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captainsophiestark · 5 months

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Each Others' Constants

Annabeth Chase x Platonic!Reader

Gif is originally from this really cool Happy Birthday Annabeth post! Go check it out and give the creator some love!

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Written for Fictober 2022! Requested by Anon :)

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Prompt: “I’m not alone and neither are you”

Summary: Y/N first came to Camp with Annabeth, Thalia, Luke, and Grover. Their lives have all taken very different, winding paths, with many ups and downs, and after the betrayal of Luke, Y/N’s first boyfriend, they decided to go far, far away from Camp Half-Blood for college. They come back regularly, but when they return for the winter break of their senior year, after the Battle of New York, they realize they might need to make a point of coming home a little more often.

Word Count: 2,464

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: Major spoilers for Percy Jackson and the Olympians series, if you haven’t read it, and spoilers for the beginning of HoO! If you haven’t read either, check them out, they’re great!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I came to a stop at the top of Half-Blood Hill and put my hands on my hips as I looked down into the valley below, a smile on my face. I looked over my shoulder to find the cab driver still staring at me, a curious look on his face, so I gave him a cheery wave. He scowled back at me and then drove off, like a typical New Yorker.

I’d missed it here.

Camp Half-Blood had been like a home to me for years. I’d first arrived eight years ago with a group of other Half-Bloods and our Satyr, and over that time, a lot had changed.

Thalia, one of my best friends, had died and come back to life. Grover, my other best friend, became a member of the Council of Cloven Elders. Luke, my former friend and first boyfriend, had turned traitor only to give his life defeating Kronos. And Annabeth, my baby sister in everything but blood, had grown up into an incredible, beautiful, strong young woman.

I couldn’t have been more proud of her.

As for me, I’d left Camp Half-Blood just before Luke had turned traitor, about four years ago now. Instead of staying around the Camp I’d basically grown up in, I’d left for college, deciding to go abroad and see the world after so many years in the same place, happy but afraid of the outside world. I’d come back last summer, to help fight the Battle of New York, only to leave again once the dust had settled for my senior year of college.

Now, I’d just gotten back for winter break. Camp Half-Blood had been my only family for a while now, so of course, I’d come back to spend it with them. Our normal protective bubble had let just the lightest dusting of snow in, and in the wake of the changes Percy, Annabeth’s boyfriend, had called for after the Battle of New York, the Camp was livelier than I’d ever seen it in the middle of the winter.

I took one last beat to survey the scene in front of me, then started heading down the snow-covered hill to say hello to everyone. They’d known I was coming back for the holidays, but so far, no one had noticed my arrival.

As I got closer and closer to the Big House and the familiar (but newly expanded) ring of cabins, I started to get a little worried about why that might be. I could feel a tension in the air that had only ever meant something bad in my experience here, and as I got closer the tone of voices coming from the people rushing about sounded more urgent than excited.

“Hey!” I called, stopping the first camper I came across. I didn’t recognize her, which felt a little strange, since I used to know everyone at Camp, especially those who stayed over the winter holidays. I pushed the thought out of my mind however as I noticed her worriedly looking behind her, like she had somewhere to be. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know…” she started, giving me a bit of a suspicious look. I stared right back, and after a second, she apparently decided I probably wouldn’t have been able to get into Camp if I’d been a threat. “I woke up and everyone was freaking out about something. One of my friends said they heard somebody’s missing, but I don’t know who.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. We’d just survived a war. We did NOT need some new danger, especially not so soon.

“Where’s Annabeth?” I demanded. “Or Grover, or Chiron?”

“I don’t know… you could always check the Athena Cabin?”

I grit my teeth, incredibly frustrated but trying not to take it out on some kid who’d done her best.

“Alright, thanks,” I said, then took off without another word. If Annabeth had gone missing, especially while I’d been away, traveling the world instead of here, with her…

“Y/N!”

I turned around at the sound of my name to see Malcolm Pace, one of the Athena kids around the same age as Annabeth, speedwalking towards me. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or more concerned.

“Malcolm! What’s happening? I found a camper who said someone was missing-”

“Percy. Percy went missing sometime last night.”

I put a hand to my forehead, trying to process the news. My gut reaction was incredible relief that it wasn’t Annabeth, but that quickly faded back into a horrible, sick feeling. I loved Percy like a little brother too, and he and Annabeth had finally gotten to their happy ending. This was not good, in any way.

“Annabeth’s in the Athena Cabin,” he said, taking a step towards me and Cabin 6. “I think you should probably come see her.”

I nodded, dropping my hand from my forehead and letting the urgency of the situation clear my mind. I could sort through the worry and fear later. Right now, there were things that needed doing.

First and foremost, checking on Annabeth.

I marched through Camp with Malcolm, laser-focused on my goal. I passed a few other campers I knew and we exchanged curt nods, but neither of us tried to stop and chat. We all knew there were more important things going on now. Hopefully, we’d have the time for small talk later.

We reached the Athena Cabin, and I found a few younger, worried-looking campers hovering outside. I headed for the door and Malcolm made to follow me, but I paused and put a hand up.

“Malc, I think it might be a good idea if I go in and talk to her alone, for a second,” I said. Malcolm nodded and took a step back.

“Of course,” he said, then turned to the campers still hovering around the door. “C'mon guys, let’s go check in with Chiron and see if there’s something productive we can do to help.”

I nodded my thanks to him as he rounded up the stragglers and got them to leave, then turned back to the door. I took a deep breath, then opened it and stepped inside.

I found Annabeth in the middle of the room, papers and notes spread out all around her. She wore one of Percy’s favorite hoodies, and my heart broke a little at the sight.

“Annabeth?” I said, my voice quiet as I slowly approached her. She whirled around as soon as she saw me, and even though I’d seen her just a few months ago, I couldn’t help being struck with the realization of just how grown up she was now. It felt like yesterday she was a little seven year old wielding a ball peen hammer, ready to brain Luke, Thalia, and I when we’d first found her. Now, she was a junior in high school and almost as tall as me.

And she looked absolutely heartbroken.

“Y/N,” she breathed, staring through me as much as she was staring at me. Her blonde hair was a mess in its pony tail, and she had mascara smeared around her eyes like she’d been rubbing at them. I took a few more steps across the room, and she didn’t move an inch the whole time. Finally, I got close enough to pull her into a hug. As soon as I wrapped my arms around her, she collapsed into me, and I could feel her sobbing even though the tears were silent.

“Oh, Beth…” I breathed as I held her tighter. I wanted to take the pain away, but I knew from plenty of experience that there was nothing I could do except be there for her.

We stayed like that for a few long minutes, not speaking, and I could tell this was an emotion dump that Annabeth had been fighting off for a long, long time. Finally, though, she shifted a little bit, resting her head on my shoulder as the tears slowly calmed.

“We were supposed to be done with this,” she finally muttered. I rubbed calm, slow circles on her back as she continued. “When we beat Kronos in New York, it was supposed to be over. Some terrible prophecy from Rachel for the next generation of demigods. Not us.”

“It’s not fair,” I echoed, squeezing her as tight as I could. “It’s total bullshit that after everything you’ve been through, you have to deal with something else, Annabeth.”

She took a few more shaky breaths, but didn’t pull away from me. She breathed in like she was getting ready to say something, but then paused. I stayed silent, waiting, letting her take her time. Finally she breathed, barely above a whisper, “I’m just sick of feeling so alone. With Percy, I finally stopped being alone.”

My heart shattered in my chest, and I had to fight back a few tears of my own at her words. I could deal with my own emotions later, but right now, Annabeth needed me.

“Why did you feel alone before Percy?” I asked, being careful to keep any kind of judgment or opinion out of my tone. She shuddered, and I held her closer, trying to give her all the love and support I could without saying words. She didn’t pull away to look at me as she responded, her words half-mumbled like thoughts she was still working through.

“When I was a kid, we had such a clear, close group, you know?” she started. “It was you, me, Luke, Thals, and Grover against the world. And then… and then Thalia died. And Grover started working on other assignments and his own quests and goals. And… and you and Luke… got together, and you always included me, but… it wasn’t the same. And after Luke’s quest, he started getting more distant anyway, and then you left for school and Luke turned on all of us, and I’ve made other friends here, but… for most of my life, I’ve had to rely on myself. Take care of myself, be enough for myself. And I am enough for myself. But with Percy… it finally felt like I had a partner to go through everything with. And now, after we survived a war together, he’s gone. And I’m alone again.”

I waited as Annabeth finished her statement, gathering my thoughts and just in case she had something else to say. When she didn’t continue, I held her a little tighter, then spoke.

“Annabeth… I’ve felt that. A while ago and even this past semester away from Camp. I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but… I remember when Luke started pulling away, after his failed quest. He was my partner in things, we told each other everything. But after that, he stopped talking to me. A little wall went up, and no matter what I did to try to tear it down, it was always there. It only got worse as time went on, and then as you know, we both basically lost him for good when he joined Kronos.”

Annabeth took a shaky breath, and I held her a little tighter, as much for my own comfort as hers. I’d worked through a lot of the trauma that had come from everything to do with Luke for the past few years, but not all of it. Still, I shook it off as well as I could and continued.

“Even in college, it’s been the same thing,” I said. “I’ve gone to all kinds of new places and met so many interesting people, but there’s a big part of who I am that I just… can’t share with them. I’m independent, and I’m glad I’m independent, but… I understand feeling like you’re not really connecting with anyone as deeply as you want to. And it sucks.

"But you will always have me, Annabeth. Just like I’ll always have you. And we will find Percy, and then you’ll have him too. No matter how much it feels like it sometimes Annabeth, I’m not alone and neither are you.”

Now it was Annabeth’s turn to squeeze me tight, so hard it almost hurt. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. After a few long moments, where plenty of things passed between us even without speaking, we finally pulled apart enough to look at each other. Annabeth still didn’t look happy, but she seemed more determined and settled in herself. That shattered look I’d seen when I’d first come through the door was gone.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she said. I gave her a light squeeze.

“Always. And hey, I promise I’m going to make more of a point of staying in touch while I’m gone, alright? This semester especially, I think I was running from… well, almost everything associated with Camp Half-Blood and all the history and pain that comes with it. But I don’t ever want to run from you. So letters, more frequent visits, an illegal cellphone, whatever. Whatever it takes to stay more in touch, yeah?”

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Now let’s see what your notes are looking like on the Percy situation, huh? We’ve got a son of Poseidon to track down.”

Annabeth nodded and we finally broke completely apart as she turned to start taking me through all the notes, clues, and evidence she’d gathered so far. I stood by her side as she walked me through it all, and whenever it looked like she might be overwhelmed again, I put a hand on her shoulder and did what I could to keep her calm.

Annabeth deserved nothing but happiness, especially after everything she’d already been through. But if problems and trouble were going to keep popping up and getting in her way, then I was going to be right by her side, through all of it. No matter what.

We’d find Percy, and Annabeth would get her partner back. But I made a vow as we stood in that room, pouring over information and trying to reason out where Percy might be, that I was never disappearing on my little sister again. No matter what directions our lives took us in, or how separate our paths became, I would always be there for her. We’d been the only real constants in each others’ lives for about a decade now, and we were going to stay that way for many more decades to come.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

Percy Jackson Taglist: @valkyriepirate

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morningrainmusic · 2 months

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Peak Indie Rock: 2007

Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer by of Montreal January 7, 2007 / Polyvinyl Around 2005, of Montreal founder Kevin Barnes (who now uses the pronouns they/them) had just become a parent and was worried about supporting their family as a musician. Fortunately of Montreal was starting to take off. The Sunlandic Twins, the band’s seventh album, was doing well and Barnes was being asked to play larger shows. Touring, however, meant being away from home for long stretches, which took a toll on Barnes’ relationship with their wife and ultimately led to a split. She went back to her home country of Norway while Barnes stayed in Athens, Georgia where he recorded much of Hissing Fauna and began to mentally unravel. The record is a document of all-consuming anxiety and depression set to Prince, Abba, and Bee Gees-inspired psychedelic pop. It’s hard to think of an album with a wider chasm between the mood of the music (upbeat, happy) and the lyrics (dark, desperate). On “Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse” Barnes pleads to the chemicals in their brain, as well as those in his antidepressants to bring about a positive shift in their state of mind. It’s one of the most infectiously hooky songs on the album, and it begins with the line “I’m in a crisis, I need help.” “A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger” goes full disco, featuring jubilant strings and lyrics about spending a winter in Norway on the verge a mental breakdown. It’s an absolutely bonkers album with a handful of genuinely funny lines, often juxtaposed next to lyrics about crippling despair. At the midway point, "The Past Is a Grotesque Animal,” Barnes transforms into George Fruit, an alter-ego they created for the record, a glamorous black trans-person helped them escape their bleak mental state. It’s the most intense song on the album, a twelve minute-long krautrock barnburner with the same four repeating chords and a bevy of digital “oohs.” This is a mental breakdown in musical form, with Barnes directly addressing his wife and the very messy dissolution of their relationship, Virgina Woolf references and all. It is an entrancing outpouring of emotional turmoil. The second half of Hissing Fauna has some terrific moments, but as a whole it’s not as strong as the first. A few years ago Barnes expressed regret over the problematic Georgie Fruit character, thought I’m not sure anyone was calling for an apology. Of Montreal is still going strong (they released album number eighteen in 2022) and Kevin Barnes is seemingly in a much better place mentally. They will likely never put out another record quite like Hissing Fauna, and maybe that’s a good thing. Further listening: Life of the Record podcast Sound of Silver by LCD Soundsystem March 12, 2007 / DFA

2007 was a landmark year with dozens of events, big and small, that still echo through history today. Apple’s first iPhone. Bush deployed over 20,000 more soldier in Iraq. It’s also the year he signed the “Protect America Act,” legalizing domestic wiretapping and email surveillance. The Virginia Tech massacre rocked the nation. Netflix launched its streaming service. Nancy Pelosi became the House of Representatives’ first female speaker. Tumblr was born (you’re on it now!). It was an incredible movie year. "Crank That (Soulja Boy)” became a viral and radio hit. Bob Barker hosted his final episode of The Price is Right. The Big Bang Theory premiered—and Sheldons of varying ages still haunt our nation seventeen years later. Our world was changing, as it always is, but looking back the changes in 2007 may have been coming more rapidly than usual. Some of these news stories may seem quaint by 2024 standards, but at the time there was a palpable feeling of uneasiness…of darkness. Enter Sound of Silver, the sophomore album from Brooklyn’s LCD Soundsystem.This album didn’t really engage with current events or have much of anything to say about the winds of change. But it gets people dancing, and it can’t be overstated how much that’s needed during times of crisis. Coincidentally, most of James Murphy’s songs are about crises of varying flavors whether that be getting away from his greedy a-hole manager or dealing with loss of a confidant or fearing getting older. The closing track, “New York, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down,” is a clear-eyed and fatigued examination of his home city, all its romance and disappointing banality. Crucially, as loaded with ideas and astute observations as Sound of Silver is, it’s still first and foremost a dance record; something you can put on and groove to without reflecting on such weighty topics. But if you want to, it’s great for that too. The title track stands out as the most relevant to this exercise in exploring music from my teenage years. Does Sound of Silver make me feel (or want to feel) like a teenager? Not really because I wasn’t yet listening to LCD Soundsystem in high school. If I could go back though, which to be clear, I wouldn’t particularly want to, I would definitely pick up a copy of Sound of Silver.

Because of the Times by Kings of Leon April 2, 2007 / RCA

Kings of Leon were often referred to as the southern Strokes, but what they really were in 2007 were Britain’s not-so-secret darlings. The appreciation did not go unacknowledged by the band. “Fans” serves as an homage to Kings’ vocal UK fanbase, with Caleb Followill singing in his distinctive drawl “those rainy days they ain't so bad when you're the King / the King they want to see.” The states caught up the following year when KoL released their commercial peak Only by the Night, but Because of the Times remains the band’s best.

Boxer by The National May 22, 2007 / Beggars Banquet

Greatest album of all time.

For Emma, Forever Ago by Bon Iver July 8, 2007 / Self-released/Jagjaguwar

If you’re a fan of Bon Iver, you know the For Emma backstory. Over the years it has become the closest thing we have to modern musical lore. Here’s how it goes: twenty five year old musician Justin Vernon was living in Raleigh, North Carolina depressed by the circumstances of his life. He found himself compromising musically, considered his work mediocre, and got kicked out of his band. He contracted pneumonia and mononucleosis, broke up with his girlfriend, and packed up his recording equipment in his car to return to his hometown of Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Once there, he retreated to his father’s hunting cabin where he planned to lay low for a few weeks. He ended up staying for three months in the unforgiving midwestern winter, completely alone, aside from his dad stopping by every ten days or so to drop off beer, eggs, and cheese. Eventually, he started writing and recording the songs that became For Emma Forever Ago. If you read interviews with Vernon from the For Emma days, you get a good grasp on how miserable this time in his life was. The whole backstory has been romanticized to hell, and of course it has, because the music is brilliant and the narrative is compelling. "It's sort of odd to look back and see it as magical,” Vernon said, “because it felt like a lonely few months at the cabin, where I plugged in the laptop and fucked around.” This fucking around on a laptop was Vernon’s only saving grace—throwing himself into a creative outlet, working 14 hour days which at times made him feel “a little insane.” Ultimately though, it was an enriching outlet that helped drag him out of his depression. Perhaps that’s why the music itself is not downtrodden and depressing. This is not uplifting fare, necessarily, but none of it is sad either. The title track, with its lovely strum pattern and horns (added later by friends after a few glasses of whiskey) is downright joyful. Even “Re: Stacks” which closes out the album and addresses Vernon’s online poker addiction has an optimistic tone. It is a perfect ending to a damn-near perfect record.

Good Bad Not Evil by Black Lips September 11, 2007 / Vice The Clash were referred to as “the only band that matters” and the Black Lips may be the only punk band that matters today. Not because they’re making grand political statements or reinventing the wheel. Make no mistake, they are doing neither. They matter because they are one of the few great punk acts making great music that doesn’t take itself too seriously. In fact, none of the songs on Good Bad Not Evil (title copped from a Shangri-Las song) take themselves seriously at all. This is a band that circa 2007 was known for various onstage antics including, but not limited to “vomiting, urination, nudity, RC car races, fireworks, a chicken, flaming guitars,” etc (that’s straight from their Wikipedia page). That may sound undignified or crass, but so is plenty of rock and roll. And the tunes follow suit. If “How Do You Tell A Child Someone Has Died” doesn’t make you chuckle, you probably have a lousy sense of humor. If an ode to juvenile hijinks like “Bad Kids” doesn’t stir some feelings of misplaced youthful rebellion, you may not have a soul. This is fun, sophomoric garage punk at its very best. Oracular Spectacular by MGMT October 2, 2007 / Columbia

Has Oracular Spectacular aged well? I’m probably not the best person to answer that question with any kind of objectivity, as this album ranks highly among the most formative of my youth. I still love it. It’s an essential work of synth-pop/psych rock that will eternally be an undeniable classic. Though when I think about it in 2024, I can’t help but feel distracted from the music itself and more focused on how it’s perceived today by the larger culture. I fear a future in which some bullshit term like “Urban Outfitters-core” is used to describe a past era of indie music as dated and cringe, with the album art for Oracular Spectacular becoming a visual shorthand equivalent of “Ok boomer” but for millennials. Even this aesthetic label, nowadays often applied to 2000s music, largely positively, bothers me. So much so, in fact, that I refuse to type it here. I could be fearful of this for other great albums from the oughts, but MGMT’s debut seems the most likely to fall victim to this kind of dismissive pigeonholing. Lest we forget, it was huge. “Kids” and “Electric Feel” were basically ubiquitous. So was “Time to Pretend,” which popped up in a fuck-ton of movies, TV shows, video games, and commercials. It was just used in Saltburn last year, further solidifying it as a go-to signifier of the mid to late-oughts in the same way any given CCR song must soundtrack the Vietnam War in movies. The band opened for Paul McCartney at Fenway Park in 2009. Jay-Z asked them to make a song for The Blueprint 3 (he scrapped it). This level of fame and commercial success was I’m sure amazing for Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldwassers pockets, but not so good for their minds and souls. They’ve gone on record numerous times as being uncomfortable with the unexpected amount of exposure they received and, creatively, were clearly disinterested in trying to do anything like Oracular’s three big hits ever again. I recall choruses of disappointed fans around 2009-2012 complaining online, “I saw MGMT and they didn’t even play ‘Kids’…what the fuck??” So this is the strange dilemma MGMT found itself in during the heyday of indie blog rock. Oracular Spectacular catapulted VanWyngarden and Goldwasser into the limelight on the backs of three throwaway pop songs written essentially as a joke in their Wesleyan University dorm rooms. In the span of three years they went from singing Pulp covers at college parties backed by an iPod to opening for of Montreal, still backed by an iPod to signing with Columbia and recording their first album with the legendary Dave Fridmann. Soon they were playing major festivals and touring with Radiohead. If they had any idea they would become so big so fast, they probably would have made a very different album. Or maybe taken it more seriously. But that’s part of what makes Oracular Spectacular such a sublime album. It’s not serious (see also my previous thoughts on the Black Lips). This is the work of guys in their early twenties dicking around in the studio with the dude who produced Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. Look at their weirdo tribal hippie get-ups on the cover, watch one of the music videos, note how they wore capes on Letterman. Gen-Z or whoever else can make fun of it all they want…the band was ostensibly making fun of themselves in the first place. What else makes it outstanding?The seven other tracks I haven’t already mentioned. Just listen to them, I’m not going to write about them. MGMT’s story is fascinating in that it is so wildly unlikely in just about every conceivable way. They became massive on accident and will almost certainly never put out another album as successful as Oracular Spectacular.

In Rainbows by Radiohead October 10, 2007 / Self-released/ATO Radiohead’s Ed O’Brien said in 2008, “I never felt we were one of the great bands, up there with The Smiths or R.E.M. In my view, we’ve made three really good records The Bends, OK Computer and Kid A. What we needed was another great record just to seal it.” In Rainbows sealed it. For many, this album would be the bedrock of an argument for 2007 as the greatest year for indie rock. They’d have a strong case there. In his book This Isn’t Happening, Steven Hyden claims In Rainbows is the most beloved album in the Radiohead catalogue, even more than OK Computer and Kid A. That was published in 2020 and its become even more true in the ensuing years. In Rainbows didn’t have the kind of monumental career-making impact of OK Computer, or the prophetic, monolithic reputation of the genre-morphing Kid A. But it is arguably the most gorgeous collection of songs Radiohead ever released—each one taps into something deeply human and universal, without ever clearly being about anything specific. Yorke described the lyrics as based on “that anonymous fear thing, sitting in traffic, thinking, 'I'm sure I'm supposed to be doing something else’…It's similar to OK Computer in a way. It's much more terrifying." I’m not sure the manner in which In Rainbows was released has any influence on how the music is perceived today, but at the time it cast a wide shadow. Radiohead were not the first artist to release their music online as a pay-what-you-want download—Jeff Rosenstock, for one, already had been doing it for a while—but they were the biggest. The degree to which this choice influenced the way we think about and value music today, or whether it played a role in ushering in the streaming era is entirely up for debate. In my opinion, if it wasn’t Radiohead, it would’ve been some other major established musician. What I am sure of is that there is nothing else quite like In Rainbows in the history of rock music, and it will stand the test of time.

#2007 #indie rock #albums #listicle #lists

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jawabear · 3 years

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1 of 10 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Not my GIF (look at this man...)

A/N: so here’s that Bucky fic I’ve been talking about. This took me too long to write but I like it? I’m absolutely loving Falcon and The Winter Soldier! I’ve mentioned this before but Bucky Barnes is my all time favourite fictional character. This is set before the events of episode one but maybe like a week or so before. I hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, tfatws spoilers, Bucky being awkward, nightmares, therapy, Bucky isn’t as smooth as he was in the 40s but he’s still cute

Summary: Bucky has ten contacts in his phone. One of which belongs the the girl he feels he has been searching for for 106 long years.

The times in which he found himself now were more than confusing. But that was the best way Bucky could think to describe them. For him though it seemed a lot worse than for others. For others, they had a gap of five years missing. For Bucky, he had far more than that.

From 1943 to 2023 there was a lot missing. He remembered it however. He remembered everything. The good, the bad, and the horrifying. What was meant by missing was that it wasn’t him who was living. He had missed out on living between those years. He had missed out on everything. And he knew, like the billions of others, he would never get those years back.

But now he was a civilian. Working to make amends from his past after being given a pardon. However, settling into his new easy life was proving far from that. It had been a few months now since the whole ordeal with saving the blipped half of humanity, Bucky included, and it had been a few months now since Steve went back in time and started a new life leaving him and Sam behind.

Sam. Right.

Sam was an avenger. More so than Bucky could ever be. So he was off doing his avenging work while Steve’s shield gathered dust in a wardrobe somewhere he was sure. Sam didn’t have it in him to take up the mantle of Captain America. He felt the shield belonged to someone else. It was Steve’s. It only ever could be.

More often than perhaps Bucky would like, he would get texts from Sam. Asking him how he was and telling him about missions he was going on. Bucky never replied. He didn’t know how to half the time and he didn’t want to.

He didn’t know how he was. He didn’t know if he was okay. He was forced to go see a therapist but all he did was lie to her.

“Have you had any nightmares recently?” She would ask him.

Bucky would think back to the night before their meeting and all the others as well. Each night he’d have to be faced with the horrors of his past. Every mission he carried out. Every person he carelessly killed.

“No” he would answer. And it wasn’t like he was wrong in his answer. The things he saw in his sleep were not nightmares they were memories. The nightmarish horrors he was were his reality, so when he said no in response to her question, he found it difficult to be accused of lying.

There were few things he could agree with her about. But the one thing he could see eye to eye with her about was the fact he was alone.

Sure, he had Sam. But only when Bucky wanted to acknowledge him which had not been often as of recently. And as his therapist so kindly pointed out he only had ten contacts on his phone. But in his defence, he still wasn’t used to the whole world of mobile communications and internet. So his phone was basically redundant to him. His mind was still in the 1940s where you’d find a date, what would now be classed as, the old fashioned way. By looking in person and talking. Not just texting or swiping left or right on an app.

Granted, Bucky did try his hand in online dating but it was far too much for him. It wasn’t only hard for him to figure out but also he saw too much of people he didn’t even know. The openness of the internet was something that was mind boggling to him. So that was thrown out of the window pretty quickly.

But what his therapist had failed to note was one name in his contacts. The name of his neighbour and quite possibly the one he wanted to end his loneliness with.

Back in his time, when he didn’t just have the looks of someone in their 20s, Bucky was in fact quite popular and good with the ladies. But the ladies, he found, of this new age were completely different to the ones of his time. Not that there was a problem, he just knew that he couldn’t used the same moves now as what he could back then.

He met (Y/N), his neighbour, as he was first moving in. After coming back, loosing Steve and getting a pardon, Bucky thought it be best to try and start a new. He did that by moving back to his old home of Brooklyn. His old apartment was obviously gone and with little money to his name he couldn’t afford the one that replaced it. It was far to big for him anyway. But he managed to find a smaller more affordable one and he much preferred it. If not only for the quieter location then the others in the building too.

(Y/N) was the first person he spoke too when back in Brooklyn. She was sweet and kind when introducing herself. She offered to help him move in but he really didn’t have that much stuff to use in making his new apartment more homely. And he had no food either. So (Y/N) did the neighbourly thing and invited him in for some food. A meal of sorts although she didn’t have much food either at the time. Even so, it was nice for him to be in company for once. And it was such warm company. They didn’t speak about much but he learnt a few things about her.

And now, on most Thursday evenings, he’ll find himself with her in her apartment eating a meal, sometimes she’ll cook, sometimes they’ll order take out, but he enjoys it regardless.

It was clear from the offset that she knew who he was. He frantically explained to her that he wasn’t what he used to be anymore and explained the terms of his pardon and how he’s making amends. But he needn’t have waste his breath on it. She didn’t seem to care about it. About who he used to be. She told him that she doesn’t live in peoples pasts and that she wanted to get to know him for who he is, not who he was. Those words meant a great deal to him. And from that moment on he had fallen for her.

Bucky sighed as he dragged himself up the stairs to his floor. He desperately wished there was some way of getting out of these therapy sessions. But he was tied to them. He couldn’t stop going to them even though he wanted too. But there, it wasn’t really like he had anything better to do. Nothing but either sitting at home in silence or walking around busy streets constantly looking over his shoulder. Those were his only other options.

As he walked to his apparent at the end of the hallway (Y/N)’s door opened and she walked out dressed for the outdoors, it was getting cold so it was smart of her to be wearing a warm coat. “(Y/N)” he called gently to her. She lifted her head after locking her door and gave him a warm smile.

“Hi James” She said, she always called him James rather than Bucky. He didn’t know why but he didn’t exactly mind. “How was your session today?” She had memorised the times at which he went to his therapy sessions. She probably knew he schedule better than he did.

Bucky shrugged “the usual” he told her making her laugh a little.

“That bad huh?”

“I guess” he said scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m heading to the store to get some food if you wanted to talk on the way? Don’t feel you have to”

“No, that sounds good” he tried to smile but it was a little awkward, but she didn’t seem to say anything and just motioned her head for him to follow.

The shop wasn’t too far away so it was a quick walk. Bucky wasn’t the talkative type, not really anyway. Especially not to someone he didn’t like. And Dr Raynor was someone who he didn’t like. He was sure that deep down she was a lovely person but he didn’t like the fact she was insistent in getting him to admit his feelings. Although that was her job.

It wasn’t long until they arrived at the store “so what happened?” (Y/N) asked as she picked up a basket.

“Just the usual...she asked me if I had a nightmare-“

“Did you?” Bucky didn’t answer and just looked away from her. “James, you know that it’s her job to help you. And it’s in your best interest to let her”

“I know...but at the same time...I don’t see the point. These things are mandatory. So if I don’t want to go then I don’t see it being helpful”

“I can understand that” her eyes flicking between two boxes of cereal as she inwardly decried in which one to get, but her indecisive nature got the better of her so she opted to get both. Her indecisiveness, Bucky thought, was incredibly cute. It linked in with her kindness, on their Thursday evening meals together it takes ages just to decide what to have. “But still,” she continued, Bucky following her like a lost puppy “like you said, it’s mandatory. And there are people who would love to be in your position. Getting therapy I mean. So you should at least make the most of it while you can”

“I mean...yeah. I guess. But...I don’t know I just...well it’s easier to talk to someone like you then it is to talk to her” (Y/N) smiled at little at this as she finished putting on the last few items before making her way to the till.

Neither of them said much else. Expect for (Y/N) making light conversation with the cashier as she paid although both (Y/N) and Bucky knew that the cashier really didn’t want to be there. Luckily it didn’t take long for (Y/N) to bag her items and pay for them before they were both leaving the store.

It had gotten colder outside then when they left originally. (Y/N) shivered and pulled her coat around her a little more before they both began walking back to their apartment building.

“So what is it about me that makes you find it easier to talk?” She asked, she brushed her hair from her face as a sudden gust of wind blew it out of place when she turned to look at him.

“Well...” he muttered shoving his hands into his pockets “for one, you don’t sit there with a passive aggressive notebook ready to write shit about me” this made her laugh a little, she always found it funny when he’d talk about this notebook Dr Raynor had. She didn’t really know why he hated it so much, and she knew she shouldn’t have found it funny but he never stopped her from laughing about it, in fact often times he would join in thereby encouraging her.

“Yes, that is something better I guess. Although, I’m sure I could find a notebook if you wanted” she teased.

“Oh god. Please don’t” He said holding back a smile.

“Anything else?” She asked him.

Bucky thought for a moment. There were many things about her that made it easier for him to talk to her, but he couldn’t list them all. For one, that would be embarrassing, and two he didn’t think he’d have the breath to do it. “Well-“

He was cut off when he saw (Y/N)’s smile fall and her pace began to slow right down to a stop. Bucky stopped and looked at her “everything okay?” He asked her, his voice full of concern.

She turned sharply to the side so she was facing the road “y-yeah..” she stuttered nervously “just...my ex is walking this way and I really don’t want him to see me”

Bucky felt a strange feeling inside him. He didn’t even know she had been in a relationship. It must’ve been a recent thing right? Unless it was a really bad break up in the past, or this guy had done something to her to prompt her being so on edge. Bucky turned to try and scope out this guy but he didn’t have a clue what he was looking for. So he reached over to her and pulled up her hood on her hoodie that she wore under her coat and pulled her into his side so that her face was hidden from view.

“Tell me when he’s gone” Bucky muttered to her. She nodded her head and let him walk her along the path, she kept her eye on the path ahead as best she could while still covering her face. But she was now more focused on two things, his arm around her and his wonderful smell. Never did she think she’d ever get this close to him. She never thought he’d let her, but here she was attached to his side with his arm wrapped around her, holding her protectively against him.

And his smell. It was just as comforting as she dreamed it would be. A mix of his cologne and what she could only describe as Him. All she wanted to do now was to just melt into his strong and warm embrace and just stay there forever.

In all her daydreaming she didn’t notice that her ex had long since walked by and they had reached the entrance to their apartment building and she didn’t tell him he could let go or that it was safe for her to walk properly.

Bucky came to a stop and slowly slipped his arm from her “I mean...I take it he’s gone now right?” He said a little nervously. (Y/N) stood up straight and pushed the hood from her head and nodded quickly, her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“Yeah. Yes, right. Sorry. Yes. He’s gone. I um...I just wanted to make sure he didn’t suddenly turn around you know? That’s all” she said in an unconvincing tone. But Bucky himself was too flustered to actually care that she was flustered as well.

“Of course, that’s smart. Well we made it back” he said stepping up to the door and pushing it open for her. She nodded and thank you and quickly hopped inside the building, Bucky following after her.

The walk up the stairs was an awkward silence. They felt like teenagers after their first ever date. Who says something first? What do they even say? Luckily for them, this wasn’t a first date, and they weren’t teenagers. They were fully grown, mature adults. But that doesn’t mean adults can’t get flustered in the presence of their crush...right?

After what felt like hours, but was more like five painstaking minuets, they finally got to their floor and walked down the hall, both briefly forgetting that they lived right next to each other.

(Y/N) stopped at her door and placed her bag of food on the floor to fish out her keys from her pocket. “Uh...you want to come in?” She asked whilst fiddling around in her pocket to find the keys. “I know it’s not Thursday but we didn’t really talk as much as usual...” her voice seemed to trail off as she finally found her keys and put them in the key hole before unlocking the door. “You don’t have too..”

“I’d...like to...” he said in a soft voice with a gentle smile to try and put her at ease even though he too was freaking out inside. She smiled back and picked up her bag before walking inside her apartment, he did too.

They both made their way into her small kitchen and he made himself at home by sitting in his usual seat at her white kitchen table and she began to unpack the shopping “Do you want me to help?” He asked her as he went to stand up but she waved off his offer.

“No no, it’s fine. There’s only a few bits anyway” she told him as she began to pack each item away in its rightful place.

“So uh...” Bucky began quietly as he scraped his metal finger again the wood table. “This ex of yours...what’s the story there?”

Bucky was a little cautious of his words. He didn’t want to say anything to hurt or offend her but at the same time he wanted to know what about the guy made her so on edge earlier.

“Oh uh...” she muttered as she pulled two cups from her cupboard.

“You don’t need to tell me if you want want to. Sorry..”

“It’s fine” she assured him “nothing really happened I guess. It was just a bad break up. He didn’t really take it well and for a few weeks after that he just kept texting me and trying to call me. He came round to my place too to try and get me back. He never did know how to take no for an answer. But about a month ago he finally got the message and stopped all contact with me. Seeing him today...I was just worried that he’d try it all again”

“He sounds like a real asshole” Bucky said flatly making her laugh a little as she went about making some tea for the both of them. “But in his defence, if I lost a girl like you, I’d struggle with taking no for an answer as well”

(Y/N) let out a nervous laugh and almost dropped his tea cup from the shock of his comment but she was a little more used to his flirtatious nature that would sometimes make an appearance when they were in her apartment. After he told her about his boyish charms back in the 40s she noticed how he would often slip back into that era. It was cute to say the least.

She set down his tea in front of him and he flashed her a “thank you” smile before wrapping his fingers around it.

There was a brief silence in the room. She was greatly over thinking is earlier comment. But so was he. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it. He meant it though. But what if he had pushed the limit a little too far?

“What was the other reason?” She asked him, her finger nail scratching again the tea cup trying to avoid eye contact with him at all costs.

“Huh?” He questioned looking over the table to her.

“Earlier. You were going to give me another reason why I’m easier to talk to. What was it?”

Bucky’s muscles tensed as his fingers gripped the tea cup handle as he stared into the black tea she had made for him. “If I’m being honest...” he began slowly “I think...there are too many reasons why I find talking to you easier. But I guess one is that you don’t do it because you have to or it’s your job to. You do it out of kindness. And it’s...easier to talk to someone who’s listening because they want to. And yes, I get that Dr Raynor probably does want to help me but I also know that at the end of the day, it’s all for a pay check. But with you...you do it because you want to. Or at least...I think you want to”

“I do want to, James. I’ll always be around to ask if you’re okay. And to make you okay when you’re not. I care about you...”

“And...I care about you. Another reason I prefer talking to you is because...I like you...a lot. I just think you’re the most beautiful woman, and you have such a sweet and caring nature and a good heart that is wasted on me. But I can’t help but like you...” he couldn’t really believe he just said what he did. He wasn’t mean to tell her that. It was meant to stay a secret within him into the end of time. But there was a shift in atmosphere that just made it all slip out.

“You...you like me?” She asked, still not looking at him.

“Yeah...” he said. There was a little more confidence in his voice as he admitted his feelings towards her.

“I like you too..” she too held a little more confidence in her voice as she admitted her returned feelings. It felt...good. Especially since she knew he returned the feelings she had harboured for him since they met.

She stood abruptly and held her hand out to him. He looked at it and looked up at her again before taking her hand. She pulled him to his feet and a little close to her.

He smirked a little as he looked down at her “you want me to kiss you or something?” He said almost proudly.

“Yes..” she said “but first...I want to know something”

“What do you want to know?” He asked her. She squeezed his hand and dragged him out of her kitchen.

She lead him to her bedroom and noticed the worried expression on his face when he looked at her bed. This was what she wanted to know.

“You don’t have a bed in your apartment...” She told him quietly. (Y/N) turned her body so she was facing him completely, he cautiously lifted his hands to settle on her waist.

“I know...” he mumbled.

“Why?”

Bucky paused but he felt safe enough to give her an honest answer “I...I’m...scared. Of them”

“What is it about a bed that scares you?” She whispered, her fingers gently trailing down his cheeks. Bucky didn’t answer right away, for one he was to busy focusing of the beautiful touch of her hands, and for another, he didn’t really know the answer to her question. But he could take a guess.

“Because I...I don’t think I’ve slept in one since 1943. And I...after everything I’ve done...I don’t deserve to lie in such luxury...” his voice was quiet and barely audible, had it not been for the close proximity they were in, she probably wouldn’t have heard him.

“James...” she laid her forehead against his and he instinctively griped her waist a little tighter. The comfort and warmth she was bringing him was something he didn’t want to loose. She was someone he didn’t want to loose. He felt safer with no one but her. For once he actually felt...okay. But he felt he was holding her too tightly, but if he was she was wasn’t willing to tell him that.

“You know that you have no reason to be afraid. You are changing. You are becoming a good man. You do deserve to live in luxury, even if that starts with sleeping in a proper bed. Maybe it is scary for you...but...if you’ll allow me, I’ll help you face it”

“Please...” he whispered with a nod before pressing his lips to hers.

05/04/21

Taglist: @lunaserenade @phoenixhalliwell @slytherin4ever

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Sebastian Stan #tfatws #marvel #fluff #angst #fanfic

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

so I joined an ateez collab yesterday and was yelling to mai about a possible elemental kingdom au kind of like avatar but also not really anyway it doesn’t fucking matter mai was yelling back and now we have this. you have been warned

(I have bigger plans for seonghwa mostly because he’s the one I'm writing for this collab.............. seonghwa brainrot commence)

tagging: @applejongho @mangomingki @wingkkun because all of you need to see this SUFFER

anyway without further ado

ATEEZ ELEMENTAL KINGDOM AU OR WHATEVER IDK WHAT TO CALL THIS

tw: cursing

seonghwa

magma prince, born of an earth/water dalliance gone too far :/

lives in the water but is an outcast, so he’s forced to live on his own by the underwater volcanoes except when he has to come to the palace for ceremonies and such

doesn’t really manipulate water specifically but can control magma hence why I'm calling him a magma prince

he’s a prince because his mom was ocean royalty, anyway she disowned him so we don’t really care about her (fuck everyone who made seonghwa feel like an outcast :/)

has scales on parts of his body like the rest of the ocean dwellers because they descended from sea serpents, his range from black to deep royal blue which INFURIATES the court because those colors are the purest meant for ROYALTY like even his mom’s scales aren’t as deep/pure as seonghwa’s so ha in your FACE

except seonghwa isn’t a fan of the scales because it just makes him feel even more like he doesn’t belong in his own skin :///

friends with fire prince hongjoong and ocean prince san, both of whom are some of the few who treat seonghwa like an actual person and not just an outcast :/

takes very good care of the animals who live around the volcanic vents! a lot of the other ocean dwellers are scared of them because they look so different but seonghwa knows what it’s like to be an outcast so he keeps his little area as clean and welcoming as possible :)

it gets lonely around the volcanoes but honestly seonghwa prefers that over when he has to be at court for ceremonies n stuff. like yeah there might be water snakes around his place but they’re nothing compared to the snakes in the palace badum tss

hongjoong

fire prince of the dragon clan

there are two clans of the fire kingdom, one descended from dragons and the other descended from phoenixes, and they’re Rivals

dragon clan is allied with the ocean dwellers since sea serpents are related to dragons, phoenix clan is allied with the air dwellers because they all can fly n stuff

but anyway more on phoenix stuff in mingi’s part

has scales too, though his are more on the neck while seonghwa’s around around his ribs/waist, also they’re bright red/orange not blue

can produce and control dragon fire, which is destructive and primarily used for offense, so hongjoong’s been trained for an early age how to use it for max power/destruction

meets seonghwa on one of the few times hwa comes to the surface to chill in the sun and he’d just accidentally set fire to a small part of the beach and when he sees hwa he’s like HELP ME PUT THIS OUT

except hwa can’t control water he can only do magma so. yeah

san was nearby though and helped deal with it and later joong was like what the fuck kind of ocean dweller can’t control water and seonghwa was like. I'm half you dickwad

obviously they become friends after that. if they didn’t I'd give you permission to slap my face

but also after that hongjoong learns to keep a much tighter rein on his powers, like yes he’s being trained for destruction but he has masterful control over his abilities

could be considered a fire prodigy in all honesty

yunho

earth boy!! very powerful earth bender

can definitely do a lot of destruction with his powers but prefers to help things grow instead! talks to his garden and swears up and down that his plants grow bigger and taller when he does

good friends with both mingi of the phoenix clan and hongjoong of the dragon clan

earth dwellers aren’t allied with any side of the fire rivalry so they serve as the arbiters/judges when disputes come into place which is fair because earth is solid and stable and just (most of the time)

which is why yunho is able to balance this sort of friendship between the two boys :) does NOT meet with them together though that would be a recipe for disaster (not necessarily because of hongjoong/mingi themselves, they know how to behave, but the neurotic clan elders would throw a hissy fit)

runs a small restaurant in the capital that mostly caters to the working class, people always ask why yunho doesn’t try to do “more” with himself, that he’s wasted potential running a restaurant when he could potentially be a general or something in the army because of his earth bending prowess

but yunho doesn’t care, he’s happy where he is and he develops his bending as a way to protect and help himself and others, and from his friendship with hongjoong/mingi he’s pretty sure he wants to avoid clashing with earth royalty at all costs ksjndksjh

yeosang

air prince :) also he’s blond in this au you can’t change my mind

not particularly one of the strongest benders, but he’s very intelligent and wise which people value a little less than they should but yeosang doesn’t really care, he’s just going with it

imagine! yeosang in flows white robes!! floating on the wind!!!

yes air dwellers can fly sobs because they control the wind

and while yeosang isn’t necessarily the greatest at using his powers for fighting or whatever, he’s very good at flying and has a lot of fun with it along with air noble wooyoung

best friends with wooyoung by the way, no one really gets it because yeosang is quieter and doesn’t yell as much while wooyoung is the definition of Chaos

but wooyoung brings out the rowdy side in yeosang and their screams/yells echo in the air when they get together

a little wary of wooyoung’s friendship with san mostly because he’s a prince and understands the consequences of wooyoung, an air noble, being friends with the allies of their supposed enemy (water is allied with the dragon clan)

(maybe he’s a little jealous too)

but in the end it’s always still woo + yeosang against the world, floating in the sky and doing what they can for their people <3

san

WATER PRINCE WATER PRINCE WATER PRINCE

he’s actually the reason I birthed this au I couldn’t get ocean prince san out of my mind

flowy clothes and a crown of shells and pearls! likes shiny things and will trade with earth dweller merchants for new bits of crystal and jewelry!! tell me he isn’t a dream!!!

one of the beloved princes of the ocean, honestly probably the most loved because he’s so smiley and handsome and all around a very good boy until it’s his turn to perform the ceremonial dances and he turns into a demon

the brightest blue scales run up from his waist to his ribs, another one of the purest colors of royalty

uses his status to get away with being friends with seonghwa (aka people won’t yell at him if it’s obvious he disappeared for a while to the volcanic vents) but keeps their friendship kind of under wraps because hwa is afraid of retaliation when he has to visit the court :/

truly does not give a shit about hwa being half earth, if anything kind of envies it because he’s always curious to explore the volcanic trenches but as a normal ocean dweller the heat would be too much for him if he stayed too long

kinda scared of the animals near the trenches but he warms up to them after some periodic visits

friends with air noble wooyoung! even though it’s kind of (?) breaking alliances but neither of them really cares because they’re so much fun together :D

mingi

phoenix nobility, not quite a prince but close

phoenix fire has defensive and healing properties, so it can’t actually burn people but it can heal and protect from dragon fire/regular fire!

mingi is well-versed in the art of healing even though he’s a little clumsy sometimes :/ luckily phoenix fire doesn’t burn or there’d be major issues skjnsdkjh

can fly! phoenix descendants have a limited ability to fly, not as much as the air dwellers who can literally control the wind to help them, but it’s often enough to get them out of tight spots

only problem is mingi doesn’t like to fly very much skjndgjhn heights kinda suck

but when he does it’s fucking majestic, these orange flaming wings extending from his arms that clash beautifully with his red/orange hair

imagine seeing it at sunset oh my god that’s a dream

the phoenix and dragon clans are in negotiation with each other most of the time because ~hostilities~ but mingi doesn’t often participate in the direct talking because he’s better at working behind the scenes

ridiculously smart and likes to debate with yunho over things because seeing issues from a neutral perspective is very helpful and something mingi doesn’t think people do enough

what he’d really love to do is talk to hongjoong because an opposite perspective would be even better, but people don’t like that happening :/

secretly admires dragon fire because it’s so cool how dragon descendants can control so much destructive power with such ease

(he doesn’t know it but hongjoong admires phoenix fire just as much because god damn sometimes he wishes he was born to heal rather than destroy)

wooyoung

air noble!!!!! bitch if you thought I was making this man ANYTHING but an air dweller you do not know me

likes to watch the sunrise from his vantage point in the mountains :) sometimes wakes yeosang up to watch with him but only when he’s certain yeo won’t cut off a limb if he does skndjsgh

if yeosang is like the soft sea breeze against your face in the summer, wooyoung is the biting, almost playful nip of wind against your nose and cheeks in the winter

very playful! loves to make collect friends!!

can play the flute and absolutely 100% uses it to annoy said friends

you can often hear his screeching laughter and the yells of yeosang + others bouncing off the mountains skjdnsgk

is always on duty for patrolling the mountains because he’s one of the best at flying, but it’s fine because wooyoung enjoys being able to make his rounds and talk to people along the way

sometimes gets a little sidetracked with talking (and maybe eating the food people sometimes give him) but wooyoung is a lovable person no one can get mad at him for too long (which is a problem because he knows it)

thinks the rivalries between elements is dumb af, is literally friends with ocean prince san and earth dwellers 2ho and would like to make friends with mingi (yunho has mentioned him before) if he could just stop being in twenty places all at once

(mingi’s a busy guy wooyoung give him a break)

almost lost his shit when san told him he knew a magma controller, but hasn’t met seonghwa yet because hwa is shy and not very open to strangers

anyway I just think wooyoung air noble who has a personal mission to make as many inter-elemental friends as possible. shrugs

jongho

IF YOU TRY AND TELL ME THIS BOY ISN’T EARTH I WILL CLOCK YOU

earth boy and a prodigy at that! his bending is more advanced than some people twice his age

originally got stuck in training for the army because his bending was just that good, however he really hated having to use his powers solely for fighting so he left and became a blacksmith instead

why a blacksmith? here’s a secret

jongho can metalbend

which is why he sort of has this very good touch with metals and which types to use with which sorts of crafts

in very high demand for weapons like swords and such, but also makes jewelry and toys and pots and pans for regular day to day life

he also gets the “wasted potential” thing that yunho deals with a lot, but jongho has thick skin and those sorts of comments roll of his (broad) shoulders very quickly

LOATHES IT when generals and officials come to him with commissions and expect them to be done first and foremost like jongho doesn’t have around ten other projects hanging out in the background, but he just has to receive them with a smile

(maybe leaves a tiny unnoticeable dent in a general’s sword or something bc even if it’s unnoticeable, jongho knows it’s there and there’s some satisfaction in that)

friends with air noble wooyoung mostly because he is able to deal with woo’s bs, air prince yeosang is always asking for tips

meets yunho through wooyoung and 2ho strike up a nice friendship!

really just jongho stronk boy who can move the earth and will not hesitate to cause a subtle earthquake if some official gets uppity with him <3

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yateez · 3 years

Text

Bucket-list 1

Pairing: Hongjoong x reader

Word count: 3k

Genre: Fluff, angst

Warnings: implied incurable disease. implied upcoming death.

Taglist: @sunwooyoung, @yunsangoveryonder (Let me know if you want to be added :])

A/n: As much as this fic is going to be really fluffy, it will also be extremely angsty, so please keep that in mind as a warning.

In life, things come and go. That’s just how it is and usually you do not have much control over it. From losing long time friends to failing an exam you’ve studied so hard for. It also means that you’ll get to meet other people and know how to handle your exam better next time to get a better grade.

All of those things also help you distinguish the different chapters in life. Recently, a new chapter in my life started, but I didn’t want to feel like I had achieved nothing when this one ends. I want to do better and greater things so I’m not full of regrets when the next one starts. Because who knows, maybe my next chapters won’t allow me to do certain things. It will most likely not allow me to do anything if I’m being completely honest.

So I guess this is why, I’m here right now at the registrar office, with a ‘Change of Major’ form. My hands hesitantly giving it to my counselor as she gives me a slightly worried look.

“You want to go from civil engineering to exploratory studies in the middle of your sophomore year? Do you have a plan? Are you sure about that? This is one of the top major in the school Y/N. Not everyone can get in and..” I guess my hesitant look is what gave it away. I just end up smiling at her slightly.

“I don’t think this is for me.”

“But you’re doing amazing in your classes.”

“I am aware, but still. I want to see other things.”

“You have to have a major declared by the end of your sophomore year, you’re aware of that, right?”

“I am.. I’ll take summer classes if I have to.” I smile at her and she painfully goes through the paper work. That’s how it happened. I am now walking out of the office, major less. Or as an exploratory studies to make it sound a bit better.

When I step out of the building, the cold wind of winter hits my face rather nicely. I bring my scarf up a bit and start walking back to my apartment. After typing in my code, I open the door slowly. All the lights off and no signs of life around.

“Definitely not getting used to living alone any time soon..” I sigh lightly at the empty apartment.

I had lived with my previous roommate for a year and a half before she switched schools. I had been putting off getting an announcement out to try and find someone else to split the bills with. However, now that my new chapter was starting, I guess it was the perfect time to find someone new.

The next few days a filled with appointments with potential suit mates. Interviews and weird questions.

“Are parrots allowed?”

“Parrots? I wouldn’t mind, they’re cute.”

“Ok cool, I have five of them and people always—“

“Five? Wait.. how big is the cage?” I raise my eyebrows. She looks around before nodding lightly.

“We might need to move the couch there and.. the TV and.. it should fit over there?”

“Ahh..”

Trials and errors. Sometimes it felt too good to be true.

“I love cleaning.” She smiles at me and I can’t help but to smile.

“I’m so glad to hear that, it’s so hard to find someone that will do their part. I also enjoy cleaning, me and my old suit mates used to take a whole day just to clean and we would play music and open all the windows. It was a lot of fun.”

“How often did you clean?”

“Hum.. like once every two weeks.” Which is already quite a lot if you ask me. Her smile drops, and gives me a disgusted look.

“Once every two weeks? I could never live in a pigsty like that.”

“A what now?” I smile at her a bit confused.

“I do a deep cleaning every two days, with a light cleaning everyday. The floors always have to be clean and I cannot CANNOT support dust anywhere. Also, the dishes have to be cleaned once by hand then twice in the machine and then—“

“Ok, I think we’ll stop for today.” I smile at her gently, with some murder intent in the back of my head.

Why the fuck was it so hard to find someone just remotely decent. Was I the only one on campus with normal living habits?

“So.. what do you do?” I tiredly smile at him and he smiles back.

“I’m a music producer for the entertainment company down the road.”

“You’re not a student?” “Oh? I am, I’m a senior as a music major.”

“No way..” My curiosity was picked at. “That’s so cool, so you already have job on the line.” I smile at him and he gets a bit shy at my sudden admiration.

“Yeah, I got really lucky. What about you?”

“Well.. I’m a sophomore and I literally just switched my major.” I laugh a bit awkwardly.

“Oh? From what to what?”

“Civil engineering to exploratory studies.”

“No way, to get in for that major you must be really smart.” He looks at me with admiration as well and I feel my cheeks flush with happiness.

“Ah, it’s nothing really. It wasn’t really for me either so..”

“Hopefully with exploratory studies you’ll get to find something that really interests you. Plus if you’re that smart, I’m sure you can easily adapt and find something for you.” He smiles at me and my heart pulls in my chest. His smile was so pretty. Everything about him was pretty actually. Could I really live with someone like that?

“That would be nice.” I smile at him. “Well..” I look down at my paper. “I think those were the main questions I had to ask. Honestly, if you’re feeling good about this too. I wouldn’t mind offering you the room.” His smile gets brighter if that was even possible.

“Really? That would be amazing. I’ve been looking forever for a place closer to work and that’s right down the street. Are you sure though? Wouldn’t you prefer a girl or—“

“Believe me, you’re the closest thing to a normal person I’ve seen in days.”

“Ah..”

“You don’t secretly own five parrots right?” I lean in a bit and he looks at me confused before bursting into laughter.

“I don’t.”

“Ok good~ Then, Hongjoong, you can move in whenever you’re ready.”

Just like that at the end of the week, Hongjoong was fully moved in.

“Alright, that looks good!!” I smile at him, putting up our very small contract and schedule for chores on the fridge.

“It looks doable.”

“You’re being dramatic Hongjoong, this is basic cleaning.”

“Well, I had a cleaning lady at my old place.”

“Wait what?”

“Well.. not really. One of my friends, Seonghwa, would usually clean everything all the time. It was kind of creepy not gonna lie.” I laugh at his little story before we both go back and sit at the dinner table.

“Why didn’t you stay there then?”

“It was too far from the company. So I would end up sleeping there most of the time. Seonghwa was not having and so he kicked me out.”

“Huh??” I give him wide surprised eyes that makes him laugh.

“Don’t worry, not like that. He just wanted me to find a place closer so I could get proper sleep in a proper bed, instead of the chair in my studio.”

“If that isn’t adorable.”

“Yeah, he’s a real mom.”

“Is he cute?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him and he looks at me shocked.

“Y/N! Oh my god, no!” We both end up laughing together.

It was needless to say that me and Hongjoong got along real fast. Even if he complained the whole time, chores were never a problem and were done when assigned. We would usually eat together and even started spending time together outside of the apartment. We would get lunch together and I even ended up meeting most of his friends. Movie nights every Saturdays started to become a tradition and before I knew it we were almost inseparable.

My eyes focused on my laptop, I try to come up with a good ‘hook’ to start my new essay with. This semester was so much fun so far and I had only taken classes that sounded fun to my ears. I look up slowly and I’m greeted with the back of my door. A small piece of paper stuck on it with on top written ‘Bucket-list’. I sigh lightly, I had written this list the night I had changed my major. However, since Hongjoong moved in, I had been so busy hanging out with him and just living with him that it started going over my head. Suddenly, the Bucket-list disappears and instead Hongjoong appears after bursting into my room.

“Ah?”

“Y/N..” He throws his laptop on my bed next to me before closing the door behind him, the bucket-list on display again. Hopefully, he won’t notice.

“Hongjoong?” I watch him come up and sit next to me on my bed before opening his laptop.

“I have been stuck on this song for a week. I recorded it, 2348 times and—“

“Excuse me you recorded it how many times?”

“2348 times.”

“That’s an exaggeration right? You’re being dramatic again.”

“I’m not.” He turns his laptop and shows me all the attempts that he had made. My jaw slightly drops and I give him a concerned look.

“What the fuck Hongjoong?!”

“I need a fresh ear.”

“I don’t know if I’m the best person for that.”

“I think you’re gonna be good enough.”

“Good enough?” I chuckle lightly before he presses play. I had heard Hongjoong’s songs before, but this one was so different. This one was so soothing and the voices were so nice, the guys had done such a good job. Hongjoong’s rap was also weirdly calming and his singing voice was adorable, it made my heart pull in my chest at his words.

“Hongjoong.. That’s really good.”

“Mhh.. I don’t know, something is missing.”

“Something is missing? Do you know what?”

“I feel like.. I’m missing the right emotions for that kind of songs. So the voice is not going through the way I want..” I sighs lightly before going back to his work. “What are you doing?” He asks his eyes still focused on his laptop.

“Writing an essay.”

“Am I bothering you?”

“I don’t mind you staying next to me~” I smile lightly and for some reason my words make his heart flutter lightly.

The hours pass slowly and it’s just comfortable. We switch position multiple times, both of us still focusing on our work. I felt like I was back in high school working with my crush. I couldn’t help but to observe him, as his eyes focus on his screen, his adorable lashes batting as he scrolls through different recordings that he plays for me to hear and love. His laugh making my heart pull every time I complained about my assignment. I guess, Hongjoong was starting to get to me. I start to stretch myself, completely sore after sitting on my bed for hours. “Ugh, I’ll be right back. I have to pee.”

“Can you bring me back something to drink please?” He asks without looking up from his work.

“Sure.” I walk out of the room slowly, accidentally closing the door a bit more than intended. When he hears the wood hit lightly on the door frame, he looks up and the single piece of paper on the back of my door gets his attention right away. He stands up, and walks up to it slowly.

*Y/N’s Bucket-list* ‘to do before the end of this chapter’

“This chapter? Is this an assignment?” He looks down at the cutely written bullet points.

- -Go to the beach at night, and swim in my underwear, no matter the weather. - -Dance to ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ at midnight at the water path by the beach. - -Go star gazing on top of a building [the highest in town] -Go to Dennis’s Ice Cream and try all the flavors in one day. -Travel to the Belleview waterfall and skinny dip there at night.

He cheeks slightly blush at the intrusive thoughts of this specific bullet point. He shakes his head lightly before reading the rest.

-Go to the scenic view and breath. -Say ‘I love you’ to all your family, friends and colleagues.

He can’t help but to chuckle lightly at this one. It was very me, for some reason.

-Go to prom.

“As a sophomore in college?” He raises an eyebrow a bit confused with this one. Then finally the last one.

-Fall in love- -Find a special person.

The ‘Fall in love’ was crossed out and replaced with ‘Find a special person’. This Bucket-list started out somewhat normal but it felt as if those needed to be done before a certain time. The door then suddenly opens, hitting Hongjoong right in the face.

“Oh my god!”

“Hongjoong?? OH my god!! What were you doing behind the door!!” I drop the drinks on my desk and come to him trying to see if his gorgeous face was ok.

“I’m good, I’m good. It scared me more than anything.” He sighs lightly before looking at me. “Also.. What is that? This Bucket-list.” He stands to the side and points to my little list.

“Ah.. That’s.. well a Bucket-list.”

“I know, but.. why does it say ‘to do before the end of this chapter’.”

“Because there’s different chapters in life.” I say feeling a bit awkwardly. “Like when you moved in with me. That’s a new chapter in life.

“Oh, that makes sense.. Was this your high school bucket-list?”

“Mhh? No, why?” “It says, ‘go to prom’, so I was just a bit confused.”

“Ah.. Yeah I just put this on there, but I don’t— I don’t think this one is doable for obvious reasons.” I laugh awkwardly and he gives me a slightly confused look.

“Did you miss your prom?” He asks gently. I look at him for a bit and decide that, maybe me and Hongjoong were close enough for me to tell him about that.

“I did.”

“Something happened? If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine, I mean..”

“I can tell you what happened. Let’s just..” I point to the bed. “Instead of awkwardly standing at the door.” He laughs with me and we both go back to sitting on my bed. “So.. I had a boyfriend back in high school. I wouldn’t say we were in love but.. we were getting there. Or at least I was for a bit. Obviously, he asked me to prom and so that was the plan but.. I became sick and I couldn’t go.” Hongjoong gives me a slight questioning look.

“You got sick?”

“Yes.. So I had to go to the doctor and he advised me not to go to prom. However, after letting my.. well now, ex-boyfriend know. He decided to break up with me.. to not take a risk.”

“What?” He looks at me for bit before an expression of realization strikes through his facial features.

He observes me for a bit, then small details come back to him. How every two weeks I disappear on Fridays for two hours and come back with paper work. How every morning and every evening my alarm reminds me to take some pills which he had confused for birth control. His eyes travel around my face for a bit before he decides to speak again.

“Something.. tells me that you are still sick Y/N.” I bite down on my lips lightly and he feels his own lips quiver slightly at my expression. I was not sad that my life was to be cut short at any point. I was more ashamed to not have told Hongjoong earlier in a way.

“I am.” My voice becomes really quiet and then a small silence installs itself in the small room decorates with fairy lights. The atmosphere was too nice for the discussion that was going on right now.

“Is it.. Non-curable?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Are the medicine working?”

“Kind of.”

“Is it..” He can’t seem to say the last word but he doesn’t need to. My mom did the exact same thing when she asked the doctor before breaking into tears.

“It is. But!” My suddenly loud cheerful voice throws him off. “I’ve come to peace with it. You know, I’ve lived a goo—“

“Is this why you switched majors and you’re taking random classes?”

“Ah?”

“This isn’t a new chapter for you Y/N.. It’s your last chapter..” His voice slightly quivers with a slight panic in it that makes me happy expression drop right away.

“Hongjoong.”

“That’s why it says ‘to do before the end of this chapter’ and not.. ‘to do before next chapter’.” I can’t seem to answer him. Even if I did, I can’t even seem to have an answer for him in the first place. He just looks at me with this same concerned expression as if the world came crashing down on his shoulders, I felt so guilty.

“Hongjoong.. Please don’t.” He looks up at me and the small smile drawn on my lips. I was always so bubbly around him and others, that this kind of news felt unreal. It did not make sense for someone to be this happy while carrying something like that. I can see his eyes starting to shine ever so slightly and I bite down on my lips. “Don’t cry..” My voice becomes as quivery as his but after a few seconds he just looks up. Bites down and his lips, and takes a deep breath.

“Let’s do it.”

“What?”

“This bucket-list. I’ll do it with you.”

“You don’t—“

“I want to. Let’s do it together, and if you want to add things now is the time.” He smiles at me as brightly as earlier and I can’t help but to smile with him.

“Thank you Hongjoong~”

“No problem Y/N~” We both end up giggling together.

Keeping this smile up next to me was definitely going to be hard from now on. Especially after recently realizing just how much he liked me.

#Ateez #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #ateez angst #ateez fluff #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong angst

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villainousshakespeare · 3 years

Text

Bobby’s Play Date Part 1

The pandemic is keeping Tom idling in London by himself. One positive is that wearing the mask helps him avoid recognition, allowing him to wander in the park with his dog, Bobby. On one of their walks, Bobby becomes smitten with a dog named Lulu and Tom is equally enchanted by her human. Can the Hiddleston men manage to find a way to see the lovely ladies again?

Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Rated M - Pandemic, Fluff, Quarantine, Masks, Adorable Puppies, Meet Cute, Second Part May (will) Contain Smut

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere, from-hel-i-with-love, @sweetsigyn, @fictiondoesitbetter, @ms-cellanies @evieplease @viviennes-tears @turniptitaness @cynic-spirit

It was months into the pandemic that had ground the world to a halt. Tom desperately hoped things would go back to normal soon, and that a vaccine would be found to help more people from getting sick and dying. There were, of course, many changes to the world at the moment that Tom was not pleased with. Being unable to work, for instance, or travel to visit his sisters was both frustrating and depressing. One change, however, he had to admit he was not completely adverse to.

Tom loved his fans. They were usually polite, often intelligent, and had donated millions in his name to charities. He often said that he couldn’t consider himself an actor without an audience, and he meant it. It was just that there were times when he wanted to enjoy a little anonymity. Particularly when health advisories suggested a six foot distance between people, Tom was relieved to be able to slip on a plain black mask along with his baseball cap and sunglasses and blend in with the other people wandering about on errands.

He was enjoying just such a stroll now despite the warmth, grateful for the ability to hide in plain sight. Bobby frisked happily on his lead, chasing after imaginary prey as they ambled aimlessly down the winding path. It was a lovely, sunny day, but fear was keeping many people at home and they had the park largely to themselves.

When they reached a bend, Bobby began barking excitedly and pulled Tom along, his human chuckling as he was dragged by his furry companion. The reason for Bobber’s excitement soon became apparent. Sitting on a bench placed beside a scenic little river was a woman in a flowered mask, holding the lead of a small, gold and white shih tzu dog in a ridiculous pink and white checked dress.

Tom had to take a firm hold as Bobby frantically tried to go over and meet the smaller dog, who had begun barking herself as they rounded the bend. Her fluffy head, complete with bow to keep the hair from her eyes, perked up, and she began jumping up and down in a little dance. Bobby calmed down a bit as he felt Tom’s pressure on his lead, but his tongue still lolled out of his mouth in a dopey smile.

“Steady,” Tom commanded, feeling embarrassed as Bobby continued to hover as close as allowed to the silly looking strange dog. “I’m sorry, I promise he is completely friendly.”

“It’s okay, so is she,” the woman replied, smiling with her eyes even though he could not see her mouth behind her mask. “You know, she’s usually quite shy, but she seems to like him! May I pet him?”

“Please, and thanks for asking.”

Letting the lead out a bit, Tom watched as the woman reached down to give Bobby a good pet, complimenting him on being a handsome boy. Her fluff of a pup had advanced timidly, and she and Bobby commenced sniffing and circling each other with obvious enjoyment.

“Wow, I have never seen her respond like that to a strange dog!” the woman laughed.

As she spoke, Bobby rolled onto his back and waved his paws in the air with a complete lack of dignity.

“Safe to say he is rather taken as well,” Tom chuckled. “Absolutely shameless! Mind if I have a seat? It seems a shame to deprive them.”

He gestured to the bench next to hers, wanting to keep a safe distance and indicate he respected her space, and the woman nodded. She was dressed much more simply than her dog, he noticed. Black leggings and long rose colored tee shirt, a pair of keds. Apparently, she got all of her whimsy out on her pup.

“What’s his name?” she asked, watching as the dogs frolicked with each other.

“Bobby,” he supplied. “I’m Tom.”

“I’m Leia, and that ridiculous creature is Lulu.”

“Like the princess?” he couldn’t help but ask with a chuckle.

“General,” she answered without missing a beat. “It’s what happens when you are born during the release of a cultural phenomenon. Pity all of the little girls out there now being named Daenerys or Gamora.”

Tom held his breath for a moment. If she was a Marvel fan, then did he have to worry about her recognizing him? Fortunately, she seemed more interested in the game of tag their companions were playing, and he let himself relax.

“There’s a dog run about half a mile from here,” he suggested after a few minutes of companionable silence. “It’s actually where we were headed.”

“I know, but Lulu is so skittish,” Leia sighed. “She just huddles in a little ball when the bigger dogs come near her.”

“She seems fine with Bobbers.”

“I know! Your adorable boy is some sort of sorcerer! It makes me so happy to see her playing with another dog!”

“I have to ask…”

“The dress?” she guessed; voice wry.

“Yeah.”

“She’s a rescue. When I got her, she was a pathetic, bedraggled little thing that had been there for ages. It was winter, and the first times I took her out I had to put a coat on her. After that, she started equating dressing with going out, and would get so excited every time I took a coat or sweater out for her. When the weather warmed up, I realized that I missed the way she would jump up and literally throw herself into whatever I had picked out for her to wear. It’s completely silly, I know, but it makes her happy, and she just looks so cute!”

Tom’s heart melted a little as he listened to her explain. Yes, the dog looked silly, but it was such a sweet reason that suddenly the little dress transformed into a symbol of kindness rather than an eccentricity.

“She does look adorable,” he said.

A beeping noise had him drawing his phone from his pocked, and he was surprised at the time. He had to get back home soon for a virtual session with his trainer. Oddly, he found himself reluctant to go. It had been so long since he had just spent time with another person, it had felt good just to sit in her presence and relax.

“I’m afraid I have to get going. But Bobby and I usually walk this way around lunch time,” he blurted out, lying through his teeth. “Hopefully we will run into you lovely ladies again. So that the dogs can play.”

He was more grateful for the mask than ever, as it hopefully hid the blush he could feel coloring his face. Once more her vivid eyes sparkled and she stood up too, twisting around with him as they attempted to untangle the leashes.

“I’m sure Lulu would love that!” she told him, picking up the golden dog as she whined and tried to follow after her new friend. “We’ll see you around, Tom. Bobby.”

With a jaunty step he let his long legs take him away, looking forward to tomorrow already.

It rained the next two days. Not just a soft drizzle but am early summer storm that made the idea of a pleasant walk a fantasy. Tom and Bobby both resented the weather, and it was a toss up which of them was more disagreeable as they were forced to stay indoors.

When the sun shone on the third day, Tom immediately cancelled all of his afternoon plans. He had waited patiently, he told himself, he was not going to let this day go to waste. It was for Bobby’s sake, after all. The pup deserved a nice day out after being shut up inside.

They left home mid-morning, Tom unable to sit still any longer. He couldn’t say why exactly he was so keen on meeting Leia and her silly dog again, but he had been able to think of nothing else during his enforced isolation. Perhaps it was simply the novelty of meeting someone new who didn’t instantly faun over him or act nervous and shy. She treated him as though he were just an ordinary guy walking his dog in the park; which of course was what he was!

He arrived at the benches where they had met earlier that week, but they were empty. It was still early, so they made a circuit of the nearby trails. His eyes always alert for their new friends. They passed a few other people walking their pets, but both Tom and Bobby were uninterested beyond a nod hello and brief sniff. The Hiddleston men were both to focused on finding particular companions.

It was, as it had been before, Bobby who first discovered their presence. As they were walking through a more secluded, twisting section of the park, the dog’s ears pricked up and he began barking in excitement. Tail wagging frantically, Bobby yanked on the lead and pulled Tom along behind him as he took off around a curve. A high pitched yip sounded from the direction he headed.

“Well hello there!” Leia greeted him, leaning down to scratch Bobby’s head as he and Lulu danced around each other. “We were hoping to run into you boys again!”

“Eh heh heh,” Tom laughed, dancing around to keep his leash from entangling too badly with hers. “Obviously Bobby here was looking forward to that as well! As was I.”

“Well then, I am so happy you found us.”

He felt absurdly pleased as they fell into step beside each other. The two dogs were happy to walk along, darting back and forth in play as they went.

“Were you going anywhere in particular?” Leia asked casually.

“Oh, just wandering about,” Tom answered, not wanting to admit that they had been on a mission to hunt down the ladies.

“Well then, we can wander together.”

As the dogs played, Tom and Leia chatted happily. He learned that she was an aspiring writer working on edits to her first novel, and a tour guide, specializing in guiding small groups around literary sights in London as a way to earn money.

“Of course, it’s hard to be a tour guide with no tourists,” she sighed. “You would think it would give me more time to write, but its hard to focus. Anyway, I talk too much. What about you?”

“Oh, I’m on furlough,” he shrugged, staying vague. “Just loafing about the house, annoying Bobby. So what is your novel about?”

He managed to direct the conversation back to her, even though she avoided the subject of her book. Instead, she brought up some of the more interesting places she had brought tourists. Tom, a proud Londoner, had been to many of them, and they happily discussed the more interesting locations. She seemed impressed that he had read books by most of the authors they discussed and was quite ready with a line or two from memory. In turn, Tom loved how expressive she became when describing the joy people experienced finding themselves walking in the footsteps of their favorite fictional characters.

By the time Leia announced that she and Lulu needed to head home, (Tom thought he detected regret in her voice) he was surprised to realize that they had been talking for almost two hours. It was the most pleasant afternoon he had passed in some time.

After that, Tom and Bobby spent every afternoon in the park. At first, they managed to “stumble” upon their companions most days. The days they did not were frustrating for both of them and usually ended with them barking at each other. After a few run-ins with Leia and Lulu however, Tom took the plunge and asked if they would like to make their daily meetups official. Leia seemed pleased, but with the caveat that some days she did need to stay home and write when she was struck by the rare inspiration. Tom deflated momentarily, thinking she was looking for an out, until she offered to text him an let him know if they would be absent. He happily gave her his cell phone number and took hers in return, letting her know that she should feel free to text anytime and then feeling like an idiot the minute the words left his mouth.

Over the next two weeks they met all but three days – two because of her writing and one when the skies once more conspired to thwart him. Their conversations ranged from literature to films to favorite places to travel. Leia sometimes teased him about his obvious upper class life style, jetting about to Viet Nam, Hawaii, Australia… but that was the closest his celebrity status ever came to being brought up. He would occasionally feel a stab of guilt over keeping that part of himself from her, it felt dishonest to lie by omission, but he was enjoying being just Tom, and didn’t want to spoil it.

Tom started taking more care in his appearance as the days went on. Gone were the torn running shorts and frayed t-shirts, and in their place were his slim fitting dark jeans and more presentable tops. If those tops also stretched a bit tight across his chest to better show off his muscles, well, he had worked hard enough to achieve them! He made some attempt to style his untamable locks as well, experimenting with different products until he found something that made the curls less crunchy. If he was remembering Leia’s off hand comment about how she liked his natural curls no one else needed to know that.

On the one month anniversary of meeting them in the park, Tom paced nervously back and forth near their favorite bench as he waited for them to arrive. He had a proposition for Leia and hoped desperately that she would say yes. When Bobby started frisking about he knew that he would see her walking Lulu, and spun around to see her come towards them.

“Sorry I’m late!” she smiled with her eyes. “This one managed to hide my house keys, and it took half an hour to track them down to her stash under the sofa.”

Lulu looked unrepentant as she pranced around Bobby, and Tom chuckled good naturedly. He gestured to the bench and sat after Leia, leaning back and stretching out his legs.

“No worries, honestly,” he assured her. “I am just delighted you are here now.”

“You are the perfect gentleman.”

“All lies, I assure you,” he waited for a moment, wanting to sound casual, and then launched into it unable to delay any longer. “I was wondering… The park is lovely, of course, but I thought it might be nice – for Lulu and Bobby – if they had a bit more freedom to run about. Lulu being afraid of the dog run, she has no opportunity to be off leash, and that can’t be too fun for our furry companions.”

“They seem to be having a good time to me,” Leia laughed, looking at where the dogs were investigating a small pile of leaves by the side of the trail. “But what did you have in mind?”

“Well, you see, our house has an enclosed back yard. Not huge, mind you, but large enough they would be able to chase to their hearts content without fearing larger beasts. I thought that perhaps you and Lulu might want to come over this Friday evening for dinner. There’s a testing sight not far from here. We could each get swabbed to make sure we are uncontagious. My bubble is only my Mum and Bobbers, and from what you’ve told me yours isn’t much bigger. It should be reasonably safe for you to come. I could make us dinner, and we could eat outside. If you would be comfortable with it, that is.”

He tried to look calm, but inside Tom was a riot of nerves as he waited for her answer. Leia’s brow crinkled in thought, and she glanced again to where the dogs were once more hopping back and forth across the path.

“I can’t do Friday,” she told him, and his heart fell.

“Oh, alright then. It was just an idea.”

“Friday is my virtual book club,” she went on, talking over him. “Would Saturday work?”

“Saturday would be perfect!” he beamed.

“Great! I’ll go to the clinic for a test tomorrow then. Would you like me to bring anything?”

“Just Lulu and a healthy appetite.”

“Excellent! Now what do you say we walk over to the little waterfall?”

Tom practically floated through the rest of their walk. He had enjoyed getting to know her so much, but he wanted to spend more than an hour or two at a time with her. Dinner would give them a chance to really relax. Plus, he was dying to see her mouth. After a month of imagining her smile he wanted to know if what he had in his mind was anywhere close to reality. She would see his full face too, but if she hadn’t recognized him by now it was doubtful she would from the lower half of his face.

His confidence dipped a bit when they returned home. Looking around, Tom began to panic. Between photos of him in his full Loki regalia to a group picture with the cast of Skull island, there were far too many give aways of his fame. She might not recognize him, but you would have to like on another planet not to know who Sam Jackson was!

Tom spent the next few days rearranging his home. His awards, normally discreetly placed in a cabinet in his living room on the insistence of his mother, were moved to a back shelf in his office closet. The set photos from a decade plus of filming were shoved under his bed and various pieces of memorabilia were secreted away in the spare bedroom. By the time he was done his guilt had increased but he was fairly confident that all trace of his career had been tucked away safely.

“Well, Bobbers, let’s hope we don’t blow this,” he sighed, adjusting the bandana he had bought to go around the dog’s neck. Bobby whined slightly and Tom grinned. “None of that, you want to look good for your date. She has a fondness for clothing, after all.”

Bobby gave him a look that said he clearly knew Lulu was not the one Tom was trying to impress with his new fashion statement, but Tom cheerfully ignored it. Tonight was going to be a wonderful night.

#Tom Hiddleston #Fan Fiction #Fic #Tom Hiddleston Fic #Tom Hiddleston/OFC #Bobby Hiddleston #Fluff #Flirting #quarantine #pandemic #puppy love #cuteness overload #smut in second part #meet cute

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s Belonging Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 归属之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

This date makes important references to his birthday R&S, so do read that first!

Victor’s 2021 birthday collection:

🐼 r&s l belonging date ♡ l video call l moments and texts l asmr

[ Released in CN on 8 Jan 2021 ]

Early in the morning on the weekend, I push a cardboard box into Victor’s living room, straightening up and heaving a sigh.

MC: I seem to have prepared too many ribbons... I'll just blow fewer balloons.

Scanning the slightly empty and spacious room, I retrieve decorations from within the cardboard box.

Victor has been busy with business trips recently. Even though I know he’d return on his birthday, I still feel a little uneasy.

In order to avert the abrupt circumstances like last year, I called him in advance to tell him about my “action plan”.

He seems to have gotten used to the festive rituals I insist upon, and has agreed to let me decorate his home.

Just as I plan to straighten up the cushions on the sofa, the doorbell suddenly rings.

MC: Who is it?

??: Hello, there’s a package for Mr Victor.

I open the door, and the deliveryman hands over a cardboard box. The logo of Loveland City’s zoo is printed on it.

MC: This is...

Deliveryman: It was sent late, I’m really sorry about it! There’s been some issues at the transfer point. It should have been sent to you at the start of the year.

A little puzzled, I nod and take the box. This seems to be the first time I’m seeing a package from the zoo.

After signing for the package, I take a picture of the box and send it to Victor.

Not long after, the phone buzzes.

Victor: Leave the box at the entrance. I’ll handle it after I’m back.

MC: Sure, but why would the zoo send you a delivery?

Victor: I adopted a panda, so the zoo sends some merchandise every year.

MC: So they actually send such things... zoo merchandise is always in limited supply, and I’ve had to rely on snatching them up whenever I visit.

Perhaps hearing the envy in my tone, Victor chuckles softly.

Victor: In that case, you can open it up and look if there’s anything you haven’t snatched up.

MC: Can I? I’ll open it on your behalf then!

With a few movements, I open the cardboard box. All sorts of animal plush toys are stored inside, with panda-related items featuring most often.

My line of sight roams the box, and I notice a small album.

There are pictures of one big and one small panda in the album. It records their everyday lives - eating bamboo, climbing trees, rolling around... it’s like a diary.

MC: Victor, there’s an album here too. There are two pandas in it. Which one did you adopt?

Victor: Both of them.

MC: You adopted two?

Victor: Mm, the big one was the one I mentioned to you before. The small one is its child.

Digesting this information, I mutter softly.

MC: I wonder who mentioned not having feelings towards animals...

Victor: Animals no, people yes. Providing help to endangered animals is a very normal thing.

MC: Only providing help?

Victor: ...what else?

MC: Nothing, I just think CEO Victor is really considerate to specially provide help to a father-son duo~

There’s a temporary silence at the other end of the line. I can almost picture Victor’s speechless expression at this moment.

Victor: Say it, what kind of wicked plan have you come up with this time?

MC: It’s a serious idea! Victor, let’s find a time to visit them? I also wish to meet these two “investees” who have caught your eye.

Victor: You’re truly giving yourself more and more excuses to go out to play.

MC: I can’t?

Victor: ...forget it, we’ll go together if you want to see them.

After ending the call, I retrieve a few panda plush toys from the box, display them on the sofa, then straighten the seats. Finally, I nod in satisfaction.

As compared to vibrantly coloured decorations, Victor should prefer these adorable plush toys.

A few more pages are torn from the calendar, and it’s finally Victor’s birthday.

I checked the information of his flight beforehand. Since it’s not yet time for the plane to land, I prepare to send my report to him first.

The sound of my phone vibrating enters my ears. Seeing the familiar name flashing on the screen, I pick up the call in slight confusion.

MC: Victor? You’ve already reached?

Victor: I just reached. Slightly earlier than expected.

MC: This means I'm the first person to receive your call~ I’ll just say it first - I’ve already prepared my report, and just have to tap the send button.

Victor: Looks like you have a lot of confidence in this report. Since you're done with work, head out with me in the afternoon.

I freeze for a moment. This year, Victor’s birthday happens to be on a working day. I originally planned to celebrate with him in the evening after work.

I didn’t expect that Victor, who has always been serious about work, would think of having a day of rest. I can’t help but tease him.

MC: Is CEO Victor skipping work?

Victor: I’m giving you a break too. A certain someone has been rushing work for so many days, and I’m letting you rest for a while.

My heart stirs, and I seem to understand something.

MC: Seems like I'm not the only person looking forward to today?

After a moment of silence on the other end of the line, his voice sounds, carrying with it a smile.

Victor: I shouldn’t be the only one wanting to meet earlier either. I’ll get my luggage, and will see you in around two hours.

At the agreed time, Victor’s car appears punctually at the bottom of the office building.

I jog and get into the car. He sits on the driver’s seat quietly, his coat half open, revealing a somewhat familiar grey coloured shirt.

There seems to be some tiny creases at his collar that haven’t been ironed smoothly, but the angle at which the collar encases his neck looks very suitable.

Perhaps due to the rays of light falling on his shoulders, or perhaps due to the warm wind blowing in the car, the image before me feels especially warm despite it being winter.

I pull on his arm to take a look, then nod in satisfaction.

MC: Who picked this shirt? It feels as though it makes CEO Victor look especially dashing!

Victor looks at me, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

Victor: Blowing your own trumpet.

MC: You wore it yourself. Doesn’t this prove that the choice of gift was a success?

Victor: I wonder who splayed it on the middle of the bed, only missing a note saying “Wear this today”.

MC: So do you like it or not?

Victor: Passable.

I purse my lips, pulling aside my own coat. Deliberately straightening up, I beckon him to look at the matching shirt I’m wearing.

MC: Cough cough. Is it really just “passable”?

Victor seems to be taken aback for a moment. Then, a smile quickly softens his expression.

Victor: The car isn’t warm yet. Don’t rush to remove your coat.

He reaches out to pull up the zipper. With a pause, he pulls it down slightly, stopping at the chest region.

I follow his gaze and lower my head to take a look. Like this, it just happens to reveal my shirt.

Glancing at our similar colours, I can’t help but laugh secretly in my heart.

Victor: In general, there’s an improvement in taste. A little better than what I expected.

MC: Thank you for your praise, CEO Victor. In that case, should I maintain this standard in the future?

Victor: You can. All right, let’s go. Fasten your safety belt.

MC: Where are we going?

Victor: Didn’t you want to see the pandas? There will be fewer visitors in the zoo on a working day.

While Victor speaks, he starts the car, inputting the destination into the navigation system.

MC: We’re going right now? But today... I thought you’d prefer a quieter birthday.

Victor: By “quieter”, do you mean by displaying a huge bunch of plush toys at home?

MC: They’re so cute, so I accidentally...

I grin while meeting his look of distaste, and something occurs to me.

MC: But if we're going there today, I could get to know your panda friends by matching them against the photographs.

Seeing me take out the photo album from my bag and giving it a flip, Victor raises his brows in slight shock.

Victor: You even brought their photographs around?

MC: I was originally going to make you a mini photo wall, but couldn’t finish it in time. I planned to bring you the photographs in the evening, so I put them in my bag. Come to think of it, I don’t know what names you gave them.

[Note] This is a contradiction?? Because MC clearly mentioned Little Vick in a pretty old Moment post...

Victor: I didn’t give them names.

MC: Why not?

Victor: I only paid the adoption fees. The rest depends entirely on the zoo staff’s care, so there’s no need to leave them with anything.

MC: But if they don’t have names, how would you recognise them later?

Victor: Do you rely on names to recognise people?

MC: Oo... It’s mainly the face I guess.

Victor: Animals are the same. If you observe their unique traits, you’ll naturally be able to identify them.

The afternoon sunlight is somewhat glaring. I lift my head to avoid the light, and look at Victor in the rearview mirror.

He has a serious expression, but for some reason, I think of a particular fine and sunny weekend we once had, when the light also encased us like this.

At that time, the person beside me had used an ink-less brush, secretly leaving a mark related to him on me.

The car pauses at the crossing, waiting for the red light. Victor straightens the visor for me, turning his head to meet my gaze.

Victor: Why are you staring at me?

MC: I suddenly thought about how someone doesn’t name pandas, yet would write his own name on my face. Doesn’t this mean I’m important to him?

Victor: Good that you know it.

The red light flickers. Victor averts his gaze, staring at the front. Suddenly, he laughs.

Victor: But from what I see now, I’ve already been influenced by a dummy.

The visor shields me from the glaring sunlight, and also makes my vision clearer.

Whether it’s the matching shirt or the Shiba Inu keychain swinging on the car keys...

These seemingly trivial, ordinary and small details clearly reflect the traces that I’ve left on him.

Even though it’s a working day, there are still quite a number of people visiting the pandas in the zoo.

Following the crowd, we take a slow stroll. Many children run past us happily.

Right after walking to the panda area, I see many people congregated at the railings and observing.

Pulling Victor over, rounded panda “dumplings” immediately attract my full attention.

A few young pandas are currently climbing and having fun on wooden poles. Occasionally, they’d bump into each other and roll onto the ground. After exerting energy to flip over, they’d once again climb to the location of their choice.

As if intoxicated and stupefied, I stare at them for a very long time before remembering that the panda baby Victor had adopted could be in their midst. Hurriedly, I take out the photographs from my bag to make comparisons.

However, the pandas before me seem to be carved from the same mold. The colour of their fur are the same, and they are similar in size. There seems to be too much to take in.

I turn my head to look at Victor, who’s next to me. He seems to guess what I’m thinking, and speaks straight away.

Victor: You haven’t identified it?

MC: It’s a little difficult.

Victor points at a panda which is currently climbing a wooden pole.

Victor: That one.

MC: How can you be so certain?

Victor: It injured its leg a few months ago. During the treatment, there was a need to trim the fur around the injury. Look at its hind leg - some of its fur is newly grown.

Fixing my eyes on it, the back of the panda’s right hind leg has a small tuft of relatively shorter fur. Without a careful look, one would think it’s a normal dip.

Flipping and looking through the photos, I realise that it’s actually the case.

Just as I’m about to awe at how Victor is truly perceptive to the finest detail, I suddenly realise something.

MC: Wait, you mentioned that it’s been a few months... Have you always been keeping watch on them?

Victor: The staff will regularly provide feedback on their situation.

MC: So your e-mail isn’t filled only with reports from employees.

Victor: My life doesn’t just consist of work.

He doesn’t respond to my teasing gaze, and he continues looking at the pandas playing freely and leisurely in the garden.

Victor: Are you here to look at the pandas or me?

I respond without giving it much thought.

MC: Both!

Victor: ...

Victor shakes his head in resignation, pulling on my hand as we weave through the crowd.

Victor: There are too many people here. Let’s walk forward.

We walk and pause, following the park’s signboards. Gradually, a patch of empty land appears in my view.

A staff member is currently stacking bamboo next to tree trunks and wooden poles, as though waiting for the pandas to feast.

I tug on Victor to stop. After staying in place for a while, I see a big panda pacing over slowly.

It doesn’t seem to care about how many people are watching it. It heads towards the food, picking a comfortable position to sit down.

Flipping to the photograph of the Daddy Panda eating bamboo, I lift it up to compare it with the panda in front of me.

MC: Victor, isn’t this the panda Uncle gave to you? Its posture of leaning against the tree trunk is exactly the same as in the photo!

Victor leans down and looks over, nodding lightly.

Victor: Yes.

MC: Really? We’re so lucky to meet both of them.

Just as Victor is about to say something, the voice of a small boy suddenly drifts towards us.

Small boy: Little... Vick. Its name is Little Vick!

I’m stunned for a moment, turning my head to find the source of the voice. A small boy is being carried in the arms of his parents, reading out the name based on a nearby board.

Information regarding the pandas on duty are written on the board. Its name is found at the very top, and it’s a name I couldn’t be more familiar with.

[Note] The reason why MC finds it familiar is clearer in Chinese. Victor’s name is 李泽言 (Li Ze Yan), and the panda’s Chinese name is 言言 (Yan Yan)

Because he read the correct words, the small boy is complimented by his parents. He continues reading.

Small boy: Its a boy... and its birthday is 13 January! It’s Little Vick’s birthday today!

Turning back to look at Victor, he currently has an uncomfortable expression on his face, and he clears his throat softly.

Victor: ...my dad named it.

MC: And it happens to have the same birthday?

Victor: Mm.

I try to suppress my laughter, lowering my voice and calling out to Little Vick a few times while it’s engrossed in bamboo.

MC: Little Vick-- We’re here to see you--

Victor: [sighs] ...

MC: Little Vick-- Wishing you a happy birthday--

Victor: Childish.

Victor pretends to have a stern look his poker face, but I can still see the gradually reddening tips of his ears.

I laugh while standing in front of him, straightening my back under his reluctant gaze.

MC: On behalf of myself and Little Vick, we also wish Mr Victor a happy birthday. Don’t feel embarrassed. Your father used your name to name your favourite thing. It’s called “loving the house and its crows”.

[Note] MC uses an idiom, 爱屋及乌 ( “ai wu ji wu”), which literally translates to “love the house and the crows”. This conveys the depth of someone’s love to the point where you like everything related to that person.

Victor: Do you apply the same principle when you enthusiastically name all sorts of objects?

MC: I don’t just name everything. After all, I also “love the house and its crows”. For instance, I used to think that all pandas were very adorable... But right now, I think Little Vick is the cutest.

Only after saying all this in one breath do I feel slightly embarrassed. I hurriedly turn around, taking out my phone to take pictures of Little Vick, wanting to hide the heat on my face.

While snapping photos, I watch for Victor’s reaction. But even after a long time, there isn’t a sound from behind me, and I can’t help but turn around.

“Kacha.”

The golden, dazzling sunlight spreads from behind him, glinting brightly around his raised phone.

Before I can prepare my expression, I see Victor’s phone camera facing me.

He retracts his phone, smiling as he looks at the screen.

MC: [blushing] You... you snuck a photo of me!

Seeing that I’m reaching out to snatch his phone, Victor grabs my wrist, quickly keeping his phone in his pocket.

Victor: This is just a response to your words earlier.

MC: What does that mean?

Victor smiles, his deep eyes filled with my profile.

Victor: It means that there are many dummies in the world... But I only like the one in front of me.

Returning home from the zoo, VIctor’s sudden words repeatedly circle my mind.

In order for him not to realise my state of mind, I take out the ingredients I had prepared in advance the moment I reach home, preparing to burrow into the kitchen to cook.

Victor naturally walks to my side, wanting to take the bags in my hand. I frantically press down on his hand.

MC: Hold on, don’t help. I’ll do it myself!

Victor: There are so many things and you want to do it yourself?

MC: Don’t worry, I’ve practiced at home and can guarantee that I have a knowledge of the fundamentals, and won’t blow up your kitchen. Also, you’re the elderly person whose birthday is being celebrated. So you shouldn’t work. Oh yes, aside from this shirt, I’ve also hidden a few presents at home. Want to look for them?

[Note] MC REALLY USED THE WORD 寿星 ( “shou xing”) which could mean “God of Longevity” or “elderly person whose birthday is being celebrated” LOL

I say everything in one breath, not giving him a chance to retort.

Under my expectant gaze, Victor sighs in resignation, then says a few more words before leaving the kitchen.

With the fastest speed I can manage, I finish cooking. While bringing the dishes to the table, Victor places some gift boxes onto the sofa.

Victor: I’ve found three. That’s all, isn’t it?

MC: Not just these. You could look in other rooms.

Victor: [sighs] Looks like you really planned to prepare a hundred gifts.

MC: I didn’t do it on purpose. When I saw those things, I subconsciously thought of you. But right now, I should invite CEO Victor to test my culinary skills!

After the meal, Victor finds a few more gifts. After giving them a count, I realise there’s still one more missing.

Victor: Why are there more?

MC: The final gift is very critical. I’ll help you get it.

I head straight to Victor’s bedroom. Removing the blanket, I retrieve a long box from a crevice at the corner of the bed.

Victor has his arms crossed over his chest as he stands at the side, watching as I make a show of straightening the ribbon on the gift box.

MC: Don’t worry, there aren’t any weird presents this time. Before, I was always sending you things I liked, but those things weren’t what you liked. So this year, I want to give you some gifts that you need.

Opening the gift box, I take out the tie that I picked out, and display it from all angles.

MC: There aren’t pictures of happy faces, and it doesn’t have a strange colour. You can wear it to work!

Victor looks at me, then walks to the side of the bed and leans down.

Victor: Since a certain someone is doing her utmost to recommend it, I shall see how it looks.

MC: I’ll put it on for you!

It’s rare for Victor to be interested in my presents. I immediately climb up from the bed, flipping his collar up and fastening the tie.

This distance makes the side of his face close enough to touch. His warm breaths are on my shoulder, and I have to force myself to focus on the tie.

With much difficulty, I tie the tie into a basic shape. Victor’s low voice suddenly drifts to my ear.

Victor: This seems to be the first time I’m seeing you wear a proper shirt.

MC: It looks good, doesn’t it?

Victor doesn’t respond. He simply smiles, tidying the back of my collar.

Victor: It’s also the first time I’ve seen you cooking without being clumsy.

MC: Of course I needed to perform properly when cooking in your kitchen.

Victor: It’s also the first time we’re visiting the zoo on a day-off from work.

MC: It’s already the fourth year, and there are still so many firsts?

Victor: Is that a bad thing? Since they are all first times, you can create so-called surprises.

The words at my ear, bringing with them a smile, create ripples in my heart. My hands pause, and I lift my head to look at him.

MC: May I ask CEO Victor - does this mean you’re satisfied with today?

Victor: This isn’t about whether I’m satisfied.

Victor pulls down my hand which is holding onto the tie, beckoning me to sit down.

Just as I plan to scoot over to give him some space, I realise that he has seated down directly on the carpet next to the bed.

MC: Someone always reminds me that the floor is cold. So why is he still sitting on the floor?

Victor: The first time you came to my house, you seem to have said similar words.

While speaking, he tugs the blanket upwards before it slides down my shoulder.

Lowering my head to look at him, the “first time” he’s referring to surfaces in my mind.

The CEO who wilfully lay down on the floor to settle work, and also wilfully had a light sleep in the middle of the piano tune.

He lifts his head to look at me, his teasing gaze unconcealed and bright in the light. The tie, which hasn’t been fastened properly, hangs loosely on his neck.

Without even realising it, his relaxed appearance has become something I've grown used to.

Images in my memories and the person before me gradually match up. I can’t suppress the smile creeping onto my lips, but complain about him anyway.

MC: Victor, you’re really wilful sometimes.

Victor: I learnt it from someone.

MC: ...cough cough. Back to the earlier topic! Could the elderly birthday person please assess today’s plans, and let me gain some experience.

Victor: Everything about today, whether the itinerary or the gifts - I’m very happy with them. Not just today. Every year before this as well.

MC: If you put it that way, I can’t tell how to make it even better. After all, even though it’s been so long, you’ve never directly mentioned what you like.

Victor chuckles softly.

Victor: There’s no need to mention them. When it comes to these things, your efforts always surpass my expectations. Also, the feelings and time you expend - they are even more precious gifts than anything else.

A clamour of emotions ferment in my chest, and I finally peek my head out from the blanket.

MC: Am I one step closer to moving you to tears?

Victor: Judging from your skills in tying a tie, you’re still very far from it. But this is already very good.

As the curtain of night falls, the world outside the window gradually becomes quiet. The ticking of the clock’s secondhand at the bedside becomes clearer.

I glance at the time, and it’s already quite late.

MC: Today’s coming to an end. I’m a little reluctant to part with with it.

Victor: Reluctant to part with the off-day?

MC: Nope. I just feel as though you’ll get busy again after today... You won’t just be my Victor.

I mutter softly, but Victor still hears it. He curls his finger and taps my forehead.

Victor: Who says I'm not? From work to life, which part lacks a certain person’s shadow? Also, other than you, I've never belonged to anyone.

MC: Does this count as a return gift from an elderly man celebrating his birthday?

Victor: It’s just the truth.

I smile while tightening the blanket over myself, shuffling towards him quietly.

MC: But the opportunities to spend time with you without any worries like this are very limited. How do you want to spend the remainder of today?

Victor looks at me, then straightens up to sit with me at the side of the bed.

Victor: For the rest of the time, let’s just stay like this.

I subconsciously loosen my grip on the blanket. He takes the blanket, leans closer to me, and bundles me in it tightly.

The irritating sound of the secondhand suddenly vanishes. In the tranquil night, only the light in the eyes of the person next to me continues flowing and glinting.

Victor: Being without any worries like you wanted - it can be prolonged a little. Also, not just today. Anytime in the future - as long as you want it, it can be done.

🐼 Phone call: here

🐼 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #C R Y I N G #THEY ARE SO CUTE

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berrynarrybanana · 3 years

Text

Holiday Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

A/N: This was meant to be a blurb, but I got carried away. I honestly don’t know how I feel about it, but I wanted to post some Christmassy stuff in between now and Deck the Halls, so here’s a little something. It’s basically over a thousand words of Harry pining for some girl he just met. That seems to be my favorite trope, yeah? Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I hope that you all remember that Christmas isn’t about what you have or what you’re able to give, it’s about spending time with the people you love the most. I’m always here for you all if you need me and I love you loads. Thank you!

Word Count: 5.1K+

Warnings: A little smut, pining, flash forward, ofc

Prompt: “You’re wearing the Santa hat, whether you like it or not” | Taken from this post here!

It wasn’t that Harry hated Christmas.

He loved spending time with his family, drinking mulled wine and talking shit with his Mum and Sister on the couch until the morning light. He loved the Christmas cookies that everyone seemed to bake just for him. Every single one of his friends would wrap them up in cute, candy cane striped cellophane bags with a little bow as if they were worried he’d been deprived of sweets. He loved the warmth that enveloped him when he stepped into any building, dodging the cold winter winds and brutal snowflakes that hit his skin. He loved most things about the season, but he truthfully hated the actual holiday itself.

He hated the music, each song covered by about twenty different artists, (yet, they always sounded the same, somehow), playing on a loop on every single Christmas station. He hated how rude people were in the shops and on the road, as if their time was more important than anyone else's. He hated the stigma around giving expensive gifts, stressing over the perfect thing to get each of his friends. If he could, he’d give them all something homemade, but he was shit at doing anything crafty.

His boots crunched against the snow as he walked towards his mother’s front door.

He let himself in, kicking his shoes off before he removed his scarf and his winter coat. He could hear laughter from the kitchen, Gemma and his Mum giggling far too loud. They must have cracked into the mulled cider a little early, and truthfully, he was jealous. He’d spent the last four hours stuck in traffic listening to white Christmas over and over and over again. He shut the front door as Evie wrapped herself around his legs, her soft purring catching his attention as he glanced down at the black and white kitten.

“Hiya, darling girl.” He crouched down, scooping her into his arms before he delivered a series of kisses over her head. “Daddy’s missed you, eh. Have you been good for your nan?”

She meowed in response, causing Harry to coo at her before he scratched under her chin.

“That’s my girl.” He pressed another kiss to the top of her head before setting her back to the ground.

He knew they would indulge in several cuddle sessions over the next few days, so he wasn’t worried about missing his one and only pet this holiday season. He walked through the house, finding his way into the kitchen where Gemma was tipping back a glass of dark red liquid, and his Mum was rolling out cookie dough with a bright smile on her face. What Harry wasn’t expecting, was the curly haired girl with a cookie cutter in her hand next to his Mum.

“Hello!” He called out, offering a smile as he walked over to the kitchen island. “I see we’ve started having fun already.”

“It took you forever to get here!” Gemma said defensively, picking up a chocolate kiss before tossing it at Harry. “Do you want a drink?”

“Something hot, it’s like the bloody tundra outside.” He shivered at the thought of the harsh wind, his eyes trailing back towards the new girl.

“Stella makes the best peppermint hot chocolate you’ve ever had in your life.” Gemma groaned out, her eyes rolling back in her head. “She puts peppermint vodka in there.”

“I can make you one if you’d like?” Stella’s voice was soft and painfully american. “We’ve got a slow cooker full of hot chocolate.”

“If you don’t mind.” Harry gave her a smile as he pulled out a stool, sitting next to Gemma. “Nice to meet you, Stella. I’m Harry, by the way.”

“She knows who you are.” Gemma reached over, pinching Harry’s side. “Stella is a new transfer at work. She’s new to England, and we thought we’d show her a proper English Christmas.”

“Stella, love, you should probably find another family to spend Christmas with if you want a proper English Christmas.” Harry snorted. “Ours is half arsed at best.”

“We have a lovely Christmas, thank you.” Anne piped up, flicking flour in Harry’s direction as Stella laughed softly. “Don’t scare the poor thing off, we’ve just made her feel at home.”

Stella turned her back, walking towards the stove.

“I suppose we do have a good time.” Harry hummed out. “I can’t wait to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas for the millionth time.”

“They’ve got an animated one now!” Gemma exclaimed. “We’re going to do a double feature.”

“Lovely.” Harry rolled his eyes.

Moments later, a steaming mug of hot chocolate laced was placed in front of Harry.

He looked down at the grinch mug before looking back up at Stella.

“Thanks.” He offered her a smile, but she merely nodded back at him before taking her place next to Anne again.

He watched her, sipping at his drink as Gemma and Anne chatted about some Hallmark movie that was meant to premiere at some point during the week. She wasn’t normally the type of girl that he dated, but he had to admit that she was beautiful. Her cheeks were round, a soft blush smeared over them that he assumed came from a makeup product. Her lashes were thick, and long, shadowing her hazel colored eyes. She had thick brows that seemed a little unruly, and plump lips stained with a plum colored lipstick that matched her smoky, purple eyeshadow. He wasn’t a huge fan of the plum color, but he had to admit that it brought out a lot of the warmer tones in her eyes and in her beautiful, brown skin. He also thought that it complimented the lighter strands in her curly brown hair that bounced about everytime she turned her head.

He tried not to be too obvious with his curious gaze, but he couldn’t help it. He was almost mesmerized by her beauty, but he was more so confused by his attraction to her. She was far too quiet for his taste, her eyes cast down on the cookies she’d been cutting out for the last few minutes while everyone else chatted.

He watched her place them on the tray carefully, obsessing over how they landed before she reached for the colored icing. He watched her pipe onto the little shapes, her tongue nestling in the corner of her mouth as her unsteady hands worked diligently on the cookies.

This was a Styles family Christmas, and the Styles were a rowdy and messy bunch. He’d never seen his Mum or Gemma put that much work into sugar cookies before, and it was almost painful to watch her perfect each and every one before she slipped the tray in the oven. He watched her reach for the cheeky little chicken shaped oven timer that Gemma bought when his Mum fist moved into this house. In all of those years, he’d never seen anyone actually use it.

“Did you hear me, my little turtle dove?” Anne brushed her hand over Harry’s back as he sipped at his cocoa. “They’re calling for a huge storm this weekend, are you packed for that?”

“I left some stuff here the last time I was around.” He turned his head, smiling back at her. “I think I should be fine if I get stuck with you lot.”

“Good.” She nodded, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, Mumma.” He wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her into a hug.

The warm scent of vanilla and musk greeted his senses, flooding him with comfort and nostalgic memories of cuddling with Mum on the couch. He missed having her around him. He missed having his best friend around to comfort him when he needed it the most. When he let go of her, his heart sank a little in his chest. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before moving back to work on more cookie dough.

“Why are you making so many cookies?” He asked, brows furrowing as he brushed his fingers over the sickly green mug with the cartoon characters face on it. “Do you plan on feeding an army?”

“No, but Stella suggested that we take some down to the local homeless shelter on Christmas Eve.” Anne smiled over at the girl. “That’s her family's Christmas tradition, and since she’s not with them this year, we thought we’d make it happen for her here.”

“Thank you again, for agreeing to this.” Stella smiled at Anne. “It really means the world to me, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re a part of the family now, dear.” Anne teased. “Even if you’re not spending Christmas with us, this little tradition of yours has been officially integrated into our own Christmas tradition. We’ll always have a little bit of Stella with us during the Holiday’s now, eh.”

Stella laughed at that, reaching her arms out to wrap Anne in a hug.

Harry almost felt a little jealous at how seamlessly she fit in here.

“If you keep staring at her, she’s gonna want to run back to America.” Gemma nudged her elbow into his side. “We get it, she’s hotter than you.”

“Oh, shut up.” Harry rolled his eyes at Gemma as she smirked. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Okay, Casanova.” She snorted. “Whatever you say.

Harry wasn’t sure why he was hard.

He just wanted to close his eyes and go the fuck to sleep.

After a long day of travel, and an even longer evening filled with Harry pulling down Christmas decorations from the attic, he just wanted to sleep. He wasn’t looking forward to taking the annual trip to the Christmas Tree Farm tomorrow. Since Robin passed, Harry was the only man in the family, which meant that he often had to do the heavy lifting. He found that most of his strength lay in his core, despite the amount of lifting he’d done to buff up his arms, and he wasn’t looking forward to tossing a tree on top of his car while everyone watched.

Truthfully, that was the worry that should have been plaguing his mind as he lay in bed. Instead, his mind was lost in hazel colored waves that crashed on dark plum shores. He couldn’t stop thinking about Stella’s eyes or her perfectly shaped lips. He spent most of his night watching her drink from a wine glass, her cheeks turning a shade darker with each joke that she shared with his family. If there was one thing that he was shocked about, it was the dry humor that tumbled from her perfect plum colored lips. She was a funny girl, despite being quiet, and he laughed at every single joke she told without shame.

As he shifted his about, trying to avoid any further thoughts about her lips, the tip of his cock brushed against the warm flannel of his pajama pants. He let out a throaty groan, reaching down to push his palm into the crotch of his pants to soothe the pressure building in his lower belly. He couldn’t jack off to the thought of Gemma’s new friend, it would be awful, and it would surely land him on the naughty list. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best not to picture her lipstick staining his lower belly, his upper thighs, and eventually...the shaft of his cock. But after a few minutes of trying not to think about it, that was the only thing he could see behind closed eyes.

With an annoyed grumble, he dipped his hand into his pajama pants, tugging his cock out while his free hand pushed the band of the pants down his hips. He licked over his dry lips, making a mental note to buy some chapstick tomorrow as he gave himself one, swift stroke. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to moan as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. He was pathetic, dripping down his cock over a girl that he barely knew. He couldn’t believe that he was being that guy right now, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of a beautiful girl on her knees for him. He wanted so badly to have her there, whispering filthy words in that gentle tone she had, encouraging him to cum on her tongue.

When he did cum, her name spilled from his lips.

His chest was heaving as he came down, the tinkling of Stella’s laughter filling his ears.

Seconds later, he heard her bid goodnight to Gemma before the door next to his own shut.

He was totally fucked for this girl.

The next morning, he didn’t expect to see Stella sitting at the breakfast bar when he came downstairs.

He stopped in the doorway, his cheeks growing warm as he looked over her sweater covered back. Thoughts of her name tumbling from his lips last night flooded back as he looked at her. She was wearing a lavender colored, cable knit sweater, and her curls were tied up in a messy ponytail on top of her head. Most of the curls had fallen out, covering up some of her neck alongside her fingers. Her cheek was propped on her palm, her gaze focused on her laptop as she lifted a mug of steaming liquid up to her mouth with her other hand.

Harry cleared his throat, walking toward the stove so he could put the kettle on. No one else in the house would be up for hours, but Harry couldn’t turn off his internal alarm clock no matter how he tried. He also hoped that he might find a moment of peace from the very girl sitting in his Mother’s kitchen. She haunted his dreams, her face playing on the silver screen in his mind all night long. He hated how infatuated he was with this woman that he barely even knew.

“Morning.” She spoke up first, her voice scratchy and tired. “Did you sleep well?”

“Splendid, yeah.” He nodded, filling the kettle with water. “You?”

“I’ve slept better, but that’s to be expected.” She said softly. “I spent a little bit of time on a skype call with my brother’s, so I was up longer than expected.”

“But you’re up fairly early this morning, aren’t you?” He put the kettle on the stovetop before turning around, his eyes landing on hers. “Why’s that?”

“I wake up this early anyways.” She smiled at him. “I usually like to go for a walk in the morning to wake myself up.”

“That’s nice.” He lifted his hand, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “I usually like to go for a swim or a run in the morning, too.”

“Where do you swim?” She asked.

“There’s a men’s swimming club not too far from my home in London.” He said. “It’s freezing cold, but you get used to it after a while.”

“Jeeze, you swim outside in this weather?” She lifted her head from her palm, her eyes growing wide. “I could never.”

“It’s an acquired taste.” He chuckled softly. “What are you working on?”

“A new piece for my blog.” She said. “I started out using it as a diary of sorts, but people apparently love reading about the disaster that is my life.”

“I’m sure it’s not all horrible.” He hoped that he sounded encouraging and not rude. “You seem like a lovely, and positive person.”

“I try to be.” She shrugged, reaching for her mug. “I could say the same about you.”

“I try to be.” He smiled at her. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“Oh, I was actually thinking of popping down to this little bakery Gemma told me about-”

“Mandeville’s.” His heart picked up, a smile stretching across his lips. “Had my first job there.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” She laughed, wrapping both hands around her mug as she leaned back in the barstool. “I figured I’d go grab some pastries for everyone. I know it’s kind of a busy day with the Christmas Tree Farm, so I thought it would be best if your Mum didn’t feel the need to cook.”

“She would love that.” Harry said. “Maybe I could go with you? We could both get our walks in, and I can see Mary before she hunts me down and drags me to the bakery.”

“I would love the company.” She smiled. “But enjoy your tea first, I’ll just be working on this until we’re ready to go.”

“Cheers.” He nodded, watching her eyes drop to her computer screen.

She wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup this morning, and Harry almost wished that she was.

He wished that she had covered up her beautiful, freckle covered skin so that he didn’t fall harder for her beautiful face. He wished that she was hiding away those little blemishes that made him swoon, because she was actually a human after all, not some angel sent down from heaven to torture him. He wished that she covered those beautiful lips in that plum lipstick again so that he could imagine kissing it off of her. He hated the feeling stirring inside of his belly, the butterflies a tell tale sign of his feelings.

He had a crush on Stella.

And there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling for her.

Stella’s gloves were precious.

They were a bright red, little snowflakes and reindeer stitched into them.

She offered to let Harry borrow a pair of her gloves, claiming that she’d brought plenty of pairs for the winter, but he politely declined before shoving his hands in his pockets. She looked so cozy, wrapped up in her winter coat with a beanie on top of her head and a matching scarf tied around her neck. Harry wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and cuddle her so that they could both stay nice and toasty on their walk. He wanted to kiss her bare cheeks, paying special attention to each freckle on her skin as the winter sun cast over them.

He was so infatuated with her that it was almost embarrassing.

“I can’t even imagine what it was like, growing up in a place like this.” Stella turned her head towards Harry, the tip of her nose a little red. “It’s so picturesque.”

“It’s alright.” He gave her a small smile. “I always wanted to get out when I was a kid.”

“Of course you did, we all do.” She chuckled. “I think everyone should run away for a little while, it really gives you all of the tools you need to really appreciate your hometown when you go back. I don’t know that I’ll ever move back to my hometown, but when I visit it, I feel a little bit more appreciative of the pivotal role it had in raising me.”

“I feel the same way about Cheshire.” Harry nodded. “It’s a big part of who I was, and that helped make me who I am. I wouldn’t be the same without this place.”

“Exactly.” She said.

“So where exactly are you from?” He asked. “I mean, obviously America-”

“Is it that obvious?” She asked, narrowing her eyes playfully, her lips pursed. “I don’t think it is.”

“It’s a neon, flashing sign above your head kind of obvious, love.” He snorted. “But I can’t place what your accent is.”

“It’s not really an accent.” Stella shrugged, turning her attention back to the sidewalk. “I grew up on the road for most of my life, but my family settled in Georgia when I was about twelve.”

“Interesting.” He said. “How did you like Georgia?”

“I didn’t, at first.” She laughed. “I hated it so much. I loved being on the road with my family, traveling places like Hawaii and Los Angeles. When we moved to the south, I despised everything about it. It was so plain and boring compared to places we’d lived before. But like I said, moving away has made me learn to love it more when I go back.”

“How long have you been gone?” He asked.

“About three years.” She said. “I lived in Amsterdam for a year, and then Paris, and now I’m here.”

“Which place is your favorite?” He asked. “Be honest with me, now. You don’t have to say London just because you’re trying to get on my good side.”

Stella tossed her head back, laughing loudly.

“I think it’s truthfully London, Harry.”

His name sounded like honey falling from her lips.

“Why is that?” He asked.

“Because I’ve found my chosen family.” She turned back, giving him a smile that thawed out the chill creeping up from his toes. “Starting with Gemma, of course. She was the first person to take me under her wings, and I’m so happy that I have her in my life. Then I started to find other people, and we all became this really close knit group of friends that felt more like family than my actual family does. I don’t know how I’ll ever leave this place.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He said softly. “Maybe this is home.”

Please don’t go, Stella.

Stay here with me forever.

Love me.

“My contract is up at the end of the year, but we’ll just have to see how things go.” She said. “I might be convinced to stay.”

“Well, I guess I have a lot of work to do.” He chuckled.

“Why are you so keen on me staying?” She asked him, her brows raising as she gave him a knowing smirk. “Do you have a crush on me, Styles?”

His cheeks grew hot against the cold wind.

“Alright now, don’t let that go to your head.” He grumbled, tucking his neck into his scarf as Stella’s smile grew wider. “It’s all your bloody fault, you know?”

“What have I done?” She laughed louder. “I’m just me.”

“That’s exactly it.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re you, Stella.”

The Christmas Tree Farm was going well.

That was up until Gemma decided that they absolutely needed to take a family picture in front of the big Christmas tree, Stella included. They had picked up a few little trinkets and such while walking around the market included in the farm. Anne picked up a reindeer headband with bells stitched in, plopping it on her head the second she found it. Gemma found an elf’s hat with little ears attached to the side, putting it on her hair before fussing with her hair. Stella found a crown made of poinsettias that she plopped on top of her curls, the red and gold working perfectly with her red lipstick and gold eyeshadow. Harry, however, wasn’t exactly in the spirit.

“You’re wearing the bloody santa hat, whether you like it or not!” Gemma shoved it towards him with a frown. “If you stand next to Stella, you’ll like Mr. and Mrs. Claus!”

“Shut up, Gemma.” Harry sneered, snatching the hat from her hands. “I didn’t tell you about that so you could throw it in my face!”

“Well, I’m doing it for the greater good of our family photo!” She glared at him. “Put that hat on before I shove it on your head myself.”

“Fine.”

“Are you two alright?” Stella smirked, adjusting her crown on her head as she walked up to Harry and Gemma. “Santa is still putting people on the naughty list you know?”

“If anyone’s going to be on the naughty list, it’s Harry.” Gemma tossed her arm around Stella’s shoulder with a proud smirk. “He’s being a pain in the arse.”

“Is the hat really necessary to the photo?” He groaned, dropping his head back.

“Yes.” Stella and Gemma said at the same time.

“Alright, alright.” He groaned, tugging the hat over his curls. “Are you both happy now?”

“Ecstatic.” Stella smiled brightly at Harry. “I think you look handsome.”

“I’m going to just point out…” Gemma pulled her arm from around Stella, tucking her hands behind her back. “That there’s mistletoe hanging from that piece of wood above your heads.”

“Gemma-” Harry’s eyes grew wide.

“And I’m promptly going to walk away.” She smiled at Stella. “Meet us at the tree in ten minutes.”

“Gemma-” Stella held her hand out as Gemma walked away, her eyes growing just as wide as Harry’s were. “What a sneaky little elf.”

“Tell me about it.” Harry shifted, adjusting the hat on his head. “Devious little-”

“Well, I guess we can’t break tradition.” Stella looked up at Harry, shuffling forward slowly with a little smirk on her lips. “I mean, what would Santa say if we didn’t kiss under the mistletoe?”

Harry licked over his bottom lip, his fingers twitching.

“You really want to kiss me?”

“I might.” Stella’s toes were almost touching Harry’s now. “But the question is, do you want to kiss me?”

“I do, yeah.” He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since I laid eyes on you, Stella.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” She raised her brows. “Now is your chance, Mr. Grinch, lay one on me.”

Harry lifted his hands, pressing them to Stella’s face hesitantly before he lowered his lips to hers in a soft kiss. It was a gentle peck, one that anyone would share underneath the mistletoe, but Harry wanted more from Stella. It seemed that she wanted more as well, her arms sliding around his neck as she pressed up on her toes. He let his hands fall to her waist as the kiss grew more intense, his hands holding onto her tightly as she brushed her tongue over his lower lip. He tried his best not to smile into the kiss, letting her have what she wanted by parting his lips. When her tongue slipped over his, he let out a tiny moan, gripping her hips tighter.

“Get a room, you two!” Harry groaned, pressing his forehead to Stella’s.

“Gemma, I swear to god-” Harry turned his head, whipping his santa hat off before he threw it in her direction. “Go bother someone else!”

Stella laughed, ducking her forehead down to Harry’s chest as he rubbed his thumbs over her side gently. He felt her body shaking underneath his hands, his heart hammering in his chest when he realized just how close they actually were. He turned his head back, lifting a hand up to guide Stella’s chin up. He pressed his lips to hers once, twice, three more times before she pressed her palms to Harry’s chest.

“We’ll never stop if we don’t move away from the mistletoe.” Stella whispered. “And I think Gemma might physically pull us apart if we miss that Christmas picture.”

“Let it be known that I’m only partaking in this picture because I want to stand next to you for as long as I can.” Harry smiled. “I think I have a little more than a crush on you, Stella.”

“I think I have more than a crush on you, too.”

“Madeline, stop right there.” Stella let out a frustrated sigh as she looped her arm under the baby carrier, her eyes falling down to the sleeping infant. “Milo, promise Mumma that you’ll listen when you get to that age?”

“Give him here.” Harry brushed a kiss over Stella’s temple, his hand massaging her lower back gently. “You go catch up with speed racer, okay? I’ll be right behind you with the baby and the diaper bag.”

“Thank you.” Stella turned her head, puckering her lips out. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He hummed out. “And our beautiful babies, even if one of them has a death wish and two left feet.”

Stella snorted out a laugh, pulling her arm from the carrier before she stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I better go help her up the stairs.”

“Please, we don’t need a repeat of last year.” Harry smiled.

“Yeah, I would like to avoid a trip to A&E this year.” Stella snorted.

He watched Stella walk over to an antsy Madeline, her pigtails bouncing about as she jumped from foot to foot in excitement. Harry chuckled softly at his daughter, amused by her excitement. He was happy that she found so much joy in Christmas, just like her Mother did. He watched Stella hold a hand out, waiting for Madeline to take it before they both conquered the brick steps outside of his Mum’s house. When they got to the top, Stella lifted Madeline up, kissing over her cheeks as their daughter giggled. Harry lifted Milo’s car seat from the base, his eyes falling down to the six month old with hazel eyes and soft cheeks just like his Mother’s.

“We’ve got our hands full with those two, mate.” Harry pulled the soft, wintery blue blanket up to Milo’s chin, tucking it around his shoulders so that he would stay warm. “Gonna keep us both on our toes, I know it.”

Milo cooed up at him, causing Harry to smile wider before he ducked his head down to kiss his son's soft cheeks.

“Let’s get you into Nan’s before you turn into a popsicle, my love.” Harry said. “Mumma won’t be happy if we have to spend Christmas thawing you out.”

As Harry made his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but remember five Christmases ago.

He was walking up the exact same steps on his own, unaware of the magic that was waiting inside for him. He was unaware that the girl Gemma brought home for Christmas would one day be his wife, and the mother of his two beautiful children. He had no idea that they would spend long nights together, planning their future and holding each other tight. He opened the front door to his Mum’s house, smiling at the sound of Madeline telling his Mother a story with animated gestures, her curly pigtails bouncing around as Stella tried to wrangle her jacket off.

“And then Daddy told me we could get a puppy next year if I was good enough!” Madeline squealed out as Harry shut the door.

He dodged the steely gaze he got from Stella after she heard the word puppy.

“Sorry.” He mouthed over at her, causing her to shake her head as she tried to fight off a smile.

“You’re a menace.” She mouthed back. “But I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He said it outloud, his heart soaring in his chest.

Stella gave him a heart warming smile, Madeline’s coat still in her hands.

Seconds later, Milo let out a tiny cry causing Harry to snap back into dad mode.

He rested the carseat on the ground, carefully pulling his son out before pressing a kiss to his chubby little cheeks. As if Gemma could sense his presence, she barreled into the living room with her eyes set on Milo.

“There’s my little man.” She held her hands out, wiggling them as Harry rolled his eyes. “You get to see him every day, Harry. Pass him over to his auntie.”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Please be careful with him, I kind of like this one.”

“Piss off.” Gemma snorted out, sliding Milo onto her hip before pressing a bright red kiss mark into his forehead. “Has Daddy told you that without auntie Gem, you wouldn’t exist?”

“Gemma-”

“Can you believe that?” She looked up at Harry, a hint of something nostalgic and genuine sparkling in her green eyes. “If I’d never brought Stella to family Christmas, we wouldn’t have two beautiful babies to dote over every year.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what life would be like without them.” He whispered. “Thank you, Gemma.”

“Harry, I really didn’t-”

“Gemma.” He said her name sternly, pressing his palm to her bicep. “Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She said softly, her eyes watering. “Now, if you could do me a favor and bring a hot friend around, I’d really appreciate it.”

“I’ll see what I can manage.” He let out a wet chuckle, his own eyes watering.

“What are we managing?” Stella wrapped her arms around Harry.

“We owe Gem a favor.” He sniffled, turning head to press a kiss to Stella’s forehead.

“Why are you crying, baby?” Stella frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all.” He pressed his lips to hers, softly brushing his nose against the tip of hers as his. “Just so incredibly grateful to have you in my life, that’s all.”

“You’re so sappy around the holiday’s.” Stella brushed her palm over his belly. “I love you, Mr. Styles.”

“I love you, too, Mrs. Styles.” He said. “Merry Christmas, Darling.”

“Merry Christmas.”

#not edited #as per usual #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry fic #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry styles X ofc #harry styles christmas fic #harry styles blurb #harry blurb #harry styles christmas blurb

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“Oh, hello there Sakura.”

She almost lost her balance when she saw her next customers. Standing beside Kakashi with her arm entangled in his was a brunette, a spitting image of Dr. Aki Nohara, a giveaway that this was her sister. Sakura’s surroundings dimmed out of focus, and her hearing became muffled as if she was submerged underwater.

“Couldn’t mistake that green eyes for anyone,” Kakashi continued. “I’ll have a caramel butterscotch with extra whipped cream – make it super heavy – and Rin –“

“That’s supposed to be my order, you dummy,” the woman replied beside him. He chuckled in fascination and tightened his hold on her arm. “Besides, you don’t like sweets.”

“You’re still on a specialized diet so allow me to eat and drink whatever you want while you stick with – “ Kakashi glanced at Sakura, and she immediately mustered a tight-lipped smile. “One iced americano in your smallest size please. Thanks, Sakura.”

She took in a deep breath, suddenly aware that she wasn’t able to acknowledge her teacher and his companion, but so many things have been running through her head – like how did he know it was her? Why was he with Rin? Did he propose already? She hasn’t even confessed yet.

Somehow, in the dragging silence in her ears, she heard Sasuke cleared his throat. That was enough to break her from the spell, and she put on her bravest mask. “Hi Kakashi-sensei. Nice of you to drop by! I’ll have your order ready in a jiffy.”

Kakashi turned around and waved lazily at Sasuke. “One of my students is here too. Are you on a red eye advance study?”

“Can’t sleep so might as well have caffeine.”

“You’re too young to have this energy.”

Rin jokingly slapped Kakashi on the arm. “You talk as if you’re old already.”

“But aren’t I?” The pair slowly drifted away to find a table, but Sakura noticed the flash of recognition when Rin took a long good look at Sasuke, but her friend stared at them like he was throwing sharp draggers.

“He looks happy,” Sakura noted as she fixed their drinks.

“I want your favorite coffee,” Sasuke quipped out of nowhere.

“There’s a thing called palpitations. It’s caramel macchiato.”

“Might do me some good while I wait for you to finish your shift.”

Sakura sighed, feeling the tiredness come upon her all of a sudden so she relented. “Just take it to-go. I want to get out of here.”

She quickly asked permission from the manager, saying she felt sick and fatigued, and with her clocking overtime in the past few weeks, her request was immediately approved without deductions. The mixed winter and spring air hit her lungs as soon as she stepped outside. Sasuke waited for her across the street, a gesture that implied she could go to him or separate ways right now. As she vied for time to decide, she took one last look through the window.

It was a foreign sight. She has never seen Kakashi’s attention torn apart from his books. Even if he was talking, there would be an open page on his side, stealing glances on passages when the conversations got boring, yet there he was, fully attuned to whatever Rin was saying with no book around him…like she was his favorite book and he enjoyed reading every letter of her.

And Sakura realized she could never be the story he would even want to pick up.

She felt the tears coming so she started her pace on the same road. Across from her, Sasuke got the signal and went the other way.

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

The last term of their second year came like a bazooka. Sakura threw herself on her pet project as a sort of coping mechanism. The announcement was done during the general assembly which did not generate the intended buzz or reaction. After all, it was a tricky topic to handle and many facets of which were still stigmatized when talked openly in public. Naruto, ever the people magnet, broke the agitated atmosphere in the auditorium with a slow clap and was soon joined by many others.

The council created a Google form which allowed students to anonymously register, and they get assigned a schedule on the day their contracted psychiatrist comes to visit. All they had to do was provide their designated client number. The council further complemented this with short programs that serve as mental health breaks for the student body. Sometimes, this would be as light as a block screening of a coming-of-age film or heavy like a conference with faculty and teachers and questions and concerns are remotely flashed.

Then came Valentines’ Day, and the council organized this some kind of literary showcase that presented the opportunity to mingle woes of personal sadness and griefs with confessions that would have been left unsaid. Naruto and Sasuke both helped in constructing the makeshift stage in the middle of the soccer field that would be used later that afternoon.

“Cookie points for my crush,” Naruto grinned as he hammered away. “Thanks for picking the poem I will be reciting tonight, grumpy. Didn’t know you were into literature.” He jokingly elbowed the raven-haired beside him, and he got a death glare in return.

“Do it properly. Look at that nail sticking out like your porcupine hair,” Sasuke grumbled. “And yes, I’m not as uncultured as you are.”

“But I still don’t understand it though.”

“Ugh, just use the internet to search its meaning, idiot.”

“Meanie!”

A fellow runner peeked into their work area and knocked on wood. “Hey Uchiha. Some girl is looking for you.” Her face expressed grimace, having done this for more than five times already within the span of an hour. If it wasn’t Sasuke, it was one of Naruto’s fan girls or boys.

Sasuke went to her and fumbled around for cash in his pocket. “Next time someone looks for us, tell them we went home for the day. Here’s money for your date later. If you have anyway.”

“Whatever grumpy.” The runner replied, still half-angry, half-frustrated, but she took the money all the same and told the girls that ‘They told me to tell you they went home for the day so shoo shoo.’

Naruto laughed at Sasuke’s successful attempt at bribery. “Look at that rich money. I wonder whether Sakura will give us chocolates.”

“Have you seen their office?” Sasuke flipped open the curtains that will be hang as backdrop. “Their desk is filled with chocolates from her admirers – platonically, romantically, whatever. Some people from other schools dropped by too. You got serious competition.”

Naruto chuckled nervously. “As if I do not know that already. Haven’t you told me before- she likes everyone and everyone likes her.”

Not really true at all now, Sasuke thought to himself. But ignorance is bliss, Naruto.

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

The three sat on the grass beside the stage, having full view of the student body listening to the reciters. Throughout the program, Sakura went through each package given to her, visibly stressed with evident signs of sleepless nights under her eyes.

“Before I forget, happy Valentine’s day you two. My council-mates told me you didn’t get any chocolates,” Sakura gave each of them a pouch of small chocolate bars. Sasuke didn’t have to guess if it was store-bought or homemade based on the cuts on her fingers.

“Sakura, stop eating. I almost gagged at the seventh chocolate,” Naruto complained. He tried to get the basket of sweets from her, but she just moved it away from his reach.

“Everything tastes bitter,” she muttered under her breath. “I need sugar. My energy can’t keep up with the countless interviews. I understand that the school board liked the exposure, but the burden falls on me. At least have a teacher back me up?”

“Heard Kakashi-sensei volunteered to accompany you in interviews?” Sasuke was too late in shutting Naruto up, but the most that question got out of Sakura was an eyebrow raise.

“I need more sweets.” She proceeded to jam the rest of the Hershey’s kisses in her mouth.

“Okay, we have a submission from Uzumaki Naruto,” the announcer said. “Shout out to our rookie MVP!” A round of applause. “And who might be the recipient of this poem? We heard through the grapevine that he hid from his admirers all day. I know several people are waiting to confess to him!”

Sasuke instructed him earlier to send the poem anonymously and address it to Sakura, but the dumbass blonde mistakenly exchanged it. He rubbed his forehead in annoyance, but he can’t bring it up right now.

“Just read the poem!” Naruto shouted on the side, clearly embarrassed now. Sakura looked up at him, genuinely curious now, and her sticky chocolate-filled mouth was on the edge of firing him questions.

“Sasuke and I sent in poems! Just to support your program, nothing really too deep into it ehe.” Naruto glanced at Sasuke with slightly widened eyes. “Right, Sasuke?”

“Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare,” the person started.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,

Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

Sakura slapped Naruto on the arm. “Didn’t know you read Shakespeare! What a romantic!”

“Isn’t it a tragedy?” Sasuke remarked, a look of disgust in his face when Sakura mindlessly offered him a toblerone. “No sweets for me.”

Sakura guffawed at Sasuke’s remark, and her laughing was a rare sight recently. She was in too deep in her student council functions that they barely see her. And when they did, she’d be a little bit closer to fatigue.

“What’s funny? Who’s Shakespeare? Let me in on the joke!”

“Let’s call on Kakashi-sensei, our very own student council advisor and youngest teacher in the university. He’ll be reciting a poem by Pablo Neruda. A man of culture, we see,” the emcee announced.

Sakura stopped laughing as soon as she heard his name. If Sasuke could glean into her thoughts, she’s probably making up excuses to escape right now.

Kakashi stood in the middle of the stage, holding an open book. “Let me just ramble on here for a bit. Neruda is a Chilean poet and a politician, but just as much as he is a revolutionary, he is a romantic and a worshipper of ideals and ordinary things. He often compared his muses to earth and nature – basic providers of our existence. It’s interesting to see. Now, this poem is what I would have wanted to say to someone who is fundamentally part of my existence, but she won’t listen to me.” Kakashi smiled even more at the onset of outburst of giggles from the students. “So you’re gonna be the audience whether you want it or not.”

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day

I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,

hunting for you, for your hot heart,

like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

A thundering applause followed Kakashi’s poem and random shouts of, “Drop her name sensei!” “Good luck to your love life!” “Happy for you, sensei!”

As the lights went out on the stage, Sakura fished another pouch from her vest pocket, and Sasuke knew at once that it was Kakashi’s. She popped a bar into her mouth, staring blankly ahead.

“God, it’s so bitter.” Her lips started to quiver, and she started to cry.

Naruto threw a worried glance at Sasuke, but his expression must have given something away because the blonde didn’t prod, and he looked as if all the puzzles fell into place.

Sasuke just didn’t expect to be confronted about it as soon as the program finished. He was carrying blocks of wood to the shed when Naruto dropped the question – a question he already knew the answer to.

“You like Sakura.”

Sasuke inhaled sharply and halted his steps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stacked the wood against each other and turned to face the blonde. “Besides, shouldn’t you be worrying about exams?”

“What exams? We’re exempted from it,” Naruto bristled.

Sasuke smirked. “No, you’re not. You didn’t qualify for finals.”

“Oh shit.”

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

“What do we get in return?” Sakura asked as she munched on her bento box. Shouts of the practicing dragonboat team filtered through their space.

“But last time you volunteered!” Naruto said.

“We’re friends so my services don’t come free anymore,” she chided back.

Naruto glared at Sasuke. “If she’s not gonna do it, you’re gonna do it.”

Sasuke nonchalantly shook his head as he skimmed through Naruto’s notes. “What she said.” They weren’t notes per se, but doodles of Sasuke and Sakura and interestingly, projections of different batting stances. “I’m also not gonna forgive you with the duck butt hair.”

“But you have a duck butt hair!” Naruto crossed his arms and huffed menacingly. “Ramen?”

“Same old, same old.” Sakura finished her lunch and started to sip her cranberry juice. “Give us something new.”

“Ramen and…..karaoke?”

Sakura brightened up at the prospect. “Deal.”

“At least add snacks to your place,” Sasuke interjected. “And not just ramen. Put some nuts or fruits in your fridge.”

Naruto grumbled but raised two thumbs up in defeat. “Deal.”

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

Sasuke has thin patience when it came to teaching Naruto, Sakura observed. She didn’t know how these two managed to do the supplementary math lessons when she wasn’t a part of their group yet. She didn’t mind teaching, but Naruto’s short attention span was a devil of its own. He would be attentive to her for 15 minutes and then drowse off so Sasuke and her agreed on non-negotiables.

“No ramen break for you if you don’t finish this set of problems,” Sakura told him.

“You’re demon spawns,” Naruto cried out in defiance.

“If you don’t get a passing score on this sample test, no kani toppings for you.” Sasuke raised the stakes.

“Demon spawns,” Naruto repeated.

“You won’t call us demon spawns if you see your name on the list of passers.” Sakura started the stopwatch on her phone. “Now go.”

This took her mind off things, from Kakashi’s public confession to the blank career form hidden within the pages of her history textbook. It was a good distraction until the penultimate exams day. Naruto came in with a bandana on his forehead with FIGHTING written in the middle of it. Sasuke, as usual, breezed through it, already finished by the thirty-minute mark.

And she? Well, she liked exams. The time limit and the pressure allowed her the reprieve to shut the rest of the world out so she relished answering each number until the bell rang. It was a moment where she can focus fully on the paper in front of her, the sound of her pen scribbling, and her mind working full force to cull out the answers in her memory. Her utmost concentration on questions suspended her own questions on her feelings for a teacher, on her parents’ divorce, on her future.

When the school plastered the results on the bulletin board, she couldn’t help but release a satisfied chuckle. She turned to Sasuke who was surprisingly stoic about the results. “First place! The bonus point really helped.”

“Why should I bother with a teacher’s middle name for the bonus question?” Sasuke grumbled back. “Congrats. Stop rubbing it in my face already.”

Naruto was too busy pointing his name on the board and bragging about it to the student body, most especially the freshies. When he found them on the back of the crowd, he rushed to them and placed his arms around their shoulders “Drinks on me!!!!!”

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

“He really shouted drinks on me in the middle of the school, sauntered in here like he’s loaded, and ordered two pitchers of iced tea.” Sakura kept bringing this up since they entered the karaoke room ten minutes ago.

Naruto was preoccupied with inputting song numbers on the machine to respond to Sakura’s banters. “Technically, they’re still drinks!”

Sasuke was on the phone with the kitchen, and from what she could hear, he was ordering almost everything on the menu. When he sat down on the adjacent couch, Sakura leaned forward to him. “Are you gonna finish all of that?”

He jutted his index finger to Naruto. “No, but he will.”

The first notes of Michael Jackson’s Thriller wafted through the room, and the blonde made a quick impression of the artist’s famed moonwalk.

“Why are you opening with that?” Sakura cried out in amusement. “It’s not even Halloween!” Sasuke watched Naruto try to dance with a straight face, but she thought he was itching to face palm the whole time.

Naruto kept beckoning Sakura to join him in the middle of the room, but she was busy laughing at him and taking videos. “I’ll send these to Haru as a pick-me-up. I think this is the best remedy.”

Next was Sakura’s pick – Heaven is a Place on Earth by Belinda Carlisle. She couldn’t contain her laughter in between verses when the two boys finally heard that she was tone deaf. Naruto joined her with the other mic, trying to drown out the off-key notes. By the bridge, Sasuke stood up with them, a glass of juice in his hand, and mouthed the words.

“You know this song!” Sakura said excitedly.

“I don’t live under a rock!” He yelled back amid the loud music.

“OOOH BABY DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT’S WORTH OOH HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH. THEY SAY IN HEAVEN, LOVE COMES FIRST. OOH HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH!”

“Okay who’s next?” she asked when the next number flashed on the screen. Sasuke silently took the mic from her and faced the monitor with a hand in his pants’ pocket.

Naruto gripped the mic harder when the song started. “I’ll be your second voice, grumpy!”

She immediately went to the front and started recording. “One for the road.”

“No videos, Haruno,” Sasuke warned.

“Come on, it’s my remembrance,” she whined. He wasn’t able to clap back when the lines started to move.

“Turn around…” Naruto sang.

“Every now and then, I get a little bit lonely and you’re never coming ‘round,” Sasuke’s baritone voice filled the room like an empty coliseum.

“The fuck. You can sing?” Sakura gasped out loud. “How can you have that voice and not sing - like you know, every day?!”’

Sasuke gestured her to stop as he belted, stoic-faced, through the chorus with Naruto singing like a slaughtered pig in the background. Sakura stopped recording and joined them for the rest of the song.

Two hours and three pitchers of orange juice later, they finally settled on the couch and munched on Naruto’s leftovers of fries, buttered chicken, nachos, and calamari. On the karaoke monitor was David Bowie singing Heroes.

“Can’t believe we’re already seniors two months from now.” He stared at the ceiling, his eyes following the tag game of disco lights. “Elections of officers will be tomorrow which means Captain Haru will be formerly stepping down.”

Sasuke reached out and shook his hand. “Good luck next captain.”

Naruto immediately pulled out from his grasp. “What do you mean next captain?”

Sakura chuckled and patted his back as assurance. “Everyone knows it’ll be you. Have you seen how your teammates look at you when you’re discussing strategies?”

In the dimness of the room, she saw the flush on Naruto’s cheeks, and she found it amusing how he cannot take compliments.

Naruto scratched the back of his head. “Well, everything is possible, right? That said, I still haven’t filled out my college form, but I’m really set on getting an athletic scholarship and eventually be part of the national team! How about you grumpy? Changed your mind yet?”

“About what?” Sakura glanced at the silent raven-haired guy beside her. To be able to see this much of him was a nice privilege.

“I’m moving away after high school.” Sasuke fiddled with his half-empty glass, his eyes trained on the slushing juice. “I already sent applications to some universities in Europe.”

“We also have good medicine programs here. I don’t get why you have to move away so far. I’m so bad with converting time zones.”

Sasuke scrunched his nose in annoyance. “Are you dumb? The schools you listed are also out of this district.”

She seemed to be moving farther and farther from their exchange. Like an outsider peeking in, she understood the frailty of the moments in front of her, and by the time the next two months set in, the stopwatch would have started running its last lap. The bonds she has made so serendipitously were in danger of being cut off by dreams. She breathed in, engulfing the noise and scent of this room, panning every color and shape assembled like supercut in her head, praying that someday if she would lose herself, she’d come back here right at this frozen memory and relive the wonderful indecisiveness of adolescence and the chance to say I don’t know without repercussions.

“Sakura to earth?” Naruto’s voice.

“Idiot. It’s earth to Sakura.” Sasuke’s voice.

She blinked fast, returning to the moment that wasn’t finished playing out yet. She quickly brushed her hands on her eyes as if something got into her eyes, hoping they don’t see the small droplets of tears that have formed. “Oh uh, I have a list of prospects, but I’m not quite sure what to take.” The form was still blank actually.

“That’s a usual problem of anyone who’s too good at everything,” Sasuke replied.

“Are you complimenting me?” I wish I was.

“Should I take it back?” He proceeded to gulp down the remnants of his glass.

The monitor suddenly turned off, indicating their time has run out. “Hey guys, for our last term, let’s make the most out of it, all right?” Naruto asked. “I’m so happy we became friends.”

“No hugging please,” Sasuke said, but it was too late. Naruto’s arms were too strong to pull away from so the two allowed him a few seconds of skinship.

Naruto’s words struck a chord in Sakura; it was a resolve she tried to form and disfigure for several months now. Before they could stand up to fix their things, Sakura blurted it out loud before her courage took the best of her.

“For our last term.” She flexed her fingers and curled them up against her palm, placing weight on her lap as she ground her fists onto it. “For our last term, I’m gonna confess to Kakashi.”

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 9

#SCPS #student council president sakura #sasusaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #uzumaki naruto #hatake kakashi #kakasaku #narusaku #anime fanfic #fanfic #sasusaku fanfic

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heyitssmiller · 3 years

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Frosted Windowpanes: Part One

The Christmas Fic is here! Featuring Logan the lumberjack, Leo who owns a diner, and Finn who was just trying to have a quiet, uneventful holiday (lol). This was supposed to be a oneshot, but y’all know I’m too long-winded for that, so it looks like we’ll be having at least one more part for this story!

@donttouchmycarrots Thank you so much for proofreading/encouraging/being such a wonderful, wonderful friend. I don’t think I’d still be writing without you and iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou

@lumosinlove Again, thank you for such wonderful characters! And for creating such a wonderful, welcoming fandom! I never thought I’d post my writing where people could read it, but then I met y’all and here we are! You guys are amazing! Happy Holidays, everyone! <3

Part Two is now up!

It's that time of year When the world falls in love Every song you hear seems to say

- The Christmas Waltz

Piercing, bitter cold greeted Logan as he stepped outside for the first time that day. The kind of cold that made the entire body tense up and the breath hitch. It was a quiet early morning, with a stillness that only freshly-fallen snow could bring. Logan took a second to pull his toque further down over his head as he grabbed the chainsaw by the door before heading out to the truck, passing the sign with red, clean lettering that read Tremblay’s Christmas Trees.

“Took you long enough, sleeping beauty.” His sister, Noelle, teased from the driver’s seat of the beat-up truck that barely started most mornings.

“It’s too early for this.” He grumbled back, sliding into the passenger’s seat as the truck reluctantly spluttered to a start.

“The faster we get done out here, the faster we can go deal with customers.”

“That’s not exactly helping.”

Noelle laughed as she drove back into one of the fields, parking the truck at the far end. “Come on, it’s not that bad. They ask to buy a tree, you help them pick one out, take their money, and strap it to their car. Easy.”

They got out of the truck, grabbed the chainsaw from the back, and headed towards their first tagged tree. Logan grabbed the tree around its trunk to stabilize it while Noelle powered up the chainsaw, putting their conversation on hold. She crouched down to start cutting the base of the tree trunk, creating a notch before starting the back cut. Logan waited until the tree felt unstable before giving the tree a gentle push in the right direction and removing his hands. The tree hit the ground with a thud.

Noelle took that as her cue to continue their conversation. “Don’t pretend to be all grumpy and stoic. I know you like some of our regulars.”

“Some being the key word here.” He replied, grabbing the tree trunk again and beginning to drag it to the truck. Noelle just gave him a look that clearly said I see right through you but didn’t comment as she looked for the next tagged tree.

Logan heaved the Christmas tree into the bed of the truck and shoved it into one corner; he could probably fit one more tree alongside it before he started stacking them. He stood up straight, turning his head to watch the sun rise and peek over the tops of the trees, bringing rays of light and warmth with it.

Leo basked in the warmth coming from the oven as he took out a fresh batch of croissants, a welcome reprieve from the weather outside. He quickly put the next tray of pastries into the oven and transferred the baked croissants onto a plate, where he let them cool just a little before drizzling them with honey. He hummed along to the Christmas music playing on the radio as he worked on getting the diner ready to open in a few hours. He started the gumbo, red beans and rice, and jambalaya, letting them simmer on the stove before whipping up his fried chicken batter and breading so that it was ready whenever he needed it. Next was the cornbread, which was made from scratch and poured into muffin tins to create the perfect individual servings. Coffee was brewed, quiches were placed in the display window, waffle batter was whipped up and sitting in a bowl on the counter.

Leo was arranging croissants into a basket when the back door opened, letting all the cold air in and a small flurry of snow with it.

“Good morning!” Nate called as he came around the corner, shedding his coat and hat. Leo honestly wasn’t sure what he’d do without Nate. Running his own diner was hard – it was even harder when he’d moved to a different country, not knowing anyone there, and kept afloat with barely anything but his optimism and his confidence in his cooking. Nate was the first person he’d hired when business actually picked up, and he’d been there ever since. He had a real knack for cooking and managed to make every person that walked through their doors feel welcomed.

“Headed out to the farm?” Nate asked when he saw the basket of croissants and the large thermos Leo was filling with coffee.

“Yeah.” Leo said, grabbing coffee creamer and sugar and shoving them into his coat pocket after he slipped it on. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nah, I can hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

Leo smiled as he grabbed his hat. “Thanks. There’s croissants in the oven, but they’ll be done as soon as that timer goes off! I’ll be right back, ok?”

Nate gave him a look. “No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Leo agreed with a laugh. “But I’ll be back before morning rush.” He said as he braced himself and opened the door to be greeted by the frigid Canadian winter.

Even after a year and a half, he had a feeling he’d never get used to this weather.

He made a beeline for his car, quickly getting behind the wheel and cranking the heat as high as it would go. He put the car in drive and slowly pulled out onto the road, keeping a firm grip on the wheel and his eyes on the road. He knew he was probably causing a traffic build-up behind him, which made Leo feel a little guilty. He’d driven through hurricanes countless times, but snow? Black ice? He was absolutely terrified of that. So he took his time, eventually turning off the main road and driving until he reached a sign with red lettering and a Christmas tree lot. There were handmade wreaths and garlands, and white Christmas lights strung up over the rows of trees for sale.

Leo put the car in park and grabbed his stuff, breath hitching as he faced the cold winds again. Marius, the head of the Tremblay family, was at the checkout counter, writing something down on a pad of paper. Once he looked up and saw Leo, he smiled broadly. “Hey, Nut!”

“Good morning.” Leo replied, raising the basket and thermos in his hands. “I come bearing gifts. Coffee and croissants.”

“You know you don’t have to do that.” Marius said as he gave Leo a stern look. “I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

Leo shrugged, opening the basket and offering them to the man. “I like doing this. Y’all work hard and have ridiculously long hours. And you work in this weather. I feel like you could use a little warmth.”

“You and your southern manners.” He grabbed a croissant anyways, taking a big bite. “Your favorite’s still out there bringing some trees in.” He said, motioning to one of the groves to the left. Leo could faintly hear the sound of a chainsaw in the distance.

“I don’t have favorites,” Leo protested as he set the thermos and croissants down on the table, even though it was clearly a bald-faced lie. He thought of evergreen eyes and a gorgeous laugh and a smile that left him breathless. He blamed the redness of his cheeks and ears on the cold. “I like all of you equally.”

“Right.” Marius said, dragging out the vowel. He was smiling, though. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you, you know.”

Leo had to force his smile to remain steadfast. Friend. That was all this was ever going to be, no matter how much his heart yearned for something more. He needed to learn to be content with that – it wasn’t fair to Logan otherwise, or to himself for that matter. He could be a good friend and leave it at that. It was still better than not knowing him at all.

“I think I’m the lucky one.” He said, only then remembering the sugar and coffee creamers in his coat pocket. He fished them out and set them on the counter next to the thermos. “I do have to get going, though. I’ve got the breakfast rush to deal with.”

Marius waved him off playfully, grabbing another croissant. “Go on, then. I’ll try to save some for the rest of them.”

Leo laughed at his antics, breath clouding in the air. “I’m holding you to that.”

Marius watched him get in his car and drive off very slowly with a chuckle. Damn southerners. He looked down at the coffee creamers and sugar, knowing Logan was the only one in the family that used them, and started speculating.

He heard the rumbling of the truck as it came in, the back loaded to the brim with trees. Noelle and Logan’s bickering could be heard before the truck’s engine got turned off, which was saying something. Marius grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee. He was going to need it.

“I mean, come on. Back to the Future is clearly the superior 80s movie. It’s definitely better than Top Gun.”

Logan closed his door, staring at his sister with a combination of horror and disbelief. “How dare you. Those aren’t even in the same genre!”

Noelle looked over at Marius right as she was about to start her counterargument and spotted the pastries and coffee. She grinned and abandoned Logan at the back of the truck in order to beat him to the food. One croissant was immediately shoved into her mouth as she grabbed another and then reached for a coffee cup one-handed. Marius snorted and grabbed it from her, filling it with steaming coffee.

She groaned. “Lolo, your friend needs to stop by more often. Fuck, this is good. If I wasn’t in a committed relationship already, I’d ask him to marry me.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Logan said gruffly, but his words were betrayed by a smile. He looked down at the pastries, eyes soft and smile dopy.

Marius knew that look. More importantly, he knew his son. And everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

“Maybe Logan should ask, instead.” He teased, although a part of him was completely genuine.

Logan choked on his first bite of croissant.

“Finn!” June shouted as soon as she flung the door open, throwing herself into his arms. Finn laughed and hugged her back. Two seconds into his visit and he knew this was going to be the best way to spend the week before Christmas. He hadn’t seen June since they graduated college and, even though they kept in touch, it wasn’t the same.

“Four years is way too long.” He said as she let go. “Let’s not go that long without seeing each other again, ok?”

“Deal.” She replied, grabbing his bag for him and leading the way inside. The apartment was warm and cozy and lived in – there were books on the coffee table and a large pile of mail on the counter and a few stray dishes in the sink.

Finn loved it.

Heather, June’s fiancée, smiled in greeting and stuck her hand out to shake. “You must be Finn.”

He had originally thought it might be a little bit awkward, meeting his ex-girlfriend’s fiancée, but Heather seemed kind and welcoming and unperturbed about the whole thing. He shook her hand and returned the smile. “Heather. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh god.” She laughed, shooting June a look. June just winked and leaned over to check whatever food was in the oven.

“All good things.” Finn promised, letting Heather lead him to the guest room. It was as happy and welcoming as the rest of the apartment. As soon as they were out of earshot, he continued, “I’m really happy for you guys. She’s happier than I've ever seen her.”

“So am I.” Heather said wistfully as Finn set his bag down. “Bathroom’s through that door if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

When he rejoined the group in the living room, he noticed something: a distinct lack of Christmas decorations. June used to love decorating her college dorm room for the holidays – she went all out with little things she bought at the Dollar Tree and a miniature Christmas tree from Walmart. They used to get the tree together every year. It was strange that she hadn’t continued the tradition.

“No tree?” He asked June, surprised. She shrugged and scooted over on the couch to make room for all three of them.

“Haven’t had the time. I’ve been so busy at work and Heather’s been traveling for conferences. It’s not the same when you have to decorate by yourself.”

Finn hummed understandingly. He knew the feeling. “Why don’t we go get one now? Do you think some places are still open this late?”

Heather and June looked at each other, seeming to have a telepathic conversation. Finn watched on in amusement as they communicated with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes and shrugs until they apparently made up their minds.

“Tremblay’s is probably still open. They’ve got the best trees, anyways.” June explained, turning to look at Finn. “But I’ve got to stay here and make sure our dinner doesn’t burn.”

“And I’ve got to stay here and supervise June while she uses the oven.” Heather added. Finn laughed, remembering too many times June had burned herself while using the rickety old oven from the 1970s that still lived on in their dorm building.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Finn teased and ruffled June’s hair. She just rolled her eyes and didn’t even bother trying to smooth it out again. Ruffling hair was one of Finn’s main ways of showing affection – she knew it would just get messed up again. Finn fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his navigation app. “I can go get the tree, if you want. You said the place was called Tremblay’s?”

“Finn, you really don’t have to-”

“No, I want to!” He cut in, standing up from the couch to grab his coat. “I didn’t bring presents for you guys because I’m so bad at gift-giving, so this can be my Christmas present.”

Heather hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” She asked, glancing at June again. “We can always go out and get a tree tomorrow.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be back soon, and with a tree!” Finn said as he reached the door, turned to give a cheery salute, and headed out to his car.

After a frankly terrifying drive through narrow back roads and potential ice hazards, Finn followed his app to a little tree farm off of the main road. There weren’t many cars there, thankfully, and it still looked open. The rows of white lights hanging above the trees were all lit and glowing, snow was falling at a slow, sleepy pace. It looked perfect, like something out of a dream.

And that was before Finn saw him.

The man working the front counter.

Finn raked his gaze over the man and swooned. Wavy brown hair, bright eyes, shoulders and arms so broad and built that it seemed like they were about to rip the plaid shirt he was wearing. With a nametag that stated Logan, he seemed like a rugged, Canadian, lumberjack dreamboat. Finn swallowed, making his way to the counter and the absolute vision behind it while he focused on not tripping over his own two feet.

“Hi,” Finn managed, trying not to get lost in evergreen eyes. “I’d like to buy a tree, please.”

“What type of tree would you like?”

Oh, the accent.

Finn was screwed.

“Uh…” Finn trailed off, looking at Logan and struggling to find words. “A Christmas tree?”

“Spruce, pine, or fir?” When Finn’s expression turned more confused, Logan smiled in exasperated, awed delight. Who drove all this way for a tree and had no clue what they were looking for? Most people at least had some idea. But not this one, apparently. Those big, Bambi eyes were lost and absolutely adorable.

“Do you have a size you’re looking for?” Logan asked, receiving a more perplexed look.

This was too funny. “Do you know anything about what kind of tree you want?”

“A pretty one? But not too expensive. Or too tall. Or heavy – I’ve got to get it up a huge flight of stairs.”

Logan couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer. He leaned forwards against the counter and laughed, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders shaking. Finn watched with a smile of his own, taking in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the contagious nature of his laugh. He felt like this – this right here – was the only thing he wanted to do for the next several hours, especially if he was the reason for the laughter. He thought of that song he could never remember the name of but heard a lot on Tiktok that said, “oh no, I think I’m catching feelings” and never related to a song more in his entire life.

“Ok,” Logan said when he’d finally caught his breath. “Ok, I’m going to pick one out for you, how’s that sound…?”

“Finn.” The redhead supplied with a laugh of his own. “And please. I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Clearly.” Logan stepped around the counter and led him towards a group of trees. “These are Douglas Firs. They last a long time, smell great, and they don’t take a lot of trimming or maintenance. They’re also pretty cheap since they’re so common.”

Finn looked from the trees to another group of trees a little ways off. “They all look the same.”

“Who’s the expert here?” Logan teased, shooting him a look over his shoulder as he walked from one tree to the next. Finn trailed after him eagerly, watching calloused, muscular hands trail along the needles of the trees.

“We can go look at the Fraser Firs, if you want, but I really think one of these is your best bet.” Logan continued, stopping in front of a mid-sized tree. “How about this one?”

Finn looked at it, then back at Logan. “What do you think? Since I clearly don’t know anything about trees.” That drew another smile from Logan, which made Finn vow to himself to make the brunet smile like that again.

Logan dragged the tree out from the rest of the group and looked it over. “I think it’s a good one. Good shape, healthy. I sure know how to pick ‘em, eh?”

Eh. How adorably Canadian.

“Sounds good. It’s not even for me, so my input doesn’t really matter a whole lot.”

Logan sent him a confused look. “So you went out at nine o’clock at night to get a Christmas tree, and it’s not for you?”

“I don’t even live in this country.”

“What?”

“I’m visiting friends that live here, and they’ve been traveling or too busy to decorate like they normally do, so I decided I’d get the ball rolling and find them a Christmas tree.” Finn shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Not only was he stunning, he was thoughtful to boot.

Logan clearly had a type.

“That’s nice of you.” He removed the tree from its stand and started lugging it to the counter, watching the redhead trail behind him yet again out of the corner of his eye. When he reached his destination, he set the tree down and found Finn staring at him with a look of awe on his face. He bit back a smile. “How long are you staying?”

Finn was silent for a second, as if in a trance, then snapped out of it with a little shake of his head. “Huh?”

That smile he was holding back broke through. “How long are you staying in town?”

“Oh. Just for the week, then I’m off to spend Christmas with my family back home in New York.”

“A New Yorker, huh?” Logan asked as he bagged the tree up, attempting to do the accent and making Finn laugh. “This must be quite the change of pace for you.”

“You have no idea.”

Finn’s stomach growled, making his eyes widen and his cheeks burn in embarrassment. It must’ve been loud enough for Logan to hear because he turned back around to face Finn and quirked an eyebrow. “Hungry?” He asked, then told Finn the price of the tree. Finn handed his card over.

“Yeah. Haven’t had dinner yet.”

“I, uh, I know a place.” Logan said, playing with Finn’s credit card before meeting his eyes and quickly adding, “If you’re interested. I haven’t had dinner either.”

Finn grinned, not even trying to hide his excitement. The only thing he’d wanted when he left June and Heather’s apartment was a tree. Now he had a potential date with this gorgeous, witty guy? Yes please. “Yeah?”

Logan shared his smile, leaning forward against the counter and looking up at him through dark, dark eyelashes. Finn’s heart fluttered. “Yeah. Sounds fun to me.”

“Great.” Finn said, unsure of what else to say and suddenly feeling a little awkward. Was he supposed to wait for him to finish his shift? Were they driving together? Where was this restaurant?

He needed to text June.

Shit. She had been making dinner when he left. But he’d already agreed to dinner with Logan. But it would be so rude to not spend time with his hosts. But he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t go on this date.

He pulled out his phone as Logan ran his card through the system to text June.

To June: Sooooo there might be a change of plans. Some hot guy is my acting tour guide for the night and I won’t be making it home for dinner. But I promise I have a tree and I will be back eventually.

It only took June a few seconds to respond.

From June: Damn. You go, Finn.

He laughed under his breath, then pocketed his phone. When he looked up, Logan was looking at him and holding his card out. Finn grabbed it and shoved it into his wallet, which he pocketed. “Ready to go?” Logan asked, grabbing the trunk of the tree and preparing to drag it again. “I can drive, if you want. We’ll strap the tree to the top of your car and then head out.”

“Works for me. Do you need help with that?” Finn motioned to the tree. Not that he minded the view – quite the contrary – but he felt bad not doing anything.

“Want to grab the netting towards the top? We can carry it instead of dragging it.”

Finn grabbed the netting and followed Logan’s lead as they both lifted the tree and started carrying it out to Finn’s car, Finn giving directions as they went. Getting the tree to the top of the rental car was a struggle, but they managed and strapped it down.

They hurried to Logan’s car and shut out the cold as quickly as they could. Logan started the rickety old pickup truck that smelled strongly of Christmas trees and took off down the road at a much faster pace than Finn would ever dare to drive these roads.

“I have a feeling you’re going to love this place.” Logan said as he turned right onto the main road, accelerating a bit more. “Pretty much everyone does. It’s not very Canadian, but you can’t beat the food.”

“What defines a restaurant as Canadian?” Finn mused, looking over at the driver. “Maple syrup? Poutine?”

“Watch it.” There was no heat in Logan’s voice, so Finn didn’t take it to heart. They slowed down and pulled into a parking lot of a diner simply called Leo’s. The outside looked a little rundown, which made Finn a little apprehensive, but the windows were all fogged up from the temperature difference between inside and outside, which was always promising.

Logan turned the car off and shot Finn an excited grin. “Ready?”

Finn couldn’t tell if he was excited for dinner with him or just the food. Hopefully it was both.

The inside of the diner was… eclectic. The walls were a faint yellow, but there were splashes of deep purple, green, and gold in the decorations on the walls. Mardis Gras, Finn realized as he spotted some masks hanging on the wall. The food smelled amazing – warm and spicy and savory. Behind the baked goods on display counter stood a young kid with a cleaning spray and a rag, wiping down the counters. He looked up at the bell that signaled the door opening and instantly recognized Logan. He sent them a smile before turning his head and shouting towards the direction of the kitchen, “Leo!”

There was a loud clang, followed by a muffled curse. “Be there in a jiffy!”

Finn looked to Logan in confusion. “Was that a southern accent? Like American south?”

“Leo.” Was all Logan said, a happy smile on his face.

“You guys can go ahead and sit down,” The kid at the counter said. “I’ll bring some menus.”

“Thanks, Nate.” Logan led the way towards a booth in the front corner of the dining area and sat down facing the door. Finn sat opposite him, accepting a menu with thanks. The menu consisted of southern U.S. staples – biscuits and gravy, grits, red beans and rice, fried chicken, etouffee, jambalaya, po’boys, fried catfish, cornbread, the list went on.

“So is this guy from Louisiana?”

Logan wasn’t even looking at the menu, he was watching every nuance of Finn’s expressions as he took everything in. “New Orleans, born and raised.”

“How the hell did he end up here?”

“He had an uncle who owned this place and left it to Leo when he died. Originally he was just going to fix it up and sell it before going back home, but two months led to a year and he’s still here. Doesn’t seem to be planning on going anywhere else for a while, either.” Logan suddenly perked up, looking at something over Finn’s shoulder. “Here he comes.”

Finn swiveled in his seat and stopped dead in his tracks.

Tall.

They were both greeted by a dimpled smile as Leo approached their table, flour or powdered sugar – Finn wasn’t sure which one – all over his apron and a dusting of it in his fluffy blond hair.

“Hey, Logan. See you’ve brought company!” His accent dragged sweet and slow like molasses, so very out of place this far north. But it was refreshing, like a breath of fresh air or the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a week of rain. As he got closer, Finn realized what he’d thought to be flour in his hair was actually a gray streak. And wow, were his eyes blue.

How was everyone here so attractive?

“Finn, meet Leo. Leo, this is Finn.” Logan said, smile never leaving his face as he looked between the two. “He’s new here.”

Leo arched an eyebrow. “And you brought him here?”

“You do have the best pie in town.”

That got another sunny smile from Leo. “Damn right I do. But dinner first. Can’t go on spoilin’ your dinner with pie.” Those blue eyes turned to Finn, causing his breath to hitch just a little. “What’ll you have, sugar?”

Finn simply wasn’t going to survive this night. Was this a dream? That would explain all the attractive guys – the probabilities of something like this happening in real life were slim to none. He pinched his arm harshly. Not a dream.

What the fuck?

Finn realized he still hadn’t answered and was just staring at the blond. He cleared his throat and quickly averted his gaze to the menu, not really reading anything but grateful for something else to look at besides the two guys in front of him. “Um… what would you recommend?” He finally asked, grateful that he could get his vocal cords to actually work.

Leo hummed, thinking about it. “Personally I really like the muffuletta, if you’re looking for a sandwich. Definitely the gumbo if you’re in the mood for soup. I do make a mean fried catfish, too.”

Finn wasn’t sure what exactly a muffuletta was, but he ordered it. Logan got his usual, whatever that meant. Leo wrote down their orders and gave them one last smile before retreating to the kitchen. They both watched him go, then Finn whipped back around to face Logan.

“Is he real?”

Logan just laughed, leaning back in his seat. Finn panicked for half a second, terrified that what he’d said was the worst possible thought to voice on what was potentially a first date. But Logan didn’t seem to mind. He just looked back at the kitchen with a soft smile Finn hadn’t seen before.

“You know, I ask myself that a lot.” He said quietly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. And Finn finally understood.

He was in love with Leo.

The sound of a record scratching filled Finn’s head.

Wait.

That didn’t make any sense… because Finn was ninety-five percent sure that Logan had been flirting with him all night.

Hadn’t he?

They made small talk while they waited for their food, and Logan was pleasantly surprised at how… easy it was. He normally didn’t like small talk and didn’t share personal stories with strangers, but here Finn was, pulling stories out of him that he normally wouldn’t share on a first date.

Was this a date? Logan couldn’t decide if he wanted it to be one or not. One hand, this was definitely the most fun he’d had in weeks. On the other hand, Leo. He sent a glance towards the kitchen window before focusing back on Finn’s story about one of the parties he and June went to back in college. There was lots of alcohol, mattresses, and a roof involved. Finn’s storytelling included a myriad of different expressions, all of which Logan found endearing. The wrinkle of his nose when he talked about drunk frat boy antics, the way he got all soft whenever he talked about June, the laughter lines around his eyes when he told a funny anecdote.

How was it possible to be so cute and yet so hot at the same time?

And how had he met two guys who fit into both of those categories?

Nate brought their food out while Logan was in the middle of a story about the time he’d found a squirrel in one of their trees and got attacked when he tried to relocate the thing when Nate came back with the food. Finn had the muffuletta, which was apparently meat and cheese and some sort of olive spread or something – Finn had no idea, but it looked and smelled amazing. Logan had a bowl of red beans and rice in front of him, but he was waiting to see Finn’s reaction to the food before starting his own.

Finn took a bite of the sandwich, then his eyes widened almost comically. “Oh my god.”

“I know.” Logan said, getting a spoonful of red beans and rice.

“Where has this been all my life?”

“Just wait until you try the pie.”

Finn didn’t speak again, he just ate. The food clearly took precedence over any possible conversations. Logan couldn’t help but agree. Finn ate like a man who hadn’t seen food in a week, finishing the sandwich in record time. He leaned back in his seat when he was done, letting out a happy, content sigh. “Holy shit. Is everything on the menu that good?”

“Pretty much.”

“And he hasn’t been on the Food Network yet?”

Logan grinned. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“We should tell them to get up here and try this food.”

“Y’all, I don’t have time for the Food Network.” Finn jumped a little as Leo reappeared with two slices of pie. “I appreciate it, though. You liked it, huh?”

Finn looked up at him. “I kind of want to come back every day I’m here.” And he meant it. He wouldn’t be coming back just for the food, though.

“Well, I definitely won’t stop you.” Leo said with a dimpled smile. Finn barely held in a dreamy sigh.

Dimples.

“Why don’t you join us?” Finn asked, scooting over to make room for the blond. But Leo just shook his head with a rueful smile.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got twelve pies that need to be made.”

“Twelve?” Finn asked in mild horror. “When do you sleep?”

“The chocolate crème pies are in high demand, especially around the holidays. But it’s fine, I don’t mind it. I’m just glad I've got business.” Leo seemed to be ignoring the sleep question, which was never a good sign.

“You look tired.” Logan noted, face muddled with concern.

Leo laughed softly, but didn’t seem to take offense. “Thanks a lot, darlin’.”

Logan broke eye contact and pushed the residual whipped cream around on his plate. Finn hadn’t even realized he’d started eating, but he quickly followed suit and fuck, was that good.

“I just meant you need to take care of yourself, that’s all.” Logan mumbled into his plate without looking up, almost as if he was afraid to see the cook’s response.

“Says the guy who works even longer hours than I do.” Leo teased, causing Logan to roll his eyes.

“That’s because it’s almost Christmas and I work at a Christmas tree farm. It’s only temporary. We’ll be back to normal by the end of the week.”

“Well, good. You deserve to sleep in for once.” Leo said, taking a step back towards the kitchen. “But I really do have to go. Those pies won’t make themselves.”

“Do you want help?” Finn asked hopefully, He honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night than baking with these two. Being given instructions in a thick southern drawl, helping Logan make pie filling, trading stories (and maybe kisses) while they waited for the pies to be done.

But Leo quickly dashed his dreams. “That’s sweet, honey, but I think I’ll be faster on my own. I’ve got a system that makes it pretty efficient. And I don’t give out my recipes to just anyone, you know.”

Oh, but I’d love to be someone to you.

Logan also looked disappointed. “We should get going, then. Don’t want to keep distracting you.”

“At least you’re a welcome distraction.” Leo said with a wink before he turned and disappeared into the kitchen. He let the door close behind him before backing up to lean against it, tilting his head back to rest against the wood and closing his eyes. The happy façade dropped in an instant.

Because Logan was out there, on a date with a guy. A handsome, kind, funny guy who would have absolutely no trouble sweeping Logan off his feet.

And that guy wasn’t Leo.

Finn flopped dramatically onto the couch back at June’s apartment, muffling a scream into a poor, unsuspecting pillow. June looked up from her book with a laugh. “Well hello to you, too.”

“I’m in love.”

“Oh?” Heather asked from her spot cuddled up next to June.

Finn turned his head sideways to open one eye and look at the two of them. “With a lumberjack and a cook.”

“Ah,” June said knowingly as she dog-eared the page she was on and closed the book. “Beware the lumberjacks. They’re known to be irresistible. Alright then, which Tremblay was it?”

Finn cocked his head. “What?”

Heather smiled as June tilted her head back and let her run her fingers through dark brown curls. They were so cute it was almost sickening. “There’s four of them: three sisters and a brother. Which one did you fall for?”

Finn couldn’t have held back the smile that crossed his face even if he tried. “Logan.”

June groaned. “I get it. Holy shit, those eyes.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know he cooked, though.”

“No, the cook was another guy.” Finn sighed as he twisted to lay on his back and stare wistfully up at the ceiling. “Leo.”

“The southern one with the diner?”

“That’s the one.”

“Damn, O’Hara. You do know-”

“They’re head-over-heels in love with each other? Yeah, I got that.” Finn stretched his legs out to rest on June’s lap. “But I’m also pretty sure that was a date. And that Logan was flirting with me.” He sighed again, covering his eyes with his arm. “I’m doomed.”

“Always so dramatic.” June teased. “Just date both of them.”

Finn froze, his mind going completely blank. “What?”

“Date both of them.” She repeated, unfazed. “Polyamorous relationships are a thing, you know. Who says you can’t date both of them?”

Finn moved his arm away from his face to stare at her. “Huh.” He finally said, mind kicking back into gear. That sounded… perfect, actually. Only a few hitches. Did Leo even like him? They’d barely talked to each other. Finn could see Logan being ok with the whole dating two people thing, seeing that he was flirting with both of them, but what would Leo think? And the other hitch. “I’m only for a week, though.”

“Then you’d better act fast, lover boy.”

“I’ve got a question.” Heather piped up.

Finn looked at her and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to ask her question.

“Where’s the tree?”

He could probably see it from their front window if he bothered to stand up, still strapped to his rental car. “Shit.”

#lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #christmas au #frosted windowpanes

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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Holy shit, I’ve read so much of your work without knowing who you are— on both Tumblr and AO3. Well, I’m very glad I followed a link to your profile because now I can tell you I love your work!! And I’ll finally be able to thank you for it!

You are far too sweet. Usually I tend to stick to a corner of fandom and not venture far so I’m glad you have followed a link to my profile :D There’s some really exciting Big Bang and Reverse Big Bang pieces coming on AO3 soon and I like putting short ficlets on here. And this one is especially for you!

Winters at Kaer Morhen were tough. Lambert was always to one to loudly grumble about how terrible it was. Not just the memories that haunted the long hallways and empty rooms, there were other things that made winters awful. Four witchers were locked together high up in the mountains when they were used to roaming, being solitary and dictating their own schedule. The sudden change was a culture shock and often resulted in growling disagreements for weeks on end. Usually, they re-learned how to coexist and have company again just in time to leave for the year, only to rinse and repeat the pattern. It didn’t get easier as the years went on.

If that had been the only problem, maybe winters wouldn’t have been so bad. Alas, there was more at play. Bitterly cold nights and only marginally less cool days packed with physical labour took their toll. But they needed to work, to chop wood, hunt and collect herbs. An idle witcher was a bored witcher and those were dangerous. Plus, if they were busy then there was no time to argue outside of training which they had to do to keep in shape. The worst though was the pain. Old injuries and aches were made worse by the cold. But there was nowhere else safe to winter. If people saw them at their weakest, when the cold bit through scars and sank its teeth cruelly into long since healed injuries, they wouldn’t trust a witcher ever again. Part of a witcher’s ability to get paid was in the myth that they were untiring, immune to such human things like aches and pains. So it was safer to hide away for the worst of winter, to suffer with those who knew what it was like.

In the hidden corners of Kaer Morhen, no human could see when Lambert’s knee gave way from the time a pegasus kicked him. Or the consequent hip problems he’d developed thanks to the knee healing badly. Eskel would help pick him up from the floor and settle him by the fire without a word. There was no room for sympathy in their world but they could still be compassionate. In turn, Vesemir would cook stews and soft foods on the days Eskel’s jaw seized up and he could barely open his mouth for more than a drink. And Lambert would take Geralt’s wood chopping duties on the days his elbow couldn’t bear the weight of an axe. There was a reason Vesemir stayed at Kaer Morhen almost year round. The older a witcher got, the more injuries they lived with and winters were more difficult. He knew that Geralt and Eskel were starting to feel their years when they arrived back sooner and left later, trying to avoid the trip up and down the mountain when riddled with so many aches and pains.

The letter from Lambert one year was both disappointing and a relief. He wasn’t returning for winter that year, something about having an invitation in the south. That year, winters were much quieter without his constant bitching. Instead, the other three suffered in silence which was almost worse. There was no snapping and snarling, the old keep was plenty big enough that they could avoid each other and nurse their hurts in absolute privacy. It was the loneliest year.

On the Path, it was pure chance that Eskel bumped into Lambert who looked much better than expected. He even managed to smile at Eskel.

“Come with me next winter, I’ll show you something amazing.”

The offer was one that caught Eskel off guard. Never before had Lambert been one to share, hoarding his stash of soothing creams and warm water skeins as if his life depended on it. Such an offer was made ever more curious when a cat witcher sauntered out of the woods, looking rather pleased with himself. He gave Eskel a once over and grinned.

“We’ve got room for you, big guy, bring the rest of your pack too.”

That winter, it was just Eskel and Vesemir at Kaer Morhen. They’d heard from Geralt to say he was going with Lambert and taking Jaskier with him too. The winds howled through Kaer Morhen and Eskel’s teeth chattered even as the scars on his face prickled from being so close to the fire.

In the spring, Geralt was at the bottom of the mountain looking rested and healthy. A bard was by his side looking tanned and spoiled.

“Meet me by the Theodula pass at the end of the year. We’re bringing Vesemir too.”

The year was harsh, new injuries, a badly set shoulder that Eskel had trouble with in the spring meant he was dreading winter. When it came time to decide which direction to turn, Eskel faced the north, he couldn’t risk the chance of Vesemir spending the year alone even if they weren’t much company for each other over the cold months. Dutifully, Eskel headed towards Kaer Morhen. At the bottom of the mountain, a vaguely familiar figure greeted him.

“Lambert and Geralt owe me. You need to head south, Wolf.” It was the cat witcher. “Vesemir is already half way there, Geralt had Jaskier sweet talk him into finally abandoning the old crumbling tomb.”

Without much choice, Eskel turned Scorpion around and Aiden accompanied him. The further south they headed, the warmer the weather got. They passed through Aedirn and Lyria into Sodden and Toussaint. Not that they stopped there which surprised Eskel, Geralt had always daydreamed about the place. Instead they carried on to Geso, Maecht, Etolia before entering Vicovaro. There, Aiden seemed perfectly at home, stripping out of his armour in the sweltering heat. A little more modest, Eskel allowed himself to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. They approached a sprawling mansion and Aiden hopped off his horse.

“Honeys we’re home!” he hollered. Eskel watched as the door opened and Lambert bounded out, seemingly full of energy. Behind him was another man, following with a little more dignity.

“Welcome home,” the man greeted Aiden with a kiss that was easy with well established familiarity. Lambert pulled Aiden in too with zero care for what was considered polite. Ignoring the two, the man turned to Eskel. “Welcome, I’m Cahir. You’re welcome to spend the the season here. From what I heard, Kaer Morhen hasn’t been the best of places to rest after a tough year.”

Understatement of the century, Eskel thought. He didn’t have much choice but to accept the seeming generosity of a stranger. One that Lambert apparently bedded, as did Aiden. And Geralt trusted too at that. From the doorway, Vesemir appeared, looking a little out of place still and Eskel could well and truly appreciate that.

As the weeks passed, it became easier. There was no cold, no worries about needing food and supplies in a hostile environment. Even the aches and pains that plagued them during the winter seemed to be held at bay. It was winter but Eskel could enjoy a crisp apple without his jaw locking, could chew even tougher meats and not freeze with agony of each move. The novelty of it put him in a good mood and, looking around, he could see the others in a similar state.

“From now on,” Cahir said one evening, a glass of wine in hand and Aiden’s feet in his lap, “I want you all to consider this your safe haven. Winter here and stay here all you wish. If you need a place to recuperate, you’ll always be protected here.”

It was a most generous offer, one that Eskel didn’t think could be a serious one. Nobody wanted witchers around, especially not if they weren’t on contract. Yet there was Cahir, seemingly comfortable with not only two witchers in his bed but three others in his home too. As time passed, Eskel learned that maybe he had been a little wrong. It was a serious offer for sure. And Cahir’s bed was big enough not for just two, but three witchers. It was something Cahir, Lambert and Aiden took great joy in proving to Eskel over and over again.

#geraskier #eskel/lambert/cahir/aiden #aiden/cahir/lambert #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #aiden #vesemir #Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach #chronic injuries and pain #long post #tldr: witchers suffer in the cold

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

“There's somethin' in the wind, I can feel it blowin' in: It's comin' in softly on the wings of a bomb... There's somethin' in the wind, I can feel it blowin' in: It's comin' in hotly and it's comin' in strong... Lately I've been thinkin' it's just someone else's job to care -- Who am I to sympathize when no one gave a damn? I've been thinkin' it's just someone else's job to care -- Who am I to wanna try? But change is a powerful thing...people are powerful beings...”

~“Change” by Lana Del Rey

x~x~x~x

I was totally inspired by this rockin’ coat and decided to draw some Reincarnation-AU!Batticus, specifically during the events of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince. (Grim’s look is very slightly based on this -- because Atticus @cursebreakerfarrier is the OG Academia fashion icon. 🥰💙)

At this point in Bat and Grim’s second lives as Robert Bellamy and Atticus Lestrange, the two seventh-year Ravenclaws (and, the following year, Ravenclaw alumni) have solved the mystery of their past lives and are now roommates sharing a dinky little flat in London. Atticus has miraculously landed an internship at the Ministry of Magic, specifically in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, while Robert’s an apprentice at the apothecary in Diagon Alley over winter, spring, and summer break to earn enough money to help pay the rent.

When Cedric Diggory died in their sixth year, though, Bat was thoroughly unconvinced by the Ministry’s cover-story that it was a tragic “accident,” and -- upon colliding with Dolores Umbridge at Hogwarts in their seventh year -- was pretty soundly convinced that the Ministry was covering things up. Grim, for his part, had his misgivings about the Ministry’s version of events, but being the Lawful Good person he was, he had a bit more trouble expressing those doubts, especially now that he was on the way to joining the Department of Magical Law Enforcement himself. Sensing Grim’s inner conflict on the matter and not wanting to put him in the position where he’d have to choose between his friendship with Bat or his family and future, Bat made the decision to not tell Grim when he -- despite his intense personal dislike and distrust of Albus Dumbledore -- nonetheless chose to join the Order of the Phoenix. After all, in all of his lives, Bat is a soldier, and he couldn’t in good conscience not fight back against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, just as he did against Grindelwald so many years ago.

From the start, however, Grim got a bad feeling Bat was keeping something from him. In early January 1996, while on an assignment with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Grim ended up coming across Bat, who was likewise on an assignment for the Order in hooded black robes with white trim not unlike his old British Redcoat uniform and a high turtleneck-like collar that hid the lower half of his face. Even if he was very anxious and didn’t understand what was going on at all, Grim covertly covered Bat as he fled before the Aurors could discover him and -- upon rushing back to their apartment -- helped Bat with the injuries he’d sustained. It was only that that Bat finally came clean to Grim about his alignment...and he also, having just been made aware of the Azkaban break-out, offered to leave their apartment to Grim and move out.

“My alignment with Potter and Dumbledore already endangers your livelihood. But if your family’s out on the streets now, then that means Voldemort has gotten strong enough that soon he’ll be bold enough to act out in the open. And once that happens...well, then it’ll be open season on Muggle-borns like me. Your ancestry protects you, Grim -- your family name would protect you from people like Him. Associating with mine would put you in the cross-hairs -- ”

But, of course, Grim stubbornly shot this down.

“You seem to have forgotten that in our previous lives, you already tried to ward me off from helping you once by talking about how dangerous it’d be for me. And trust me, you’re no more persuasive in making me abandon you now than you were then.”

“This is different -- ”

“Perhaps it is, but the result is not. I am not going to kick you out -- nor am I leaving you.”

“Grim, if things get worse, I won’t be able to protect you from the Death Eaters -- ”

“ -- then it’s a good thing I’m more than capable of protecting myself!”

“I know you are -- but they’ll try to force you to join them or die, Grim. At least if you distance yourself from me, you might be able to slip under the radar -- not draw so much attention. If you’re with me, then they’ll target you just as fiercely.”

“Well, then, we’ll just have to fight them off together, won’t we?”

“Grim...”

“Bat...I already lost you once. I do not intend to lose you again. ...You...mean far too much to me. You must know that.”

“...I do. ...I do know...Atticus.”

The occasion was one of the few times Bat has ever been serious enough to call Grim by his full name. It was also followed by one of the two men’s very first kisses, and one of their deepest.

As the War went on, Bat would continue to go on covert, mysterious missions for the Order, often coming back to his and Grim’s apartment nursing wounds that Grim would help him patch up with healing potions and spells. One particular injury, which left an array of terrible vein scars down Bat’s arm, had been the result of a Dark curse chucked at him by Atticus’s relative Rodolphus Lestrange. Meanwhile Atticus would do his best to help Bat how he could through his work at the Ministry, both under Fudge and even more so under Rufus Scrimgeour. Although one worked within the law and the other often worked outside of it, they both had the same goal in mind -- to fight evil however they could, in the hopes of circumventing the Death Eaters’ growing thirst for control over the Wizarding World.

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #golden era #reincarnation!au #bartholomew varney #atticus grimsley #other people's mcs #my art #voldemort #order of the phoenix #albus dumbledore #cornelius fudge #rufus scrimgeour

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

Text

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part one

I know, I know. I just finished a story and I started another one and now I’m posting a different one...I’m insane. But I’ve had this idea for a while, just never wrote it down until last night! Enjoy xx.

Also! It’s Bucky x Reader, but it might read as Steve x Reader. I promise it’s platonic!Steve x Reader, though. Steve has no intentions of stealing Bucky’s girl. He knows Bucky would haunt his ass if he did (this is set in The Winter Soldier movie, so Steve still thinks Buck is dead).

Warnings: just some general sadness and angst, mentions of depression, it’s angst city honestly it made me cry

You watch as the old footage replays of Bucky’s wide grin. The only kind of smile that his best friend, Steve Rogers, could draw out of him with one single look or gesture. The only kind of expression that knocks the wind out of your lungs and sends chills down your spine.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable both on schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country.”

You hastily wipe a tear away. It’s been months since you put the pieces together. Months since your parents told you that they had known for years. Months since they told you they didn’t want to tell you because they didn’t want to see you hurt.

Months since you’ve realized the man you keep seeing in your dreams is Bucky Barnes.

At first, you thought you were crazy. People dream of faces they’ve never seen all the time, right?

Soulmates are said to be rare, but not nonexistent. You’ve always thought they were real, just that the world was so cynical to really talk about them. The idea that there is one person out there whose soul is connected to yours is exactly the kind of thing that would send this generation walking the other direction with their middle fingers raised and eyes rolling in disbelief.

Then you started remembering your dreams. You started to see his face more clearly. Granted, you had no idea it was Bucky that you were seeing.

You came to the Smithsonian almost half a year ago now with your best friend. She realized you both had never been before, and she basically said fuck it one day and took you with her. Her exact words were, “How have we gone to college here for a year and a half and we’ve never been to the damn Smithsonian?”

You weren’t expecting to meet your soulmate that day.

Of course, you use the word “meet” very loosely. Your soulmate isn’t alive, which explains the emptiness you feel on a daily. It’s been said that soulmates can feel what the other is feeling. Often times it’s muted, but recognizable.

You got to see his face, to finally realize that it’s Bucky. The Bucky Barnes.

It sounds ridiculous — and God, you love your best friend for not calling you pathetic that day — but when you walked up to the very exhibit you’re standing at right now and saw Bucky’s smile...you knew. Instantly, you knew. And it moved you to tears.

It was like your soul had finally found her counterpart, here, grinning like a madman next to his best friend, all the way back in the 1940s.

Your parents knew simply because of things you would say, offhandedly, without even realizing it.

Your interest in WWII caught their attention, but it surprisingly didn’t last long -- only from about the time that you turned thirteen to a few months before your fourteenth birthday. You would’ve found Bucky a lot sooner had your interest in the war itself lasted much longer, but it didn’t. You wonder now if you subconsciously knew it was Bucky, but steered yourself away from it in an attempt to save yourself the heartache at such a young age.

Your taste in music has been the constant that they didn’t quite understand at first. You listen to modern tunes, sure, but you’re a sucker for the music of the 40s. Even clothes. You sometimes found yourself leaning toward the styles of the 40s in subtle ways, not realizing it.

The true confirmation of their suspicions came, though, when your mom said she heard you say Bucky’s name. The first time was on a road trip. You had fallen asleep in the car. You were sixteen at the time. You were dreaming and you have no recollection of ever saying his name. You weren’t even aware that you said his name while you were dreaming until she confessed that day.

You haven’t told anyone about it. Your best friend doesn’t even know. She still believes you got too excited about seeing Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, that’s all. She doesn’t know the real reason, the real aching pain that you feel every day.

The only thing that eases the ache is this. Hogging this exhibit. Watching the footage over and over again. Watching Bucky’s smile and being unable to hold back your own, despite your tears.

You know the staff must think you’re delusional. Somehow you haven’t cared enough to entertain the thought. But you have seen the security guard give you strange looks when you walk in almost every other day.

It used to not be this bad. You came every day for a few weeks, but then you were able to calm down to once a week, sometimes twice a month, if you were too busy with school to think about Bucky much.

But lately, something has changed. You don’t know what it is. You still feel the emptiness, but something is different. It’s...troubled. That’s all your mind can come up with.

It makes no sense, though. How can Bucky be troubled? He’s dead. You believe in ghosts and all -- you’ve never been given a reason not to -- but you’ve heard more stories than you can count from people whose soulmate has died. They all say the same thing. They felt it when it happened. Because it was like a switch was flipped. They were feeling everything one moment, and the next, it was all gone. Empty.

Empty. How you’ve felt since the day you were born. You’ve been to therapists and they all told you the same thing. It’s just your thinking. Change your thinking processes. You’ve never slipped or spiraled far enough for it to be classified as a depressive disorder or anything else, just...empty.

When you found out about having a soulmate, and even more so when you found out it was Bucky, you still felt empty, but not as much. It was like everything suddenly made perfect sense. The emptiness had a purpose, a reason for existing.

When you see him smile, everything makes perfect sense. You feel like you have a reason to exist.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You slowly drag your eyes away from Bucky, preparing yourself to deal with a disgruntled museum-goer or staff member complaining about how long you’ve been standing here. But that’s not who you see.

He’s wearing a hat, but the resemblance is unmistakable.

Quickly, you glance at the video before looking back to the person beside you. That’s him. Steve Rogers.

“Hi,” you say hesitantly, quietly. He’s obviously hiding, which he is right to do. If anyone got wind of Steve Rogers walking around here, there would be mass chaos.

“Hey,” he replies just as quiet. “Um...Wanna get a coffee?”

You have no idea why he’s asking, but you nod anyway. Who would say no to coffee with Captain America?

Outside the Smithsonian and down the block, you bring Steve to your favorite spot to get coffee. Your best friend turned you onto it when you first got here for college, and you’ve gone here weekly ever since.

After grabbing your coffees, you pick a table far enough away from everyone else on the patio to talk without anyone listening in.

“So, uh…” Steve exhales, shifting in his seat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you shrug, holding onto your cup with both hands. “Why did you ask me to get coffee?”

“You looked familiar,” Steve says, slowly. “What’s your full name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Y/N L/N. Why?”

“Y/N…” Steve mutters under his breath, a crooked smile crossing his face. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Huh?”

“Bucky used to talk to me about you,” Steve continues, and you swear your heart stops. “He had me draw pictures of you. He couldn’t draw for crap, but he kept describing you to me from his dreams. I’ve drawn so many I’d recognize your face anywhere.”

“He dreamt about me?” You whisper. “Really?”

“All the time,” Steve nods, smiling sadly. “So you’re his soulmate?”

“I guess,” you say. “My mom says I used to say his name in my sleep all the time. I dreamt of his face, too, but I never knew it was him. Until my friend took me to the exhibit a few months ago.” You pause. “It sounds stupid. But seeing him there makes me feel...better.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says suddenly. “It can’t be easy being born in a completely different generation.”

You smile softly. “Thank you. I’m sorry, too. I can’t imagine how hard it is to still be here after all this time. And without your best friend, too.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been easy,” Steve admits. “But thanks. I appreciate it.”

“If it’s not too much to ask,” you begin, pausing to think about if you’re going to regret this. “Would you tell me about him? Just anything. It doesn’t have to be anything profound, just...anything you want to talk about. But if it’s too hard, don’t worry about it.” You wave your hands in front of your face, already preparing yourself for Steve to politely turn you down.

But he doesn’t.

“Bucky, he…” Steve pauses, shaking his head. “He was a lot wealthier than me back in the 40s. I had no business acting the way I did, picking fights with people three times my size, but I still did it. And Bucky was always there to pick me up off the ground and give me a ride back home.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle. “You used to be super skinny, right?”

“I was really sick, actually. Bucky had every reason to treat me like anyone else, but he never did. We grew up together -- though I used to joke that he grew up. I stayed the same size. But he never made fun of me for it.”

You can’t help but grin. “That video in the museum -- his smile. I see it in my dreams all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah that was Bucky’s signature grin. He could give any woman that smile and they were his.”

“I can see why,” you admit quietly, averting your eyes when Steve raises his eyebrows. You change subjects, not wanting to talk about how attractive you find Steve’s dead best friend -- despite him being your soulmate. “What was his favorite thing to eat for breakfast?”

Steve takes the bait, and for the next four hours, the two of you sit on the patio, talking about Bucky Barnes.

His favorite color? Your eyes. Which you think is a little ridiculous, but Steve swears it’s the truth.

His favorite thing to do? Go dancing. Hands down.

His favorite thing to talk about? You. Again, you give Steve a stern look, and again, he swears it’s true. But when he wasn’t talking about you, Steve says Bucky talked a lot about the future. He was an optimist. Steve has no idea how, but Bucky always saw the brightest side.

Bucky was kind. Kinder than a lot of men his age, at the time. He had that blinding smile and instead of hiding it and going for the mysterious, brooding attitude, he chose to smile as much as he could, to anyone who looked like they needed it.

Realizing that the sun is beginning to go down, Steve decides to get you home.

“It’s alright, I can walk,” you tell him, feeling high on everything Bucky. “It’s just up here. I go to college here.”

“At least let me walk you to the campus,” Steve offers.

You raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Bucky would kill me if I let his girl walk home alone. Especially when it’s getting dark.”

“Fine,” you cave. Hearing Steve refer to you as “Bucky’s girl” sends chills down your spine -- the good kind of chills. The kind that makes you wish it was the 1940s. The kind that makes you wish Bucky was here, holding your hand, walking you home.

Once you reach campus (you decide to let Steve walk you all the way to your dorm building), you ask Steve the question you’ve been wondering about ever since you first saw Bucky in the museum.

“Hey Steve?”

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Steve turns his head toward you. “Yeah?”

“If this was the 40s...do you-- Do you think I’m the kind of girl Bucky would want?”

Steve’s steps falter. You slow your pace to match his until you’re both stopped, looking at one another.

“What is it?” You ask.

“Yes,” Steve says simply. “Yeah. I do. I know for a fact he would’ve torn down every building until he found you. Because he tried.”

Your breath hitches. Deep down, you had convinced yourself that you weren’t the kind of girl Bucky would want. Not that it’s your fault because you were born this side of the millennium. But to hear Steve tell you otherwise makes you freeze.

“What?”

“Bucky didn’t have me sketch you because he wanted me to practice my drawing. He did it because he wanted to see a picture of you. Something he could keep in his wallet and look at every night. He was a ladies man, yeah, but every single one...he wanted them to be you. But they never were.” Steve shakes his head. “It really tore him up, that he never found you. He still held out hope, though. Until the very last second.”

Tears have sprung to your eyes before you even realize it.

“Before he fell, he--” Steve pauses. “He told me to promise that I’d find you. I guess I kept my promise after all.”

He looks up to see the tears in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks. Without a single word, Steve pulls you into his chest, and without hesitation, you let yourself cry.

He’s not Bucky. And you’ll never find your Bucky, but he’s close enough. Steve promised Bucky that he’d find you, and he kept that promise. Now he’s going to do everything in his power to keep you safe.

Because he knows for a fact Bucky would’ve wanted that, too.

#i knew you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #platonic!steve x reader #captain america: the winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes soulmate au #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #angst city y'all #it will not have real fluff for a while #we are stuck in traffic in angst city lmao #oops

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deithe · 3 years

Text

the bones (2,847 words) (1/1)

(an introspective on jason grace. kind of?)

read here on ao3 or read below the cut!

jason falls in love with the human equivalent of a forest fire

(his mother fell in love with the sky itself)

jason grace grew up being told that his destiny was very, very simple.

his first and most important mission, handed down to him from lady juno and mother lupa, was that jason was destined to save rome. that his destiny lay with new rome and camp jupiter, a new romulus to lead the pack to greatness. he would spill so much blood in new rome’s name that the little tiber would overflow and the gods would crown him with a golden laurel made from monster ichor.

he would be everything everyone else needed.

a spear for the senate, a shield for new rome, a standard to replace the one that had been lost, a sword for the gods to wield, and another pack member for lupa. he would be the perfect soldier, a demigod fashioned by two god-mothers for the simple act of being a weapon.

his second duty was that jason was to be nothing like his father.

his father, evil, unpredictable, selfish and cruel, was to be jason’s antithesis. lady juno stressed this, as did the senate, as did his praetors (though praetor saville jason eventually killed in battle, so jason doesn’t take her words to heart anymore). jason was never, ever to be like his father. all sons of jupiter before him were either driven insane or were killed, and jason’s great destiny could not afford for him to do either of those things.

‘hubris’ lady juno once told him, while going through his latin lessons in the damp cold of the den (or wolf house, as she called it), ‘is the thing that kills sons of jupiter’.

so jason was to never be prideful, but at the same time, never to believe he was inferior. he was to be subservient but never meek, he was to be a capable fighter but never violent. he was to be kind but not a pushover. open but not flirtatious.

he was to be perfect. he could not afford anything else.

then he, in the span of a few months, murdered his prateor after finding out she was a traitor, watched his friend be assaulted by a family legacy of prophetic visions which turned him into a paranoid asshole, watched his other friend assume a leadership role, one which he tried to refuse, and fought an army, killed a titan and toppled kronos’ black throne.

he also became praetor and then was promptly kidnapped by lady juno, leaving said other friend with all the responsibility.

then any and all plans the gods had for him were ruined by a daughter of aphrodite with eyes like the earth and a son of hephaestus with a smile like war.

how could jason be the perfect soldier when his loyalties no longer lay with new rome? he loved his home, he loved his siblings-in-arms, he loved the legion-

he loved leo and piper more than the breath in his lungs, than the sky and earth and more than his destiny. he loved them enough to try and find whatever scraps of himself he had. to create something they could love too.

(heracles killed himself after accidentally killing his family. love killed him in the end)

and so, jason failed in his first mission. he could no longer put new rome above them, above camp half-blood.

jason doesn’t think becoming his father is an option for him, however. his father is prideful and arrogant and his father's likeness, he will eventually learn, belongs only to his prodigal sister.

and so, jason grace finds his last name, a family he never knew, friends he could die for and an empty cabin that seemed less lonely with leo or piper in it.

then they went on a quest, leo built a ship and they all set sail to stop gaia from rising.

then jason lost leo, then jason lost everything, then jason lost himself and then lost piper-

and, in the middle of winter, leo valdez came crashing down on a metal dragon with eyes like a nuclear explosion and teeth made for tearing meat from bone, or tearing jason’s heart from his chest.

and then jason found himself again in the space between the junction between leo valdez's fourth and fifth ribs.

leo valdez is a lot of things. he’s a son of hephaestus and a complete asshole. he’s the first child of hephaestus to be born with the ability to create and control fire in over 400 years. he’s a 5’4ft guy who wears platformed boots to make himself seem taller. he’s so powerful that he obliterated gaia. he’s a genius. he thinks spraying axe bodyspray on himself is the same as a shower. he overworks himself even when he doesn’t have to. he can fight gods and go toe-to-toe with any big three kid and hold his own. he likes to survive on a diet of mango monster energy and takis. he's obnoxious. he's thoughtful. he makes mean-spirited jokes at other people's expense. he's the best person jason's ever met

he’s-

currently late for their date.

It’s not that jason minds, per se, but leo has a nasty habit of getting so completely lost in his work that he can plan a date for the next day, and jason won’t see him for at least three days. it’s one of the downsides of being the trophy boyfriend of a genius.

jason sighs and rocks back on his heels, eyes darting up to the grey, overcast sky. he can almost hear leo in his head, asking if he could pretty please make it less goddamn cold? and his pout when jason refuses to change the weather for him.

it's not that jason won't. it's just that he can't. it makes aeolus snappy.

sometimes he still does it. manipulates the air currents just enough to warm the air around them and leo smiles, a real one, small and soft. like it wasn't meant to be seen. a secret thing, just for jason.

jason doesn't see leo smile like that often.

it's mid-february in new york and jason is kicking around central park in the grey mid-day light. it's quiet, this part of the park, with barely anyone passing jason as he leans against a tree, wet dew dripping into his unstyled hair. it's cold, but not cold enough for a freeze or snow. just the right amount of cold to turn your hands numb and purple from cold

which. if you've never seen leo 'was raised in texas and has fire powers' valdez in new york snow, jason fully believes you've never lived.

he spends another 30 minutes splitting his time from staring into space and wandering around the meeting spot they've arranged. it's peaceful here. jason can even hear some birds twittering and chirping in the trees above. the cold even stops bothering him. jason likes being alone sometimes.

it reminds him of the lupercal and lupa. long days and nights in the loneliness of the redwood forest. just him and the wolves and the stars.

though now jason has sturdy boots and a wool jacket, so not exactly the same.

he's in the middle of trying to coax a timid sparrow onto the hand, crouched on the balls of his feet when he feels a presence beside him. he goes stiff when he realises and then, like all the tension has been zapped out of him, goes relaxed again.

"that," leo whispers, also crouched beside jason, "is one fat fucking bird"

jason represses a grin, "don't say that. he's probably barely eaten all winter," and leo snorts, moving closer to jason so their shoulders brush. the bird regards leo with some caution but his black, beady eyes seem to acknowledge that jason would keep him safe.

"he looks better fed than me, jace. do you care more about this bird than your own poor boyfriend?" leo says, faux-sadness in his voice, "how cruel, jason grace. how cruel".

jason turns in time to see leo shake his head, black curls wild around his face as they shudder like leaves in the wind. his eyes are dark brown, watching the bird watch leo. a staring contest.

leo says his name like no one else does. like it's a name. like it's good. like it's something familiar and warm. he does not say 'jason' and imagine a great hero or a wolf-boy with no past. he does not say 'grace' like a joke, like grasp for power, like it carries too much weight for his tongue to bare.

he says it like it belongs to jason. he says it like it's important. not too fast, but not too slow.

leo turns his head to find jason staring at him.

"jason" he calls, lips quirking up at the edge, pulling out the 'o' like toffee, "i know i'm pretty irresistible but please, keep your longing stares for the bedroom"

jason shoves up against leo's shoulder, blush bursting across his already red-cold face.

he pushes just slightly too hard and leo goes spilling across the wet grass, yelping in surprise.

"jason!" he yells, looking up at jason half shocked and half in amusement. "what the fuck, dude!"

jason can't help himself.

leo is wearing jason's hoodie, the black one mrs.blofis picked out for jason which leo claimed as his own even before they started dating. his new denim, fur-lined jacket (from the hide of the nemean lion they killed last year) is just slightly too big and he's wearing black jeans. he looks like the college freshman he is. he looks mortal.

he looks human. he has leaves in his hair and his cheeks are flushed from the cold, teeth showing through the toothy smile he's giving and-

it's uncanny, sometimes, how well they can pass for normal. you almost can't tell leo's died and come back to life. you almost can't tell he's more powerful than any living mortal.

almost.

jason falls on top of leo in the wet grass, which causes leo to yelp, again, and knee jason in the stomach.

jason groans "dude, what the hades was that for?" and he rolls of leo, onto the wet grass beside him, arms protectively covering his bruised stomach.

"you fell directly on top of me, you big lug," and leo sits up, picking a leaf out of his curls absentmindedly, "if you haven't noticed, you're like a bean-pole with muscle mass. that shit hurts!"

jason pouts up at leo, who manages to look both unimpressed and fond. he rolls his eyes and offers his hand to jason, who accepts and leo hauls him into a sitting position in front of him

"hi, leo" jason says finally, "you're late"

"i'm not late, loser, you're just a nerd and get places earlier than normal people. its super weird," leo tells him, matter-of-factly, scooting closer to him as they sit on the ground. "you should really get it checked. might be terminal nerdiness. the glasses are just the first sign"

jason raises an eyebrow, curviving over said glasses. "i didn't know it could be terminal. oh well, guess i'll just wither away and die from being punctual. what an injust life i lead. how the sorrows never end"

leo pouts, eyes sparking with enough warmth to keep out the cold for decades to come, "don't be so down about it, I hear being a nerd has perks,"

jason moves closer, so his knees are half-pulled up to his chest and he's balancing his weight on his hand. leo fits perfectly in the bracket of his arms.

"oh? do tell?" he asks, and leo is close enough that jason can see the faint freckles on his cheeks. they're fading from how far away leo has been from the sun, but jason loves them anyways.

"yup," leo says, popping the p and smiling like the cat who got the cream. "do you know that all nerds get super hot and funny and sexy boyfriends? as compensation for being such nerds, of course"

jason pulls back his head a bit, just as leo laces his arms around his shoulders, "really?" and his voice is soft, but the smile won't disappear from his lips, "wow, didn't know that. guess I'm lucky that you're such a huge nerd or-"

leo kisses him like coming home. and in a way it is.

jason has known many homes. he's known the small apartment with his mother that smelt like spilt wine and smoke and mold. he's known the lupercal and the redwood forests around it. he's known the barracks at camp jupiter and the feeling of purpose in his chest. he's known cabin 1 and cabin 9 and bunker 9 and on the back of festus and on the argo. he's known the feeling of reyna laughing as he tells her wild stories and of the fifth cohort raising him on their shields. he's known lying in leo's private room with piper and leo, listening to low music and feeling safe with just them.

but the one person who jason has felt like home since they met was leo. his high ground through the tsunami. his parachute during a plane crash. the one point of home. like the north-star.

jason smiles into the kiss, his free hand tangling itself in the rough fabric of leo's dark blue denim jacket. it's soft and chaste, more a press of warm lips than anything. it's comforting. it's familiar. it's everything he wants.

leo pulls back a bit, just far enough to speak but still close enough that his breath brushes up against jason's cold face. "hi," he says, brushing his nose against his, "missed you, bro".

jason snorts, "i missed you too, leo, how's MIT treating you?"

"like i'm it's bitch is how it's treating me," leo tells him, slumping slightly into jason, forehead against jason's. "can we not talk about college? i think if we talk about college I might start crying and then our date will be ruined"

jason pulls back a bit to look at leo. he does look more tired than usual, eye-bags darker and lips bitten from nervousness. he frowns, using his free hand to cup his face. "are you okay? we can just go back to your dorm if you're too tired-"

"ugh, no way" leo groans, "fuck that. i just wanna spend time with you, okay? i wanna be mushy and all that gay shit. i want bad food and to kiss you again and again and do more than kissing-"

jason rolls his eyes.

"-and then go back to mrs.blofis apartment and watch really bad movies you like for some reason and then i'll go to sleep beside you and it'll be gay and shit"

"gay and shit?"

"gay and shit, you better believe it grace. but first-"

and leo untangles himself from jason and stands up, brushing the dirt from his knees leaving jason frowning on the floor.

he offers out his hand, brown skin calloused from work, long, thin fingers curled slightly as the palm faced upwards.

"c'mon, super, treat your louis lane to some greasy new york food before he decides batman has better pay"

jason is so, so lucky he got leo valdez. that the fates decides to make sure that his destiny crosses leo's. that he convinced leo valdez to let down his walls, to stay, that jason wouldn't leave him like the others, or hurt him or betray him.

that jason was in it for as long as leo wanted him to be. that jason only wanted leo to say his name, wanted to give it to leo because leo's the only one who's mouth jason trusts with it. that jason wanted to give leo his past. wanted to show him and tell him where he got each scar.

he trusts leo with this. he trusts leo's hands to not burn it all to ash. because he knows that if leo wanted to, he could. he could burn jason alive with a thought. turn him to ash and glass with a flick of his hand.

jason has fallen in love with a nuclear bomb, with a supernova of a boy and jason doesn't care if it kills him, because he has spent so long pretending to be what everyone else needed, that now he was going to be who he wanted to be. even if it got him killed. even if it burned him alive.

jason grace has fallen in love with the human version of a forest fire. he should be afraid of it, of leo. he is not. he never will be.

beryl grace fell in love with the sky itself. wanted all the stars in heaven and didn't care what happened to her. as long as she knew she had the stars attention. as long as she knew the sky loved her back.

as long as he knew the fire loved him back.

he takes his hand.

#my writing #jason grace #fanfic #hoo #toa has no power over me i do as i please #leo valdez #valgrace

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mldrgrl · 3 years

Text

Broken Things 11/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

Jack Willis is buried in the boneyard outside of town a week to the day after Mulder and Katherine meet. Mulder attends the burial, but Katherine does not. Aside from the gravedigger and the undertaker, no one is there to pay their respects. Mulder is only there to pay the two men for their time.

Time has an interesting way of moving. When Mulder met Katherine, those first few days felt like the longest of his life. And now weeks slip by and it feels like he needs to slow things down. He remembers telling her his priority and focus is on the ranch, nothing more, yet now that she’s here, the ranch feels secondary to him in a time where he can’t afford to be distracted.

It’s coming up on October before he knows it and he’s got to get the horses ready to ride out to Fort Worth for the postal service. If the team he’s built up is satisfactory, there’s more work to be had and a government contract just may be forthcoming. If that’s not enough to occupy his time, with the new land he has thanks to his wife, he hopes to start in on the expansion before winter sets in.

Katherine fits in so well it’s like he can’t remember a time when she wasn’t there. He notices that she seems to fill a role with each of the ranch hands. For Trevor, it’s like the mother he never had. She darns his socks and patches the holes in his pants and reminds him to wash up for supper. He ‘yes, ma’am’s’ her more in a day than he’s ever ‘yes, sir’d’ Mulder in five months.

Jesse and Jimmy are often good-naturedly teasing Katherine like a little sister. They challenge her into imaginary competitions like they bet she can’t drive the carriage in a circle around the barn or they bet she can’t make as good of an apple pie as Melvin or they bet she can’t catch all the suckling pigs in under a minute. For her part, she seems to enjoy proving them wrong.

Melvin treats Katherine almost reverently, like a father would a daughter. He speaks of her with pride when he tells Mulder of how she handles the carriage or how she’s put logical sense into the kitchen and the cellar shelves or how she read some beautiful verses from the bible to him. He notices that Katherine also worries over him like a devoted child as well, telling him to rest more, to sit down, not to overtax himself.

It’s been harder for Mulder to pinpoint the relationship Richard has with Katherine. Richard keeps to himself most of the time, but he has had the occasion to observe them speaking. One particular time, they were both crouched low and Katherine was scratching at the dirt with a stick. Richard was nodding thoughtfully and he moved away looking as though he was in deep contemplation. Mulder asked Katherine what they were conversing about.

“I asked him to make me a washing line on a pulley,” she said. “I was explaining where I wanted it, the type of pulley I would need and where the loosener should be fitted.”

“I’m sure he’ll build you a very fine washing line.”

“Oh, I have no doubt. We were trying to determine which space might maximize efficiency. There’s a lot to think about; which way the wind is likely to blow, the position of the sun, where to keep the wash basin and ringer, for example. He’s going to think on it.”

So, Mulder determines that Richard thinks of Katherine like a colleague or an equal. She’s the one person he’s ever asked for advice from. If he runs into an obstacle, he seeks her out to talk it through instead of wallowing in self-loathing. Perhaps if the army had been populated by Katherines, Richard would still be there.

He’s been too busy to take Katherine out on another picnic, but they spend almost every evening sitting on the porch together. She is usually sewing and he tells her stories about the constellations or reads to her from his favorite book, Gulliver’s Travels. It’s a good thing she seems to enjoy listening because he’s never met a silence he can’t fill.

He’s packing for the trek to Fort Worth and remembers that Katherine still has his valise. It’s late, he wonders if she might be asleep, but he can see light coming from under the door, so he knocks quietly.

“Katherine?” he calls, as soft as he can in case he might disturb her.

“You may come in,” she answers.

He opens the door and then cuts his eyes away for a moment when he sees she’s in her nightdress and a robe, sitting at the edge of the bedstead. “Oh, uh…”

“Yes?”

He looks at her and she’s combing her hair. He’s never seen it loose before and it’s wildly curled, like endless fiery waves over her shoulders and down her back. She always keeps it braided and he’s surprised she’s able to tame it so well.

“I’ll be needing my valise.”

“Oh!” She sets the comb down on the bed and goes to the wardrobe. “I should have returned it to you weeks ago.”

“I’ll get you one of your own in Fort Worth.”

“What would I need with a valise?”

“For traveling.”

She hands him the valise and their hands meet on the handle. She doesn’t let go. “Traveling?” she asks. “Am I going somewhere?”

“Maybe one day you might like to take a trip somewhere. We could take a trip. A honeymoon, perhaps.”

Her brow shoots up and she releases the valise into his grip. He feels foolish for saying such a thing and bites his lip for a moment and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I only meant that maybe you’d like to accompany me when I need to return east some time. We could stop in New York City. See the electric bulbs in the park.”

“You would...you would take me east with you? To New York City?”

“I’m needed in Boston from time to time and I would love to bring you along.”

“I would like that very much.”

“I wish I could take you with us to Fort Worth.”

“I wouldn’t be able to go anyway.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have my own valise yet.” She smiles at him rather coquettishly and he chuckles.

“I will remedy that soon enough. Do you think you might miss me when I’m gone?”

“I may not have time to miss you. With half of you gone, I was planning to give the floors a good scrubbing. Not to mention, Richard is installing my washing line and I hope to get all the bedclothes washed. And of course there’s-”

“Alright, you can’t wait to see me gone and have me out from underfoot.”

“No, I…” She pauses, drops her chin and cocks her head to the side just a bit. “Keeping busy helps take my mind off things like missing people.”

He tries not to smile too broadly, but he knows the grin on his face must look foolish. He bites his lip and nods. “I’ll say good night, then,” he says. “And I’ll let you get back to...your bedtime rituals.”

“Good night. I will see you in the morning.”

He hesitates and then gestures a sort of farewell with the valise. As he starts to close the door, he can’t help himself and he stops. “I will miss you, in case you were wondering.”

“I suggest you try to keep yourself busy, then.”

He chuckles and closes the door behind him.

↭

Katherine is up early in the morning to make breakfast and to pack a nice noon dinner for Mulder, Jesse and Jimmy. Richard, Trevor and Melvin will be staying behind at the ranch. Even though she’s up before sunrise, the wagon is already packed and the horses have been saddled and hitched. The men eat quickly, eager to set out on their journey. Before they leave, Mulder pulls Katherine aside and gives her a bankroll.

“Don’t think I didn’t remember the first of the month is just a few days away,” he says. “I assume you’ll want to head into town and see Mr. Skinner about the mortgage due.”

“This looks like more than we agreed to.”

“Well, call it an advance. There’s a nice little cafe in town. See if you can’t treat your lady friends to a noon dinner while you’re there.”

She crushes the bankroll in her fist and tries to think of a place she can keep the money safe. He puts his hat on and then winks at her.

“Keep yourself busy,” he says, and then heads out into the morning light. She follows to the porch to watch him go.

Jesse is driving the team of horses pulling the wagon and Jimmy rides next to him on the horse they call Faithful Jenny. Mulder mounts Blondie and turns to give her a wave before he takes the lead on the small party and then they are off and she already feels a pang of longing for him to return.

The first two days, she keeps busy with the scrubbing she’d told him she wanted to do and prepares for a day of heavy laundry. She helps Richard with the hanging of the washing line and with a few adjustments and tightening of the rope and pulley, it works as smoothly as she’d hoped.

On Friday, she dons the new calico skirt she’s only just finished sewing, a fresh blouse, a pair of black gloves she purchased at the mercantile but has not yet had occasion to wear, and ties on the hat that Mulder gave her the day they married. She asks Melvin if he could hitch up the carriage for her and though she’s terribly nervous about her first foray into town by herself, she knows she can do it. She’s put in a good amount of training with Melvin learning how to drive these last few weeks and there has to be a first time for everything.

Lady is ready and waiting with the carriage when she comes outside after having secured her money into a hidden pocket she’s sewn into her skirt. She’s more afraid of losing the money or having it stolen off of her than she is for problems driving the carriage.

“You sure you don’t want me to ride with you?” Melvin asks. “I can saddle up George and follow you even, if’n you’d like me to do that.”

“I’ll be fine,” she says. “I’m just going to go to the bank and drop in on Mrs. Byers and Mrs. Doggett. I’ve boiled some eggs and took out some canned pears. There’s enough salt pork left to fry up.”

“Don’t worry about the kitchen today, go have yourself a nice time in town. But, if’n you’re not back here before the sun drops west, I’m comin’ out there after you.”

“Lady, walk on now. I’ll be back soon!”

She can scarcely believe she’s driving a carriage on her own, making her way into town, and yet she is. Even Lady seems to sense her excitement and prances down the road in a nice, quick trot. Katherine smiles when she passes the trees she recognizes from her picnic with Mulder. Her arms are tired by the time she makes it into town, but she feels exhilarated by her accomplishment.

“Well done,” she tells Lady after tying her to the post and rubbing her cheek. Lady nods and shakes her head.

The bank is busier than when she was there before. The teller is assisting a man at the window and two others wait behind him. One of them nods and tips his hat to her when she walks in. She waits as well and looks past the line to see if she can spot Mr. Skinner, but his office door is closed. She becomes a little anxious when she waits, not sure of what she is to say to the teller. She thought she might just walk in and be able to speak with Mr. Skinner. Soon, it’s her turn and she steps up to the window and then fumbles for the money concealed in her pocket.

“I am here to pay my mortgage due,” she says.

“Name on the account,” the teller asks.

“Um, Jack Willis, I believe.”

“One moment.”

The teller turns away and then opens a box. He takes out a stack of small cards which he quickly shuffles through and removes one. He returns to the window and takes up a pen that he dips in ink.

“Ten dollars and sixty cents,” he says as he’s writing on the card.

Katherine carefully counts out eleven dollars and then slides it into the tray at the window. The teller counts it as quickly as he shuffled the cards and he puts it into another tray below the counter. He slides forty cents change back to her and the card as well.

“Sign, please,” he says.

She hesitates with the pen in her hand. She does not know what name to write. Should she sign Katherine Willis, or Katherine Mulder?

“You can mark an ‘x’ if you are illiterate,” he says.

“No, I am not illiterate,” she answers. “I was recently remarried, I am unsure if I should sign with that name.”

“Who’s your husband?”

“William Mulder.”

“Wait here.”

She begins to feel nervous all over again. Another man has come into the bank as she’s been at the window and is now waiting for her to finish. She doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know if she should leave and come back, but the teller told her to wait and so she waits. She starts to perspire and she loosens the tie on her hat. She whirls around when someone says her name.

“Mrs. Mulder,” Walter Skinner says. “I’m glad you’ve come by.”

“You are?”

“I’ll take it from here, Mr. Crawford.” He takes the card from the counter and gestures for Katherine to go ahead of him to his office. She returns the pen and then goes with Mr. Skinner. He makes an imposing figure and rather reminds her of her father, which makes her all the more nervous.

“Is something the matter?” she asks, taking a seat in front of his desk.

“Not at all. Mr. Mulder was in earlier this week before his trip out to Fort Worth. I just have a paper here for you to sign adding you to his account.”

“Adding me to his account? What does that mean?”

“It means you are able to make deposits or withdrawals on your husband’s account, provided we have your signature on file.”

She stares at him, incredulous. She doesn’t even know what name she should sign with to pay her mortgage and now she’s expected to have access to a bank account?

“I have my own money here,” she says. “I don’t think I need Mulder’s account. Do I?”

“He added your name on Monday and asked that when you came in to make the mortgage payment that I have you sign the paperwork.”

“I must confess this is all very new to me, Mr. Skinner. I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to sign this card as Katherine Willis or Katherine Mulder.”

“That card just keeps a record of the payments. My teller signs it saying he received the money and you sign it saying you paid it. You don’t have anything to worry about there, but I think that you should go ahead and sign as Katherine Mulder from now on.”

She nods and he gives her a pen to sign the card. It’s the first time she’s written her married name on anything and it feels strange. She never did get accustomed to being Mrs. Willis, but when Skinner had called her Mrs. Mulder earlier, she answered without hesitation. She hands him the card and he passes her the paper she’s to sign for Mulder’s account.

“And just so you’re aware,” he says. “I expect the transfer of your lease to be returned by next week. It will be filed under your joint account, so be sure to request the mortgage under your own name next time.”

“I will remember. Thank you for helping me, Mr. Skinner.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Mulder.”

She leaves the bank with much less of a triumphant feeling than she felt in successfully driving the carriage. In fact, she feels as though she has hardly taken a breath in that whole time. She steps down to Lady and rests her forehead against the horse’s neck and strokes her mane.

“We’ve done it,” she whispers to the horse.

“Katherine?”

Katherine steps back from the horse and turns towards the voice that called her name. She sees Monica Doggett hurrying towards her across the dirt road, waving to her. She waves back.

“I thought that was you,” Monica says, greeting Katherine with a warm embrace. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Yes, you as well, Mrs. Doggett.”

“Ach, Monica, please. Mrs. Doggett is my mother-in-law and trust me, there’s only room enough in this world for one Mrs. Doggett.” Monica laughs and squeezes Katherine’s hands. “What brings you to town?”

“I had a banking matter to attend to.”

“Are you here long?”

“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you. I wasn’t sure how to find you, but I was just on my way to drop in on Susannah Byers and I thought she might know.”

“We’re down on this road if you keep going over the bridge ahead. Can’t miss it. If I’m not there, it’s probably because I’m running something over to John.”

“I’ll remember that. Mulder told me there was a cafe in town and I should invite you and Susannah for a noon dinner. I’d understand if you’re busy with chores or errands though.”

“Are you kidding? I would love nothing more. And if I know Susannah, she will be absolutely delighted by the offer. Is this your carriage? Did you drive in all on your own?”

“I did. Though Lady did most of the work.”

“How thrilling. Shall we?”

Katherine climbs up into the carriage and Monica hops up next to her in the passenger seat. It takes nothing but a few minutes to end up at the mercantile and Monica steps down first and waits at the foot of the porch steps for Katherine.

John Byers is standing before a display table with a clipboard and pencil, taking notes. He smiles when the ladies come in and puts the pencil behind his ear.

“Good morning, ladies,” he says.

“Mr. Byers,” Katherine answers.

“We’ve come to collect your wife,” Monica says. “You won’t mind if we borrow her for a bit to have dinner at the cafe, do you?”

“Not at all. Let me go and get her.”

“Oh, how darling.” Monica holds up a knitted pair of baby booties that she picks up from a table. “Sometimes I sure can’t believe my little ones used to fit into socks this small.”

“You have children?”

“Two. Luke and Sarah. Sarah just turned nine and Luke will be fifteen in just a couple weeks. Do you have any children?”

“No.”

“Well, there’s plenty of time. And when that time does come, I promise I’m the best midwife all of Texas has to offer.”

Katherine gives Monica a polite smile. “I’m certain you are.”

“Oh my word, is it true?” Susannah comes bustling into the storefront, throwing off an apron that she carelesses flings in her husband’s direction. John catches it with one hand. “We’re going to go out to dinner? Is that right? Oh, let me get my hat. John, how could you let me walk out without my hat! I’ll hurry back. Don’t go nowhere you two!”

Monica laughs and then winks at Katherine. “I told you Susannah would be delighted.”

When Susannah returns, the three ladies head out of the store and Susannah leads the way down the boardwalk to the cafe. Katherine worries a little about leaving the horse and carriage, but Susannah tells her not to fret that it’ll be fine where it is. They’re seated next to a window at a table for four and after ordering some cold cut sandwiches and lemonades, Susannah and Monica start to gossipping about people Katherine has never heard of. She’s content to listen to the conversation and doesn’t mind that she isn’t required to participate.

“Oh, but listen to us,” Susannah says. “We’re being rude. Katherine, I haven’t even asked after your husband or how you’re faring out on the ranch.”

“Mulder is well. He’s in Fort Worth right now to take a team of horses to the United States post office.”

“You didn’t join him?” Monica asks. “When John and I were first married, I’m telling you he couldn’t hardly walk down the road without pulling me along.”

“I’d much rather stay behind anyway. There’s so much to tend to at the ranch and...well, the truth of it is, I would just like to stay put for awhile. That was one of the reasons I married Mulder in the first place. To just...to just stay still.”

“You did a lot of traveling around with your first husband, didn’t you?” Susannah asks.

“Too much. In four years I don’t think we were ever in the same place for more than a few weeks. And then we ended up here and it was like there was nowhere left to go.”

Monica nods and then she reaches across the table and puts her hands over Katherine’s. “I did have the occasion to meet Jack Willis once,” she says, petting Katherine’s hand lightly. “He had the blackest aura I’ve ever seen. You must have been miserable.”

“It wasn’t a very happy marriage. I don’t know what an aura has to do with that. I don’t even know what an aura is.”

“Oh, Lord, Monica, not the auras!” Susannah throws her hands up, but chuckles.

“There’s a belief that all people put off energy,” Monica says. “Like a candle putting off heat.”

“Monica is an enthusiast of alternative ideas.”

Monica laughs. “John was posted in San Francisco for a few years and I met the most fascinating people there that believe in some of the most extraordinary things.”

“We had a preacher come through here once that called her a heretic,” Susannah adds. “In the middle of a sermon.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have become a preacher if he didn’t want to answer questions.”

Katherine looks between the two women and shakes her head. “Energy is the quantitative property that must be transferred to an object in order to perform work on the object,” she says. “Like measuring the temperature required to boil water.”

Monica glances at Susannah and she shrugs. “I don’t know what any of that means,” Susannah says. “I just turn the stove on and wait for the bubbles.”

“Have you ever gotten a bad feeling when you meet someone for the first time?” Monica asks. “Or even a really good feeling?”

“Yes.”

“You’re feeling their energy. Auras are like...I suppose they’re like a way of measuring a person’s disposition.”

“I don’t know how you would measure a feeling.”

“Auras are the colors of the energy that people put off. Some people are lucky enough to see them.”

“And you’re one of those people?”

“I am. Anyone can see them though if they want to. It’s about opening yourself up to possibilities.”

“How does one open oneself up to possibilities?”

“I think it starts with inner peace. Really letting go of fear and doubt and not worrying so much about the past or the future and being extremely present in the moment.”

“I see.”

“Your husband is mostly blue, but there is some red there too. He’s very compassionate, loyal, trustworthy, and nurturing, but also driven and hard-working.”

“I don’t really think you need an aura to tell you that. Just as I don’t think you need an aura to tell you that Jack was surly and unpleasant.”

“No, but I could tell right away, even without knowing you, that you and Mulder belong together. You can’t tell me you weren’t drawn to him immediately, even if you didn’t know why.”

“I was intrigued by him, I will admit that.”

“And you knew he was someone you could marry even though you’d only known him for a day.”

“But, she didn’t really have much of a choice in that,” Susannah interjects.

“I did though,” Katherine confesses. “He offered me money for my land, land I didn’t even own, and he said he would help me start out somewhere if I wanted.”

“And you chose to marry him.” Monica smiles.

“He was kind to me when he didn’t have to be. I know I didn’t know hardly anything about him, but still I felt...very fond of him.”

Monica nods knowingly. “Your auras.”

“I’m a yellow,” Susannah says. “But, Monica, you haven’t said what Katherine is.”

“Would you like to know?”

“You might as well tell me.”

“You are almost equally tan and crystal. Which means you’re very private, cautious and practical. And you’re a healer.”

All of those things are true, but Monica could come by those conclusions without more than a few minutes conversation with her. The part about being a healer though, that is a little disturbing. The waiter comes over with their tray of sandwiches and lemonades and the conversation falls to the wayside. Katherine wonders what color Monica is, but doesn’t want to ask, lest Monica think she somehow believes in that kind of foolishness. People emitting colors? How absurd.

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 11 #AU #MSR

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Note

Prompt: mickey is walking with Franny when Terry shows up. Mickey protects Franny. Franny runs home where ian and family are and shouts that a man is hurting uncle mickey. Basically hurt mickey, protective ian. Ian conforting Mickey afterwards!

anon this is so GOOD !!! i LOVE some mickey & franny content, plus gallavich comfort :’) this is somewhat intense and got way too long lol, but the whole thing was so fun to write and i hope u enjoy <3

also my asks are open for more prompts! (since i am on winter break & bored out of my mind lol)

& ofc, tw for homophobia and physical violence

“C’mon kiddo! Bet you can’t catch me!”

“Yes, Uncle Mickey, yes I can!”

The sun was beating down onto the slushy pavement of the South Side, reflecting off the gritty late-winter snow that remained on the sides of the road and nearly blinding Mickey as he tried to lightly jog down the slippery sidewalk, just outside of Franny’s reach. Franny, who was a tottering bundle in her thick winter coat, a scratchy-looking red woolen scarf Tami had given her for Christmas, and a pink sparkly winter hat Debbie had forced over her ears before Mickey took her outside to play, was running as fast as she could to stay on Mickey’s heels.

Mickey hadn’t meant to take Franny as far away from the Gallagher house, into the winding South Side neighborhoods, as he had—Debbie was having some sort of meltdown about her business going to shit after a situation with organic snacks and climbing out a window (Mickey wasn’t even going to ask)—and sensing tensions were high, Mickey had pulled Franny out the back door to run around and play “gangsters,” her new favorite game, with the toy guns he’d gotten her for Christmas. They were going to stick to playing in the backyard, mostly because it was fucking freezing and almost dark outside, until Franny was about to encroach on Mickey’s fictional gang’s territory under the porch stairs, and of course Mickey couldn’t have that—so now they were racing through the streets, with Franny giggling and practically tripping over her own clunky winter boots every few steps.

“Is that all you’ve got, Wonder Woman? Come and get me!” Mickey called to Franny over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna get you! I will, Uncle Mickey!”

Mickey chuckled as he kept running, and felt his heart soften. As shitty as he’d always been with kids, and how often he always froze in panic anytime he’d had to take care of Yev back in the day, he had to admit that goofing around with Franny was pretty fucking fun.

And that also just made him depressed, because he knew that she was going to grow up surrounded by all of this bullshit—the dysfunctional family, Frank’s shenanigans, the drugs and beat downs, the mom with an ankle bracelet. Right now, Franny was just a kid—the neighborhood hadn’t taken its toll on her yet.

Luckily, Mickey didn’t have shit to do all day—he barely had a job aside from security for Kev and V’s practically non-existent pot side business, so he had plenty of time to play with Franny. If he could do anything with his life right now, he could make sure that Franny had some happy memories to cut through all the bullshit life was inevitably about to throw to her.

Mickey continued to run, lost in thought, until Franny caught up to him and sharply tugged on the back of his coat.

“I win, Uncle Mickey, I win! Now I’m gonna blow your face off!” Franny said with a playful scowl as she held up her toy gun.

Mickey chuckled and put his hands up in the air in resignation, turning to face Franny. “Alright, kid, you got me. Nice work.”

He held his hand out for Franny to high-five, which she gave willingly before pulling off her sparkly pink hat and throwing it on the ground.

“I’m too hot. Uncle Mickey, can we go home now? I think I know the way back.”

Mickey ruffled her hair. “Sounds good, kiddo. Lead the way.”

Just as they were about to start walking in the direction of the Gallagher house, a gruff voice came from behind them, mingling with the blowing wind.

“Mickey?”

Oh fuck.

Mickey turned around slowly, giving a quick mental prayer to whatever god that existed, if god even did fucking exist, that the voice he heard wasn’t the one he thought he had.

In the end, it was as bad as his worst nightmare.

Terry stood six feet in front of him on the ice-caked sidewalk, a lit cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth (just like it always was), his hands visibly curled into fists by his sides. Mickey took in a sharp breath, and tried to quell the wave of panic overtaking him. Calm the fuck down. Mickey tried to remember the checklist of what he always had to do when he saw his dad, a survival tactic he hadn’t had to think about for months: Keep your eyes down. See if you can smell alcohol. Look at his waistline and see if he has a gun.

Mickey’s eyes flickered to Terry’s pockets. No gun, thank fucking god. He slowly reached out behind him to take Franny’s tiny gloved hand, mentally cursing himself for letting them walk this far from home. Then he looked Terry in the eyes and swallowed. You can do this.

“Hiya, pops. What’re you doing over here on this beautiful Tuesday afternoon?”

Terry’s eyes narrowed, his stance still aggressive, but he remained rooted a safe distance away. “Don’t make fucking small talk with me, fairy boy.” He paused and took a drag of his cigarette. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you around here.”

“Well, I guess today’s your lucky day. About time for a family reunion.”

Terry gave a bitter, menacing chuckle that sent a shiver of remembrance down Mickey’s spine. “Who’s the kid?”

“Uh. It’s Debbie’s kid.” My niece, he bit back. My husband’s sister’s daughter.

Franny looked up at Mickey, not in confusion but in wide-eyed understanding. Franny was only five, sure, but she wasn’t stupid; she’d seen her fair share of violent shit go down on the street in front of her, and she knew what aggression looked like—what it looked like when someone was about to attack. Mickey looked back at her, and ever-so-slightly raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was a warning. Get ready to run, kid.

“Huh.” Terry threw his cigarette butt on the ground, slowly grinding the ash into the slush with the toe of his shoe. “Funny that you’re out here with her, all on your own. No one else on the street, not for blocks.”

Mickey exhaled, attempting to still his racing heart. On a different day, when he wasn’t so caught off guard by Terry’s presence, he would have ended this here and now; pulled a gun and put a bullet right through his father’s homophobic skull. But Terry was right—there was no one outside for miles, no one stirring behind the curtains of the houses lining the streets, no one to call for help if Terry physically overpowered him and kicked the life out of him. And Franny was still holding his hand.

“Yeah, well. We’re just goin’ for a walk. And we’re gonna head back now, if you’re… done.”

Terry held Mickey’s gaze, unblinking. When he spoke, his voice was low and ice cold. “When the fuck was I ever done with you?”

It all happened in an instant, but also in terrifyingly smooth slow motion—Terry charged at Mickey, fists raised, skidding across the ice in a blur.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, you deformed excuse for a Milkovich!”

Terry was seething with the same fiery anger as when he flipped the table at Yevgeny’s christening, the night he found out that Mickey was gay—as he raced across the pavement, all Mickey could do was think about how to get Franny out of here before his father’s fist connected with his face. He gently shoved Franny behind him towards the sidewalk leading to the Gallagher house.

“Go, Franny, go!” He choked out, before Terry thrust a punch to his stomach and Mickey doubled over, kneeling on the damp sidewalk.

Terry’s shadow hovered over Mickey, and he knelt down, grabbing the hair at the scruff of Mickey’s neck. Mickey could smell his breath, all stale cigarettes and burnt coffee, like it had been for the past thirty years of his life.

“Been waiting a long time for this,” Terry said through his teeth. Mickey gathered every ounce of strength that he could— thank you, Kev Fit membership— and crashed his own head into his father’s, toppling him over and pinning him down. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, and saw Franny’s bootprints leading down the street, saw a flash of a red scarf turning the final corner a few blocks down. Thank god.

Terry squirmed under Mickey’s iron grip on his wrists. “Get off me, assfucker!”

“Sorry, Dad, no can do.” Mickey could almost grin. All he had to do was knock his dad out cold, and this whole thing could be over—

Out of nowhere Terry’s right arm broke free, striking Mickey’s side and toppling him onto the pavement.

“I’ve got you now,” Terry drawled, and that was the last thing Mickey heard before Terry’s boot stuck into his side and he saw stars.

The sun had almost set beneath the clouds, casting a warm glow through the front windows of the Gallagher house. Ian and Carl sat in the living room, engaged in particularly immersive debate about the accuracy of cop drama TV shows in an attempt to drown out Debbie’s continued melodrama of reading her bad Yelp reviews.

“Nah, man, I’m telling you, there’s no way an EMT would actually get to the scene that quickly anyways—"

There was a soft series of frantic knocks at the front door, so gentle Ian barely would have heard it if the TV volume wasn’t turned to a low hum. Ian sprang up and swung the front door open to… Franny?

A tear-stained, snow-soaked Franny, with matted hair and a scarf hanging half off her neck.

“Uncle Ian! Uncle Ian, we have to go help Uncle Mickey!”

What the fuck?

“Franny, what’s the matter?” Ian tried to gently guide her inside out of the cold, but Franny stomped her boots and shoved Ian’s hand away.

“We have to go now Uncle Ian! A man is hitting Uncle Mickey! We have to go quick!”

Ian froze. Shit. There were plenty of people who wanted an excuse to beat the crap out of Mickey, most of whom Mickey could take— but regardless, Ian didn’t want anyone fucking up Mickey’s parole.

“Oh, shit. Okay. Franny, can you take me to Uncle Mickey?”

Franny fervently nodded. “He’s up the street. I was chasing him when we were playing.”

Ian turned to call over his shoulder. “Hey, can anyone help me back Mickey up in a fight with some dude?”

Carl put his hands up in resignation. “Don’t look at me, man. I should be a mile away from any instance of Mickey breaking his parole.”

Sandy darted into the living room, from the kitchen where she had been consoling Debbie. “Mickey’s in a fight?”

“Apparently. He was playing with Franny down the road and now Franny’s back here.”

Sandy looked at the disheveled Franny standing in the doorway. “Shit. I’ll grab my shoes.”

“Uncle Ian, we have to go now!”

“Okay, we’re coming Franny. Lead the way.”

Franny guided them down the sidewalk, the three of them casting dark shadows onto the roadside piles of snow as the sun disappeared beneath the clouds. “This way!”

Ian didn’t really know what he was expecting to see as they turned the final corner, the street almost totally enveloped in darkness— maybe Mickey pinning some guy up against a wall, or in the back of a cop car. But he was certainly not prepared to see Mickey as a static heap sprawled on the sidewalk, while the unmistakable figure of Terry Milkovich stood above him, pummeling Ian’s husband.

Sandy noticed Terry’s presence before Ian could even react to what was going on. “Uh, Franny, hey, can you walk back to the house please?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Ian’s feet were sprinting down the street. “Terry! Get the FUCK off of him!”

Ian could barely register his body’s movements as he smashed his fist into Terry’s nose and tackled him to the ground. Terry spit in Ian’s face. “Fucking Gallagher!”

Ian hit Terry once again, keeping him pinned down. He struck him over and over, not stopping to process if he was even moving, or breathing, or fighting back.

“Hey! Everyone calm the fuck down!”

Ian looked up over his shoulder—Sandy was standing above them, pointing a gun directly at Terry, whose face was now bashed and bloody.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, my dear Uncle Terry,” Sandy said in a sickly-sweet voice that didn’t match her iron gaze. “Ian’s going to get off of you, and you’re going to stand up and walk down the street back to your shithole house. And you’re going to watch your fucking back, because you never know when I could decide to come home one night while you’re asleep and make you regret everything you did this evening. Are we clear?”

Terry’s eyes narrowed, panting as he stayed pinned beneath Ian. “Those Gallagher queers got you too, huh?”

Sandy cocked the gun even more aggressively in Terrys direction, her thumb teasing the safety.

“That’s not how it works, dumbass. Unlike some pieces of garbage in this neighborhood, the Gallagher family actually cares about each other. Now—are we clear?”

Terry scowled at Ian, and gave a curt nod. “Get the fuck off me, fag.”

Ian didn’t budge. “Sandy, no,” Ian snarled.

“Ian, we’ll deal with him later.”

Ian looked up at Sandy, who met his eyes with an expectant gaze, still holding the gun directly at Terry. It took every ounce of strength Ian had to kneel and rise from the ground—it would be so easy to knock Terry out, to tell Sandy to pull to trigger, to put all the pain he’d caused behind them. To finally feel safe.

Terry immediately stood, and looked at Mickey on the ground, practically unconscious and his blood mingling with the snow. Terry opened his mouth to say some final retort— but Sandy clicked off the safety of the gun, steadily pointing it in his direction, and Terry promptly closed his mouth again. He turned and walked away.

Ian was immediately at Mickey’s side. “Fuck, Mickey, fuck.” Ian choked out. “Hey, look at me.”

Mickey had definitely hit his head, hard—there was a gash on his forehead dripping blood down his face, just like the night of Yevgeny’s christening when they’d watched Terry be forced into the back of a cop car. He looked up at Ian, his eyes drifting in and out of focus. Ian quickly scanned the rest of Mickey’s body—aside from a few solid kicks to the ribs, his head injury seemed to be the only major issue. Ian gently ran a hand through his hair.

“Mickey, hey, can you stand up? We’ve gotta get you home.”

First, get Mickey home— only then could Ian actually let himself process everything that had happened, and swallow down the bile rising from his stomach. First, Mickey had to be safe.

Sandy leaned over next to Ian. “Do you think we’re gonna have to carry him?”

“Uh, yeah I think so. Can you grab his legs?”

Mickey forced his heavy eyelids open, hazy and disoriented. He blinked, trying to clear the sleep out of his eyes. The blurry outlines of he and Ian’s bedroom, cloaked in darkness, slowly came into focus. He could feel the scratchy crocheted blanket on top of him, but aside from that his limbs were so heavy and numb he could barely move. A dull pain throbbed in the back of his head. Fuck.

“You awake?”

Ian was curled next to him in bed, not touching any part of Mickey’s aching body but leaning in close, nearly a centimeter away. Ian’s hand reached up and gently wiped a damp piece of hair off of Mickey’s forehead. Mickey winced.

“Sorry. How d’you feel?”

“I’ve definitely felt better,” Mickey croaked. “What time is it?”

“Almost 1 a.m. You’ve been out for a few hours,” Ian replied in a low voice.

“Shit.” Mickey closed his eyes. They were silent in the darkness for a few moments, but Mickey could feel Ian’s eyes on him. “My head fuckin’ hurts. What’s your prognosis, doc?”

“You definitely have a concussion. It probably won’t be a big deal in a week or two. You don’t need stitches or anything, though. And I did some EMT magic on your ribs, which mostly just means I put ice on them while you were sleeping.”

Mickey smirked, his eyes still closed—partially from the headache, but partially because he didn’t want to look Ian in the eyes yet. “Franny okay?”

“Yeah, she’s all good.”

“And, uh. Terry?”

He could feel Ian stiffen beside him. “Probably at home, being the same lowlife asshole he always has been. Sandy pulled a gun on him.”

Mickey opened his eyes, and could see through the darkness that Ian’s own eyes looked puffy and worn. It killed him to see Ian suffering, once again, because of him— it felt like they were always battling something at every turn, sure, but in Mickey’s case, it was almost always Terry they were fighting against.

“Fuck. When I’m less tired, and my body feels less like shit, remind me to go kill him, yeah?”

Ian laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I almost tried that tactic myself. I think Sandy scared the shit out of him, though. We’ll figure out what to do if he… acts up again.”

Mickey knew it was a lot more complicated than that, and that in the morning he would probably be seething and grabbing his guns and marching down to Terry’s house with fire in his eyes, but they didn’t need to dwell on that right now. Right now it was quiet, and Ian’s body was pressed against his, and Mickey was wrapped in a warm blanket in a bed with his husband. They were safe.

“I’ve thought I’d lost you thousands of times, Mick, but tonight really scared me” Ian softly whispered, cutting through the silence. “I thought… I don’t know, when I saw you on the sidewalk, I thought after all the shit your dad has said, I might’ve been too late.”

Mickey took a sharp breath in, making his ribs sting, while Ian kept talking.

“When you were in jail, or in Mexico, I knew you were always out there, and I guess knowing that always kept me going. But knowing I could have lost you again tonight—I don’t know, it scared the shit out of me,” Ian said, his voice breaking.

Mickey mustered all the strength he had, and slightly shifted his weight onto his left side to face Ian, whose eyes were glassy. Beneath all of Ian’s macho shit the past few weeks, it was so easy to look at him and forget that he was still also that tired, scared kid from the South Side that Mickey met ten years ago, one who didn’t know if good things could be permanent or if other people could stick around. Mickey put his hand up to Ian’s face, running his thumb up and down his cheekbone.

“Hey. C’mere.”

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey—gently at first, like he was gliding his fingers over something precious, and then fully wrapping his arms around him, and burying his face in the hair on top of Mickey’s head. Mickey could feel Ian’s heartbeat through his thin t-shirt, feel the warmth radiating off of his biceps that encircled him. Ian pressed a kiss to the top of Mickey’s head, where his forehead met his hairline.

“I’m here, Gallagher,” Mickey whispered into Ian’s skin. “I’m not going anywhere. No one’s gonna change that shit.”

#lol I hope the first chunk of this is okay I am truly horrible at writing emotionally intense fight scenes #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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