#i am ready to believe in santa again if it gets us more content
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Once Bitten - Twice Shy
Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.
One of the challenges of sharing custody is sharing holidays which is something that Whitney Taylor found herself struggling with in the December of 2019. The prospect of spending Christmas without her son was dismaying, but the complications that come with the alternative might be even harder to face.
Chris Evans x OFC
Part One
----
Part Two
25.12.19
When I woke up in the morning, it took me a moment to figure out where I was and why the pillow my head was resting on was so hard and warm. Once I'd figured it out - that my head was not actually on a pillow, but on Chris' chest - I almost had to roll my eyes. Of course it was. Of course we'd ended up all cuddled together. Because life was just one big romantic comedy, right?
I sighed quietly, silently praying that Chris wasn't awake yet as I slowly slid myself away from him. He didn't stir until I was sitting on the edge of the bed so I was hopeful that he hadn't been aware of the position we were in.
"G'morning," he greeted me, rubbing his eyes as the sound of excited children echoed down the hallway. "What time is it?"
I quickly checked my phone on the nightstand before answering.
"Only seven o'clock," I told him before yawning. "But it sounds like everyone is up and bouncing off the walls already."
"I'm not surprised," Chris smiled. "They've probably torn into all the presents by now."
I laughed and nodded my head, knowing it was a good possibility.
"It probably wasn't super smart to leave Scott out there guarding them by himself," I pointed out. "Not after he spent half the night shaking his own presents trying to guess what was inside."
"Oh, it definitely wasn't," Chris agreed. "He was always the one who ruined things by finding his presents early and getting us all in trouble."
"Well, I should go see what they're up to or if anything can be salvaged," I smiled as I pulled a sweater on over my pyjamas. "Are you coming?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be out in a minute," he assured me. I headed to the door, but stopped when I heard his voice again. "Hey, Whitney? Merry Christmas."
I smiled even wider as that happy, familiar Christmas morning feeling washed over me.
"Merry Christmas, Chris."
With that, I hurried out the door, trying not to focus too much on how content I felt and how right it seemed to wake up in his arms on Christmas morning.
-
When I got to the kitchen, I was surprised to see that everyone else was already awake, despite how early it was.
"Good morning," Lisa greeted me as I wandered into the kitchen where all the adults were congregating. "Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas, everyone," I smiled before they all repeated it back to me. "Did I miss all the fun?"
"No, of course not," Carly assured me. "We've managed to keep them away from the presents so far, but I'm not sure how much longer we can hold them off."
"We're still waiting for Chris though," Scott pointed out as I grabbed a clean mug and headed to the fresh pot of coffee on the counter. "Have you seen him? He disappeared not long after we went to bed and never came back."
"Oh, yeah, he's in his room," I answered mindlessly as I filled my mug. "We ended up sleeping together last night."
I heard Scott almost choke on his coffee and noticed the sudden silence in the room, but it wasn't until Lisa spoke that I realized what I'd said.
"Whitney, honey," she said, speaking softly. "What do you mean?"
"Oh my god, no! Not like that!" I rushed to explain as my cheeks grew hot. "We literally slept together, like as in slept next to each other. Chris came into his room looking for a sweater because he was cold and had given away all his spare blankets so I offered for him to share the bed with me. That's all, I swear."
There were knowing smiles amongst the group and I wasn't entirely sure that they all believed me which made things even more embarrassing as I wouldn't want them to think I'd talk so candidly about things like that with Chris' mother of all people. Before I had a chance to continue desperately defending myself though, a voice from the doorway interrupted.
"What are you swearing about?" He asked, leaning against the doorway. "Why do I feel like I missed something good?"
Again, I was ready to explain, but someone beat me to it.
"Whitney was just giving us the update," Scott informed his older brother as he matched his smirk. "She was telling us how you two slept together."
Chris' eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a moment before he relaxed and let out a chuckle.
"Well, that's not exactly how I would have phrased it," he informed the group with a shrug. "But I suppose it is accurate. We slept and we were together."
"I just misspoke," I groaned. "I haven't had any coffee yet, I wasn't thinking clearly."
"A little Freudian slip?" Carly suggested as she joined in on the teasing, but I simply rolled my eyes.
"Chris probably wishes that was a peak into my subconscious desires, but I'm afraid not. Just a clear sign that I am not a morning person."
"I think we'll all need plenty of coffee to deal with the energy in that living room," Lisa interjected, putting an end to the discussion despite Chris' protests of my claim. "But we should probably go and join them before they open all the presents, whether they belong to them or not."
We all murmured in agreement and everyone topped up whatever beverage they were drinking before we headed to the living room to start the Christmas fun.
-
"Mama!" Grayson shouted as we entered the room. "Look! Santa came!"
"Of course he did," I smiled at the children. "You've all been good this year so it's no surprise."
They all nodded and agreed enthusiastically except Ethan who, now that he was almost ten, had figured out the truth. He was a good kid though and a loving older brother so he kept the secret, quietly watching them with a knowing smile now that he was finally in on the joke with the adults.
"Can we open them?" Stella asked, bouncing up and down from holding in her excitement. "We've been waiting for so long!"
"I wouldn't say so long," Scott chuckled. "Since it's not even eight o'clock in the morning yet!"
"But, yes, you can open them," Carly informed her children. "Just be careful and don't rush."
There was a flurry of activity as the kids dove into the presents, organizing whose was whose before settling down next to their little piles. I took a step back and sat on the couch next to Lisa, letting Chris sit on the floor behind Grayson. It was his Christmas after all and it felt right that he should be the one helping him open presents. Plus, this way I got a perfect view of the joyful grin that was plastered on his face. A grin that was perfectly replicated by his father behind him making my heart clench at the sight of them together like this.
I watched from my spot on the couch as the gifts were opened one by one and soaked in every giggle and shriek of glee from the children. Grayson was on top of the world and so grateful for each and every gift, it was delightful to see. Given our financial security, especially for Chris, it would have been easy to spoil him, but it made me incredibly proud to see how gracious he was.
However, one of the last gifts he wasn't so grateful to receive. It was from me and I knew there was a chance it wouldn't be his favourite, but his response was far worse than I could have imagined.
It was a decent sized box and he tore off the wrapping paper eagerly, intrigued by what could be inside. When he revealed that it was a foot and a half tall electronic T-Rex, his first reaction was one of amazement.
"Wow! A dinosaur!"
"Yeah," I smiled. "Take him out and see what he can do."
Chris set to work helping Grayson open the box before glancing up at me.
"Does he need batteries?"
"I put some in already," I assured him. "I knew he'd want to see it right away so I thought it would be easier."
He nodded as Grayson placed the giant T-Rex on the floor and looked at me expectantly.
"There's a button on his back, press it."
Everyone watched as he poked around until he got the right spot and the dinosaur came to life. He roared and his head moved around, but as the older kids cheered and clapped, Grayson burst into tears.
"Oh, dear..." Lisa smiled as she watched her grandson leap into his father's arms.
Everyone was chuckling at his dramatic reaction as Grayson buried his face in Chris' neck.
"Awe, buddy, I'm sorry!" I apologized. "Did it scare you?"
"Yes! He's scary!" Grayson's response was muffled by Chris' body and hard to understand through his sobs. "I don't wike it, Mama!"
I smiled at the little speech impediment that he inherited from his father - much like the one his cousin, Miles, had - but I did feel bad for how genuinely afraid he was.
"I'm sorry, baby. We can take the batteries out, okay? Then he won't be able to move."
The dinosaur had stopped moving on his own before I spoke and Grayson moved his head from where he was hiding his face, nodding as he did so.
"Yes, please."
"I bought it a while ago, thinking it was the perfect gift and then last week, he suddenly decided that T-Rexes were mean and I thought it might not go down so well," I admitted to the adults as I stretched forward to pick up the dinosaur and take the batteries out. "It's such a shame though, I think he's adorable. If you press the button on his tail, a little song plays and he does a little wiggle dance."
Chris smirked at me as he rubbed our still sniffling son's back.
"Why don't you take him home? Sounds like you might enjoy playing with him when Grayson isn't around."
He was making fun of me, I knew he was, but I didn't take the bait.
"You know what? I might just do that."
Chris opened his mouth to most likely make another teasing comment, but Ethan interrupted him.
"If Grayson doesn't want the T-Rex, can I have it?"
"I think you got enough new toys this morning," Ethan's dad warned him. "Don't be greedy."
"We'll let Grayson keep him for now," Chris agreed. "He might get used to him after a while if he plays with him without the batteries."
I passed the toy in question back to Chris and Grayson cowered away, whimpering against his dad's chest.
"Just leave it for now," I suggested. "We can try it again later when the initial shock has worn off."
Chris nodded and put the dinosaur behind his back and out of sight.
-
The rest of the gift opening went by smoothly and no more children were traumatized. Once every gift that was under the tree had been opened, we left the kids to test out their new things while the adults headed to the kitchen to start making breakfast. It was quickly decided that pancakes would be the easiest thing to mass produce for our large group of hungry people and while Lisa, Carly and I started mixing up a few bowls of batter, Chris and Scott whipped out the orange juice and champagne for mimosas.
An hour later everyone was very full and we were two bottles of champagne down.
"So, Whitney," Scott started as he loaded up the dishwasher. "Are you staying here tonight too or are you planning on making us spend half the day shovelling the driveway for you?"
His tone was teasing, but as I looked out the window at the deep blanket of snow that covered the ground outside, I was torn. I didn't want to outstay my welcome by staying another night, but I also didn't want to make the Evans family spend their entire Christmas day shovelling snow and there was no way that I'd be able to do it by myself.
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I wasn't planning on staying another night, but it does look like there's a lot of snow out there..."
"Just stay," Chris shrugged. "Even if we can get your car down the driveway, the roads are probably terrible."
"There's no need for you to rush off," Lisa agreed. "Stay another night and then you can just relax and enjoy the day."
"And you can drink if you're not driving home," Scott pointed out with a grin. "Chris and I stocked up on wine, beer, whiskey and gin, these mimosas were just the start of the party."
I couldn't help, but laugh at Scott's reasoning as I nodded my head.
"Alright, I'll stay. If you really don't mind, Chris?"
"Of course not," Chris assured me. "We're happy to have you."
"Great!" Scott grinned. "I'm glad that's settled, I think this calls for another round of drinks!"
Chris cheered and jumped up to help him while the rest of us smiled and shook our heads at their antics.
-
The day was spent soaking in quality family time, watching the kids enjoy their new toys and indulging in lots of food and drink. We called Chris' dad and my parents and even had an unexpected phone call from my Uncle Rob. He spent more time talking to Chris than me, his own niece, but it was nice to hear his voice even if he made sure to get a dig in about me confessing my supposedly obvious feelings to Chris.
Sitting around the table, eating a delicious meal with Chris' loving and welcoming family was quite a contrast to how I expected to spend the day and I was very grateful that Chris had included me. Grayson seemed to appreciate it too and he made his enjoyment clear as we tucked him into bed once all the fun and feasting was done.
Chris sat on the floor leaning against Grayson's nightstand, reading him his favourite bedtime story while I laid on the bed next to him and rubbed his back. He was drifting off by the time the story was finished, but he was fighting it desperately as he spoke again.
"I'm happy, Mama," he told us, his words muffled as he nuzzled into his pillow.
Chris put his hand over his heart as he mouthed an 'awe' at me and I smiled.
"You're happy?" I clarified quietly, my smile growing as he nodded. "I'm glad to hear that, baby."
"I like that you're here," he mumbled. "Daddy should come home with us too."
My heart clenched at that request as my smile faltered. I knew it was only a matter of time until Grayson paid more attention to the fact that his time was divided between two homes, but I wasn't ready to deal with it just yet.
"Maybe Daddy could come for a sleepover sometime," I suggested, stroking his hair back out of his face, but that wasn't all he wanted.
"He should come all the time."
I was never great at hiding my emotions and from the way Chris was watching me, I assumed my distress at Grayson's comments was written all over my face and I was grateful when he jumped into the conversation.
"But what about Dodger?"
Dodger's ears perked up from his spot at the end of the bed, but he settled again when he realized that Chris wasn't calling for him.
"He can come too," was Grayson's answer to that dilemma, but Chris had a response at the ready.
"C'mon, you think Dodger would have enough space in your Ma's apartment?" He asked. "He needs a big house like this to run around in!"
So then we could all just stay here would be the logical comeback to that, but it seemed our sleepy little guy was too tuckered out from the excitement to argue. He let out a little sigh of defeat, but said no more. We stayed quiet for a few minutes until his breathing shifted and he was soundly asleep.
Chris offered me his hand to help me climb over Grayson without waking him up and, after whispering a quiet request to Dodger to keep our boy safe, he led me out of the room.
"You okay?"
The question came as soon as Grayson's door was pulled to and we were in the hallway.
"Yeah, of course," I nodded, forcing a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Chris shot me a look that clearly showed his disbelief.
"You looked pretty downhearted in there."
"I just worry," I shrugged. "I don't want our situation to upset him and I know he's going to notice it more as he gets older."
"He'll be fine," Chris assured me, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. "He's got so much love in his life, he won't even notice that his family is a little different."
I wasn't convinced. He was obviously already noticing or he wouldn't have questioned it only moments before. I didn't want to start such a delicate, potentially tense conversation at the end of such a happy day though so I forced a more convincing smile onto my face.
"You're right," I agreed. "But I wouldn't be a mom if I didn't worry."
"Well, there's no time for worryin' on Christmas!" Chris claimed, followed by a grin as he dragged me off towards the kitchen. "What can I get you? Another wine? Maybe some gin? I might have some tequila kickin' around here somewhere..."
"No! No tequila!" I laughed. "Gin would be great, thanks."
Chris nodded and set to work mixing our beverages for the evening before we went to the living room to rejoin his family and I did my best to push any worries about letting Grayson down out of my mind.
-
After the kids were all in bed, the rest of the evening was spent playing games and sharing drinks. It was heartwarming, wholesome family fun and I was so glad that Scott had encouraged me to stay as the thought of rushing home to my cold, empty apartment wasn't at all appealing.
The only strange thing about the evening was Chris. We were teamed up for most of the games and it was quite amazing how in tune with each other we were as we won everything by a landslide. We'd been friends for a long time and knew each other very well so it was unsurprising to me that we had so much success, but the teasing comments that came from a rather drunk Scott implied other reasons than friendship for our harmony. I scoffed and rolled my eyes every time he cracked a joke about us, but Chris seemed to love it. He was a few drinks in and probably just feeling a little goofy, but the grin on his face after every suggestive comment sparked an odd feeling in my stomach.
It was around ten o'clock when everyone except Chris, Scott and I decided to go to bed. We bid them goodnight and Chris went to top up our drinks before settling back onto the couch beside me. By this time, I was definitely feeling it. I wasn't drunk, but I knew this drink would have to be my last as the flush of my cheeks and the happy, fuzzy feeling in my brain was telling me that it was time to wind it down for the night.
However, as Chris handed me another gin and soda, settled on the couch next to me, placed his drink on the end table beside him and pulled my feet into his lap, my mind suddenly felt surprisingly sharp.
"What are you doing?" I asked, a giggle slipping from my lips.
"Releasing some tension."
As he answered, he began a slow massage of my left foot and I couldn't help, but smile at how wonderful it felt.
"Releasing?" Scott snorted a laugh. "Sure, a foot rub is known for getting rid of tension, not making it worse."
Chris smirked at what Scott was insinuating, but seemed unbothered by it.
"Don't be jealous," he teased, but now it was my turn to smirk.
"Of what?" I questioned. "This foot rub? It's not that great, Scott."
Scott laughed as Chris gasped a tad over dramatically.
"Not that great? I offer you a free foot rub and you can't even be fuckin' grateful?"
Chris shook his head, but the smile on his face told me that he wasn't really offended. He did stop massaging my feet though and I whined in protest as he picked up his drink.
"A mediocre foot rub is better than nothing," I pouted. "Keep going."
Chris sipped his whiskey, the smile on his face morphing back into a smirk as he shook his head again, but he did let his hand rest over my ankles and I was happy for even that tiny bit of contact.
Scott changed the subject to some viral video he saw the other day and Chris laughed and chatted along as he absentmindedly let his hand drift up my shin, underneath the loose pyjama pants that I'd changed into shortly after we put Grayson to bed.
My mind was instantly taken back to another time when we'd shared such gentle touches. A time when his lips followed his fingers as they traced kisses up from my ankle all the way to the lacy edge of my underwear. A time when he'd then proceeded to pull that underwear off with his teeth before returning his face back to a very sensitive area.
"Whitney, have you seen it?"
Scott's question snapped me out of my racy daydream. I felt my cheeks flush with colour as I forced my gaze away from Chris' hand over to Scott, reminding myself that even though the look on Chris' face would make it seem otherwise, he couldn't possibly know what I was just thinking of.
"Uh, no, I haven't," I admitted, sipping my drink to try to cool myself down even though it was becoming apparent to me that I needed to slow down my alcohol consumption. "All I seem to watch these days is Paw Patrol."
Chris barked out a laugh and nodded.
"So much Paw Patrol," he agreed. "The kid's obsessed."
"Chase is on the case!" I giggled before changing my voice slightly. "Rubble on the double!"
"Oh my god," Scott laughed, a horrified look on his face. "We need to get you out more."
I shrugged as Chris continued to trace patterns on my shins.
"That's the life of a mom."
"Yeah, but what about when he's with Chris? You must have some sort of life then."
"Scott."
Chris' voice was harsh and warning as what Scott was implying could be taken as offensive, but I wasn't bothered.
"It's fine," I assured him. "I know I'm lame. I don't have much of my own life, I don't really know anyone around here."
"You have Allison," Chris pointed out. "You've mentioned her a lot. She's your friend, right?"
He was referring to my one and only friend in Massachusetts. She was also a photographer and we'd met at a camera store when I first moved here. She'd asked me a question about a new brand of film and we'd ended up having coffee to exchange tips. She realized quickly that I didn't know many people in town and had taken me under her wing.
"She is," I nodded. "But she has three kids of her own and she's married so she doesn't have weeks where she's child free like I do. We hang out when we can, but usually it's with all the kids, not like quality 'girl time'."
"I didn't know that," Chris frowned. "I'm sorry..."
"Don't feel bad for me." I nudged him with my foot. "I have plenty of friends, they're just in LA. I'm happy here."
"I'll take you out for drinks one day," Scott promised. "Even if you're happy, everyone needs to let their hair down a little bit sometimes."
"That would be fun," I smiled, tossing back the last of my drink. "But for now, I think I've let my hair down enough for today. It's time for me to get to bed before all these drinks go to my head."
I slid my feet off of Chris' lap and slowly stood up as he looked up at me.
"Are you cool if I bunk with you again tonight?"
"Of course," I nodded. "Just sneak in quietly if you two stay up too late."
"I'm ready to crash already," Scott informed us. "So, we won't be up much later."
"Okay. Well, goodnight boys," I waved as I headed towards the door. "Thank you for a lovely day."
They chorused a goodnight back to me before I walked down the hall.
-
I was just coming out of the en suite in Chris' bedroom after brushing my teeth when Chris strolled into the room.
"Hey," I smiled. "Ready for bed already?"
"Scott wasn't lying," he returned my smile. "He was half asleep by the time you made it down the hall."
I laughed as I crawled into bed and settled against the pillows.
"Well, it has been a busy day."
Chris agreed as he grabbed his pyjama pants and headed to the bathroom. I picked up my phone from where I left it on the nightstand, turned off the lamp on my side of the bed and answered a few text messages from my family, figuring I may as well wait the few minutes it would take Chris to get ready for bed before I attempted to get any sleep. When Chris reappeared, I locked my phone again, put it back on the nightstand and snuggled down under the blankets, trying not to stare too much at his chiselled torso. He wasted no time turning off the lamp on his side as well before slipping in next to me, shivering dramatically as he pulled the blankets up over his chest.
"It's so freakin' cold tonight."
I snorted a laugh, shaking my head even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see me until our eyes adjusted to the dark.
"Maybe if you put on a shirt you wouldn't feel it so much."
"Honestly," Chris started, the smirk evident in his tone despite his face still being hidden in shadow. "Usually, I just sleep naked so these pants are for your benefit."
I felt my cheeks flush as the words 'then by all means, take them off' were on the tip of my tongue. I forced them out of my mind as a long forgotten tingle rolled through my body and I focused on answering him.
"My point was that a t-shirt would provide you with extra warmth," I explained. "So, your point that you usually wear less clothing makes no sense."
The bed shifted slightly as Chris chuckled.
"Well, I can think of another thing that could provide some extra warmth."
"What?"
I felt my heart rate pick up, the blood rushing through my ears so fast that I hardly heard myself answer him as I wondered if he could possibly be implying what it seemed like he was implying.
"You." His voice was low, the same seductive tone he'd used all those years ago, and I felt my mouth go dry. "Come give me a cuddle."
For a moment, I thought I was a lot drunker than I'd realized and that I was hallucinating or in some kind of lucid dream, but that thought brought me to a different realization.
"Chris!" I whispered, my tone scolding and accusatory. "You're drunk!"
A burst of laughter came from the other side of the bed and I quickly shushed him, knowing Grayson was asleep in the room above us.
"I'm not drunk, I promise," Chris assured me as his raucous laughter came under control. "I just thought it was worth a shot. It's nice to have a little cuddle with a beautiful woman sometimes."
I felt another flush of heat run through me, but I rolled my eyes and, as I had the night before, I took a pillow and placed it between us, drawing a clear line in the sand even if that hadn't worked out so well the last time.
"Goodnight, Chris."
"Goodnight, Whitney."
I rolled over, closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
I did try. I really, really did.
But after almost ten minutes of thoughts whirring through my head, I knew it was hopeless and I turned back to face Chris. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could see well enough to know that he was laying on his back so I carefully moved the pillow that I'd placed between us and slowly slid over towards him. I felt him tense so I knew he was awake, but he didn't question what I was doing so I continued until my head was on his chest and my arm was draped over his stomach. He stayed perfectly still, just long enough for me to start second guessing myself before he shifted slightly to put his arm around me.
We stayed like that, holding each other in silence, and I had to admit that Chris was right. It was nice to have someone to cuddle with. The physical contact was filling a hole in my touch-starved heart and I tried not to think about how fleeting of a moment it was or how things would be back to normal in the light of day. There was a strange ache in my heart at that thought and I knew I needed to get out of my head.
"Chris?" My voice was soft, just in case he'd drifted off in the last few minutes, but when he tightened his grip on me, I knew he was still awake. "Thank you for inviting me today."
"Of course." He squeezed a little tighter. "I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner."
"It's fine," I assured him, letting my hand lazily trace patterns on his skin. "You're under no obligation, you're allowed your time with Grayson without me."
"It's not about obligation. I'd never want you to spend Christmas alone even if Grayson wasn't in the picture."
"I was really dreading it."
My admission made me feel vulnerable as I'd spent so long trying to pretend that I wasn't bothered by the idea of a lonely holiday, but Chris didn't seem surprised.
"Really?" He questioned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The crying onto your steering wheel didn't give that away at all."
"Shut up," I mumbled, turning my face into his chest to hide my smile at his teasing. "I'm just trying to express my gratitude for your kindness."
"No gratitude is needed. It's been my pleasure having you here today and Grayson loved it."
He kissed the top of my head after he'd finished speaking and almost reflexively, I found myself stretching up and placing a soft kiss of my own against his collarbone. It felt intimate and the moment hung heavy between us. It felt right to me, but I knew instantly that I'd crossed a line. A comforting kiss on the top of my head was one thing, but what I'd done, kissing his bare chest, was inappropriate. My cheeks burned as I tilted my head up to look at him, meeting his eyes as they looked down at me. His expression was unreadable so I opened my mouth to apologize only to be completely shocked when he pressed his head forward and his lips against mine.
The shock quickly morphed into a feeling that could only be described as euphoria. There was something distantly familiar about the way his mouth moved on mine, but it felt strange and new as it wasn't exactly as I'd remembered - and I had spent more time than I'd want to admit reliving the last time we'd shared a kiss like this.
It wasn't until he pressed his tongue against my lips, in an attempt to deepen the kiss, that I snapped out of my daze.
"Chris, wait," I breathed out as I pulled away and stared up at him, my cheeks now flushed much more from excitement than embarrassment. "We shouldn't do this."
"Says who?"
The little voice in my head telling me that I'm about to ruin everything that we've worked hard to create. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but as he smirked down at me and licked his lips as if he was preparing for what was to come, I found myself incapable of logic and reason.
"Doesn't matter."
Chris hardly had time to acknowledge my answer before I dove back in for another kiss, moving to a more comfortable position as I straddled his waist.
He completely overwhelmed my senses. The inescapable scent of him surrounding me, the feel of his strong body between my thighs and the soft little sighs of enjoyment that he kept making every time our lips parted for us to take a breath. None of it was doing anything to ease the ache that was growing between my legs and my hands gripped into the sheets where they rested just above his shoulders as I pulled back to look down at him. I needed to see his face to remind myself this was really happening and who it was really happening with as it still felt so unreal.
Chris smiled up at me, his lips looking plumper already, and let his hands settle on my hips to keep me steady.
"You okay?"
I nodded and leaned down to peck his lips again before answering.
"I've never been better."
Chris' smile only widened at that confirmation and he moved his hands down to cup my bum, pressing my hips forward and giving me a moment of friction that I'd been desperately craving. I pressed myself up, pulling my upper body away from him as a gasp fell from my lips and my eyes squeezed shut. I was embarrassingly aroused from a few mere minutes of kisses, but it had been a very long time since I'd had any physical contact with a man and my body was already on fire.
I rocked my hips against the toned muscles of his abdomen, soaking in the pleasure that was radiating through me and I was debating whether it would be rude of me to continue until I reached the release that was quickly building inside me. Clearly, Chris was just as intuitive as I remembered as he let out a groan and effortlessly flipped us over so he was on top.
"Not like that," he smirked. "I've been thinking about this for too long, it's not happening like that."
I felt another flush of embarrassment as he could obviously tell what I'd been thinking about doing, but I nodded in agreement.
"But if this is really happening, we need to be quiet," I reminded him. "Everyone's sleeping."
"They're all upstairs, they won't hear," he assured me. "And Scott's on the other side of the house."
He was right, we'd be fine as long as we kept ourselves under control, but it didn't matter anyway as all my doubts disappeared when his lips pressed against my neck. I let my hands slide around his waist, resting on his toned back while his lips continued their trail down my neck and stretched the neck line of my shirt to expose my shoulder. His lips locked onto one spot just above my collarbone, sucking and nipping until I was sure there would be a bruise there in the morning.
"Chris," I gasped out, digging my fingernails into his back. "Don't leave a mark."
He backed off a bit, kissing gently against the now sensitive skin.
"It'll be easy to hide," he assured me. "And if I remember correctly, you enjoyed a few bites here and there..."
He opened his mouth to dig his teeth into my shoulder and an image flashed into my mind. A memory of me, bent over with Chris' thumb on my clit as the two fingers he had inside me stroked a particularly delicate spot. He'd placed a soft kiss on the cheek of my bum before sinking his teeth into my skin, sending me over the edge.
I couldn't help, but moan from the combination of the memory and the sensation of his teeth in my shoulder as my hips pressed up against his. Chris seemed to be spurred on by that action as he ground his hips against mine and quickly let his hands slide down to the bottom of my shirt. He lifted it up and for a moment I was lost in the bliss of the sensations he was providing, but as my shirt was raised just past my belly button, I froze.
"Wait!"
My voice firm and demanding and he immediately responded, stopping his actions and looking up to meet my eyes.
"What's wrong?"
I bit my bottom lip as I pondered how to voice my concerns. If I didn't say anything, there was a chance that we could get through this without drawing any attention to it, but I couldn't help but think it was better to point it out than have Chris notice on his own.
"I just..." I breathed out, trying to figure out how to articulate my thoughts. "I just look different now."
"What?"
Chris pulled back even further, looking down at me with genuine confusion in his eyes and my cheeks burned as I tried to puzzle out how to explain my feelings in a way that didn't make me look shockingly insecure.
"Since I had Grayson, since the last time we did this," I clarified, my cheeks burning as I brought my flaws to his attention. "I look different. Like, I have stretch marks and my boobs aren't as perky as they used to be."
Even in the dark shadows of the room, I could see Chris' jaw clench as it did when he was annoyed and trying to bite his tongue. Panic flooded through me as I wished I'd kept my mouth shut, but his next words astounded me.
"Get outta here," he huffed. "You think I care about that?"
I dropped my gaze to the tattoos on his chest as I regretted ever opening my mouth.
"I don't know," I admitted. "Lots of men probably would."
Chris moved back, slowly sliding his body down, away from mine and I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop him and hold him against me as long as I could, but I was powerless to do anything, but watch. My heart sank, thinking he was going to roll off of me any minute now, but then he stopped. His face was level with my lower stomach and turned his eyes back towards my face.
"This body," he started, placing a kiss on my stomach. "This stomach, these stretch marks." He kissed the faint lines that were now barely visible on my skin despite how vibrant they were in my mind. Then he continued up, lifting my shirt as he went until it was resting above my breasts, my nipples hard from the chill in the air and the anticipation I was feeling. "These boobs." He kissed and nipped at the delicate skin, tracing all the way along until he captured a nipple in his mouth, teasing it briefly with his tongue. "They changed because you gave me my son, the greatest gift you could have given me. I have nothing, but gratitude for that and you're still the most fuckin' beautiful woman I've ever seen."
He was exaggerating. I knew he was exaggerating. He saw and worked with Hollywood's most elite actresses and models, there was no chance that I was even close to the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. But he managed, again, to push all doubts from my mind as his lips set to work, this time focusing on my left nipple while he shifted his weight and freed a hand to stroke and pinch the right.
They were sensitive, they always had been, and the way that Chris was working them right now was almost too much. My head fell back and my hands dropped to the sheets as I tried to focus on enjoying the sensations and not immediately demanding for Chris to move lower, to give me more, to touch me where I wanted to be touched with increasing need. He was always paying attention though and before I even needed to voice my request, he let his mouth slip from my nipple and trail back down my stomach.
He nipped at the skin just above my pyjama pants before hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down. I tugged my shirt over my head at the same time before laying back against the pillow, completely naked underneath him.
"Beautiful."
He'd muttered the word, almost more to himself than to me, but the sincerity in his voice flooded a new kind of warmth through my body. I tried to push it down, focusing on what we were doing, what this was and all it could be. Because yes, I loved Chris, but this wasn't that. This wasn't making love, this was a simple release of sexual tension. I didn't need my feelings getting in the way and making this complicated or I was going to get myself hurt.
I'd been so lost in my head that I hadn't noticed how my legs had fallen apart for Chris to settle between them or how he'd spread me with his fingers, opening me up for him to enjoy. It wasn't until I felt a slow, gentle lick right over my clit that I snapped back into the moment. With a gasp, my hips pressed up to meet his mouth, trying frantically to keep the friction now that it was finally there.
"Easy," Chris warned me, chuckling as he pulled back slightly, earning a whine from me. "We'll get you there, don't worry."
A feeling of desperation was building up inside of me and as he blew gently on the very sensitive parts of me that were in front of him, I was about ready to start begging.
"Please," I whimpered, moving my hand to his hair in case he got any bright ideas about pulling back any further, but I was relieved when he let out a groan and finally gave up on his teasing.
Suddenly I was aware of nothing, but Chris' mouth on me. My back arched as he licked up from the bottom of my core to the top, swirling his tongue around, exploring every little nook and cranny before settling his focus back on my clit. It was like he'd studied me, like he'd committed our previous brief encounter to memory and remembered exactly what I responded to as he licked and sucked with just the right amount of pressure and speed to have me panting as my grip tightened in his hair.
It had only been moments, but I could already feel the pressure building inside me, bubbling closer towards the surface. Chris, as if sensing this, eased off just slightly to slide his tongue a bit lower, pressing it against my entrance, dipping just barely inside, before replacing it with one of his fingers. I felt myself clench at the sensation, my body desperate for relief, desperate for something more inside me and Chris obliged, adding a second finger almost immediately.
"So wet, baby," he hummed, placing a kiss on the inside of my upper thigh.
I was too wrapped up in my own pleasure to formulate any kind of response, but Chris didn't bother waiting for one anyway before putting his lips back on my clit. The combination of his fingers and his mouth had me seeing stars and another whimpered plea slipped from my lips as he flicked his tongue against me. He was focused and determined, groaning against me after a particularly sharp tug on his hair when he angled his fingers inside me to find that one particular spot that made me see stars.
He stroked it once. Then twice. And on the third that coil that had been tightening inside me snapped. I covered my mouth with my free hand just in time to bite down and muffle the scream that Chris pulled from me as my hips thrust up towards him and I spasmed around his fingers as I fell over the edge.
Chris coaxed me through it, easing his attentions as I came down from the high I was feeling. He slid his fingers out of me, looking up to meet my eyes before licking them clean. I groaned, feeling myself twitch with arousal at the sight despite my heart still racing from the orgasm I had just had. He flashed me a smirk before crawling up my body and pressing his lips against mine again.
I sighed happily into the kiss, letting my hands slide down his back, just teasing the top of his pants as I reluctantly separated our mouths.
"Take these off."
My tone left little room for argument and Chris looked down at me with a smirk.
"Yes, ma'am."
He lifted his body off of mine just long enough for me to shiver from the loss of the warmth he was providing, but he quickly returned once his pants were discarded. He stayed slightly lower when he returned, turning his attention back to my chest, taking my left nipple in his mouth this time and using his hand to tease the other. My eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but I fought the urge to simply lie back and let him do what he wanted with me. I wanted more, I needed more and I didn't want to wait any longer.
"Chris," I whined. "Please, fuck me."
Looking down, I could see his eyes widen in surprise at my blunt demand. He let his mouth slip off my nipple before giving it one last little nip, just hard enough to make me gasp from the slight twinge of pain.
"As you wish."
He reached down between us, taking a moment to slip his two fingers back inside me. He spread them out, gently stretching me and I was grateful. From my memory, Chris was thick and it had been approximately three years and five months since I last had sex (not that I was counting).
Once Chris was satisfied that I was adequately prepared, he pulled his fingers back and guided the tip of his cock towards my entrance. I tried to relax as he slowly stretched me open, but even as my mind revelled in the bliss I was feeling, a thought hit me that made my eyes widen and body stiffen.
"Chris!" I gasped out, gripping his shoulders to push him away slightly. "Condom!"
His head dropped down and he grunted as if he was using the last of his restraint to pull out of me.
"Shit," he cursed. "How could we forget that again?"
"I guess we don't learn from our mistakes," I smiled, despite the pang in my heart as the voice in my head chimed in again to say 'clearly not or you wouldn't be about to fuck him and break your own heart again'. "Do you have one?"
Chris nodded, rolling off me for just long enough to reach over to the bedside table. He pulled one out of the drawer, ripped it open and slid it on with impressive speed before crawling back over me.
"Now," he smirked. "Where were we?"
He looked down as he guided himself inside me again. The initial stretch wasn't as intense the second time around, but it grew as he pushed deeper and my breath hitched once he was fully inside. Chris stilled, sensing my discomfort as he dropped his head to kiss along my jaw until his lips rested just below my ear.
"You good?"
"Mhmm," I nodded, breathing out and shifting my hips as I started to adjust. We stayed like that, connected but still, for a few moments until I felt the tension ease a bit. "You can move."
"You sure?" Chris looked at me with concern on his face, but I nodded.
That was all the reassurance he needed as he began slowly moving his hips. He pulled his lips back from where they rested near my ear and pressed them against mine.
He kissed me deeply, passionately, as he created a steady rhythm, sliding in and out with his hips pressing hard against mine with each thrust. His biceps bulged and strained to support his weight through the movement and he eventually let his mouth fall away from mine as he could no longer hold back a groan. That noise, and the grunts that followed, made me twitch around him as if my body was doing everything it could to keep him inside me, to keep the pleasure that it had been craving for so long.
I could feel him dragging against every inch inside me, brushing against every nerve and stretching me just enough to keep me constantly impressed by how big he was. It was somehow too much, but not enough all at the same time and I hitched my leg higher up on his waist to help him get closer, deeper, if at all possible.
"Good girl..."
Chris' words hummed encouragingly against my collarbone where he placed another soft kiss before pulling back. He placed his hand on the back of my knee and lifted it even higher, opening me up for him even more.
My head dropped back against the pillow on the next stroke as his cock slid against that delicious spot inside me where his fingers had been only minutes before. He was watching, looking down between us to see me wrapped around him, see me taking him all the way every time he pushed in. I could hear him mumbling praises, compliments about how well I was doing, but I was too far gone, too wrapped up in the pleasure emanating from between my legs to do anything, but moan in response.
He slowed for a moment, leaning down, my leg catching on his shoulder and pressing it even higher as he reminded me to be quiet. He nipped my ear lobe, pulling a whimper from my lips before moving back and picking his pace up again. I knew he was right, but it was hard, next to impossible even, to hold back the noises that were bubbling in my throat.
I bit my lip and dug my nails into his skin as I attempted to control my volume and silently cursed Chris when he shifted his weight just enough to put the pressure of each thrust back on just the right spot. He moved his thumb down to brush over my clit, but it barely took a few strokes for me to fly over the edge.
It felt like my whole world exploded as I clenched around him, a low moan slipping past the lip between my teeth. The tingle ripped through every part of my body, every muscle quivering with pleasure, as Chris picked up the pace even more, with one final burst of speed until he stilled, letting out a deep, rumbling groan of his own before pumping in and out a few final times.
Once he'd stopped his movements completely, he let my leg lower to the bed, collapsing against my chest as he fought to catch his breath. I drifted my hand up to stroke the damp hairs on the back of his neck and soaked in the blissful feeling, a feeling I'd dreamt about since the last time I had the pleasure of enjoying it.
We stayed like that for a few moments until Chris reluctantly pulled back, letting out a soft groan as he slid out of me.
"I'll be right back."
I admired Chris' ability to walk already as all I had the strength to do was nod and shift back to my side of the bed. When Chris reappeared a few minutes later after disposing of the condom in the bathroom, I could barely keep my eyes open. He climbed back under the blankets and shifted over towards me until he could pull me right against his chest with our legs intertwined.
"That was nice," I sighed happily, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms as I nuzzled my nose into his toned pecs.
They shook as he chuckled and a giggle slipped from my lips as well.
"It was," he agreed, kissing the top of my head the same way he had at the start of this little rendezvous.
There was a heaviness in the air, the underlying unspoken words and the conversation that needed to be had hung between us, but I couldn't bring myself to ruin the moment. I'd spent so much time thinking about this, what it would be like to be in his arms again, I couldn't bare to say anything that might make him pull away and snap out of the moment of insanity we'd slipped into.
So, I didn't and neither did he. With one final, gentle kiss goodnight, we stayed tightly in our embrace until we drifted off into a contented sleep.
-
Part Three
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Lovers
After hours of cursing at my laptop, I have finally finished my secret santa fic for @artemiseamoon (hope you like it!!!)
Ezra x reader (written with an AFAB reader in mind, though it’s entirely possible I accidentally made it gender neutral)
Warnings: insecure Ezra, discussion of body image (Ezra), light angst, but mostly fluff, possibly OOC Ezra? idk I haven’t written a lot of him yet... umm marriage is discussed just but it’s left ambiguous as to whether it’s legal or if y’all just decided to say you were 🤷 ...um possible inaccuracies with the tarot content?? i did my research but I had zero knowledge to begin with so idk if I got everything right?
Word count: 5098
A/N: Important!!! This fic is separated into sections... Italics take place in a different point in time. The three middle sections (which each have titles) are to represent each card in the tarot reading, the first titled section (in italics) is a flashback, the second is present time, and the third (in italics) is a snapshot of the future. the beginning and end also take place present time.
before you continue, did you read the author’s note?? it’s important to understanding the fic!!
Ezra lets out a soft sigh, burying his nose deeper into your chest. You card your fingers through his hair, a soft smile appearing on your lips at the way he leans into your touch.
These moments are your favourite: when the weather outside is too dreary for work, and the two of you curl up together on the small cot you share.
Ezra insists he hates days like this. A day without work is a day without pay, after all. You’d always laugh at his complaints.
“Surely a day in bed with me isn’t that unbearable,” you’d always tease.
“A day in your arms,” He’d reply, pressing a kiss to your lips, “is the only satisfactory substitution for a day’s work.”
Ezra shifts in your embrace until he can reach to brush his lips against your neck. You tilt your head, allowing him easier access.
Ezra begins murmuring against your skin. Between every kiss comes a compliment. You have no idea what most of them mean; you can only guess by the love with which they’re said. “There are,” Ezra kisses you again, “no words,” kiss, “impressive enough to describe you, my Star.”
You slowly sit up, Ezra following suit, not allowing any significant distance to come between the two of you.
You cup Ezra’s cheeks, steadying his face between your hands. Softly, as if he might shatter if you’re not careful, you brush your thumb across his lower lip.
Your lover stares into your eyes, almost as if they are the night sky and he’s searching for constellations. Just as you begin to wonder if he’s lost himself, Ezra breaks the silence, his voice barely more than a breath. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”
“Just thinking about how lucky I am to hold the universe in my hands,” you reply, and as if to prove your point, you pull Ezra into a kiss that is as gentle as it is passionate.
“You are mistaken, Star,” Ezra lifts his hand to your face, desperately wishing he had his other, so he could properly mirror your touch. He places a feather-light kiss to your forehead.
“Oh?” you breathe, preparing yourself to argue when he says that he’s the one holding the universe in his hand. Just as he always says.
But his touch falls from your face. With a feather-like touch, he pulls your right hand from his cheek, turning it to place your palm on your left one. He mirrors it with your left hand.
“Now you hold the universe in your hands,” he whispers with a subtle quiver in his voice.
You drop your arms, lips parting to argue with him; to insist you had it right the first time. But your words catch in your throat when a single tear spills down Ezra’s face.
He tries to swipe it away before you see, but you catch his wrist. “What’s wrong, love?” you dry his cheek with your thumb, allowing your fingertips to linger against his jaw.
You watch the wheels turn in Ezra’s head as he chooses his words. “…Me,” he replies simply.
For a moment, you don’t know how to respond. “…you?”
Ezra nods, pulling away from you to lean against the wall.
“What does that mean?” you try to brush a strand of hair out of Ezra’s face, but he shies away from your touch.
“You deserve… more,” Ezra refuses to look at you.
“I don’t understand,” you search Ezra’s face for clues.
“You deserve someone who can give you everything,” he sniffs, “You deserve more than a forlorn pod and allocating freeze-dried rations.” More tears escape from Ezra’s eyes and drip into his lap.
“Ezra,” you soothe, “I don’t care about any of that.” Ezra opens his mouth to argue, but you continue. “Is it not enough to love each other?” you question, not bothering to wait for an answer. “If I only cared about material possessions, do you think I’d really have stuck around this long? I love you, that’s all I care about.”
Ezra wordlessly stands, shuffling across the floor to rifle through a canvas bag.
“What are you doing?” you sigh. You’re met only with a hollow silence.
After a moment, Ezra returns. He delicately sits beside you, placing a small object in your lap. Your gaze drops to find a stack of well-loved cards.
“Ezra,” you protest, setting the cards aside.
“Please,” the desperation in Ezra’s voice breaks your heart.
“You don’t need a tarot reading to tell you that I love you,” you try to meet Ezra’s eyes, but they’re glued to the floor.
“I just—” Ezra sighs. “Forgive my trepidation, but I need to know… where are we headed? I comprehend that you love me at this moment in our journey, but what about years from now? Will you still be enamoured by me?”
You give in with a sigh, realising that Ezra won’t be satisfied by just your insistence that you’ll always love him.
“I’d like to believe you when you say you love me, but I can’t help but speculate that your judgement may be clouded,” Ezra continues. “Our ceaseless wayfaring, our lamentable career… It’s all beneath you. You deserve better.”
You finish shuffling the cards and lay them in front of you. After taking a moment to examine the spread, you open your mouth to speak.
---
Reversed Ace of Cups
Ezra sat back, frowning at the canvas bag. It was stretched at odd angles, stitches pulled tight. He didn’t even attempt to close it, the zipper would tear right off.
“You’re certain all your possessions fit in here?” he asked. He wasn’t able to fit half your things in the bag, let alone all of them.
“Yes, Ezra, I’m certain it all fits.” You lifted your attention from scrubbing filters to examine Ezra’s progress. Laughing at his lost expression, you crossed the floor to kneel across from him.
“You just have to reorganise so it fits,” you explained, shuffling items around until there was room for more.
Ezra watched your hands dig through the bag. They looked like they’d fit perfectly in his. He watched your eyes analyse your work. Just like they do in the field.
Ezra could tell there was a lifetime of stories behind that gaze. He wondered which story caused that slight frown that only seemed to disappear when you were asleep. Or, perhaps, it was a collection of stories.
“There,” You sat back on your knees.
Ezra dropped his attention to the bag. Everything fit. It was still a bit stretched at the seams, but the zipper would no longer struggle to close.
Something caught Ezra’s eye. He reached in, lifting a deck of cards from the top of the bag’s contents. He removed the string holding them together and spread them out in his hands to admire the art on each of them.
“I, um…” You stuttered, watching Ezra’s fingers trace the worn ink and well-used edges.
“I was not aware that you read tarot,” Ezra murmured with a hint of admiration in his voice.
“Keeps me sane,” you shrugged.
“Would you feel inclined to do a reading for me?” Ezra asked, offering the cards out to you.
Your fingers brushed against his and Ezra’s heart jumped into his throat. The contact only lasted a moment, though, before you began shuffling the cards. You were saying something. Your voice was beautiful. Ezra could listen to you talk forever.
You were staring at him expectantly. Ezra’s face heated up—he hadn’t heard what you said.
“I apologise, I didn’t quite catch that, Star.” He chewed his lip, praying that you didn’t catch on to his train of thought.
You fought the urge to smile at the nickname. Ezra has called you that since the day you met. You always pretended to be annoyed, insisting he use your name. You don’t hate it; you just wish it meant the same thing to him that it did to you.
“I asked if you had a question? For the reading.”
“Oh,” Ezra exclaimed. “My apologies, my cognizance was elsewhere.”
“Yeah, no shit,” you laughed, your usual frown melting away. Ezra’s chest swelled with pride at being the reason you’re so relaxed, despite his embarrassment.
“This assignment is approaching its end,” Ezra took a moment to sweep his gaze across the room that had been your shared home for the last several months. “How should I converge with the coming weeks?”
‘will you stick around?’ Ezra meant to say. But you couldn’t know how he feels. Not yet.
You nodded to acknowledge Ezra’s question before you finish shuffling.
Ezra wasn’t even sure how many cards you laid down.
Even through your concentration, you looked happy. Relaxed.
You began to speak. As you shared your interpretation of the cards, Ezra watched how different emotions transformed your face.
Some of them, he had seen before; the passionate look you get when you talk about the stars, the way your brows furrow in an excited concentration. He only saw your eyes light up like this on occasion; at night, usually. When it was too dark to work but neither of you are quite ready to go to sleep, so you settle on opposite ends of the bed, each doing your own thing. He’d sometimes watch you from the corner of his eye, and when you thought he wasn’t looking, you’d glance up at him with that same look in your eye, Ezra had always wondered what it meant, but has never dared ask for fear you’d stop letting him see it. It was a look that felt rare and intimate. As if only those who you’d trust with your life would ever have the privilege of seeing it.
But some of those expressions, Ezra had never seen on your face. The way you looked when you paused for a breath, it was as if you were doing so much more than interpreting the message the cards were telling you; you were the connection between this reality and the next, watching a story unfold and telling Ezra what he needed to know to make it his reality.
Your expressions confirmed what your words were telling him: everything was about to change. His lifestyle. His relationship with you. Everything.
It should have scared Ezra. But this was the safest, the calmest, Ezra had felt in a long time.
You fell silent, finished with your reading. You searched Ezra’s face for a reaction.
“I love you,” Ezra blurted out before he could stop himself.
Your jaw dropped. “Ezra, I—” You didn’t know what to say.
“I understand if my feelings are not reciprocated. And I apologise if this puts you in a vexatious position, I assure you, that was not my intention.” Ezra paused, wringing his hands together. “I simply needed you to be aware of my feelings towards you.”
You didn’t know how to respond. A million words sat at the tip of your tongue, but none of them seemed right. With each passing second, Ezra could feel his stomach drop further and further into the floor.
“Oh,” Ezra breathed, taking your silence as rejection. He backed away, shoulders threatening to collapse around him. Tears stung at the backs of his eyes. His stomach was turning. How could he be so stupid as to think you’d fall in love with a man like him?
You dove forward suddenly, pulling his face toward yours, your lips crashing against his. It took Ezra a moment to register your actions, and another to react. He was soon pulling you into his chest in a bruising embrace, his lips engulfed yours in a way that was almost overwhelming. Ezra let out a soft moan when your fingers found his hair. His nose bumped yours and his breath tasted like the stale, nearly unbearable rations you’d been living off of for months, but you didn’t care—yours probably wasn’t much better.
The kiss was rushed, desperate. Your teeth kept hitting his. He couldn’t decide where on your body he wanted his hands to be.
You finally broke away for a breath. “I love you too,” you whispered into Ezra’s lips.
___
Reversed Judgement
It’s been years since that night. You’d gone through everything together; Ezra nursed you back to health when you got sick, you’d taken care of him when he, inevitably, caught whatever you had. It’s been ages since you stopped counting how many times you’d stitched each other’s wounds. You’d been there for him when he lost his arm, he’d been by your side for every injury of your own. It has never been a question that you have each other’s backs.
Ezra smiles softly. You’re so beautiful like this. The way your eyes light up as you speak, as if you’re a prospector who has just uncovered a valuable gem. It’s an expression Ezra has seen a million times, but his heart aches to see it a million more.
But his smile quickly fades. You’re happy right now. But how long until you realise you deserve better? You don’t deserve this life. You deserve more than a creaky pod and a lumpy cot much too small for one person, let alone two.
And what about the loss of his arm? The jobs Ezra can take now are restricted, the people who will hire him even more so. In bed, he can hardly figure out what to do with himself. You keep insisting that it’s okay, that he’ll learn. But how long are you willing to wait?
Ezra closes his eyes and listens to your voice; it’s his favourite sound. And the passion behind it now, during a reading? It’s overwhelming.
Ezra wants the rest of his life to be spent by your side. He can’t stop thinking about his future with you. Will you settle down together? Or spend the rest of your lives travelling the galaxy together? He’s not sure which he wants more. But either way, he can’t imagine a story for himself that doesn’t include growing old with you. If he’s honest with himself, Ezra can’t even remember a time he’s thought so much about the future. It’s always been about now. About surviving to see tomorrow.
Why does that have to change now that he’s in love? Why is he suddenly afraid of the future?
You’re happy now. Your kisses, the way you seek Ezra out even in your sleep, how your hand finds his almost constantly, proves how happy you are.
Ezra’s never been this happy. He’s never known someone who makes him feel so safe. Around you, Ezra can put his guard down. He doesn’t have to be so cryptic all the time. With you, Ezra can just exist.
Ezra’s hand finds its way into his pocket. His fingers wrap around a small stone.
He watches your hands accentuate each point you make. Ezra loves your hands. Especially your right hand; it’s the one he gets to hold when you walk beside him. It fits so perfectly in his. He loves the way your hands bury themselves in his hair when you kiss him. He loves how gentle they are when you’re patching him up. He pretends to hate it when you slip your hands under his shirt when you notice how cold they are just so you can press them against his chest and laugh at him when he squirms. Ezra loves that laugh.
He fidgets with the gem. He’s forgotten exactly how long it’s been there, though he remembers the day he got it as if it were yesterday. It was one of your first digs together. The gem was too small to be worth anything. So Ezra pocketed the stone, and it’s become a bit of an extension of himself.
Ezra watches your lips move in sync with your words. He loves your lips. The way they taste against his. The way they trace along his jaw when you’re teasing. Ezra’s kissed you a million times, and yet he always yearns for another.
“My Star,” he’d always say whenever you noted that he could never seem to stop kissing you, “a single touch shared with you could console even the most pained of men. And therefore, what motivation do I have to add to the distance between us?”
My Star. Ezra’s called you that… Forever. Ezra loves your name. But to call you his Star is a privilege only he has. Every time he says it, he remembers the countless times the two of you have laid on the ground, examining the night sky in search of constellations. No matter where you are, you always find a way to stargaze.
Through the window of your shared pod.
Passing glances through your helmet when the air outside isn’t safe to breathe.
But by far, Ezra’s favourite is when the air outside is breathable so you pull him outside to lay on the ground, held in each other’s embrace.
On those nights, you’ll continue to talk about the stars long after Ezra’s coaxed you inside to bed. He loves to fall asleep to the sound of your voice in one ear, the rhythm of your heartbeat in the other. Those nights fill Ezra’s chest with a lightness that washes away years of trauma.
But tonight, the stars are hidden behind a veil of clouds. Rain echoes through the trees outside. It reminds Ezra of the nights you’re curled under threadbare blankets and you’re whispering sweet nothings in Ezra’s ear.
Ezra smiles at this. Rainy days are his favourite. It stresses him that he often can’t work on those days, though in your company, that stress quickly melts away.
Ezra is never happier than when he’s with you.
___
Ten of Cups
“Star,” Ezra calls out to you.
You’re on your knees, elbow-deep in a sticky black mud. “Yeah?” you grunt back, nearly toppling forward into the mud in your distraction.
“The spoils of these pits appear to already have been claimed, and the sun is beginning to set.” Ezra sits back on his knees, pulling his arm from his own mud pit. “I suppose it’s time we get cleaned up for the remainder day.”
Ezra stifles a laugh at your disgusted grimace when you free your arms from the mud. After a brief examination of the sun-streaked sky, you let out a frustrated huff, pushing yourself to your feet.
“Yeah,” you give in. You have to resist the urge to wipe your hands on your clothing. You accept Ezra’s outstretched hand, lacing your fingers in his.
The stream isn’t far away—close enough that its inviting babbling has called out to you and Ezra all day.
Ezra leads you hand-in-hand to the edge of the murky water. He sinks to his knees first, wasting no time in submerging his arm into the icy liquid to wash away the itchy layers of chemically contaminated mud.
With a desperate splash, you follow close behind.
It’s jobs like these that makes Ezra wish gloves were a luxury the two of you could afford. But gloves strong enough to not break down upon contact with the mud would cost a fortune to buy and would require frequent replacements.
And so, after a long day buried in the acidic material, your arms are left itchy and raw. Ezra frantically rubs his forearm back and forth over a rock just below the surface of the water in a desperate attempt to wash himself clean, and, perhaps relieve some of the painful itch. If he notices the blood staining the water, he doesn’t care; in this moment, the temporary relief overpowers the regret that will later come from allowing the rock to break through his skin.
Ezra startles when your hands close around his wrist. Gently, You begin rubbing away the mud with your already clean hands. You’re conscious to take extra care around the steady trickle of blood.
“You’ll only make it worse like that,” you murmur, focusing your attention on making sure no mud is left under Ezra’s fingernails.
“Thank you,” Ezra closes his eyes in pleasure when you begin massaging his raw skin under the cloudy water to remove the last traces of mud.
“Mhm,” you reply absentmindedly and pull his hand from the water.
Ezra stands, hoisting you to your feet and pulling you into your shared pod.
You help each other dry off and spread an ointment over each other’s arms that makes tears of relief spring to Ezra’s eyes. After stripping yourselves free of your dirty clothes, Ezra collapses onto the cot, pulling you into his chest.
You shift until your head is resting on his shoulder and your body is curled around Ezra’s side leaving his arm free to reach what he needs to.
This position makes it difficult for Ezra to wrap his arm around you, but after a long day of work, neither one of you wants to move if he needs to reach something from the rusty bedside table.
You wrap your arms around your lover’s neck. Reflexively, Ezra’s fingers lift to find yours. He silently fidgets with the thin metal band around your finger, which had been returned to its rightful place upon arrival at the pod.
The pads of his fingers trace over the small gem embedded in the metal. Ezra smiles, remembering the cold winter’s day you’d finally said “I do.”
A soft chuckle escapes Ezra’s throat as he recalls the night you’d agreed to marry him, despite the many years you’d spent telling him about your distaste for the idea of being married.
“What’s that about?” you ask, not seeing a reason to laugh.
“I’m so fortunate to have you, Star,” Ezra whispers back, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” You murmur and lean up to press a kiss to Ezra’s jaw, at the same place you always do; the little patch in his scruff, where Ezra seems unable to grow any hair.
You love those spots on either side of his face. “They’re built in places for me to kiss,” you’d always insist whenever Ezra was feeling insecure about his patchy stubble.
“Still?” Ezra asks. “You still love me after all these years?”
“Why not?” You can’t think of a single thing Ezra has ever done that might make you rethink your feelings. Sure, he has his habits that never fail to get on your nerves. But, if anything, that makes you love him all the more.
“You’re not growing exhausted by my presence?”
“How could I ever get bored of you?” You sit up enough to meet Ezra’s gaze. “I love you more than anything. If I didn’t, what reason would I have to follow you on all these jobs and crazy ideas you get to make a living?” You caress Ezra’s cheek with your knuckles. “Ezra, I stay because I love you. Those feelings are never going to change. And, if they do, it will be because I’ve fallen further in love with you. If that’s even possible.”
“What did I do to deserve you?” Ezra smiles softly.
You let out a hum of contemplation. “I’m just here for the kisses,” you tease, placing a brief peck on his lips.
Ezra hums contentedly, and you snuggle back into his chest. After a few moments of a loving stillness, Ezra’s fingers find their way back to yours to toy with your ring.
“Do you remember the night I gave this to you?” Ezra whispers, tracing circles over the tiny gem.
“How could I forget?” You whisper back.
___
You finish your reading and lift your eyes to gauge Ezra’s reaction. A small smile tugs at his lips, but he doesn’t respond.
Silently, Ezra rises to his feet, gathering the cards and stowing them back in your bag.
“Lay down,” Ezra commands. With a grunt, he pulls a strange machine from under the cot. You obey, too curious to argue. Ezra shoves the machine to the centre of the floor.
Ezra switches off the lamp, plunging the tent into absolute darkness. “My mother had one of these when I was a child,” Ezra explains, “I had to construct this one from scrap parts, so it’s not as impressive as the one I grew up with.” With a soft click, the machine turns on and the ceiling is decorated with small flecks of light.
Ezra continues to explain, but you’ve already figured it out. “It’s the stars on Wehouf,” you interrupt with a gasp. Wehouf was where you first met Ezra.
Ezra lays on the cot beside you, wrapping you into a firm embrace.
“You built this for me?” you murmur in disbelief. How did he find time to work on this without you noticing?
“Took me two years,” Ezra presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “The majority of the parts I required aren’t easy to come by in the green.”
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“The entire time I was assembling it, I couldn’t help but meditate over how intensely I feel for you. I never thought I was capable of these feelings. When we first met, you were nothing more than an associate on an endeavour to make a living. I’m not certain when I fell in love,” Ezra’s hand slips under your shirt and he begins tracing gentle circles against your skin with his fingertips. “I don’t think I ever stopped falling. I don’t believe I ever want to. I crave to spend my whole lifetime by your side. I want to chart the view of the stars from every planet, every moon. And I want to do it with your hand in mine.”
“Ezra, I—” You start.
“You could count every single star in the sky, and still only know a fraction of the love I feel for you,” Ezra continues. “And I know you’ve expressed a distaste for it in the past,” Ezra shifts to pull the tiny gem from his pocket. Gently, he slips the metal band around your finger. A perfect fit. “But, I was hoping you’d consider marrying me? I wouldn’t expect it to be legal if that’s not what you want, but—”
“Of course I’ll marry you, Ezra,” You interrupt, shifting to meet his gaze. “I love you more than anything. If it makes you happy, of course, I’ll marry you. And besides, we’re out here alone a solid 98% of the time. So marriage can be whatever we want it to be. Right?”
Ezra breathes a sigh of relief. He wasn’t afraid of you saying no, per se, but he was terrified the question would make you uncomfortable and perhaps cause you to push him away.
“I know I can be an arduous man to love sometimes,” Ezra begins to tear up. “And I still think you deserve better than me. But, you make me exultant beyond any doubt, and you seem content by my side as well. I can’t promise that things will be perfect, because they most certainly won’t. But I will love you eternally, with every fibre of my being. And that, Star, is a promise.”
“Oh, Ezra,” you whisper, “I don’t expect things to always be perfect. I’ve lived with you long enough to know that life will go to shit. A lot. But I’ve also lived with you long enough to know it always ends up okay.” You rest your forehead against Ezra’s. “You deserve more than you think you do. I know you’ve made mistakes. Fuck, I’ve watched you make some seriously questionable decisions. To the point where I sometimes wonder how you’re still alive. But you have more love in this little tuft of hair than most people have in their whole body.” You gently tug on Ezra’s little blond patch of hair to emphasize your point. “And that’s all I care about.” You finish with a brief but passionate kiss.
Ezra doesn’t know how to respond. Tears threaten to escape down his cheeks. “Fuck,” he sobs, pulling you closer until your nose is buried in his neck. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Ezra,” you hum.
Your fingers begin to toy with the ring on your finger. “How’d you manage to get this?” Ezra doesn’t even have to see to know what you’re talking about.
“The gem is from one of our first digs together,” He explains. “It was too diminutive to sell, but I couldn’t bring myself to dispose of it. I got it fixed with a ring two planets back.”
“That must’ve cost a fortune,” you say, suddenly feeling a bit guilty that he felt the need to do such a thing to please you. Sufficient jewellers aren’t easy to find this far out, and because of that, it can be quite expensive to so much as repair a simple ring.
“Nearly depleted my personal savings,” Ezra answers. “But I couldn’t think of a superior way to spend it; now whenever my gaze falls upon your hand, I am reminded of our years spent in each other’s presence.”
“You didn’t have to,” you kiss the soft skin at Ezra’s neck. “I’d have married you without it.”
“Do you not like it?” Ezra asks with a touch of panic to his voice.
“Oh, I love it,” you reassure. Ezra visibly relaxes. “I love everything you get for me.” You pull the ring off your finger to inspect it as you talk. It’s a simple band, with just enough width to have room for the gem embedded in the smooth metal. Upon closer examination, you find a tiny engraving inside. ‘I love you, my Star.’ “I love everything you do for me,” you turn your head to admire the speckles of light above you. You return the ring to your finger. “I always will. Just know I don’t expect to be spoiled. I enjoy it, but your love is enough for me.”
“I know, my Star,” Ezra sighs. “I can’t provide you the life of luxury you deserve. I enjoy doing what I can to make up for it.”
“I have everything I want right here.” You snuggle deeper into Ezra’s chest to admire the stars projected across the ceiling.
He doesn’t respond. For a few moments, the only sounds are the rain, the soft whirring of the star machine, and your breaths combined with Ezra’s. You never saw yourself in this position. But Ezra has a way of turning the lives of those around him upside down. And for you, it somehow feels right.
“I love you, my Star.”
“I love you too, Ezra.”
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A Blacklist Secret Santa
Sending out the very best wishes for a wonderful festive season to @reddingtonsplace. I am your Blacklist Secret Santa and I offer you a brand new Lizzington fic which I sincerely hope you enjoy. It’s chock full of flirting, Christmas-related fluff and an eventful undercover operation.
Thanks, as always, to the organisers of this event. I look forward to it every year and really appreciate the effort you put in to facilitate so much great new content.
Now, on with the story!
Title: Precious Time by Melacka
Rating: T (for suggestive comments only)
Word Count: 2210
Summary: Red had been so wired after their little undercover jaunt that when he returned to the safe house he couldn’t think of anything but Lizzy. He knew that if he left her to her own devices at this critical juncture, the most likely outcome was that she would turn herself inside out trying to rationalise her actions and then seek to distance herself. He couldn’t allow that to happen, not this time.
Or, after an untimely interruption halts an intimate moment undercover, Red seeks Liz out to talk it over.
You can read it on AO3 here or keep reading below.
Liz took a careful sip of her champagne and tried to focus on what the man sitting next to her was saying. Unfortunately, she was having some trouble concentrating. She couldn’t remember his name, or why he was sitting next to her, or what information she was trying to extract from him. Unfortunately, she was also having trouble remembering what name she was supposed to be using or what her cover was. When she’d agreed to go undercover with Red at this event, she hadn’t anticipated that he would introduce her as his wife or that he would spend most of the night touching her. When they were dancing, he pulled her close into him and encouraged her to lean against his shoulder, claiming that it would help her not to think too much about the steps and just enjoy the dance. He was right, of course, which Liz chose to keep to herself. When he introduced her to various people, he managed to keep in touch with some part of her body at all times. And now, he had one arm draped over the back of her chair and his fingers were tracing gentle patterns on her back. It had been like that all evening. It was nothing inappropriate, of course, but it was so deliberate, so casually intimate, that even she was starting to believe that they were lovers.
If only, she thought and then shook her head slightly. Get a grip, Liz.
“You disagree, Clarice?” her mystery man said, sounding surprised.
Liz snapped her attention back to her conversation partner and favoured him with a wide smile. She had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
“Oh, not at all!” Liz said breezily, trying to cover her confusion with charm. “I don’t know how anyone could disagree!”
“Quite right,” Red murmured from her other side. “Clarice, my dear, may I borrow you for a moment?”
“Of course, Raymond,” Liz said demurely. “Would you excuse us?”
Red stood and offered her his arm. She placed her hand on his elbow and remained close by his side as they exited the room.
“You seem distracted this evening,” Red murmured, when they were far enough away from the other guests to speak in relative privacy. “Anything I can help with?”
“Yes,” Liz sighed, “remind me who I’m talking to again.”
“That gentleman is Jackson Nicholls, useful for his connections but otherwise uninteresting. He’s a small fish in a rather large pond, Lizzy, you don’t need to worry if you find his conversation less than scintillating.”
“Oh, thank God.” Liz threw a glance over her shoulder and then steered Red further away from the crowd. “By the way,” she said, turning to look at him with an eyebrow raised. “Clarice?”
“You don’t like it?” he asked innocently. “I thought that it was curiously appropriate.”
“Appropriate?” Liz scoffed. “Do me a favour and never ever tell me your reasoning for that.”
“Are you feeling alright, Lizzy?” Red asked, caught somewhere between amusement and concern. “You’ve been distracted all night and now you’re telling me not to explain myself.”
Liz laughed softly and reached a hand up to adjust his bowtie. It was perfectly straight, of course, she was just wound so tight that she felt the need for some kind of contact.
“I’m fine, Raymond.”
“You’ve been calling me Raymond an awful lot this evening.”
“Is there something else you’d like me to call you, Raymond?” she said playfully.
“Not at all,” he replied quickly, pulling her in a fraction closer. “I like to hear you say it.”
“What a coincidence.”
“Coincidence?”
“Oh yes,” Liz said, slipping her hands around his waist and smiling when his eyes widened. “I’ve found that I quite like saying it, as well. It has a certain ring to it, wouldn’t you agree? And there’s just something so pleasurable about the way it feels in my mouth.”
Red gaped and Liz felt a little flutter in her stomach at her daring.
“Lizzy—”
“Raymond,” she purred as she hugged him tightly. “Raymond.” She lifted her face to his. “Raymond.”
“Raymond!” a voice called out jovially and Liz froze. “There you two are! Sneaking off at a party like a couple of teenagers, I don’t know what’s gotten into you!”
Red sent an irritated glare towards the intruder but otherwise didn’t move. Liz recognised him as one of the men who worked for their host and had a sudden thrill of fear that they had been found out.
“Although, with a beautiful woman like that on offer, I can’t say I blame you. Clarice, isn’t it? A pleasure to meet you.”
“Isaac,” Red said gruffly. “Was there something you needed?”
“I’m sorry, have I interrupted something important?”
Liz only just managed to stop herself from shouting out that yes, he had very much interrupted something important.
“You don’t sound especially worried by your interruption, Isaac,” Red said smoothly. “And you still haven’t given the reason for it.”
“Dinner is almost ready to be served,” Isaac continued, still staring avidly at Liz. “Your absence was a point of some concern for our host.”
“Naturally.” Red sounded annoyed but when he turned his attention back to Liz, his tone was considerably softer. “Sweetheart, are you ready to re-join the party?”
“Of course, darling,” Liz murmured, pressing a teasing kiss to his neck, chuckling at the shiver that passed through him at the contact. “Anything you want.”
Red closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers briefly before he pulled away and gestured for her to precede him out of the room.
“You lucky dog!” Isaac cried, slapping Red on the back as he passed.
Red looked murderous, Liz just smiled and walked away.
Early the next morning, Raymond Reddington held his breath as he watched Liz enter the small café. She scanned the room quickly as she unwound the scarf from her neck and unbuttoned her coat. She froze when she noticed him, and it would have been comical if Red didn’t have so much riding on this meeting. He relaxed somewhat when he saw the slight softening around her lips, barely the hint of a smile, but Red was prepared to take what he could get.
He’d barely slept at all the night before and he'd already had two cups of coffee this morning to compensate. He’d been so wired after their little undercover jaunt that when he returned to the safe house he couldn’t think of anything but Lizzy. They hadn’t uncovered any useful intel about the Blacklister they were chasing, but their evening left Red with so much to consider. So many possibilities seemed to open up before him, but he felt like he needed to move fast before Lizzy slammed the door in his face. He knew that if he left her to her own devices at this critical juncture, the most likely outcome was that she would turn herself inside out trying to rationalise her actions and then seek to distance herself. He couldn’t allow that to happen, not this time.
He tried to regulate his breathing as Liz wove her way through the tables and chairs towards where he sat alone. He summoned his best carefree smile as she came to a stop directly in front of him.
“Lizzy, fancy meeting you here!”
Liz raised an eyebrow at him but otherwise remained impassive as she spoke.
“Considering the fact that I live just around the corner from this place, I’d say that it’s far more likely that I’ll be here than you, Red.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that! This is fast becoming one of my favourite haunts.”
“Really?” Liz said dryly, her eyes flicking quickly to his lips before she raised them to glance carelessly around the room. “I guess it’s time for me to find a new local, then.”
“You wound me, Lizzy,” Red sighed dramatically, and Liz grinned. “Care to join me? They have some rather delicious looking items on their menu.”
“Well—” Liz began, looking hesitant. “It’s just that I wasn’t expecting to see you today. It’s supposed to be my day off.”
“I’m not here to work,” Red said calmly. “This is purely a social visit, I assure you.”
She hesitated for a moment more before she shrugged and pulled out the chair across from him, draping her coat carefully over the back.
“Well, now that we’re both here, we may as well make the most of it.”
“Exactly! Let us make the most of our opportunities before they completely pass us by.”
Liz shot him a suspicious look but merely said, “Are you sure I’m not going to be disturbing your plans by joining you?”
“I am, as you know, a very busy man, Lizzy.” Liz snorted at this but Red continued speaking unperturbed, “But your company is always welcome.”
“What a relief,” she said dryly as she reached over to steal the menu from under his hand.
“Looking to try something new, Lizzy?”
“Hmm,” she said, sounding non-committal. “I’ve been thinking that it’s about time for some pretty drastic change in my life. May as well start with my breakfast order.”
“That’s awfully philosophical of you for so early in the day.”
“I can manage it occasionally. What are you getting?”
“I was thinking of getting a range of options,” Red said, watching her face carefully to gauge her reaction. “Perhaps we could share.”
“Sounds great,” Liz said immediately. “Just make sure none of the options are pancakes.”
“Your drastic change doesn’t reach to pancakes?”
“Ugh, no!” Liz said, laughing a little even as she sounded indignant. “The change that needs to come is for the things I can actually stomach. I’m not looking to punish myself by introducing pancakes to my diet.”
“Well, I’m relieved to hear that you’re not seeking to punish yourself,” Red said quietly as he gestured to the waitress.
Liz watched him in silence as he seemed to order at least three quarters of the menu. His enthusiasm made her smile, and she hadn’t quite managed to subdue it before he looked up at her again.
“Something amusing?” he asked lightly.
“Many things,” she said vaguely. “I was just admiring your enthusiasm, though we may need to move to a bigger table to fit all that food. Just how long are you planning to sit here? It’ll take a few hours to work your way through it all, won’t it?”
“I am always in favour of a leisurely breakfast. When the food is good, the day is fine and the company delightful, what more could I need?”
“Speaking of need,” Liz began slowly.
“Oh, you do intrigue me, Lizzy,” Red interrupted her smoothly. “Do tell.”
“I’ve been trying to decide what to get you for Christmas, actually,” Liz said in a rush. “And I was trying to think if there was anything you needed.”
“Lizzy!” Red cried, delighted. “How kind of you to think of me, but you must know that it is completely unnecessary.”
“It may not be necessary, but I’d still like to get you something,” Liz said quietly, fingering the tablecloth in front of her and avoiding his eyes. “But what could I possibly give you that you haven’t already got?”
“Are you looking for suggestions, Lizzy?” A wicked grin spread across his face as he continued, “I can think of a few things.”
“Oh?” she prompted, looking wary. “Such as?”
“Well, I’ve always preferred the personal touch when it comes to gifts. I can, of course, obtain any material object I desire with very little difficulty, but something a little more personal, Lizzy?” He leaned back in his chair and sighed wistfully. “Priceless.”
“The personal touch, huh?” Liz said, eyeing him speculatively. “And just what kind of personal touch would you appreciate?”
Red dearly wanted to tell her that any personal touch from her would be like water to a dying man but thought that she may not appreciate such a sentiment so early in the day. At least, not until she’d had some coffee and something to eat.
“There is nothing more precious than time,” he said instead.
“Time?” Liz echoed, sounding unconvinced. “You just want—”
“Quality time, Elizabeth. No subterfuge, no Blacklisters, no distractions.”
Liz bit her lip as she searched his face eagerly. After a tense moment of silence, a broad smile spread across her face.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay,” Liz said again. “Let’s spend some time together, for Christmas.”
The waitress chose that moment to bring the first of their many dishes to the table, so Red was able to take a moment to compose himself.
“Well, Lizzy, that sounds wonderful,” he said eventually, managing to keep his voice almost entirely steady. “I hope you will allow me to get you a Christmas gift as well.”
“The gift of time not enough for you?” Liz teased.
“Lizzy, it’s very tiresome when you use my words against me like that.”
“Is it? Well, I’m sure we’ll think of something you can give me, Red.”
“Lizzy—”
“Raymond,” Liz said. “Just eat your breakfast. We’re going to be here for hours as it is.”
Red smiled and raised his coffee cup to her in a toast.
“Precious time, Lizzy, it’s all the better for being spent with you.”
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We Will Carry the Weight Together
I wrote a companion to my fic “For Family.” You can read it below or over on my ao3 here.
Nicolò de Genova was asleep and because he was sleeping, he was dreaming of Yusuf.
Some nights, his mind was kind to him and he dreamt of Yusuf’s smiles, the feel of his fingers going through Nicolò’s hair, his body lying close to his own. Those dreams were difficult to wake from, as he would wake alone.
Other nights, he was not so lucky.
He saw their final moments before they were separated. He would see Yusuf’s wide eyes, him struggling against the hands pulling him away, his screams declaring his love. And all Nicolò could scream back was his love’s name.
It was difficult to remember those moments. Those mornings, Nicolò awoke cursing himself, wishing for the millionth time he had at least said those words back. Nicolò had Yusuf’s declaration echoing in his mind, even after centuries.
Yusuf was alone out there in the dark ocean with nothing but screams.
Nicolò knew immediately when something changed, because he started dreaming of someone other than Yusuf. He saw the man fight, saw him leave the battlefield, saw him hang. Gasped to awakening as the man gasped back to life.
There was another immortal.
He might see Yusuf in his dreams.
Immediately, Nicolò pulled up anchor and angled his boat towards shore.
_____________________________________
Sebastien le Livre looked like a man who needed rest. It wasn’t difficult to convince him to go back to sleep. Nicolò settled into the main room with Andy and Quynh and half listened to the tales of what they had been doing since they had last met, while focusing on the bedroom and any noises that may come from it.
He didn’t have to wait long.
There was a rustle followed by the sound of someone losing the contents of their stomach. All three immortals rushed to the bedroom.
One look at Sebastien and Nicolò knew what had made him ill.
“You saw Yusuf, didn’t you,” Nicolò said, but he wasn’t truly asking. Andy glanced up at Nicolò as she cleaned the floor, then exited the room, taking the soiled cloth with her. Nicolò had eyes only for Sebastien, who stared at him, then nodded.
“He was with you… You both died so many times. Then…”
He didn’t need to go on. Both men knew what had come next.
“He was taken from me. I’ve been looking ever since,” Nicolò told him.
“When was that?” Sebastien asked.
It hurt Nicolò to say. “1614.”
“Over two hundred years?! He’s been down there for - oh God,” Sebastien said, looking ill once more.
Desperation welled in Nicolò’s stomach. “Please, is there anything you can tell me from the dream? You saw him, yes, but what was around him? Try to remember,” he said, trying to keep his tone soft. He knew he was asking much of this man, but Sebastien was experiencing a fraction of the torment Yusuf was. If he could give Nicolò any clue to where Yusuf might be, both their suffering could end.
Sebatien closed his eyes as he spoke. “The coffin was covered in rust. The chains as well. It was dark and cold and -” he broke off, shuddering.
Nicolò felt the crushing weight of disappointment bear down upon him. He couldn’t bear to make the man in front of him see how disheartened he was at the lack of information and dropped his head to hide his face.
A moment later, he gathered himself.
“Let’s get you some tea,” Nicolò said, standing.
Nicolò was struck with a pang of affection for Andy and Quynh when they got to the kitchen. Tea was waiting for them on the table, alcohol added to Sebastien’s mug. They all collapsed into their chairs.
“He saw Yusuf,” Quynh said.
Nicolò nodded, then let out a breath, putting his head in his hands. He closed his eyes and saw his love in his mind’s eye, smiling, screaming, smiling, screaming.
“Nicolò, Nicolò, I love you! My love! Nicolò!”
“At the very least,” he said, his voice muffled as he spoke towards the floor, “we know he is still alive.”
Andy nodded. “For now, that is enough.”
______________________________________________
Nicolò hated to stop searching for Yusuf to sleep, let alone for weeks at a time. He tried not to think of how many more times Yusuf died as he was eating with the others, sparring with Quynh, getting to know Sebastien. But he needed to know if Sebastien could give him any clue as to where Yusuf could be. He continued to dream of Yusuf, but didn’t have any useful details to help Nicolò’s search. Nicolò himself slept sparingly.
Then one morning, the day before Nicolò planned to return to his boat, Sebastien burst into the kitchen where Nicolò had been whittling, a manic look in his eyes.
“What is it? Is it Yusuf? Does he live?” Nicolò asked, standing.
Sebastien crossed to him, grinning widely, and clasped Nicolò’s hands between his own. “Nicolò, I felt him breathe.”
Nicolò didn’t understand.
“I felt him breathe air,” Sebastien clarified.
Nicolò blinked. Once. Twice. Then his eyes widened as the significance hit him. Air. Yusuf had breathed air.
“He is out?” he asked, unable to believe it.
“I felt the moment his head broke the surface. I felt his first free breath. He is out of that cage. He is free,” Sebastien said, his eyes wet.
“Santa Maria, Madre di Dio,” Nicolò whispered, his own eyes welling with tears.
Yusuf was out.
He pulled Sebastien into him, not caring that they were more acquaintances than friends, let alone family. This man had just given the best gift he could be given: the confirmation that his love was on his way back to him. Because now that Yusuf was free, there was no way they wouldn’t find their way back to each other.
He felt a hand on his back and turned to see Andy and Quynh through his tears, concern and fear in their eyes.
“He is out, he is free,” Nicolò sobbed. Quynh’s face crumpled and she cried out as she threw her arms around him. Andy breathed deeply in, maybe for the first time since she had heard of Yusuf’s fate, before she joined their embrace.
They pulled back to look at each other, smiling through their tears.
Sebastien grabbed glasses and a bottle of wine from the kitchen, filling them.
“A toast,” he said, handing them around. “To Yusuf’s freedom!”
Nicolò lifted his glass and gave a silent toast before he drank.
To seeing Yusuf again.
______________________________________
The next few days were an exercise of patience and agony. When Sebastien finally saw where Yusuf was on land, Nicolò was already packed and ready to leave. Luckily, the others were as well. They pushed the horses hard before trading them for fresh ones, never stopping their journey.
It was nighttime when they arrived at the village Yusuf had found. Nicolò’s heart was pounding harder than the horses’ hooves as they approached the farmhouse Sebastien had seen in his dreams.
He was there.
Yusuf.
The small fire illuminated his features and Nicolò scanned each part of him, trying to see if he had misremembered anything over the centuries apart but no, those were his eyes, his smile, his figure as he stood. He was gaunter, his cheeks somewhat sunken, but he was there.
A noise emerged from Nicolò’s chest that encapsulated all the love and fear he had felt these last two hundred years, as well as the ecstasy of seeing his love again. He reined in his horse and jumped off before he sprinted towards Yusuf. His arms reached before him, desperate to feel Yusuf within them.
There was that grin again.
Then Yusuf was running too, arms outstretched.
They crashed back together.
Finally, Yusuf was in his arms. Him, his smell, his beard tickling Nicolò’s neck, his body, thin as it might be. Nicolò felt suddenly lighter than he had been in two hundred years, holding Yusuf to his chest.
He also could not stop crying.
“Nicolò, amore mio, habibi, I knew you’d find me,” he heard Yusuf say as he pulled him impossibly close.
Nicolò nodded into Yusuf’s neck, unable to speak yet.
Yusuf whispered to him, switching from one language to the next. “Ya amar, I knew we would be reunited again. Thoughts of you kept me sane, knowing you would never stop looking for me. I am here, amore mio, breathe. I am back where I belong.”
Nicolò remembered he had something to say. The words he had been waiting to say for over two hundred years. He pulled back enough to see Yusuf’s beautiful brown eyes, the laugh lines that never faded, even after centuries of death.
“I love you,” he declared. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it then.”
It wasn’t the grandest declaration of love he had given Yusuf. But in its simplicity lay its truth.
“Oh, ya hayati,” Yusuf said. He gathered Nicolò close to his chest once more and Nicolò focused on the heartbeats he could feel in time with his own. “You may not have said the words then, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t hear them. They are engraved into my heart, my very soul. I was never without them.”
Yusuf turned towards the others, greeting them in turn, but at all times, kept hold of Nicolò’s hand. Nicolò could feel the tremors there, the only sign that Yusuf wasn’t as okay as he was pretending to be as he hugged and talked to the others.
It was only when he stepped back into Nicolò's chest and Nicolò wrapped his arms around his waist that the tremors stopped.
________________________________________
Yusuf had continued to show the others a version of himself that was fine. But Nicolò had felt how tightly Yusuf had held him while trying to sleep and had felt him startle awake, sitting straight up in their bed as he gasped for breath. Some nights, after Nicolò held him for a while, he could get back to sleep. Other times, they would get up together, even though Yusuf protested that Nicolò could sleep, and spent the time before the others awoke alone with one another. They would talk. They would be silent. They would hold each other. They would be close by.
They took it day by day, but Nicolò knew that Yusuf needed more to begin to heal from his experience.
So they left. Where they were didn’t matter, only that they were together.
They walked around the cottage the team had used as a haven a few times before. Nicolò reacquainted himself with the small space as Yusuf saw it for the first time. They ate, talking little. Night fell and still, Yusuf didn’t let down his guard, even though it was only Nicolò around.
Nicolò could stand it no longer. He went to where Yusuf was sitting, drawing absentmindedly on the page. Upside down, Nicolò was almost certain he recognized his own eyebrow. He held out a hand, which Yusuf immediately took and rose until they were chest to chest. Nicolò stroked a hand down the side of Yusuf’s face, reveling in the contrast of soft skin and curled beard.
“We are alone now, habib albi,” he said, making eye contact so Yusuf would understand him. “You don’t have to hide from me.”
Yusuf froze where he stood. “Nicolò… it is too much. I cannot put that weight upon you.”
“Amore mio, every day without you weighed me down. Now we are together? That heaviness is gone. I would gladly take some of the weight of your anguish.”
Nicolò held both of Yusuf’s hands in his own and brought them to his lips. “Yusuf, you don’t have to carry it alone. I am here. I love you. And we will get through this together.”
And so Yusuf told him. He spoke of the dark and the water invading his lungs. Of the cold. Of how he held on to his memories of Nicolò when he gasped awake and held him in his heart as he died. Tears fell unheeded down his cheeks and into his beard, but Nicolò kissed them away, holding him close.
One day, Nicolò hoped that his love’s agony would be a distant memory. For now, his heart broke in the face of Yusuf’s torment, but kept murmuring reassurances that they were together, he loved Yusuf so much, they would face this together.
Finally, Yusuf stopped speaking. His head lowered to rest on Nicolò’s shoulder as he sighed.
“What can I do for you, amore mio?” Nicolò asked.
Yusuf let out another deep, shuddering sigh, then looked up at him with red, puffy eyes. “Bed?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Nicolò nodded and pulled them to their feet. Once there, he paused, then lifted Yusuf under his legs. Yusuf’s arms came around his shoulders and his legs around his waist. Nicolò carried him towards the bedroom, laying him gently on the bed and following him down. He moved to turn his back to Yusuf, to get into their normal sleeping position, but Yusuf tightened his hold.
“Like this tonight?” he whispered.
“Of course.”
Legs intertwined, arms around one another, breaths intermingling, they slept.
________________________________________
It took time, but slowly, the scars from the centuries under the sea started to fade.
The only problem was the bath.
Being surrounded by water was still difficult for Yusuf, so he had many standing baths, cleaning himself with a rag without submerging himself into the water.
After months of this, Nicolò turned to Yusuf when he announced he needed to clean himself. “Can we try something?”
“Of course, ya hayati, what?”
Nicolò filled the tub with hot water and stripped. He got in and backed up until his back was pressed against the side of the tub. He opened his legs and held out a hand.
“Take your time, please. But… join me?” he requested.
Yusuf did not have to face this alone.
Yusuf swallowed, but nodded. He took off his clothes much slower than Nicolò had, nervousness staying his hand. Nicolò took in every inch of him, still unbelieving at times that Yusuf was here, in front of him, looking at him with love in his eyes.
He took Nicolò’s hand, still held out for him, and squeezed.
One foot in. A deep breath. The other foot followed. Nicolò’s free hand ran up and down one of Yusuf’s legs, grounding him and letting him know he was right there. He was not in that cold ocean. He was in Nicolò’s arms, safe and warm.
Yusuf nodded decisively and knelt in the water, facing Nicolò.
“You are doing so well, habib albi, I am so proud of every step you are taking,” Nicolò crooned, pulling Yusuf close until their foreheads pressed together.
Yusuf let out a shaky breath but loosened his grip on Nicolò’s hand.
“You are magnificent, Yusuf,” Nicolò murmured.
He continued to whisper encouragement and praise as Yusuf slowly relaxed into his chest. Until Yusuf was sitting in the water with him, back to his chest, head leaning back onto his shoulder, eyes closed as he sank into Nicolò embrace.
“It turns out all I needed to bathe was to be in the arms of my love,” Yusuf said, peace and contentment radiating from every inch of him.
It helped ease an ache inside Nicolò as well.
“As I have said,” he murmured, turning his head to kiss Yusuf’s neck from its base to his jawline, “I will help you take the weight of your burdens. It is a privilege to hold you and help you at the same time.”
Yusuf smiled. It was as if a beam of sunshine was given human form. No ocean could extinguish his glow.
They sat together, resting in the warm water, for a long time. As the water cooled, Nicolò grabbed the soap and started to clean his love. Yusuf’s eyes stayed close and contentment oozed from every pore.
“Alright, my love, would you like to dry off and warm the bed for me? I won’t be more than a moment,” Nicolò murmured in Yusuf’s ear after he rinsed him of suds.
Yusuf chuckled softly. “I will gladly save you from the horror of cold sheets.” He sat up from where he had sprawled against Nicolò’s chest and pressed a kiss under his jaw. Nicolò shivered, goosebumps rising over his body, but he wasn’t cold.
Pulling back, Yusuf looked at him and smiled, a wicked look in his eyes. “Perhaps you should hold off washing just yet. I believe we will have to clean ourselves up soon enough.”
He was mostly right.
Many hours later, on new, clean sheets with freshly cleaned bodies, Yusuf turned to Nicolò with a pensive look on his face. “I think after some time here with you, I would like to see the world I have been away from. So much time has passed, many things must have changed.” His eyes widened. “Nicolò, I have missed so much art! There must have been at least two art movements in my time away! What if one of them was to be my masterpiece?”
Nicolò laughed until he gave a small snort. “Amore mio, I will pay for tutors of all the art movements you missed so you may see if they are worthy of your talent. We can go to museums and galleries.” He pulled Yusuf close and kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his lips.
“We are together. We have time,” he whispered.
Yusuf kissed him back, soft and sweet. Pulling back, he smiled at Nicolò. “If the new movements cannot render you onto canvas as well as they should, you can fire the tutors.”
“Deal.”
_______________________________________
They spent a century together, travelling to places new and old to them. Once they arrived in Malta, it took them a long time to leave. But leave they did, to be reunited with their fellow immortals. It was a pleasure to be amongst them again. Booker was not how Nicolò remembered him, but then, Nicolò was not the same either.
Throughout the years, they helped people and became closer, a unit. A family. Joe and Booker became close friends. In fact, he was one of the few people in the group who could pull a laugh out of Booker, even in his surliest mood. But in the moments when Booker was quietest, it wasn’t Joe who went to him. It was Nicky.
So how had Nicky not seen this coming?
The newest immortal, Nile, jerked awake the first night of being with them with a gasp of pain. Before she even opened her mouth, Nicky felt a sense of dread. He had been here before, in a different place and as a different man. He had to reach behind him, to make sure that Joe was still there.
“What did you see?” Quynh asked from where she was lying next to Andy.
Taking gulping breaths, Nile said disjointedly, “A man. He was tied down. They were… they took samples of him.” She shuddered. “They didn’t care that he was screaming.”
Andy looked around the room, making eye contact with each of her fellow immortals. Nicky didn’t know what was showing on his face, but he felt sick. Joe took hold of the hand still resting on his thigh.
“What did he look like?” Joe asked.
Nile closed her eyes, thinking. “Tall, his feet are hanging off the exam bed. Wide shoulders. His eyes are squeezed shut against the pain, I couldn’t see them. Blonde.” She looked around. “Do you know him?”
Andy got up and grabbed real clothes and her ax.
“Someone has Booker.”
The words were a blow, even though Nicky already knew. But Booker was supposed to be in France. He was supposed to be drinking wine and looking out at The Seine. He was supposed to be safe.
Someone had his brother. Was torturing and experimenting on him. And as Nicky looked around the room, he saw the same anger and bloodlust in Joe, Quynh, and Andy’s eyes as he felt himself.
“We have to get him back.”
“Do you know where he is? Any way of tracking him?” Nile asked.
Andy shrugged. “He has a phone. Can you work with that?”
Nile swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah. I can make that work.”
The phone didn’t lead them to Booker. It led them to James Copley. Fortunately, he told them where Booker was.
Andy and her ax were persuasive like that.
Nile asked them to stop as they drove and Andy pulled over on the country road they were driving down.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she muttered, looking down at the gun in her lap. “I don’t know if I want to be this.”
The older immortals exchanged looks.
“If you need to not accompany us on this mission, we understand, Nile,” Nicky said softly. “But if I may say, Booker would be the best of us for you right now. He is the youngest. Our first lives are far back in time for us, some more than others,” he said, nodding to Andy and Quynh. “He is the newest. He still remembers the family and the life he lost. I believe he is the one who could help you most through this. So you do not have to fight. But please, once we have saved Booker, talk to him. I hope he can help.”
Nile swallowed, then nodded.
In the end, she followed them into Merrick Pharmaceuticals, gun in hand. Together, they were a small army, fighting to get to the missing member of their family.
Nicky didn’t feel settled until he set eyes on Booker. Even then, he felt ill at the sight of dried blood and the straps over his chest, arms, and legs.
“Booker!” he burst out, relief and fear echoing in his name.
“No! No, you cannot be here!” Booker said frantically. “They cannot know of you!”
The words both broke and warmed Nicky’s heart. Throughout the events that led to all that blood, Booker had not told his captors of his immortal family’s existence.
“Too bad, we weren’t going to just leave you here, as they did that to you,” Nile said and Nicky remembered that she knew just how Booker had gotten bloodied. She had felt it.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Booker said sadly.
“What are you talking about?” Joe said, stepping away from Nicky’s side and starting to undo the clasps of the bindings on Booker’s arm. “Of course we would come for you. They were torturing you, Booker.”
“No, Joe, leave them,” Booker insisted.
Joe stopped and stepped back, staring at Booker in confusion.
“Booker…” Andy said, considering him in concern.
Nicky watched as a small, bitter smile graced Booker’s lips. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t a mission that required a rescue.”
“What are you saying, Booker?” Quynh asked.
Nicky saw Andy shake her head, staring at Booker in horror. “No.”
Booker shrugged, the movement confined due to the strap across his chest. “Merrick might know how to end this. I had to try.”
“You signed up for this?!” Joe exclaimed, gesturing to Booker’s body and Nicky felt as if he had been dunked in cold water as he also understood.
Booker hadn’t been captured. He allowed this to happen. He wanted this to happen.
Giving a hollow laugh, Booker said, “To be fair, I didn’t anticipate how ruthless Merrick would be to get results.”
“This is insanity,” Quynh said softly, stepping forward and resting a hand on his ankle. “Booker, a final death is not worth this.”
“I just…” And Nicky finally saw it. He saw as the weight of existence when a part of you felt empty, already dead, started to smother his friend. Had it always been so bad? Had Booker always looked so weighed down? And how had Nicky not seen it?
“I just want to be with them again,” Booker whispered, the words forced from some broken part inside him.
Nicky knew, because he had once had a similar broken place inside himself.
“Could you give us a minute?” Nicky asked the group. They nodded, moving away, and Nicky turned to his brother who was staring at the ceiling, tears in his eyes. He walked to his side.
“Booker, look at me, s’il te plait,” he murmured.
Booker’s eye didn’t waver from the ceiling.
“Sebastien. Please.”
At that, Booker turned to look at him. The pain in his eyes almost knocked Nicky flat.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see how much you were suffering.”
“Nicky…” Booker said, trying to look away.
“No, please. Hear me,” Nicky continued, and Booker met his gaze again. Nicky braced himself against the memories as he kept talking. “When I lost Yusuf, it felt like each breath was an effort. Existing was just something I continued to do in order to one day see him again. Yes, I had Andy and Quynh and eventually you, but I felt… heavy. Existence had a weight to it.”
Nicky knew Booker understood as he nodded.
“I know it isn’t a fair comparison,” Nicky continued. “I got Yusuf back. Your family is lost to you until you pass on. But Booker,” he said, clasping one of Booker’s hands in both of his, hoping the conviction in his voice and strength in his grip would be enough, “know this: we will always be here for you. We will take the weight as much as we can. And we will stay here with you until you get to the point that it doesn’t hurt as much to exist.”
“That may take forever,” Booker said and it sounded like a warning.
Nicky smiled, undeterred. “Luckily, we have time.”
Nicky let his hand hover over one of Booker’s restraints. He raised an eyebrow at him.
Booker looked across the room to where the others stood. He closed his eyes and first grimaced, then his face relaxed.
Opening his eyes, he looked up at Nicky.
“Let’s go, then.”
_____________________________________
Nicky pushed into the safe house, one of Booker’s arms pulled over his shoulder to keep him on his feet. The Frenchman tried to help him and Andy, who was on his other side, to get to the couch, but he could barely walk. As soon as his body hit the cushions, he let out a gust of air and slumped, all the ability to sit up gone from him.
His time at Merrick’s labs had obviously taken a lot out of him, especially if his body was still recovering. But Nicky thought of how long it took for the shadows to fade from Yusuf’s face, for him to fully fill out his clothes after his time in the iron maiden. It had taken time and love then.
Luckily, they had time and love to give now.
Quynh and Joe had the least amount of blood on them after their fight, so they had been elected to go get food and other necessities for the group. Booker dosed on the couch and Nicky and Andy watched over him as Nile went to the bathroom to start taking out her hair.
Nicky looked after the youngest immortal with a new respect. She hadn’t wanted to be a killer, yet she had stood by her fellow immortals as they fought through Merrick’s men. Merrick had turned a gun on Booker as he slumped against the wall, spitting, “This is all your doing, you fuck-”
They would never know what he was going to say. Nile had tackled him out of the broken window behind him and had fallen with him all the way to the pavement below.
There was no way to salvage her braids with all the blood in them.
The door opened and Joe and Quynh entered, laden with bags. It looked like they had stopped at many shops, but they hadn’t been gone long.
Seeing the look on Nicky’s face, Joe smiled and said, “We divided and conquered. I got food and toiletries." He turned to Andy. "This bag has things for Nile. I read the labels, the hair products should be okay for her, but let me know if I need to run out again. There’s a body wash and a pack of washcloths in there as well.”
“I bought clothes,” Quynh added, passing one of the several bags she carried to her wife. “They should fit her.”
Andy nodded and left the room with the bags.
“Here’s yours and Joe’s,” Quynh said, giving Nicky two bags.
“Grazie, chị ba,” Nicky murmured, kissing her on the cheek.
“I got stuff for a stew. Figured it would be good, filling.” Joe stared at Booker but he had a faraway look in his eyes.
“Will you help me?” Nicky asked him quietly and watched as Joe pulled his mind away from wherever it had gone and his eyes away from Booker.
“Of course, habibi,” he replied.
They got to the kitchen and put down the bags of food. Instead of turning to the stove, Nicky turned to Joe and held out his arms.
“Please-” was all he had to say, then his arms were filled with Joe.
Nicky let the feelings he had been carrying since he realized Booker had put himself into Merrick’s hands, so desperate to die he let himself be cut open and wanted to stay there, break over him. He held Joe tightly as he shook, tears wetting the shoulder of Joe’s dirty shirt.
He wasn’t alone in his despair. Joe gripped handfuls of Nicky’s ruined shirt as he too, let go.
Finally, they began to breathe easier. Their forehead came to rest together.
“How did we not see?” Nicky murmured.
“We saw how much he let us see. How much we wanted to see,” Joe said.
“Those are not the same.”
“I know, ya hayati. I know.”
More breathing.
Then with a sigh, Nicky kissed Joe’s temple and pulled away.
“Food, then.”
As the stew simmered, Joe and Nicky showered. There wasn’t much hot water left, not after Nile, then Booker, who had grumpily needed help from Andy, had showered. Nicky and Joe had heard his sleepy complaints from the kitchen as she pulled him towards the bathroom.
“I can fucking shower, c’mon, Andy, ‘m fine,” he slurred, clearly not fine.
“Get your ass in that shower or so help me, I will knock you out and wash you before you wake,” Andy said, sounding exasperated.
“But-”
“Let me help you, Book,” Andy said, her voice softer. “I’ve been doing a shit job of that.”
Booker didn’t have anything to say to that.
After, Andy pushed Joe and Nicky towards the bathroom, promising that she could look after the stew.
Once they stepped into the tepid water, Nicky saw Joe shudder and immediately moved as a buffer between Joe and the spray. Already vulnerable, Joe needed no reminder of the dark, cold ocean today.
But Joe seemed determined to bring it up anyway.
“What did you say to Booker, that made him agree to come with us?” he asked Nicky quietly.
Nicky closed his eyes and let the spray push his hair into his face. Sighing, he reached for the shampoo so he would have an excuse not to look at Joe and have him see the well of emotion he was trying to hide. While they’d talked about Joe’s experience while in the iron coffin, Nicky tried to avoid speaking of what it was like for him during that time.
“That I understood,” he said finally. “That we would help him going forward.”
“Of course we will.” Joe cupped Nicky’s jaw and gently pulled his face around until he could look him in the eye. “You don’t have to hide from me, Nicolò.”
“Yusuf…” Nicky couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and kissing Joe’s lips, softly and slowly.
Joe pulled his lips away but rested his forehead against Nicky’s. “Tell me.”
Nicky closed his eyes and focused on Joe, his breath, his warmth, his touch. “When you were… gone, I lost a part of myself. In the place under my ribs where you once were, there was only a weight that constantly tried to pull me under. The only way I could go on was to continue searching for you.” Nicky swallowed, tears welling up in his eyes. “Booker doesn’t have anything to keep him from being pulled under, Joe. If this incident is any indication, I fear we are not enough.”
“Oh, my Nicolò.” Joe pulled him close, disregarding the chilling spray. “My love. My moon. My kind warrior. Just as you fought for me, we will fight for Booker. Together.”
Nicky nodded, unable to speak.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “We should clean up. The water is turning cold and Quynh and Andy still need to shower.”
Dinner started as a quiet affair. Booker barely had the energy to repeatedly lift his spoon, but glared anyone who tried to help him into retreat. Nile was glancing around uncertainly, her hair now pulled back in simple braids. Nicky could see that Andy and Quynh were constantly in contact across the table, a hand on Quynh’s thigh, an arm resting on Andy’s chair, a hand entwined in the other’s. Honestly, he and Joe weren’t much better.
They were lucky. They had the people who grounded them next to them.
Booker and Nile both seem untethered in comparison.
“Nile,” Nicky said, and her eyes flashed up to meet his, “what do you like to do for fun?”
“Oh, um. I like listening to music. Working out. When I was home, I did some art stuff, but there isn’t much time for that-”
“You are an artist?” Joe asked excitedly, the lines around his eyes crinkling in pleasure. Nicky smiled just seeing them.
“Kinda, yeah. In high school, my art teacher was really cool and showed us artists like Augusta Savage and Jacob Lawrence, Kara Walker and Kehinde Wiley. She really inspired me and I was thinking, once I was done with my tour, I would go to art school. But I guess… that’s not an option anymore…” she trailed off, looking down at her stew.
“You can still get the education you want, Nile,” Quynh said. “We all have many degrees amongst us. And while your military will no longer pay for your education, we have been alive for a very long time. We can help you pay for art school.”
“That- that’s too much, I can’t ask-”
“Nile,” Andy said, giving her a look that was somehow understanding and firm at the same time. “You are one of us. We take care of our own.”
Nicky glanced over at Booker, who had fallen asleep where he sat.
“Sometimes not as much as we should,” he murmured as he and Joe stood and got Booker into an actual bed.
_______________________________________
Booker spent a lot of time recuperating on the couch as his body slowly recovered. Many times, someone would be sitting with him as he lay out, dosing in and out of consciousness. Joe frequently acted as his pillow, Booker’s head cushioned on either his thigh or his shoulder, and he would catch Booker up on what he had missed of the football game they had been watching when he next awoke.
Nicky was busier in the kitchen than he could remember being in quite some time. He pulled out the heartiest meals in his memory and when he couldn’t remember a specific ingredient, he adapted. The others sometimes shoved him out of the kitchen, taking over for a meal. With their plethora of culinary memories, the meals they ate were as varied as their histories. One thing was constant: the meals they ate were filling, but not heavy.
They did all they could to make sure no one would feel weighed down, by food or otherwise.
At night, there was always at least one member of their little immortal family in the room with Booker. Most nights, many of them crashed in the same room, on beds or blanket nests on the floor. Whenever Booker jerked awake from a nightmare, at least one person awoke with him. Some nights, he mumbled, “M’fine,” and quickly fell back asleep. Other nights, he couldn’t get back to sleep and someone got up and made tea. Many times, that someone was Nicky. They would watch the sunrise together, sometimes talking quietly, other times sitting in silence.
One memorable night, Booker awoke with tears in his eyes and his hand outstretched for someone who was no longer there to take it. Quynh took the initiative to crawl on top of him and curl up, falling asleep after sleepily stroking his hair off his forehead. Andy shook her head at her wife’s antics, smiling at Booker as he stared first at Quynh, then at Andy.
“You can push her off, if you want,” Andy said, shrugging.
Booker shook his head and wrapped his arms around Quynh. He let out a shaky exhale and closed his eyes, only to fall asleep moments later.
Their little immortal family had always been tactile. But after that, cuddling became a regular thing.
Throughout all of this, Nile had been part of the group, but a little distant from the older immortals. She would have a separate bed or settle in the arm chair away from the couch were the others congregated. Nicky kept an eye on her, but knew that she needed time to adjust. She and Nicky had a few late night talks when she couldn’t sleep about everything from immortality to religion to cooking. She and Joe had hit it off, talking art and drawing together sometimes. She and Andy sparred frequently and Quynh taught her how to use a sword and a bow and arrow. But Nile and Booker hadn’t interacted all that much comparatively.
So it was surprising when one morning, he awoke and neither Booker nor Nile were in the room. Everyone else was still sleeping as Nicky slipped out of the room, Joe making a discontented snuffling noise as he moved into the warmed space Nicky had just vacated. Nicky crept down the hall towards the kitchen where he could hear low voices.
“-cause you’re the youngest. Well, except for me now, I guess. You know the most about technology, so it would be easier for you to sign up and do it.”
“I don’t know, Nile-”
“Look, you need therapy. I’m sorry, but no matter how much love everyone gives you, that won’t change the way your brain functions. You need to put in the work. If you don’t feel like you’re worth the effort, think of the others. They think you're worth it, so just do the damn online therapy.”
Silence. Nicky breathed quietly, not moving in the hall.
“What would I even tell the therapist?”
There was a rustle like Nile had shrugged. “The truth. Your family died and you were drunk and depressed and wanted to die. You made some dumb decisions. You want to feel better. That they can help with. Don’t know if they know how to approach the weight of immortality, so maybe don’t bring that up.”
“Yeah,” Booker said, letting out a soft laugh. “Maybe not.”
“And um. I’ll sign up too. Work through some of my stuff. I deserve to not be scared of going left.”
“Yeah, Nile. You do.”
Nicky emerged from the hall after a few moments of silence and made his way to the kitchen. “Buongiorno, famiglia mia,” he murmured, going towards the kitchen.
“Morning, Nicky,” Nile said from where she was sitting on the couch next to Booker.
Booker nodded to Nicky, a smile gracing his face.
“Have you eaten?” Nicky asked.
“No, not yet,” Nile replied. “There should be some coffee in the machine, if you want.”
“Thank you.”
He made two cups with what was left of the ready made coffee for Quynh and Andy, then started making another pot for himself and Joe. He pulled out eggs and vegetables and set about cooking breakfast. Today felt like a frittata day.
Andy and Quynh came into the kitchen looking awake even without coffee to invigorate them, though they gladly took the proffered cups Nicky handed them.
“No Joe yet?” Quynh asked, taking a gulp.
“He was still asleep when I left the bed,” Nicky said.
A mischievous look crossed Quynh’s face. “Not for long. Nile, help me out?”
Nile was up and across the kitchen in a flash. There were times that Nicky forgot she was a sister, that she had that sibling mischief about her. Now, he remembered.
Quynh set her coffee on the dining table and headed towards the bedrooms. “Let’s go.”
“You okay with this, Nicky?” Nile asked, looking over anxiously at him.
He snorted softly. “If my Joe hasn’t readied himself for one of Quynh’s attacks in all the centuries we have traveled together, he deserves whatever trick is up her sleeve. Go have fun.”
Permission granted, Nile’s grin widened and she and Quynh snuck down the hall.
“Incoming!” he heard them yell. The sound of two bodies landing on a bed and the groan of his husband reached him.
His and Booker’s eyes met and they smiled at each other as Joe’s groggy voice came down the hall, “’M awake, ‘m awake, leave me alone devil women…”
“Nope! Nicky is making frittatas and your coffee is getting cold, so you have to get up, get up, get up!” Quynh said, and that was definitely the sound of the bed bouncing up and down.
“Hgnnnnnnnnnnnnn,” Joe groaned.
“Don’t make me spatula you, Joe,” Nile said, her voice teasing.
“Wazzat?” he asked, curious.
“You asked.”
Thud.
“Oh, I see,” Quynh said, sounding delighted as a new weapon was added to her mischief arsenal.
“Devil women,” Joe said again, voice muffled. Possibly by the floor.
Nile and Quynh walked back into the kitchen, laughing. Joe followed, wrapped in the blanket that had been on his and Nicky’s bed. He came up behind Nicky and leaned against his back as he cut up vegetables.
“I thought you were supposed to protect me from threats as I slept, Nicolò,” he muttered into the nape of his neck.
Nicky fought back a shiver. “Maybe I wanted you to join us by whatever methods necessary.”
“My very heart, a traitor,” Joe said mournfully, pressing a kiss into his skin.
“It is sad, but true.”
“They said something about coffee?”
Nicky passed Joe his cup. “It may need reheating.”
“Mmm…” Joe took a sip. “It’s fine. I like it here.”
“Bene,” Nicky murmured, turning his head until he could look at his husband. He leaned in and brushed a kiss against his lips. “I like you here, too.”
“I’d like it here even more with food. Any update on that?” Andy’s slightly exasperated voice said behind them.
“Can’t rush greatness, Andy,” Joe said, smiling.
Nicky nudged him, shaking his head. “Less than fifteen minutes, boss.”
Everyone converged on the dining table as soon as Nicky put the frittatas down. Quynh and Andy elbowed each other out of the way to get to the closest one and Booker carefully slid the second one toward Nile, who smiled gratefully at him.
“This one for us, habibi?” Joe asked, pulling the last one closer.
“Looks like,” Nicky replied, smiling at his family enjoying his food.
He leaned into Joe as they ate, reveling in the heat he exuded from his blanket cocoon. Looking around, he felt warmth in his chest as he took in his little improbable family. Andy and Quynh were trying to steal the last bites of their frittata off each other’s forks as Nile laughed. Booker was drinking coffee. His flask was nowhere to be seen, Nicky realized. Nile’s eyes no longer darted from one person to the next, unsure of her place at the table. Joe was halfway through chewing his food when he and Nicky’s eyes met and he grinned at him, cheeks full.
Nicky sent up a little thanks to God for giving him all of this. This family. These sisters, who were as fierce as they were loving. This second chance with Booker. This new, bright immortal to light up their immortality. This man, who was with Nicky as he grew past his prejudices, who had loved him from the battlefield to the bottom of the ocean to back in his arms.
This. All of it.
It was more than he could have ever imagined and he would be forever grateful.
Translations:
Santa Maria, Madre di Dio - Holy mother of God
amore mio - my love
habibi - my darling/my love
ya amar - my moon
ya hayati - my life
habib albi - love of my heart
s'il te plaît - please (informal)
grazie - thank you
chị ba - second oldest sister (I hope, I'm open to corrections!)
Buongiorno, famiglia mia - Good morning, my family
Bene - good
#nicky x joe#joe x nicky#kaysanova#nicoló di genova#aka nicky#yusuf al kaysani#aka joe#andromaquynh#andy x quynh#andromache the scythian#andy#quynh#sebastien le livre#aka booker#nile freeman#the old guard#the old guard fanfic#fanfic#my fic
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with bloody knuckles (i’d follow you anywhere) [1/3]
title: with bloody knuckles (i’d follow you anywhere)
relationships: nines rodriguez/the fledgling
words: 4.9k
warnings: mentions of violence
chapter: one of three
summary: Mickey thought she lost everything as Griffith Park burned. As Kindred forces battled to control Los Angeles, she realized she finally had something to fight for.
Griffith Park was burning.
Mickey had smelled the smoke, but thought nothing of it. A trap, Nines had said, and she scoffed. They could outrun a fire, Mickey thought; just head back down to the gondola before the flames caught up to them. Nines tried to tell her, tried to explain the exact amount of danger they were in.
She didn’t believe him. Now, she desperately wished she had.
One second, he was there, his hands on her shoulders, his icy gaze pleading, trying to get her to listen. The next, he was violently torn away, his hands ripped away by the jaws of the werewolf. Before Mickey could blink, think, do anything, he was gone. Tossed over the cliffside like he was nothing, the werewolf close behind.
Mickey was running.
She was running faster than she ever thought was possible. She could hear the thing, the werewolf, the monster, snapping at her heels. Her shoulder collided with the observatory’s door, splinters of wood snapping free from the impact. Razor-sharp claws dug into the floor, the beast trying to pull its massive body through. Mickey didn’t look back to see if it was following her. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but survive. Her Beast was screaming, howling; she could feel its fangs clawing at her chest.
A scream erupted from her throat as the wall next to her exploded in a cascade of plaster. She skidded to a stop, her knees sliding against the linoleum as she tried to duck out of the way. The werewolf shoved its maw through the hole, its jaw snapping, its fangs catching bits of plaster and wood. Mickey’s own claws extended from her hands, her Beast calling on the Blood to defend herself. She struck the werewolf’s snout and it howled, the noise causing a shiver of primal fear to race down her spine.
The gondola wouldn’t arrive for another minute.
Scrambling away, Mickey launched to her feet, careening down the hall. Her eyes found the exit and she raced toward it. When she was outside again, the smoke burned her lungs, but she ignored it. Between the fire and the werewolf, the Beast howled in her mind again. Mickey gritted her teeth and ran toward an adjacent building; it was small and she knew it wouldn’t do anything to protect her from the werewolf that was hot on her trail, but it was better than being out in the open.
As she shoved her way inside, she locked the door, and braced her back against it. She survived Sabbat packs, cops, Russian mobsters, vampire hunters, and fucking gargoyle, there was no way she was dying here.
She needed to think. She needed a plan. She needed –
Wait. As Mickey’s eyes looked over the room, she noticed a power box. She assumed it powered up the whole observatory, but she wouldn’t know until she turned it on. A plan began to form in Mickey’s mind. It was stupid, it was reckless, but it was something. Once she turned the power on, she was going to have to run, faster than before, and hope to God the werewolf would follow.
Taking a breath she didn’t need, Mickey turned the switch on and ran like Hell.
The observatory lit up, just like she thought it would. As soon as she exited the smaller building, Mickey ran back through the door she came. She turned the corner, finding herself in the observatory’s lobby. She didn’t allow herself time to wait as she bounded up the steps toward the main platform.
The Blood sang in her ears as she propelled herself forward, her hand fumbling with the switch to open the large observatory doors. If her heart could still beat, it’d be pounding wildly in her chest. The noise of the doors opening must’ve caught the attention of the werewolf, just like Mickey hoped it would, because she heard a howl, followed by its charging footsteps.
With a guttural snarl, the werewolf launched itself upward. Mickey could see the hunger and bloodlust in its eyes as it pounced, claws extended, jaw snapping.
Got you, you motherfucker.
As the werewolf flew through the air, Mickey flipped the switch, and the observatory doors began to close.
By the time the werewolf landed, its body was caught between the heavy doors. Its ribs snapped under the impact; its body crushed as the doors closed shut. With a low whine and a shuddering breath, it slumped to the floor.
With the werewolf threat taken care of, Mickey felt her body slump to the floor. Her chest heaved with unnecessary breath, her stomach trying to empty its nonexistent contents. With her mind no longer focused purely on survival, the weight of what just happened settled in on her shoulders.
Nines was gone.
A feral scream erupted from Mickey’s throat, her vocal cords nearly tearing in protest. Her fists pounded against the floor, but even the pain exploding from her knuckles wasn’t enough to anchor her back to the present. Her grief was an ugly thing; it was bloody, it was primal, it was a volatile mix of righteous fury and unadulterated sorrow.
She was going to kill LaCroix. She was going to tear his unbeating heart out of his chest and burn Venture Tower to the ground.
First, she was going to need to live to see the next sundown.
Mickey’s mind was clouded in a fog as she made her way back outside and toward the gondola. She didn’t register the blood-tears that stained her cheeks, didn’t register the ache in her knuckles or the sharp pain in her ribs. When the gondola doors closed and she began her descent, Mickey didn’t recognize her reflection in the windows.
It felt like an eternity before she made it to the parking lot, but when she got there, she saw someone she didn’t expect to see.
“Come on, kid! Get in the car! The sun’ll be up, we gotta get the Hell outta here!” Smiling Jack said, opening up the passenger side door. Mickey didn’t ask how he knew she was here, didn’t protest, didn’t say anything, but she did what he said and got in.
The drive to Santa Monica was quick and silent. By the time Jack got Mickey to her apartment, it was nearly sunrise. She barely had enough energy to make sure the curtains were shut before she collapsed on her bed. The blackness of day-sleep swallowed her and as the sun rose on Los Angeles, Mickey was dead to the world.
The following night when Mickey awoke, Jack was still at her apartment. Hunger gnawed in her gut, ever present. She was still wearing the clothes she was in yesterday; the scent of smoke and blood clung to her like a macabre perfume. As Mickey wiped her eyes, her fingers smudged the dried blood that lingered there.
Jack quickly noticed that Mickey was awake and tossed a blood bag to her before speaking, “Wake up, kiddo, and look alive. You better get on your feet and be ready to move.”
Mickey caught the blood bag and tore into it, gulping down mouthfuls of blood. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying, but it calmed the Beast somewhat. She shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it into the corner. The walls of her haven felt too restricting, too familiar to a prison cell. She didn’t use this haven much; she preferred her office downtown.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“You’re lucky I got to you first. Anyone else and you’d be a pile of cinders right now.”
Mickey frowned, moving around Jack to see if she had any extra clothes stashed away here, “What are you talkin’ about?”
“Get ready to run. Take everything you need. You’re never coming back here,” Jack said, continuing to dodge her questions.
“What happened?”
“LaCroix put out the word — he says you’re in league with the Kuei-jin, Ming-Xiao’s puppet, that you’re the one who set up Nines for her. See, he’s figured it all out, and now your death is a big bullet point in his new unity campaign. There’s a Blood Hunt on you,” Jack explained.
White-hot anger flared in Mickey’s gut. Her hands curled into fists and she felt her fangs extend. It made sense, of course. She was always just a pawn in LaCroix’s games, ever since he decided to spare her life. Her days were numbered, she knew that, but this wasn’t about just surviving another night.
Now, this was about revenge.
“I’m in league with the Kuei-jin?” Mickey’s voice rumbled like thunder.
“He had to turn things around on you real quick since you found out about his deal with Ming-Xiao. This is his Plan B. Plan A was to kill you and Nines in Griffith Park. Now LaCroix is playing the victim. The way he tells it is you were his own childe, he trusted you with so much… and you took full advantage, sold out to the Kuei-jin and cost the people their hero. They’re saying Nines is dead and you killed him.”
A storm of emotions raged in Mickey’s eyes, each one like a flash of lightning. Anguish, fury, hatred, regret. She felt like a coward, unable to say the words out loud.
Nines was dead.
So many things left unsaid between them. Things Mickey was too cowardly to say. Because that’s what she did. She kept people at arm’s length so she wouldn’t get hurt; kept her walls up so high. Nines was different, though. He got closer than an arm’s length. He managed to get Mickey’s walls down, brick by brick. She still remembered that night in her office, the feeling of his lips on hers, a promise of more.
Mickey turned away from Jack so he couldn’t see her face or the stubborn tears that stung her eyes.
“Look, I’m here to help you — again — but, dammit, it’s time!”
“Time for what?”
“Time to make a choice.”
Mickey pinched the bridge of her nose. She had a thousand questions and no answers, “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“You’re gonna have to stay off the streets and stay on the move, ‘cause it’s open season on your ass. Vampires are gonna be bussin’ in from Sacramento to join in on this Hunt. You need backing, kiddo. You need the protection of one of the factions. Friends are the last thing you wanna be without right now, but you gotta get outta here.”
Mickey scoffed a humorless laugh, “You make it sound so easy.”
“I got a guy who can get’cha where you need to go. Interesting guy, you’ll like him, but this place is gonna be watched. He’s across Santa Monica, by the junkyard. Get there and he’ll get you outta town.”
She arched a brow, but didn’t ask; she wasn’t about to object to the help Jack was willing to give. She immediately began to pack up what little belongings she had here, but as she moved, Jack caught her elbow.
“In case we don’t see each other again, nice known’ ya, kiddo. Give ‘em hell; they deserve it.”
A slow, predatory smile tugged at the corners of Mickey’s mouth, “You’re goddamn right they do.”
_____________
Mickey cut a destructive path across Santa Monica. With stealth on her side, she managed to stay hidden for the first part of the journey, but got spotted as she tried to cut through the parking garage. She didn’t know the guy, but he was fast, managed to get a few hits in, but Mickey had the advantage of anger. Her claws cut through him easily, and she left his body for the sun.
She got jumped again right outside the diner, a Nosferatu appearing out of nowhere. She called on the power of the Blood, a swarm of bats distracting the vampire long enough for Mickey to escape. By the time she reached the cab, her Hunger was back in full force. The taxi driver pulled out of Santa Monica quickly and headed toward the highway.
Jack said she needed protection, needed friends. She wasn’t going back to LaCroix, that was for damn sure. When she saw him again, he was going to be a pile of ashes. There was only one place Mickey knew she could go, but she wondered if she had the strength to face them.
She wondered if Damsel would try to kill her the minute she walked through the door.
The taxi driver must’ve sensed her emotional turmoil. After driving in silence for a while, he spoke up, “You work for Prince LaCroix, don’t you?”
Mickey’s upper lip curled back in a sneer before she could stop herself, “Fuck no. LaCroix’s not getting anything out of me anymore. I’m done being his little puppet.”
“You are… an Anarch, then? A curious experiment, the Anarchs. They have lost many battles and more leaders — their rebellion has already failed in the eyes of many. Do you feel their notions of freedom have any real possibility?”
Jesus, who the hell was this guy?
Mickey took a moment to answer. “Fuck right, I do. As long as a few believe, it’ll remain a possibility.”
Before Mickey found a place among the Anarchs, she had no purpose. She was aimless, just like she was in life; just trying to survive each night. The Anarchs gave her something to believe in. Gave her a chance to do something good. The Anarchs helped mold her into a person she could actually be proud of. Her past was muddy, she knew that. She couldn’t change the shitty things she’d done, but she could at least make up for her mistakes now.
“If the Anarchs managed to recapture this city, it would not be long before someone challenged them for it. Conflict is always an eventuality in their life. Could you spend an eternity this way?”
If Mickey had been asked this question months ago, she probably would have said no. She would have run at the first opportunity, put as much distance between Los Angeles and herself, but then things got complicated. She still had time to run, she mused, but that little voice in her head that always seemed to whisper flight over flight was silent.
She was staying.
“Absolutely,” Mickey said. Her voice echoed with an unfamiliar resolution. The conviction felt strange on her tongue, but not in a bad way, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides,” she paused, that predatory grin tugging at her lips once again, a flash of her fangs illuminated by the street lights, “conflict’s always been in my nature.”
It was quiet for a moment as the taxi driver mulled over Mickey’s words. There was something about him Mickey couldn’t place. She was almost positive he’d driven her around LA before. His sunglasses made it impossible to get a good read on him. She wondered how he knew so much; how he knew Jack. Was he Kindred, too? Mickey was pulled out of her thoughts as he spoke again.
“The Anarchs have lost less than is thought. I hear there is one left who may be able to revitalize the movement. Maybe, though, it is just a rumor.”
Mickey’s eyes went wide. She didn’t dare let herself hope; didn’t dare set herself up for disappointment or to get hurt again. She already grieved once; she didn’t want to do it again. However, once a small spark of hope was ignited, it was hard to get it extinguished once it caught fire. Mickey clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking.
“Who?”
“I know where you might find them, but you would have to be ready to commit to the Anarchs’ fight for this city. I could just as easily take you downtown to see LaCroix.”
Mickey’s eyes drifted outside, the highway flashing by in a continuous blur. She thought back to last night, how she felt when Nines was torn away from her. It felt like someone carved a hole in her chest, a void of murderous fury filling its place. She wanted to march down to Venture Tower and tear LaCroix apart, slowly, painfully, limb from limb. Her anger was amplified by the Beast, who was delighted at the idea of such primal destruction.
It wasn’t just about killing LaCroix, though. This was a war, now; a battle to free Los Angeles from those who wanted to control it. She’d been a pawn in someone else’s game for far too long. She was ready to finally stand for something.
It wasn’t just about revenge, either. The loss of Nines made her realize something. Something she was too afraid to admit to herself before. She loved him. Christ help her, she loved him, and if what this taxi driver was saying was true then —
One step at a time, Mickey.
“No,” she finally said, her gaze returning to meet the driver’s in the mirror, “Take me to your contact.”
“If you share the Anarchs’ passion and would share the burden of such a fire, we will go to meet the last person capable of keeping them together.”
With that, the taxi driver merged lanes, and turned off on the exit toward Hollywood.
_____________
Mickey stood outside the entrance to a hotel in Hollywood, her jaw clenched so hard her teeth began to ache. What would happen when she walked through the door? It felt like the entire weight of Los Angeles was pressed down on her shoulders. She made the decision to come here. It was the right one, Mickey knew that, but that didn’t make it any easier.
She willed her feet to move, one step at a time, and came face to face with Skelter at the front door. Mickey wasn’t sure what kind of welcome she expected — she imagined many — but it certainly wasn’t: “Good to see you, sister.”
That familiar mask of detached calm slid into place, her face a picture-perfect expression of practiced boredom. “You, too, Skelter,” the question she was desperate to ask was lodged someplace in her throat, but she found the courage, and cleared the syllables free, “is Nines alive?”
“He’s inside. Motherfucker’s tellin’ some tall tales, sayin’ he wrestled a werewolf. You believe that shit?”
Mickey swore time stopped. Gravity shifted. She wasn’t sure which way was up or down. Everything she thought she knew was wrong. She thought Nines was dead. She saw him go over the cliff, the werewolf right behind him. She survived out of sheer, dumb luck. She was ready to mourn him, ready to grieve properly once LaCroix met the Final Death at her hand, but now everything was different.
Cracks in Mickey’s façade began to form, so she quickly said, “Just one? He got off easy.”
Skelter snorted, “Pfft, yeah, whatever, and the Pope’s my ghoul. Get in there.”
As Mickey entered the hotel lobby, she found the place mostly empty. She recognized a few familiar faces; Anarchs that frequented the Last Round. An elegantly tall, blonde woman stood near the front desk, talking animatedly with another, and she smiled brightly at Mickey as she walked by. With each step, Mickey felt her heart get lodged somewhere in her throat. What was she going to say when she saw him? Her mask of calculated boredom wouldn’t last, she knew that. Maybe she was tired of hiding behind her walls.
As she reached the next floor, she found Damsel guarding the door.
“Jesus Christ, Mick, I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Damsel said, actually looking relieved to see Mickey in one piece. An odd feeling stirred in Mickey’s chest, something akin to a sense of belonging.
“Gonna take more than a Blood Hunt and a couple werewolves to take me out,” Mickey said, a playful cockiness to her words.
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Damsel exclaimed, “First Nines gets to kill a werewolf, now you? Ugh! Why does everyone get to kill a werewolf except me?”
Mickey chuckled, her shoulders rising in a shrug, “I’m sure there’s a few still skulking around Griffith Park if you wanna try your luck.”
“Nah, think I’d much rather kill LaCroix and all his other little corporate stooges right now,” Damsel said, the signature Brujah fire raging in her eyes. “Speakin’ of, you should head inside. Your puppy-dog eyes are about to make me puke.”
Mickey bit back the retort that she was ready to fire back, a bark of laughter escaping her lips as she shook her head. She really didn’t feel like arguing with Damsel about the existence of these so called “puppy-dog eyes”, so she simply laughed and said, “Fuck off.”
“Go on in. I’ll make sure no one interrupts,” Damsel said, “but man, I sure hope somebody tries!”
For a moment, Mickey stood outside the door that separated her from Nines; the man she thought was dead. The man she realized she loved. With shaking hands, Mickey reached for the door and quietly stepped inside.
When their gazes met from across the room, Mickey felt her knees go weak.
Nines was perched up on one of the tables, his clothes torn and stained with blood. His face was torn, too; it looked like it was barely holding itself together. They were only a few feet apart, but it felt like miles. Any coherent thought Mickey had in her head flew right out the fucking window at the sight of him. Relief wasn’t a strong enough word for what she felt.
Nines must’ve seen the look on her face; must’ve seen past the thinly held in place façade. His gaze softened, the Anarch leader allowing the briefest hints of vulnerability to shine through.
“Hey,” Nines said, his gruff and quiet voice sounding like music to Mickey’s ears.
“Hey, yourself,” Mickey replied, taking a hesitant step forward. The entire city of Los Angeles could have been burning to the ground right now and she wouldn’t have noticed.
Ever closer still, like two magnets destined to clash together. Mickey struggled to find her usual bluster, the mask of self-assured cockiness she wore when she wanted to feel in control. She recalled some of the first words Nines ever said to her, way back when he saved her from that pack of Sabbat.
“You look like shit.”
Nines chuckled, then winced, “Shit, don’t make me laugh, my face is barely holdin’ it together as it is.”
“Rumor is you killed me,” he continued, his expression shifting into a somber one. Unnecessary breath hitched in Mickey’s throat at his words, but she said nothing and let him speak, “I knew you’d make it here in one piece. Hell, you got out of the park alive; that’s quite the feat.”
A warmth curled in Mickey’s gut at the praise, her hand rubbing the back of her neck in a sheepish motion. “Yeah, well, that was mostly dumb luck.”
Another step closer. Her hands ached to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was real. She took in the sight of him again, from the iciness of his eyes, the broadness of his shoulders, the muscles of his arms, his bloodstained and bruised hands.
“Nines,” she sighed his name like a prayer, “I thought — I thought you were dead.”
He finally reached for her then and she obliged, closing the distance between them. His hands, his bloodstained, bruised hands, rested on her hips. She gripped his forearms, her eyes cast downward. Damn the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks; she was supposed to be stronger than this.
“Hey,” Nines said, voice softer than she ever heard it. This wasn’t the voice of the grizzled, Anarch leader. This was a voice of vulnerability, something he reserved for those he trusted, those he cared for. “Can’t say I got out without a scratch, but, I’m here, Mickey.”
Stormy greys met icy blues. Her hands ghosted up his arms, to his shoulders, until she was cupping his face in her hands. His stubble gently scratched against the skin of her palms.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Mickey continued. She had a habit of rambling when she was around him, she realized. As her mental walls came tumbling down, they were followed by a tidal wave of all the words she had been too afraid to say before, “I knew I needed to survive, but, after that, I don’t know. Was gonna kill LaCroix for what he did. Go out in a blaze of glory or something, I guess.”
“You don’t have to do this alone, Mickey,” Nines said, “you have us. You have me.”
LaCroix could have walked through the hotel lobby, handing himself over to surrender, and Mickey wouldn’t have cared. The only thing she cared about was how Nines’ mouth felt against hers. She surged forward, catching his lips in a kiss. The emotion behind the kiss startled even her. She tried to be gentle, tried to be careful of the wounds in his face, but even Nines seemed to not care about anything except the two of them in that moment. His arms circled her waist, his hands splayed against her lower back. One of Mickey’s hands cradled the back of his neck, her fingers combing through his short, cropped hair.
Her teeth caught his lower lip and he groaned, opening his mouth for her. Her tongue slipped in, caressing his own. Mickey signed against him, his hands pressing against her spine, bringing her closer still. Mickey poured every ounce of emotion into her kisses, everything she couldn’t find the words to say; not yet anyway. Nines responded in kind, responding to her passion with vigor. For a moment, Mickey wondered if he was going to take her, right here and now on this table, but he pulled away with clear regret.
“Now I think you are tryin’ to kill me,” Nines mumbled, his forehead pressing against hers.
“Sorry,” Mickey replied, not really sorry at all. She looked at him from under her lashes and for once, she didn’t shrink under the intensity of his gaze.
“S’okay. Let’s just, y’know, save this for a more, uh, opportune time.”
Mickey smirked, “I can think of plenty of opportune times.”
Another chuckle rumbled in Nines’ chest. He brought a hand up from where it rested against the small of her back to her cheek, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone.
“We made it out of Griffith Park, but someone clearly didn’t want us to,” he said, his brow furrowed in concentration. Mickey watched in real time as his own mask slid back into place; the mask belonging to the calculating Anarch leader, “We were set up and the list of suspects is short: LaCroix or Xiao.”
“Both of ‘em were in on it,” Mickey explained, her words laced with venom, “they’ve been workin’ together this whole time. When I found out, LaCroix decided to kill two birds with one stone.”
“What? The Kuei-jin and LaCroix?” Nines asked, incredulous. Anger of his own flashed in the depths of his eyes, “Even the Camarilla wouldn’t let that fly; he wanted an alliance with me because his other one failed.”
It was all coming to a head now. A spark of revolution danced between the two of them, waiting to see who’d ignite it first.
“That’s twice they’ve tried to have me killed. Not to mention how many times LaCroix sent you off on a mission hoping you’d finally bite the dust,” Nines continued, “and it’s not gonna end there, Mickey. It’s us or them. You got a preference?”
That feline, predatory grin was back in full force as Mickey said, “Where should I start?
“I’ve already sent troops to raise Hell over the city. The Kuei-jin think we’re busy with the Cam, so they won’t be expecting an attack. You know what’s gotta be done, right?”
Mickey knew what needed to be done when she woke up that evening. Nines was right: it was us or them. This war wouldn’t stop until LaCroix and Xiao were nothing but stains of ash on the floor. When Nines looked in her eyes, he saw a storm of revolution, vengeance, and hope.
“Xiao’s been in LA for too many nights. I’m gonna make tonight her last.”
Nines nodded, his hands cradling Mickey’s face. Her hands gripped his wrists. She still had plenty to say to him, but she bit her tongue. Once the war was over, they would have plenty of time to talk — plenty of time for other things too.
“Once you take care of Xiao, come back here. We can regroup and go after LaCroix tomorrow night.”
It took every ounce of willpower for Mickey to pull away. Before she got too far, though, Nines caught her wrist. He pulled her to him, his lips finding hers again. It was a soft kiss, gentler than she was expecting. The kiss he might’ve given her in another life, if they’d been granted peace and time.
“Would you listen if I asked you to be careful?” Nines asked, his voice as soft as the kiss he’d just given her.
Mickey couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at the corners of her mouth, “I like risk. You know that.”
“You’re so certain.”
Another cocky smirk, another lingering kiss. A low growl rumbled in Nines’ throat when Mickey pulled away this time. “Not fair.”
“Proved my point, though.”
Mickey finally moved away then, because she knew that the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave. With a final wink and a mock salute, she headed out the doors, and into the night.
#nines rodriguez#vtmb#vtmb fic#ship: rebel yell#writing: mine#and i feel tenderness in this chili's tonight#ch: mickey
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A Multitude of Things (Secret Santa 2020!)
I said I would post at midnight. I worked hard on this damn it
( @the-roanoke-society )
Hi @agentondine ! It’s me! I’m your secret Santa! :D So, I love you. And the ships we have together. So I’m doing something for all of them. Most of them. All of them would be a task that would take a lot longer than the month of December. Any way! I decided to take our most popular four and write little drabbles for them. And do picture boards! This is the most effort I’ve ever put into writing in a long time! I really hope you enjoy these!!!
Parties were not exactly Bekah’s ideal location to be. At any time. Ever. But Leo liked them. So she was willing to spend a few hours of her time with him at parties every now and then.
“Mi alma! There you are! Are you enjoying my party?” Leo smiled brightly at her as he saved her from an unwanted conversation. He always threw a large party for the holidays. Most of the Oceanic Council was invited as well as a few members of the Roanoke Society.
Bekah smiled softly. “I am. It’s very nice.” It was a bit too loud for her taste and the lights were starting to hurt her eyes. “I think I’ll be leaving soon though. It’s getting to be a bit,” she sighed, “much.”
His smile softened as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “That’s okay. I’m just glad you came at all. Besides,” Leo turned and wrapped his other arm around her, “I’ll get to be around you later tonight. Alone. Just the way you like it.” He smiled more as he saw a smile spread across Bekah’s face. “I know you are looking forward to that, mi amor.” Leo gave her cheek a quick kiss. “But until then, why don’t we get you a drink and a seat so that you can enjoy the rest of your time here in peace?”
“I would like that. I would like that very much.” Bekah smiled softly and took his arm as they walked to the refreshments. Leo grabbed a mug and started to fill it up for her. He loved doing any and everything for her. Bekah took a few minutes of the free time to look around the room. Her eyes stopped right above them. A small bough of mistletoe. She laughed softly. “Leo?”
He hummed in recognition as he turned to her, filled and garnished mug in hand. “Yes, mi reina?” He was completely oblivious to the plant above them.
Bekah laughed a bit louder as she took the mug out of his hand, set it down, and pulled him in for a kiss. She came away with a smile and a finger between them pointing up. “Mistletoe.”
His eyes followed and he laughed. “Indeed. Mistletoe.” Leo wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for another kiss, much longer than the first. “Maybe,” he pressed his forehead to hers, “maybe we can leave now? I mean... The party is all but done.” It most certainly was not.
Bekah looked around the room. “Yeah... Let’s just go.” She laughed softly, gave him another kiss, and started to run with him out of the party.
The mountain safehouses for Roanoke were meant as that, safehouses. But sometimes, agents would use them as secret getaways. Much like Rebekah was doing with Neron. A man that rarely left an island chain had to appreciate a cabin in the mountains, right? All the evergreen trees and snow? Not to mention how romantic it would be.
At least, that's what Bekah thought.
"Hold on." Neron pulled his wool blanket tighter around him. "You mean to tell me that people like this? All this cold and snow?" There is something to the child that he can't quite place. Like a weird sense of belonging. But it was vastly overpowered by his Caribbean weather temperament. He was used to heat and humidity. Not cold and ice.
Bekah looked out the window. Snow was falling at a steady rate. "Some people do. I like it. At least, I like it when I can come inside to a nice, warm fire." She walked back over to the couch and curled up beside him.
Neron opened up the blanket so that she could come closer. "Well, I think I like my Caribbean heat more than the snow." He laughs and kisses the top of her head. "But I can withstand the cold for you."
"Aw, thank you." She smiled and snuggled further into his side. Little did they know how much cold they would have to withstand.
The next morning, Bekah woke up shivering. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting in confusion. Why was it so cold? She sucked in her breath when her feet hit the cold floor and made her way to the window. Bekah couldn't believe her eyes. Pulling back the curtain, she was greeted to a window full of snow. Was the snowfall that bad?
Neron groaned and rolled over, slightly shivering. "Bekah?"
"Uh... You might want to throw on some layers, love..." She threw some wool socks and a sweater his way. "I'm going to get the fire started and we can get started on making breakfast to warm the house and us up. We might be here a while..."
That woke him up. "What? What are you-" He turned towards the window. "Your kidding... Snowed in?"
Bekah nodded her head. "Yup. Hopefully won't be too long and we have enough supplies here to last us through most natural and unnatural disasters, but we should still-" she cut herself off with a small yelp as he pulled her back into the bed. "What-"
He silenced her with a quick kiss. "The fire will take too long to get us warm. I know a faster way. And a much better way to start off the day..." He smirked before kissing her again.
"I... I can't argue with that." Bekah kissed him back and pulled closer to him. Maybe getting snowed in wasn't such a bad thing after all.
“Bekah! Hot chocolate’s ready!” Angela called from the kitchen. She was holding two mugs filled with piping hot chocolate, the marshmallows and whipped cream in Bekah’s cup almost melting from the heat.
A door slammed and only seconds later, Bekah was beside her. “You are,” she takes the sugar loaded mug, kissing her cheek “the best.” Bekah takes a sip of the sweet treat, but a small yelp follows instead of a satisfied hum.
Angela starts laughing. “It just came out of the pot! Why would you do that? Could you not see the steam?” She puts her own mug down to avoid spilling any of the contents.
Bekah just shakes her head, putting down her mug too. “It was hidden beneath all the whipped cream and marshmallows...” Her speech had a bit of a lisp due to the fresh burn on her tongue. That chocolate really was hot.
“Awww, if only you had listened when I said I was making hot chocolate.” Angie slipped her arms around Bekah and placed a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. “Now, how about we take our mugs of hot chocolate, take a seat on the couch, cuddle up, and watch a cheesy Hallmark movie that we can make fun of.” She picked up her mug and Bekah’s.
A soft laugh left Bekah before she gave Angie a quick kiss. “I would like that. I would like that a lot. I’ll go grab the gingerbread cookies. You go get the movie started. Maybe we can even watch the new Chanukkah movie they’ve put out!” She laughed as she grabbed the plate of cookies and followed her to the television.
Once everything was set up, Bekah wrapped an arm around Angela, pulling her close. “Hey Angie? I love you. Happy holidays.” She smiled and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“I love you too. Happy Holidays, babe.”
(And of course we save our favorite for last...)
Valdimar’s palace was always a quiet place. That is, until Bekah came. Her laughter would fill rooms, the sound of her running echoed through lofty halls, and at night her voice would fill Vald’s room at top volumes. But for right now, the kitchen was the loudest room in the palace.
“Vald!” Bekah laughed as she ran around the kitchen island to get away from him. His hands were covered with flour. “Don’t touch me until you clean your hands!” Her jeans were already covered in handprints and some were even in her hair and on her face.
He laughed softly, stopping in his chase. “My apologies, my dear. You know that I love you.” Vald smiles. “And you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off of you...” He started to stalk forward again.
Bekah matched his moves forward with steps back. “No... No, don’t you dare.” A laugh slips past her lips. She wasn’t fast enough in getting away. Vald had her cornered, but they were both smiling. His floured hands cupped her face and brought her close for a kiss. Bekah hummed happily. “I love you... Though I think we should focus on the actual buns in the actual oven. You can’t make me any more pregnant than I already am.” She placed one of her hands on the soft swell of her stomach.
Vald places a hand over hers, resting his forehead against hers, and smiling. “I know, I know... I’m just... I’m very happy. Because of you. You have made me the happiest man in the world.” He gave her another soft kiss. He doesn’t remember being this happy in so long.
Bekah kisses him back. “And you have made me the happiest woman in the world. Now, let’s get back to baking. Your baby is making me want sugar.” Her nose scrunched up as she smiled. If this is what every winter would look like now for the rest of her life, so be it. She’ll be happy with that. As long as she has Vald and their baby.
#Secret Santa 2020#Shall We Dance#Emotionally Challenged#Melted Hearts#Seashells and Daisies#//Happy christmas
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May 27, 2019: Butterfly-Boyfriend
(previous play)
You can find more information about the authors, translators, content warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on our blog.
Monday, 3:27 pm:
Matteo:
*spent a lovely morning with David at his place*
*he had made breakfast and they sat in the kitchen for a long time with Laura and talked*
*when it was time to shower and get ready, he realized that he didn't have any clean clothes left and they decided to go to the flatshare so Matteo could shower, change and pack new clothes*
*so now arrives at the flatshare with David*
*can see from jackets and shoes that all of his flatmates are home*
*turns to David*
If you still want coffee, you can make some and I'll jump in the shower?
David:
*takes off his jacket and shoes when they arrive at the flatshare and nods at Matteo’s words*
Okay… don’t be too long...
*smiles and looks after him before he goes into the kitchen himself*
*still feels a bit weird going through the cupboards and to just help himself especially when he knows that Matteo and him are not alone*
*starts making some coffee and takes a cup from the cupboard*
*sits down on a stool while he waits for the coffee and scrolls through Instagram*
*pours himself a cup and contemplates going to Matteo’s room but then stays in the kitchen and plays on his phone while he waits for Matteo to be finished with the shower*
*eventually hears a door and footsteps in the corridor and then sees Hans entering the kitchen*
Hans:
*comes into the kitchen to make himself some coffee*
*smiles when he sees David*
Oh, hey… I didn’t hear you get in*
*sees that the coffee is already finished*
Can I have a cup?
*sees David nod, takes his pink santa claus cup and pours himself some coffee*
*leans against the kitchen counter and looks at David*
*thinks that he looks good, somehow relaxed*
I am glad that the two of you finally got together by the way.
*smiles honestly*
Even though that means that I now have two flatmates who are practically no longer at my disposal*
*grins slightly*
David:
*observes Hans as he pours himself some coffee and thinks it’s rude to continue to look at his phone while Hans is in the kitchen*
*smiles at his words*
Thanks. I am too…
*laughs quietly*
*laughs a bit louder at Hans’ next words*
*knows from Matteo that Hans has been upset before about Mia being at Alex’ place so often*
Think of it as having two new semi-flatmates who are basically an addition to the people who are at your disposal...
*shrugs*
*has no idea what Alex is like and whether he and Mia are more often in the flatshare or at his place but thinks that Matteo and he keep it quite balanced, that they are sometimes at his home and sometimes in the flatshare*
Hans:
*laughs at his words*
You haven’t met Alex yet, have you?
*makes a dismissive gesture*
*blows into his cup and sips once*
*then looks at David again*
But I'll gladly take you, my little butterfly-boyfriend...
*smiles again and thinks that he's a really good gay guru and can support Matteo even better if he gets to know David well too*
In any case, it's great that Matteo doesn't hang around in his room stoned for days on end... that was no longer acceptable!
David:
*shakes his head at Hans’ question*
Not yet… I only know him from seeing him at school…
*has to grin at Hans’ dismissive gesture and his next words*
Thanks… I am very relieved, puh…
*laughs*
*gets serious again when he talks about Matteo’s state*
*takes a sip of coffee and nods*
Yes, that is great… and I hope that it doesn’t happen again anytime soon…
*lowers his gaze because he knows exactly of which time Hans is talking about and his bad conscience takes over again*
*then says partly as an apology, partly as justification*
I was just afraid he wouldn't be able to accept it...
*thinks that it's actually none of Hans’ business and that he doesn’t has to justify himself, but now the sentence is out*
*shrugs slightly and takes another sip of coffee*
Hans:
*hears the justification in David’s voice*
Mhm… but well…
*shrugs*
As far as I know you hadn’t told him then, have you?
*quickly adds*
But I understand… really… but I have seen Matteo’s side of it all, you know? He was pretty down…
*sighs slightly because now he's gotten too involved*
I'm sorry, David... the important thing is that you guys worked it out...
David:
*shakes his head and sighs*
No, I haven’t. That was the time when I… when we had no contact and he didn’t know why…
*thinks about Hans’ words and is glad that he understands him at least a bit*
*maybe that's why he doesn't shut the subject down immediately but says*
I didn't think he'd be so miserable. Maybe I would have told him earlier if I had known that... but there's nothing I can do about it now...
*shrugs and takes another sip of coffee*
He told me that he talked to you... anyway... thanks for being there for him...
*nods at Hans’ previous words and smiles slightly *
Yeah, that's the important thing...
Hans:
*smiles slightly when David says that he wouldn’t have thought that Matteo would be so miserable*
Well, it's always hard to believe you mean so much to someone, huh?
*takes another sip of his coffee*
Well, honestly, I was surprised too... I have never seen Matteo like that... that something or someone means that much to him... but you...
*grins slightly*
I've rarely seen anyone so secure and insecure at the same time...
*makes a dismissive gesture when David thanks him*
I didn't say much... just reminded him of what was important...
David:
*blushes when Hans implies how much he means to Matteo and shrugs*
*doesn’t know what to reply to that except that Matteo means as much to him but thinks that’s too personal*
*smiles bitterly when Hans talks about being secure and insecure and mumbles*
I was just insecure... not about my feelings for Matteo, but more about whether it could work with us... and I should have seen that he was pretty sure about that... I think that Matteo's insecurity was my fault...
*takes another sip of his coffee and then grins slightly when Hans says he didn't do much*
Well, at least you didn't tell him, "That guy treats you like shit, he's not worth going after."
Hans:
*nods slowly*
*smiles a bit*
He was pretty sure… until you gave him the cold shoulder… then he was insecure, but also somehow not…
*thinks about their talk at easter*
I think he was just pretty confused…
*laughs at David’s last sentence*
No not that… I expect thank-you cards and flowers at the known address.
*tilts his head and examines David*
*thinks about how much to tell him*
*but just goes for it*
I told him to give you time or forget about you... so maybe the thank-you cards should go to him for choosing the first option.
David:
*listens to Hans and nods*
*can imagine that Matteo was confused - probably even more after he suddenly sent him the drawings*
*thinks not for the first time that they could have had it a lot easier if he just had a little more courage and talked to Matteo earlier*
*but then grins at Hans' demand*
You can get that at Matteo's and my one-year anniversary… for today it has to be enough that I made coffee...
*takes the last sip and gets up to pour himself another coffee *
*fills up on Hans' cup as well*
*then continues to listen to Hans and nods again*
*but then thinks that neither of the two options are actually true and that he is glad about it - glad that Matteo thought at some point that he had enough time now, which was somehow true*
*then grins and tries to chase away the bitter thoughts*
Well, you didn't know me then... or you might not have mentioned the second option...
*sits down again*
Hans:
*laughs slightly and nods*
At your one-year anniversary… well, well… I’ll come back to you about that.
*laughs again at his second sentence, now a bit louder*
I like that. Yes, if I had known you back then I would have known that it’s impossible to forget about you.
*thanks him for the coffee and adds some milk*
You know, I think it's not the worst thing that you had a rocky start… that also strengthens the relationship and then you know for sure that you want to be together… I am sure we will celebrate your ten-year anniversary as well.
David:
*laughs when Hans tells him that one can’t forget about him*
*blows in his coffee and continues to listen to him*
*thinks about Hans’ words and smiles*
I sure hope so… I mean in regards to the ten-year anniversary…
*briefly presses his lips together as he formulates his thoughts in his head and runs his hand over his neck*
Uhm… I do think that it strengthened our relationship… somehow. Of course there is still a little bit of uncertainty - everything is still very new. But I think, after all the back and forth we are at least both sure that the other one really feels the same and wants this relationship as much as oneself...
*shrugs*
… and that it is okay to be the way you are.
*remembers how quickly Matteo came to terms with the fact that he's trans and how he just takes everything as it comes because it seems like he only sees David as a person and everything else is completely irrelevant*
*notices how his heartbeat picks up speed at his affection for Matteo and blushes*
*quickly grabs his cup of coffee and sips his way-too-hot coffee*
Hans:
*only grins at the mention of the ten-year anniversary*
*tilts his head a bit as David continues talking*
*feels honored that he shares his feelings so openly with him*
*gets a little touchy when he hears David talking like that and sees him blushing*
Yes, yes my little butterfly, he had a lot to learn but then he flew beautifully*
*smiles at David*
And found a beautiful butterfly-boyfriend. I am so happy for you.
Matteo:
*comes into the kitchen in new clothes but with his hair still wet - who needs a hair dryer?!*
*asks with raised eyebrows*
Butterfly-boyfriend?
*passes Hans and wants to go to the coffee pot, which is empty by now*
*sighs, then goes to David, gives him a kiss and steals his cup*
*grins widely and takes a quick sip before he gives it back*
*looks astonished from one to the other as no one says anything*
Am I interrupting?
David:
*laughs at Hans' butterfly metaphors and says*
We need some kind of stupid nickname for you too...
*then sees that Matteo's back from the shower and immediately smiles*
Hey...
*puts his arms around Matteo when he stands next to him and steals his cup*
*shakes his head at his question and grins lightly*
Not in the slightest! Hans and I were just talking about our ten-year anniversary...
*looks up at him to see his reaction*
Matteo:
*raises his eyebrows and looks from David to Hans and back*
*wonders what happened here*
Your ten-year anniversary?
*steals the cup again as David doesn’t seem to mind*
*takes another sip and then grins at David*
And from which date do you start counting? Today or your sausage meeting?
David:
*hears Hans laugh and also has to laugh out loud at Matteo's question*
*nudges him slightly into the side*
Not between Hans and me - ours!
*hears Hans: "But if the little butterfly already gives us such a template, maybe we should actually celebrate our ten-year anniversary! Maybe there will be some cake left over from your anniversary, which we can use."*
*grins slightly and says*
Owww, yeah, cake sounds good! And pudding!
*looks at Matteo again*
With a ten on it?
*wiggles with his eyebrows*
*then he hears Hans' phone vibrate, sees him get up and grab his cup*
*hears him say, "Work that out yourselves, my dears! This is Andi..."*
*sees him leave the kitchen*
Matteo:
*laughs because he really didn't think about that*
*but catches himself enjoying the idea of celebrating anniversaries with David*
*grins at him just a little*
I seeeeeeee, /that/ ten-year anniversary...
*then laughs again*
Sure, with a ten on it, and big balloons with a ten on it, and sandwiches, of course...
*just looks at Hans briefly when he disappears, and then back to David*
So you guys were talking about /our/ ten-year anniversary, huh?
David:
*grins*
Of course with sandwiches!
*lets Matteo go because he thinks that maybe he wants to sit down too and thinks for a moment whether he should offer to make him another coffee, but then hears his question and shrugs with slightly reddened cheeks*
Hans said that our rocky start probably made us know for sure that we want to be together... that it probably strengthened us somehow and that he is pretty sure that we will not only celebrate our one-year but also our ten-year anniversary...
* grins a little insecurely because he doesn't know whether Matteo sees this more as a joke or a serious thought*
Matteo:
*laughs when David tells him what they talked about*
Sounds like Hans...
*sits down on the stool next to David*
*thinks that in some mysterious way Hans always knew exactly what he needed to hear and therefore probably understands and knows him better than he thought at first*
*is glad that David and Hans obviously immediately got along well*
*then grins a little*
I had to call him Gay Guru so he'd give me tips. So I guess he knows what he's talking about.
*bends down and gives David a grinning kiss*
So I'd say it must be true what he says...
David:
*laughs*
Gay Guru!? Oh well… we need a nickname for him as soon as possible…
*thinks at the butterflies*
*grins and meets Matteo halfway*
*then says*
Even if the things he says are true... someday that will get to his head.
*peeps into his coffee cup where just a little puddle of coffee is left and then looks at Matteo*
Besides, he drank all the coffee. Shall I make some more? I mean, you barely got any of it.
Matteo:
*also laughs*
Yes, Gay Guru, you can try it with another nickname but I am not sure if he will let you.
*nods at Davis’s suggestion*
More coffee would be great…
*leans back on his stool and watches David as he gets up and moves towards the coffee machine*
*gets the now familiar warm tingle in his stomach area as David moves around the kitchen, knowing exactly where everything is and getting everything ready*
*smiles to himself and can't take his eyes off*
David:
*grins slightly*
IfI ever think of something creative and silly then he has to accept it…
*nods when Matteo wants more coffee and smiles*
Okay…
*gets up and fills new water and coffee powder into the coffee machine*
* looks at Matteo and realizes he's watching him*
*get a little nervous and smiles slightly*
*then gets a new cup for Matteo out of the cupboard and out of the corner of his eye sees that he is still looking at him*
*grins slightly and puts the cup on the table in front of Matteo*
*mumbles quietly*
You are watching me…
*grins slightly*
Matteo:
*isn’t put off, even when David looks back*
*grins when he puts down the cup and even more at his words*
Maybe...
*grabs his hip and pull a little so David gets closer*
*then shrugs one shoulder*
I like looking at you...
*looks at him with a smile*
Besides, this is kind of good... you here... in my kitchen...
David:
*laughs softly at his "maybe" and mumbles*
I'm pretty sure about that...
*comes closer to Matteo when he pulls on his hip and is now sort of between his legs*
*smiles when Matteo says he likes to look at him, but feels himself blush a little and briefly lowers his gaze in embarrassment*
*sees Matteo smile whenhe looks up again and puts his hands around Matteo's hip*
*grins slightly*
...me here... in your kitchen... making coffee.
*but thinks he knows what Matteo means and has to think about how wonderful and good it feels when Matteo moves around in his apartment as if he were at home there, as if he had always belonged there*
Matteo:
*doesn’t stop grinning*
*nods*
Exactly…
*then stretches a little to give him a kiss *
*then mumbles softly*
If I could get used to that...
David:
*pfft’s quietly, but then gets kissed and moves a little closer to Matteo*
*grumbles as Matteo breaks the kiss, but mumbles back*
You're a much better coffee brewer than I am...
*grins again and continues to kiss him this time a little longer*
*enjoys Matteo's company and the familiar smell of Matteo's shower gel *
*mumbles into the kiss*
You smell nice...
*then has to grin, breaks the kiss and adds*
...you should shower more often…
Matteo:
*shakes his head*
Nonsense... it's just putting powder in it...
*kisses him back and pulls him even closer*
*has to grin as well*
*yet looks at David outraged as he breaks the kiss*
*and even more so at his next words*
*pushes him a bit away*
Are you implying I stink?
David:
*laughs as Matteo pushes him away and immediately approaches him again*
*pulls him closer and wraps his arms around him even when he defends himself*
I wouldn't dare saying that...
*grins and looks at him with doggy eyes*
*but then get serious and shakes his head*
You always smell good... always like Matteo...
*associates some sappy things with it in his head: home, "mine", love, familiarity, ...- but doesn't say any of it to avoid embarrassment*
Matteo:
*laughs*
Sure, that’s what I'd say too...
*but, of course, immediately wraps his arms around David again*
*smiles when he sees the look on David's face*
Hey...
*puts one hand up on his neck, half in his hair*
*ask softly*
With your thoughts elsewhere?
David:
*is glad that Matteo's resistance is easing and he's putting his arms around him again*
*looks into his eyes when he talks to him and feels his hand on the back of his neck*
*feels his heart beat a little faster and smiles slightly*
*shakes his head at his question and says softly*
Still with you and everything you smell like...
*leans a little bit against Matteo's hand on the back of his neck*
Matteo:
*smiles at his response*
*starts rubbing the back of his neck a little*
Sweat, coffee, musty socks, right now shower gel?
David:
*briefly closes his eyes when Matteo begins rubbing the back of his neck but still listens to him*
*has to grin a bit*
*shakes his head, nods, shakes his head again and nods again*
*opens his eyes and looks at him again*
… and like a lot of other sappy things...
Matteo:
*laughs at his head movement but then smiles softly at his response*
Idiot…
*doesn't ask any more questions, but pulls him close to kiss him*
(next play)
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https://www.jayconner.com/jim-sheils-and-18-summers/
Jay Conner (00:02):
Alright, Scott! It looks like we are live streaming right now. So come on up here up front Scott and join me for a moment and we'll hang out before we officially start. So what's going on in Metagene Columbia right now?
Scott Paton (00:23):
Well, it's another beautiful day. We're having a, it's, we're excited because in a few days the quarantine is over and it will be replaced by who knows what it's not going to be like everybody opening up and dancing and sightseeing, and eating and drinking like they did before. But it's easing off, which is really good. We're very fortunate here compared to Peru and Ecuador, and certainly Brazil in that we've had a lot lower number of people who have died and a lot lower number of people who have been sick. So they're a little concerned that if they open it up too fast, everyone will be, will get ill. But I'm suspecting if we've been pretty much alone for a month and a half or two months to the corona virus has done its thing and it's time to get out and get some fresh air and be out in the mountains. So...
Jay Conner (01:13):
Yeah. Well, my lands! I've heard you say over the last few weeks that they don't let you go outside for one hour a day.
Scott Paton (01:22):
Only one hour a day. Two to three, and you have to be under 60 years old. So I've cheated on that one. But I don't get away with it because I look 25. So...
Jay Conner (01:34):
You definitely look less than 60 that's for sure. I was going to say, though, they like to do different hours for different. Like, if your name ends in a P like Paton, you got a certain hour, you go out or they just let the whole world up for an hour.
Scott Paton (01:48):
Well, isn't that weird, right? The whole world comes out from an hour. Now they pick two to three, which is the hottest time. So most people don't want to go out and you have one day a week where we're based on the last number of your like driver's license. You can go shopping in the big stores, but the little shops like around me, they are just happy to see me. They don't care what they have of the week. It is. And so it's kind of a little bit loosey goosey that way,
Jay Conner (02:14):
Mercy. So if you're just now coming into the live stream, go ahead and type in the comments section and let us know what's, where you are tuning in from. Cause we always like to know. And I got a really special guest that I'm going to be introducing to you in just a moment. But before I do, I want to let everybody know what we've got going on for the next two Fridays, I've got two free trainings. And you can go learn all about it. And these are actually free. This coming Friday, May 29th. And then again on June 5th, Friday, you can go to www.JayConner.com/fortune. And one, we'll be talking about the next two Fridays, this coming Friday, it's going to be a position or teaching you the 30,000 foot view of my foreclosure system, how it is that we you know, locate foreclosures before other real estate investors know about them.
Jay Conner (03:19):
And as pertains to COVID-19 I had to learn how to do this virtually. So again, that's 9:00 AM Eastern to 5:00 PM Eastern, this coming Friday. And then again on June 5th I call it, I'm gonna be teaching how to get what I call free private money. And that is of course you all know I'm known as the private money authority, but how you can actually get your deals funded without even having to raise private money. So again, you can go over to JayConner.com/fortune and learn. And get registered. Okay. Get registered to attend for these two upcoming Fridays.
Scott Paton (04:04):
So Jay I just want to cut you off just for a second, and just say that we had our first Friday last Friday, it was awesome. We had over 2,500 attendees for the, throughout the eight hours. Pretty amazing. And when you go to JayConner.com/fortune at Jay is talking about private money, he's the private money authority last Friday. And I put the embed of that full eight hours of training on that same page. So you can watch it, whether you register or not. But if you want to see the next step, like these all fit together very nicely, then make sure you go, you register, see what happened last week, and then you'll be prepared, really prepared for what's going to happen this coming Friday. And we're really excited about what we're going to be sharing with you.
Jay Conner (04:50):
And there is Dan! Hello, Dan Mewhorter. A mastermind member. Jay, these free sessions are incredible packed full of content. Anyone enters through the learning how to get into real estate investing or need to up their game need to be on this. Awesome. Dan! Thank you for the shout out. Alright, well, Scott, I'm ready to officially start this show and podcast. How about that?
Scott Paton (05:16):
Alright, here we go.
Jay Conner (05:17):
Alright. I'm going to give you three seconds of silence and here we go.
Jay Conner (05:31):
Well, hello everybody. And welcome to another episode of real estate investing with Jay Conner. I'm your host, Jay Conner. Known as the private money authority. And I'm just so glad you're here. So you may be viewing live on the stream yard right now, or you may be listening to our podcast. It's on iTunes and Google play. Or you may be watching on YouTube or et cetera. Regardless as to whether you're watching or listening live, or you are listening or watching the replay, we're glad you're here. And, you know, we launched my podcast, we've launched the show. My lands! It was June, 2018. I can't believe that much time has gone by. Anyway, we have another show today and I've got a very special guest we're in a high end mastermind meeting together, and his name is Jim Sheils. Let me tell you a little bit about Jim and then we're going to bring him in from the green room.
Jay Conner (06:27):
So Jim has been a full time real estate investor all the way back since 1999. So Jim's been doing it longer than me. I went full time in 2003 and Jim's ventures have done over 1000 acquisitions and rehabs. That's a lot of properties. So, getting a star in the Bakersfield, California, a left there in 2005, headed over to Northeast Florida. That's where he is now. So thought of the longterm growth patterns that were predicted for that area. So after 2008, and of course it was your recall. It was because of 2008 and 2009. That's how I became known as the private money authority. I was cut off from the banks and learn how to get a lot of private money fast. Nonetheless, after 2008 Jim's company did a bulk of foreclosure properties until switching their model to new construction, to adapt to the changing market conditions and needs.
Jay Conner (07:29):
So Jim, forming a very dynamic of building partnership called Jack's wealth investments. They now focus on catering to investors in single family and small multiunit development in Jacksonville, Ocala, Palm coast and Atlanta, Georgia as well. Now, the big reason that I've got Jim here on the show today is because he runs a family education company called 18 summers. And I can't wait to hear the story behind him naming it that. But what this education company does it specialize in talks, workshops and retreats for entrepreneur families. They all, Jim also wrote his bestselling book titled the family board meeting that went to number one and categories of relationships, parenting and entrepreneurship. So Jim is an expert in training and teaching on how to have balance in your life and in your business. In addition to that, Jim is also an avid surfer. Andrew was traveling with his family, particularly when we come out of COVID-19, the travel will be turned back on and especially loves traveling with his beautiful wife, Jamie. And their four children. So anyway, what an adventurous guy and Jim's greatest adventure today was donating a kidney to the greatest guy on this planet from his perspective. And that of course, was his father. So with that, Jim, welcome to the show.
Jim Sheils (09:06):
Hey Jay, good to see you! Good to be here,
Jay Conner (09:09):
Great to see you fellow CG member. Great to have you here on the show, Jim. So I'm just so excited to have this conversation with you about balancing life, balancing business, and to learn more about your workshops and your, and your retreats that you do. But I gave, I gave the folks part of your background, but you started back in 1999. How did you start? What got you into it?
Jim Sheils (09:35):
Yeah, I had always wanted to do something on my own and like most entrepreneurs, I started delving into everything from franchises to other business opportunities and I kept falling back on real estate and I like the tangibility of it. It made sense to me, you know, how to, how to take something and pull the levers to add cash flow, to add equity. That made sense. And so I just slowly started going into real estate investments out in central California, where it was where, Bakersfield, California was the blood of Johnny Carson's jokes for years, but it was an investor's playground where property started at 40 to $50,000, which is a lot better than you know, Santa Barbara County to two hours over the medium price is 900,000. So I just I had always had, yeah, it was crazy, crazy, crazy. So, yeah, that's how I got my start. I knew I wanted to do something on my own. I just started getting training in real estate and pulling the trigger, you know, and I always joke, what's your, what's the best real estate class you ever took? And I say 432 North M street. That was the first property I ever bought 21 years ago. So that was my best lesson ever.
Jay Conner (10:49):
Wow! That's an amazing story. So, in your introduction that I was sharing with folks you did like over a thousand acquisitions and rehabs and et cetera, but what was it that caused you to switch over to your new model and tell everybody more about what your new model is?
Jim Sheils (11:12):
Yeah, well, I guess I always wore that badge on my shoulder, right? I'm a rehabber! I'm a rehabber! And you know, it's tough to teach the old dog new tricks and I was the old dog by then. You got used to something and we did really well coming out of 2008 here, you know, when there was all that bank inventory, we got really good at finding foreclosures and renovating them and putting them in our own portfolio or working with other investors to build theirs. And the problem was Jay, about five years ago, man, those numbers started to change. You know, they were getting bid up. The numbers weren't making sense. You'd have to cut corners if you really want to make the numbers work. And I don't like to cut corners. So my now building partner who I had done deals with before said, you know, we should try some new construction.
Jim Sheils (11:59):
And that was almost like, wow! What are you saying? Don't, Those are, that's a terrible word. We're rehabbers. And sure enough, it was the right thing to do because we weren't able to find old house inventory anymore where the numbers worked, but although new construction, so we basically do build a rent. Now we build new construction homes that are designed just for investment property and we focused on single family, duplexes and quads. But what we've been able to find is better inventory. It takes longer, there's more effort to it, Jay, you know, so we had to, you know, learn some new muscles with developing and zoning and longer timeframes, but overall for ourselves and our clients, it's more predictable, better areas, better properties, better longevity just a stronger overall investment. So it's, it was a big jump five years ago, but I'm really glad to the point now where I used to have that big rehab badge on my shoulder. I refuse to do rehabs anymore. I just won't do. I've just completely switched over to the other side.
Jay Conner (12:59):
Okay. Excellent. Excellent. Well, let's dive right on in to 18 summers. And what that is? How you got the name? And why you started doing it?
Jim Sheils (13:14):
Yeah. So 18 summers was a lesson that a mentor of mine taught me. I first started doing family talks and I had written my book, you know, a bunch of years ago. And he said to me, Jim, you're really onto something because there's so much out there that's available for the entrepreneur to grow their business, but not to keep their family intact. And what I always wanted to see, and I saw this at a young age, I got, I was able to get on stages at a young age at different events. Cause I had some success in real estate, but I saw some people who were highly successful in business and they were completely failing at home. And frankly Jay, that scared me. I didn't want that to be me. So this was out of my own necessity and need to make sure that I stayed in that success in business and success at home combination.
Jim Sheils (13:58):
And so my mentor was talking about that and he said, look, the years are not all created equal. You've got 18 summers. And he's like, and I looked it up. The stats show 85% of quality time people. The average person ever gets with their family. Their children occurs by the end of the 18th summer because then they start to go off and the amount of timeframe goes down and that just gave me a positive motivation. And now when I went into my talks and workshops that gave the same positive motivation to others, how do we make the most of that time without taking away ambition? Cause I'm very ambitious, you know, being an entrepreneur, but I want to have that double success, Jay success in work and success at home. So 18 summers became, I believe the only family education outlet designed specifically for entrepreneur families to make sure that you can have the best of both worlds.
Jay Conner (14:46):
I got you. That's fantastic. So let me let you put on your training hat on your coaching hat right now and share with our audience, what are some of the strategies that you, that you teach and train at your workshops on how to achieve that kind of balance.
Jim Sheils (15:12):
Sure. Let's go through a couple of principles that I think will stick with people. One of the best compliments I get is what we teach is very, stickable, it's easy to understand, easy to buy into, easy to apply and see results. So let's give a couple of those today. You know, going through our world changed as you know, Jay post COVID, you know, it's, everything got brought home work, family school, you know, everything's happening from home. So couple of things came into life. And one of the things is the importance that you have in the position of your family, of setting the leadership tone, you know, focus, breeds, increase, and people were talking about toddler meltdowns and teen grumpiness. Can those things be eliminated? No, but they can be minimized. And I believe a lot of it has to do with how are you handling your self in front of your family?
Jim Sheils (16:02):
You are setting the tone. And sometimes we forget that. That it's, that trickle down effect. And so I always try to remind people what tone are you setting at home? You know what tone are you setting? And one of the worst tones that you can set when you're having a bad business deal, when everyone's pulled up onto the sidelines, by something like a COVID-19 is, do you have the awareness to step back and say, Hey, this is not my family's fault. Now, a lot of people don't even think about that, but that's really important because you get wrapped up in a deal going wrong, or you're taking a call in your living room, which you shouldn't be, you should be separated and your kids act like a kid and yell and you get upset, you know, or you say, well, no, I'm not taking it out on them.
Jim Sheils (16:47):
But when you stop and think, if we're showing shortness, anxiety, a little bitterness and our family's feeling the brunt, and it has something to do with business and not them, that's not a good tone to set. We got to remember, it's not our family's fault when these big things happen. And also we set the leadership tone. And if we can show ourselves to be stronger leaders, more calm, more playful, more not, I'm not saying overly optimistic, you know, like purple, you know, the Rose colored glasses, but that sets a tone that will trickle down to your spouse and children. So one of the most important jobs is as the leaders, that...
Jay Conner (17:25):
What I love about that principle and I'm glad you call that principle because what you just said is so foundational. What I love about it, it reminds me of a Jack Canfield's very first principle in his book, success principles, which is, I am 100% responsible. Right? And what you just went over is you are bringing to light there that what we're experiencing in our home life is a manifestation of us. That's excellent. Excellent! Very foundational.
Jim Sheils (18:07):
Then it gets us back to the foundation back to the core. And that's really important, especially when you're thrown into a bunch of deals or you're thrown into a pandemic, we all get shook up. So then we have to breathe in and reground our feet. And that's one of the best things to remember. I set the tone. And I'm not going to set it perfectly, but the better I set it, the better things are going to be. So that's a big one. A second one Jay, that I love is, we all heard about in COVID again, not to keep going back to COVID COVID about social distancing, right? That's I get it. That's, that made sense. But what about tech distancing? The principle of tech distancing, Jay is absolutely essential right now essential. And it's got two parts to it. First, if your home don't be worked puking in your living room.
Jim Sheils (18:58):
So let's say you're standing there, your family's having a great family moment that buzz in your pocket happens with a text where you're taking a phone call. And then all of a sudden you're getting heated in front of them, or you get off the phone and you're standing there with a scalp because something didn't go right. You've now just mixed over the lines. And that's just not fair. It's your, we call it half in parenting. You're trying to be part of the family. Take the tough work call and especially through pandemic or something. They might have been some pretty heavy conversations and maybe it's not something our younger kids needed to hear. I always say first step in tech distancing is you gotta distance yourself from your family to take calls, emails, and then before you step in and take a few deep breaths, and then you go back again.
Jim Sheils (19:42):
But I can tell you the day two of the pandemic, Jay, I was helping someone who was in a bad real estate way. And they were in commercial. They had a bunch of lease stores. It was heavy. And I was feeling like they're getting taken advantage of, and I was, I was passionate. I cared about this person and their deal. Well, I'm texting, I'd put the thing away. And I'm kind of talking to myself like the crazy entrepreneur I am. My little five-year-old standing in front of me. And she goes, daddy, why are you so mad at me?
Jim Sheils (20:08):
I didn't even see her standing there. And so it's like, wow! Again, talking about setting the leadership tone. I said, there's a time and a place for these calls. And it's not right in the kitchen with my kids around me. So the first step of tech distancing have a time and a place. Whether if you couldn't get to your office, I don't care if it's a closet or your car, we're going to take those emails. You're going to take those calls. You're going to find a quiet place. Even though I have four loud kids to do a podcast, right? So that we can talk and we can do this. And then the second side of tech distancing, Jay, is you have to have times of being completely and totally unavailable to work, to be with the people in front of you.
Jim Sheils (20:44):
If you're always snagging that text or that Facebook thread or that call or email, you'll never truly be present. You'll always be getting pulled out of things and then you'll be going, geez, we don't really seem that connected. And we've all tried that where we fake, like we're listening to our spouse or one of our children. And they notice, we think maybe they didn't notice that we didn't hear what the hell they said, but it just sets a really bad tone. So you gotta have times where you're completely and totally unavailable. Shut off. We do a shut off every day at our house, Jay 5:30 to 7:30. It is the tech fast tech distancing. There's no phone, no laptop, no TV. Everyone is just, we're not sitting there staring at each other, but all tech is off. So that way, you know, the people right in front of us. So the conversation can flow without an interruption.
Jay Conner (21:34):
That is an excellent suggestion. I mean, what I do to where I'm not even tempted to, you know, respond to this, right? I can put it in another room. Where I can't see it. I can't hear it vibrate. And I love this again, principle that you're sharing and it, you were explaining it. It reminds me of a mentor that I had decades ago. And he used to tell me all the time. He said, Jay, wherever you are, be there!
Jim Sheils (22:15):
I'll tell you real estate investors. We wear this badge. Like I'm always available. I gotta work this deal. Almost anything can wait two hours. Almost anything. And there is nothing more rude. We say, well, we got to provide, we've got to protect. We've got to get the deal through. I get it. I've been a real estate investor 20 years. But to jump up from the dinner table for a mundane detail is setting a really bad example for what matters most. And for, would you want your kids doing that down the road? The answer is probably no. So a little bit...
Jay Conner (22:49):
Again, you're setting the example. I love it.
Jim Sheils (22:53):
Exactly. It'll go down. It's tech distancing is a very powerful and simple. When people think about it, it's okay to turn off and recharge. Even as a real estate investor, you know, a one hour a day can do wonders if you're doing it during the things during, during certain hours where you're around your family, you'll start to see, wow, we're having a deeper conversation. I actually am seeing things I'm actually listening. This is incredible. But even if that phone just on, you're waiting for that "zzt-zzt", you know, in that pocket, your brain goes out the window. So practice tech distancing, Jay, it works huge. Another thing that's really important right now, especially this is good. Especially you being the private money guy, you know, non QM money went away.
Jim Sheils (23:33):
You know what I mean? There's lots of stuff that's changed. I believe certain real estate is going to do phenomenal. Others are going to be challenged, but Jay, if I learned anything in 2008 and we survived 2008, we were heavily invested in California, in Florida at the time, that was not a pretty sight to go through 2008. You know, values dropped 60% wrench dropped 40% a totally different time. And I'm more excited now, obviously then I wasn't no wait, but let me tell you, Jay, there's two things people have to look for right now. This is going to be good for real estate investors. You should get support, but there's two types of support out there. There's moral support and there's technical support. Now in 2008, I would take as much moral support as I could get. You should be given some of your friends and family coming through the pandemic or a challenge, moral support, but you might not be in the position to give technical support.
Jim Sheils (24:24):
And there's a big difference. I remember in '08, people were wanting to help me, you know, through the real estate things. They wanted to give me technical support and they weren't really in the position to do so. Where I'm sure Jay you've had the same thing where, you know private money. But there's sometimes you see that out there. It's almost like the Baker's trying to teach you how to cut meat. It doesn't go together. Right? If you go to the butcher to learn how to cut meat, not the Baker, go to the Baker for baking the bread, but there's always that crossover. So I always encourage people to save efficiency and effectiveness, to have more time with your family. There's two types of support out there. There's moral support take as much as you can and give as much as you can. There's technical support, technical support, Jay.
Jim Sheils (25:09):
There's probably, I bet you you'd say there's probably maybe three, four people in the world. You'd feel comfortable talking on your niche and that's it. And that's what I've learned. There's only about two to three groups that I go to for overall, what's the economy going to do real estate wise. And I go to people who have a track record, people who called things for many more years than I've been even investing. And have real teams set up that show track record. And I think that's really important right now in today's day and age, you want to get the best results, like exactly what you're doing. You're giving technical support. Cause you've been there done that, but the problem is sometimes we still go for technical support to people who aren't really in the position to give it, if that makes sense.
Jay Conner (25:48):
Yeah. What does giving moral support mean to you? What does giving moral support look like or sound like?
Jim Sheils (26:00):
So for example, I had friends that really struggled in retail post COVID. I could give them moral support, Jay. I've never done large retail. I've never had thousands of employees. That just wasn't my thing. So there was a fringe type of technical, but for the most part of saying, Hey, I'm thinking about you, you know, hang in there, you know, there's, there's gotta be other guys going through this, find out what they're doing, but I wasn't going to be the one to stand up on the lifeguard chair and point for where they should go. Cause frankly, I didn't know. So, the advice is more to tell him, to keep going to hang in there. Call if you need anything, don't get too down on yourself. Remember self-worth and network's got nothing to do with each other. Your family is still gonna be there no matter what happens, your real friends will be there. That's that's moral support. Technical support is saying, look, here's how you renegotiate a, you know, a multi package lease. Here are the groups that are holding off on inventory control, where you could get your inventory paid down to a third of what they would have charged you. I don't know how to do that. I'm no, it has to. So I'd be, I'd be faking it and that wouldn't be right to do to them.
Jay Conner (27:15):
Yeah. Yeah. I believe I agree with everything you just said. And in addition to that, sometimes the best moral support that we can give people is a sincere listening ear.
Jim Sheils (27:31):
That's a lot. Sometimes you don't have to say anything, they just get it off their chest, you release it. I remember I had a lot of releasing conversations in 2008, Jay. And people just listened and that's sometimes that, it clears your head just to get it out. And that's really powerful.
Jay Conner (27:51):
Dan Mewhorter is here with us live. He just come in one of the great things about Jay Conner's masterminds that we give and get moral support and technical support. Well, that's so true. And that's a great thing about masterminds. You know, the mastermind that you and I are in Jim. That's all about giving and receiving the technical support and the moral support, you know, and plus another thing that I've discovered over the years when it comes to us entrepreneurs and I'm, my experience has been this relates to men and women. There's just not the majority of the people walking around. Don't understand us, does not understand balls. So it's like, you know, like a lot of people don't understand on people that are listening to this podcast, they get it because people listening to this show have an entrepreneur spirit, or they're interested in entrepreneurial things. But now we have this thing called it's hard to turn this real estate off in between our ears. Right? And you know, people accused us of being workaholics. Well you know, it's really a challenge not to do what I did because I don't even view it as work. It's just what we do. But anyway, these are great strategies. If you have one more strategy you want to share with us or did you, or do you keep it to three?
Jim Sheils (29:26):
Yeah, I do keep it to threes, but let me, let me give you a bonus one that's been really powerful for people. And this is like the cheat of cheats. You know, if, if you want a healthy shortcut, this is one of them, your spouse, your children. If you want to have a good relationship with each of them or up the odds of that. You gotta have one on one time, one on one time, this is something I learned in our retreats. Cause we would do whole family retreats and just two retreats with one parent, one child. The potency of one on one time, like a date with your spouse a day with your phone off. And just one of your children, let's say you're crazy like me and have four. It just, it puts the magnifying glass on the relationship in a positive way.
Jim Sheils (30:10):
And it opens up new conversations and attention that, you know, big family gatherings won't. Like I come from an Irish Catholic family, which means I have like 7,000 cousins, you know, and that's, that's great, but those big, those big events are great, but it's the one on one time that had the biggest effect on my marriage and on the relationship with my kids. So I would say just like, you're going to schedule with your biggest investors to find your deals, schedule one on one time with your spouse and your children. And you'll be amazed the difference and the depth that you get to just by those deposits of one on one time. It works.
Jay Conner (30:48):
I love it. I love it. But Jim, I can tell you what I also know, just in our visit here on the show, you've got a servant's heart. I pick up on it. And I appreciate you coming on here and sharing just fantastic information on how people to really take care of themselves, grow their relationships, nurture the relationships that they have. So let's give out your website, Jim, because I know our listeners and audience would really like to continue to connect with you.
Jim Sheils (31:21):
Yeah. If you're interested in our build to rent model, you just go to JaxWealthInvestments.com And if you want a little help on the family side, making sure that your family is successful as your business grows just go visit us at 18summers.com. That's 18Summers.com
Jay Conner (31:42):
That's awesome. Jim, thank you so much. I appreciate you brother.
Jim Sheils (31:46):
Thank you, Jay. Good to be here.
Jay Conner (31:48):
Okay, everybody there, you have another show. I'm Jay Conner, the private money authority. Everybody stay safe. You're in the midst of a COVID-19 as we come out on the other side and I'm wishing you all the best here's to taking your real estate investing business to the next level. We'll see you on the next show. Bye for now.
To listen to our Podcast, click here:
https://realestateinvestingdeals.mypodcastworld.com/10662/jim-shiels-and-18-summers-part-one
https://realestateinvestingdeals.mypodcastworld.com/10664/jim-shiels-and-18-summers-parttwo
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107 The Good Place Prompts
Eleanor Shellstrop
1 “I just don't think the group thing is for me. I'm better when it's one-one-one and we're both looking at our phones and I don't know the other person and we don't talk.”
2 “The closest thing I could find to herbal tea was a root beer I had them throw in the microwave.”
3 “Whenever anyone tells me a story about their life I always imagine all the people as being super hot. Otherwise, I quickly lose interest. Do you not do that? You can do it for free.”
4 “I'm SO ready to learn, it's like my brain is HORNY!”
5 “What can you possibly say to us that will make up for your actions?” “Pobody's nerfect?”
6 “You don't seem like a ... super genius.”
7 “Ugh, of course your hugs are amazing.”
8 “Oh, so now I'm supposed to be nice and make friends and treat him:her with mutual respect?” “Yeah!” “That's exactly what he/she wants me to do, NAME, wake up!” “That's what everyone wants everyone to do.”
9 “Your friend sounds like he’s/she's one pickle short of a pickle party.”
10 “I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed.” “Oh, come on. Everyone knows that's worse.”
11 “I know it sounds crazy, but if it weren’t crazy they wouldn’t call it a ‘leap of faith.’ They would call it a ‘sit … of ... doubting.’”
12 “Buzz off, Bambadjan.”
13 “Where is everyone?” “Who knows? Maybe they finally figured out clam chowder is disgusting, 'cause it's basically a savory latte with bugs in it.”
14 “First of all, throwing sand is an excellent way to put out a vodka fire.” “Why would you even know that?!”
15 “No, NAME, I used to do that. Now I do selfless things without even thinking about it.”
16 “Why don't I ever listen to people when they talk about themselves? No, it's annoying, and I'm right not to.”
17 “Are you going to talk? Or just walk around like a nerd trying to get a personal best on his Fitbit?”
18 “I guess ‘try and enjoy this’ is a better plan than ‘have the anxiety sweats.’’
19 “I’ve only ever said ‘I love you’ to two men my entire life, Stone Cold Steve Austin and a guy in a dark club who I mistook for Stone Cold Steve Austin.”
20 “Is that some kind of nerd pick-up line? Because it’s only kind of working.”
21 “You know I’m trying to say ash-hole instead of ash-hole, right?”
22 “It’s suddenly very important that I get drunk.”
23 “Well fork you, too.”
24 “Holy mother-forking shirtballs.”
25 “‘You’re not better than me’ was my yearbook quote.”
Tahani Al-Jamal
26 “You guys came to say goodbye because you're my friends.” “Well, I suppose some part of me possibly has a sense of casual kinship with you, much as one might be fond of a street cat.”
27 “I would say I outdid myself, but I’m always this good. So I simply did myself.”
28 “NAME, you seem thoughtful. And that concerns me.”
29 “I, NAME, shall do my level best to make every event too much.”
30 “I just want to sit and stare at nothing, and silently scream for the rest of time.”
31 “I made a complete fool of myself tonight. I interrupted your big speech and badly stained my cargo pants, which, I have to admit, are quite comfortable. Oh, God, what’s happened to me? I’m praising off-the-rack separates!”
32 “Who else feels that NAME has ruined every moment of your existence since you arrived?”
33 “Right now I'm just a boy/girl, towering over a boy/girl, asking him/her to admit he/she loves me.”
34 “My whole life, whenever I encountered any obstacles, I would simply say, ‘I would like to speak to a manager.’ But in our relationship, there was no manager. There was no one who could fix this for me except me.”
Chidi Anagonye
35 “I’m just not a ‘new experience’ kind of guy. My comfort zone is basically like, that chair, and honestly? The arms are a little sharp.”
36 “Here’s an idea. What if we don’t worry about whatever comes next?”
37 “Principles aren’t principles when you pick and choose when you’re gonna follow them.”
38 “If this isn’t a test, then it’s something way worse: A choice! That we have to make!”
39 “I am absolutely paralyzed by decision-making.”
40 “I’m going to ... start crying.”
41 “I am pretty good at turning every place I go into my personal hell.”
42 “You know the sound that a fork makes in the garbage disposal? That’s the sound that my brain makes all the time.”
43 “Well, I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities: yes and no.”
44 “There's an old Chinese proverb... ‘Lies are like tigers. They are bad.’””That's it?” “I guess it's more poetic in Mandarin.”
45 “I argue that we choose to be good because of our bonds with other people and our innate desire to treat them with dignity. Simply put, we are not in this alone."
46 “I am breaking up with you.” “Why?” “I can't ... It's complicated, but it's happening. Ya dumped!”
47 “I do have a stomachache. Why do I always have a stomachache?”
48 “You put the Peeps in the chili pot and eat them both up! You put the Peeps in the chili pot and add the M&Ms. You put the Peeps in the chili pot and it makes it taste bad.”
49 “Are you alright? You didn't sleep at all last night.” “I got a solid eight minutes. Not consecutively, but still. It's fine. You're not even that blurry.”
50 “We can be colleagues. Associates is pushing it. And by even having this conversation, you're becoming my confidante. I can't have that.”
51 “I am absolutely paralyzed by decision making and it is destroying my life.” “Yeah, I sort of got that when you couldn't choose a chair to sit on.” “Well, I didn't want to offend you in case you had a favorite.”
52 “This whole romantic situation is such a mess. I am vexed, NAME. Vexed.”
53 “I need to step outside ... for some air ... and I will not be back for many days.”
54 “I'm sorry, everyone, I just have some worries as well as some concerns that could potentially turn into outright fears. Ah, there they go, they're fears now.”
55 “When I'm really upset, concentrating on a table of contents helps me calm down. It's like a menu, but the food is words.”
56 “I have never been that certain about anything. I once even tried to rent socks. How did I say that that easily?”
57 “You broke the world. It's not a compliment!”
58 “This is fun. It's a fun party. There's no question about it, this is a fun ... situation. Hey! You guys are here! The fun continues, nay, increases!”
Michael
59 “If soulmates do exist, they’re not found. They’re made.”
60 “I’ll say this to you, my friend, with all the love in my heart and all the wisdom of the universe. Take it sleazy.”
61 “We have no plan. No one’s coming to save us. So ... I’m going to do it.”
62 “It’s a rare occurrence, like a double rainbow. Or like someone on the internet saying, You know what? You’ve convinced me I was wrong.”
63 “Lies are always more convincing when they’re closer to the truth.”
64 “Kissing is gross. You just mash your food holes together. It’s not for that.”
65 “Birth is a curse and existence is a prison.”
66 “Serious question: should we kill them?”
67 “Lonely Gal Margarita Mix for One.”
68 (Holding a plush Minion) “I won this ugly yellow toddler, which is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
69 “Hello, everyone. Good to see you all here, mingling around with your various secrets. Who really knows which of you are who you say you are? No way to know unless I pull your skeletons out, right?"
70 “In the words of one of my actual friends: 'Ya basic'. It's a human insult. It's devastating. You're devastated right now."
71 “Where's the H? This keyboard doesn't have an H.”
72 “Dick Tracy called back on his watch phone and said you better "watch" out!”
73 “I got to ride a bike. I put a coin in a thing and got a gumball. And then someone came up to me and said, ‘hot enough for ya?’, and you know what I said? I said, ‘tell me about it!’” “Well I am glad that you got to chew a gumball.” “Oh, damn. I didn't even think to chew it. Missed opportunity, shoot.”
74 “I saw this place that was at once a Pizza Hut and a Taco Bell! I mean, oh! The mind reels! A Pizza Hut and a Taco Bell!”
75 “And what's the significance of the keychain?” “Nothing, I just like frogs. I'm a frog guy.”
76 “I won't let you down.” “I think you will. I think this entire project of yours is stupid and doomed to fail.”
77 “You know the way you feel when you see a chimpanzee and a baby tiger who have become friends? That's how you're going to feel every day.”
78 “You humans have so many emotions. You only need two: anger and confusion!”
79 “It makes sense, right? They're good so they're stupid and trusting.”
Jason Mendoza
80 “I have no idea what’s going on right now but everyone else is talking and I think I should too!”
81 “I can’t believe NAME betrayed us again, why is it always the ones you most expect?”
82 “I wasn’t a failed DJ. I was pre-successful.”
83 “Claustrophobic? Who would ever be afraid of Santa Clause?”
84 “If you’re a devil, how come you’re not wearing Prada?”
85 “I’m too young to die and too old to eat off the kids’ menu. What a stupid age I am.”
86 “Well, my year started about a year ago …”
87 “Dude! We can get mythical animals? Maybe I’ll get a penguin.” “Penguins are real.” “That’s the spirit, NAME. They’re real to me too.”
88 “When I say I'm meditating, I'm just trying to figure out what the fork is happening."
89 “You know, it doesn't matter if you know things. All that matters is what's in your heart."
90 “I'm ranking my favourite Fast and the Furious movies. You said you wanted to know who I am, and this is the best way to get to know me."
91 “He’s/She's my everything. He/She makes the bass drop in my heart.”
92 “Long story short, it was all a dream.”
Janet
93 “I think I might hate things now, too. So far, it’s genocide and leggings as pants.”
94 “NAME told me that instead of being sad, I should ‘go get it, girl.’ So I’m going to go get it, girl.” “Get what?” “Unclear. I’ll get everything, just to be safe.”
95 “In case you were wondering, I am, by definition, the best version of myself."
96 “Ooh, I've never had to walk before, this is fun! [Walks a few steps] Now I'm bored. Walking is dumb.”
97 “Oh, really? Is it an error to act unpredictably and behave in ways that run counter to how you were programmed to behave?”
Minor Miscellaneous Characters
98 “There is some good news. There’s some cake left!” – Neil from Accounting
99 “Well, I'm sure you're busy, you probably wouldn't want to talk to me. I get it, I wouldn't either. I'm as dull as a rock. Ugh, even that analogy was boring. I'm sorry, I'm so dull, and I'm ugly. I'm like a rock. Ugh, stupid Larry! Stop talking about rocks!” — Larry Hemsworth
100 “Oh, and you should smile more. You'll get bigger tips.” — Trevor
101 “Later days, dingus.” — Trevor
102 “Hold that thought. Is it OK if I go work out? I love working out. I gotta stay jacked. It's who I am.” — Chris Baker
103 “This is exhausting. I just want to go back to my container of goo and go to sleep.” — Shawn
104 “So, what's up, what's your deal? Are you single? What's going on?” — Trevor
105 “What up, ding dongs?” — Bad Janet
106 “Hello, imbeciles.” — Shawn
107 “So, we'll just roll on out, and you can get back to putting rainbows up your butt or whatever you do here.” — Trevor
#the good place quotes#the good place prompts#eleanor shellstrop#chidi anagonye#tahani al jamil#jason mendoza#writing prompts#drabble prompts#quaratine sucks and making these keeps my mind busy#i live in covid 19 hell#dialogue prompts
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A Very Feudal Christmas
OMG OMG OMG I MADE IT!
Ok, dear anon, I am so sorry for the delay in your gift. I’ll admit I had a bit of trouble with the prompt you gave me. But I do hope you enjoy this secret Santa gift of mine!
Category: Romance, fluff, Christmas theme
Pairing: InuKag
Words: 3,346
Rating: General or Teen
Also read on AO3 or FF.net
Tagging: @inusecretsanta @keichanz @noviceotakus-blog @hinezumi @morikothehalfangel @cstorm86 @digital-art-monster @cammysansstuff @redflamesofpassion @heyy-ahriii
The snow touched one of InuYasha's triangular shaped dog ears and he flicked it in response. Yellow eyes looked up at the dark sky and the falling snow. He smiled as he thought about whatever this “Christmas” surprise was Kagome had in store for all of them. She had taken it upon herself to force them all to take a few days off from shard hunting to celebrate this holiday from her time.
InuYasha still didn't understand the strange custom. Kagome had forced him to cut down a tree with Tetsusaiga and she had taken it inside Kaede's little hut. There, she had fashioned little baubles and decorations from plants, berries, fabric and other found items available to her. On the very top she placed a five point star she had managed to make from twigs and twine. Once the star was placed, she stood back and admired her work.
“Isn't it beautiful, InuYasha?” she asked him.
“Keh. I don't get it, Kagome. What's the point of all this damn stuff?”
Sighing, Kagome shook her head and tried to explain it again. “It's an old custom from the west. It brightens up the house during the winter and it provides a place to put all the presents under.”
Shippo leapt up onto Kagome's shoulder and looked at her excitedly. “Presents?”
Kagome giggled and ruffled the kit's hair. “Yes, Shippo, presents. We all get eachother a present, or sometimes we just choose one person to give something to randomly so evertyone still gets a gift but no one has to spend too much money to buy everyone gifts. That's called a secret Santa.”
“Santa?” Shippo looked puzzled at the word as he spoke it.
“Santa is a magical man who's supposed to live up at the north pole with all of his helpers who make all of his toys for all of the children in the world. Then, on Christmas Eve, he loads up his sleigh with all the toys, hooks up his eight flying reindeer and delivers them to all the children.”
“In one day?” Shippo asked, wonderously.
“Yep. He's magic, remember?”
“Wooooow...” he said as he looked on, a sparkle in his big eyes.
“Keh. Sounds like a load of crap to me,” InuYasha grumbled as he slumped down on the floor.
“Kagome turned to him and glared. “You live in a world with demons and magical swords. You can't believe a man can use some kind of magic to do something wondrous like bring joy to children?”
InuYasha flushed at her scolding. “I... I guess...” he mumbled.
Miroku stepped forward and pulled Kagome's attention from the grumpy hanyou. “Tell us more about this “secret Santa” custom, Kagome.”
Smiling, Kagome clapped her hands together and happily replied, “Well, we all write our names and a few ideas for things we would want or need on a piece of paper and then fold them so we don't know who's is who's. Then we place them all in a container and swish them around to mix them up and we all draw a name one at a time. We don't tell who we got and then on Christmas morning we reveal who our secret giftee is.”
“Ohhhhhh Kagome can we do it? Please, Kagome, pleeeeeeeease?” Shippo begged, jumping up and down excitedly. Kagome laughed boisterously and nodded her head at the happy fox child. She bent over her giant yellow backpack and pulled out a notebook and pencils. Carefully, she ripped six pieces of equally sized paper and handed one each to Kaede, Sango, Miroku, Shippo and InuYasha, keeping one for herself.
Over the next several minutes the sounds of scratching, erasing, and heavy sighs were heard throughout the tiny hut as each of them thought about what to put on their slip of paper. Finally, they each had something written and folded their papers. Kagome grabbed a small bowl and had each of them place their paper in it. She used her hand to swirl them around for a few seconds before she leaned down in front of Shippo and said, “You pick first, Shippo.”
Positively beaming, Shippo reached his tiny hand in the bowl and drew a name. He opened his paper and smiled gleefully. Kagome moved on to Sango, then Miroku, Kaede, and InuYasha, until there was only one paper left that she took for herself. She opened it to discover that she had drawn InuYasha's name. He had only written one thing below his name, 'Acceptance'. Eyes brimming with tears, Kagome tucked the slip of paper into her jacket pocket and quickly wiped them away before anyone could notice.
The next few days went by with everyone talking in hushed tones and quickly clamming up when someone came into view. Shippo had basically disappeared, but they knew he'd be back by Christmas morning. InuYasha was the strangest of them all. He kept to himself even more than normal, not even speaking to Kagome. She had hoped he would ask her advice on his gift, but she knew he was probably trying to figure it out on his own. As for Kagome, she had a big plan for InuYasha. Unfortunately, it wasn't something he could unwrap in the traditional sense, but she looked forward to giving it to him anyway.
Kagome awoke Christmas morning to a very excited Shippo jumping up and down on her chest and yelling, “Kagome! Kagome, wake up! It's time for Santa!” Smiling, she rubbed her eyes and smiled at the young boy.
“Alright, Shippo, I'm up. Go tell the others I'll make some breakfast with Kaede and then we can open presents, ok?” Shippo happily bounded away to do as she had asked of him. As she sat up, Kagome stretched out her arms above her head and looked around the small hut. Kaede was already up, with a fire started in her fire pit. She had put on some rice and as a special treat had gathered a few eggs from the locals to make for the group for this special day. Kagome also had a special surprise for everyone stashed away in her backpack and she couldn't wait to see all their faces when she let them try it.
Rising from her pallet on the floor, she walked over to Kaede and looked down at the small pot of rice she was stiring. “That looks so good, Kaede. I'm starving!”
“Aye, child. We best get these eggs ready before InuYasha busts down my hut and Shippo loses all his patience and tears into his own gift before it's time.” Kagome giggled as she grabbed another pan to make the eggs in.
She had just cracked the last egg into the pan when Miroku, Sango and Shippo all joined them. Kagome frowned and looked down at Shippo. “Where's InuYasha?” she asked.
“I dunno, Kagome. I looked everywhere. Even in the sacred tree. I couldn't find him anywhere.”
Kagome's face furrowed into a frown. It wasn't like him to disappear without telling them, except in the case of... But no. Surely he wouldn't do that to her on Christmas when he knew how much it meant to her? She pulled in a deep breath to keep herself calm and to stave off the tears that threatened to fall.
The group ate in mostly silence, sensing Kagome's tension. Even Shippo's cheery mood had dampened somewhat. But then, something magical happened. Shippo's ear flicked, his nose twitched and he shot up from his spot on the floor and ran off out of the hut in the direction of the forest.
Kagome quickly tried to go after him, but the young kit was too fast for her. “Shippo!” she called, but he was already out of sight beyond the treeline. Sighing, she returned to her own spot on the floor and shoved the food in her mouth with obvious annoyance. It was just as she had finished her last bite of egg that Shippo came bounding back in the hut, followed by InuYasha.
Kagome breathed a huge sigh of relief, along with the rest of the group. But she glared up at him anyway. “Where were you, InuYasha?”
Face flushed, he responded, “I was... gettin' my gift. Sorry I'm late...” he said, sheepishly. Kagome smiled up at him and grabbed the bowl of food she had saved for him and handed it to him as he sat down next to her on the floor. He began shoveling in his mouth in pure InuYasha fashion and she couldn't help but giggle. He looked over at her, his cheeks puffed up from all the food and said, “Wha?” through his mouthful.
She simply shook her head and said, “Nothing, InuYasha. I'm just glad you're here is all.” She then stood and walked over to her backpack and rummaged through it until she found her special surprise for everyone. Everyone looked at her curiously as she pulled out little paper packets and a few long thin bars with the word 'Hershey's' in big letters on the wrapping. “Shippo, could you go get a small bucket of milk from Ichiro, please? He knows you're coming.”
“Sure, Kagome,” he said as he happily ran off to complete his task. He returned moments later with his prize and Kagome smiled as she took it from him and poured it into the kettle she had placed over the fire. Miroku and Sango watched her with much curiosity as she stirred the fresh milk. Once it was warmed, she opened up the paper packets and poured the contents of them into the milk, turning it a medium shade of brown. Shippo's eyes widened. “What kind of magic are you using, Kagome?” he asked her.
Kagome chuckled and shook her head at the kitsune. “Not magic, Shippo. Just something from my time. You'll see when it's all done. You'll like it, I promise!”
She continued stirring the now brown milk until it was fairly well steaming. It was then that she opened up the bars and broke the contents of them up into the milk, stirring them in as well. As she stirred, the milk turned an even darker shade of brown, and Kagome's eyes gleamed. Finally, she poured the concoction into six mugs and went back to her bag in search of one more thing. She pulled out a small bag of small, white fluffy looking things and placed several on each drink before handing a cup to each of them in turn. They each looked at the drink and sniffed it carefully. InuYasha studied it most of all, staring at it with wide eyes and flicking ears.
“It's called hot chocolate with marshmallows. It's something we drink in cold weather in my time. It's really good, I promise. Try it,” Kagome prompted.
Slowly, each of them took a small sip. Shippo's eyes grew twice their normal size and he exclaimed, “Kagome, this is amazing!”
Miroku nodded in agreement, “Indeed, this is very good, Kagome.”
Sango simply stated, “This is common in your time? It seems so special...” Kaede agreed.
“It's easier to make in my time. We don't have to milk cows to get milk, we just buy it at the store. And we have this thing called a microwave that heats food up for us much faster than traditional cooking,” she stated.
“Woooooooow, Kagome. Your time must be so fun!” Shippo exclaimed.
Laughing, Kagome said, “Sometimes, yea. But honestly I'd rather be here, with you guys.” She looked around them all to the tree in the corner of the room. “Now, are we all ready to open our gifts?”
Shippo shot up and said, “Me first, me first!” As he ran over and grabbed his package and handed it to Kaede. “Merry Christmas, Lady Kaede.”
Smiling, Kaede untied the twine holding the box together and opened the gift she had been given. Inside the box was a new handmade basket decorated with flowers and ribbon. It had 3 separate compartments. “Oh Shippo, this is so beautiful,” Kaede exclaimed.
Beaming, Shippo said proudly, “I made it! It's for all your herb collecting. So you don't have to mix everything up or carry different baskets.”
“Thank you, child. I will cherish it,” Kaede said as she patted the boy's head. “Now, I believe it's my turn, then?” She said as she stood and made her way over to the tree and retrieved her own gift, handing the package to Shippo with a large smile on her face. “Merry Christmas, dear.” Shippo could hardly contain his excitement as he tore open the box. He peered inside and with careful hands pulled the item out and held it up for everyone to see. Kaede spoke softly, “It's a charmed spinning top. Once you use it, it won't stop spinning until you speak the magic word.”
“Oh Lady Kaede, thank you so much! This is the best thing ever!” Shippo said as he ran and gave her a huge bear hug.
Chuckling, Kaede patted his back and said, “Of course, child. Yer very welcome.”
Miroku stood and silently walked over to the tree and picked up a small box. He turned, sighed deeply, and handed it to Sango. “Merry Christmas, Sango,” he stated, obviously nervous.
Sango looked into the violet eyes of the monk and with shaking hands opened the gift he had presented her. The box contained a piece of forearm armor, matching her current armor, with one small difference. This piece contained a hidden blade with the words 'My Dearest' inscribed on the blade. “Now be careful, Sango. The blade is dipped in a permanent poison that I'm told works on humans and most lower level demons alike. Supposedly it won't ever need replenished,” Miroku said as he stared at the young taijiya.
“Oh, Miroku, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever received. Thank you so much,” she said as her face turned a hefty shade of pure pink. She carefully set her gift down next to her hiraikotsu and walked over to the tree to retrieve her own gift. She stood in front of Miroku and handed him her present, hands trembling.
Miroku looked at her with wide eyes and wordlessly opened the gift. He looked inside the box with wonder as he pulled out a bundle of fabric and let it fall open. It was a small, formal kimono. One obviously meant for a child. Shyly, Sango spoke, “It's for your first child. For, you know, after we defeat Naraku...” Her words trailed off as he looked at her with his eyes positively sparkling.
“Sango, this is the most precious thing you could've given me. Thank you so much.” With those words he wrapped her up in his arms and gave her a tight embrace, making the slayer blush even deeper. She returned his affections, however.
With that, the whole group turned to Kagome. It was time for her gift to InuYasha. Smiling, she stood and walked over to him, taking his hand and leading him into the center of the group. They circled the confused hanyou and each of them held out their hand and touched his arm or shoulder. Kagome stood in front of him and spoke softly, “InuYasha, here, in this family, you are always accepted.” She turned to Shippo.
“You're like a the most annoying big brother in the world, but of course I accept you. I don't know what I'd do without you and Kagome around.” Shippo turned and looked at Miroku.
“InuYasha, you're brash and harsh with your words, but you have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known, save Kagome. You fight for what's right and protect the innocent. Anyone would be proud to call you Ani*. As proud as I am.” He turned to a smiling Sango.
“You're brave, cunning, quick witted and god awful stubborn. Your heart is always in the right place, even if your words don't express it well. I'm proud to fight beside you and call you Kazoku*.” She turned to Kaede.
“InuYasha, I thought for a very long time that ye were the reason my older sister was slain. Since learning the truth and gettin' ta know ya, I've learned that yer much more than meets the eye. Yer smart, fiercely protective, and ye have one of the biggest hearts of any man this old woman has ever known. Ye are like the Mago* I never had.”
Finally, it was Kagome's turn to speak. “InuYasha, we all love you. Here in this family you will always have a place. You will always be accepted, no matter what happens. Always know that, ok?”
InuYasha stood speechless and looked at each one of them in turn. No one had ever displayed this much affection for him in his entire life. He was overwhelmed and didn't know what to do with himself. “K-Kagome...” he said, softly.
She smiled at him and took his hand. “I know,” she said as she led him outside and away from the group to the one place she wanted to take him, the sacred tree. There, he stood trembling in front of her. She gently touched his cheek and smiled at him. “Do you understand now?” She asked him. He simply nodded.
After a few moments to compose himself, InuYasha reached into his haori and pulled out a very small, modern looking, beautiful, glittery forest green box and handed it to her. “It's not much... your mom helped me with it...”
Kagome looked up at him in shock. “That's where you've been? At my house?” He nodded once. “Oh, InuYasha...” she said, as she held the box tenderly. She pulled off the lid to the box and peered inside. It held a silver heart shaped locket on a long silver chain to match. She pulled the necklace from the box and opened it up. On one side was a tiny picture of InuYasha, looking as grumpy as ever and on the other was an engraving. It read, 'You have my heart in full'. Kagome's eyes brimmed with tears as she read the inscription. “InuYasha...”
“Ah, damnit wench, ya weren't s'posed to cry!” He said as he took her shoudlers in his clawed hands.
She looked up into his amber eyes and gave him the brightest smile he'd ever seen from her. “No, InuYasha, I'm crying because I'm so happy.”
“Oh...” he said as he looked down, embarrassed.
“You know, there is another Christmas tradition I wanted to show you...” Kagome said, quietly.
InuYasha looked back into her chocolate brown eyes. “Oh yea?”
“Look up, InuYasha.” His head swiveled back and looked above his head. There, hanging on a red ribbon from one of the lowest branches on the tree, was a plant he didn't recognize. It was green with tiny white and red berries.
“It's called mistletoe. When two people are under it at the same time they're supposed to kiss.” Kagome said, voice shaky, but sounding confident.
InuYasha looked back down into her entrancing eyes. He hesitated only for a moment before taking her face into both of his clawed hands and bent down to capture her soft, pink lips with his own. She gasped at the intensity of the kiss. Every word unspoken, every feeling not known, poured into her very soul. In that moment, she was sure he loved her. She was sure she was his first choice. She was sure she wanted to be with him, forever. Her nerves tingled as the kiss came to an end and she shook in his arms as he barely pulled away.
“Merry Christmas, Kagome.”
She smiled against his lips. “Merry Christmas, InuYasha.”
*Ani- informal brother in Japanese
*Kazoku- family in Japanese
*Mago- grandchild in Japanese
**I do apologize if I have used these words incorrectly. I did try to look up the proper meanings, but the internet only tells so much!**
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Paper Hearts
The Starker-Office AU the world needs.
Tony Stark is a paper salesman who hates his job but is secretly in love with the beautiful receptionist. A glimpse into their unorthodox courtship and happily ever after.
Tony Stark hated his job.
Selling paper was one of the most boring professions he could think of, and it had a very obvious expiration date that drew ever closer the more digitized the world became. At best, he thought, he had another few years before he had to hit the unemployment line and look for another job he despised. Nothing left to do but collect his paychecks until then, really.
His boss was an idiot.
Scott Lang was no where near as funny as he thought he was. His jokes caused Tony actual, physical pain. The way the guy was a lapdog for Hope from corporate, that was even worse. Didn’t help that for some reason Scott thought he and Tony were best friends. The indignities he put up with for this job were not worth the pay check he took home. Not. At. All.
The guy across from his desk was a killjoy. You’d think Steve Rogers had some amazingly important job with how dedicated he was to it. First one to arrive. Last one to leave. He was a puny little, sanctimonious nerd that Tony loved to play practical jokes on…which was really only one of two things that made the job bearable. The second? The second was Peter.
Peter fucking Parker.
The receptionist.
Light of his life.
His reason for waking up in the morning.
The only damn reason he hadn’t left this fucking job in pursuit of something that didn’t make him contemplate using his letter opener to carve a giant hole into the middle of his chest.
Peter was young and beautiful and sweet and he sat directly in Tony’s line of view. He caught himself staring at the kid way more often than he should. He would day dream about running his fingers through those fluffy chestnut curls, tugging on the strands in the throes of passion. He pictured what Peter’s lips would look like wrapped around more than just the straw of his water bottle. He committed every centimeter of Peter’s face to his memory, knew every piece of clothing in the kid’s wardrobe…enough that he recognized when Peter had treated himself to a new sweater or pair of skinny jeans. Tony stared because it was all he was allowed to do, and it was the only thing that got him through the day. Peter caught him, too, but either the kid didn’t realize that Tony was head over heels in love with him…or he didn’t care.
Tony really hoped it was the former, but it didn’t matter really because Peter had a fiance, Quentin Beck, some handsome asshole from the warehouse who had been promising Peter a ‘happily ever after’ that the kid had yet to realize was really a ‘never gonna happen’. Quentin wasn’t ready to grow up, settle down, be a fucking man, and Tony had caught him flirting with people who weren’t Peter enough times to know he was a piece of shit. Quentin Beck didn’t know what he had, but Tony did. He hated that fucking guy, and the feeling was clearly mutual.
Someday. Someday, Tony was going to sweep Peter off his feet, steal him away from the asshat and show the kid what a happily ever after should look like.
Someday.
If he ever worked up the nerve.
Until then…
***
Tony leaned against the reception desk, drumming his fingers on the Formica counter and waiting for Peter to finish his call. Peter glanced up at him through a curtain of eyelashes, biting back a grin and holding a finger to his lips as he quickly scrawled a message on a notepad for Scott.
“Mhm, yeah, no, I’ll totally have him call you back…Yeah…Soon, for sure…Uh huh…Yep, I have here that it’s important so he’ll definitely get back to you…Yep…Cool, okay. Bye.” He placed the phone back in it’s cradle carefully and turned his attention to Tony, resting his head in one hand and blushing intensely under the other man’s gaze. “That was corporate. You could have gotten me into trouble.”
“I’d never get you into trouble, Pete. I’d sooner die.”
“This job’s not worth dying over, Mr. Stark.”
“You might be…”
Peter choked out an embarrassed giggle. “Stop it! You’re the worst. Did you just come over here to tease me or did you need help with the copier again? For someone with half a degree in computers, you really suck with copiers, you know that?”
Tony shrugged, so what if that was one of his many excuses to spend a little time with Peter during the day. He could hardly be faulted for that. “Got you a present. Wanted to make sure you got to enjoy it properly.”
“Oh yeah, what did you get me?” Peter looked more than a little skeptical, and in all honesty, he probably had a right to be.
“Wait until Rogers gets back from his coffee break and then enjoy the show, Kid.”
“Oh my god, what did you do?”
Tony chuckled, stealing a piece of candy from the bowl Peter filled every week. “I may have hacked his computer last night…sent him a very official looking email from the US Army inquiring about a very special kind of paper needed for a top secret mission and included a referral from one of his best clients.”
“You didn’t!”
“He’s always acting like his job is a matter of life and death, let’s give the geek a thrill, huh?”
“Mr. Stark, that’s so mean…”
“I could abort the mission if you really think…”
“I mean it would be a shame to waste all that hard work…”
***
“No.”
“Seriously, Steve, I haven’t even gotten to ask…”
“I know, but whatever it is you want, Tony, it can’t be good. So, no. My answer is no.”
Tony frowned, hanging his head in frustration for several seconds. “I know you got Peter in the office Secret Santa thing…”
“How do you know that? Did you just conveniently skip over the ‘secret’ part?”
Tony was trying really hard to be nice here. Steve wasn’t making it easy. “I asked everyone else. Paid them. Did them favors. Tracked down the lucky bastard who was gifting Peter…and Fate hates me, so here we are. Look, Rogers, I know we’re not friends…”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Mine. Mine. It’s clearly mine. I accept the blame. I do. It’s just…I have something planned for Pete and I need to be his Secret Santa. I will do literally anything. Name your price.”
“I can’t be bought, Tony. Peter has a fiance, or did you forget that? Whatever you want from him, it can’t be good.”
Tony groaned, hitting his forehead against the top of his desk. “I know Peter has a fiance, Rogers. Believe me, no one is more aware of Quentin’s existence than I am. The guy’s a jerk…a bigger jerk than me, and that’s really saying something. You know it’s true. He’s a piece of shit and Peter deserves better. The guy is going to give him some generic piece of crap for Christmas, no thought at all. You know it. Peter’s a good kid. He deserves…he deserves a lot more than that shithole. Let me give him something nice. I’m not going to break up his relationship. I’m not going to lead him down the path of temptation. I just want to give him something nice and make him smile without him feeling like he needs to do something for me, okay? Rogers…I’m begging you.”
Steve stared at him for several long minutes before he sighed and nodded. “Fine. Yeah. Okay.”
“Bless you, Steve Rogers. Consider this our armistice. War over.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.”
***
Tony had never wanted to hug anyone as badly as he wanted to hug Peter in that moment.
The kid looked defeated.
He was seated at a little card table towards the back of the comic book shop with several stacks of his own self-published comic in little piles all around him.
No one was stopping to look at them. To talk to him. To acknowledge his existence at all.
His eyes were glassy. The kid was literally minutes away from crying and he just couldn’t let that happen.
“Just your luck that you’d have your debut on a rainy day, Parker.”
Peter jumped, scrubbing a hand over his cheeks and putting on a brave face as he looked up at Tony with a paradoxical mixture of relief and fear. “Tony! You…you came.”
“Course I came. Wouldn’t miss this for the world. But seriously, you know rainy days are terrible for business, right? It’s a proven fact. Why…I’ve never seen so few people in here before. Gotta be the weather.”
“Yeah…no, yeah, I’m sure you’re right.” Peter looked like he didn’t quite believe Tony, but he was also apparently eager for an excuse to explain his lackluster turn out. Had anyone else from the office even come? Ass holes. All of them. And where the fuck was Quentin?
“So, let’s see…” Tony reached out for one of the books, carefully flipping through the pages and perusing the content with a little humming noise. “Hey, now, do you take inspiration from people you know?”
Peter was blushing. “Maybe…”
“No maybe about it, Peter, you cannot tell me this handsome bastard isn’t based off me.” He flipped the book around, tapping at an image of a roguishly handsome superhero in crimson and gold armor. “You know I’m a raging narcissist, right? I was going to buy a book anyway, but now I have to buy the whole series cause I’m one of the stars. You in here, too?”
Peter nodded slowly, his blush darkening. “Yeah…but I won’t tell you who. You’ll have to figure that out…”
“I do love a challenge.” Tony closed the book and reached out to add one from every pile to the one in his hands. “So, how much?”
“Um…they’re ten a piece but…”
“But obviously that’s much too low so I’ll give you a hundred for the set of five.”
“Tony, no…”
“Fine. A hundred and fifty it is. You’re a tough negotiator, Pete.”
“Tony!” The smile on Peter’s face was worth every fucking penny. And who needed to eat, anyway?
***
“Mr. Stark! You promised that the goatee was not because of my comics.”
Peter was standing at his desk with both hands over his mouth. His face was as brilliantly red as the home made Halloween costume Tony had donned for work that day…the costume he had based entirely off of Peter’s comic and the character he just knew was based on him. Had to be. And dammit, if he was right…if he was right, than Peter had even made himself Tony’s fucking love interest…and wasn’t that just the most interesting thing he’d ever read in his whole damn life?
“So, I lied. It’s not my fault. You’re such a damn good artist that I took one look at my comic book self with that awesome facial hair and said, ‘Fuck, Tony, why did you never realize that you’d be even more devastatingly attractive if you just had an impeccably groomed goatee?’ The world has you to thank for it, Pete, and I’m definitely keeping it because it’s been a hit.”
Peter’s hands dropped from his face to his sides. He was chewing on his bottom lip, looking pensive. “Who…I didn’t know you were dating anybody Mr. Stark. I’m glad…they like it. I guess…”
Tony didn’t bother to correct him. Not yet. A little jealousy might do the kid some good, let him know how much Tony wanted to choke the fucking life out of Quentin every time that piece of shit showed his face.
***
Peter was wearing a new soft blue sweater over a button down shirt and Tony was trying very hard not to swoon over how fucking adorable he looked. He was playing with his gum, winding it around his finger before popping it into his mouth to begin again. He had his phone concealed in his lap so no one could see him playing on social media while he was supposed to be working. That was probably why he didn’t hear Tony approach until the man was standing directly in front of him, leaning against the reception desk and looking at Peter with what Tony recognized was something very close to the heart-eye emoji. God, this kid.
He really couldn’t take it anymore.
He had to make a move.
Be brave.
Be bold.
Be the fucking hero in that kid’s comic.
“What are you doing tonight, Pete?”
Peter jumped a little, looking up at Tony with a little flush of surprise. “Tonight? I don’t know. Quentin’s got poker at Drax’s, so probably just going to lay in bed and catch up on Netflix. Why?”
Tony smirked, dropping something on the desk in front of him.
“Oh my god, how did you get this? It’s not even supposed to be released for another two weeks…” Peter’s excitement was quelled by the sudden realization, “Is this a bootleg?”
Tony nodded. He was never going to admit to how much he’d spent for a bootleg copy of something he cared absolutely nothing about because in the end…it was going to be completely worth it. “Come over to my place tonight. We can break the law together.”
“You think if the FBI raids your place while we’re in the middle of it that we could at least be cellmates, Mr. Stark?”
“Don’t worry, Pete, I’ll protect you in the prison yard. No one would dare put a hand on you.”
“I’ve always thought you’d make a great prison husband.” The witty banter ground to a halt with Peter’s last quip, his light brown eyes flaring wide. His mouth had runaway without his better judgment, but Tony wasn’t quite ready to let it go yet.
“Oh, I’d make a great husband, prison or not.” Tony held Peter’s gaze for a second longer than was probably comfortable for both of them, the kid’s face was red as a cherry tomato when they were interrupted by the sound of an exasperated sigh from behind them.
“Tony…could you just grow up already? Some of us are actually trying to work…”
Peter giggled into his hand, leaning to the side to look around Tony at Steve Rogers’ desk. “I thought you and Mr. Rogers had finally ended the Civil War, what did you do this time?” He was careful to keep his tone soft enough that it didn’t carry.
“Hm?” Tony was still distracted by thoughts of Peter as his prison wife, but managed to pull himself out of it to look back over his shoulder and shrug. “I super glued everything to his desk last night.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
Peter was under his desk now, hugging his sides and laughing himself breathless.
***
It was far from the first time he and Peter had spent time together outside of work. They were friendly, in fact. Quentin didn’t share any of Peter’s interests, and that left plenty of things for Tony to exploit. Movies Quentin wouldn’t be caught dead seeing. Video game releases. Comic conventions. Hell, Tony had even gone to a few games of D&D with Peter because he would take literally any excuse to spend time with that kid.
Now, they were cuddled up on Tony’s couch in his apartment with enough snack food to weather the apocalypse and a bootleg that Peter was dying to see. Though, for something Peter was dying to see, he didn’t seem as enthusiastic about watching it as he had earlier that day.
“Pete? You okay? Something happen after work?” He’d been fine when they’d said their goodbyes that day.
Peter ran a hand through his curls and let out a long, shaky breath. “I think Quentin might be cheating on me. I don’t have proof but…Drax didn’t know anything about a poker game tonight and it’s just, it’s little things, you know? I found this little church I really liked for the wedding and I mentioned it to him, that we could maybe set a date…but he brushed me off. MJ…you know from customer service? She says I’m an idiot, that he’s never going to marry me and now I’m afraid she’s right…do think she’s right, Tony?”
Tony reached out, drawing the younger man close and inhaling the scent of his shampoo as he tucked Peter against his chest. “You’re not an idiot, Peter. You’re way better than that piece of shit in the warehouse deserves. You’re beautiful and smart and funny and talented, and if you were mine…we’d have fucking eloped the second you said you’d marry me.”
Peter pulled back with a watery smile, “Yeah?”
“Mhm. They increased the limit on my credit card last month. Enough for two tickets to Vegas, a week long stay in a crappy casino and a quickie wedding chapel. I’d lock that shit down before you had a second to realize that you could do better than me, too.”
“Better than you?” Peter sounded as if that idea was more insane than eloping to Vegas minutes after a marriage proposal. “Tony, there isn’t anyone better than you.”
“If you believed that, you wouldn’t be with that piece of shit, Quentin Beck.”
Now, Peter just looked confused. “In what universe did I ever have a choice between you and Quentin?”
“This one.”
Peter’s head slowly canted to one side, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing. “No…”
“Oh yes, Pete.” Never in his wildest dreams had ever thought that Peter thought Tony was out of his league. Was the kid blind? Did he not own a mirror? Did he not know how brilliant and funny and talented… “Oh yes..” Those last two words were repeated a hair’s breadth from Peter’s lips as Tony leaned forward to bridge the distance between them.
It was everything Tony had ever thought it would be and so much more. Peter’s lips were soft, his whimpers were music to Tony’s ears. Tony let himself bury his fingers in those chestnut curls and inhale the scent of him, revel in the taste of him, live in that moment as if it was the only one he was ever going to get.
The kiss went on until neither one of them could breath, until they were forced to pull back with heaving chests and swollen lips. Peter stared at Tony for several seconds before he threw off the blanket and walked out of the room.
What.
What the fuck.
Tony was dumbfounded. Was Peter not into it? Had he just been shot down? Was Peter not even going to talk to him…
No.
No.
Peter was back.
With his laptop?
Tony frowned, watching as Peter dropped the computer in his lap followed by something small and golden. Glancing up, Tony caught sight of Peter’s now empty ring finger.
“Put your money where your mouth is, Stark.”
Tony stared. “What…”
“Two tickets. Vegas. ASAP.”
“Wait…” He couldn’t be serious.
“No, you said you wouldn’t make me wait. I already Snapped Quentin. We’re broken up. I’m single…but I don’t want to be. So buy me those tickets to Vegas and a ring…when we get there.”
Tony slowly opened the laptop, stealing glances at Peter ever few seconds as he booted it and pulled up a travel site. “You’re not…this isn’t a joke, right?”
“Not a joke. You’re not the only one who’s been pining, Tony Stark. Why do you think Quentin hated you so much? He knew I was super into you…hell, Tony, I made you my lover in my comics…You’ve been my unattainable crush since I started my job. You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. Most supportive. We have fun together. We have a lot in common. We just…”
“Yeah.” Tony was smiling now, not even second guessing himself as he typed in his credit card numbers. “I don’t know if we can get a week off work…”
“Four day weekend is good enough for now. I’ll call Mr. Lang and let him know we won’t be in. I’ll have to tell him why…”
“God help us.”
***
Four days later when Tony and Peter returned to work in the same car, they arrived to find an impromptu wedding shower waiting for them. Quentin had quit. Left all of Peter’s stuff in the warehouse in a pile in the middle of one of the docking bays. But whatever, the less they had to see of that prick the better. Scott seemed happier about their elopement than they were, and he’d gone to great lengths to print up t-shirts proclaiming that everyone in the office ‘shipped Starker’. Even Rogers was wearing one.
Tony pretended to hate it.
Really he fucking loved it.
Maybe his job wasn’t the absolute worst after all…
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6/9: The Con(vention) Run-in
Rating: PG (Fake fight for photo op)
Characters: Convention Attendee!Bang Chan x Reader (any gender), featuring Convention Attendee!Felix and mention of other characters
Notes: The final day of my birthday surprise series. Normally I try to attend Comic Con or its sister convention WonderCon, but both were postponed due to current events. This is a non-idol AU. The Aussie line are imagined as cousins in this story. All content is fictional. Please do not repost anywhere!
————–
llamajinnie
I can’t believe it...
Sent 8:10 AM
bc1997
It won’t be that bad! Besides the tickets were free!
Sent 8:12 AM
Chan looked up from his phone when he felt a tap on his shoulder. His cousin was holding out his badge he needed to wear to enter the convention and he thanked him. He put his phone away in a pocket and slipped the lanyard on over his head.
Instead of working on music like he usually did in his spare time, Chan was accompanying his cousin Felix to a comic convention. The latter won tickets through a radio contest and his parents couldn’t attend. Because his mom didn’t want him going alone, she asked Chan if he could spare a weekend and accompany Felix to the convention.
Most his friends were shocked he would tag along with the younger boy, especially since Felix was the one who was more into the nerd scene, namely anime and manga. Chan’s friend Hyunjin was convinced that the former’s aunt likely bribed him with money if he drove and chaperoned Felix for a weekend at the convention, but Chan insisted he really wanted to go. Sure he wasn’t a huge comic book or pop culture nerd like his cousin, but it gave him an excuse to wear that Captain America costume he spent too much money on from Halloween.
“Thanks again,” Felix said as he flipped his badge to the front, showing his name. “Mum said lunch and dinner is on her.”
“No, it’s fine,” Chan insisted.
Felix shook his head and replied that it was non-negotiable. The pair made their way to a line to enter the convention center and waited for security to wave them inside. They flashed their badges at the security personnel and stepped inside.
Felix adjusted his beret, which was starting to slide off his head, due to the long rabbit ears he put on top.
“So uh, who are you again?” Chan asked as he studied his cousin’s costume.
“Momiji from Fruits Basket,” Felix explained. “He’s the rabbit in the Chinese zodiac. Thought it made sense, since everyone thinks I’m still a kid with the baby face.”
“Plus the hair,” Chan added. “Okay, never saw the anime, but cool!”
Felix nodded as he fixed his backpack straps and dashed ahead to check out the tables in the art section of the convention. Chan tried to catch up and had to apologize as he weaved around other participants. He ducked as a Harley Quinn from the recent live-action film barely missed him with her toy bat, as she started to put it up for a photo op.
“Hang on Cap, can I get a picture?” a male voice asked.
Chan whirled around and saw it was a father with a young son, dressed as Thor. He smiled at the son and nodded as he removed his shield backpack off his shoulders to hold for the photo. The son hesitated, and shyly looked up at Chan.
“Come on Thor, we need you in the picture too,” Chan said as he motioned for the young boy to stand next to him.
The young boy skipped over to him and Chan knelt down on one knee. He held out his shield backpack, while the boy clutched his toy version of Mjölnir. The father snapped the picture with his digital camera and quickly checked the photo, before flashing a thumbs-up.
“Thank you,” Chan said as he stood up. He waved goodbye to the young boy and secured the backpack on his shoulders. He craned his neck, looking for Felix, who was several feet away, talking to one artist at their booth. He quickly walked toward his cousin and tapped him on the shoulder.
Felix whirled around and pointed to some example works of art that the artist had on display. “Perfect timing! Actually I was thinking about doing a commission with this guy. Who should I have done?”
Chan bit his lip and tried to think of any anime characters that he might know. He maybe watched a few as a kid growing up, but his mum made him go out and play or practice swimming, which was better than sitting in front of a screen in her opinion.
“Um...Goku from Dragonball Z? Naruto?” he offered, trying not to wince. “Sorry, it’s been a really long time since I’ve watched an anime.”
Felix nodded and flipped through the dossier on the table for inspiration for a few seconds. Eventually he settled on some character from an anime he wasn’t familiar with (Tower something?) and the artist scribbled a note in his notebook.
“It’s going to take me probably until 1 PM to do that,” the artist told Felix. “Someone is ahead of you with a two character commission, so that’s gonna be worked on first. I’d say come back around 2:30 and I might have it ready by then.”
Felix thanked him and dug out his wallet to pay for the piece. He passed over some bills and the artist made change for him.
————–
“Is that Binnie you’re messaging?” Felix asked.
Chan shook his head as he looked up from his phone. “Hyunjin. He’s convinced I’m trapped and not having fun. But then again, he’s not big on crowds and comic stuff.”
“Oh...” Felix trailed off. He craned his neck and noticed there were two seats closer to the front of the room. “We should grab those before the next panel starts.” He pushed himself out of his seat and quickly walked over to the empty chairs.
Chan stood up and followed his cousin, eventually taking the aisle seat in their new row. The pair had walked the floor for a few hours and now they were sitting in a room to listen and watch a panel on some anime series that Felix watched regularly. This allowed Chan to sit and relax, as well as respond to Hyunjin about how things were going.
“I promise we can grab lunch after this,” Felix whispered as someone came on stage to introduce the panelists.
Chan flashed him a thumbs-up and pocketed his phone out of respect for the panel. He leaned back in his seat as the moderator introduced all of the voice acting talent and then they rolled a new trailer for the next season. Once the trailer ended, the moderator began asking questions to the members on the panel and the audience listened to their responses. Eventually the panel began accepting fan questions, and Felix decided to rush up to the mic to ask one.
“MOMIJI!” one of the female panelists yelled with a huge smile on her face. “Oh my gosh, you are precious!”
Felix blushed at the compliment and ducked his head, before composing him and asking his question. The deep voice shocked the panelists and Chan bit back a laugh as one of the male panelists joked that he wanted to trade voices with Felix. The comment made the room laugh and Felix laughed along with them, then stepped to the side for the next fan to ask their question.
————–
The boys exited the panel room after Felix’s panel concluded and Chan began researching local restaurants they could get lunch at. Both decided against the convention center food, as it was pricey and Felix mentioned that Minho had tried it once during a cat convention, giving it poor reviews.
“There’s a cat convention? Oh wait, that’s rhetorical,” Chan mused as he pictured their friend walking every row of the cat convention with a content smile on his face. “Do you know if they had cats for adoption? Or was it products for your cat?”
“Both apparently,” Felix replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Minho went to look at special food for one cat, cause he needed to go on a diet, and then he wanted a fancy collar for his female cat.”
“That’s not where he got the third cat right?”
His cousin gave him a blank look and scrunched his brows. “Hang on, he has three now? I thought he only had two!”
“No he’s got three now,” Chan confirmed. “His Christmas card showed him with three cats plus him wearing Santa hats.”
Felix tried to recall if he got a Christmas card from Minho, while Chan went back to looking at restaurants. He paused when he found some options and started to show them to his cousin. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned his head to see it was someone dressed as Bucky Barnes in his Winter Soldier attire.
“Hey Cap, could we get a fight picture?” you asked under your black mask.
He nodded as he slowly removed his backpack from his shoulders and held the straps so they wouldn’t show in the picture. He turned to face you and you balled up the fist with your “metal” arm.
“I’m going to punch your shield, okay?” you explained.
He nodded and positioned himself as if he was defending himself with the shield. You placed your fist on the center of the shield and adjusted your feet, so it looked more convincing.
Felix stepped between the two of you and asked if you had a camera or phone you wanted to use. You nodded and used your free hand to pull out and unlock your phone. You switched to the camera app and handed it to him, murmuring a thank you.
He took the phone and put in landscape mode, checking to make sure everything was in focus. He counted to three, before clicking the button your screen a few times, just so you had more than one. He then switched to his phone and took some pictures too. He passed your phone over and you thanked him before checking the photos over.
“Perfect, thanks,” you replied. You dug around in your tactical vest and produced a card with your name and Instagram handle on it. “If you’re on IG, feel free to tag me. I’ll be uploading pics later tonight.”
Chan accepted the card and thanked you with a smile. He put it away in his pocket and added that you did an amazing job with it.
“Thank you,” you replied. “The arm was the hardest part but it came out good. Not the most comfortable thing to wear, but it’s all good. You make a good Cap.”
Chan ducked his head and waved it away as nothing. “I bought my costume – wish I had your talent.”
“Ah who cares? It looks great and you do too,” you confirmed, flashing him a thumbs-up. Your phone buzzed in your hand and you groaned when you saw it was your alarm for your next panel you were hoping to see. “Shoot, gotta run. My panel starts in 7 minutes. Have a great con!”
Chan nodded as he waved goodbye to you, while Felix held up his phone to show off his pictures.
“They came out pretty good,” he noted. “I’m guessing they’re a professional cosplayer.”
Chan patted the pocket with the card. “I’ll have to look them up online when we’re done.”
#Stray Kids Bang Chan#Stray Kids Felix#Stray Kids AU#SKZ AU#Bang Chan#Lee Felix#Bang Chan AU#Lee Felix AU#yourkeeperoftherunners original#number 3007
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Christmas Surprises
Christmas fic set when Rory’s daughter is two post AYTIL. Rory is engaged to Jess and they are spending the day at Lorelai’s, where someone surprising fills in for Santa.
Stars Hollow is lit up for Christmas. Rory steers the car through the streets, glancing back to where her daughter is sitting on the backseat.
"Look Charlotte! Stars Hollow!"
"Stars!" her daughter exclaims, staring out of the window. Her blue eyes, decided by Lorelai as the Gilmore eyes, are wide with excitement. "Stars!"
Rory laughs, parking the car outside her mother's house and getting out. She has barely closed the car door when Lorelai comes out of the house, running down the steps and down the path, heedless of the icy snow, Paul Anka barking at her feet.
"Rory!"
"Hey Mom!" Rory shouts back. She unbuckles Charlotte, lifts her out and passes her straight to Lorelai who hugs her tightly.
"Both my girls," Lorelai says, giving Charlotte a big kiss. "Look out how big you've gotten!"
"You only saw Charlotte last week," Rory points out and Lorelai sticks out her tongue.
"She still looks bigger, don't you, honey?"
Charlotte stares at her grandmother, making Lorelai and Rory laugh.
"Okay, let's get you inside," Lorelai says, starting back up the steps with more caution. "It's freezing!"
Rory follows her mother into the house, carrying her and Charlotte's suitcases and dropping them in the hall with a thump.
"Rat bastards!"
"Language!" Lorelai admonishes, putting her hands over Charlotte's ears and Rory rolls her eyes with a grin.
"I believe you were the person who taught me that term for heavy luggage."
"Not until you were at least in Kindergarten," Lorelai coughs. "Anyway, how much stuff can a two-year-old need?"
"Too much," Rory sighs. "What with packing and listening to that kids' playlist all the way from New York, my head is spinning!"
"I'll make us some coffee," Lorelai promises. "Sit and relax, little daughter! It's Christmas!"
Rory nods, looking around the brightly decorated house and taking a contented breath. "It's good to be back."
"Good to have you back," Lorelai says, kissing her cheek. "Both of you. I don't think Charlotte is quite old enough for coffee -"
"Give it another a year!"
"But maybe some hot chocolate?"
"She'll love that, thanks Mom," Rory says. She sits down with Charlotte on the couch, looking at the familiar pictures, when her gaze rests and her eyes freeze. Rory's mouth is still hanging open when Lorelai brings the drinks over.
"What is it?" Lorelai asks, putting the cups down. "You look like I've made you decaf!"
"Um, Mom," Rory says slowly. "Why is that painting of me on the wall?"
Lorelai looks behind her to see the painting of Rory, made when she was seventeen and which once hung in Richard's study.
"It couldn't stay at Mom and Dad's old place."
"But why is it here?" Rory insists. "Here, in this house, on your living room wall?"
"Mom hadn't put it up!"
"That's not a reason for you to!"
"Sure it is!" Lorelai says, lifting Charlotte up so she can see it. "Look, Charlotte! It's your mama!"
"Mama!" Charlotte exclaims, pointing at the painting. "Mama!"
"Okay, it's freaking me out," Rory says, getting up. "That painting is horrible."
"No, it's great! Dad wanted it and look, it's a totally natural pose."
"I'm wearing that weird dress!"
"But you're reading, and that's natural! Be thankful - Grandma wanted you to have your arms above your head!"
"Thank you for the flashback, I remember," Rory grumbles. "My arms ached all afternoon!"
"And now you have that to remind you too."
"Yeah, thanks," Rory says sarcastically. Lorelai smiles sheepishly and says,
"Mom was talking about putting it in storage and I just couldn't let her - I always liked that painting of you."
"That's Emily coming out," Rory says and Lorelai's mouth hangs open.
"How very dare you."
"I'm kidding," Rory says. "It's fine, Mom. Kind of disconcerting seeing it here, but it's fine."
"Mama," Charlotte says again, sounding curious, and Lorelai gives her a bounce.
"That's right, angel."
"Bear," Charlotte says and Lorelai frowns over her head at Rory.
"Is this some nickname I haven't been clued in on?"
"She wants her bear," Rory explains, opening Charlotte's bag. "New obsession of the week. Crap, where is it...oh crap, I'm trying not to say crap! Dammit!"
"Big improvement," Lorelai remarks. "What's the crisis?"
"Bear's not here," Rory says grimly. "She'll have a meltdown."
"Uh-oh."
"I'll text Jess," Rory says, getting her phone out as Charlotte says bear again. "I know, sweets. Bear's coming."
"That doesn't sound creepy at all," Lorelai comments. "What time is Jess getting here again?"
"Sometime after dinner - he's just got a few things to finish for Truncheon. I said we could all drive down together but Jess wasn't sure how long he'd be."
"Plus it gives you more time to see your glorious mother," Lorelai grins, and jumps as Charlotte lets out a shout. "Though I didn't figure in a bear meltdown."
"She can take a nap, and hopefully Bear will be on his way," Rory says seriously. "Come on, Charlotte! Naptime!"
Charlotte resists halfheartedly, crying for her bear, but soon she's dozed off in Rory's bedroom, a childhood bear of Rory's tucked in the crook of her arm and an old shirt of Luke's Charlotte uses as a blanket under her cheek.
"Crisis averted," Lorelai murmurs under her breath. "Doesn't she look adorable?"
"It's the sleep," Rory says but she smiles, tiptoeing over to brush Charlotte's hair away from her eyes. "She is adorable, isn't she?"
"It's her grandmother's dazzling genes," Lorelai jokes, putting an arm around Rory. "Let's go finish that coffee."
Now that Charlotte's asleep Rory lets herself feel how truly tired she is. She closes her eyes for a moment and Lorelai touches her hand, startling her.
"Hey - do you need a nap too?"
"No," Rory says, yawning. "Maybe. I'm okay."
"You sound tired."
"I am tired. It's been crazy at work and taking care of Charlotte and getting ready for Christmas, and she knows what Christmas is now, sort of. She's so excited."
"That's cute though."
"It's less cute when she's waking me up by shouting Christmas in my face every morning," Rory says, making Lorelai laugh. "But it's cute she's so excited, you're right. I can't wait to take her to the Christmas Eve parade. Who's playing Santa this year?"
"Andrew."
"That's cool. He was kind of like Santa to me as a kid, ordering all those books."
"Don't I know it - I used to bring him a list of books you wanted before you were old enough to do it yourself. I remember one year you wanted them for Christmas and put them on your letter to Santa and I was so scared they wouldn't arrive in time. I'm pretty sure Andrew pulled a few strings."
"Maybe he is Santa after all," Rory says in mock-seriousness and Lorelai nods.
"But where does he keep the reindeer?"
"Miss Patty, maybe? She raises chickens."
"True," Lorelai agrees. "Or maybe Kirk...he has about a million jobs, after all."
Lorelai and Rory laugh, finishing their coffee, and Rory goes on to talk about the newest article she's working on and planning for the wedding she and Jess are having next year. Lorelai smiles over her cup and says, "You sound happy, kid."
"I am, Mom," Rory says, smiling back. "I am."
"I still can't believe you're getting married."
"Me neither."
"And to that punk," Lorelai jokes. "Man, if you'd told me back when you guys were seventeen that Luke's nephew was marrying you and tracking down a bear for your daughter I'd have broken something laughing."
"That's heartwarming," Rory says wryly. She looks down at her empty cup and feels a little sad. "I never thought I'd have Charlotte the way I did."
"Honey," Lorelai says, moving closer to her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"
"It's fine," Rory says quickly. "I'm okay - she's perfect, and I get to be her mom. How she got here doesn't matter, right?"
"Right," Lorelai says, squeezing her hand and Rory sighs.
"Logan sent a giant stuffed tiger."
"A tiger?"
"A tiger. It sings, too. Charlotte is terrified of it."
"Maybe it'll be the next step from the bear!"
"Gee, I hope not. It scares me too."
Lorelai laughs but she sounds concerned as she asks, "Have you spoken to Logan?"
"We're waiting for our annual Christmas phonecall," Rory says bitterly. "When Charlotte was born he said he'd call as much as he could. Sometimes he doesn't call for weeks and when he does, he sounds so uncomfortable."
"I guess it's an uncomfortable situation."
"I know...I just wish I could make it better. Charlotte's so young now but when she's older..." Rory's voice trails off and Lorelai hugs her arm around her shoulder, kissing the side of her daughter's head.
"Charlotte's got you, Jess, me and Luke and Mom, and she's going to be just fine. That's a promise."
"I know," Rory says, looking up and smiles as Lorelai adds, "She's a Gilmore. She's already awesome."
Lorelai puts on a Christmas movie and, without intending to, Rory falls asleep against her mother's shoulder and wakes up with a jump as the front door opens.
"Anyone home?"
"Luke!" Rory exclaims, sitting up and rubbing the crick in her neck. "Hey! Merry early Christmas!"
"Merry early Christmas!" Luke says warmly, putting down his bags of takeout and giving her a hug and then Lorelai. "And look who I found on the way here!"
Jess ducks inside, giving everyone a wave and laughing as Rory jumps up, demanding, "You're early, Mariano!"
"Good to see you too," Jess chuckles. "Got out sooner than planned."
Rory gives Jess a kiss and sighs in relief as she sees Charlotte's bear hanging in his hand, when, on cue, her daughter starts crying.
"Boy, are we glad to see you," Lorelai says seriously. "I've heard all about Bear!"
"On it," Jess says, lifting the stuffed animal up and going into Rory's room. "Where's my girl?"
Charlotte is sitting up in bed, sobbing, but when she sees Jess she lifts out her arms and says happily, "Daddy!"
"Daddy's here," Jess says, sitting on the bed and lifting Charlotte into his arms. "There's my girl. And look, I've got Bear!"
Charlotte sucks on her thumb, looks at the bear Jess has given her and hugs Rory's old one closer. "My bear," she says happily and Rory turns to Lorelai.
"I don't know if I should laugh or cry."
"Now you've got two!"
Charlotte is wide awake so they get her up and take her into the kitchen, where Rory pours her a glass of juice.
"Grandpa Luke!" Charlotte says joyfully upon sight of her grandfather, who gives her a kiss and makes her a Santa burger. Charlotte discards it after one bite but Luke simply remarks that she takes after Lorelai and pours Charlotte more juice. Jess carries Charlotte into the living room and, as Charlotte sips her drink, she catches sight of the painting of Rory again and says happily,
"Mama!"
"Oh, jeez!" Jess exclaims, staring at it. "What's that doing here?"
"That is a painting of my daughter, Jess!" Lorelai says indignantly. "You don't like it?"
"Not quite to my taste."
"Mom's teasing you," Rory says as Lorelai goes to make more coffee. "Didn't think it was her taste either...it's definitely not mine. I remember there was supposed to be a swan in that picture but it kept freaking out, and looked ready to attack."
"I told you swans are vicious birds," Jess says seriously and Rory laughs.
"That they are. I'm lucky it didn't beak me, huh? What with that and the deer hitting my car I haven't had much luck with wildlife."
They look at the picture a little longer. Seeing it again makes Rory almost feel that uncomfortable dress she'd had to wear for it, but it also reminds her of Richard, who'd put in his study. He'd been so happy it was worth the pain of posing and Rory smiles.
"That painting really creeps me out," Jess says to Rory, breaking her thoughts. "I'd almost forgotten it exists."
"Me too."
"Can I throw a towel over it?" Jess asks but smiles as his daughter says insistently to him, "Mama!"
"That's right, that's your mama," Jess says to Charlotte. "Wasn't she pretty?"
"I still am," Rory teases and then gives her daughter a kiss. "That's me a long time ago, Charlotte."
Charlotte, bored of art for the day, loudly announces that she needs the bathroom. Rory takes her and when she gets back finds that Jess has put a blanket over the painting.
"It's not that bad," Rory laughs and Jess protests, "It just weirds me out a little."
"I know. Mom really likes it for some reason."
"Because it's of you."
"There's a million photos of me," Rory protests and Jess says, "Yeah, but it's a special painting. Plus her dad wanted it...probably makes Lorelai think of him too."
Rory nods and Jess takes the blanket off before Lorelai comes back in. They look at it a moment longer until Charlotte runs past them, a Christmas cookie tight in her hand and Lorelai at her heels pretending to be annoyed.
The rest of the evening is spent eating too much (or just enough according to Lorelai and Rory) and catching up, Charlotte asleep with both bears beside her. The next day they go for a walk around Stars Hollow, admiring the lights, and Lorelai dresses Charlotte in a miniature Santa outfit, coaxed only away from taking pictures all evening by being reminded of the parade. Luke is talked into going with them under much duress, grumbling about tradition, but quietens as Charlotte starts getting excited to see Santa. They all head out, joined by Lane and her kids, but there's worried murmuring amongst the crowd as they arrive.
"What's wrong?" Lorelai asks Babette. "Did Kirk get stuck hanging up the Christmas lights again?"
"Andrew's sick as a dog," Babette says. "Was trying on his Santa suit earlier and bam! Puked all over the square."
"Oh no," Lorelai groans. "Poor Andrew."
"Please tell me they cleaned the square," Rory says queasily but her nausea is far from abated as Babette cheerfully tells her Petal took care of it. "Is Andrew okay?"
"He's fine, sugar," Babette promises. "Just got a high fever and talking about elves dancing on the ceiling!"
"Sounds like a real Tom Wolfe Christmas," Jess whispers to Rory who giggles guiltily.
"Who's taking his spot?" she asks and Babette spreads her hands.
"No one, far as I can tell, that's the problem. Andrew only just got sick and the parade is starting in five minutes!"
"Charlotte's going to be so disappointed," Rory says sadly. "Honey, Santa might not make it, okay?"
"No Santa?"
"He had to see a man about an elf," Jess jokes but picks Charlotte up as her lower lip starts trembling. "Hey, it's okay kiddo, he's still going to come later. He's just busy right now."
Charlotte sniffles into Jess's neck and he kisses her curly hair beneath the Santa hat. "You're like Santa too, dressed like that!"
"Look, angel," Rory says. "Aren't the lights pretty?"
Charlotte is unappeased. They go over to a stand to buy hot chocolate before the parade starts and Rory smiles, remembering the Christmas she was pregnant and Jess had gotten her hot chocolate and doughnut after the van had closed. She'd been so sad, that Christmas, but that night had been perfect and she leans up to give her fiancé a kiss.
"Your mouth tastes of chocolate," Rory says and Jess grins.
"That a problem?"
"Nope, a bonus."
They kiss again and break apart as Lorelai asks, "Hey, where's Luke?"
"He was here a second ago," Rory says, looking around. "Maybe he went back to the house?"
Lorelai frowns. "He would have told me."
"Maybe he had to run over to the diner," Jess suggests. "Luke'll show up in a minute, I'm positive."
Lorelai nods but she stares around at the crowd. "Maybe I should go look for him."
"Mom, the parade's starting."
They all look up as the procession starts, lanterns gleaming in the dark. Rory hugs Charlotte closely to her, breathing in her soft warmth, and then jumps as her daughter shrieks, "Santa!"
Someone has filled in after all. The surprise Santa marches along, sack on his back, ringing a bell and calling, "Merry Christmas!"
Rory stops in disbelief and a glance at her family shows they're thinking the same. It can't be.
"Luke?" Lorelai exclaims and the Santa stops, saying under his breath, "I'll explain later. Merry Christmas!"
Rory looks over at Jess to see him laughing so hard he's almost doubled over and starts laughing herself, almost dropping her daughter who is wriggling with excitement.
"Santa! Santa! I want to see Santa!"
"She's as bold as you are," Rory remarks to Lorelai and nods as Luke stops to take Charlotte's hand. "Go on, sweets! It's Santa!"
"I remember when it was you in those parades," Lorelai says fondly as they watch Charlotte walk in the parade with Luke, eyes wide with excitement and her costume matching his. "You were just as cute."
"I can't believe Luke did that for her."
"I can," Lorelai says and Rory smiles.
"Actually, I can too."
After the parade when Luke has given out all the gifts in the sack, they head back to the house. Before Jess has opened his mouth Luke holds up a hand.
"Not one word, nephew."
"Just wanted to know if there was anything in that sack for me, St Nick."
"More of the lump of coal variety."
"I'll bet," Jess grins. "Thought you hated tradition?"
"Anything else, wiseguy?"
"Yes," Jess says, stopping. Luke stops as well, looking defensive, but smiles as Jess says sincerely, "It was really great of you to step in like that."
"Couldn't disappoint Charlotte," Luke says simply. "I know how excited she was."
"Thank you," Rory says and her stepfather smiles, hugging his arm around her.
"It was my pleasure."
It's less fun getting Charlotte ready for bed. She's hyped up on sugar and general Christmas excitement and even once she's been convinced into getting changed into her new pyjamas, which also have Santa on, Charlotte runs up and down the hall shouting, "Christmas!" at the top of her lungs.
"It's bedtime," Rory says firmly. "Christmas won't come if you don't go to sleep."
Her daughter stares at her blankly and then shouts, "Christmas!" yet again.
"Come on, little miss," Jess says, lifting her up. "Time for sleep."
Charlotte allows her parents to tuck her into bed, both bears beside her, and finally closes her eyes after a story. Rory and Jess back out, holding their breath, and stay up a little later after Lorelai and Luke have turned in for the night.
"I can't believe Christmas is tomorrow," Rory groans and Jess grins.
"I can. Our daughter's reminded us of it enough times."
"Too many."
"One day she'll be a moody teenager and won't want to celebrate Christmas at all."
"Don't ever say those things, Jess Mariano," Rory says, sitting up. "Not our little girl!"
"She'll still be our teenager."
"That's a million years away," Rory says sleepily and smiles as Jess says, "We'll be married then too."
"I know...crazy."
"Not crazy - it makes total sense."
"Not arguing."
Rory sits up, putting her arms around Jess and kisses him. He kisses her back, smiling into her mouth and as they lie down together on the couch the living room door bursts open. Rory and Jess break apart like guilty teenagers as their daughter walks in, rubbing her eyes.
"Christmas?" she asks sleepily and Rory says gently, "Not yet, sweets. Go back to bed."
"Want up," Charlotte says and, although Rory and Jess are trying to get her to sleep through the night, Jess goes over, lifts her into his arms and carries her over to the couch.
"Here we go," he says gently. Charlotte snuggles between them, sucking her thumb.
"Sleepy," she tells them, eyelids drooping. Jess gives her a kiss and they see that Charlotte has fallen asleep. Rory gently takes her back to bed, tucking her in, and tiptoes back to find that Jess has dozed off too. Rory watches him, half-amused and half-disappointed and then climbs onto the couch with him, lying beside him.
"Rory?" Jess asks sleepily and Rory gives him a small kiss.
"Merry Christmas, Jess."
"Love you," Jess says, half-asleep. Rory closes her eyes, just for a moment, and the next thing she knows someone is jumping all over her.
"CHRISTMAS!"
"Yes, it is," Rory groans, wondering how such a small person can be so loud. "Don't jump on my leg, sweets."
"CHRISTMAS!"
"Did someone say it's Christmas?" Jess exclaims, getting up and swinging Charlotte into his arms, making her roar with laughter. "Merry Christmas, Charlotte!"
Rory watches them for a moment, her heart full. Right now, nothing matters. The only thing Rory knows is that Jess is Charlotte's father in the ways that matter, it's Christmas morning and she's so happy she can't speak. She smiles and smiles at them until Charlotte shouts, "Mama!"
"Merry Christmas, sweets!" Rory exclaims, getting up and giving her daughter a big kiss. "You're still the best gift I've ever gotten."
Jess hugs her and Charlotte tightly until Lorelai and Luke come in, and talk turns to Christmas wishes and excitement over opening the gifts under the tree (a contest between Lorelai and Charlotte).
"Luke, you going to dress up as Santa again?" Jess teases and Luke points at him.
"Onetime thing, my friend. Next year it's your turn."
"I'd like to see that," Rory teases. They gather around the tree and Lorelai's eyes meet Rory's. Mother and daughter smile and Rory remembers all their Christmases, just the two of them but no less magical. It's a long time ago but equally, no time at all.
"Merry Christmas, Mom."
"Merry Christmas, Rory."
They turn to Charlotte, the newest Gilmore girl, who's reading the picture book Jess gave her with joy in her eyes and Rory's heart swells. She loves her daughter so much it hurts and, without getting what Luke would call sappy, isn't this what Christmas is all about? This is what Rory remembers, from those Christmases before. Not that it was a small occasion, not the stress of going to her grandparents - it was the love of it all. Love for her mother and now love for her daughter. Rory looks around at her family and relaxes into the bliss of it. Merry Christmas.
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Theory of An End - GureShin Vampire AU (R17+)
◈ Pairing: GureShin
◈ Characters: Hiiragi Shinya, Ichinose Guren, Hyakuya Yuuichirou
◈ Genre: Vampire AU
◈ Warnings: Major Character Death, Character Death, Blood, Mild Gore, Heavy Angst, Violence, Injuries, No Happy Ending, Lovers to Enemies
◈ Word Count: 8888
◈ Summary:
Not a soul was left alive to forgive him for the sins he wrought. Shinya would have–he saw it in his eyes the moment he opened the door to perchance the only means of reprieve offered to him. He would have been welcomed, loved, and protected for all he was worth had his jealousy over Shinya finding happiness in the comforting familial bond with a blameless child not tinged his perspective red.
Author’s Notes: Hi, Feli here! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ I am Renee’s Secret Santa for the ONS Gift Exchange. I hope you enjoy reading GureShin suffering!
Misery was a weighty, burdensome concept best left alone and out of the forethoughts of people; there was no rhyme or reason to it, only the torment of knowing it was inevitable. But who had the time or the energy to think about it?
At the current moment–roughly eighteen minutes past seven in the evening–such burdening thoughts about the absurdity of fate’s infliction of torment were nowhere near the focus of the man’s mind as he ushered his laughing child down from their kitchen counter. The man, Hiiragi Shinya, held onto his son’s tiny frame as he carefully set him down onto the floor, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a mirth he recently allowed himself to feel for the first time in over seven years.
He felt safe, warm, happy with the family of two he made for himself. All it took was two other failures for him to finally get it right. Shinya knelt next to the boy, using both of his hands to cup the round face full of flour and chopped vegetables.
“How do you expect us to eat dinner when you’re wearing half of it on your face, Yuucchi?” He laughed with the softest, fondest note carrying in his tone across the messy kitchen. It was a sound that surprised and comforted him, especially when he received a whimsical snicker from the child before him.
“It’s not half, papa!” Yuuichirou placed his small hands on the older man’s own cheeks and smeared his grimy fingers across the soft skin to mirror his own face. “Now it’s on you!”
“Oh, it’s on little man!” With a lively battle cry Shinya began chasing his little bundle of joy around the kitchen, causing bounties of laughter to erupt into the room. It had been ages since Shinya allowed himself to feel so young and free, unburdened by past grievances and forgotten promises. The absolute light of his life never ceased to bring unbridled happiness to their little home of two.
After several minutes of entertaining his son’s amusement, Shinya swooped in to pull the eight-year-old off his feet and swung him in the air. “Come on Yuucchi, we need to clean up after supper, not make more of a mess you little monster!” The older man blew a raspberry on Yuu’s floured cheek, which caused the child to shriek with laughter and squirm in his grasp.
“Papa, that tickles!” Yuu grinned widely, showing off his missing front tooth that was lost just the other day. The sight of the absolute purity of his child made Shinya feel so soft and mushy inside, for he knew his little baby boy had him wrapped around his finger.
His heart clenched at Yuu’s innocent little cherub cheeks raising to rosy peaks under the coating of food on his face. Had he not disciplined himself earlier to the power of a child’s smile, he would have continued up until the early hours of the morning playing with Yuu. As it stood, he had work in the morning and Yuu had a strict bedtime that was fast-approaching.
Shinya sighed and rose to his feet, extending his messy hand for Yuu to grasp, another wave of content and bubbly affection making his chest flutter and the need to shower his child in all the love he had to give stronger. “Let’s get you cleaned up. If you do a good job of washing up for the night, I might think about letting you stay up an hour later.”
The tiny gasp of excitement filtered up towards his ear, and Shinya chanced a peak down at the small child looking up at him with wide sparkling eyes and a challenge written all over his face. “Can you do it by the time I finish washing the dishes?”
Yuu nodded. Then nodded again, with a small tug at Shinya’s hand as further affirmation. “I’ll do it before you finish! Way before! I’m going to be the fastest shower-er you’ve ever seen!” The smile on Shinya’s face grew wider before he released Yuu’s hand and ruffled his hair, earning him a soft hey! and small, delicate hands swatting his own away.
“Good boy. I’ll check up on you just to make sure you’re all right. Go get ‘em, tiger!”
Finishing off their usual banter, Yuu hunched his back and hissed, pretending to be one of the big, terrifying jungle cats he and his adopted father loved so much. He pawed at Shinya’s arm like it was his next big meal before dropping the act to give his beloved parent a quick hug and a rushed okay. Almost as fast as he agreed to the challenge of bathing himself, Yuu scampered off to their upstairs bathroom, leaving Shinya alone in their kitchen.
Alone with the empty plates of dinner; alone with the silence of solitude one too many times revisited; alone with the thoughts he told himself he didn’t have time for.
Where did he go?
That was the question that haunted Shinya’s thoughts at night, when Yuu was fast asleep in his arms and he only had his endless trail of thoughts to keep him company in the wee hours of the morning.
Seven years. Seven long years of pain and constant questioning of his adequacy as a lover and future spouse. Seven years of replaying their final moments together before he left in the blink of an eye, with no trace as to where he disappeared into the night. Seven years wishing he could change what he said.
Two young men sat in a small house with only a few candles to light their shelter. One sat hunched in his seat at the dinner table, tightly gripping a mug of coffee, while the other tersely strapped on various weapons to his belt and shoulder holsters.
“I’m going out tonight to do some perimeter scouting, don’t wait up for me to get back.”
The silver-haired man, without turning from his slouched position at the dinner table, waved dismissively to the dark-haired man standing in the open doorway. “Do whatever you want Guren, see if I care.”
The man, Guren, shrugged and fastened his knife to his belt. “If you’re going to be a little bitch about ‘safety protocols’ you should write a damn book.”
The other man visibly tightened in his posture and bit out, “Just fucking leave already. Maybe don’t even bother coming back if you still hold your damn attitude about those protocols that are meant to protect everyone.”
Guren released a grunt of sarcastic amusement while attaching the sheath to his sword to his hip. “I bet you would get a kick out of the irony if I turned up dead. You would finally get to say ‘I told you so’, just like you always wanted, huh Shinya?”
SLAM.
Fists smacked down onto the unsteady wooden table in a moment of unchecked fury. Barely retaining even a sense of control, Shinya started, “OH YOU-”
Before the man could even begin his tirade, the door was slammed shut on his words.
And just like that, he was gone, leaving Shinya with the sound of the slammed door ringing in his ears. Leaving him alone in their small home they built together, never to return, and left with only regrets of words he wishes he could take back.
If only he had known the consequences of letting him go that night.
Realistically, Shinya knew Guren had to have died then, likely too cocky in his own actions and got caught up in more than he could chew, but the man couldn’t bring himself to believe that he was dead. He spent night after night waiting for him to return, hoping that this feeling of abandonment was only temporary and that he would soon no longer be alone in the reticent, reclusive house.
Hoping he would have the chance to say he was sorry.
Boy, was he fucking wrong about that.
The first week left him spiralling into an abyss: Shinya couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t get out of bed without Guren. The physical ache of losing his other half, his partner, his friend, his lover, his everything burnt gaping holes into his body and heart; it sucked him dry, almost as if a pitiful horde of dirty blood-drinking leeches pried open his neck and had their fill. Every night he screamed for the one man he cared for to return to him. Every morning he wept for the other’s soothing, firm embrace to quiet him like it used to.
The first year left him empty: Shinya threw himself into his work, into dangerous battles against mob upon mob of vampires. He didn’t care what he did, who he hurt, or what happened to him, so as long as he enacted revenge for his fallen lover. That year, while his number and positions rose amongst the vampire slaying corps, his sanity tumbled. He became belligerent; trigger happy–an unfortunate carbon-copy of Guren’s flaws neatly packaged into one desolate bachelor–all-too-ready to drop his responsibilities in order to kill the bastard creatures that ripped his happiness from him in the span of one night. It disgusted him that he became the very thing he despised, but also comforted him in the depths of delusions, where he could pretend that Guren was somehow still with him to keep him company.
Eventually, his willingness to throw his life away for the sake of reprisal came to bite the blue-eyed man in the ass. Tasked with protecting a hospital during an evacuation outside of vampire territory, Shinya failed to defend a handful of patients from a group of nobles. He failed to support his team when they demanded his backup, and he was almost expelled.
Expulsion would have been fine. He accepted it. Then one of his former teammates–one of his and Guren’s long-standing friends–made the heated comment about Guren’s demise being because of Shinya’s lack of vigilance during a dispute on the way back to headquarters for a mission debriefing, and the young Hiiragi lost it.
Without any further thought, he raised his weapon at the fool with an expression void of emotion and eyes blazing in icy rage.
He was put on compassionate leave immediately following the incident.
Then he met Yuu.
There were very few survivors from that hospital, and tiny, two-year-old Yuu had been one of them. He was picked up from an abandoned experimental cult laboratory and brought to the medical base for treatment, and after Shinya’s failed mission, he was moved to a more secure medical facility. Feeling sorry for himself, the older man proceeded to visit the survivors to reinforce the guilt surrounding his inability to protect them like he should have.
Yuu looked so small and was dwarfed in his hospital bed, extremely malnourished and thin due to his mistreatment from whatever cult he was rescued from. Despite his condition, the smile he gave Shinya when he entered his room was so wide and bright it gave the man whiplash. How could someone so broken and utterly pathetic smile so easily like everything was right with the world, like everything was right in Shinya’s world?
Oh how quickly he changed his mind.
Within a matter of days the silver-haired man was printing his signature on adoption papers and taking his little Yuucchi home to his lonely and empty home. Within a day the place was lit up with warmth and contentment beyond whatever Shinya had seen within the last year.
Yuuichirou and Shinya. They completed each other, like the rice and curry in Yuu’s favourite dinner-time dish. Yuu was the sunshine to Shinya’s rain, and Shinya was the love that Yuu never received. The two of them were a team, and together they healed each other’s ugly wounds left by lost souls and chipped time on their clocks. Without Yuu, there was no meaning to existence, because that tiny child gave Shinya new meaning to the word “life”.
Yuu was his chance to mend a life after he broke another.
Shinya heaved a deep sigh, dropped his arms to hang limply at his sides, and stared blankly across the threshold of their home. The setting sun, whose fleeting rays of light painted the pristine white walls sickly shades of red, cast shadows within the living room and accentuated the loneliness he felt crawling up the pit of his stomach to settle under his sternum. A dull sensation he couldn’t describe caught in his throat, and Shinya forced himself to turn back into the kitchen, away from the front door, and away from the frantic what ifs threatening to break to the surface of his mind.
It was absurd to entertain the possibility that maybe the front door might open and his tiny, misshapen family could be a little bigger; it was foolish to regress back to the weak shell of a man waiting for a corpse to rise from the dead holding a bouquet of roses and an apology card; it was stupid of him to hope and dream, but that’s all he had left of the love shared between him and Guren.
The sound of running bath water added to the white noise of the house, Yuu’s clamouring upstairs setting Shinya’s nerves at ease for a moment or two. Leave it to him to set aside his stormy emotions to ensure the safety of his child. Which reminded him–
“Yuu!” Shinya called out, loud enough for his son to hear him upstairs. While he awaited a response, he rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and turned on the faucet to allow a steady stream of hot water to run over the dirty dishes.
“Yeah?” The child’s voice rang clear against the walls, puzzled at the sudden call of his name.
“Make sure you wash your hair, too! I don’t want to see any breadcrumbs or chicken pieces in there!”
A pause. The silver-haired man, with his hands reaching for the sponge and dish soap, heard the unmistakable titter of amusement, and couldn’t stop the small smile fighting its way back to his lips despite the nature of his thoughts only seconds ago.
Yuu brought out the best in him, and he would not have it any other way.
Just before Shinya had finished washing and drying their dinnerware, he heard the clambering of heavy footfalls down the stairs before his son burst into the kitchen in his favourite yellow pyjamas, a faint trail of water droplets falling behind him from his still damp hair.
“Papa, I finished before you, I win!” Yuu’s triumphant grin was contagious as he marched around the kitchen chanting, “I win, I win, I win!”
Setting aside the last plate, Shinya dried his hands and turned to face his child. “Not so fast, Yuucchi, your hair is still wet!” The older man snatched the bath towel from Yuu’s grasp and placed it down on his small head to playfully rub it around. “If anyone won it’s me!”
Yuu pouted and crossed his arms in defiance as his father dried his hair under his gentle hands. Mumbling with an attitude Shinya was sure he hadn’t taught him, he grumbled out, “You never said anything about my hair needing to be dry…”
Arching a sculpted brow and making an exaggerated thinking face, the older man said, “You know, you are right. Guess I forfeit my win! You can stay up an extra hour as your reward.”
Most people would say that Shinya was spoiling Yuu, and that he needs to learn how to discipline the child for his own good, but he could not help it. The smiles and grins and laughter were all worth a little spoiling every now and then, since Shinya had gone so long without any of those things during the worst period of his life.
Yuu cheered, jumping with a punctuated fist pump into the air. Shinya steadied him, quietly reminding him that his hair was still damp and that he might slip if he wasn’t careful. Regardless of the safety warnings, Yuu began tugging at Shinya’s shirt to encourage the older man to follow him up to their shared bedroom to watch television for the extra hour Yuu could stay awake (even though he was already eight years old, he still insisted Shinya protect him from the nightmares haunting him and the vampires threatening to break apart their family.)
Carefully disentangling the little raveonette’s delicate hands from his clothing, Shinya ran his fingers through Yuu’s hair–full of affection, full of apology.
“Calm down, sweetie. Papa has a few more things to take care of before he calls it a night. You run ahead to bed and I’ll join you in a few minutes, okay?”
“Aww… can I help clean up?” Yuu pouted, evident that being away from his father was not something he liked doing often. Certain memories of Yuu’s separation anxiety flare ups flashed across his mind, throwing him back to four years ago when the child began preschool and the reality that he wouldn’t be attached to Shinya at the hip hit him harder than any of the other children. With that suddenly weighing heavily on his conscience, Shinya took Yuu’s other hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“You did a great job cleaning yourself up. Let me finish super-duper quickly–I promise I won’t leave you alone for longer than five minutes.”
“… You promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
The expression on Yuu’s face looked uncertain, anxious, like he sensed something foreboding in the atmosphere, waiting in the shadows for the perfect moment to strike. Shinya figured Yuu was truly averse to being left alone for any period of time, deciding that physical reassurance might ease his strained little nerves. He bent down again, silently hissing when he felt a sharp pain travel up his leg from the unexpected instability in his joints… he was too young for joint pain, but the stupidity of his vanity brought a terse smile to his lips, one that he hoped would work to calm Yuu. Cupping Yuu’s face and pressing tender kisses to his nose and cheeks, he said: “You know I’ll be there in no time. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“What if you don’t? I heard that a lot of vampires are coming and hurting little kids while their parents are gone! They stalk everyone while when no one watches! The kids at school said that it happens really fast, so what if–”
“Shhhhhhh, nothing is going to happen, Yuucchi. Our house has wards all around it to protect us, no big scary vampires can get in if I have anything to say about it,” the man lied. He knew better than to fill Yuu’s head with deceit, given the boy had a knack for always finding out the truth sooner or later. The technical flaws of the wards were too high over his own head to properly understand, much less explain to a child. Yes, their house was safe from a majority of vampires, should they lack potent Noble blood coursing through their veins; No, their house and their very lives were not safe from any vampire with a drop of Nobility. The wards could protect them from a mass of lowly cretins but would be ineffective again a single vampire high enough in the hierarchy–Shinya and Yuu would be at a single monster’s mercy, unable to escape and sentenced to death in the comfort of their own home.
Shinya smoothed the unmanageable tufts of Yuu’s hair and gave him a reassuring squeeze around the shoulders. “Papa won’t be long, go put on your favourite cartoon and I be right there, okay?”
The little raveonette seemed hesitant, but he nodded in affirmation and quietly left the kitchen for their bedroom, but not without sparing an anxious glance to the window.
With the boy now gone, Shinya’s mind began to unfortunately wander again. Yuu’s worrying only reminded him of the cruel and twisted world they live in. It was easy to forget about certain things like the danger of the virus that broke out in major cities or the blood-thirsty creatures that roamed the countryside at night. With the full and bright comfort of home that Shinya stitched together for his misshapen family, it was easy to forget how feeble life was. Shinya’s blood family was torn away from him at an early age, and Guren was taken just as easily by the creatures they both sought to destroy.
It was so easy to forget and try to move on.
Dispersing the intrusive thoughts, Shinya set himself to sorting and putting away the clean dishes in the kitchen cabinets in order to quickly return to Yuu. The poor child never did well on his own, and even Shinya himself had grown so attached to the boy that even a little separation was nerve-wracking.
Just as Shinya put away the last plate, there was a soft knock at the door. The silver-haired man paused and quickly wondered who would be out at this time of night. Only a man with a death wish would be out in the open like this, coming to Shinya’s remote and isolated home.
A second, louder knock echoed throughout the house that added to the confusion plaguing Shinya. Maybe some lost wanderer needed a place to stay for the night, away from the dangers lurking in the shadows was what he thought initially, since it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for his area. He approached the door, flipping on the switch for the outdoor light to help him better see the madman daring enough to brave the dark.
He unlocked it and opened the door enough to view the person on the other side, not at all prepared to stare into the vibrant red eyes of the man he once loved.
Before Shinya stood an almost identical copy of the man who disappeared from plain sight seven years ago, but there was an alarming, disturbing difference: skin he remembered to have been beautifully tanned and tinged in the warmest pink of life retained no colour besides that of ash; the pallor of his complexion heightened the vacant gleam in his unwavering eyes, as red as the blood rushing away from Shinya’s face.
Despite the differences, the similarities were the most painful, the most overwhelming to acknowledge: the signature down set of his lips, all business and arrogance with just a hint of compromise; the undeniable glow of worry, yearning, and love swimming within the depths of crimson, completely irrelevant to the substantial amount of time Shinya last had the opportunity to gaze into them.
He didn’t realise tears were stinging the corners of his eyes, that one hand–white knuckled and trembling–balled into a fist against his mouth, and the other gripped the door frame for support, because somewhere in his lapse of reality for the short four seconds of processing just who he was face to face with, Shinya’s knees nearly gave out. He didn’t realise the quivering knot in the back of his throat restricting his voice until he tried to whisper a name he didn’t have the luxury of pushing past his tongue in god knows how long.
“G… Guren…? Is–is that…?”
All he received in response was a quiet, resigned, mournful sigh of acknowledgement, and Shinya instinctively reached out to cup his former lover’s cheek in an action full of solace and intimacy. And it stung as his fingertips ghosted over the rock solid skin retaining nothing but a dead chill in it. Guren sighed again, in tortured comfort when the warmth of Shinya’s gentle hand seeped into his body.
“God… what did they do to you?” Shinya whispered in a broken, strained whisper he only used to share with Guren. Just like it used to be.
Amidst the pools of relief and love in the man’s now crimson eyes, there was a deep and dark pit of hatred and resignation from some years of unspoken torture and pain. Those eyes told of agony beyond what Shinya could understand, of misery that no one should ever be subjected to.
Guren tilted his face into the warmth of Shinya’s hand and spoke vaguely. “You know what they do vampire hunters, Shinya. They torture us and make us their pets.”
Before Shinya could help himself and think further of this unannounced situation, he flung himself at the dark-haired man and embraced him in a flurry of tears and consolation. He sobbed into Guren’s shoulder and let the tidal wave of seven years of abandonment and regret wash over him and be heard in his whimpers and weeping. For what seemed like hours he cried into freshly pressed white button-down shirt that Guren wore and likely stained it with his tears, but he did not care.
He was home.
After several minutes however, Shinya backed away from Guren’s unrequited embrace and mustered up a cautious tone. “How… how did you get here? There are wards all around the house and property to… keep vampires away… Unless–oh no, Guren…”
The larger man turned his head and fixed his glare somewhere on the ground, purposefully ignoring the question. Of course… if Guren could get past the wards then he must have been turned by a Noble. What an idiot Shinya was for not realizing it sooner, but then again–imagining Guren still alive after all these years was one of his wildest dreams. Shinya reached out to gently turn his former lover’s face back to meet his, red and blue eyes teeming with so many years’ worth of questions and stories to be told. Above all else, deep sorrow etched into the permanent frown lines on Shinya’s otherwise young face enhanced the regret pooling in his vision, biting the tip of his tongue.
“I-I’m so sorry… Fuck, I’m so stupid. I’m so, so stupid… was it a Noble who–who–” Shinya’s voice caught in his throat as his fingers reflexively curled around Guren’s jaw and his eyes wandered to his neck, like if he stared hard enough he could still see the puncture wounds left by a vicious monster. But it faded the moment Guren stopped walking among the living, and in place of physical scars were scars crafted of shame. Bitterness.
Remorse.
“I–If I just… If I didn’t let you go that night… you wouldn’t have… y-you… You’d have been okay,” he whimpered, low enough for the rush of his laboured breathing to carry his voice away; unstable enough that it crumbled in front of Guren as he lay out all of his self-directed blame in one final display. Shinya opened his mouth to speak again–he knew it, of course it was his fault, of course!–yet all that escaped him bubbled in his mouth as a wet sob and a hysterical rushed string of apologies.
“Guren, I’m–”
“Stop.”
The bite in the vampire’s voice made the silver-haired man visibly flinch and shy away from the other, though the tiny bit of distance was quickly closed as two strong arms wrapped themselves around his frame and pulled him into a crushing hug. “Stop blaming yourself and stop crying. Neither of us can change what happened, so stop. Please.”
Feeling those arms around him again only made the tears flow harder from Shinya’s eyes. After years of forgetting the warmth and strength behind Guren’s embrace, it was like being enveloped in a sweet memory that he refused to accept he so desperately wanted to relive. And so Shinya allowed himself to bask in the hug and shed the physical manifestation of his relief into Guren’s shoulder once more, even though the memory was not as warm as it used to be.
After several more moments of crying, the younger of the two gently pried himself out of the embrace and rubbed away the remnants of tears from his eyes. “Look at me, crying like this… we should get inside, it would be best that we don’t doddle around his time of night.”
The silver-haired man walked back into his kitchen with a heavy but relieved feeling in his steps, contrasted by the heavy, sombre out-of-place footsteps trailing behind. Guren peered sourly at the various decorations around the small house, focusing more intently on ones he didn’t remember being there seven years ago. The plethora of crudely drawn crayon art stuck to the fridge received an especially long and foreign glance–including the newest one drawn by the child, who he’s come to know as “Yuu”, just a few days prior of himself learning how to ride a bike– but Shinya paid no mind to the subtle oddities. It went unnoticed that the door was quietly locked behind Guren’s entrance.
“We have a lot of catching up to do. I’ll make some tea and maybe heat up some leftovers! You can also meet-”
“Shinya.”
The way in which Guren said his name had the silver-haired man pausing in his excited movements. He turned to meet Guren’s gaze and offered a questioning look.
“I’m afraid I’m not here for the reasons you might hope.” There were implications behind his vague words that Shinya did not understand. This moment should be a celebration, a joyous occasion of a lover returning home to his partner of years past, but Guren appeared as if he were preparing to attend a funeral.
Hesitantly, Shinya asked, “Then why…?”
“I want you to kill me.”
He… he wanted what?
Shinya kept the smile plastered on his face to keep some pseudo-semblance of control over the situation; kept his eyes unfocused to prevent any unwarranted glances at Guren and risk breaking down again. Some awful, heavy lump of dread weighing down the pit of his stomach resonated with the nagging adrenaline spike–that engaging Guren while so emotionally compromised would end terribly.
He knew this, but he was at the point where rationality and forethought came to a screeching halt the second he let his former lover into his house, unprotected and vulnerable.
“… What kind of fucked up joke–”
“I want you to kill me, Shinya,” the vampire repeated, firmer, more urgency in his trembling voice layered with so much anguish. He approached the blue-eyed man then, grasping the hands balled at his sides and bringing them up to press sweet, slow kisses against his knuckles. “I can’t keep living like this. You’re my last option.”
Shinya tried to pull his hands away, the smile on his face dropping to disbelief and fear, but the hold Guren had him in was too tight for him to slip out of unless he didn’t mind breaking a few bones. “Well, I–I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. Guren–you… you left me for seven years, and the first time I get to see you and try to relinquish the blame I put on myself for not protecting you, you ask me to kill you? Do you just really not care about how I feel?”
“Shinya…”
“No… no! No, you don’t get to disappear and then come to me because you’re too much of a coward to kill yourself. If–if you came here…” He turned his head to the side, momentarily shutting out Guren to streamline the frantic, panicked, angry, desolate thoughts hammering away in his mind. “You don’t really want to die–no, you can’t. Maybe you just want me to help… I–I can try to think of something so that we can cha–”
“Shinya.”
The tone of man’s voice vibrated with a heavy plea for the impossible. Shinya could not bear to meet Guren’s eyes and instead screwed his own shut in some in vain effort to avoid committing an atrocity such as ending an undeserving life. There was a resigned sigh, and the cold, lifeless hands of the living corpse in front of Shinya let go of his own warm ones.
The two of them were so engrossed in their conversation that they both failed to hear the quiet sound of a door opening from the upstairs bedroom.
“Papa, are you okay?” The soft timbre of Yuu’s voice echoed off the walls of the house from the bedroom, reminding Shinya that he and his long-lost lover were not alone as they used to be. Quiet thudding followed the voice as Yuu was likely coming down the stairs to check on the commotion. Shinya spared a quick glance towards the sound before he was looking back into Guren’s own lifeless ones, words of appease on his tongue before he nearly choked on a sudden realization.
We’re not alone.
The hairs on the back of Shinya’s neck rose to stand on end, forcing some unseen feeling to make the man meet Guren’s unwavering gaze. Even though it had been seven long years of separation, the vampire hunter still knew how to read Guren’s expressions like the back of his hand.
The crimson darkness in the vampire’s eyes glimmered without a single speck of relenting mercy, brought on by years of suffering in an unforgiving solitude; years of leaving his humanity behind to flesh out the beast he was turned into.
No.
No.
No.
“Guren I swear on all the angels if you–“
“I’m sorry Shinya, but if you won’t kill me, I’ll give you a reason to.”
One second Guren was there in front of Shinya, and in the next he vanished, leaving only the speed of his movements ruffling the ends of Shinya’s silver hair. Before the man could even process what was happening, a blood-curdling scream rang in the recesses of his mind and forced his legs to begin sprinting to the bedroom on autopilot.
Where Yuu should have been standing at the foot of the stairs, there was nothing but a dent in the wall and evidence of something being dragged up the stairs from the small scratches in the wallpaper and the banister.
In an instant, adrenaline and terror shot down his spine as his legs propelled him up the stairs. Before Shinya could make it to the threshold of his bedroom door, his widened eyes made contact with the teary, petrified ones of his son clutching his shoulder in an apparent gesture of pain and he could taste the vile hatred bubbling up from his stomach as he neared Yuu with an outstretched hand–
“Yuuichirou, run–!!”
And then the door slammed shut with enough force to splinter the doorframe.
From within, Shinya heard the heavy steps of a monster approaching the muffled whimpers of a helpless child. He heard Yuu choke on his breath in startled sob before releasing a scream that made Shinya’s stomach tear; something massive and bulky was thrown against the floor and skidded with almost perfect precision to hit the bedroom door, and it dawned on him too late that Guren was barricading him and his child inside; Yuu’s screams and whimpering grew louder, more frantic, as Shinya made out the disorderly tread of his feet on the tile.
He was scared. Scared for his child. Scared for himself. Guren be damned to the vilest cesspool in Hell if he didn’t get out of his house and away from Yuu. Shinya–breath trembling and vision swimming–braced himself as he threw his body against the hardwood door, hissing in excruciating pain when the bones in his clavicle snapped and his shoulder popped out of its socket from the sheer force he used to try to break the door open. Like an idiot, his weapon was secure and disabled under the bed–exactly how Guren taught him to store it all those years ago–and too far out of his reach to call upon his demon to rescue Yuu.
“Guren–Guren stop! STOP, PLEASE!” Shinya beat his fists against the wood over and over and over and over again in an attempt to get inside and stop the imminent massacre.
Even if he managed to bust the door open and get the gun, he’d be too late.
From behind the door, glass shattered–presumably from the window–and he heard a shocked grunt so out of place from Yuu; he heard a small body slam against several surfaces–the television which crashed to the ground; the wall that then caved in on itself; the bed which creaked and buckled under the force of the blows over it–and the blood curdling screams and howls of a child being tortured harmonizing with it.
He heard Yuu cry for him, for someone to save him; heard the little eight-year-old put up a struggle and try to defend himself by throwing what he could at Guren. But nothing worked. Those heavy footsteps still padded the floor and stopped suddenly.
For a moment, the silence preceding what Shinya knew and hoped wouldn’t happen made the entire situation feel like some terrible, terrible nightmare.
And then reality dug its barred fangs deeply, mercilessly, into his neck.
The sounds emanating from the other side of the room would plague Shinya for as long as he lived. A shaking breath, weak at first, and then seizing; soft tissue being handled roughly; a steady trickle of liquid flowing into a lethal, unstoppable cascade; and the tiny gurgles of an innocent child choking on his own blood, or what would have been left of it.
Through all of that, the only thing Shinya could focus on in his total inability to save the one thing he cherished was the garbled last words of Yuu before he heard a dull thump on soaked wood:
“…p…pa…a…”
The breath in Shinya’s chest froze as icy terror flooded his lungs. With the strength equal to only a human overdosing on adrenaline in a fight or flight response, the man rammed himself against the wooden door until the frame split and the hinges snapped out of the wall. The force of his heaving shoved the chair locked under the doorknob away, and then the door came crashing to the floor with Shinya lying on top of it, who was in too much pain from broken bones and dislocated joints to mentally prepare himself for the sheer gore in front of him.
There was so much blood. Too much blood. Far too much for an eight-year-old boy to lose and still hope to recover.
When Shinya finally lifted his head from the splintered wood underneath him, his gaze met the dull and glassy ones of his child.
His child.
Despite the stabbing pain in his shoulder, the silver-haired man still pushed himself up and crawled over to the rapidly cooling corpse of Yuu and cradled the small and bloody body to his chest. Muttering incoherently to the deaf body, Shinya felt tears spill out of his eyes and fall down his cheeks in thick waves. “No no no,” his breath hitched in a hiccup as Shinya struggled to speak, begging to the stars above that Yuu might still be able to hear him before he left this world for good. “It’s okay baby it’s okay, papa is here now, you’ll be okay–” He paid no mind to the blood pooling in his sweater and staining his pants, to the lack of warmth he only felt from Yuu some twenty minutes earlier, or to the way his baby’s body was so limp and frightfully pale in his arms.
A soft creak on the other side of the room had Shinya’s head snapping to glare hotter than all the fires in hell at the one responsible.
Guren stood with a blank expression in the corner of Shinya’s bedroom, just in front of the shattered window, soaked to the bone in his child’s innocent blood that which now stained his fingers and coated the edges of his lips. The once pristine white button-down was splattered in crimson red–the red of lost life and tainted dreams.
Everything seemed to shut off in Shinya’s brain. All feeling, all emotion, all rationality was gone. Only the searing heat of anger and revenge coated his insides and filled his body with the overwhelming fury of a parent who lost a child.
Mechanically, Shinya gently set down Yuu’s broken body and slowly stood to his feet, gritting all the way through the pain still throbbing in his shoulder and collarbone. Bracing himself against the burning injuries, the man bit out, “How could you.”
A flicker of satisfaction crossed through the man when Guren visibly flinched against the ferocity of his tone, but he did not back away.
“How could you!” The emotional and physical agony in Shinya’s voice dripped like molten lava, hot and raw and unending in its depth. Without his knowledge, the man’s eyes watered once more and spilled fresh tears down his face and stained the edges of his shirt when they dropped from his chin. Shinya was physically trembling now with barely restrained fury–born of betrayal–and despair–born of loss.
Hesitantly, Guren said, “I had to-”
“HE WAS ONLY A CHILD AND YOU TOOK HIM AWAY FROM ME!”
Angered by Shinya’s refusal to concede, Guren’s blank expression fell into a harsh furrow of his eyebrows, the savage glint in his odious eyes sending vile, vile shivers throughout Shinya’s arms and legs as the vampire’s mouth bared its fangs. He truly resembled the monster he made himself out to be that evening.
A furious, miserable sob burst through Shinya’s chest as he outstretched his broken arm to call upon his demon gun.
“You talk about how I left you, yet you bring some lowly guinea pig into my house to replace me,” he snarled, letting the full weight of his contempt settle into his voice. It was obvious that he burned with an indescribable feeling of resentment for no longer being the light of his former lover’s life–that there was something else more deserving than him to receive any of Shinya’s love.
It infuriated him. More than anything he’s ever experienced: more than losing his humanity, losing his emotions, losing his happiness, losing his future.
“You could have prevented this–”
Cutting Guren off with an enraged roar, Shinya took aim at Guren’s body, lining the barrel of his demon weapon with the space between the vampire’s eyes before firing. Whether he was truly trying to kill him or not didn’t matter–he was distraught. He wanted to reverse the last three minutes and save his child. He wanted to stop having his shortfalls return to smack him in the face.
You could have prevented this. You could have prevented Guren leaving you. You could have prevented Yuu being ruthlessly killed in the home he was told again and again was the safest place in the world. You could have prevented finding yourself alone, yet again.
The vampire, on instinct, danced out of each bullet’s path, a blurred image of white and red to Shinya’s tearful eyes. Each pass of a bullet into the hard concrete of the wall set a billow of dust into the air, adding to the pure strain of the difficulty of keeping himself composed.
“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” The silver-haired man screeched, firing blindly against the back wall of the bedroom.
“For all those years, what did that insignificant little rat give you that I couldn’t?!”
“He gave me a new reason to live! I lost that after you disappeared!” Another shot left the gun and implanted itself in the wall just a hair’s breadth away from Guren’s neck. In any other situation Shinya would have been able to precisely take off his head in one clean shot, but he was far too burdened with hatred and grief to think clearly. And perhaps on some level, there was still hesitation to end the life of his former lover.
It was still Guren.
No its not, not anymore.
That monster is not the man you once knew.
Through the flurry of hot tears still streaming from his eyes, Shinya spat out, “I trusted you.”
A soft expression overtook Guren’s face at Shinya’s pained words. “Shin-”
“I TRUSTED YOU!” Taking the dark-haired man completely by surprise, Shinya fired another round of shots to sink directly into the man’s shoulder.
Grunting in pain, Guren clasped his shoulder and became distracted with his injury just long enough for Shinya to find an opening and sprint with the bayonet end of his rifle pointed at his undead chest.
The sound of sharp steal tearing through cold muscle and tissue should have been satisfying, but it became only white noise in Shinya’s ears. Demonstrating no further hesitation on his part, he drove the two of them back with the momentum of his thrust and pushed Guren out the broken window, dragging Shinya himself with him down two stories.
The momentum flowed to a snail’s trickle as time halted around them. In the air, glass shards looked like the softest rain drops encasing a pair dancing together, suspended in moonlight and darkness. The blade of the bayonet wedged itself to the hilt in Guren’s chest, and his eyes widened fractionally as he felt the resistance of a solid structure give out to force. Above him–through his distorted vision–he watched as Shinya use the last of his strength to give one final shove, releasing the body of the gun to adjust his open position in their dual fall.
Shinya’s eyes, shimmering in a haunting blue that hardened with a wrath the vampire never thought he would live to see, locked with Guren’s as he hissed one final word before gravity took its toll on his fragile human body and the speed of time resumed:
“Suffer.”
The next instant filled the silence of the night with a tremendous thud as two bodies hit the ground, both stiff and immobile. After several seconds, Guren painfully brought himself to sit up, gritting his teeth at the two large wounds in his shoulder and chest. Snapping his head towards the body adjacent to him, he snarled bitterly, “You idiot–!”
But there was no sound from the other man. No movement in his limp limbs, no rush of blood through his veins, no soft breathing through his chest.
Nothing.
Guren stared at the body of the man lying in the cold grass next to him, whose rifle was broken into several parts scattered around them from the impact of their fall. His depthless eyes scanned the area around them to find glass shards protruding from his skin and mirrored against Shinya’s arms and legs, before the smell of fresh blood and the sound of a faltering heart pervaded his hearing.
There, not even a metre away, lay Shinya with an unreadable expression on his face–eyes closed in a serenity that would have warmed the undying flesh underneath the vampire’s skin were it not for the gush of blood seeping through his former lover’s hair and down his face; while his skin glowed beautifully under the moonlight–surrounded by the glimmering reflections given off by the innumerable pieces of glass littering the yard–Guren knew that colour was fast fading and growing duller by the second as the beating of the human’s heart spasmed uncontrollably against his crushed ribs.
The neck he remembered kissing in affection over and over again back when he was human was contorted in a way that only screamed of immediate demise.
And he continued to stare wordlessly as the reality of what just occurred sunk into him, fighting to not accept the truth that his plan to have himself selfishly killed backfired worse than he could have ever imagined. The smell of blood grew stronger as the dull thudding of Shinya’s heart tapered off into its final pulses.
A silence befell the countryside for a moment before it was punctured by a horrified scream bursting with inconceivable guilt, guttural and agonized.
Maybe the proper reaction came only after realizing the conduit through which he’d be able to achieve his goal of escape was currently dead on the ground next to him with a broken neck and a broken heart; maybe the guilt singeing into the depths of his conscience from having stalked the happy family for years on end was finally catching up to him.
Harming the child out of pure spite for simply existing as a vessel of replacement was definitely among his priorities, that much he gleefully admitted to. The well-being of the little rat that stole his lover’s attention manifested into a jealousy he couldn’t contain, and Guren came to the ultimatum that if he couldn’t be blessed with spending the rest of his life happily with Shinya, then no one could.
Yet he didn’t expect Shinya would end up dead.
It was not supposed to end like this.
It was supposed to end with Guren finally being released from ceaseless pain and suffering. He was supposed to be released from the strict grip the thirst for blood had on his dead body, which became the foremost drive of his very being to kill in order to live. He was supposed to be released from the knowledge that his body would no longer provide warmth to the one person he loved more than life itself.
And what had that brought him?
Lost in thought, Guren reflected on earlier when he finally made the decision to approach the little house in the woods and knock on the front door that he had so often just barged into like a barbarian, much to Shinya’s complaint time and time again. He fully expected Shinya to reject his mere presence and hopefully strike him down on the spot with little question, but the worst happened, and Shinya shed tears for him and invited him into the house. He offered to help him and fix a problem that could not be fixed.
A sinking feeling overtook Guren’s posture with the knowledge that Shinya had no intention of turning him away, and most likely expected Guren could fit into the family he created like nothing was wrong with the picture of a dead man walking amongst the living.
Maybe we could have been a family again.
Guren hadn’t shed tears since the night he was turned all those years ago, but now they freely slipped down his cheeks. He was so focused on ending his life for the monster he had become, that he didn’t even considered the idea that he could still be with Shinya, for at least however long they both had together.
Obviously it was too late for that now, since both halves of his potential family lay in pools of their own blood with inanimate hearts and cold skin.
Blood spilt because of his own self-centred ideology and blinding jealousy.
It now made sense; what Shinya whispered earlier. “Suffer.” It meant now Guren would have to continue to suffer in this demonic afterlife, shackled to the earth with guilt for the lives he was responsible for taking, never being able to be freed for his heinous crimes.
Not a soul was left alive to forgive him for the sins he wrought. Shinya would have–he saw it in his eyes the moment he opened the door to perchance the only means of reprieve offered to him. He would have been welcomed, loved, and protected for all he was worth had his jealousy over Shinya finding happiness in the comforting familial bond with a blameless child not tinged his perspective red.
Guren shuddered, brushing the dirt and glass off his soiled clothing as he carefully crawled towards Shinya’s body. The sluggishness of grief pooled in his muscles mending themselves from injuries only he could recover from. As he shuffled across the grass on his hands and knees, ignoring the way a fresh wave of tears stung his eyes and a rueful whine bubbled in his chest, his memory supplied him with more evidence of Shinya’s enmity:
He never, not once, activated the curse that would end him.
The man he loved took to the grave years of resentment, abandonment that morphed from fallible feelings of love he thought would have persevered due to his disappearance; Shinya was killed for the immediate revenge of Guren murdering Yuu–the child he despised without reason apart from envy–and effectively killed himself for everlasting revenge against Guren for everything he’s put him through.
It was a nasty contradiction to the open heart he first encountered, so happy to see him.
Perhaps that’s where the guilt resided: he managed to corrupt a deep love into a listless figure of hatred. Guren felt his chest constrict painfully then, calling forth the damning glare in Shinya’s eyes before his head hit the ground. Tears quietly sliding along a blade of blood-soaked grass, the vampire collapsed back onto his haunches besides Shinya’s body, a shivering, pitiful noise of a man who lost everything but his life blending into the background of the night.
Doubling over to press his face into the bloodied shirt of a man who chose to escape into the void with someone other than himself, Guren released the first hysterical wail of sorrow in a line of many.
The existence he lived became a little more intolerable and a little more inescapable.
#Owari no Seraph Gift Exchange#OnS Gift Exchange#onsgiftexchange#OnS#Owari no Seraph#SotE#Seraph of the End#GurenShin#Guren Ichinose#Ichinose Guren#Shinya Hiiragi#Hiiragi Shinya#submission
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Winter Wonderland (Calum Hood Fluff)
Summary: (Y/N) is to become Mrs. Hood on Christmas day but has to spend Christmas Eve away from Calum.
There is a makeout session in this chapter and a bit of suggestive content.
Connected to "Dance Lessons" with Michael.
(Request) (Words: 4k) (Part 2: Santa Baby, Part 3 )
"Good morning, Mrs. Hood." Calum says in his groggy morning voice as I stretch on our bed.
"I am not Mrs. Hood yet, Mr. Hood." I reply and turn my head to face him.
"Well, starting from tomorrow, you will be, so better get used to it... Mrs. Hood." He says and pecks on my temple.
"Whatever you say, hubby..." I whisper, standing up from the bed.
"Where do you think you are going?" Calum asks me, rubbing his face.
"I need to get ready. (Y/B/F/N) is picking me up in an hour." I reply, slipping my romp on.
"In an hour... We have time until then, babygirl." He tries to convince me to stay in our bed longer.
"Not really. I have to pack my stuff for today and tomorrow..."
"I hate that I won't see you for so long." He groans and I chuckle.
"We've been apart for longer... Remember that every time you are on tour we don't see each other for weeks? Months maybe?" I ask, turning to look at him before I exit the bedroom.
Walking to my closet, I hear Calum singing as he gets ready for the day, reminding me exactly the reason why I am marrying him.
I change my direction and walk into the bathroom, smiling at the reflection of my boyfriend as he brushes his teeth. I hug him from behind, my hand resting on his chest and my head leaning on his back.
"What is it, princess?" He asks me after he spits out his toothpaste.
"Nothing." I sigh and leave a soft kiss on his back. He takes my hand in his, spinning me around to face me.
"I love you too..." He smiles at me.
"I didn't say I love you..." I state, cocking an eyebrow.
"Well, I pretty much can read your mind...."
"Oh, you can, huh?" I chuckle.
"Yeah, I can. I bet I can tell what you are thinking about right now." He murmurs, stroking my cheek.
"Oh yeah? What am I thinking about right now?" I ask, licking my lips.
"You are thinking about how badly you wanna kiss me. How badly you want to feel my lips on yours, and then on your skin. And how badly you want to just go to bed and have me instead of spending one and a half days away from me..." He replies, pressing his body against mine. I gulp thickly, feeling every hair on my body stand straight; it's true... I would much rather stay with Calum and drive to the venue with him on our wedding day. But I guess the stupid tradition of him not seeing me the day before the wedding and my bachelorette party will keep us apart.
"Well, you are not wrong. I was thinking of kissing you." I whisper, resting my hand on his chest. I watch him smirk down at me, licking his lips seductively.
"But now that you know my plans, there is no reason to execute them." I move away from him, making him groan in frustration.
"Come on..." He growls, walking behind me. He grips on my wrist, pulling me to his body as I giggle.
"I think you owe me a kiss." He says softly, tangling his fingers in mine.
"I have it scheduled for Christmas Day, at around 7:30 in the evening. I think that's when the officiator will call us husband and wife." I tease him.
"We need to rehearse it. I mean, we had a dinner rehearsal and a dance rehearsal and a playlist run through. And don't get me started on clothes fitting and try-ons. I think we should have a kissing rehearsal as well." He comments, bringing his hands to my lower back, resting them on the curve above my ass.
"Well, after the arguments you presented, I think that a kissing rehearsal would be beneficial for both parties." I reply, earning a chuckle from him.
"I love it when you talk business to me." He whispers before he leans down to kiss me.
I part my lips, letting his tongue slip in my mouth as he pulls me on his body, leaving not an inch between us.
"I am going to miss that." He murmurs against my lips. I pull him back to the kiss by gripping his hair lightly.
He bites on my bottom lip, making me melt into a puddle. I feel my chest on fire, the need for this to move forward coiling deep in my stomach.
"We have a bit of time." I mumble as we part to catch our breath. He looks at me with his eyes glistening as his hands support my ass while he picks me up and carries me to our bedroom.
"Last time we are having sex as just a couple." I comment and he hums as he undoes the tie on my romp.
"Next time I am going to fuck my wife." He whispers before he leans down to kiss my neck.
The words make my heart speed up, warmth spreading throughout my body.
"But we have to be quick. (Y/B/F/N) is picking me up, remember?" I shudder as his lips touch my soft spot.
"Yeah, I know." He mumbles, spreading my thighs and placing himself between them.
I pull his head up for a kiss, tasting him one more time. His hand goes to my hair too, pulling at me locks as he presses his cock on my sex.
He grinds his cock on me, making my breathing more labored, sharper. He drives me absolutely insane, to the point where my body responds to his slightest touch.
I feel his hand reach between our bodies, trying to lower his briefs and pull my panties to the side.
But the doorbell ringing stops us, making both of us groan in unison.
"I have second thoughts on (Y/B/F/N) being your best gal for our wedding." Calum giggles, rubbing his hand over his face.
"I'd be lying if I said I am not having them as well right now." I giggle as well but kiss his lips as I sit up.
"I can't believe I will have to go on with blue balls until our wedding night." Calum groans, plopping on the bed, fixing his briefs before he bounces back up.
"I think that there are enough videos on the web to help you get rid of that." I joke, tying my belt around my waist to hold my romp together.
"It's not the same, and you know it." Calum groans, following right behind me.
"Not much I can do to help. But, I think that you'd like to know that my white lingerie, the ones that I will be wearing after our wedding party, will leave near to nothing to the imagination." I state, winking at him.
"Damn it, woman! How is this supposed to help me?" He hisses through gritted teeth.
"Oh, it is not supposed to help you. It is supposed to make it hard for you to concentrate and fun for me to watch you be in complete agony until the second I will leave this house." I smirk, jogging down the stairs to let my best friend in.
"So, are you ready for your last night as a single lady?" (Y/B/F/N) asks me as I fix my earrings in the mirror in front of me.
"Weirdly, yes. I can't wait for this night to get over and just skip to saying yes to marrying my man." I turn around to tell her face to face. She smiles at me, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
"No jitters, no nervousness?" She asks me and I shake my head no.
"I know that if any people are meant to do 'forever', is me and Calum. I mean, if you just think how badly he had to chase me at the beginning of our relationship, how stubborn I was, telling him no after no..."
"Until he burst into your office and demanded a meeting with you. I remember that..."
"And he ordered freaking Korean food for the meeting. I had nothing to right on the reason for the meeting report." I giggle, sitting on her bed.
"And he got you. And you stayed with him, in spite of everything. And now you are getting fucking married." She cheers, almost jumping on the bed.
"And now I am getting fucking married to the love of my fucking life." I scream, feeling the warmth I always get when I am talking about him.
"Let's go celebrate that." She gets up, holding her hand out for me to take and get off the bed.
(Calum's POV)
"I hate how empty the house feels." I groan, bringing the throw cushion to my face.
"Thanks... I am happy to be here too." Ashton says, the irony present in his voice.
"I didn't mean that exactly... I meant that without (Y/N), the house feels empty."
"Can you stop groaning and huffing? You are getting married tomorrow. She is away from you to have her party. After tomorrow she will be yours forever... Jesus..." Ashton groans, handing me my glass of whiskey.
"She could have had her party the day I had mine. That way we would be spending Christmas Eve together." I whine and he huffs frustrated.
"You are such a baby. I honestly don't know why (Y/N) is marrying you."
"I am good at sex and I am her biggest fan, easy. If you follow my recipe, maybe you'll get a wife too." I tease him, taking a swig from my drink.
"You are such a savage when you are missing (Y/N)." Ashton comments before he takes a swig from his drink.
Before I can respond to his snarky comment, my phone rings, making me leave my glass on the coffee table and reach for it.
I see her name and her picture on my screen, sparking joy inside me and painting a wide smile on my face.
"If you say a single word right now, I will fucking cut your head off and kick it around like a damn ball." I threaten Ashton, whose eyes go wide.
"Hey, sunshine. Miss me already?" I say as I accept the call. I hear her hum happily before anything, plastering the smile on my face permanently.
"You have no idea how much." She says. Faintly, I hear the music from the place they are.
"So much that you are out dancing?" I tease her and she chuckles.
"Oh, you know. The girls just took me to a strip show."
"Strip show? I hope you won't leave me for a stripper." I laugh, but the sudden tightness in my stomach reminds me that it is a real insecurity.
"Actually, I prefer a lap dance from you than from anyone in here."
"And that will be my wedding gift for you." I giggle.
"I wasn't lying before, I really miss you. And I am actually counting the minutes to see you again." She says in her sweet voice, the voice that is able to make me do whatever she wants.
"Just the minutes? I am counting the seconds to see you again. I am counting the seconds until you become Mrs. Hood." I state, earning a chuckle from Ashton. I throw him a glare and one of the cushions next to me.
"I love you. And I can't wait to marry you." She giggles.
"I love you too, sunshine. I can't wait to hold my wife again. But, I want you to have fun now, ok? Just promise me you will be walking down the aisle tomorrow at 7."
"If you promise to be waiting for me."
"Well, if it wasn't for Ashton keeping me home, which by the way is so empty without you, I would be camping outside the venue just to make sure I would be there on time." I half-joke.
"You need your beauty sleep. And camping would be a little hard on Christmas Eve. I mean, it is fucking cold right now." She giggles.
"I'll get my beauty sleep. And you will rest, ok? I love you, bub." I coo.
"I love you too. Good night." She sings, blowing a kiss at the end of the sentence.
(Next morning/ Y/N's POV)
After the night out with my friends, I could barely sleep for 3 hours. The moment I opened my eyes it hit me; it's Christmas. Ever since I was a child I loved Christmas. I loved the energy, the love in the air, the decorations. I thought that nothing could make Christmas more magical. And I was wrong. Everything good happens to me on Christmas; Calum asked me to move in with him on our first Christmas together, asked me to marry him on our third. And now on our fourth Christmas together I will get to walk down the aisle and marry the hell out of him.
I stare at the ring decorating my finger for a moment. It has become a symbol of commitment for us, an instant reminder that he and I are together on this life, on this relationship. It's more of how I have connected it with Calum and less of the fact that the ring probably cost a small fortune. But if I was to marry him with a cord around my finger, in a crappy town hall, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I would still consider myself the luckiest of lucky women.
I smile as I push myself out of the guest room's bed in my best friend's house and shuffle my feet on the cold floor. I feel like dancing, twirling around, and singing out loud, but I am pretty sure my friend would kick me for that.
I make my way to the kitchen, feeling strange as I hear sounds going on in the kitchen.
"Hey!" I am greeted by Luke, who is trying to make breakfast.
"Hey! Merry Christmas." I cheer and approach him to kiss him.
"How did the bride sleep?" He asks, pointing to the coffee pot on the table.
"For 3 hours, with difficulty because your best friend was not there to hold her." I reply, pouring some coffee into a mug.
"I swear, you two are acting like babies." Luke chuckles.
"You asked how I slept, and I answered." I reply with a shrug.
"What time are you supposed to start getting ready? You know, for your wedding. We really don't want you to be late, Cal will be insufferable. In fact, if you could show up before Calum, it would be great." He says, making me smile.
"I'll have breakfast and slip right in the shower. And then I will have everyone over to torture me until I look like a 'princess' for my 'big day'." I sigh, just at the thought of people pulling and twisting and touching my hair while others touch my face.
"Aren't you excited to get ready for the wedding?"Luke asks me in shock.
"More than I've ever been. I just... I would like to do it my way, do my own hair, and my own makeup and just have fun with it. It would mean something that way." I sigh and Luke hums.
"Pay the hairdresser and the makeup artist, and tell them to leave. Problem solved." He replies and I chuckle.
"Wish it was that easy. Anyway... You are going to see Calum in a bit, right?" I ask and he nods.
"Can you tell him that I love him?" I ask again and he sighs.
"I think he already knows." Luke replies with a chuckle.
"Is it so hard to tell him?" I ask, rolling my eyes.
"Whatever the bride wants." Luke surrenders.
From the moment I slipped into the shower, to the moment I slipped into my wedding dress, I went through a sea of emotions. I sat still and waited until everyone was over taking care of me, thinking about the moment I will get to kiss my husband.
"Look at you..." My best friend comments as she enters the room I am waiting until I walk down the aisle.
"I look good, huh?" I ask as I fix my vail.
"You look like a Snow Queen. Calum will lose his mind." She gasps, bringing her hands to her mouth.
"Is everything ready out there?" I ask, taking deep breaths.
"I just checked the ceremonial place and the reception haul, and they look spotless." She assures me.
"Calum's ready?" I ask, huffing.
"He looks like a model ready for a runway. And in any minute, he is going to grab the perfect bouquet you two have picked, and he is going to walk to his spot, and wait for you." She smiles at me. I nod my head, feeling my stomach settle for the first time today.
"You look perfect. Enjoy this day, ok?" She leans in, pecking on my forehead.
"Thank you. For everything." I sniffle, trying to avoid tearing up and messing with my makeup.
"You are welcome. I'd better get going. See you in a bit, Mrs. Hood." She sings as she exits the chamber.
The music plays as my dad and I walk the first few feet towards the altar. I am smiling as I look at the people around me before my eyes land on Calum. He looks like he is barely holding his lips from ripping apart from all the smiling. I feel my eyes tear up as I approach him, suddenly feeling everything becoming too real.
My dad gives me away to Calum, smiling at both of us and blowing us a kiss as he walks away.
"Hi." I giggle as I look at Calum.
"Man, I can't wait to kiss you." He whispers, handing me my bouquet.
"Friends, family, loved ones. We were gathered here today to honor love, the love of these two amazing young people. And what better way for these two people to make their love official than getting married on Christmas day. Because above all, marriage is love. Marriage is a commitment to one another, marriage is joy, marriage is patience and understanding. Marriage is reconciliation after a fight, knowing that the person you chose to love for the rest of your life will always choose to see the best in you. Marriage is everything and more. It is my greatest joy to let Calum and (Y/N) exchange their vows now." The minister finishes, prompting Calum to start talking. I watch him take a breath, reaching to take my hands in his.
"My dearest, no words will ever describe how I feel right now. I can't remember how life was before I met you. I can't remember how it was living alone and coming to an empty house. I can't remember how it was sleeping on a bed alone, without your hair in my mouth. I can't remember how it was like not being in love with you. And I hope I never get to remember. I am in utter, absolute love with you; with your mind, with the way you view things, with your soul. You came into my hectic, scary life and chose to stay, no matter how hard it got. And being with you, loving you, was like getting into a little safe space, in a space where no one and nothing could touch us. You make me calm and keep me safe and sane. I love you. And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." Calum says, his voice getting raspy at the end. I can't help but tear up a little- ok, a lot. He reaches to pick up the rings from Ashton, slipping mine on my finger. I pick up his and feel my heart flutter in my chest.
"It has been, and always will be the greatest privilege to start my day by your side. I know that no matter how hard my day has been, I will get home to a loving person and one of the warmest hugs. I don't have many regrets in life, but one of the things I wish I could change is making it hard for you to get me out for a date. I wish I would have said yes from the first time you asked me out because that would mean I would get to spend more days with you. I feel like I am the luckiest person in the world, just because I get to see you in every aspect of your day; I get to see you sleep, wake up, do what you love. I get to see you smiling, sometimes I cause that smile. I get to see you being sensitive and vulnerable. I get to see you read and get lost in your little world. I get to pick up your mind on everything, big or small. I get to be by your side. With you, I can see my future vividly, and it is more bright than I could ever possibly imagine. When you suggested we get married today, I fell more in love with you than anyone has ever fallen for another person. You took my favorite day, my absolute favorite holiday and you made it 10 times more special. I love you, Calum Thomas Hood, for everything you are, for everything you stand for, and for everything you hope to ever reach. I can't wait to be called your wife." I choke on my words, feeling that every word that leaves my mouth is truly labored by my soul. I slip his ring on his finger, watching him smile at me.
"Do you, Calum, take (Y/N), as your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish for better or for worse?" He asks Calum who smiles even bigger now.
"I do." He states.
"Do you, (Y/N), take Calum, as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and cherish for better or for worse?" He asks me.
"I do." I reply, without even having to process the question.
"With the power provided to me by the United States of America, I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." The officiator announces; before he could finish his sentence, Calum is cupping my face and his lips are on mine, making our guests erupt in screams of excitement.
"Mrs. Hood..." I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and find my husband smirking at me, opening his arms for me. I hug him after I excuse myself from the guests I was talking to; honestly, I was looking for a way out of talking to them.
"Hi, Mr. Hood." I whisper and he chuckles.
"Have I told you how gorgeous you are?" He asks me, making me giggle.
"Once or twice..." I tease him, earning a hum.
"You are absolutely stunning. I can't take my eyes off you. I can't believe you are my wife..." He leaves a peck on my forehead.
"I can't believe I am your wife either." I whisper back, pressing my face on his chest. He brings his hands to my lower back, keeping me close.
"How did I get you to be my wife? Really?" He sighs and strokes his thumb on my waist.
"You made me fall for you. And then you loved me as I've never been loved before. And then you gave me the sweetest life. So, I couldn't say no when you asked me to spend the rest of my life with you." I remind him and he hums happily.
"I love you." He whispers, swaying me to the rhythm of the song that is played.
"I love you." I whisper back, smiling to myself.
"Good, cause you are kinda married to me. And I want this marriage to be my one and only. So, I hope you like (Y/F/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N)-Hood, cause it is going to stay with you till death do us part." He pushes my chin up, smiling at me.
"I freaking love it." I assure him, leaning up to kiss his lips.
My Masterlist / Santa Baby / Part 3
#calum hood#calum thomas hood#calum 5sos#calum hood imagine#calum hood smut#calum hood fluff#calum hood smut imagine#calum hood fluff imagine#5sos#5sos imagine#5sos smut#5sos fluff#5sos smut imagine#5sos fluff imagine#5 seconds of summer#5 seconds of summer imagine#5 seconds of summer smut#5 seconds of summer fluff#5 seconds of summer smut imagine#5 seconds of summer fluff imagine#imagine#smut#fluff#fluff imagine#smut imagine
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100 Truths
Tagged by darling @missdaisymayrio
1. Real name: Daina
2. Nicknames: Scully, Gremlin (only Kyla can call me that)
3. Zodiac sign: Scorpio
4. Gender: Female
5. Nursery: Didn’t go to one
6. Primary school: Went to a public school, good times
7. Secondary school: Private but ended up transferring to public
8. Hair color: Green/Blue (naturally brunette)
9. Long or short: Relatively long now, had short hair for YEARS
10. Loud or quiet: Depends on my mood, usually quiet
11. Sweats or jeans: Shorts bruv
12. Phone or camera: Camera :3
13. Health freak: Not really, I have a sugar addiction what can I say
14. Drink or smoke: Engaged in drinking in the past, wasn’t my thing. Smoked marijuana once, again wasn’t my thing
15. Do you have a crush on someone: Nope
16. Political orientation: I’m not really political
17. Piercings: Ears (helix, tragus, two on either lobe, conch) and my septum!
18. Tattoos: None but hot damn do I really want some
HAVE YOU EVER [BEEN IN]:
19. Airplane: Yes! I’m not a big fan of flying though
20. Car *accident*: Almost, my friend is a shitty driver :/
21. Fist fight: Never, I’m too lazy to get into fights
FIRSTS:
22. Piercing: Ears
23. Best friend: I lost my best friend due to some drama over my ex, don’t speak that much anymore. So no, I don’t really have one.
24. Instrument: Piano, still learning though
25. Award: I’ve won awards for athletics and one for writing.
26. Crush: This one boy in my class when I was seven. I don’t remember what I liked about him though
27. Language: English
28. Big vacation: Went to the Gold Coast when I was 15, that was awesome.
LASTS:
29. Person I talked to: My mum hehe
30. Person I texted: A friend of mine about skincare crap
31. Person I watched: Idk??????
32. Food I ate: Avocado and tuna sushi :3
33. Movie I watched: The Perfection (a weird ass Netflix movie)
34. Song I listened to: Beyond The Sea - Robbie Williams
35. Thing I bought: This face oil thing my friend recommended
36. Person I hugged: My mum (I got scared after something happened earlier today)
FAVES:
37. Food: SANDWICHES!
38. Drinks: Tea and Juice mmmmmm
39. Clothing: Shorts with my long denim jacket + my flannel cap
40. Book: I’ll Give You The Sun - Jandy Nelson <3
41. Color: BLUE
42. Flower: Hibiscus
43. Music: Halsey and Conan Gray
44. Movie: The Lovely Bones
45. Subjects: English and Art!
IN THE PAST YEAR IM
47. [] Kissed in the rain
48. [X] Celebrated Halloween
49. [X] Had your heart broken
50. [] Went over the minutes on your cell phone
51. [] Someone questioned your sexual orientation
52. [] Used a weapon
53. [] Breathed fire (god I wish)
54. [] Had an abortion
55. [] Done something you’ve regretted (I don’t believe in regrets)
56. [] Broke a promise
57. [X] Kept a secret
58. [X] Pretended to be happy
59. [X] Met someone who changed your life
60. [X] Pretended to be sick
61. [] Left the country
62. [X] Tried something you normally wouldn’t like, and liked it
63. [X] Cried over the silliest thing
64. [] Ran a mile
65. [] Went to the beach
66. [] Stayed single
CURRENTLY:
67. Eating: Watermelon gum (does that count as something to eat??)
68. Drinking: Nothing
69. Getting ready to: Relax and sit on my ass
70. Listening to: Idle Town - Conan Gray
71. Plans for tomorrow/today: Did all my errands today, tomorrow I’m going out with my dad to do some thrift shopping
72. Waiting for: Dinner tbh I’m having chicken nuggets
YOUR FUTURE:
73. Want kids: Perhaps, although childbirth truly scares me. I’d rather foster kids or open a home for teens who have been kicked out.
74. Want to get married: I’d like to, just gotta get over my issues relating to commitment teehee :D
75. Careers in mind: Photographer, Voice Actor
WHICH IS BETTER ON A PERSON/PARTNER:
76. Lips or eyes: Eyes
77. Shorter or taller: Taller. I don’t have much choice, everyone is taller than me
78. Romantic or spontaneous: A nice mix of both. I’m a hopeless romantic, but some of my best memories are from spontaneous events :D
79. Nice stomach or nice arms: A R M S !!
80. Sensitive or loud: Both!
81. Hook-up or relationship: Once I’m older, a relationship! I am intrigued by hook-up culture though, I feel like that resonates with how I feel right now in life.
82. Troublemaker or hesitant: Troublemaker. C’mon mate let’s make some fun memories!
HAVE YOU EVER:
83. Lost glasses/contacts: Never had either
84. Ran away from home: Nope, thought about it though
85. Held a weapon for self defense: I have one, but luckily I’ve never had to use it
86. Killed somebody: ...depends who’s asking (jokes, I haven’t)
87. Broken someone’s heart: Yeah, it fucking sucks
88. Been arrested: Nope
DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
90. Miracles: I do sometimes.
91. Yourself: Only in certain things, I believe that I deserve more than what I have been dealt in the past, but I don’t believe in my dreams :/
92. Love at first sight: Oh fuck yeah. There’s something magical about looking across the room, seeing someone and just instantly feeling this pull towards them.
93. Heaven: I wouldn’t call it a ’heaven’ in the traditional sense, more that there must be more to the universe than this life. There has to be something beyond ourselves.
94. Santa Claus: Nope
95. Easter Bunny: Nope
96. Magic: I believe magic exists in simple ways, maybe you’ve never broken a bone or you can make the perfect cup of tea.
ANSWER TRUTHFULLY
97. Is there one person you want to be with, right now: My friends, they’re all going through a tough time at school and I wish I could help them.
98. Are you seriously happy with where you are in life: I am content, haven’t quite reached happiness yet but we’re getting there :))
99. Are you happy with the person you’re with: Single so....
100. Post as 100 truths and tag 5 people: @darling-clemmy @everlastinqg @freckledpianoman @cassierage @stay--jazzy <3 <3 <3
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