begins.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six...

Luka takes a deep breath and tilts his head to the side, lining their lips up. “Three,” he murmurs.

“Two,” Chat says.

And then the streets and sidewalks around them erupt in whoops and cheers, signaling midnight. Luka doesn’t waste a second, pulling Chat’s lips against his while his other arm holds Chat’s waist as tightly as possible.

Chat’s hands paw at Luka’s hair, knocking Luka’s hat sideways. Luka responds in kind, yanking Chat’s hat off and running gloved fingers through his hair. Before he can get much farther than that, though, the fireworks start with a loud BOOM overhead.

Chat jumps, his lips breaking away from Luka’s. “S-sorry,” he says, eyes wide. “I’m not a big fan of fireworks. They’re too—”

He yelps as a round of fireworks cracks and booms overhead, then buries his face against Luka’s chest. Luka kisses his forehead—now bare without the hat Luka tossed—and strokes Chat’s hair to soothe him.

“Too loud,” Chat mumbles, nuzzling Luka’s torso. “Usually I’m inside, so fireworks don’t bother me as much, but…”

He flinches as a particularly loud blast goes off, and Luka pats Chat’s back. “How about we go downstairs?” he says. “It should be quieter down there.”

Chat nods. Luka bends over to retrieve his hat, then grabs his hand and leads him below deck. Once they’re downstairs, the thundering of the fireworks is muted, though still audible.

In the light of the kitchen, Luka can suddenly see the features that were muted by the monochrome evening light outside. Chat’s hair is just as blond when he’s not transformed, and his eyes are the same sparkling green, just without the cat shape. They’re earnest, and soft, and bright, and—well, Luka’s pretty sure he’s already fallen for Chat, but if he hadn’t, Chat’s eyes would have done the trick.

Chat tilts his head to the side. “What is it?”

“You’re pretty,” Luka says. He tugs Chat’s hat back onto his head, flattening his messy curls.

“So are you,” Chat says.

Luka raises an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get another kiss?”

“No,” Chat says. “I just wasn’t sure if you knew how pretty you are.” He reaches down and plucks off one of his mittens, then reaches up to cradle Luka’s cheek. “That said, our kiss did get interrupted, so…”

After a quick glance upward to confirm, Luka says, “Your mistletoe’s gone, you know.”

Chat sighs. “It’s somewhere on this boat. Isn’t that good enough?”

Luka wraps his arms around Chat’s waist once again. “I guess I can make an exception. But, you know, I’ve been wondering…” His nose brushes against Chat’s. “Are your holiday kisses going to be a tradition, too?”

“They could be,” Chat says. “If you want me to come back.”

“There are still a few holidays you haven’t done yet.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Chat smiles up at Luka, his cheeks pink with a blush. “Bonne année, Luka.”

“Bonne année, Chat,” Luka says.

Then he kisses Chat again, with added enthusiasm to make up for the fireworks that interrupted them earlier. And as their lips meet and their hands hold each other close, Luka decides that if he can just spend this coming year with Chat, that might be enough.

And maybe Luka has a chance with him. He just needs a few more holidays, a few more kisses, and maybe he can convince Chat to stop running away.

After about a minute of kissing, Luka leans back and says, “You’re coming back for Valentine’s Day, right?”

Chat’s only answer to that is to capture Luka’s lips in another kiss.

#holiday kiss series #my fic #full fic

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a-collection-of-villainous-aus · 5 years

Text

COFFEE AU PT2

COFFEE DRABBLE 2 PART TWO

CONTINUED FROM PART ONE OF PART TWO

Of course it would be no challenge to stand over Flug though with a little shape shifting, to make him fragile under his hand and yet…the man whose face he wore, the one who’d died…just looking at him made Black Hat feel as he was the one who could be broken and he once had been as his past lover died in his arms.

He could not truly seek out this man until he knew if this was him reborn…but until then a little kiss, even harmless flirting could do no harm if only to pretend a moment.

“What no I did not-“

Acylius tried to deny of course failing miserably

“Is that so…Doctorrr? Your little friend told me if I offered a helping hand I would be rewarded with a kiss.”

Thank the circles of darkness that Black Hat had pulled him out of sight; he was now pressed against a fridge, looking down as his eyes started glowing a brighter blue, cheeks now almost red in his flustered state.

How dare he make his voice sound like that…oh he was doing this because of Demencia?

The demons long claw hooked over the edge of his mask, gently trailing down over the tip of his nose and the curve of his lips, if you walked in you could honestly cut the tension with a knife.

Acylius out of no where grabbed Black Hat by his lapels (because of course Hat would wear the apron over his coat) and pushed *coughs* I mean slammed him against the fridge, the sound from Black Hat was amusing to say the least.

“So…a lady tells you to kiss me and only then you will take the initiative?”

Acylius teased, breath ghosting against the demons lips, barely touching and it was clear Hat wanted it as a small whine left him, leaning forward to try and close the gap, growling in disappointment as it seemed Flug was aware of this and moved back a little

“No , I chose-“

And then oohh and then Acylius kissed him, confused for only a moment , his wide eyed expression fading as he lost himself to sensation, senses laid claim to , forgetting sense all that made time work no longer existed, claws entwining with thick ebony hair, legs finding their way around his hips.

Without shame he would have let the Barista have him right here and now and let the universe hear what pleasured screams he might sing out as a chorus of fireworks swelled within his world they were all too soon brought to an end.

Even for Flug , parting from those perfect lips , where he could taste the blood of his own tongue had been painful, he wanted to take the breath from him again but this was Black Hat, what did he truly want out of all of this?

Could he be trusted, probably not…did he care?

Not entirely.

But he had a coffee shop to run and this was not the time, nor the place.

“Sit back down Jefecito, just for you that little treat was on the house.”

Acylius winked mischievously

“I would personally like to get on the house.”

Hat returned trying to lazily pull him back in, still half dazed and somewhat miffed that he wasn’t complying, it did not help that beneath all this he could see that dark streak within this being peering out to coat this moment, it was absolutely delightful to behold, head resting back on cold steel he smirked

“First you will have to put me down…Doctorrr.”

Heh there it was again that small huff as he became half shy and aroused all at once, precious.

Black Hat had to know about the man in the basement why else would he keep calling him that…and yet…it touched something within him, a distant memory he couldn’t quiet remember and just barely there.

“Please stop calling me that, let me try to at least keep some of my dignity, kissing people out of the blue is not something I am usually known for.”

“You Acylius are not the only one…also I do intend to help and-“

“No, your ass will only be a distraction.”

The Barista interrupted quickly, words would be had with Demencia later.

“Ohhh my ass, you like what you see then?”

Hat leered still quite happy to still have his legs around him; he even rolled his hips a little as he was flush against his waist, heh.

“That is not what I …I meant stop that…but I suppose…so argh, park it back in your chair god damn it!”

Acylius’s ears formed into their almost Sphynx like appearance as they blushed, he then dropped him, of course Black Hat landed gracefully.

“Mean.”

“Ha coming from the master of all villainy I should take that as a compliment.”

Black Hat looked him up and down as if he’d just like to do every sinful thing under the sun and well Flug wasn’t exactly stopping this, he was only quiet and pink, lingering there, it was bloody obvious he wanted to do more, why wasn’t he…well he wasn’t going to force this.

“So I should sit hmm?”

“Yes, do what you need to when you bring me back out though.”

Acylius replied, now fidgeting with his hands, ears returning to a more human shape.

Running a claw tip slowly along his jaw line before he started on out of the kitchen eye going completely white as his smile stretched into a wicked grin

“Come Barista.”

Flug realized it was as if his feet had been magnetized to the black and white tiled floor and was being pulled along, trying to move by himself and finding he couldn’t Acylius could feel the heat pooling downwards, crap on a cracker this was no time to find he had a new kink and just barely managed to grab a tray on the way out.

As Black Hat exited the kitchen he called out smugly

“That was excellent service, now bring me my next order or…”

Sniffing the air his pupil grew even thinner, tongue flicking out, head turning one eighty as his voice had a touch of inhumanity that please come on brings out the Demencia in all of us Lol.

Glancing down and moving so fluidly back to him one could mistake the demon for a serpent he beckoned him down without so much as having to touch him

“Do you have a problem?”

“None at all, Jefecito.”

Acylius ground out and would have absolutely hit him over the head with said tray if not for the fact it was covering his obvious arousal.

For a moment he was thankful for the age of mobile phones where no one particularly cared about anyone else’s business unless it was online or about themselves so most were distracted at least they would have been had this not been about Black Hat and the person who was supposed to be helping Demencia serve coffee, he was going to be paying her double time as a thank you for literally putting up with this day with him.

Wait…one hand left the tray covering up the inconvenient tenting in his trousers and touched his face, his mask…was down and one or two people did walk out clearly uncomfortable with his facial scars there was soon after a sound of a screeching van and something most likely the two who’d left smearing across the salted roads…oh my ¬w¬ how awful.

The smile on Black Hat’s face made it all the more evident he’d had something to do with that and it did not help the strain.

Black Hat wondered…if there was a chance this was that idiot demon he’d loved so dearly, would he still react to the mention of his sibling that made his entire body wilt, squinting he spoke softly

“I should really hold a private party and allow you to meet my brother.”

Flug’s top lip curled in disgust

“I would sooner down poison.”

“Yes I am sure you would and also you are welcome.”

Sadly it had worked all that lovely blood that had flooded Flugs South Pole had sadly melted making him flaccid once more, Hat chuckled, gliding back to his chair which someone had been about to take before he’d hissed at them and they went scurrying off.

Watching his peculiar customer in disbelief, Acylius shook his head, what was this day even, looking over the line and smiling awkwardly he took his place beside Demencia who was staring with a shit eating grin and leaned in with a whisper

“Sooo , have fun?”

This wasn’t a family establishment so no one dared to pull the ‘Think of the children’ card, if anything the customers seemed curious, one person even calling out

“Keep the mask off you’re cute!”

Another piping up

“Hey, you single, my brother would totally be into you!”

Black Hat thought to himself ‘You won’t have a brother if he comes anywhere near Flug.’

“Please calm down, I will keep the mask off but we still need to serve your drinks!”

There was another dark cloud over our demon, but this was one of jealously, even if it wasn’t his Acylius because of the uncanny resemblance he could not help but feel possessive.

Pt2 of drabble 2....

yes there’s still a part three of drabble 2 that I still have yet to type up

#Coffee au #paperhat #villainous au

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emma-poole · 5 years

Text

Sometimes I stand in front of the fridge with the door open just staring at all of the colorful produce I’ve amassed. Pearly red peppers. Rainbow carrots that when sliced in circles resemble the ancestral rings of a yellow and purple tree. Aged cheese lined in blue marble, encrusted with pepper. You’re so fucking in love with food, my roommate jokes. He’s not wrong.

My salads are masterpieces. I can chop a tomato and make it flirt with a tendriled cucumber. My stark granite countertop turns into an impressive dinner table in minutes. A proper balance of flavors and textures is essential, as are flowers, candles, and a woodsy incense blown out moments before guests arrive.

Perhaps this is my mother in me. I know how to make things beautiful.

Each morning, I paint my face. Watch my eyelashes transform from soft whisps to black lace. My skin, supple but uneven, smooths beneath the foundation. I lather my hair in soap, wash my body, and brush my teeth. Sometimes I even buff my feet with the volcanic rock the saleswoman convinced me to buy at the holiday markets this winter. She told me I had beautiful skin while looking directly in my eyes. $50 later I walked away with a jar of salt scrub allegedly from the Dead Sea. I liked the way my skin felt after she massaged it into my hand for two minutes, as if butter had just melted on its surface.

I dress, listen to a podcast, make the bed. Tidy up the balls of dust that magically collect under my dresser and door frame no matter how many times I sweep. Robin stares at me quizzically while I move through each task, her eyes widening only when she smells the coconut oil I apply to my arms and shoulders, her cue that a taste is about to be offered. I kiss her between her eyes and linger an extra moment in the toasty scent of her fur. She makes sense.

It’s like walking through muck. Being covered in a thick veil of gauze that makes even the brightest pictures appear to have residue. Students ask me how I’m doing after class. I want to tell them that waking up is a task. Despite my routine, on some days I have no idea where I gather the energy to stand in front of a room and guide people. A brief respite-hazelnut iced coffee at the cafe around the corner, with its tired baristas and buttery croissants. The tiny rituals I complete each morning keep my nervous system functioning. I look down at my phone. I like having someone to text in the mornings and the silence feels like a taunt. I turn it over.

Walking to class, I wonder again how I am supposed to teach my students to lean into joy and spark creativity when I cannot even place a feeling. It’s strange, this inability to accurately self-prescribe the change that is needed, though it’s clear one must happen soon. My brain is foggy, thick, lethargic. It tells stories I don’t know if I can trust. All day, I grapple with the reality of the world in my head verse the one I live in. I show up to teach. Words come out of my mouth from a force bigger than me. My students’ bodies are willow trees- arms extended, fingertips stretched toward the heavens in unison. They are breathtaking, in sync. Sometimes I want to weep. So I breathe.

Spring shows up outside the living room window, in the rays of light on my dying plants. Hang on, I whisper to their wilted leaves. After nine years of failing to become a plant whisperer, I’ve taken to relying on affirmations. The weather can’t make up its mind. We keep the windows open overnight and in the morning, they are light green corpses. I don’t have the energy to wipe the dust off their underbellies.

I meet someone. He makes me laugh. He has watery brown eyes that crinkle when he’s amused and a mischievous smile. I enjoy running my fingers through his thick beard, watching him react to something ridiculous I say. Our first date, he picks me up outside and presses my body against the cement wall of the restaurant. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively. He tastes like the dirty martinis we clinked our glasses to. I let my tongue discover his mouth, and he responds rhythmically in mine. My heart buzzes. We kiss for minutes and I don't think about you once.

I see you in pictures, in my dreams. You look thin, like you need a home cooked meal. I can’t believe a year has passed, how many nights I spent waiting for this month to come. You are far away in mind and body. The farthest you’ve ever been to me. I try to imagine fitting into you the way I once did. Watching you across the table, drinking glass after glass of red wine, your beautiful blue eyes staring back at me. Our love is foreign now, like an old piece of clothing that doesn’t quite fit the way it used to. I cling to it in moments; the whimsical beginning, too easy it didn’t feel real. How I couldn’t breathe the first time we kissed because I was so overwhelmed by the presence of you.

The passing of time… is astonishing. I stopped breathing for six months wondering if the anxiety in my chest would ever subside. Distance hijacked our ability to see clearly. I hated you. More so, I hated who I was becoming. You still seem lost, like you’re constantly in search of something you fear you may never find. I am having a hard time recognizing the person I see in pictures. I look for him, but an empty shell stares back.

I hope you know that I felt you everyday for a year. That I forgive you. And I still feel you in a way I am finding it hard to put into words. An old song on the radio, perhaps. Familiar. Distant. Heartachingly reminiscent of a different time. I love you. I release you.

The guy who makes me laugh kisses me like I’m his last meal. We lay in bed for hours, pressing our faces together until our lips meet. The hair on his chest smells like cinnamon sprinkled in the woods and is surprisingly soft. I burrow my face in it. I feel like were little animals, I whisper. We are animals, he grins back at me. I pull the singing bowl off my window sill, teach him how to run the small wooden instrument around the perimeter of it. He sits cross-legged in front of me, smiling at his wobbly effort.

There are little things. Slight misalignments that make me wonder if we’re compatible. But then he rests his head on my calf, neck, hip. Touches my body curiously but also as if it belongs to him. He makes me feel more present than I have in a long time. I should know by now not to cling to the certainty of anything that seems too effortless. Lessons show up as people. Moments. Blissful evenings koalaing yourself to another body. But on this night I lean into it. He is an exhale. The bubbly effervescence that begins as a soft hum in the belly and explodes into a laugh. I lift my face to him. He whispers something dirty in my ear and I let him bend me over the bed. We kiss 17 more times before he leaves.

I’ve had a recurring dream my whole life that I can fly. Waking up from such a dream is startling- a fleeting moment of melancholia. In the dream, I am surrounded by open field, somewhere vast enough to catch a running start. I pick up speed until I soar off the ground. I am 45 degrees through the air, looking down at the world below me. The green of the trees starts to blend in with the grey of the pavement until earth is an intricate map of blotted colors, like one of those paintings where you let the droplet just fall off the brush in blobs. Look what I can do! I confide in only my closest friends. They laugh and laugh until I soar above them, no longer the punchline of my own joke but a creature born of something elsewhere. When the guy who plays my singing bowl begins showing up in my dreams, I wake up dizzy.

The dizzy spells appear first in yoga class. I stand up from a forward bend to foggy vision. It takes seconds too long for my eyes to focus. My doctor switches my birth control to the generic brand. I blame the vertigo on this, swallow the daily pill because I cannot risk getting pregnant a second time. I don’t know that I’d be able to say no again and I am still not ready to be a mom. Someday, my intuition reminds. I vow to start nurturing myself the way I have nurtured partners who sought a mother in me.

On nights I want the thrill, I pinch a small bud of weed between my fingers and inhale its mossy aroma. Smoke the dime I’ve had in my bowl for a month and watch the tendrils curl from my mouth. I light the candles. Cook myself a beautiful meal. Blast baby making music from the speakers. And then I lie down and touch myself tenderly, with a precision that comes only from years of practice. My body is a firework, alive, exploding.

Days pass. The passing of time becomes a relief. Sludge remains but its hold on me starts to loosen; my brain feels clearer. I find simple ways to heighten my senses, which is really a fancy way of saying I am working everyday day to embody presence.

I tilt my face to the early morning sun and let its warmth spread across my cheeks. Suck the juice of a lemon directly from its flesh. Put a hand over my heart and feel it remember again.

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xpyre · 5 years

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@xpuriity / roo!

| ♪ Clear midnight skies and loud cheers as their family counted down to what would signify the end of the year but as every year, the hummingbird had been looking for something else entirely, attention completely immersed in but one boy that everything else faded entirely — no voice escaping plump glossy lips while a petite figure remained attached, inseparable from the source of warmth resembling the sun to her, literally and metaphorically even on the cold winter night — her firefly.

Indigo would remain transfixed on enticing silver orbs, all too mesmerized by a vision deemed brighter than that of exploding fireworks and all the fear they summoned within her — refusing to permit the background noise to steal this moment from them and just as the descend of numbers would come to a halt, she would deafen her fears and explosions alike with but one simple gesture: claiming the lips of her beloved birthday boy, passionately.

All around wishes for the new year were exchanged but his little lady would provide him a wish of her own. ❝I wish I could start and end every year like this with you.. Happy Birthday, Ace..❞

With said confession spoken, his little bird would disappear into the crowds, leaving her special boy to celebrate with the rest of their family for the time being while she had much left to set up — it had become somewhat of a tradition for them to spend his birthday in a place of sanctuary, a secret the lovebirds shared alone, however being pirates meant that option would not always be viable hence her determination to mimic the magic he shared with her in that place as best as she could.

Finally returning to his side, a childlike tug would linger upon his hand, silently demanding his attention away from his brothers. ❝Come with me?❞ she would ask; selfish never had the hummingbird been, except when it came to her special boy, as she now whisked him away from to keep for herself the remainder of the night. Teasing remarks in the background completely ignored as she had been focused on none other than her freckled ray of sunshine.

Rather than any special location, she would merely lead him to the confinement of their own chambers — their home, where he is welcomed with vibrant rotating lights of color changing lamps emitting aurora resembling reflections upon the four walls and ceiling — not identical to the real piece of heaven yet still serving to provide a romantic enchanting glow to the pillow fort picnic setting she had waiting for him.

Next to the picnic, sat a box with holes on the lid — seemingly rattling and shaking to break open as though the gift itself had been alive — quick strides she would take to rush to it❝I’m sorry — I thought it would be okay to keep him in.. if it’s just for a little bit... ❞ she speaks hurriedly as the item she referred to as ‘he’’ is handed shyly to Ace, urging him to open it.

She knew her beloved cared naught for materialistic items, yet carried immense love for animals only paralleled by his natural kindness, hence why as soon as the lid is lifted, a feline like creature would charge out — or had it been a bird? A blend of sunset peach and orange hues that is shimmering fur coated its cat like ears and tail while the softest feathers extending from its back to shape angel wings and its beak resembled a bird. A creature so unlike any other yet so minuscule in its size would take flight in their room, causing the lights to reflect even brighter before finally taking its seat upon his new friend’s hand, attracted to his exuding warmth and pouting comically to him as though snitching that his girl had him in a box.

❝Look — he’s both a bird and a cat…❞ she says enthusiastically, hoping that clarified her choice — it had been part her, and part him. ❝He’s the last of his kind… I found him while trying to track one of his feathers… thought since he’s so small he could keep you company when you go off alone on the striker.. — I haven’t named him, thought you would like to?❞ the suggestion is made before a mischievous smile coats her lips and she gets up, spins in her little dress and skips over to their dresser to pick up yet another wrapped gift, this one doesn’t rattle when handed to him.

A compass — not the log pose but a traditional kind used in olden days is wrapped with a small white ribbon.

❝They say it’s supposed to lead you to your heart’s innermost and deepest desires — It has to be true because ever since I’ve picked it up

— it’s only ever pointed me to you❞

Stolen —– From the boisterous bunch in their surroundings and the chanting of numbers counting down till the very stroke of midnight —– The upcoming new year summoned only excitement across the deck of pirates, while to this specific pirate tonight, there was only but one scenery, one event, one girl in his atmosphere, and she, more than the stars above, illuminated beautifully beneath this generous ray of moonlight.

As though a magnet, vivid indigo effortlessly colors both his vision and any track of thought he had prior in his head; silver simply now just utterly unable to rip from the captivating pair of eyes he knew were also in a similar predicament —– A love so overwhelming was felt in the pit of his stomach, knowing all too very well of the mutuality that was her immense love for him in return. One he deemed nothing short of a miracle for one as undeserving as himself —– Or so was his mindset before this very love filled the empty spaces inside his heart and whispered to him he was her only one.

Unlike the previous years where his little lady did well to catch him entirely off guard, Ace would anticipate her sneaky plans right before her abrupt leaning in —– Candy pink lips so soft to the touch now generously granting him just a taste had prompted the immediate reaction of fishing for both a delicate pair of arms, pulling her petite figure against his own for an embrace so tight. And triumphantly, he smiles against her kiss so passionate, savoring all that she was.

Prompted by her spoken wish deemed ever so sweet to his ears, her beloved firefly would respond without a voice yet in a manner obviously very positive as he allows his hands to speak for themselves and trail her curves before cupping of both rosy cheeks and planting yet another loving kiss to his favorite pair of lips —– Only once parted does he flash her a grin rather smug.

❛❛ —– We’ve got the rest of our lives for that, don’t we? ❜❜

An unexpected promise hinting he was in this for the long haul would fall sweetly from his mouth like honey. It wasn’t an option he ever thought possible before this relationship as merely just contemplating the very topic of forever when he was a man despised by the world was but a dream deemed impossible. Never did he ever imagine burdening another with his load by allowing them into his life in such an intimate manner —– This being yet another example of just how much she truly changed him.

Escaping his hold, his hummingbird slips past the crowd, leaving him rather lonesome, wondering of her absence while left to stare towards the skies of exploding lights in the company of his many brothers and very few sisters. Some of which that would find the opportunity to present to him with congratulatory words and a familial hug. Perhaps even a drink or two.

Her return in the form of a gentle tug of his hand was one to catch him by surprise, soon to elicit delight to his expression—– her request even more so as he allowed her to lead the way and whisk the two away from the crowd, leaving their loud, cheeky voices of support for the couple to become but a distant murmur now.

Upon entering their room, silver is taken aback by the luminous colors now projected across their four walls like decoration. He takes time to admire the aurora indoors; the sight being a reminder itself of the familiar scenery that was their secret place of sanctuary. The cozy setting around them as well, almost as though to recreate the memory that was previously outdoors and several islands away from where they currently sailed.

❛❛ ..Rosa, this is—– ❜❜ Interrupted, his attention is immediately seized by what seemed to rattle energetically, or say, desperately inside a box he now watched her reach for —– Immense curiosity colors a gaze of silver as he is handed the source of the sound, promptly quick to open the gift of which seemed to now fly out at him like a speeding vehicle —– although minuscule, the speed alone was shocking enough to make any human to pull away and reject the unknown as reflex, however Ace did not. Nothing of the fearful emotion could be seen, only his mouth was agape in wonder by the tiny creature he could not yet determine the type of.

An explanation for the coat of orange and peachy hues mixing feline and bird traits into one, and whatever initial curiosity and surprise would disperse into that of utter amazement upon a visage of stars —– The last of his kind, she would inform him and his expression would transition into one quite thoughtful as he whispers to himself in a volume barely audible. ❛❛ ..We’re the same then.. ❜❜ The similarity being that he too, was the last of his bloodline.

She would suggest their new friend accompany him on his striker and there’s a faint smile upon his features before brushing off his previous thought entirely, now proceeding to play with the unnamed friend with but a lone finger, hoping to smudge off it’s adorable pout for being forced inside a box —– A name she would now allow him the honor of granting, and Ace was left to seriously contemplate one suiting of the flying furball in the palm of his hand. That was, until she was up and moving once more, prompting both his train of thought and a pair of silver to follow after her petite figure like a magnet he couldn’t quite control.

Yet another gift —– surely by now she should have realized that just her presence alone was more than enough for her firefly on this special day. Though that may be true, still he felt of anticipation crawl at his expression, immediate in unboxing what was handed to him. And to his astonishment, when revealed to be an olden day compass, initially, there is a pause and look of wonder towards Rosa, silver utterly awed by the sickly-sweet honey to now pass her lips.

While no words in his vocabulary were even closely capable of conveying his gratitude, his free arm reaches across her back, pulling her into his embrace before allowing silence to fill the air —– one of which that felt only natural for the two as he savored the moment simply with her in his hold —– look closely, and a soft smile adorns a visage of constellations.

❛❛ ..Looks like I finally figured out a name for this little guy—– ❜❜ he finally releases his hold and protrudes the silence with a name she so kindly permitted him the honor of. ❛❛ Arrow. ❜❜ Like the compass of which she spoke of pointing to him always. He beams while pointing to the tiny creature who seemed rather pleased by the given name. ❛❛ You like that name, huh, little guy?? ❜❜ He laughs, now smiling so loving towards his little lady.

❛❛ —– Thank you, Rosa! You’re always going the extra mile for me.. I’ll keep this with me, always! ❜❜ The compass he meant just before a leaning down was on cue, claiming glossy lips with all he had, heart included. ❛❛ Ah, and Arrow too! ❜❜ An adorable laugh.

#xpuriity #╳ living fire ; in character #╳ rising above the flame ; main #╳ a song like summer ; rosa #╳ stay with me awhile ; acero #╳ that time again ; birthday #submission #( I WAS LIKE )#( !!!!!!!!!!!!!! )#( SQUEALING AT THE PET )#( I LOVE THIS SO SO MUCH )#( THANK YOU FOR KNOWING MY BABY SO DAMN WELL )#( AND SPOILING HIM EVERY DAY AND EVERY YEAR )#( HE'S SO SO HAPPY ADASFDSASDA )#( IM SO SHIT AT WRITING IM SO SORRY IT TAKES ME FOREVER OTL )#( ALSO also my ace muse isn't the best these days gomen if it's off or anything shfsads )#( also also also its 5am so excuse any mistakes;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; )

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makistar2018 · 6 years

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Taylor Swift Celebrates Nashville Roots and the Power of Pop at Nissan Stadium

Swift's hometown extravaganza features snakes, Faith Hill and Tim McGraw, and tons of other spectacles

By THE SPIN AUG 27, 2018

Taylor Swift at Nissan Stadium PHOTO: LANCE CONZETT

Taylor Swift’s Reputation Stadium Tour is supposed to be the ultimate expression of the singer’s new persona, a flashy display of the fresh-out-of-fucks-to-give attitude she debuted last year after declaring "the old Taylor” dead. But really, Swift’s Saturday stop at Nissan Stadium was a celebration of both the old and the new. With a set list that reached all the way back to 2006, it was a culmination of the lessons, lyrics and fans that have helped Swift reach her most confident, carefree (and successful) self, which — as she stated repeatedly from the enormous X-shaped stage — never would've happened without Nashville.

“I moved to Nashville when I was 13,” the singer said after opening her set with back-to-back performances of “... Ready for It?” and “I Did Something Bad.” (The Spin could feel the heat from the pyro, even though we were a couple hundred feet away.) “I remember my first memory of this stadium. My mom and I got tickets to CMA Fest. ... I just remember thinking that that’s the biggest place that anyone could ever play.

“Years later I was lucky enough to actually play a 15-20 minute set at CMA Fest in this stadium, and I was like, ‘That’s it, that’s the peak, that’s the best it’s ever gonna get,’ ” Swift continued. “So tonight is the first time I’m headlining this stadium, and I’m so grateful, you guys. You have no idea — this means so much to me. It means so much to my family and friends. This is our hometown show.”

Since her stadium debut years ago, Swift and her team have perfected the art of massive production, right down to the tiny symbolic details. The digital graphics that flashed across the several-stories-high video screen were impeccable, the fireworks and towers of flame were plentiful, the dancers and backup singers were diverse and mesmerizing, and there were So. Many. Giant. Snakes. (OK, so there were only three giant snakes, but that is three more than any other stadium show we've seen has had. It was hilarious.) There were even two gondola-like contraptions (one of which was in the shape of a snake, naturally) to carry Swift between the main stage and two smaller stages.

The green sequined jacket Swift wore during the acoustic portion of the show — during which she played guitar and sang “Dancing With Our Hands Tied” and “Better Man” (a CMA- and Grammy-winning song that Swift wrote and Little Big Town recorded) — was decorated with a glittery black-and-gold patch made specifically for the Nashville date. The confetti that rained down during the Great Gatsby-meets-High School Musical finale of “Call It What You Want” and a mashup of “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” with “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things” consisted of tiny tissue-paper versions of a Taylor Swift newspaper. Even Nashville’s inescapable growth got a shoutout — as Swift sat down at the piano, we noticed that the towers holding the massive stacks of speakers over her head resembled construction cranes. At that point, she paused to note how the city keeps changing.

Taylor Swift at Nissan Stadium PHOTO: LANCE CONZETT

“One of the most obvious indications of time passing, for me, is Nashville,” she said. “Because every time I come home, something’s different, something new is being built — we got another cool restaurant, another couple thousand people that moved here. Because, basically, I’m sure you’ve noticed this too: In the last 15 years everyone else has realized that Nashville is just the best place in the world.”

After performing “Don’t Blame Me” and a “Long Live”/“New Year’s Day” medley solo at the piano, the love letter to Music City continued. “[Nashville] is the most important city I’ve ever been in in my entire life. And it’s the place where … I wrote the song that I haven’t played in a very, very long time. And it was a song that really changed my life. I think that it would only be fitting to play it tonight.”

Then, Swift delivered country music’s most magical moment of the weekend, surprising the ecstatic audience with a visit from Faith Hill and Tim McGraw. The couple joined in on — you guessed it — Swift’s 2006 country hit, “Tim McGraw.” Tens of thousands of fans lost their shit. The woman sitting behind us started sobbing. Our ears are still ringing from the applause.

While Swift’s simultaneously endearing and tongue-in-cheek recognition of her career's ups and downs may have taken center stage, it was the small nods to her own personal growth that were the most satisfying to see. Swift's band and army of dancers and singers were diverse in size, race and age. And unlike so many other stadium shows, where the opening acts take a very (very very very) distant backseat to the main attraction, Swift's show featured hit factory Charli XCX and former Fifth Harmony singer and VMA Artist of the Year Camila Cabello — both women of color — in beefy opening slots.

Charli XCX at Nissan Stadium PHOTO: LANCE CONZETT

Charli XCX came off as your hyper, party-obsessed BFF from the future, and Cabella's Cuban-influenced set was fun and theatrical while also showcasing her stunning, rich voice. It wouldn't be surprising to see Cabella hold down her own stadium tour someday. The two singers returned to the stage to help Swift out during a colorful, confetti-filled performance of “Shake It Off” (cue the snakes!) and all three took time to note how honored and empowered they felt by the stacked bill — "Not one, not two, but three badass women on one stage,” said Charli XCX.

In the past, those slots have gone to white men. The openers for her 2015 North American 1989 Tour were Shawn Mendes and Vance Joy. (Rae Morris played one date, and Haim played several, including the Bridgestone Arena shows.) And in 2013-14, Ed Sheeran, Brett Eldredge, Florida Georgia Line, Casey James and Austin Mahone, among others, took turns starting the show for the Red Tour's North American dates.

Even off the stage, Swift has taken meaningful steps. In March, after the mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Fla., she posted on Instagram that she made a donation to the March for Our Lives campaign, saying, “I’m so moved by the Parkland High School students, faculty, by all families and friends of victims who have spoken out, trying to prevent this from happening again.” And in April, which is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, Swift reportedly made a “generous donation” to the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network.

Much of the initial criticism of Swift’s dramatic return to the public eye in 2017 was focused on how the singer has neglected to take a stance on anything remotely political — something the Scene's own Megan Seling has noted. It's encouraging to see Swift counter that with action.

Sure, Swift is still obsessed with her image. The show started with audio clips of things newscasters and critics have said over the years (including Perez Hilton alleging that Swift was responsible for his suspension from Twitter — LOL). But it appears as though she's at least starting to think about what other messages she can send to her legions of fans. Big platforms — whether they're the kind that spout flames and giant snakes or not — can be used to make a big difference, and it's heartening to see a homegrown megastar turn her attention toward their power.

See our slideshow for more photos.

Nashville Scene

#taylor swift #reputation tour #nashville #tennessee #2018.08.25

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