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imakemywings · 1 year

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Fandom: The Silmarillion

Characters: Maedhros, Lalwen, Fingon, Nerdanel

Summary: Maedhros considers the role of sex and romance in his life and receives support from unexpected quarters.

AN: Something for @aspecardaweek! More notes on AO3.

WC: 5,281

AO3 | Pillowfort | SWG

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Maedhros did not yet have Grandfather’s skill for keeping his face neutral. He did have his own parents’ penchant for strong emotions and so the sense of annoyance which permeated his clipped pace down the palace hall was plainly apparent. Even the swish of his robes seemed to speak to an immediate, if mild, irritation.

The heat of Valinor’s soft summer was creeping up over Tirion, which meant most of the palace was out-of-doors, except for Caranthir who was likely tucked away somewhere with a book or a preserved insect, and Maglor, who was either “composing” or languishing artfully on a pile of pillows (these were not always distinct and separate acts), and so perhaps Maedhros was less careful than he might’ve been with the usual palace audience around to provide a bevy of useless commentary. He slid open one of the side doors and slipped out onto the rail-less porch, throwing himself down on the edge with an air of petty temper.

The fresh air almost immediately took the edge off. In the lush palace gardens he could hear the call of birds and the rustle of the fresh green leaves, still tender with new growth. The lychee trees were starting to sway with the weight of fruit and the smell of the flowering plants perfumed the air. Maedhros leaned back against one of the posts supporting the eaves. Curufin and the twins were out with Atar for the day, which meant there was no childish yelling this side of the palace, though if Maedhros listened carefully, he could hear some of his youngest cousins elsewhere on the property.

“You look rather troubled, little one.” The low, smoky voice took him by surprise, partly because he was not often in conversation with his aunt, who bled out of the bushes with a idly curious look. “Who’s put this look on your face?”

“My brother,” Maedhros groused after a pause.

“That still leaves quite a few options,” said Princess Lalwen with a slanting smile, perching on the edge of the porch with one leg tucked beneath her. Her nut-brown skin was already taking on the darker hue of summertime and judging by her dress and the dearth of gems in her hair, he guessed she’d been on an early morning hiking or hunting trip.

“’tis nothing,” Maedhros demurred. No need to go airing family laundry, even if it was the relatively harmless kind. Besides, Aunt Lalwen always looked like she was searching for a secret—to what end, Maedhros couldn’t say.

“If it were nothing, you would not be troubled,” Lalwen said. Maedhros, ever the pragmatist, visibly weighed the pros and cons of sharing—and how much—with Lalwen. Truthfully, he didn’t know her well enough to make much of an estimate. She was often in Tirion, unlike Aunt Findis, but also often in the company of Uncle Fingolfin, which meant not in the company of Atar and Ammë (or their children).

“Kanafinwë is…immature, I think, at times,” said Maedhros at last. “It causes a great deal of trouble for him and for many around him.”

“Little brothers will be that way,” Lalwen said sagely, nodding. Maedhros must have looked skeptical, for then she said: “You doubt it? Arafinwë was a terrible tattle when he was little. Nothing could you tell him if you did not wish to get back to Ammë within the hour. Thank Ilúvatar he grew out of that!” A faint smile crossed her face. “And if you were inclined to ask, it is possible that Arakáno and Findis might have their own stories of me to share.” Maedhros assumed Atar went without saying.

“Kanafinwë is old enough to know better,” said Maedhros with a frown. The antics of a child were one thing—Maglor was a grown adult, if a young one. Lalwen canted her head to the side and her eyes flitted off into the vegetation. She had Fingolfin’s eyes, the same brown that turned gold with just a bit of light, framed in lashes brown where Fingolfin’s were black.

“A little brother is always a little brother with his older sibling,” she said. “At least a little bit.”

“He makes a mess of his own life and then comes to me wailing about his misfortune!” said Maedhros, remembering his annoyance anew. “He never listens to me! Why tell me these things if he refuses to take my advice?”

“What has he done now?” Lalwen asked, and still on the tide of his temper, Maedhros said:

“He does the most foolish things wherever a comely Elf is concerned and he seems to seek the chance to make a mess of things! He can never settle on one thing to want, and as soon as his desire is within his gasp, he loses all interest in it!” A more tempered Maedhros would not have shared, but he was doubly irked because Maglor had recently borrowed several of his favorite hair pins without asking, and had left one of them behind with his tryst, whom he insisted he could not speak to again to get it back. “Already he has a courting companion, yet he has been seeking the company of another!” Now he felt he had to explain the rest.

“For ages did I listen to his laments about trying to win the heart of Culuina, and at last they were courting, and finally they had stopped fighting, and now he tells me he has been seeking the attentions of someone from the actor’s guild! He tells me how this Elf has no interest in him and looks right through him as if he were not even there, and he tells it with a shine in his eyes more than when he ever talks about Culuina anymore! I told him to be happy with Culuina after he spent so long in pursuit of her, but did he listen? Of course not! And rather than end their courtship as might have been honorable, now he chases down some other, like a greedy hunter!”

After this little tirade, Maedhros fell silent, flinty gray eyes narrowed, remembering all over again why he was so cross.

“How can he complain so when he’s done this all to himself? Culuina was happy with him at last, but now he’s ruined it! I don’t understand him at all.”

Lalwen shrugged.

“You know how Kanafinwë is with a pretty face. Arakáno says he’s been that way since he was young,” she said. “How old was he when he told his music teacher he would marry him?” Lalwen smiled indulgently, but Maedhros was not willing to fondly reminisce now (for the record, Maglor had been eight).

“There’s no sense in it!” Maedhros fumed insistently. “He had what he desired! And for what does he tell me these things if he never heeds my advice?”

“Perhaps he seeks only a listening ear,” Lalwen suggested.

“Nay, for he asks my opinion!” Maedhros objected. “But then he pays it no mind!”

“What advice gave you to him?” Lalwen asked.

“That he should be content with what he has!” Maedhros’ jaw clenched. “He sought so ardently after Culuina, how can he set her aside so easily? And for one who cares not for him in the slightest? So what if he has a pretty face? Culuina does as well!”

“You seem rather indignant on her behalf,” Lalwen said with seeming amusement.

“Hardly,” said Maedhros. “I have exchanged not entirely ten words with her. But Kanafinwë is a prince of the Noldor and should behave better.” Lalwen tipped her head from side to side.

“There’s not much sense in it, is there?” she said.

“None!” Maedhros said. “He loses his head entirely about romance; it’s as though he lapses into madness! How is it that so many Elves lack any kind of sense or restraint about these things?”

Lalwen was looking at him then in a way that made Maedhros remember he did not usually speak of family matters to others (even other family). There was something appraising in her look that made him decide he had said too much already and he regretted it at once. Maglor made enough of a fool of the house without him elaborating for others.

“Forgive me though, for taking so much of your time, Aunt,” he said, lowering his head and then rising to his feet, his voice at once level and impassive again. “I should not have troubled you with such trivial matters.”

“No trouble, Nelyafinwë,” she said. “I believed I came from a big family until I saw your parents’ penchant for children.” She chuckled a little. “I cannot imagine having had six brothers! Three was quite enough for me.”

“Most often they trouble me not.” Maedhros murmured out the lie. “I should have less of a temper with him.” Another lie—he believed he had every right to be just as irritated with Maglor as he was. But he should not have shared it outside the house; it did nothing to improve their image.

“What one struggles to understand may often prove an annoyance,” Lalwen posited after a moment. Maedhros gave her a critical look, then bowed his exit and went back inside. Conversations with Lalwen had a way of making him feel he had missed something, and it was not a feeling for which he cared in the slightest.

***

“Maitimo.”

Maedhros refocused his eyes on Ammë, dredging himself up out of his thoughts.

“I did not move,” he said.

“You are making a face,” said Ammë. “Why this air of sullenness?” Falling out of his pose, Maedhros rubbed the heel of his hand between his eyes.

“’tis nothing,” he said. “I’m only tired.”

“Well, if you keep making that face, the sculpture will wear it too,” said Ammë, tapping her pencil pointedly against her sketchpad. “Oh. Sometime has it been since I saw that look.”

“No ‘look’ do I wear,” Maedhros insisted, resentful of the whining note that crept into his voice. Only Ammë could bring it out.

“There is a look,” she said. “So what is it?”

“As I said before, nothing.” Ammë flipped closed her sketchpad.

“I think we shall be done with this for today,” she said. “If you still wish to help, perhaps you can help me cut wood for the kiln.” With a sigh, Maedhros rose in acquiescence and they went out into the yard, where Ammë handed him an axe.

He was still ruminating on his conversation with Lalwen, and the sense that she had seen something in it he had failed to notice, an idea which peeved him to no end. Furthermore, it was bringing to the forefront of his memory the handful of instances in which Maglor, no doubt in an effort at brotherly camaraderie, had attempted to return the favor that Maedhros granted him in listening to his woes by asking Maedhros about his love life, a line of questioning that invariably made Maedhros both queasy and ill-tempered. If he was feeling particularly adventurous, Maglor would probe into Maedhros’ various relationships, seeking some hitherto hidden romantic intention which Maedhros insisted did not exist. Most recently, he had seized on the notion of Maedhros’ friendship with Ingwion as something that might bear fruit, a suggestion which Maedhros had been too embarrassed to even mention to Ingwion, even to have a laugh at Maglor’s efforts.

Ammë set a log down and Maedhros raised the axe. In a sense, there was something calming about the repetition of it.

Whack, whack, whack.

Maedhros hated not to understand things—it was something Grandfather had once said he shared with Atar. And what he didn’t understand now was how he could be the only one with any sense about relationships—how could everyone else be so careless and obsessed? He had even seen Curufin making eyes at other Elflings his age. When Maedhros had been Curufin’s age, the thought of romance hadn’t even entered his head! It had been as alien to him as the notion of childbirth or property taxes. Back then, he had assumed it was something that would simply come with age. Eventually, he told himself he was a late bloomer, and perhaps just needed more time to come into it than others (another idea which unsettled him—he also misliked the thought of being late to anything).

Whack, whack, whack.

Then, when he determined he must be fully matured, he theorized he simply had not met the right person yet. This made perfect sense. Maedhros was discriminating in taste about nearly everything—why should he be less particular about his romantic partners? He needed to give himself time to meet someone who could pass his standards, and then would experience one of those head-over-heels crushes which people waxed poetic about. After all, Grandfather said that Atar had had next to no interest in courtship of any kind until he met Ammë, and then everything had happened rather quickly.

Whack, whack, whack..

He supposed this theory still wasn’t disproven, but there was an uneasy feeling in his gut that he might be waiting for something which would never come. Technically, there was unlikely to be harm in this, but Maedhros did not like things unsettled. He wanted answers, cut and dry. He wanted to know where he stood. But how did one prove an absence of a thing? And what did such an absence mean?

Whack, whack, whack.

“Does this seem enough to you?” Just as Maedhros was pausing with the axe, Ammë spoke. He observed the pile of wood so far and flexed his hand against the shaft of the axe.

“Perhaps a few more,” he suggested. Ammë looked at him rather than the wood and nodded.

“Yes, I agree,” she said, and set down another log. When Maedhros had split the last of them, he felt that some of the tension in his shoulders had dissipated. He rolled them to loosen the muscles. In an uncharacteristic display of gentleness, Ammë placed a hand against the back of his head and pulled him down until she could press a fleeting kiss to his copper crown.

“This will do finely, Maitimo.” She slapped his shoulder as she drew back. “Now go on, I do not believe you shall be any more help to me today, and as I recall, you have your own work which needs doing.”

Maedhros groaned. He really had been overthinking all this if he’d forgotten, even for a moment, about that blasted essay.

***

“Yes, this is much better,” said Professor Lastarion while Maedhros intermittently held his breath as part of an effort not to fidget while sitting in front of the professor’s desk. “You have still some gaps in logic here, but this is much better.” His eyes flicked up to Maedhros’ face. “They are small, but closing them will make for the neatest possible paper. This is quite good on its own, but I will insist you see to these before the compendium’s publication.”

Having his work published would more than make up for all the effort that had gone into it, including the many late nights he had spent working by candlelight. It was something he had yearned for since his first works had gone into the student publication during his years as a pupil of the university. He had been pleased with those then, but now, to be published as an adult scholar—!

“Leading a reader through your argument is like…”

Leading a horse, Maedhros finished silently to himself.

“…leading a horse,” Lastarion finished aloud. “The slightest hole might result in a snapped ankle.” This was where the metaphor tended to fall apart for Maedhros. “You want to take your readers in an unbroken chain from point A to B to C to D…” He waved his hand in a flowing gesture. Maedhros nodded tensely, waiting for any more concrete feedback.

“It’s quite well-reasoned as a whole,” Lastarion went on. “In fact,” he said, meeting Maedhros’ eyes directly, “I believe it will be the centerpiece of the volume.”

“Thank you, professor,” said Maedhros breathlessly, feeling his heart stop for a moment.

“It has the possibility to be truly remarkable, which is why I have nitpicked so many things on it,” he said. “With a few fine-tuning touches, it will be the jewel in the crown, so to speak.” He passed the paper over to Maedhros. “Have a look at my notes. Connect these last few gaps and you will have a final product to be quite proud of, Nelyafinwë.”

“Thank you,” he said again, taking the paper, his heart jumping as if he had run up a flight of stairs. “I will see to it immediately.”

It wasn’t until he was out of the professor’s office that he let the grin spread across his face. Published! There would be something to talk about at the next party!

***

The summer sun was just edging towards too warm against Fingon’s exposed arms and legs as he lay back in the golden grass, tossing his ball up and down. He kept his eyes closed so as not to be dazzled by the brightness of the sky, but he was so familiar with the weight and fall of the ball he did not need to see it to catch it each time it came back down towards him. The thrust and fall of it was relaxing; the repetitive flexing and bunching of his well-trained muscles lulled him into calm. There was a faint breeze rustling the grass, which occasionally blew over him and swept away the worst of the heat, keeping him comfortable. Overhead, birds caroused, wheeling this way and that, occasionally dashing across the tendrils of wispy clouds that were all that marred Valinor’s skies that day. It was entirely peaceful and Fingon let out a deep breath of contentment.

Ah, but Maedhros was still talking.

“Well?” he was saying, and Fingon realized he had let slip by a crucial moment to interject with a sympathetic or disapproving noise (whichever was most appropriate) and now was being asked a question. “Am I wrong?”

He caught his pigskin ball and opened his eyes, turning to look at Maedhros’ pale, vexed face.

“Well of course you’re right,” he said. “If Makalaurë listened to you, he wouldn’t be in half as much trouble.” When he had missed a cue, it was always good to fall back on “you’re right.” That usually calmed Maedhros down.

“I told him this would happen,” he griped, and Fingon debated whether he could inquire into what “this” was without revealing that he didn’t already know.

“You know Makalaurë,” he said with a somewhat indulgent smile. “Foresight is not his gift.”

“Foresight! I would gladly settle for common sense!” He snorted. “The way this city gossips—and he thought Culuina wouldn’t find out about Eteminion?”

“Well…” Fingon began, then trailed off, not sure if Maedhros would appreciate his speculating on the less-than-admirable behavior of his brother.

“Well what?” But Maedhros would not let a thought go unsaid once it had been hinted at.

“Perhaps he wished for her to know.”

“Wished!” Maedhros exclaimed. “Why would he wish for her to know he had been unfaithful to her?” Fingon shrugged.

“Perhaps he wanted their courtship to end and knew that she would do it herself if she knew,” he said. “Or perhaps he wanted her attention.”

“He was courting her,” Maedhros said. “In what way did he not already have her attention?” Fingon shrugged and started tossing his ball again. “Do share your thoughts, Findekáno,” said Maedhros, and Fingon could hear the annoyance in his voice. A smile twitched on Fingon’s lips.

“Perhaps Makalaurë enjoys the turbulence of his relationships,” he said. “Perhaps he thought if he riled Culuina this way, it would inspire her to passion.” Maedhros was looking at him like he had just suggested they test whether the Children of Ilúvatar had the power of flight, an expression at which Fingon couldn’t help but laugh as he sat upright.

“Passionate in her anger with him, perhaps,” Maedhros said. Fingon shrugged. Anger was passion, of a sort. “For what could he ever want such a thing? I think you have been laying in the sun too long.” Fingon laughed again.

“Is it so hard to understand?” he said. “Never have you wished to make another jealous to prove their affection for you?”

“Never!” said Maedhros, looking perfectly appalled. “Have you?”

“Once or twice,” said Fingon, shrugging one shoulder. “Never have I done it thought—it is rather immature, is it not? Although for Eteminion?” He grinned. “He would be worth the effort! Have you seen him on stage? There is an Elf who knows passion!” Maedhros was still looking at him like he’d gone crazy. “No? You find him not attractive?” he said.

“I never thought about it,” said Maedhros. “I do not watch plays to drool over the actors.”

“Are you accusing me of drooling, Russandol!” Fingon laughed. “One can appreciate both the art and also the bodies behind it!” Maedhros’ look had gone sulky, the way it did when they spoke overlong of issues concerning romance. “Perhaps you and Makalaurë simply cannot see eye-to-eye on this,” he suggested.

“I think perhaps we cannot,” said Maedhros quietly, picking at the grass. “It makes no sense to me, Findekáno, not even when you speak of it.”

“What doesn’t?”

“The way people behave when they find another attractive,” said Maedhros. “How do they manage to lose all sense of reason?”

“That is nature of love and sex,” said Fingon with a little smile. “It renders one a little insane…but that isn’t always bad. One may enjoy a touch of madness.” Maedhros was just looking at him, indirectly, still tearing at bits of grass.

“It makes no sense to me,” he repeated, softer still.

It took Fingon a moment to gather that perhaps Maedhros was trying to tell him something. (He was not always very good at picking up on these things, which Turgon had told him.) Sobering, he folded his legs, setting his ball in the space between.

“You know,” he observed after a pause, “I believe Auntie Irimë is that way.”

“What way?”

“I mean, that she agrees with you. She is unwed,” said Fingon. “And I have never known her to express a desire for it.”

“Aunt Findis is unwed also,” said Maedhros.

Fingon shrugged.

“Auntie Findis has always been a bit aloof, has she not?” Maedhros was shredding a long blade of grass between his fingers, a furrow between his eyebrows. Aunt Findis also spent a great deal of time out of Tirion, and was not in general inclined to discuss such things around her nieces and nephews, which made it harder to guess at her stance.

“Russandol,” said Fingon, and when Maedhros was looking at him, he pitched the leather ball right at Maedhros’ face. His nose was spared the unfortunate content by his quick reflexes, and then he glared in a way that would have made their cousins cower (it was rather reminiscent of Uncle Fëanor).

“What was that for?” he demanded.

“You are thinking no longer about your problem, are you?” said Fingon cheerfully. “You’re welcome!” The ball clocked Fingon in the head right before Maedhros tackled him.

***

It pleased the king to host, as frequently as he could, large dinners for the entire extended family. Atar always insisted they were there, to a man, and there was little that could excuse one from the event—academic demands were about the only thing. Grandfather Finwë would throw a celebratory dinner for nearly anything—Princess Findis visiting from Valmar or the start of a new season or a grandchild getting a particularly good grade or Atar finishing a new project—but often he hosted them for no reason at all. That night’s dinner was one of that sort.

The dining hall was bedecked in lanterns alongside the lamps of Atar’s design and the seats around the table had been cleared to allow family and guests to take food and wander at will. Maedhros and his brothers, as always, were dressed to the nines, as Atar would not tolerate them arriving at any event of his father’s smirched in soot or dirt, or dressed unsuitably. The particular headpiece Maedhros had chosen for that night demanded he move with stately grace, or it was going to fall off his head and with the weight of it, probably take out someone’s foot in the process. (It did look very fine though, and he had spent several minutes in front of his mirror admiring the effect.)

Choosing the right time to approach Lalwen meant not accosting her as soon as they arrived, while ensuring she wasn’t able to slip off before Maedhros got to speak with her. It would need to look natural—he was not interested in anyone else thinking he had cause to seek out his aunt. For a few moments he lingered around the wine with Maglor, to reassure him that there was nothing amiss between then despite Maedhros’ earlier annoyance. Maglor was then distracted by one of his many musical rivals and disappeared to go boast under the guise of conversation.

When Maedhros did approach Lalwen at the table, he didn’t get his greeting past his lips before she said: “You took your time.” Then she turned to look at him, seeming amused with his expression. “I will give your subtlety is much improved on that of your brothers, but your eyes have been burning a hole in me since you arrived, Nelyafinwë.”

“You knew,” he said, deciding Lalwen did not need a lead-in. Lalwen shrugged.

“I theorized,” she said.

“But you said nothing of it. Why?” Lalwen added a few more dumplings to her plate and considered.

“You seem to me rather reserved,” she said. “And we have not spoken much. I did not think you would appreciate my theorizing, nor take it to heart. Some conclusions we must reach on our own, in our own time.” Maedhros was somewhat troubled that she had gathered so much about him despite the brevity and infrequency of their interactions.

“And are you?”

“I am,” she said, flicking her eyes up to him.

“How did you know?” She shrugged.

“It is harder to see a lack of a thing, but at some point, it becomes apparent. Anyway, it is not as uncommon as you might think. It is simply not spoken of.”

“And…Aunt Findis is…?” Lalwen let out a burst of laughter.

“Findis? No, not her. She’s only excessively particular—about what is she not particular—and will take only women as long-term partners.”

“Does…do people…know?” he asked.

“About me?” she asked. “Some do. Some may have guessed by now. My siblings know. But,” she added abruptly, holding up a finger, “that was by my choice only. Such things are private, and no one has a right to know what you do not wish to tell. This you should bear in mind, Nelyafinwë. To none do you owe answers or explanations about this. If I may offer counsel, as your aunt, little though I have taken the role—” This being the fault more of Atar than of Lalwen, Maedhros suspected, for she was close with both the children of Fingolfin and of Finarfin, “—let no one pressure you to speak when you would not. Your heart is your own business, and no one else’s.” She turned to go, paused, and glanced back. “There are many kinds of love. An absence of one does not mean an absence of all.”

Then someone was waving her down from the side of the hall and she departed with a last glance at Maedhros over her shoulder. In pensive silence, he took a few pork buns and meandered off out of the way of those trying to reach the table.

Witnessing Elves in the bliss of courtship and wedlock, it was easy to feel cheated. Taking in the countless works of art labored over with such effort and devotion for the sake of romantic love—for a particular paramour, or simply for the notion of it—it was hard not to be frustrated at his own lack of perspective and understanding. Hearing the way others spoke of romance and of marriage—how could he not feel the rest of the world was in a joke he simply didn’t get? Yet Lalwen seemed content.

“Russandol!” He recognized Celegorm’s excited call as he tore himself out of his thoughts. His brother was coming towards him with an ear-to-ear grin that usually spelled Trouble, and even more concerning, with him was Fingon, who rarely spent time in the company of Maedhros’ brothers, less still without him present.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Not what I’m doing,” said Celegorm in a poor pantomime of innocence. “What Findekáno and Irissë are doing.” Maedhros’ eyes snapped over to Fingon, who grinned.

“And what are Findekáno and Irissë doing?”

“Grandfather has some fireworks from your father he has saved for a special occasion,” said Fingon.

“And?” said Maedhros.

“And Irissë and I have decided tonight is a special occasion,” said Fingon.

“And why is that?” Fingon shrugged.

“Because it is!” he said. “Tyelko is coming with us. Are you? When the party begins to wind down?” Maedhros scrutinized the pair, opposed in so many ways, but united over the opportunity to make things explode in pretty colors. They were both grinning at him, pleased as a bird on the wind with the prospect of their stolen pyrotechnics.

“Come on, Russandol!” wheedled Celegorm. “Come with us! It will be such fun!”

“I suppose I shall have to,” Maedhros sighed with feigned resignation. “Someone must make sure you burn nothing down by mistake.” Fingon pumped his fist in triumph.

“I shall come and find you when we’re ready!” he said, hurrying off for more food. Celegorm flashed a double thumbs-up and went to go steal sweets from Caranthir. There were plenty on the table, but he insisted the ones he took from their younger brothers and cousins tasted better.

The Arafinweans were in from Alqualondë for at least the next few weeks, which meant Maedhros could pick out their golden heads among the rest of the dark-haired Elves. Finarfin himself was there with Fingolfin, debating over what to take from the table, while Queen Indis leaned over the table to remark to them both. Finrod was over by a window with Turgon and a friend, where they were all in animated conversation about something, which presently involved Turgon using cheese cubes to make a demonstration (Finrod gave a wave when he saw Maedhros looking in their direction). Aunt Eärwen, warmly tanned after several months in her hometown, had her had bowed by Aunt Anairë’s, speaking lowly as they did when they wanted no one to intrude on their conversation. Atar was crouched beside Grandfather’s seat, listening attentively to whatever was being said, while Finwë observed his guests. Aegnor and Amrod were either playing or squabbling, it was hard to say, and either way it was happening perilously close to a pedestal housing a priceless vase. Lalwen was leaning back against a red column in easy conversation with the friends who had summoned her away from him before.

Something which had been tense in Maedhros for some time relaxed slightly. Ammë had warned him he had a tendency to overthink things and while he privately considered Ammë habitually underthought things, perhaps in this instance, there was truth there. Maybe Lalwen was right—maybe he was too worried about something that did not bear worrying about.

His bigger concern, in all truth, needed to be making sure Fingon did not set those fireworks off around a building.

#aspecardaweek #aspecardaweek2023 #maedhros #fingon #lalwen #lalwende #nerdanel #the silmarillion #tolkien tag #fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction

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griffintail · 3 years

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Okay so I'm on an angst kick tonight so here's a fic about how Little bee feels about all her new siblings.

Old news

Bee was hitting her breaking point, ANOTHER new sibling? As if Michael wasn't enough now she had to complete with the literal angel that was Boo. Her step fathers new adopted child. How could her dad do this to her? Bringing in this new 'family' as if their real family wasn't God knows where alone. She missed her cousin and uncle dearly, Little (F/L) was practically her sister at this point and sometimes Tommy was more of a father to her then her own dad. It drove the teen up the wall how quickly her father discarded them.

Now she's supposed to consider these strangers her family? No way in nether.

If anyone wants to expand on this feel free too, I wanted to write an argument but I can't think of good dialog for it.-🦊

Hahaha. Angst that I feel on a personal level. I didn’t add Little boo because I try to keep the characters separate when I write for the Lost Ones kids but there’s most certainly Michael! I really wanted to write this....NON-CANON TO LOST ONES

Old News

Pairing: Parental! Tubbo x F! Teenage! Reader

Part 2

Warnings: Angst, Misread Situations, Feelings of Neglect

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She sat alone at the docks, looking back to see her father playing with Michael in the upper story window. She huffed angrily as she looked back to the freezing water.

…They were supposed to go fishing today. But Michael was sad.

They were supposed to go last week but Ranboo wanted a day together with no kids. So, she had to watch the stupid zombie piglin…

God, she never thought she’d miss the days when Uncle Tommy would drag her and Tubbo off on dangerous adventures. She never thought she’d miss all his yelling…she never thought she’d miss L’Manberg…With all the good memories that it held inside…

At this rate, she’d start missing how her father and Tommy fought Dream all the time!

“Hey.” She jumped, looking up to see Foolish. “You’re shaking kid, you should get inside.”

Her jacket had long since felt cold. She just didn’t want to go inside and listen to dad talk to Michael though. Not when he hadn’t properly talked to her in months. She looked at the house before looking at Foolish.

“Is the mansion warm?”

“Uh, kind of. There should be a few rooms, come on.”

She got up and followed Foolish inside. She’d go to her actual room later…for now, she just wanted to sit and watch the trees sway without thinking about everything she missed…

…

She stirred her mushroom soup as she sat at the dining table inside their home after night fell. Ranboo was out, thank god, but Tubbo was upstairs with Michael again and she had to make and eat dinner for one…

“Hey, I need to talk to Foolish before he leaves. Watch Michael for a few minutes alright?” Tubbo asked her as he jumped down from the ladder.

“Ok.” She muttered.

“Thanks.” He smiled before rushing out.

She rolled her eyes and kept eating her warm soup. The kid wouldn’t die, he was old enough to be fine. There was no need to make her eat cold soup to watch the stupid zombie piglin. After a few bites though, she heard a loud thud upstairs and she face-palmed before going up the ladder.

The little zombie piglin was sniffling as a little bit of blood trickled from his forehead.

“What happened?” She sighed, going over and sitting in front of the zombie piglin, wiping the blood away with her sleeve.

Michael pointed to the bed and the floor and she shook her head.

“You jump off the bed?” And he nodded. “Yeah, that hurts like hell. I fell off a lot of crap, mostly because Uncle Tommy dared me but I digress.”

Michael gave a snort and she gave a small glare with no actual heat behind it.

“You think that’s funny little shit?” She asked and Michael shrank but she smiled. “I’m just joking. But hey, watch out, I’ve been taught by a lawyer, I’ll sue you next time.”

She didn’t hate Michael; she just didn’t like how he and Ranboo got all of her father’s attention. Michael was a funny kid and smart when given the chance. She just wanted to avoid him though so she didn’t have to think about what he gets that she can’t.

“Alright, come on, I think there’s some of those special potions for you downstairs.” She said, standing up.

The teenager was about to pick him up when Tubbo came into the room.

“Hey, how—What happened?!” Tubbo exclaimed, rushing to Michael, not a second glance to (Y/N).

“Oh, he just fell a bit.” (Y/N) said.

“He fell?! How? Weren’t you watching him?” Tubbo asked her with even looking at her as he carefully looked at the minor cut on Michael’s head.

“Dad, he’s fine. It’s just a little cut from a fall.” She wasn’t watching him but she also wasn’t going to tell on Michael that he just jumped off the bed.

“You call this fine?!” He motioned to Michael as he finally looked at her.

“Yeah, I had a lot worse going on adventures with you and Uncle Tommy.”

“Yeah! But he’s not you!” Tubbo huffed looking away.

(Y/N) was taken aback by that. He wasn’t her…No, no Michael wasn’t her. He was better than her, just look. Michael always has her father’s attention. What was she? Just…just a disappointment.

Tubbo canceled plans with her, Tubbo rarely spoke to her as much, Tubbo barely spared her a glance some days. He had a better family now…

“You’re right.” She whispered, Michael giving little snorts seeing the tears in the older girl’s eyes. “I’m going to go.”

“I think that will be best,” Tubbo said, once more not looking at her as he picked Michael up.

Her lip quivered before nodding as she rushed downstairs. Tears poured down her cheeks as she grabbed a bag and threw her clothes in. Nothing else.

She left the house, hearing nothing from her father as she walked away from Snowchester.

It was better for everyone…They could be happy without her bothering them now…

The darkness surrounded her as she clutched her bag as she crossed the path back towards Dream SMP land. As she got across, she looked up at the well-lit hotel her uncle had finally won back. Without much thought, she dashed up the path to the building. As she got to the door, she hesitated.

Would it be better for her uncle if she didn’t bother him? Would he be happier?

“(Y/N)?” She heard behind her and she once more jumped as she looked to see Tommy walking past the gates to the hotel.

He stopped seeing her red eyes and the tears staining her cheeks, along with the bag by her side. He then rushed over, taking her arms.

“What happened? Who hurt you? Who the fuck is going to die?”

At his words, she sobbed. She hadn’t felt this cared about in months…

Tommy was startled before hugging her tightly. “Hey, it’s ok, kid. I’ll fuck up their shit for you. No need for the waterworks. Let’s get inside.”

He brought her inside as she cried harder and he didn’t get much of an explanation once she calmed down as she didn’t want to talk about it but he set her up with a room and told her they’d talk about it tomorrow when she got some rest. Yes, Tommy was worried but he knew that he couldn’t just force the kid to tell him everything when she looked exhausted.

“I don’t know how Tubbo fucked this up, but I’ll fuck up his shit later,” Tommy told her, ruffling her hair. “After I beat the ass of who hurt you. Get some rest.”

He left the room after that as she held back the tears this time. If only he knew, and lord did it feel so good to feel like someone cared…She had missed Uncle Tommy…

…

Tubbo came to (Y/N)’s door later after putting Michael to sleep. Tubbo felt guilty about getting so snippy with his daughter. She was right, kids get hurt. He remembered the clumsy little girl that would fall down all the time or who he’d have to catch after Tommy dared her to jump from various places. It made him feel guiltier when Michael tried to stick up for her, trying to take all the blame.

He hadn’t been angry; he was just scared. He had fucked up in some areas with (Y/N), he couldn’t fuck up again. Michael wasn’t the same as her, he was more fragile, a different creature entirely, which meant he had to be extra careful. It was better she went to her room though, so he didn’t say something he’d regret. He felt regret though for being so loud with his words.

“(Y/N).” He knocked on her door.

She didn’t answer and he sighed.

“I’m sorry for yelling. I didn’t mean it. I was just scared because Michael isn’t like you or me. He gets hurt a lot easier. And…shit. I forgot about fishing, didn’t I? I’m making a lot of mistakes today. I’m so sorry little lamb. I…I’ll leave Michael with Foolish tomorrow and we’ll have a day all to ourselves, no matter what. We’ll have your favorite breakfast and do whatever you want, ok? Just you and me my special little bee.”

There was still no answer and he let out another as he nodded.

“I’m going to stick to it! I promise (Y/N). I love you so much. Good night.”

And he left without opening the door to see what he’d find out tomorrow…

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #tubbo x reader #dreamsmp x reader

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bokubooo · 2 years

Text

iwaizumi h. — deck the halls

my piece for @lostinwildflowers Birch's 12 Days of Cheer Collab <33

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x GN!reader

cw: n/a (will add warnings if requested to with reasonable reasons)

notes: no I did not get this done literally the day before I set my deadline to 🙄✋ anyway uh iwa <3

wonderful Christmas time, in which people came together for the exchange of gifts and visiting family. when snow would fall to the ground in sheets, shining like diamonds.

and you and to admit, it was probably one of your favorite times of year. you loved decorating the Christmas tree and enjoying a dinner with relatives. seeing your little cousins and your grandparents and your aunts and uncles.

though you had to say, you hadn't been expecting the situation you were in as of now.

after spending the whole day setting up decorations in the gym (after Tooru insisted everyone get into the holiday spirit,) you were ready to sit down and watch the boys play.

things went south when you heard a crash outside, and you leaped to your feet and was out the door in mere seconds. there, on the ground, sat Hajime, rubbing his arm and grimacing a bit, a few boxes strewn about around him.

"Hajime!" you shout, hurrying down the steps of the gym, squatting beside him. "are you alright? why didn't you ask for help carrying the stuff?"

the boy huffed, pouting a bit as he swatted you away. "I'm fine. I can handle them on my own."

"the way you're on the ground with your boxes all over the place says otherwise," you giggle. you made quick work collecting the boxes, splitting them so you could help Hajime carry them inside.

as you passed through the door side-by-side, silence fell over the gym, and for what ever reason, everyone's eyes were on you and Hajime (and you had to say, the other third years had very suspicious smirks on their face, as if they knew something you and Hajime didn't.)

"..why are you guys staring at us?" you ask, shuffling your feet as you felt yourself getting a bit uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on you.

Tooru giggled to himself, pointing above you and Hajime's heads.

your head snapped up and your heart exploded into hard thumping, your brain racing a million miles a minute, and you didn't doubt your face was as flushed as it felt.

a mistletoe hung from the doorway to the gym, swaying gently in the wind from outside, seemingly taunting you.

you stole a glance at Hajime, whose face was as red as yours, but he quickly averted his face to the ground.

"'s just a stupid mistletoe, that's kinda childish, Shittykawa."

you took note of the slight stumble in his words.

"doesn't matter, Iwa-Chan. it's the rules. you two gotta kiss." Tooru placed his hands on his hips, looking very proud of himself, and you concluded that he'd planned this.

you turned back to Hajime.

"it's okay Haji, you don't have to if you don't want to."

there was a yell of protest from Tooru, on addition with him shouting "oh yes you do!"

you ignored the setter, trying to catch Hajime's eyes. he remained silent and it worried you.

"Hajime? did you hear me?"

the boy grumbled under his breath, setting down his boxes on the ground and taking off his jacket. he held the white and teal item up so the team couldn't see you and Hajime's heads. before you knew it he quickly leaned on, pressing the softest kiss you could ever imagine to the corner of your lips (seriously, who knew such a rough guy could be so gentle? well, you sure knew. you knew from the moments spent with him, when he offered his jacket to you on a freezing winter night, when he left little snacks in your locker and always made sure you were drinking water, how he seemed to constantly br looking after you- you knew he could be this caring.)

he pulled back, face the reddest you'd ever seen, the tips of his ears were even flushed. he pulled his jacket back on, picked up his boxes and returned to walking into the gym, though he was noticeably silent, and he didn’t look up from the floor once.

Tooru whines from his place across the gym, having been prepared before to get pictures of the moment between you and Hajime. seemed like Hajime had thought ahead though.

you couldn't stop the giddy smile on your face, you followed after Hajime like a giddy puppy, skipping after him (or the best you could skip with a bunch of boxes in your hands.)

#iwaizumi h.#iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #birch's 12 days of cheer collab #iwaizumi fluff #.sealed + stamped #.seijoh

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pretty-face-breaker · 3 years

Text

Maybe Not Now

During Pavel’s daily torment of him, Emir sees something in him that he hadn’t seen before.

c.w. military whump, sadistic whumper, forced exercise as punishment, insults, degrading language, captivity, alluding to death as an alternative to torture

—

“That’s all for now, soldaty. Back to your dorms and make it neat,” General Levkin called.

With a raise of his palm, collective relief could be heard above the fading grunts. Men rose from the field and dusted their palms on their trousers, snatching up their rifles. Twenty of them clicked sharply as they swung over various shoulders. Some grabbed a drink of water they had been meaning to get for hours as clouds swept over the barren training grounds.

The drills of the day were over.

As the soldiers filed after one another, murmuring too fast and foreign to be kept up with, Emir followed behind with a dry throat. His arms ached. He could hardly remember making that many mistakes in his basic training or what were supposedly called mistakes by Stanislav Levkin’s eye. He always seemed to catch him doing something wrong. Inaccurate aim. Sloppy position. Poor posture.

But he had taken the admonitions, the hits and laps, nodded obediently, straightened his back or concentrated harder on his aim. He didn’t feel like fighting the corrections in front of fifty others and with the amount of sleep hardly managed each night, he didn’t doubt some were his fault. That, and for other reasons. Emir winced as a now clear head focussed on the burning in his bicep.

The place Pavel had rubbed the salt earlier that week.

Maybe yes, sir-ing his way through the drills had been also to spare his throat from overexerting itself more than he had torn in, wailing wordlessly among laughter and pleading in broken Russian to a man who likely hadn’t heard the word in his life. Emir grimaced and, feeling a bump of a body behind him, sped up to climb the stairs. Until he felt a hand pulling him aside.

“Not so fast. Hey, you.” Pavel grinned as he pulled him from formation and back down the steps.

Emir froze and his hand shot to his collar, trying to keep his balance. “Podozhdite—” But Pavel wasn’t one to wait and pulled him fiercely until he tripped on the rocks, barely catching himself on the stone railing. Humiliated, he straightened up glaring. Pavel’s leer was ever present with that same colour of resentment, his eyes cold and devising.

The taller man chuckled. “Did you even complete your recruit training? With how today went, I thought Stas was going to pin you to that target.”

Emir swallowed, trying not to dignify that with a response.

Pavel’s face darkened in silence. “Follow me then get on the fucking ground. I’m not done with you.”

His heart slammed in his throat as he followed without a word, feeling his fingertips grow cold as the group’s noises faded. With each moment, he pushed his feet further to the edges of the terrain where voices ended and the forest began and each step felt harder to take, the closer those trees got. He sucked in a quiet breath when Pavel stopped.

“Drop. Feet together.”

Emir obeyed, falling tense to the pushup form, and dug his nails into the earth for a brief moment, just to feel the cool of the grass, to ground himself. Once, he let his lungs expand with a breath and plunged. Pavel didn’t have to say a word for him to begin and he figured he could save him the trouble. Save it for himself too so he wouldn’t have to pay for it later again.

He bent his elbows, breathing evenly and keeping them tracking alongside his body, until his chest dipped just below the angle of each elbow, then pushed back up, expelling the air. Slow, controlled so his throat wouldn’t burn like it had last time. His eyes were fixed on the trees across from him, the endless stretch of wood and darkness that he watched from his bed sometimes.

It reminded him of the trip he had taken years ago, camping with his cousins after having convinced his mother that he would bring a gun and that everything would go well. Even now, he remembered the distaste in her head shake and the veiled worry in her tone as she had thrown up a hand in defeat.

Fine, abni, but if you get mauled by a bear, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

A smile graced his mouth. It was like he was hardly there anymore. Though a few reps more and he felt a shift in breathing as Pavel sunk down onto the log next to him.

“Feel like this has gotten easier for you. A hundred and fifty reps, nothing, eh?” He chuckled and patted him on the shoulder with enough force that Emir briefly swayed. “Fast learner. You don’t piss me off as much.”

“Then why do you keep hurting me?” Emir asked coolly. His jaw tightened a bit, hearing the huff. As if the question was a challenge.

“Because you’re fun to hurt. You make fun noises, give me—all of us—a good time.”

Pavel’s eye caught a nearby stone and he tapped on his knee thoughtfully as Emir plunged into another graceful pushup. The leer he wore quickly grew crooked and he revelled in the tiny spark of fear that stuttered Emir’s breathing. Hearing it was always wonderful because it meant the little shit was listening to him and on his toes more often than he had been.

“I noticed your back was all fucked up,” Pavel admitted, reaching for the rock which could have easily been five pounds, “when we changed.”

Emir’s eyes stayed frozen on the hollow of a nearby tree. His chest was beginning to burn with the onset of faint panic but he was surprised as it wasn’t his fiftieth repetition yet where the burning usually started. “Is that new?”

The pressure of the rock came fully and at once into the small of his back and he jerked and tightened into a plank. He couldn’t move for a few seconds, realizing Pavel’s intention.

“You haven’t finished. Keep going or the next one goes into your head.”

Admittedly, the next few repetitions of the pushup were only slightly less comfortable, just a tinge less familiar with the weight on his spine and he felt his elbows wobble only the slightest amount. Still, Emir persisted. He had gone no more than ten before the next rock, larger this time, sat in front of the first. Hearing Pavel’s snicker, a silent rage caved in his chest.

“You just had to fall into my hands, huh?” he laughed, patting the ground for another. “Unlucky bastard.”

Emir was beginning to feel the onset of exhaustion seeping into an already worn body. He knew if he collapsed, Pavel would have something to say about it, presumably with his shoe. He winced and exhaled on the wrong motion, had to pause for a moment and focus his breathing before the next plunge and all while ignoring the wry laughter of the man next to him.

“At least I’m not dead,” he muttered.

Pavel stirred before he was about to lay the third rock on the next few ridges of his spine. At first, he scoffed off the response but didn’t resume the motion. He stayed silent for a few moments, letting Emir dip into the next less-than-graceful pushup and watched a bead of sweat roll down his dark temple. Something akin to cynical admiration passed across his eyes.

“You’d rather be alive, here?”

This time, Emir stopped too. He kept his eyes forward, trained as usual, but too long had passed for it to feel like Pavel’s routine. His gaze gradually flickered over to the green eyes and tan skin beside him that so typically fixed him like prey, now staring at him in annoyed curiosity. “Yeah,” he admitted.

The trees rustled softly in the background, dampening the mechanics from the camp as if they were unpleasant, fading memories.

“You’re an idiot.” Pavel let the stone go and smirked to himself at the wince but it was less self-satisfied. “For getting caught and for thinking this is going to be better.”

“My pilot got shot and we crashed directly in front of you,” Emir grumbled, feeling a pulling need to defend his honour and that of his late pilot’s. “Didn’t get caught.” He glanced at Pavel warily and breathed out, seeing no brimming violence under his expression. “Besides, I-I have a family at home to think about.”

The green eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re not going home.”

He swallowed, not quite yielding. “Maybe not now.”

“Maybe not ever.”

Emir waited in silence for a minute more, saying little besides the soft, stuttering breaths that whistled in unison with the pines, gull calls, and the dirt twisting under Pavel’s shoe. He sensed it was an exercise to relieve boredom with how often he did it. He didn’t want to think about what Pavel had just said.

He thought about it too often, already.

Slowly, he exhaled and pushed down again under the weight of three rocks, elbows bending alongside his body, and inhaled like it would be his last breath on his—shit, he had lost count. He mechanically continued, hoping that at a certain point, Pavel would stop him and let him go when he had fulfilled the day’s quota of entertainment but then, froze completely upon realizing that it had always been his responsibility to count.

Pavel noticed his uncertainness. “What? You lost count or something?”

Emir did nothing for a minute before lapsing into silent despair and nodding. What was the worst he could do, really? Kick him in the ribs? Big fucking whoop. He waited for the blow anyways, feeling that it would be a welcome relief to the incessant burning in his arms that threatened to have his entire body give out at that moment and crash to the ground onto that asshole’s boot.

But in the meantime, Pavel had been quiet and uncharacteristically thoughtful.

“Get up,” he ordered. “That’s enough.” He pushed himself up from the log and stretched to the clouds, wincing himself at the unwise angle he had been slouching in since Emir had begun the exercise. “Go back to your dorm and don’t let me see you again today.”

Too stunned to move, Emir fixed him with a fearful look until he realized it was a serious order. He could have let himself fall to the ground and really, it was tempting. To lay there and let the exhaustion seep into the dirt but Pavel’s patience already seemed stick-thin and he didn’t want to push today’s generosity. He rolled to let the rocks fall off and bolted to standing, starting his journey back to the camp. When he turned for Pavel’s approval, the man wasn’t moving.

His eyebrows pricked up. “Maybe not now,” he muttered. “Idiot.”

Tagging: @straight-to-the-pain @heathenville

Let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!

#whump #whump writing #military whump #ussr #wartime whump #sadistic whumper #threats #captivity #captive whumpee #forced exercise #overexertion

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moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 20)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 7235 Warnings: fluff, smut, angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: I’m patiently waiting for some screaming! Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 19 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Making your way downstairs was a little awkward and you barely made eye contact with Bucky. Winnie was waiting outside by the idling car, laughing at the person who had their back to you. They were fairly tall in a pewter suit and had short brown hair that was closely shaved in the back. Winnie nudged her chin and the person turned around, a smile spreading across their unfamiliar and yet completely recognizable face.

They shared the same deep blue eyes and dimple on their chin as Bucky and you knew this had to be Rebecca. Their hair was longer in the front, falling just beside their eyes, sparkling with gold and plum shadow.

“Bex!” Bucky exclaimed, smiling just as widely to see his sibling, wrapping them in a big hug.

“You cut your hair!” Rebecca looked at it approvingly. “Tryin’ to copy me I see,” they joked.

You smiled watching them together, forgetting any awkward feelings between yourself and Bucky; they were now solely reserved for introductions with Rebecca whose effortlessly cool vibe had you on edge for some reason.

Bucky pulled away from the hug, placing his hand behind you, almost touching the bare skin of your back before he realized that might be too intimate.

“Bex this is Y/N,” he introduced with a proud smile you couldn’t see.

“So nice to meet you,” you said, not expecting the hug they gave you.

Winnie stepped in the moment Rebecca stepped back to give you a hug of her own. She turned to check in with George who stayed in the car listening to a classic rock radio station.

“Okay let’s not be late,” she chirped, pointing at the watch not present on her wrist. “James, you sit in the front. We’ll all squeeze in the back.”

Rebecca got in first, sliding across the black leather seats to take the smaller spot in the middle. It wasn’t crowded with the three of you sitting together but Winnie made a good call not letting Bucky’s bulkier frame encroach on you or Rebecca had he been seated back there.

You saw swirls of ink on Rebecca’s wrist as they shifted to pull out their phone, which prompted them to roll up their sleeves, showing off part of the tattoos that cover their arm.

“It’s not done yet,” they said, revealing a bare spot on their forearm beside a large watercolor macaw tattoo.

Bucky’s head turned back ever so slightly, his eyes trying to see as much as he could without being so obvious as he watched you and Rebecca interact. He knows why he’s so nervous, his family hasn’t met anyone in his life since Olivia.

He scoffed internally when he thought about it. He was a kid, a kid with a broken heart that should have gotten over it a long time ago. But had things been different maybe Bucky would have never met you. He smiled to himself, thankful for his choices– no matter how childish, because they led him here.

Softly colored roses in peach and pale pinks were draped along the wooden archway, the gossamer fabric wrapped around the posts fluttered delicately with the wind. A golden sunset on the water served as the backdrop for an even more beautiful ceremony, celebrating the love of two people that never expected to find it.

Bucky looked over to catch a glimpse of the fading sun sparkling in your eyes. The soft sigh he exhaled was masked by the sound of cheers that rang out amongst the crowd as the newlyweds kissed.

The crowd dispersed onto the adjacent patio where lanterns hung from large sturdy trees, white pillar candles flickering inside. Soft pink fabric was draped over the tables, some small with golden framed chairs surrounding them, others free standing high tops that were scattered around beside the neatly trimmed lawn. Each had a handful of tealight candles gently glowing on top.

You followed Bucky and his family to the table where the hors d'oeuvres were served, taking the plate he handed you and picking up a few things. The display at the end of the table made you burst out with laughter. Among the fresh fruit and crudité were oversized plastic ants, each with a piece of fruit on their backs arranged in a line as if they were walking away with them.

Bucky shrugged. “It’s a thing with Hope’s family… I never really asked,” he chuckled, picking up a few strawberries from the platter behind the fake ants.

George pulled a chair from another table so you could all sit together. Placing his plate down he asked Winnie if she wanted a glass wine and she nodded, confident in knowing George knew what her favorite was.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Bucky asked. He knew what you drank when everyone went out together but he didn’t want to assume, waiting for you to respond before he and Rebecca accompanied their father to the bar.

Winnie didn’t hesitate to talk once they’d left, specifically about how happy she was Bucky was able to bring you. “He caused such a fuss, begging Scott and Hope to give him a last minute plus one.”

At that moment you wished you had a drink to bring to your lips, covering up the way her revelation had left you slack jawed. According to Bucky you were invited because he responded for two, making it seem as if you were doing him a huge favor by coming but the more Winnie spoke you realized your invitation was never to fill a seat; he was begging and pleading to bring a guest, to bring you.

“I can tell you’re special Y/N. I’ve never seen James this way with anyone in a long, long time.”

You couldn’t speak if you tried, smiling back at Winnie as your mind raced to free your heart from the protective cage it was locked away in. For once they were on the same page, heart and mind, desperate to run together right to Bucky.

When he returned to the table you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, maintaining a soft smile as your heart fluttered like a hummingbird inside your chest, desperate to break free and scream out your feelings from the top of your lungs.

You thanked him for the drink he brought back, letting your fingers linger on his hand for a beat longer than they should have, keeping your gaze locked with his before slowly turning towards Rebecca to answer the question they asked. Bucky’s cheeks were a blooming pink that practically matched the decor, his skin prickling with the memory of your touch.

Time passed quickly over conversation along with extended family members coming over to say hello. You didn’t miss the way Bucky smiled widely as he introduced you, simply as Y/N but wishing his lips had spoken the words written on your heart and called you his.

The grand doors of the ballroom opened when it was time for the reception. Bucky offered his arm which you took as he led you inside. Large chandeliers hung from the intricately detailed ceiling. Tall vases served as the centerpiece on the tables, each filled with a large arrangement of similar colored roses from the archway.

Pulling out the chair for you to be seated, Bucky happened to catch the approving smile on his father’s face, looking away to avoid an embarrassing flush to his cheeks if he held the knowing look any longer. He turned his gaze towards you and the beautiful smile that lit up your whole face as you and Rebecca were continuing your conversation from before.

Bucky sighed, feeling his heart swell even more as he realized he didn’t have to ask what his family thought about you, each of them unable to hold back their own smiles. They like you as much as he does, they want you to be with him as much as he does and if they knew how much of an idiot he’s been, denying his feelings for so long they would definitely cause a scene. But Bucky knows it won’t be long before he finally tells you.

So many scenarios went through his mind; inviting you to dinner next weekend and planning a whole speech, bursting through your door tomorrow night spilling out all the words in his heart in a mess of emotions, kiss you tonight, tomorrow, any day, every day! It doesn’t matter how, he just wants you to know.

His thoughts were interrupted by Scott and Hope making their entrance and sharing their first dance in front of everyone. Bucky reined in his thoughts that imagined the two of you in their place, a concept he never gave much attention to before believing it wasn’t for him, but with you by his side…

“Oh how sweet!” your voice beamed, pulling Bucky back to reality.

Cassie had run out onto the dance floor, swaying side to side with Hope and her father holding their hands. Scott lifted her into his arms, slinging her on his hip as Hope moved close enough for both of them to plant a kiss on both of her cheeks at the same time.

The photographer captured the moment along with so many more memories as the night went on especially when Scott’s best man Luis gave a very entertaining (and somewhat never ending) toast. You and Rebecca ran into him at the bar, unable to get much of a word in as Luis enthusiastically rambled on about how happy he is to be at Scott’s wedding.

“When I first met Scotty he was in a bed place, and I’m not talking about cell block D. His wife had just filed for divorce. And I was like, ‘Damn homie, she dumped you while you were in lock up?’ And he was like ‘Yeah I know. I thought I was gonna be with her forever but now I’m all alone!’ And I was like, ‘Damn homie, you gotta chin up. ‘Cause you’ll find a new partner.’ And he did! And it all started when I was at a wine tasting with my cousin Ernesto…”

You were focused on Luis’ very detailed story unaware of Bucky’s eyes on you from across the room. He was startled by Scott, squeezing his shoulders from behind and Bucky turned around to give his cousin a congratulatory hug.

“You haven’t told her yet, huh?” Scott said, his lips pulling into a crooked smile. Bucky’s brows knit together confused. “I see the way you look at her.”

Bucky sighed, looking at Scott without replying. There was nothing to say; he was caught staring at you from the far side of the room because he was too much of a coward to tell you how he felt.

“Hey I know you might be scared. After divorcing Maggie I was terrified, thought I’d never be able to put myself out there again and then I found Hope.”

Bucky sees the smile crinkling your eyes, hears your laughter that’s sweeter than music. “You’re right Scott, I have been scared… but I’m not anymore.” A content smile spreads across his face.

There’s a calm sense of relief that washes over Bucky as he knows with certainty that there is nothing he’s ever wanted more in his life. The universe is with him, ending the fast paced song that matched the beat of his heart to something slow and romantic.

Bucky strides across the hallway like he’s floating on a cloud until he reaches you. The words flow like smooth honey as he asked, “Would you like to dance?”

His hand is soft against yours, your whole body giddy with delight as he guides you to the dance floor. Time moves in slow motion, the world around you fading away as Bucky takes your hand in his, moving his other to the small of your back.

It was intimate, close and exactly how you wanted it to be. You let out a soft sigh as you relaxed into his embrace, letting your free arm glide up the fabric of his suit, curving it over his shoulder and looking deeply into his eyes. His pupils were blown with desire as Bucky stared back at you, the corners of his mouth twitching with an ever so slight smile.

Words were not spoken as you swayed together with the music but you both felt a change; like breathing foreign air, something felt different. You and Bucky danced in a world of your own, the past a distant memory that held your fears behind, finally allowing your heart to soar freely.

A smile pulled at your lips, one that felt brighter than the sun as you truly let go of everything that was holding you back. You moved closer, letting yourself drown in Bucky’s intoxicating scent, like cinnamon toasting over a warm fire as you nuzzled your nose into his neck.

He squeezed you tighter, his heart doing backflips in his chest, unable to fathom that this was actually happening. His nose grazes along the shell of your ear and you hear the soft inhalation of breath coming from his parted lips. A wave of tingles ran down your spine, shocking yourself into remembering you and Bucky were not alone but very much in the middle of a public setting surrounded by his family.

You pulled back to his surprise but the smile that would never cease to leave your face calmed his nerves.

“Follow me,” you purred, not letting go of Bucky’s hand as you led him outside.

A few people were scattered outside on the patio, some gathered around the high top tables that still remained, enjoying their drinks over conversation. You smiled over your shoulder back at Bucky, pulling him further away until you reached the area where the ceremony took place. The chairs had been cleared but the archway remained, the fabric wrapped around it still blowing in the wind.

You stopped at the edge of the railing, looking out onto the water as moonlight danced on the gentle waves. Goosebumps prickled all over your skin but you couldn’t be sure if it was from the breeze or Bucky standing close beside you.

The beating of your heart grew faster and you wondered if he could hear the drumming through your chest. A lump was caught in your throat as you felt Bucky’s hand cover yours on the railing. You turned your head to face him, slowly lifting your eyes from his perfect lips, the sight of them made you lick your own, meeting his eyes, the darkness reflecting a moonlit sparkle.

The memory of your New Years kiss made you shiver, letting a shaky breath out as you turned your body to face him, letting your hands wrap around his neck, his hands resting on your waist, closing the distance between you.

It wasn’t New Years, it wasn’t even the Fourth of July but you felt fireworks erupting in your stomach as you kissed, his soft lips massaging yours with a passionate fervor that grew by the second. You needed more, parting your lips for his skillful tongue to slip past them, deepening the kiss and loving the way he moaned as your hand scratched through his hair.

Distant laughter reminded you once again that you were still not alone but in the moment you really wanted to be. When the need for air became too great you pulled away.

“I missed that,” you admitted through a smile, catching your breath.

Bucky caressed your cheek gently with his fingers, his whole face lighting up in delight. “Would you believe me if I said the same?”

“Maybe,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck again.

“Would you believe me if I told you how I can’t get you off my mind? That ever since you came into my life I’ve been fighting the feelings I’ve had for you?” You nodded softly at his admission believing every word, knowing that what you’ve been feeling wasn’t just in your imagination, that things between you and Bucky had changed and finally the truth was out.

“I’m tired of fighting them,” he said, “I– ” You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, sweetly stealing a soft kiss as you hummed against him.

Your smiles could not be contained, staring deeply into each other’s eyes under the silver glow of the moonlight. You would have stayed that way for longer had you not heard the echo of a voice coming from inside. Bucky peeked over your shoulder to see other people heading back in for the cake cutting.

With your fingers laced together you went back inside, taking your seats and ignoring the smirk Rebecca and Winnie had on their faces after noticing your lipstick was no longer existent, not on your lips at least. Luckily their eyes were focused on the newlyweds and not on Bucky’s hand which casually found its way to your thigh, his thumb gently running back and forth over the smooth material of your dress.

Scott dabbed a bit of frosting on the tip of Hope’s nose as she smushed a larger piece on his face, laughing and happily kissing his messy mouth to a round of cheers. The night continued with more dancing and Bucky’s family leaving just after the garter and bouquet toss.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Winnie said, having added you as a friend on Facebook. “George barbecues a lot over the summer so I hope to see you and James more often.” She wrapped you in a strong embrace, followed by Rebecca who had given you their Instagram, hoping to keep in touch as well.

George said goodbye with a friendly hug, reiterating your invitation. “James may be the musician but I’m the maestro of the barbecue.”

Bucky let out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his embarrassment making you chuckle even more at his dad’s joke. Opening their arms to each other they hugged, and Bucky said goodbye to everyone.

“Get home safe!” Bucky called out as they walked down the hall.

You and Bucky stayed for a little while longer before saying goodnight to Hope, Scott and a few others, waiting outside of the main entrance for your Uber to arrive. Your lower lip trembled from the cold but less than a moment later you felt the weight of Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek that added to the warmth you felt.

The Uber arrived shortly and once you were settled inside you leaned your head against Bucky’s shoulder. His arm wrapped around you, rubbing your own through his jacket as your hand caressed his for the duration of the ride back to the hotel.

Bucky helped you out of the car, his jacket slipping off your shoulders as you stood up. You didn’t need it anymore, feeling warmth spread through your body from his touch. The walk to the elevator was short and quiet, both of you holding back awkward smiles and smitten feelings.

When the doors opened to your floor you felt your heart pounding louder with every step that brought you closer to the hotel room. Bucky swiped the card into the door, holding it open for you as it unlocked. The beating amplified when you heard the door shut and Bucky turning the locks. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide anymore, not with both of your feelings out there.

He laid his jacket over the chair as you set your clutch to the side. His steps were hesitant, full of tension as he got closer to you, finally finding the courage to take your hands in his. Up close you could see the blush that brightened his cheeks, smiling at the way he licked his lips, sucking his bottom one into his mouth and nervously chewing on it.

You brought your hand up to cup his cheek, feeling the beginnings of stubble scratch at your palm. Lifting his gaze to yours you locked eyes with Bucky, seeing the retreat of blue as they grew darker the longer you stared at each other. Exhaling a shaky breath you moved your hand to the nape of his neck bringing him closer as you pressed your lips against his.

With that touch the dam of restraint broke and Bucky was kissing you back, his hands cupping the side of your face, your jaw, anywhere and everywhere as he deepened the kiss. Your hands were roaming his body, grazing across the strong muscles of his back and down his sides again as you held on to his waist.

Gulps of breath were quick as the need to make out was greater than oxygen, but when you did stop to fill your lungs with air you smiled against each other, foreheads and noses touching before he would capture your lips again, sucking softly on your bottom lip. You hummed against him, parting your lips for his tongue to slip inside and caress yours.

You gasped when the back of your knees unexpectedly hit the edge of the mattress, quickly losing your balance and pulling Bucky down with you. He braced himself with one arm above you, smiling at the way your face lit up beautifully with laughter. Bucky waited for you to center your gaze on him again before he brought his lips back to yours. His kiss was soft and slow, passionate and needy, wanting to prolong every second with you and hoping this wasn’t a dream. If it was he never wanted to wake up, preferring to spend the rest of his existence here with you in this perfect world.

His mouth explored your body, running his tongue down your skin until you gasped when he discovered that sensitive spot where your collarbone and neck met. Bucky smirked as you writhed against him, letting a sultry moan fall from your lips as he sucked your skin gently.

The sound alone made him hard and your hips lifting against his didn’t help. Bucky pulled away breathless, knowing he had to stop despite wanting this to never end.

“I can’t, we…” He swallowed dryly, bringing one hand to cup the soft skin of your cheek. “I don’t have protection.”

Not bringing condoms on a weekend that practically guaranteed sex did not sound like the man you first knew who was banging his way through every woman in Manhattan, but Bucky hasn’t been that man in a long time. Somehow over the course of your friendship he’s grown, changed into the person that admitted to what even he thought was impossible, having feelings and wanting more than just sex.

Bucky crawled back off of you, digging his knees into the mattress as he blew out harsh breaths to try and handle his situation accordingly. A smile spread slowly across your face as you pushed yourself up from the bed, quickly moving out of the way as Bucky swung his legs over the side as you remembered what Wanda thankfully snuck into your bag.

Feeling awkward and embarrassed, Bucky didn’t pay much attention to what you were doing, not lifting his head until he saw you standing in front of him with something in your hand.

“I have them,” you said firmly, opening your palm to reveal the package of condoms, the foil reflecting off the light. Your chest heaved with anticipation until Bucky’s eyes met yours.

The shock on his face was clear, never expecting any of this to happen. His back stiffened cautiously as he asked with trepidation, “Are you sure? We don’t have to– ”

“I know. I want to.”

Simple words, simple truths.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth pulled into a smile as you stepped in between his legs, leaning in to tease your lips against his but not give in to what he wanted. Instead you pushed on his chest to make him lay flat on the mattress, lifting the fabric of your dress you got on the bed to straddle him.

Bucky swallowed a dry gulp, his hands skimming first up your thighs and then your waist as you leaned forward to hover over him again. This time he doesn’t let you tease him. He took your lips feverishly, letting your tongues dance in a passionate tango. Your hips begin to move, grinding against his arousal and he whimpers against your mouth.

He gets the urge to tear off your clothes and fuck you hard into the mattress and if you were anyone else he would have, but Bucky doesn’t want this to be about sex. He wants to do something he hasn’t done in a very long time, connect with someone physically and emotionally at once.

Soft hands cup your cheeks, holding your face above him as Bucky stares deeply past your eyes and into your heart. A tender smile pulls at his mouth, one that makes you slow down and smile back at him, letting out soft exhalations that try to match the beat of his.

He sets the tempo, lifting his head to press his lips gently against yours, his hand running up and down your back. Cradled in his arms, Bucky shifted so that you were both lying side by side, his lips never leaving yours, swallowing every moan that fell from your heavenly mouth.

Your hands roamed his body; caressing the back of his head as you deepened the kiss with your tongue, feeling solid muscle beneath his shirt as you rubbed down his chest. His hands brushed against your thigh, over the globes of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. You can’t help the moan that escapes as a dull ache radiates from your core.

Instinctively, your hips move against him craving more friction as your hands make quick work of his belt. His hand skimmed up your side, cupping your breast, his thumb brushing over your stiff nipple.

The breath stilled in your throat like the measure of time around you, slowing down enough so you could see every touch, feel the brush of his lips; each one the scratch of a pen on a music sheet, creating a song one note at a time.

Open mouth kisses trailed down your skin leaving you breathless as his hands pulled down the fluttering sleeves of your dress. Unclasping the buttons of his shirt, you peeled it off his body as he reached around to tug down your zipper, letting the fabric fall off you. You were drawn to each other’s bodies, warm mouths on warm skin that grew hotter by the moment.

A steady cadence of moans falls from your lips as Bucky worships you with his mouth. It’s better than anything you imagined on those nights when headphones blocked out the primal sounds of pleasure coming from next door. The pitch of your cries reaches new heights as he sends you over the edge, hands grabbing at his hair from between your thighs to brace yourself.

Blue eyes tainted dark with lust peek open to watch your writhe in ecstasy as you come undone. Bucky stays with you through it, his hands laced with yours as your body comes down from blissful heaven. He kisses his way up your body pulling soft moans and gasps from you along the way until he found your lips again; aching, hungry, desperate for his tongue.

You ease him to his back, kissing down Bucky’s neck until you reach the band of his briefs. Your eyes widen at the outline of his arousal, he lifts his hips to help you slide them off and your legs clench together at the sight of his thick cock springing up and slapping his stomach. He quivered with anticipation as you take him in your hands, a low groan rumbling in his throat as he watches himself disappear into your warm mouth.

Euphoric pleasure washes over Bucky as you hum around him, his moans becoming a sweet melody to your ear. Before it’s too much he pulls you off of him, grabbing your face in a plea for your lips against his. He skims his hands along the bed searching for the condom, having to get up to find it as you settle onto your back. The wrapper is torn open, the condom sliding down on his length.

Bucky takes a moment to look at you, to really look at you in a way he’s never taken the time before when he’s been with someone. Your smile lights up his heart and he presses his lips against yours softly. You wonder if he’s waiting for a sign, staring up at his smile stretched out so far he can hardly contain it. With a roll of your hips you rock against him and after losing himself in your eyes Bucky almost forgets what’s supposed to come next– almost.

Wetness gathers on his length and he pushes in gently, his gasps harmonizing with yours as he fills you completely. His lips are on your again because Bucky can’t help it, hooked like a drug on the immediate relief that comes with the investment of his heart.

The rhythm is set by the slow thrust of his hips, you claw at his back as he deepens his sensual pace, the friction bringing you closer and closer. It’s not long before you shudder around him, the first of many times that have you crying out his name; wondering but ultimately not caring if these walls were as thin as the ones in your apartment.

Your cries reach a new octave as he orchestrates your pleasure, thrusting to meet your hips as you ride him. Together you create a symphony that crescendos as you ride the waves of bliss together, the melody forever imprinting on his soul. Breathless, your lips find each other’s, molding together perfectly as you slowly come down; bodies covered in a sheen of sweat that makes you glow.

You whimper as you untangle from each other, immediately missing his warmth. Bucky tied off the condom, getting up to toss it in the small bin beside the desk. The wiggle of his butt made a smile form on your face that grew as he got back into bed, the weight of his arm curling around you and pulling you close against him. Bucky’s fingertips stroked your skin as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. His lips pressing a kiss to your forehead as you rubbed his chest, humming softly as your spent body relaxed into his.

“Tired?” he asked through a rasped whisper. You hummed in response and Bucky adjusted the blankets over you. “Go to sleep, I’ve got you.” The breath of his murmurs fall gently against your head.

Reaching to the side he clicked off the table lamp. In the darkness his lips found yours a final time, stealing a sweet kiss before you adjusted yourself against him again. Your palm rested above his heart and Bucky wondered if you could feel the way it was still beating with elation. He covered your hand with his, hearing you let out a soft hum as you smiled against him.

The bed is warm, made warmer with your bodies tangled together. Bucky listens in silence to the gentle sounds you make as you drift asleep. He syncs his breath with yours, turning his head ever so slightly to place a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead. The rhythm of his heart relaxes to a beat he’s never felt before, one that fills his body and soul with a warm and fuzzy feeling that makes him feel like he would float away if you weren’t resting on him.

A smile secured itself on Bucky’s face as he fell asleep realizing that this feeling might actually be love.

You woke up feeling like last night was a dream, but the weight of Bucky behind you brought you quickly back to reality, one you never imagined would be yours.

His arm was wrapped around your waist keeping your bodies close, a shocking difference of the Bucky you knew that kicked his late night lovers out as quickly as possible. Then again Bucky isn’t that person anymore.

He was still asleep, feeling the breath from his nose against the back of your neck and as much as you needed to get up you stayed in bed for as long as possible, cherishing every moment spent in his arms.

You sensed when he woke up not long after. Bucky inhaled deeply, letting out a soft hum.

“Hey neighbor,” you whispered softly, rubbing his arm that was draped across your waist.

He tightened his hold, squeezing you even closer, smiling at the faint scent of perfume that lingered on your neck. You squirmed as he nuzzled the tip of his cold nose into it, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your skin.

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he rasped.

You tilted your head back, trying to get a glimpse of him but it was easier to turn around completely. Bucky still held you as you twisted to face him, staring up at his beautiful half-sleepy smile and soft gaze that shined like the sun as he looked at you.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his fingers lightly tracing your face. You nodded, a smile pulling so strong as your eyes beamed with happiness. “Good.”

He kissed you sweetly, soft pecks for your sake that were mindful of the morning breath he felt. He should get up to brush his teeth but Bucky didn’t want to, instead he rested his head against your shoulder, curling himself around you and smiling when he felt your arms wrap around him.

Bucky never knew how badly he missed a feeling he never had, feeling comforted in someone’s arms. He never knew how amazing it was to wake up with someone, to cuddle with them, hold them and be held. He’s slept with countless people but no amount of sex has ever equaled what he felt in this moment.

He could scold himself for missing out on this for so long but he doesn’t, because now he has the opportunity to share all these firsts with you and he hopes you’ll be his last.

The scratch of your nails running lazily through his hair made Bucky practically purr against you, the simple act awakening all of his senses, igniting his body in a way that could only be quenched by the heat of your skin against his.

He smirks at the memory of your taste, lifting his gaze to find the coy smile curving your lips. It seems he’s not the only one craving more exploration of each other’s bodies. Bucky reaches forward to bring his lips to yours, morning breath be damned. Neither of you cared anyway, quickly giving in to the flames of desire that spread like wildfire through your bodies.

It’s different now, when the morning sun reveals more truth in Bucky eyes, in the way he looks deep into your own as you climb the heights of passion together. Fingers entwined, breathless moans falling from his mouth, foreheads pressed together as he claims your lips, holding your body tightly as you fall apart around him as if this would all disappear if he let go. Every look, every touch; that was the difference. Bucky was giving every part of himself to you, opening up in a way he had never done before with anyone.

His hips stuttered as he climaxed, crying out with a groan that softened as your hands cupped his cheeks, stealing what little breath he had left as you brought your lips to his. He smiled against you, catching his breath in between soft kisses.

Bucky was quick to discard the condom and reclaim his spot beside you, opening his arms for you to cuddle close against him, keeping you warm as the aftershocks of pleasure shudder through your body. His hand rubbed circles on your back and the press of his lips on your forehead made you exhale through a content smile.

You stayed in his arms for as long as you could before desperately needing to use the bathroom, with Bucky laughing as you untangled your legs from his and the covers, sprinting naked off the bed. He laid back, arms folded under his head unable to contain his smile. This weekend has been greater than anything he could have ever dreamed of and the best is yet to come.

You scurry out of the bathroom towards your bag, throwing on a t-shirt for modesty before pulling out the clothes you would be changing into. Bucky watched as the sun streaming in through the window glowed around you, the angel that broke the confines of his heart.

There was less of a rush to the rest of the morning, having missed breakfast but still having time before you needed to check out. You checked your phone in between changing, seeing a flurry of messages come in from the group chat, plus Wanda and Steve sending separate ones to check in.

You heard Bucky get up from the bed but didn’t turn around because it still felt awkward. A good awkward as the butterflies in your stomach were still fluttering wildly, bit still whatever this was between you was undefined and you didn’t want to presume anything.

“Hey…” Bucky began slowly, and turning around you saw he was fully dressed except for his sneakers, hands in the pockets of his jeans with his shoulders shrugged up.

He looked like a little kid who thought he might be in trouble and it made you feel good to know you weren’t the only one who didn’t know how to act around each other. When you flashed him a smile Bucky relaxed, letting the tension go from his shoulders. He reached his hands out to take yours, holding both of them close to his heart.

Letting out a nervous breath he said, “Y/N, I want you to know that I meant what I said last night, every word.” Your smile slowly reached your eyes as he spoke. “And I never expected us to…” Bucky licked his lips, looking down as he felt his cheeks begin to flush at the memory of what happened. “It was incredible, you’re incredible, but maybe we could take things slow?”

Bucky raised his eyebrows, sincerity woven through an unease smile as he waited for an answer. But he didn’t have to wait long. You nodded quickly, never losing eye contact as you smiled, reassuring him you could take things at whatever pace he needed. Bucky kissed your knuckles before letting your hands go, surprised to feel them around him instantly in a hug that dissolved any lingering concerns he had about his request.

Any awkward tension had dissipated by the time you pulled away, leaving nothing but the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the sound of your stomach hangrily rumbling. Bucky chuckled, feeling his own about to rival yours in volume so he sifted through the bag from your initial CVS run to find something to eat.

You satisfied your hunger with a protein bar each, splitting some almonds and topping it off with sparkling water, that you still worried would explode upon opening by the way Bucky quickly pulled it from the small fridge. Eating as you packed, you made sure nothing was left in the room. Bucky packed your dress up with his suit again and when you were ready he arranged an Uber to the train station.

Walking hand in hand to the elevator, Bucky stole an innocent kiss, unable to help himself. He wanted to show you just how much he cared now that the truth he held back for so long was finally out there. His affectionate touches continued all the way home, as Bucky slung his arm over you during the ride back to Manhattan.

“Wanna go out for some lunch?” he asked, as you approached your apartment building.

You nodded approvingly, listing a slew of places you could go for since breakfast wasn’t actually filling. Bucky opened the front door for you, resuming the placement of his fingers laced with yours once you were both inside.

The air in the building felt different, as if the walls themselves were watching you, whispering about what might be happening between two of their residents. The elevator opened, taking you to your floor with a jerking gasp when you and Bucky kissed inside of it.

Your bags were dropped off in your respective apartments, taking the elevator back down just as quickly as you came up to go for lunch, which was actually going to be breakfast. Bucky suggested a spot a few blocks away you had been to once before, an unassuming deli with an all day breakfast menu, though you hadn’t had the pleasure of trying their well known breakfast fare. You were looking forward to stuffing yourself sweet French toast and sugary syrup, hoping to spend the rest of the day lounging in Bucky’s arms.

“Bucky! Hey!” A woman's voice pulled you away from your lazy Sunday daydream.

You both turned around at the woman who just jogged past you, stopping to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

She was taller than average, showing off lean legs of unblemished light brown skin in the athletic shorts she wore. A large sweat stain soaked through the front of her grey tank top, her long dark hair a little messy but not really out of place.

“C-Claire?” Bucky stuttered, not expecting to run into her let alone remember her name. “Hey…”

“Sorry I didn’t get back to you. The hospital put me on night shifts the past week, it’s been hard to adjust. We still on for Saturday night?”

Sound was ringing in your ear like a bomb exploded in front of you and it had, in the form of Bucky being a lying scumbag. His snake like words charmed his way into your heart as a ploy to take off your pants and you complied with ease.

When the world was no longer a muffled haze you realized you and Bucky were alone again, with Claire probably continuing her work out; she has to look good for her date with Bucky at the end of the week. Maybe he was “taking it slow” with her too. You bit your lip before the quiver could show, feeling like an idiot for not knowing better. Bucky didn’t change and he never would.

“I’m so sorry about that. I never– ”

You were done with hearing any more of Bucky’s lies, retorting with one of your own.

“Shit! I just realized I was supposed to help Wanda finish unpacking today. She’s gonna kill me, I gotta run.”

You didn’t give Bucky the chance to speak, ignoring the way he pleaded for you to come back. Taking off towards the nearest subway, you ran down the stairs as fast as you could, at risk of tripping thanks to the tears that flooded your eyes. Wanda’s new place was much closer, and after a few quick stops you were in front of her door, sobbing heavily as you fell into her arms.

PART 21

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes smut

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jackarychaoti · 3 years

Text

DWC2021-10 - Feast/Sleepless

- [ MUSIC ] -

“I’m dying, Jackary.”

The words caught the beast off guard as he strolled through the quiet forest of Teldrassil, barefoot and allowing his ever-present trail of flowers to flow in his wake. Next to the tall blond had been a far shorter elf-shaped man, armed to the teeth in weaponry and dressed in form-fitting leather. While they were a stark contrast to one another, the words alone had drawn Jackary to a standstill.

“I... What?”

It was right after a family feast, right after a great speech had been given about coming changes and freedom and how deeply the rogue appreciated the family he had built over the years. The pair had been laughing together, reminiscing about the past... And suddenly…

Suddenly it made sense.

“Don’t fuck around with me like that, Lok’,” Jack couldn’t help but awkwardly laugh as if it was some stupid joke that his cousin had decided to drop. If he, in his early life, was a sigil of life, his best friend was the sigil of death. They complimented each other, they went everywhere together. Of all things, Lokitan was the reason Jack wound up in Azeroth in the first place.

“I wish I could,” Loki hummed, slowing to a standstill where he could finally light a cigarette he’d fetched and drew in a deep inhale, calming the nerves that were rising in the conversation at hand.”I am fadin’ away and I can feel it, won’t be long now.”

Jack stood silently in disbelief, the reason they had gone walking through an Alliance claimed territory wasn’t to simply ruffle some feathers, it was because it was where their journey had begun together. It was made clear when Jack looked anywhere but at his cousin, realizing he was in the near exact spot he’d appeared in his own crash landing.

‘So, what? You brought me out here to--”

“To say goodbye, yeah.” Cutting off the emerald, Lokitan lifted a crimson eye upward, staring for a long moment. He gave a small smirk. “It’ll be alright, you’ll be fine.”

Would he?

Claws pushed through Jack's long, unruly locks of hair to pull them back and up into a ponytail, keeping the weighted tresses from his face while it gave him time to think, “So just like that, you’re… You’re gone then. When--?” As he questioned just how long Lokitan had left, when he turned to face his cousin, he could already see parts of the rogue turning brittle, fluttering away in the faint, cool breeze around them like nothing more than ash.

“We have outstayed our welcome, you and I.” Lokitan drew in another slow inhale of his cigarette, pondering over what he wanted his final words to be. “We’ve also been through a lot, ever since we were little. We always got into so much shit, heh...” The shadowed dragon smirked to himself, baring a set of fangs in amusement. Bittersweet really, that it was to be Jackary he spent his final moments with when it had also been Jack that helped bring him into the world to cause chaos.

“Do you have any regrets…?” Jack asked quietly, finding himself fidgeting with his own fingers.

“A few,” Loki replied rather abruptly, wetting his lips while his vision raised to look up at the trees above, noting the stars beyond the greenery. “I regret not coming sooner to help you that night, I regret you binding your wings to service. I regret falling in love…” He trailed off at that point, seeming less inclined to want to discuss it.

Jack frowned further, still attempting to wrap his head around what was happening, and yet there he stood, speaking casually with the man that may as well have been his own brother, they were of flesh and blood. Two princes that ran away from home and carried their heritage only by name. Chaoti meant nothing in Azeroth. Jaden and Heran meant nothing, either. They were just names, something no one even blinked at. And of all of the travels the two had been through, the endless adventures or bickering or laughter or beauty or horror, suddenly it was just… ending.

Just like that.

Everything had an ending, certainly, but…

“Don’t leave me…”

Lokitan barked out a bout of laughter at that, smiling as he glanced over to Jackary, though he could see just how much the Emerald was hurting. Such caused that smile to falter. “I can’t stay…”

“You can....” Jack furrowed, shaking his head a bit before throwing his hand out to the side. “You of all people can stay! You can’t leave me..! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” The voice echoed through the quiet trees, ruffling the feathers of a few birds that flitted away, the echo faded soon after.

“Jackary... Don’t make this harder than it is.”

“No! Fuck you! Fuck you,” Jack inhaled a bit, eyes narrowed when the unnatural sting formed in their corners. Each motion became a pacing step back and forth, his hair swayed behind him. Flowers and grass only further grew outward from his position only to die once close enough to the stand-still rogue. “You brought me here. We came here together, I came here for YOU, WITH YOU! We promised each other we’d never leave one another’s side, you fucking LIAR! You promised, Lokitan Jaden! YOU PROMISED ME!”

Watching the Emerald struggle with anything brought on the protective nature of the small Infinite. Through the beast’s rapidly increased pacing, a hand reached over to suddenly grab Jack’s arm to yank him over and downward into a tight hug.

Loki never hugged anyone.

“Jackary…” He whispered softly, fondly in the captured drake’s ear. “You have been the only one in our family, our past, or history that has ever shown me kindness and love. You’ve had endless patience, you’ve also been a complete fuckwit and you deserve that scar on your chin for what you did, but… You’re going to be okay. You’re going to move forward from this and you will find a new life, a new love, and a new family. You will find people you belong to… Beyond our name, beyond our past transgressions…. Someday you’ll forget about the horrors..”

“I don’t want to…” When had Jackary hugged back? When had he been hunching and clinging so tightly that he could hear the groaning echoes of the leather giving way to the grasp? “Please, I’ve had you with me all my life… Please… I need someone to keep me sane, to keep me in check. Please don't go.”

“You’ll find someone who will stand up to you and your bullshit. You’ll find a warm home again. I know this…” Lokitan sank faintly into the larger male’s grip, feeling the weakening sensation growing even more. “I know this because you have an air about you and people will find you addictive to be around. Keep your wings... Keep your wings and soar…”

“Don’t make me stay here alone…” Nails bit into the leathers, though with every passing second, he could feel the tension of a body between his arms begin to wilt and crumble, he couldn’t even look. He couldn’t bring himself to see Lokitan fade away. A man who had saved his life and who had saved him from the horrors of his ex-wife. His best friend.

“I love you, Jackary Heran.”

Those were the final words that escaped before arms found themselves collapsing around nothing but an ash pile of leathers and knives. The weaponry clanked when it hit the forest floor, leaving the black dust to cling to Jackary’s figure.

When had he dropped to his knees?

When had it become so dark?

When had rain gradually washed the ash from his skin?

When had Loki known he was going to die and why hadn’t he told Jackary about it?

Rock after rock, stone after stone, a small, unmarked grave was built, tucked away where no adventurer could find it unless they knew where to look. A sleepless night was spent marking the spot where the rogue had finally fallen.

When had this happened?

When did the memory of it start to fade?

A grave that would be of importance later, but that was for another story.

| - @daily-writing-challenge - |

#DWC2021 #DWC 10 #I heard yall wanted some backstory before azeroth and before he met the tarts #jackary #lokitan #jack and loki #Shit's gonna be out of order like a flashback book from hell but here we go

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airis-paris14 · 3 years

Text

Wonder What She Thinks Epilogue

Summary: She learns to put herself first and he loses the best thing he ever had.

A/N: A new chapter of Starlight coming up next.

Warnings: None

Masterlist

It's Never Wrong When You're In Love...

I haven’t felt this type of thing in a while. I thought I lost myself in love until I found you.

- “Natural” Sabrina Claudio

I’m telling you right now from this day on, I’ve already weighed out the pros and cons, your just the woman I want.”

-"4evermore" Anthony David (ft. Algebra)

“Mrs. Jordan,” Michael leaned over and whispered in his bride’s ear. “Yes, Mr. Jordan?” Zoe beamed as she and her new husband waited for their cue to walk into the reception party. “You look absolutely breathtaking today. Coming down that aisle I was watching you like hot damn that’s my lady,” Michael grinned as Zoe slapped his arm, laughter falling from her lips. “Shut up, you were crying too,” the bride reminded, allowing Michael to wrap his arm around her waist.

“Yeah but that was the internal monologue,” he insisted as one of the tech workers handed each of them a microphone. The intro to “4evermore” by Anthony David began to blare on the other side of the banquet hall doors. “You ready?”

Zoe nodded and took her husband's hand. The doors opened on cue and the couple walked in belting their respective parts of the song.

“Forever’s a mighty long time but I really wanna spend it with you. I shine when you shine. There's really no substitute. 4evermore,”

The two danced around each other singing along with the track. The audience joined in clapping as the newlyweds continued their performance. “I’m making my plans just to be with you. It’s you and me, babe, till the days are through, And I ain’t ashamed, love, to say I do,” Michael crooned

They went through the chorus again before Zoe got her chance to shine, consequently surprising the guests who’d never heard her sing, “Pick a tree to carve our names, let the world know it’s not a game. Last longer than a wedding ring, generations tattooed with the love we bring. From the seeds we sow, to the time it takes to grow. Long enough to show you, I won’t let go of you. Without you, I'm incomplete, like this love song without this beat. I’m saying you are the man I need,” Zoe sang causing the crowd to erupt in cheers.

“I didn’t know Zoe could sing,” Shuri leaned over to her brother who was carrying both of his children in his arms. “She doesn’t often, but she’s great,” he nodded, trying to stop the regret flooding through his veins by bouncing his fussy two, almost, three-year-olds. He watched as their mother spun and sang with her husband. A man that wasn’t him. A man who was making her laugh and having fun on the dance floor as Camden started the rap verse in the song. His attention was then pulled to Nakia, as she laughed and danced on the sidelines of the dance floor cheering on Zoe and Michael with the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for the new Mr. And Mrs. Michael B. Jordan. That was the best wedding entrance I’ve ever seen,” the DJ announced as the crowd began settling back in their seats. Zoe-Iman laughed as Michael handed over their mics and pulled her in close for their first dance. “I’m serious, who giving the new Mrs. Jordan a record deal, cause sis got some mad pipes. I know all this money in here, there’s gotta be a music exec looking for fresh talent. But, imma get off my soapbox so this new union can enjoy their first dance as husband and wife.”

Soon, “Butterflies Pt.2” by Queen Naija was drifting from the speakers as Michael gently swayed with his new wife, the couple singing along softly to each other. “You going to ask Nakia to dance?” Shuri caught her brother’s attention as she grabbed her niece from his arms. Not wanting to be left behind, Meluzmi began wriggling from his father’s arms to get down to the floor with his sister. “I don’t think Nakia wants to talk to me.” The king glanced again at his ex-wife dancing with Camden. “Nonsense, you all were friends first,” Ramonda interrupted, stooping to kiss both of her grandchildren. “That is why your father, and hers, thought you would make a great match.”

“You all are running the country well together, for over a year now.” Shuri pointed out smiling as the toddlers began bopping along to the song with each other. “Business conversations do not mean she will want to dance with me. Besides, she seems like she is having a good time with Camden.”

Shuri shook her head, “I’m taking the twins to dance, Mama, do something with him please,” the now 19-year old shook her head and headed towards the floor as the song shifted, signaling that other couples could join the wedding party on the floor. “Dance with me,” Ramonda extended a hand and the son turned king accepted and escorted her onto the floor.

“You know,” the queen mother started a few seconds later, “the first time you brought Zoe home, I was sure that within a year or two, you’d be telling your father you wanted to marry her.”

T’Challa smiled, “I was that obvious?”

Ramonda chuckled, “Painfully. You were looking at her like a lovesick fool the whole time she was there. Your father tried several times to give you his permission to date him. Even blatantly asking if you all were dating, but you were so stubborn.”

T’Challa looked away and swallowed, “It was not my finest hour and it will forever remain one of my biggest regrets, but I am happy for her.”

“You are, but you are also jealous. Zoe gave you plenty of chances, she even bore your children T’Challa but you were so stubborn, you lost your chance. Now that she’s happy, you should try to find happiness of your own. If not with Nakia, try again with someone. Don’t spend your life believing these were the only two women who could ever have been a great wife. Zoe found her happiness, Nakia is working on hers, it’s time you find your own.”

“Umama-” the king started. “Happiness outside of your children T’Challa, you need adult company too. Company you actually like, the elders don’t count.”

The king sighed and glanced across the room, “I’d like to try again, but I fear I will always wonder what Nakia and Zoe think of her.”

“That is your problem, you always wonder what everyone else is thinking, son.”

“You loved Zoe, but you were so afraid that we would hate her, you hid her and lost her. You had feelings for Nakia, but you wondered what she would think about what you had done to Zoe, so you pushed her away. Stop wondering what one girl will think about the other. Find your happiness, then bring her around. You always attract wonderful people, and we all always love each other. Think about it son, who else’s ex-wife is good friends with the woman her husband was cheating and had children with?”

Ramonda laughed, watching Zoe and Nakia dance with the rest of the wedding party. The king joined in chuckling as his mother continued, “Stop pitting the women against each other before they can even meet. Just let yourself fall in love freely son. We just want you to be happy.”

Zoe instinctively held her head further back as a smirk crossed her new husband’s lips. “Now, Michael, this is a very expensive white dress-”

“And you look beautiful baby-,” he raised his hand with a piece of cake in it closer to Zoe’s face. “Michael,” Zoe whined as his smirk turned into a full-on grin, “What? I’m just trying to feed my beautiful wife.”

“No, you are not!” Zoe laughed and dodged Michael’s hand, “I don’t wanna ruin my makeup, I paid a lot for it,” the bride pouted. “Fine,” the groom sighed, “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Thank you,” Zoe beamed and allowed him to feed her the piece of cake, she leaned in, kissed his lips, and smashed the piece of cake and icing onto his face, “Gotcha,” she cackled as Michael wiped icing from his mouth. The guests doubled over in laughter as he wrapped a giggling Zoe up in his arms and shook her. “You play dirty,” he laughed. “Mama!” two voices cried out as Ka’aulani and Meluzmi ran to their mom and stepfather. “Cake,” Meluzmi pleaded and his twin nodded her head in agreement. “Okay baby, “Zoe smiled. Michael cut them two small pieces and handed Zoe a plate. The caterers took over cutting up the rest of the large cake for the couple as they led their children over to the main table.

Michael took his self-proclaimed best friend Meluzmi in his lap and let him try and figure out how to spear the soft pieces of dessert, before eventually helping him out. Not wanting her daughter to ruin her dress or hair, Zoe still couldn't understand how so much of the toddler’s meals ended up in her curls, the mother alternated between feeding the toddler and herself. The small family sat sharing cake in silence, bobbing softly to the beat of Kiss Me More while watching their guests tear it up on the dance floor and fight over pieces of cake. “There you two are!” Shuri sighed obviously frustrated, “ T’Challa is gonna kill me, he wanted me to keep them so you could enjoy yourself.”

“Girl,” Zoe dismissed. “He will be fine. My babies just wanted some cake and their mommy.”

On cue, the twins giggled. “Are you having fun?”

Shuri shrugged, I’m just glad to see you happy,” The teen admitted. “Yeah but you’re young, you should be out dancing, and not with two-year-olds.”

“I got a cousin, he’s 20, but I think y’all get along great,” Michael grinned and called the boy over. As predicted he and Shuri hit it off and as the party forged ahead, the couple saw the two dancing and shared a fist bump. “We’re definitely the matchmaking couple,” Zoe beamed.

As the party began to wind down hours later, T’Challa approached the couple for the second time that day and cleared his throat. “My mother and I were about to leave, I was gonna take the twins,” the king gestured towards the children sleeping peacefully, each spread over two chairs pushed together. “Oh okay, thank you for coming and babysitting,” Zoe Iman Jordan hugged her former best friend, ex-lover, and the father of her children, “I’m gonna go say goodnight to mama,” she squeezed Michael’s hand before leaving in search of the older matriarch. “I’ll help you grab the kids, '' Michael broke the silence.

T’Challa nodded and they grabbed the slobbering children from their makeshift beds and headed out of the venue to the cars. Once both twins were buckled, they leaned against the car awaiting the women’s arrival. “Michael thank you.”

“For what?” The actor turned to the monarch. “For loving Zoe and for bringing the light back to her life. For taking care of her and loving my children as your own, even when I wasn’t man enough to do the same.”

Michael nodded, “You know for the longest I hated you. I didn’t understand how one man could be so self-involved he couldn’t see how amazing of a woman he had right in his hand. I hated that you messed with Zoe’s head, made her second guess herself. Then I finally got her to a good place, she opened up, we were having a good time, then she found out she was pregnant. You wouldn’t even text her back about your own kids.” T’Challa nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, “If I could do it all again, I would do it differently believe me.”

I know,” the groom agreed, “but everything happens for a reason. I don’t approve of what you did, but if you had been a good partner, I probably wouldn’t be married to the love of my life right now. So I forgive you. And those kids, they are like my own. I am beyond glad that you’ve stepped up for them. I want them to have their father and a bonus father in their lives. You stay involved and love them, then there are no hard feelings between us.” The acclaimed actor extended a hand and T’Challa accepted his handshake. “You have my word, I’m never leaving them again.”

“Good.” Michael leaned back against the car and crossed his legs, hands stuffed in his tuxedo pockets. “So what’s next for you?” He asked a few beats later.

T’Challa exhaled, “I’m not sure, but I do know I wanna get my life back on track. Find someone and treat her right.”

“Then you do that man,” they stood up off of the car as Ramonda approached. “I just wonder what she’ll think of this family. It’s all a little bizarre isn’t it?”

“Yeah most baby mamas and ex-wives aren’t best friends, especially under our circumstances, but if she loves you and you love her, there’ll always be room in the family.”

“I appreciate that Michael.”

“Shuri staying with Nakia?” The actor asked when the queen mother reached the car. “Yes, she and your cousin have taken quite a liking to each other,” Ramonda raised an eyebrow. “You know me and Zoe will watch out for her,” Michael reassured. “I know, that is the only reason I’m letting her stay,” Ramonda answered.

“We’ll get her back to you safely later tonight. I promise,” The actor shoved his hands in his pocket and stepped back. “I guess we better get going then-”

“Wait,” Zoe walked out of the venue over to the car. “I didn’t get to kiss my babies goodbye,” the mother pouted. Michael laughed as T’Challa rolled his eyes. “Boy, don’t roll your eyes at me before they get stuck like that.” She slapped his chest before opening the car doors and kissing both of her toddlers.”

“Okay, we will swing by to pick them up after we get back. And you have everything packed for them right? You have Meluzmi’s inhaler, and enough clothes and replacement outfits? You got the earplugs too right? They hate heights and the sounds of the plane's engines when-”

“Zoe they will be fine. T’Challa reassured. “And if I don’t have it, you know my mother will make sure they get it. They will be fine. I can do this,” The king grabbed both of her hands and squeezed them gently. “I know, I know,” the young mother sighed, “This is just the longest I have been away from them ever and I’m nervous.” Michael moved up to wrap an arm around his wife’s waist and press a kiss to her forehead. “ Everything will be fine,” he soothed. “I know-”

“Then stop worrying,” T’Challa offered a sad smile, “You deserve this, to be happy, to have a break, to enjoy your honeymoon. You are an excellent mother Zoe, but they have a father too. So enjoy your break, enjoy your marriage. I promise they will be just as alive and happy as they are now when you get back from your trip.”

Zoe nodded and sighed, finally stepping back from the car with Michael at her side. “Okay, see you in three weeks. Thank you all again.”

“Anytime, you know I love my grandbabies.” Ramonda hugged the bride once more before closing the door facing the twins and taking a seat in the backseat next to them. “Ayy, Mike, it’s almost time for the garter toss,” Two of the groomsmen waved the couple over but T’Challa reached for Zoe’s hand. “Can we talk?”

Zoe nodded at her husband letting him know she was okay, he looked the king over once more before heading inside to watch from the doorway. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted you to know that you were right.”

“About what?” the bride squinted. “About deserving to be with someone who can say they love you in and out of the bedroom. You deserve someone who loves you out loud, and I’m glad you found it in Michael.”

Zoe smiled softly, “Thank you. I hope you find the same for yourself. We both deserve someone.”

“I think I already did but I kind of fucked it up...twice,” the king chuckled. “I’ll keep you updated on that front though.”

Zoe Iman nodded. T’Challa gestured to the doorway, “I think you better go though, your husband hasn’t stopped watching.” Zoe laughed, glancing over her shoulder at Michael who was, sure enough, watching from the door. “Yeah... Goodbye T’Challa.” Zoe pulled the king in for a hug before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodbye, Zoe… I love you,” he sighed once she had walked off out of earshot.

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stxrrywildflower · 3 years

Text

can’t help falling in love (five)

pairing - george weasley x reader

summary - you invite george to be your date to your sisters wedding

warnings - mentions of family/home issues

word count - 2.3k

series masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

george did everything in his power to take your mind off of the events at the wedding. his words still stuck in your mind, touching you far too deeply for you to forget.

you strolled around downtown london for a few hours before the reception, stopping in different shops along the way. george found a couple things he picked up for future pranks that you couldn’t find easily in the wizard world.

but you couldn’t avoid the inevitable event, you had to make an appearance at some point; your parents and other general family were already asking to catch up during the reception.

george pulled you aside before you could enter the building, the two of you finding yourself in one of the many side gardens.

“are you sure you’re okay with this? we don’t have to go,” george inquired.

you smiled softly at his concern. “i should be fine, george. it’s just dinner and then some partying. nothing i can’t handle.”

george nodded, clearly satisfied with your answer. “say the word and we’ll leave, okay?”

you squeezed his hands. “of course.”

upon entering, you were immediately ushered to your table by one of the waiters. george pulled your chair out for you, a comment about him being a gentleman rolling off of your tongue easily.

you were seated at the table with a few of your cousins who you, thankfully, got along well with. george was already starting up a conversation with one of them about their mutual love for jokes and making people laugh

as dinner was being served after your sister and jasper had entered, you felt yourself slowly easing into the environment. george played a key role in this, him taking time to glance over at you during his conversations to check on you and make sure you were okay. it was a simple enough gesture, but to you it meant the world.

you and george lingered towards the back as the tradition reception activities went on after dinner; speeches, cutting the cake, first dance. you much rather preferred to be out of ear range of most people, listening to the jokes george was making in your ear about everyone.

once the first dance was over, other people slowly started making their way to the main dance floor to join the wedding party.

you lingered back, not quite looking to jump at the opportunity to join them. that was, of course, until a certain song started playing.

george took note of your sudden behavioral change, looking down on you with a raised eyebrow.

“what song is this?”

you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face from it. “it’s called can’t help falling in love. it’s by a muggle artist, elvis presley actually. it’s one of my favorites.”

“well then let’s go,” george jumped up, extending his hands out towards you.

you quirked an eyebrow at his actions, only slightly confused at his actions. george sighed, pulling you up to your feet and towards him.

“it would be rude of me to deny the prettiest girl here a dance to her favorite song,” he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

a blush spread across your cheeks as you bit your lip to hide your wide smile from the compliment. “alright,” you agreed. “let’s dance.”

george led you to the main dance floor, guiding you forward before turning you around to face him. his hand made his way to your hip, resting comfortably as the other went out to interlock with yours to the side. “this okay?” he asked to which you nodded. “perfect actually.”

you rested your head against george’s shoulder, humming along to the words of the song.

the rest of the room was soon forgotten; the moment feeling as though it was only you and george. no one else mattered, just you two wrapped up with each other as you slow danced.

tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. you weren’t sad, far from it if anything, but just the way george was treating you made you emotional.

george took note of this, his fingers moving to hook under your chin, effectively tilting your head up to look at him.

“what’s wrong, darling?”

“nothing,” you answered. “i’m just really happy right now, especially since i’m with you.”

the last part, possibly a stroke of confidence on your end, hit george like a bolt of lightning. every feeling, every emotion he felt about you weighed in; your laughs, your jokes, your personality, everything.

he held you a little closer to him, resting his head against yours as you swayed.

“so why do you like this song so much?”

“i don’t know,” you answered quietly. “i guess it became my definition of love. you haven’t heard it ever before besides now but it’s from the point of view of a guy who sings about a girl he’s meant to be with and can’t help falling in love with.”

george hummed, “it’s sweet.”

“i always get goosebumps from it,” you stated. “something about the melody always gets me.”

his fingertips ghosted across your skin, feeling the little tiny goosebumps as he ran them across. “you weren’t lying,” he spoke.

you shook your head, tilting it up a moment later to look at him. “one-hundred percent telling the truth.”

george leaned down to press his forehead against yours, noses just barely touching. your eyes fluttered shut, focusing on the contact between you two. you could feel his breath hot on your skin, just millimeters away from your lips.

you wanted to lean in, to stop dancing around the constant flirting and barely platonic touches and finally seal the deal. but you knew you couldn’t, it wouldn’t be okay to do without george agreeing; in no way did you want to overstep your boundaries.

george had to have felt something too, his face flushing a deep red as you turned your cheek, pressing it back into his shoulder.

the final chords of the song were playing out, signaling the end of the group of slow songs. you frowned, only slightly sad that your time slow dancing with george would be ending soon. sure more could be played later in the night, but who knew how much longer you would be in attendance.

“do you want to get out of here? maybe go talk?” george ducked down to whisper in your ear.

you nodded against george’s shoulder, “that sounds nice.”

you bid a quick goodbye to a few guests, primarily your sister and parents; passing on a simple ‘congratulations’ at the new chapter in her life. there was no signs that the party would be ending soon, but the conversation with george took importance over all of that.

george grabbed his jacket off of the chair, slinging it over his shoulder before meeting back up with you to guide you out.

the venue was right on the serpentine lake, overlooking the water and various reflections of the city and trees.

you walked along the water for a bit, george holding your hand as you strolled. neither of you could deny the moment you had whole dancing, it was clear both of you had felt at least something. you just didn’t know what to say.

“do you want to stop here? i think we’re a good distance away,” george offered.

you hummed, already moving to take a seat down on the soft grass. true to his words, the spot was a fair amount from the venue. the lights still illuminated sections of the water in the distance, but no music or small talk could be heard.

“so are we going to talk about it? or are we just going to tip-toe around it like we’ve been doing all weekend.”

george took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for his next word choice. he drew his knees up to his chest before speaking.

“i love you y/n.”

you froze, not quite sure if you had heard the words george spoke correctly.

“and you don’t have to say it back, merlin i don’t even know if you feel the same way but i just can’t keep it in anymore.”

for once, you were out of words. love was such a foreign feeling to you. hearing it from your best friend was even more alien.

“you love me?” you spoke after a moment.

george nodded, hand moving up to swipe away a few stray tears that had fallen. “have for a long time. i just haven’t ever said anything. i always thought it was something that would go away, that i could eventually get over it.”

his voice had fallen off at the end, pressing his cheek to his knees as he turned away from you. despite the amount of times you had reassured him, george hated crying in front of you.

you reached out to place your hand on top of his, immediately retracing when he flinched away. not once in the time of you knowing him had george ever jerked away from a small gesture like that.

“george, you could have talked to me. you know that.”

george choked out a half sob-half laugh at your response. “and say what y/n? tell you i’m in love with you, just like that? fuck, i don’t even know how you would have reacted. on no level would it be fair to you to ruin our friendship over some feelings i can’t contain anymore.”

the wave of silence washed over you once again like the tide; george’s words being pushed out as your feelings were finally pulled in.

george was your best friend, no doubt about it. you’d spent your most defining years together, playing games and pulling pranks as well as celebrating anything and everything from holidays to good grades.

but he was different than his twin; you found his compassion more endearing, his care more comforting. his love language versus his twins hit deeper.

every single moment with george was special in its own way, never dull in the slightest. you were so dumbfounded on how you hadn’t seen anything in his emotions before.

you loved george.

“i would have said it back,” you mumbled.

george’s head slowly rised to meet your eyes, concern still laced in his facial structure. he didn’t want to get his hopes up, multiple layers to your words still being unveiled.

“that i love you, i mean,” you clarified. “i guess this trip has made me truly realize it.”

everything you said you meant, there was no a doubt in your mind about it. if you were being honest, it was the one thing you were the most sure of in your life.

“i’m scared georgie,” you quickly admitted. “terrified actually. i’ve never felt like this before.”

george shifted closer to you, though he didn’t make the initiative to hold your hand or wrap a comforting arm around you. he didn’t want to push his boundaries, especially after you had both admitted your mutual feelings for each other.

“and that’s perfectly understandable, love. it’s new to me too. we can learn together.”

you turned to george, tears in your eyes mirroring the ones in his own. with just one blink, the flow had started. george reached out to thumb your tears away. “god we’re so dumb, why did we wait so long?” you questioned.

george laughed, shaking his head slightly at your words. “well i mean, we’re dumb kids in love. i don’t think either of us expected this to happen tonight.”

with that, you broke out laughing too; a grin passing over your face. everything felt near perfect in that moment, like you were finally content with your inner emotions.

“can i kiss you?”

you nodded, “yeah.”

george leaned forward first, hand moving up to hold your cheek before pressing his lips to yours. warmth spread throughout you immediately, the feeling unknown to you, though not a bad thing by any means.

it was only slightly awkward at first, it taking you both a bit to adjust to the other person. your heart was pounding in your chest, only finding the ability to concentrate how soft, how good george’s lips felt on your own.

you reluctantly pulled away first, finding yourself out of breath and needing air. george kept his eyes trained on you, wanting to make sure the entire sequence wasn’t a dream. it felt too good to be true, something that would have happened in a different lifetime. but here he was, lips puffed out and slightly red.

george pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. it was just you and him at this moment, the party in the distance being far from your minds. all that mattered to you was him, and the same for george.

after a delicate kiss to your bare shoulder, george slowly moved his hands down to your waist, guiding you slowly to press your back against the grass.

“is this okay?” george asked as he cupped your face gently.

you brought your hand up to cover his, running your thumb back and forth over the back of his hand, humming gently to confirm your comfort.

with that, george leaned down to kiss you again, body partially covering yours as you leaned up to reach more of him.

it was pure bliss - finally being able to kiss the boy you had been, without even realizing it, pinning over since first year. your feelings had been burried down over many years of friendship, you being too scared to admit that you were even in love with him.

sure a relationship, especially with george, was still something you were extremely new and nervous with, but george made you the best version of yourself, made you feel safe; george felt like home.

“i love you so so much,” george mumbled against your lips. “you have no idea how happy you make me.”

a giggle escaped your mouth, heart feeling full at his words.

“i love you too.”

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

tagging - @goldenxreid @wilburxpancakes @sunlightgalaxy @criminaly-supernatural @blakes-dictionxry @mrs-dr-reid @weasleytwinsfav @theguppienamedbae @fadesbrina @lilypad-55449

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #the weasley twins #weasley twins #gryffindor #fred and george #fred and george weasley

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xxlauraxsophiexx · 3 years

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Daryl x reader: Haircut

Here is a Daryl Dixon x reader one shot. No smut, except a short make out session.

I’m sorry for my bad English, it’s not my native language.

Sadly I don’t own The Walking Dead or the characters.

The wind was cold and made goosebumps run down your (y/n) arms. Dusk had already fallen. Exhausted from the long day, you could feel yourself lacking a little more strength with each step you took. The leaves rustled and the trees swayed back and forth in the wind.

"How much longer?" you complained.

Daryl sighed and replied annoyed, "About 20 more minutes, girl. If you'd hurry up a bit, we'll get to Alexandria before nightfall too!"

Rolling your eyes, you walked behind your friend. You didn't bother to be quiet. The leaves rustled and branches broke as soon as you stepped on them.

"I'm hurrying, but I really can't go on. My legs hurt, I'm sweaty, my hair is covered in dirt, I'm hungry and..."

Daryl's hand shot up. A sign to be quiet. As quietly as you could, you crept over to the tree behind which Daryl was spooked.

"What's going on?" you whispered.

Daryl glanced over his shoulder and pulled you in front of his chest, still hiding behind the large tree. Gently, he placed a hand on your head and gently stroked his fingers through your hair, which reached above your hips. You loved it when he did that and he also liked your incredibly long hair, which lay perfectly around your curves. He turned his head to the left and in your field of vision were about twenty biters stumbling through the undergrowth.

You were exhausted and you knew Daryl had little energy left too. It had been a long and eventful day that you would certainly not soon forget. Annoyed, you let out a heavy breath.

"Let's wait a minute and then quickly go past them."

You nodded silently and looked at the dead but still moving figures.

After about 5 minutes, most of the strange figures had passed. Cautiously, Daryl and you stepped out from behind the tree. Daryl with his crossbow in his hand and you with a knife.

You walked up to an undead and framed your knife in its skull. After he fell to the ground, you ran to the next one and rammed a knife into his skull as well. Just as you were about to run further, you were pulled back by your long hair, which hurt a little. As far as you could see over your shoulder, you saw a bony hand of an undead raking your hair. You stumbled forward and fell to the forest floor, the undead half on your back. It tried to bite into your throat. Lying on your stomach with the undead knotted in your hair, it was hard to keep the creature away from you, but you tried as best you could.

"Head down."

As your friend said, so did you. A few seconds later you felt the figure slump on top of you and finally cold, cees blood dripping onto your shoulders.

Quickly, two more arrows shot through the air. They bounded into the monsters forehead and they fell limply to the ground.

Daryl came running over to you and carefully tried to pry the undead's hand out of your long hair, which was becoming more and more saturated with the bloody substance.

Finally, he lifted the dead man off you and helped you up.

"You okay, sunshine?"

You just nodded briefly and buried your face in his strong chest. Carefully he began to run his hands through your bloody hair and rested his head on yours.

"As much as I love your long hair, I'm afraid you should cut some off".

You loved your long hair and knew he was right somewhere, but still you weren't ready to cut your hair off.

"No!"

"Not even 10 centimetres?"

You sighed. Ten centimetres wasn't very much on you. Your hair would still be exceptionally long. It would end just above your hip bone, which was actually still acceptable.

"All right," you groan out, annoyed.

"Come on, girl. Let's go back."

The warm water felt good on your skin. The blood and dirt coloured the water for a while, but eventually it cleared up. The door opened and Daryl came into the bathroom.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," you murmured as you enjoyed the pleasant feeling of the water splashing down.

The shower door opened and Daryl came in. Despite all the dirt, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head against his chest with your eyes closed. Gently, he laid your hair over your right shoulder and began to paint small circles on your lower back. His skin was rough, but you loved the feeling of his movements through your body. Daryl's lips settled on your hairline, making you grumble slightly against his chest. You were sure there was a smile on his face now.

He took a hand from your back and lifted your chin with one finger, making you look into his eyes. A strange feeling, but one you loved, ran through your body. Your lips parted and already his were resting on yours. A soft moan escaped you as he bit your lower lip to gain entry. You gladly granted it and already there was a fight for dominance in your mouth. After winning, he began to run his lips down your neck and under your ear. He spread hasty kisses and sucked in some places that he knew would make you weak. Another moan escaped you and you let your hands wander into his hair, where they tangled.

After a while you both pulled back and you rested your head against his chest again from fatigue. You felt his chest vibrate, so you slapped him lightly on his muscular arms. While you rested against Daryl, he began to wash his hair and body. It wasn't too easy, but he still managed it well. Sighing, he began to wash and rinse your hair as well.

"Come on sunshine, let's get you to bed".

The water stopped raining on the two of you and you felt a towel being placed around your body. Gently your skin was dried and finally you were lifted up by one hand under your knees and one at your back and carried to the bed you shared. Carefully you were laid on the soft mattress and your naked body was covered by a blanket. Half asleep, you noticed Daryl leave again, which is why you started mewling around, "Daryl!"

"I'll be right there y/n."

Sighing, you buried your face in the pillow and waited for Daryl to come back. The light went out and you felt the blanket lift up next to you. Immediately you snuggled up against Daryl's naked torso.

"Have another drink before you sleep."

Annoyed, you groaned and sat up. Gratefully, you accepted Daryl's glass of water and took a few sips. Finally, you gave him back the glass with the cool liquid and snuggled close to his warm body again. He gently stroked your scalp and pulled you close to him with his other arm around your waist.

The last thing you felt was a soft kiss on your hairline and an 'I love you'.

"Come on, let's cut your hair."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance....

"I saw that"

"I saw that," you mimicked him.

In a moment you were lifted up and sat in front of a mirror in the bedroom. Daryl placed a towel around your petite body and took out a pair of scissors.

"Wait. Wait. Wait. Have you done this before?"

Daryl just laughed, "Trust me."

Sceptically you looked at him, "Not too trusting."

Shaking his head he began to comb your hair and part it neatly.

"I'm really not going to cut much off," he tried to reassure you.

"I would hope so if I were you, otherwise I know who won't be having any fun in this room for the next month!"

Rolling his eyes, Daryl began to cut off ten inches of your hair. Taking his time to get the best possible result. After a short while, he finished and took the towel away. Already you were standing and tousling through your hair. It stopped just above your waist and not ten centimetres further as usual.

"At least this way I don't have to worry about you so much anymore. How many times have you gotten your hair tangled in a tree, please? And the chance of you being grabbed by the hair by a biter is also a little less."

"True enough Dixon. I should probably do a braid before we leave the state, though."

"Well, go ahead and make one right now. Rick has asked for our help. We have to leave in an hour," Daryl reported.

"What?" you complained, "I thought we had the day off."

"Stop complaining girl, just get ready. This is going to be a short trip too."

"How many times have I heard that..." you stated rolling your eyes.

"Y/N?!"

You let out an annoyed yell and angrily threw the hairbrush across the bedroom. Daryl came running through the door and looked around the room in confusion. You had already started trying to braid half your hair close to your head and further down. After starting, you gave out annoyed again, because you just couldn't get it to look remotely nice.

Daryl stood behind the chair you were sitting on and began to comb your hair with the hairbrush he had just picked up again.

"What the hell are you doing, Dixon?"

"I'm braiding your hair because you obviously can't do it, sunshine," he instructed you. As he began to braid.

"As if you could do it any better," you said, annoyed and meek.

"Oh sunshine, if you only knew. Before all this I had to learn to braid my little cousin's hair. My dad and his brother were often away for weeks at a time, so Merle and I had to look after the little one. Merle was never the best with little kids, so that was left on me..."

You knew how hard it was for him to talk about anything before the apocalypse. When he finished a page, you turned and took his hand in yours. You kissed his cheek gently and whispered, "I love you".

"I know, I love you too".

It was quiet for a moment you leaned against him.

"Happy with the results?"

You pulled back and started at your reflection.

"Honestly how is it that you're so good at this?"

Daryl just laughed softly in response and started braiding the other half of your hair.

"I already know who's always going to do my hair now," you said confidently.

"Do I look like your personal hairdresser, girl?"

"Yep."

"Dream on, girl".

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #fluff #reader #the walking dead imagines

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restingdomface · 4 years

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Lan Wangji makes extremely deadpan videos of his daily life with Wei Wuxian and their kids and nephews (and nieces if JC and JYL had more). This would include:

*shows a video of LWJ staring out the window for a solid thirty seconds, face entirely unchanged and somewhat disappointed, turns camera around to show Wei Wuxian and the kiddos putting mentos in soda bottles and trying to chuck them at each other, camera pans back to his face, still entirely devoid of emotion*

That one time Jin Ling got stuck up a tree and Wei Wuxian tried to get him down and also got stuck up there and now the other kids are looking for a ladder while LWJ just watches them from the patio, drinking tea. The kids finally give up and shamefully come to LWJ and ask him for help, he gets his husband and nephew down without a word.

The one where he buried 5yo A-Yuan in a pile of bunnies and got scolded by Lan Xichen for it because they might bite him if they get annoyed with him.

There is an entire compilation of rabbits that won’t leave him alone. Climb into his lap. Follow him with every step. Get excited when he comes outside. Hear a guqin and start looking for him. Just. He’s the rabbit whisperer. One of the black ones is just about always with him.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian interacting in any capacity is going to involve a lot of hitting each other and pushing each other over. Only-child kids think they hate each other, but people with siblings are all ‘no no, siblings are just Like That’. People think Yanli is all innocent till they realize she def only tells them to stop when she thinks they might actually get on each other’s nerves. She’s in the ‘boys will rough house and probably only have one collective braincell’ category.

People won’t stop asking him if he speaks so he vaguely makes mentions of having extremely low verbility. They ask if he does sign and he’s not really sure how (lol cause words hard) to explain to them that sign doesn’t really help when the issue is more of him not having much to say tbh. This is apparently the wrong thing to say because then people start being all ‘yeah I get you, I’m pretty dumb too, at least you’re pretty’ and he’s just sorta sitting there with this smacked fish look on his face while WWX can’t stop laughing next to him at the very idea of someone calling his husband slow. Wow. LWJ just sorta finally gets out that he has like two degrees and teaches giqun lessons and it’s amazing. The kids find out about it and can’t stop laughing for hours.

“Hey, why did you name your son ‘sorrow and longing’?” *commense 10 minute video of that time Wei Wuxian got arrested for something to do with a satanic ritual and that’s when LWJ ended up with custody of his adopted son for the next three years and he was in a really angsty mood tbh so it just kinda happened* not a single commenter expected that, even less so when he mentions that they weren’t even together at that point

Films what the viewers think is a prank at first, where he pours a dangerous amount of chili powder into a mug of hot chocolate (with a completely straight face) and then brings it to WWX who takes a drink and makes a dreamy little sigh and goes ‘you always know how to make it just like I want it’ and no one is sure how to react to this video. It’s like watching someone peel and eat a lemon.

You know that video of the girl with the deadpan voice saying she went downstairs to take a shower and there was something brown in the bottom of the tub but it turned out to be potatoes and she’s all ‘not a problem I was expecting, but a problem I can handle’? Okay so that’s how he talks in every video. WWX hands him a baby and he talks to them exactly like that. People ask if he’s good with kids and WWX is all ‘yeah, he’s not just a rabbit whisperer, he’s a baby whisperer too, he’s super great with kids’ *shows LWJ talking to a baby in That Voice while the baby looks at him in utter adoration*

“What’s it like growing up gay? Do you ever get shit for it?” LWJ.exe has stopped working, he has only met one straight couple the same age as him and they’re his sister in law. His brother has three boyfriends, one of which is his brother-in-law. He doesn’t know what a het-er-o-sexual is and he doesn’t want to. Pretty sure his uncle is acearo and hasn’t seen his parents in like 20 years.

LWJ: ‘I apologize for being so emotional in my last video.’ *viewers scrambled to find what video he meant because they ain’t ever seen that man emotional before but end up finding a video where Sizhui told him he loved him and called him papa and gave him a hug while WWX filmed, you can barely see LWJ’s left eye twitching and he pets Sizhui’s head for a moment* viewers are very confused on how this constitutes emotionalism.

Viewers ask to see his brother ‘you know, the one who apparently has three boyfriends’ and LWJ posts a video of LXC passed out on a couch with like three fully grown men all in various states of sliding off onto the floor while the teens play a game of ‘who can stack the most random objects on uncle’s bodies without them waking’ because apparently LWJ and WWX were gone for a weekend and the uncles were supposed to watch the kids (like, all ten of them probably, there’s probably a lot of kids) and it’s Sizhui filming the whole thing cause he’s the ‘good one’ and never does bad things. But he’s also like Auntie Yanli and is totally gonna egg them on from the sidelines.

WWX hands LWJ literally any food and LWJ will eat it all with a completely straight face but as soon as WWX is turned around LWJ is chugging a glass of milk with a look of death on his face. The kiddos straight up can’t stomach his cooking.

😭 someone asks why their hair is all so long and LWJ puts up a video of chatty adorable Sizhui braiding WWX’s hair while he tells him about his day at school. It’s. Too. Cute.

The never ending debate on if LWJ’s deadpan personality/speech is acting or not. No matter how much everyone assures them he’s really just Like That people just aren’t convinced.

Someone points out several times that in their house they have a room with a satanic symbol on the door. That’s just WWX’s home office it’s all good. This is treated as ‘lol WWX is so dramatic’ for like four whole weeks before LWJ posts a video of Sizhui standing outside the office looking nervous. ‘What’s wrong?’ He says. ‘Dad called me into his office.’ Sizhui replies. ‘WWX must be a very strict father,’ the viewers think. That’s not it. That’s not it at all tbh. That video got flagged on like four different platforms and kept getting removed for graphic images and half their viewers don’t. Want. To know. What happened. In that office. (WWX doesn’t even see what the big deal was, that goat was dead when he bought it shut up.)

The others do videos sometimes too lol. Videos include

Jin Ling’s compilation of ‘Mom, what’s for dinner’ and the answer is Always Lotus root and pork rib soup. Someone asks ‘lol she must make that often’ and JL is all ‘lol often, fairly sure she got same-food syndrome, it’s always soup’.

Lan Sizhui at like 17 years old: The one true secret I’ve never told my dads? My most shameful lie? Rabbits aren’t my favorite. My favorite is butterflies. *proceeds to cuddle a bun* I’m sorry Mister Bun, but you just aren’t nearly as pretty as butterflies.

Shaky video of someone sitting on the couch, pointed at NMJ: Brother, while you’re away on vacation with your boyfriends, I don’t plan on leaving this spot for even a minute. NMJ: Oh yeah? What’ll you do when you have to use the bathroom? NHS: Listen, I found a guy on Craig’s List who’s exact fetish is lazy young men who refuse to move and also diapers exist and he’ll be my slave for the week if I let him change me. NMJ: ...I’m taking you with me on vacation. NHS: Yay! NMJ: I’m also taking your phone away. NHS: -wait, no- NMJ: Too late.

Jin Ling: JiuJiu, I spilt soda on your Valentino white belt. Jiang Cheng: *incomprehensible sputtering* -soda on my Valentino white belt-!

Sizhui: *brings Jingyi a bowl of food* Here. Jingyi: Thank you! *takes a bite, face falls in terror, gives Sizhui a betrayed look* Sizhui: Dad’s worried I’m getting sick, he said this would clear my chest cold up. He didn’t consider what horrible things it would do to my bowels instead. Please eat it, he gets sad when I don’t finish what he makes. Jingyi: *glaring* Just dump it down the garbage disposal! Sizhui: *def has a fever if he didn’t think of that* Oh. Good idea.

LWJ: *swaying in place* WWX: This bitch drunk as hell. LWJ: I’m. Gonna comit. A crime. WWX: *crying a little* I love drunk hubby times. A full shot of vodka and he’s not gonna remember any of this. Hey kids, I’m taking Papa on a walk! Sizhui’s in charge!

Zizhen: *sitting quietly on the couch while LSZ, LJY and JL all argue behind him somewhere, covering his mouth with a slightly horrified look* Jingyi: I mean, that’s not fair at all! Who HASNT made out with their cousin at one point or another? Ling: ... Sizhui: You said you’d never bring that up again please shut up. Ling: ...!!!!!! Zizhen: Amazing.

That one time the kiddos hypnotized Jin Ling into thinking he was a kitten. The adults all thought it was really weird that he was finally going through the whole ‘pretending to be an animal’ phase at like ten, but then the kiddos fessed up to learning how to hypnotize and they aren’t sure how to fix it. WWX instigated a rule that no brainwashing is allowed outside his office from now on.

People ask how WWX and LWJ met and it’s told from the POV of Lan Qiren who progressively getting drunker as he tells the story of the terrible high school romance that he had to watch between bad boy WWX and his precious baby angel nephew that made him consider quitting and how no one believed them when they insisted they didn’t get together till after WWX got out of jail for the cow incident.

#the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #the untamed #mdzs #incorrect untamed quotes #incorrect mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #jiang cheng #lan sizhui #juniors #lan jingyi #lan juniors #jin ling #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #nie brothers #ouyang zizhen #lan qiren

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dutchforstrangers · 3 years

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EXTRA! DIGIWEEK DAY 5 - CROSSOVER

Let's do some headcanons, shall we? Last week @imaginedigimon posted these headcanons of a mixed Asian/Hispanic Sora and it led me to this:

In the Heights... I LOVE this musical so much <3 All the latino and dancing and vibing and yes! Here's the trailer:

youtube

And like I said, those mixed Asian/Hispanic headcanons gave me the reason to think of In the Heights x Digimon Adventure crossover headcanons. And what better day to write such a post than on Crossover day 5 of @digiweek! So here goes.

The story

The story here is basically the same. There's a guy (Usnavi) with a store, inherited from his deceased parents, who has this dream to go back to the land he was born in, thinking that's his dream. However he was raised on this block in this city he's living in now, so eventually he's torn between leaving or staying. Simultaneously all the other characters have their own aspirations and dreams, but they shouldn't forget where they came from. That's the main theme and story, the characters will be quite the same from the movie/musical, but with some changes here and there suiting the Chosen Children and the relationships between them (for now I will only cover the 8 Digimon Adventure 01 crew members).

I want the set up to be a little different though. So it's not like a latino block on the Island Manhattan in NYC, but it's more like a city or village on it's own. Something like Big Hero 6's 'San Fransokyo'... Maybe 'Santo Dotokyo'? Could be. Anyway, it's a mix of Latino and Japan (that's actually a very weird combination. I like it!).

How about pairings you may ask?? You'll find out when you proceed reading ;D

The characters

Usnavi / Taichi Yagami: Of course my boy is the lead! He's smooth yet awkward, fierce yet cute, determined yet clueless. Sounds like our goggle headed fella right? So Taichi owns the store, like a true work-a-holic works very very hard. He's friendly, always supporting and beaming positivity. He knows the whole community and the whole community knows him, everyone well aware of his father's dream to patch up the bar on the exotic island they came from. Taichi though is still figuring out his dream and is torn between staying for the community (and his love interest...) or leaving for his (father's?) dream. Plus let's not forget he has some very serious salsa skills like a true latino! The dancing is on, gosh how much I love my Taichi swaying...

Nina / Hikari Yagami: Taichi's younger sister, kind and innocent, who followed their mother's dream to study abroad. The community believed in her and fully supported her like the little light she is, she being the first one to 'make it out'. However during her time abroad she starts to feel lonely and left out, gets homesick and travels back to her hometown and brother with the idea to never go back abroad. Though she just needs the courage to go through and that convincing might come from her community, her brother and her lover.......

Sonny / Koushiro Izumi: In this universe Koushiro, who works with Taichi in the shop, is a 'cousin' from Taichi and Hikari! He has been abandoned by his own mother -who probably was someone with a drug addict- but then he was taken in by Taichi's and Hikari's aunt and uncle..! Yes, this makes Kae a blood relative to Taichi and Hikari, being Yuuko's sister (I love that idea, although it makes both Taishiro and Koukari impossible...). Koushiro is a smart kid, quiet, but always there with his words right on time. He wants to go to college or university badly, the smart kid he is, but because he was never officially adopted and therefore isn't fully registered, his chances are low... Taichi and the community might be of help here.

Vanessa / Sora Takenouchi: WEPA VANESSA SORA! In the musical Vanessa aspires to become a fashion designer. Oh hey, that's such a Sora! Where Hikari wants to come home, Sora desperately wants to leave everything behind to start anew. She works in Mimi's beauty salon only to make money so she can move to a bigger city. It's kind of like a rebellion against her traditional mother who wants her to stay in the community and take over the flower shop. However she might be staying as fashion inspiration can also come from within the community and a certain someone she loves *cough*Taichi*cough*, but doesn't want to admit (this is a very self indulgent Taiora AU thank you very much).

Daniela / Mimi Tachikawa: The salon lady! Or boss is better. She is an entrepreneur pur sang and makes sure everyone looks good with beautiful nails and shiny hair! She's fierce, doesn't take no for an answer (no nonsense policy yup) and always has her eyes and ears open. And her mouth too, because the girl looooooves to gossip! Especially with her two salon companions (from which one HAS to be Miyako -and yes Mimi and Miyako are the lesbian couple-), ¡No me diga! Also: she absolutely loves to tease employee Sora by telling untrue rumors about Taichi just to see how Sora reacts. So sly Meems.

Benny / Takeru Takaishi: This might come as a surprise, because to be honest Taichi would fit Benny so well. But I went for Takeru as Benny, because Takeru can be just as smooth -and kinda sly-. Takeru is one of Taichi's best friends if not thé best friend (I love to explore that dynamic)! A best friend with a love interest in the best friend's sister a.k.a. Hikari. They are secret lovers who are not as secretly in love (Nina Kari and Benny Keru sitting in a tree... k i s s i n g) as they think they are. Takeru works across the street in a record store (yes, this is a big difference from the musical itself) where he takes over the community radio station in the morning. There he has a story telling podcast, telling fictional stories based on the stories of the community (Mimi always informs him with the latest gossip). Eventually he wants to go to college, just like Hikari studies abroad, to become a writer.

(Graffiti) Pete / Yamato Ishida: This is even more of a stretch, but bear with me! Graffiti Pete is a true artistic lone wolf! Spraying art on walls through the whole city and it's absolutely fabulous. He's Takeru's older brother, but was raised by his father after their parents splitted up, and also friends with the gang. Though he may have made some art on the window shutters from Taichi's shop... However, Yamato is not only a graffiti artist, he's also a musician, always 'borrowing' stealing records from the shop Takeru is working. Yamato is just a very mysterious guy, but also a very nice friend with artistic and deep emotional help from unexpected corners.

Piragüero / Jyou Kido: Haha okay, this is weird..! Actually this is great role for Daisuke, but because we're here giving the roles to the Adventure 01 cast, this one goes to Jyou. Simply because piragua (which is shaved ice) guy has a heart of gold and is super reliable, one of the oldest ones on the block, one who has seen it all. He's also a bit silly, doing this horrible work on the street, while he failed to become a doctor (so sad), but he brings joy to others! And also great advice, especially when it comes to following dreams no matter how big or small. Jyou is the one who doesn't let you forget where you came from!

And there are so many more headcanons I could come up with, so this might gets a continuation eventually. But for now, this is it (:

#digiweek2021 #digimon #headcanons #digiweek day 5 #crossover #digimon x in the heights #in the heights #let's start the dance party

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ichorizaki · 3 years

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03. the family forest

warnings infidelity

word count 4.6k

Your body felt hot despite the air conditioner being on full blast. You were rushing around, still dressed in your pyjamas as your husband barked orders at you like you were a lapdog while you struggled to help Tarō put on something that did not have Anpanman on it. It was the day of the wedding between Masayūki Hideo and Meredith Bonavich, and you would have been absolutely damned if you had to travel from Miyagi to Tokyo. Your family was flown out a couple of days ago to help prepare for the wedding at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, which also happened to be where you were staying for the next two days.

“Kāsan! Okāsan! Do I look handsome?” Tarō took your attention as he slid across the floor in his Anpanman socks. A smile graced your face. You knelt down to meet his height, throwing your body towel over your shoulder to ruffle his already messy hair.

“Of course you do.” Before he could respond, your husband came yelling at you.

“Why aren’t you getting ready yet?! It’s almost time and we’ll be late!” Tarō’s proud grin immediately withered into a concerned frown. Your hand reached up to cup his chubby cheek and gave him a forehead kiss before rising to your feet with a quick glance to the clock. You still had two hours till the ceremony started and all you needed was 45 minutes.

Simply ignoring your husband, you headed to the shared bathroom to finally shower and get ready. While it took you a little longer because Tadāo misplaced the hairdryer and blamed you for being inattentive, all of you managed to head down to the reception area with an hour to spare. It was no surprise for you to see your in-laws already grazing the luxurious field like diamond-studded, jewelry-dripping gazelles.

Tarō immediately spotted his cousins and asked for your permission to play with them. Who were you to say no? He happily ran over with a spring in his step, hugging and greeting his cousins with a big smile on his face. Turning to your side, you were met with your sister-in-law instead of your husband.

“Y/N, how are you?” She smiled gently. She was the only one you could ever really talk to besides the other female cousins and the one reasonable aunt in the family tree. You drank in her appearance and your heart swelled with pride at how beautiful she is. The both of you were the same age, give or take a couple months, and were close enough to have a strong friendship even if it stemmed for mutual dislike of your husband’s infidel ways.

“You’re so stunning, Yumeko.” Her already pink cheeks bloomed a bright red, matching the colour of her coral lipstick. Yumeko laughed, shaking her head while waving her hand dismissively. Even her laughter was so lovely.

“Y/N you flatter me too much,” she pouted. “How are you? How’s Tarō?” The both of you began to walk towards the walls so you wouldn’t block anybody’s way. It was out of habit from the countless family functions. While your conversations were mainly small talk until someone else swayed or called for your attention, you still treasured them. The normalcy would only last for so long until someone got too drunk or too riled up or worse—both.

So you talked to her about your baking side business and how it was doing well enough to supply you with some extra allowance. You praised your son, telling Yumeko how he was being a great student and friend in class and how excited he was to be in elementary school. The both of you had a clear view of Tarō and his cousins playing with one another, running around and snaking between the legs of tall pant-clad folks like the ballroom was their playground. You knew how devious he can be and his natural charm of being able to persuade a crowd (you’ve seen it happen with your own two eyes at his daycare).

Yumeko on the other hand, shared stories of her own dating endeavours. She had tried using Japan Cupid, Tinder, OK Cupid, and even Dine, but the men that she went on dates with never seemed to spark something after the date. Her twin occasionally hung around her during dates in her free time, and when she couldn't, her friends did it. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had a dating app. It was nearly a decade ago; you were sure.

Fifteen minutes before the wedding started, guests from the bride’s side of the family began to turn up. For most of them, they were surprised to see all of the folks already present. You were ready to spectate some fight or even overhear some gossip but you were more than pleasantly surprised to see the two sides mingling well. At least on the surface, it seemed that way. You’ve only been to one wedding on your in-law’s side and it was rather tame, save for the backhanded compliments and viciousness under a façade.

You found your seat at a table designated for your husband and son, along with Yumeko, her sister Yasuko, and your parents-in-law as soon as the wedding was about to be announced. The whole time, you stuck to the twins. After the main course was over (you didn’t really like it—it was too expensive to your liking) and folks began to mingle, dance, and play, you insisted on remaining at the table until Tadāo’s father made an off-handed comment that made your blood boil. Yasuko’s hand was on your back, gently rubbing her hand up and down as an attempt to calm you.

Not even your mother-in-law made an attempt to apologise on behalf of her husband when they both rose to leave the table and join others of their age. You shook your head, thankful for the colourful lights that hid how red your jade-adorned neck was and the translator’s voice booming through the speakers that drowned out your sinful curses.

“Let’s go to the open bar,” Yumeko hurriedly suggested, her purse already clutched in her hand.

“The wedding speeches are going to be over soon anyway.” Yasuko agreed. Her cold hand moved to give your forearm a light squeeze. While Yumeko had an apologetic smile, Yasuko donned an encouraging smile. “Tarō will be fine but I’m sure we have a clear view of the kids’ playing ring.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you nod. The three of you left the table upon gathering your belongings and headed to the open bar across the ballroom. You noticed that Kenji was talking to someone at the bar with a shot of whiskey on the rocks in the hand that leaned against the bar countertop. You didn’t know if he had noticed you or not, but you didn’t care because you were already asking for a berry rose mojito.

You couldn’t find your husband ever since he excused himself after he had finished his lunch meal. Your best bet? He would turn up just in time for dinner or if he needed something from you. The thought settled itself into a hot seed in the back of your mouth. Yumeko and Yasuko were flanked by your sides, their own choice of alcohol in their free hand. While they sipped away at their drinks, you tipped your head back and downed the mojito in three large gulps before returning it to the bartender. The seed was washed down by the chilling, refreshing drink, but you definitely needed more than just a cocktail.

When she tended to you, her eyebrows were raised in surprise at how quickly you finished it but simply left it alone at that. The twins spoke nothing of it either, just being cautious as you eyed the waiters with trays of filled champagne flutes and bite-sized snacks.

“What’s the champagne?” You asked out loud, trying to fight the overbearing volume of the foreign language bleeding through the speakers around the ballroom.

“Dom Perignon Rose, 1998. A gift from the Bonavichs for hosting the wedding, we were told.” Yumeko informed you, sipping on her drink. Your response was just a hum of acknowledgement. You recognised that brand, and it was expensive. Noticing Tarō wave at you from the ball pit with a bright and eager smile, you raised your hand to give him a wave in return.

“You two go ahead and enjoy, okay?” You patted Yasuko’s shoulder. The twins smiled brightly, though reluctant to let you go but acquiesced regardless. With your head held high and just the faintest buzz of mojito in your veins, you headed over to the ball pit where your son and his cousins were happily screaming and playing with one another. Something that you noticed while approaching the play area was that even the kids from the bride’s side were playing along. The language barrier you were worried about, but they looked just fine. Entering the area, the kids who noticed your presence immediately came swarming to you, calling for your attention with none other than your son leading the squadron.

“Y/N-basan!” With effortless grace you squatted to meet their height, calves burning just the slightest from all of your weight on your stiletto-adorned feet. Your nieces and nephews alike fawned over the play area, saying that it was fun because the last time that they saw one another was their grandfather’s 76th birthday party a few months back.

“I’m glad to hear you cheeky monkeys are having fun.” Your hand reaches out to ruffle your son’s hair. “Was my Tarō being naughty?”

“Kāsan!” He whined as he sidled up next to you. Laughter and exclamations that no, he was being a good boy clamoured among the young children. He was forcing his face into a pout, trying to fight off the grin upon hearing his cousins vouch for his good behaviour. Kids always fascinated you with their innocence and trustworthiness.

From the corner of your eyes you noticed none other than Futakuchi Kenji lingering conspicuously outside the play area. He charmingly greeted the other guests with a bright smile, with a half-finished champagne flute in his dominant hand. You tried to pay him no mind, knowing that he was probably there to send your thoughts wandering as you wondered just why he was there.

“Kāsan, I’ll be a good boy, I promise! I even made friends with our new cousins!” He grabbed at your arm, shaking it as his body writhed animatedly. Of course you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. He was way too cute for his own good and so were the other kids.

“Okay, okay. You kids stick together, okay?” You paused, comically looking around as if to make sure you won’t be heard by anyone but the ring of children around you. You leaned forward and so did they, your voice dropping to a hush, “I know how much you hate the adults.”

Gasps and giggles erupted like fireworks as you rose to your feet but not before Tarō asked to give you a kiss on the cheeks and the kids who wanted to do the same followed. For some reason, you were one of the aunts that they were drawn to. Yumeko and Yasuko were but older sister figures because even if they were your age, they behaved perfectly like a pair of five-year-olds. Eventually you left the playing area with your heart soaring and just the perfect dose of serotonin.

However, it just seemed to stutter a little bit when you realised that Kenji was making his way towards you. Or perhaps he wasn’t. Maybe if you just pretended that you didn’t see him walk up to you, he wouldn’t see you. Just keep walking, you told yourself. Just keep walking and maybe he won’t approach you. So you did: you kept walking in those sickly stilettos until you were blocked by the crowd forming.

“You really need to stop doing that.”

“What in the–” Your words got caught in your throat when you jumped out of your skin, heart threatening to ricochet through your chest. On the heels of your stilettos you spun to look at him with a pointed glare but you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander.

His long hair neatly fell in graceful locks, accentuating the high apples of his cheeks and the sharp slopes of his angular jawline. He donned a simple all-black suit with a deep maroon tie that had golden embellishments yet he still looked stunning. Wait. He’s not your husband. You shook your impish brain, dispersing such intrusive thoughts about a man who wasn't your husband.

“What do you want?” Your coral lips parted, eyes shifting to meet his gaze. Kenji raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. His lower lip jutted out into what appeared to be a weak pout.

“Why do you always assume that I want something, Y/N-chan?” He grumbled and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully. “I just wanted to ask how you were doing and if Tarō’s really your kid.” Formerly you were thankful that you did not have a drink to muse to but now you really wanted a drink. You already had a husband who was lord knows where. If you were going to deal with such bullshit questions from Kenji, you were going to need a drink. A strong one at that.

“Of course he’s my kid. Do my husband and I look like babysitters to you?” You wouldn’t fault him at all to not know that you had a son with Tadāo. As soon as the both of you had gotten your degrees in university, he had fled out to London for a business opportunity for a couple of years before settling back in Yokohama with a now booming company under his own name. He wasn’t there to attend your wedding six months upon your graduation and you were glad that he wasn’t. Lord knows what would happen between him and your husband.

“I mean, next to him, you look like the babysitter,” he murmured under his breath. You chose to ignore the insult thrown at your husband, waving for a waiter’s attention. The timid-looking boy came up to you with a nervous smile and a trayful of filled champagne flutes. You took one and thanked him before taking a long slip of the drink. “But I’m just saying—he kind of looks like me when I was a kid, don’t you think?”

It took everything in you not to spit the drink in his face right then and there.

“What crack are you on and where can I get some?” He simply chuckled, his eyes lazily floating back to the play area. You mirrored his gaze and watched as your son led the army of kids around, having made-up adventures and having the time of their lives.

“Are you really sure he looks like Tadāo? He doesn’t behave like you too much and he definitely does not take after the big man himself.” You were stunned speechless. You couldn’t quite remember how your husband looked like when he was a child. Had he ever shared pictures of him in his childhood with you? You were never close with his parents, which was a wonder how his mother even gave her blessing. While you were stuck in your thoughts, lips gaping and closing like a voiceless muppet, he chose to add more salt to the pain. “He literally has my eyes and hair.”

“What are you on about?!” You scoffed and took another large sip of the champagne. As the sparkling drink danced down your throat, your feet began to take you elsewhere. Towards the tables? Towards the exit? You didn’t know. “The both of you are cousins; of course there may be some form of resemblance but that’s as far as it gets. You’re sorely mistaken. Tarō is Tadāo’s child. End of discussion.”

Another sip from the champagne managed to cool down the hot seed lodged in your throat until you noticed your husband’s figure across the room. You had to do a double take to make sure it was him—the lights were dimmed for the sake of the father-daughter dance. To your dismay, it was. The same crisp maroon suit, emblazoned with plush velvet on the inside, the same black tie that you made hung loosely around his neck with the top two buttons undone. Your jaw tightened. Dainty fingers manicured just for the occasion squeezed the champagne flute in a vice grip.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes immediately averting your gaze anywhere but on your husband flirting with a woman who was older than the both of you. What was worse was that they clearly had a wedding ring that they both chose to ignore. Unbeknownst to you, Kenji had followed his gaze to where you were looking before cringing a tad bit too obviously and looked away.

“How many times do I have to tell you he’s a good-for-nothing son of a bitch?” He sighed, watching you tip your head back and down the rest of the champagne. Spotting a waiter, you waved them over. At the same time, however, you heard a gruff voice that belonged to one of Tadāo’s uncles chastising him for his words.

“Kenji, calm down. He may be married, but he’s still a man.”

Oh, the audacity. Your lips were pressed in a thin line, passing the empty champagne flute to the waiter. With practiced grace and poise, you gave the old man a vicious smile before it burned into a dark glare. You kissed your teeth to outwardly show your displeasure before turning to face Kenji with the same heavy gaze. He gulped, eyebrows raised in shock.

“You think I don’t know that?” Exasperation clung to your voice like a needy child, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes at the sudden outburst. With your heart sinking in your chest you took a deep breath, “It’s too late for me to start over.”

“That’s not true, Y/N–”

You didn’t want to listen to what he had to say. Your steps were heavy as they soundlessly clicked against the marble tiles of the ballroom. Even in your haste to get out of such an airtight space you were so polite, excusing yourself in a gentle yet firm voice, snaking between bodies with your head hung low in embarrassment. How fast were you going, you had no idea for once the ballroom doors were forced open by your arms, you found the lift lobby and immediately punched for the ground floor with such brute force that you were sure that your knuckles threatened to bleed.

Kenji’s figure was so tiny when he squeezed past the ballroom doors. With a bitter, tearful smile, you watched as your eyes met and the lift doors closed before you, taking you to the level below so you could breathe once again.

You didn’t care that your feet burned. Glossy tears clouded your view like broken glass shards and the world was but a broken kaleidoscope of colours. You ran until you were struggling to keep up with yourself. You kept telling yourself you wanted to tear yourself away from high society but you knew it was just your husband and his cavalier infidelity. The fact that he doesn’t even try to hide it hurt you more.

Eventually your knees gave in. Your stilettos were long gone, nude stockings the only thing protecting your bare feet from getting hurt by the cement ground. You didn’t know where you were, running aimlessly but all you saw was a bench. A bench that sat alone in a vast area of greens, yellows, and oranges. The world spun around you as you carefully manoeuvred your way to it, plopping yourself down before completely breaking apart.

Sobs ripped through your lungs and like a vicious tsunami, all of your pent up emotions came crashing down. Seeing your husband talk up a married woman where a wedding was taking place was the last straw. You couldn’t take it anymore. How could you? How could he? What happened to the oaths and the vows he had sworn the day of your wedding some forgotten years ago? You were once a woman with dignity and now you were reduced to a lapdog servant waiting for its owner hand and foot, never once treated with respect.

Pulling away your hands from your face you noticed how your mascara had been ruined. You were positive that you looked a mess. Blotches of coral, black, and pink mixed in the palms of your hands in a melancholic, painful dance before a frustrated groan came from an exhausted you. Swatting your hands downwards, the makeup—or lack thereof—fell like paint splatter. Your thoughts were heavy and dark, a storm cloud waiting to wreak havoc and flood the endless depths of your mind, but nothing compared to the weight of the one conclusion that you had come to. Unfortunately, you knew it was hard to–

“Y/N!” Huh?

You blinked back tears, slowly raising your head. You could already feel the hurricane-like aftermath of a headache from all of the crying and the running. It didn’t help that you barely ate during the first round of meal courses. Bringing your closed fists up to your face, you rubbed your eyes gently with your knuckles before realising that it was Kenji running up to you.

His blazer was no longer on him, tie loose and the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, cuffs unlinked. Sweat lined his forehead and you noticed the hint of sweat prints on the underside of his pits as he stood before you, panting with one hand propped onto his hip.

“You . . .” He gulped heavily, catching his breath. “You run so quickly.”

“I just want to be left alone right now, Kenji.” The godawful crack in your voice made you wince. You thought you had cried out enough. Apparently not.

Nothing but silence from him. You could feel his stare on the crown of your unkempt hair but did nothing to prompt him. You wanted to be left alone. You wanted to be left alone. Did you? Because for some reason you felt reassured that he was there. For some unknown reason you felt relieved and at ease within his presence. For some twisted reason you wanted him to hold you in his arms and tell you that everything would be okay.

“Listen.” He began. Kenji sunk down to his knees so that you were both face-to-face, but even then you were avoiding his gaze. Cradling the tip of your chin in between his index finger and thumb, he tenderly guided your gaze to meet his, and oh, was it an absolute sight. They were bewitching; intoxicating. His eyes were the dark orange of a sunset shining through fire opals and they burned with a fondness you’ve never seen from him before. They were gentle, as were his hands when they reached down to cup your small hands. “I hate his guts. You know that better than anyone. Don’t you think it’s time we get rid of his pigeon-hearted ass?”

The corner of your lips threatened to tug upwards into a smile at the weird insult. Pigeon-hearted? He’s so weird, you thought, but as you thought that your smile eventually bloomed like a flower in spring. Before you could register your words, your lips were faster than you as you found yourself asking, “What’s in it for you?”

“Aw, Y/N-chan, I didn’t realise you cared about my wants and needs!”

“I’m not doing it!” You sourly frowned. What kind of response was that?! His flowery demeanour dropped as did his voice to but a bare whisper. What’s gotten into him? You get that he was trying to help you—and you appreciated him for it, genuinely—but sometimes you just didn’t understand what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his.

Wait. Pretty? What were you–

“Y/N, I’m being serious. You don’t need that fucker in your life.” Kenji’s voice managed to reel you out from venturing deeper into your ocean of thoughts. Your gaze which had fallen to the ground between the both of you had darted back up to meet his eyes, “You can do better than that. It’s not too late for you to start over with someone else. For all you know, they could be right under your nose this whole time.”

His words tiptoed into the depths of your mind, settling in and making themselves comfortable before sinking into the pitless ocean. Maybe he was right. Maybe you could still start over with someone else, someone who means something to you, someone who won’t leave you in the dirt and someone who would love Tarō for all of him. Oh, Tarō. Your heart longs for the day he will no longer be afraid of the man who is meant to be his dad. You never meant for him to be in such a troubling and stressful environment and all you want for him is the best.

Kenji earnestly stared into your eyes, and you gave him your green light. You deserve a better life. You deserve another chance at giving yourself the happiness that you truly deserved. He smiled brightly when you said yes to his proposition, a smile that gave you butterflies in your stomach.

You maintained eye contact as he rose to his feet after squatting for so long before extending his hand to you. You frowned. Were you supposed to take his hand? You looked up at him, then at his hand, then back at his face. He huffed impatiently, the smile dissolving into a childish pout.

“Hold my hand, damn it! Let’s go back together.”

You stilled at the prospect of heading back to the wedding. You didn’t exactly feel like going back into a room full of people. You had your hotel card in the pocket of your dress (the only thing you thought was worthy of the painfully expensive piece of fabric) and all you had to do was leave Tarō on Kenji’s care . . . sort of. Maybe you could get the twins to take care of him instead. Tarō wouldn’t be too thrilled to have another adult male keep an eye on him.

“Y/N?”

“Huh?” You blinked. Crap. You were spacing out and you didn’t even realise it. “My heels are missing and my feet are too tired.”

You had expected him to laugh, which he did. You had expected him to throw an insult your way, or even joke about how you were growing old so quickly, which he didn’t. You didn’t expect him to offer you a piggyback ride. You threw him a look like he had grown two more heads and a tail, profusely refusing. There was no way in hell were you going to ride him piggyback.

“C’mon, please? That way, my hands are free when I take you back to your room.”

It was unfortunate that he had a point there.

With a sigh, you reluctantly let yourself climb onto his back. You awkwardly pressed yourself against his back, his hands hooking under your thighs and hoisting you up. While it was weird for you, you didn’t mind it. He smelled good, and he was warm compared to the chilly almost-autumn air. He was probably speaking, but you were too tired and comfortable to register his words. Exhaustion took over your limp body and eventually, your world turned black with a promise that everything was going to be alright.

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imagineclaireandjamie · 4 years

Text

The High Road and the Low Road – Part Four

After learning the truth from Claire, a furious Brianna runs to Craig na Dun to prove her mother’s crazy only to fall through the stones herself.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

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Roger watched, speechless as the man scrambled down from his horse and awkwardly stumbled toward Claire, who rushed to meet him in a warm embrace.

“Wha– How? Claire, where have ye been these years? We despaired of ye and thought ye dead long ago,” Ian said as he pulled back from her, wiping a hand over his face.

Roger finally noticed the man’s leg and the pieces slipped into place.

“The brother-in-law,” he said quietly.

Not quietly enough.

“Yes, Roger, this is Ian Murray. Jamie was his brother-in-law, married to his sister, Jenny. But how is Jenny?” Claire pressed on, ignoring Ian’s larger, more daunting questions. “Are she and the children well?”

Still too shocked by Claire’s appearing on the road, Ian blinked and fell into the habit of politeness. “Aye, Jenny’s well enough – and the bairns. We’ve a sight more’n when we last saw ye – grandbairns too. Claire… why? Why did ye no even write to tell us ye yet lived? Jamie never said… He must think ye dead.”

Roger saw Claire begin to sway where she stood and stepped forward, a steadying hand at her back. She leaned into him and nearly caused him to stumble.

“What do ye mean, Jamie thinks she’s dead?” Roger asked, Claire’s weight growing heavier and her breathing coming drawn and shaky.

“Who are you?” Ian asked rather than answer. “Claire, who is this lad?”

“Jamie’s alive?” Claire managed to ask, the reluctance and need to hope in each quiet word.

Ian’s face softened and the tears returned to his eyes. “Aye. Had a mind to die when he arrived, wounded in a wagon. But Jenny wouldna allow it. We thought… with the news of the battle and the army… and what they did after as they set upon the Highlands… We thought ye must be dead and Jamie… He didna say much but what little he did say was that ye were gone – lost.”

“He sent me away,” Claire murmured. She wasn’t leaning into Roger quite as heavily but he could feel her trembling with the shock. “He made me leave. He wanted to be sure we’d be safe.”

Ian looked to Roger with wide eyes but Roger shook his head and held out a hand.

“Roger Wakefield. I’m a family friend.”

“Ian Murray, though ye kent that.”

“Claire’s mentioned ye, aye,” Roger confirmed.

“Jamie’s alive,” Claire murmured again, this time with more conviction. “Where is he? Is he at Lallybroch? Do… do you think he would want to see me?”

“Oh, he’d want to see ye alright, though the shock of it might well stop him dead. He’s no at Lallybroch. Has a print shop in Edinburgh. I’m on my way there now, as it happens. My youngest lad – Ian – has up and left, scarin’ Jenny and me, though we ken that’s no his intent. I’d be more worrit did he no go to Jamie every time like a pup after its playmate. But Claire… If ye thought Jamie dead and ye didna write or come to us in the past twenty years… Why are ye here now? Did ye finally have a mind to tell us ye were safe?”

Claire blinked at Ian, awareness of the present returning to her slowly. She glanced at Roger and snapped the rest of the way back to herself.

“I’m looking for my daughter,” she admitted and, when she saw surprise and hope in Ian’s face, Claire confirmed, “She’s Jamie’s. He knew I carried a child and could see how hopeless it was by the time we reached Culloden. His name was on Prince Charles’ declaration – whatever happened he would be… So he decided it would be in battle, that he would go down fighting. But he made me go, knew I wouldn’t be safe at Lallybroch because I would be his widow. I got out and survived a journey to the colonies. I married a man there and he agreed to raise Brianna as his own–”

“Brianna?” Ian interrupted.

“I promised Jamie… It was the last thing he asked of me. All this time I thought he was…” Claire broke down and both men stepped forward to offer her comfort, inspiring a frustrated laugh instead. “The bloody man meant to die. If I’d thought…”

“Aye, Claire. I ken ye wouldna have gone and ye wouldna have kept yer distance,” Ian said. “But where’s the lass now? Now ye’re here and ken the truth, Jamie’ll want to see ye both.”

“I hadn’t told her growing up – the truth about her father. But my husband died and… He was the one who didn’t want her to know and once he was gone…”

“She didna take it well,” Roger added. “She ran off and we’ve come searchin’ for her.”

“Did ye tell her of Lallybroch? Would she be makin’ her way there?” Ian asked glancing back over his shoulder at the way he’d come.

“If you’d encountered her, you would have known her,” Clair assured him with a proud smile. “She looks too much like him.”

Ian chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I might as well help ye search for her. Young Ian will be safe enough wi’ Jamie in Edinburgh and I’d like to see Jamie’s face when I turn up wi’ his lost child for a change.”

Roger looked to Claire who had indeed somehow managed to turn paler.

“Ye’re sure she came this way?”

“We think she must be headed in tha’ direction,” Roger explained, distracting Ian from Claire till she could better collect herself. “More certain now ye’ve confirmed ye havana seen her already.”

Ian glanced back over his shoulder again, his brow furrowed.

“How long ago do ye expect she’d ha’ come through this way?” Ian asked.

“It would only have been sometime last night. We expected her to come back by morning on her own,” Roger said before catching himself – at least he hadn’t mentioned where they’d been when she went missing, Inverness being too far away for any of them to have gotten so far so fast.

But Ian led his horse over to the side of the road where the terrain began to dip again and a small, rundown cabin hid from view.

“My lad has a habit of restin’ there on his way through this stretch,” he told them. “Caught him up here once and tanned his hide by that tree. I’d guess he’d ha’ been here either last night or the day before if he’d managed to ride along wi’ someone passing through. There’s a chance… If yer lass truly has as much of Jamie’s looks as ye say…”

Claire started and Roger frowned.

“Ye cannae think… Brianna would never…” he objected.

“I’m not so sure,” Claire said. “She is a Fraser, after all.”

Ian laughed. “Aye. They dinna always do what makes sense, especially if their hearts are muddled o’er something. And my lad’s a fair bit of the Mackenzie about him or he’d no have managed to sneak away and make it to Jamie in Edinburgh so many times. Actually, if he’s a companion, it just might slow him down enough to catch him up.” Ian turned to swing himself back up onto his horse. “I’ll ride ahead a ways and try to find ye horses, then swing back to meet ye as best I can.”

“Thank you, Ian,” Claire called.

“When we’ve more time I expect to hear more of yer travels and life in the colonies,” he told her. “And Jenny will have a fair few questions of her own.”

Claire watched him ride ahead, neither her nor Roger able to take a single step from their spont in the middle of the road.

“Jamie’s alive,” Roger said at last, his astonishment written across his face.

Disbelief, hope and fear warred across Claire’s.

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

Edinburgh was incredible. Brianna hadn’t been for more than a shopping trip with her mother early in their visit but that had only been a few weeks ago… for her. What would she make of Inverness? She’d spent more of the visit there and the surrounding area.

Ian had to take her hand and pull her along on several occasions so they wouldn’t be separated.

“Come along, cousin,” he said, causing her to frown. “Ye ken our uncle’s shop is this way.”

“When are you gonna stop doing that?” she hissed. It had been one thing when they were on the road and needed to project some sort of family relationship for their safety.

“Just a wee bit longer at least,” Ian teased. “There’s the sign.”

“A. Malcolm? What’s the ‘A’ for?”

“Alexander, but that’s no really his name – Malcolm either. They’re part of his given name but he couldna easily use his real name as he’s a bit notorious, ken?” Ian rambled excitedly, ushering Brianna forward through the shop door, a bell announcing their entrance.

“Geordie?” a voice called from the back room.

Brianna tried to move off to the side out of the way but Ian’s hand found its way to her back, gently guiding her closer to the counter.

“No, Uncle Jamie,” Ian answered. “It’s only me and I’ve someone I want ye to meet.”

Brianna had frozen at the name. Jamie. But there was no way… She hadn’t told Ian the name of the man her mother had claimed was her father and anyway, Jamie Fraser was dead. James must be as common a name as any and Jamie as well – look at all the Willies and Rabbies there were about.

But there was something in the way Ian was standing behind her, the energy of him, the teasing…

How could he possibly have guessed? How could Jamie Fraser be alive?

Footsteps approached and Brianna could hear the man speaking – scolding – as he made his way to the front of the store.

As soon as she saw him, she knew how Ian had known his uncle was her father.

Her mother hadn’t lied when she said Brianna looked just like Jamie Fraser

#a note: because this is going to be a shorter multi-parter the Jamie/Laoghaire marriage storyline from canon has been disregarded entirely #;mod lenny #the high road and the low road au #featuring: ian #featuring: roger #featuring: young ian #featuring: brianna

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champhangman · 3 years

Text

Recipe for a Perfect Christmas - Part 8

Title: Recipe for a Perfect Christmas Part: 8/12 Theme: Day #8: Fireplace / Stockings Fandom / Character(s): AEW / Nick Jackson x OFC Warnings: Explicit unprotected sex (finally, some people probably say) Word Count: 5,681 Soundtrack: Spotify Previously: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Summary: In the space of six months, Natalie Gibbs lost her fiancé, her job, her apartment, and what little bit of cheer she had. Moving back home after being on her own for years, she hopes to get back on her feet after the holidays. But a nosy best friend, a stubborn coot of a father, and a handsome new neighbor might change her plans, her holidays, and her life. Notes: My entry for day 8 of @12daysofchristmas

The Tag Crew: @adampage / @cowboyshit / @lilmisswhiskeygypsy / @bigpixiefoot / @mindofasagittaruis / @kalliravenne / @sadlittlecountess / @baronsbelleevangeline / @brie-mode-activated / @xbreezymeadowsx / @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch / @wardl0w / @hotyeehawman / @waywardwrestlewritingwaif / @drewshoneybadger / @mysteryoflovve / @knnyomega / @rampagewriting / @hurricanranabaybay / @linziland13 / @bastardkingbrutalizer / @snarkandsarcasmftw / @rubyred1980 / @champnick / @edgecution / @nething4perfection / (please drop me an ask/send me a message/reply to my post if you’d like to be tagged)

***

Part 8 – And Then I Fell

"The number you have called…"

Natalie groaned and ended the call, scowling as she leaned to plug it into the charger. "He still won't answer."

"I'm sure he's fine," her father said, not looking up from his book.

Turning to scowl at him, she softened when she saw Penny curled up next to him on the couch, her head resting on his lap. During the week she had forced him to stay home and rest, he had discovered he liked stretching out on the couch, especially when the dog came for a visit. He had said the uncomplicated company of the dog had helped him feel better. Natalie wasn't sure if it was Penny or the rest, but he had bounced back to almost normal, resuming his morning duties at the bakery and not being quite as grouchy in the evenings.

"He always answers, though," she pointed out. Feeling restless, she crossed to look out the front window. Though it was past sunset, she could see the trees swaying in the increasing winds and the steady fall of snow. The across-the-street neighbors had put their exterior lights up that day and she watched them bounce and sway as the cedar they were wrapped around bent with the wind. The storm was supposed to have only lasted the afternoon but it had stalled after passing Halifax. She could see the cars starting to turn white, as well as the driveway and walk. The sky lit above and she gasped as, seconds later she heard the faint rumble of thunder.

"Thundersnow?" Leonard asked, glancing up from his book.

"Yeah," she said, letting the curtain fall back. The wind seemed to pick up, straining against the windows, and she shivered despite the warmth of the living room. "I hope it ends soon."

"The thunder? Or the snow?"

"All of it." Natalie picked up his empty mug. "Do you want more coffee?"

"Make a pot of tea," he requested, slipping the postcard from Hawaii he'd gotten from his cousin between the pages of his book. He set it aside and reached to rub Penny when she squeezed closer to him. "And you should probably check the soup."

"Right." She should probably check other things, too. If the storm got bad, the power would go out. She wasn't worried about the cold. Years ago when her parents had upgraded their heating from the baseboard propane heaters to central heating, her father had kept the baseboard heat installed and had it regularly serviced to make sure it was in proper working order. They wouldn't freeze. But she had to go down to the basement and make sure the furnace was working, and she had to slip outside to get some firewood for the fireplace in the living room. And she had to get out the candles and kerosene lamps. And—

Her phone began to ring and she nearly threw the coffee mug aside. Grateful it was empty, she tightened her grip on it and rushed to get her phone from the end table. She hated that she sighed, disgruntled, upon seeing it was Ashley and not Nick. Unplugging the phone, she answered the call and headed into the kitchen. "Hey, Ash."

"Just checking in. You guys okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Things okay out there?" she asked, setting the mug in the sink and reaching for the kettle.

"The horses are all cozy in their stalls, the barn is battened down, and Adam's pacing like the nervous wreck he is." Ashley let out a soft laugh. "He's really not, he's outside triple-checking the generator."

"Does he think the power's gonna go out?" Natalie filled the kettle and carried it to the stove.

"It's blinked here a couple times, so it probably will. If this stupid storm would just go away…" Ashley groaned. "We'll be fine. Adam said he can come out there if you need help getting Lenny's furnace going."

Natalie opened her mouth to say she was sure it was already working, and sighed when her father called out from the living room.

"Tell Adam the furnace is already on, we won't freeze!"

"Dad said to tell Adam—"

"I heard him. I won't keep you, I just—"

"Have y'all heard from Nick?"

Ashley paused. "I haven't. I'll ask Adam when he comes in. Why?"

"He came by this afternoon with Penny and said he'd be back to get her before dark." Natalie switched on the stove before lifting the lid off the pot of soup she'd made for dinner. "He had to run errands, but we haven't heard from him since he left."

"I'm sure he's fine," Ashley said automatically.

"I know, I am too, I just…"

"Worry about him because you're a little bit in love with him."

Natalie set the lid down with force. "I'm not—"

"Gonna tell me the sun's shining, too?"

"If you guys hear from him can you let me know?" she requested.

"Of course. But I'm sure he's fine. The traffic is probably bad because of the snow so he's being careful. I doubt he has his phone in his hand the whole time he's in the car. Y'know, like I do."

Natalie snorted on a laugh. "How many tickets have you gotten for that now?"

"That's not important," Ashley said quickly. "Okay, I'll – Hey babe, have you heard from Nick?"

She could heard Adam's negative reply, muffled, then Lucas chattering. Deflated a little, she moved to gather mugs and the tea. "I figured he hadn't."

"Adam said don't worry."

"I'm not worried."

"Adam said stop lying."

"I'm not—"

"Adam said yes you are."

"Adam ain't said shit," Adam protested in the background. "All I said was what's for dinner?"

Natalie laughed. "Go feed your husband."

"The feminist in my wants to say he can feed himself, but the realist in me knows he'd destroy the kitchen in the process. I'll call you tomorrow. Give Lenny our love."

The call ended before Natalie could reply. While waiting for the kettle to start whistling, she tried Nick again, worry increasing when it rolled to his voicemail. She thought about texting him, but he wasn't big on texting. Sighing, she typed out a quick one to him anyway, keeping the message short and trying not to come across as a worrywart.

It's getting pretty bad here. Just checking to make sure you're okay. Call me?

After she sent it she realized she definitely sounded like a worrywart. Sighing, she pushed the phone into her jeans and drummed her fingers against the countertop.

She and her father ate dinner in the living room. A rare occasion, but the crackling fire was warming and the old Christmas movie playing on TV was comforting. The soup and rolls were filling, and she brought out the brownies she had baked that afternoon. She whipped together some bland chicken and rice and vegetables for Penny, who had followed her to and from the kitchen with an eager expression on her face.

The winds rose, rattling the windows, and she had just finished the dishes when the lights went out.

"It's okay," she crooned softly to Penny when the dog whined. "Everything's alright."

Still no word from Nick. She hadn't been really worried, just a little concerned, but now she truly began to worry. What if he'd had an accident? What if he were stuck in a ditch, injured and not seen because of the snow falling?

Everything's alright, she told herself while lighting candles and two hurricane lamps in the living room. Her father got up and turned on the baseboard then went upstairs to change into pajamas and take his nightly medicine. Natalie busied herself with getting blankets and pillows for the couches, knowing they would camp out in the living room. She tried to get Penny to go outside but the dog shied away from the gust of wind that sent snowflakes swirling through the back door. Standing there, starting to shiver, she looked out at the dying storm and her worry increased.

"I'm going to see if Nick's at home," she announced when her father came downstairs. She had already added an extra layer of clothes and put on her thickest, warmest coat, her boots, and was wrapping a scarf around her neck.

"Natalie, sweetie…" Her father frowned.

"I won't be able to relax until I do." She jammed a hat down over her head and reached for her gloves. "His phone might have died and he can't call."

Leonard sighed. "Take your phone."

"I've got it. I'll call you when I get there."

He nodded. "And be careful."

"I will." She picked up the thermos of coffee she'd prepared. "Penny doesn't want to go out in this, so—"

"She's a smart girl," he said, smiling fondly at the dog waiting for him in the doorway of the living room.

Natalie rolled her eyes. "There's coffee if you want some. I made a pot right before the lights went out."

"Hurry along," her father said. "Call me."

"I will," she promised, heading for the door.

The winds had died down but the snow was still falling. It hit her cheeks like shards of glass and she realized there was sleet mixed in. Her boots crunched through the snow and she twice considered turning back to the warmth of home, but her worry drove her forward. There was absolute silence, broken only by someone's generator, and she had to use a flashlight to see her way along the two blocks to the yellow Victorian. It and the rest of the houses along Halifax Street were dark, though through some windows along her trek she could see the faint glow of candles or camp lights. Nick's house – Matt's, she corrected – was completely dark. She was relieved to see his truck in the driveway and ignored the light in the back yard of the house next door, climbing the snow-covered steps to the front porch.

Next door she heard a chainsaw roar to life. Looking over while knocking on the door, she saw that the back yard was lit by car headlights, illuminating a tree that had fallen, some of its thick branches crumpled against the roof of the detached garage. Knocking again, louder, she winced as the saw began to grind through limbs, accompanied by the crackling as the heavy limbs and branches fell to the ground.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath when her knocks remained unanswered. There was no way he was asleep. She tried to peer through the beveled windows on either side of the door but could see nothing of the interior.

The saw died and she heard male voices. Recognizing one, she nearly dropped the thermos and spun to face the house next door. Of course he was next door, helping his brother's neighbor. She left the thermos by the door and headed over, suddenly understanding and knowing what he had done.

And when she rounded the back corner of the house and he saw her, grin obvious in spite of the scarf shielding the bottom half of his face, she felt weak with relief.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, breathless, after crossing the yard to her. His brow furrowed with worry. "Is everything okay with Lenny?"

"He's fine," she promised, reaching to brush sawdust from the sleeves of his coat. "I was worried about you when you didn't answer my calls."

He sighed. "My phone died on the way back from Fairview. I don't have a charger in the truck. Then when I got here, the power was out, and then George's tree fell, and—"

"And you were only worried about lending a hand," she finished with understanding.

"We're working to get it off the garage." Nick glanced over his shoulder. "Won't be much longer, then I'll take you home, okay?"

"I can—"

"Can you start the fire in the living room for me?" he asked, pulling off a glove and reaching into his pocket. His keys jangled as he handed them over. "It's already set, you just need to light it."

"Of course. I brought you some coffee."

His eyes crinkled. "Great. I'll be over in a few minutes." His bare hand grazed her cheek briefly. "Get inside and warm up."

She nodded, then waved to George before heading back next door.

She took off her boots after getting inside then felt like a burglar, tiptoeing in her socks through the house in the dark. After lighting the fire she began peeling off her gloves, hat, and scarf, holding her hands close to the flames before venturing into the kitchen. She got a mug, sugar and creamer to carry to the living room, then found a jarred candle to light. Wondering if he'd eaten dinner, she was about to check for something she could warm by the fire when she saw a crumpled fast food bag on the counter, next to his dead phone and a stack of receipts.

There was a thump at the back door and she rushed to open it, stepping back as Nick entered. "The fire's going," she said, taking his scarf and hat as he removed them. "I'll fix you a cup of coffee."

"Thanks," he whispered, unzipping his coat.

He smelled of snow and wood. After he tossed his coat over the back of the old chair near the door the faint scent of gasoline disappeared, and she walked in front of him to the living room.

***

The fire gave off heat that warmed his chilled hands and face. The coffee was still hot, warming his stomach, and he chuckled when she got up to get herself a cup from the kitchen. While she was gone he found the bag of candles Shayna had brought down to go on the dining room table, making a mental note to replace them before she came down again. The silver candelabras were wrapped in bubble wrap and the sound of the plastic ripping sounded obnoxiously loud to his ears.

"You did eat, didn't you?" Natalie asked as she returned, empty cup in hand.

"Yeah, I had a burger and fries." Though he had a standing invitation to dinner at the Gibbs house, his plan had been to stop home and plug in his phone then go pick up Penny before the storm got worse. But he had got caught in the worst of it on the highway, forced to drive at a snail's pace. "I'm sorry. I should have stopped somewhere and bought a charger or—"

"It's fine," she promised, kneeling in front of the fire to fix her coffee. She moved the sugar, creamer, and thermos to the side of the hearth and sat back on her heels. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Worried I was in a ditch, huh?" He chuckled, intending it to be teasing, but felt her tense from across the room. Frowning, he carried the candelabras to the coffee table and picked up the matches to light the candles. "I'm sorry, Natalie."

"No, it's fine," she said softly, looking at the fire. "I just… Yes, I was worried about you."

He nodded and lit the candles, tossing the spent match into the fire. They gave off plenty of light, but he couldn't let himself focus on how the glow of them made her hair lustrous, or how when she looked at him her eyes were luminous with the flames from the fireplace. Sitting next to her on the plush rug he'd put down that morning, he watched her sip her coffee carefully. "How did your mother—"

"Car accident." Her grip on the handle of the mug grew white-knuckled. "She was on her way to Halifax to do Christmas shopping."

No wonder the holidays were so hard for her. Sighing, he looked at the glowing logs. "I'm sorry."

"Another driver hit a patch of ice and skidded, and…" She looked down, as though the coffee in her cup held the secret of how to not hurt over the memory.

"I shouldn't have joked about being in a ditch," he murmured.

"You didn't know." She lifted her head and he heard her draw a breath. "You know where the interstate goes over the White Beck? And just before you get to it there's the drop-off?"

"Yeah."

"She went through the guardrail right there." She took a sip of coffee then set the mug on the hearth. "I always close my eyes when I drive by that spot."

"I don't blame you."

"The police and medical examiner… They said she was gone before the car got to the bottom. I know they meant it to make me feel a little better or whatever, because she didn't suffer, but…"

"It's okay," he murmured when she broke off into a sigh.

"I miss her. They always say time heals wounds but it doesn't. Like, I know she's gone. I saw her. In the casket. But when I go downstairs in the morning and step into the kitchen a part of me expects to see her there, pouring orange juice or making bread. When I go to the bakery, I wait for her to come out of the back wearing her dirty apron and smiling."

"I do that," he said softly, warmed when she moved closer and he could slip his arm around her. Drawing her to him, he pressed a kiss into her hair once her head nestled against his chest. "My grandma. I loved her. Still do, really. I was close to her, closer than Matt was or any of my cousins. I'd go stay at her house on weekends, even when I was a teenager. It was… Nice there. It was nice at home, too, but just a little bit nicer there."

"Was she one of those grandmas that cooked all day and knitted?" she asked. Her arms tucked around his middle and he felt her smile.

"No." He laughed softly at the memories of his unique grandmother. "She ran a motorcycle shop."

"You're kidding." Natalie laughed. "Nanny's Cycles?"

"Actually it was Sadie's Cycles," he corrected. "Her and my step-grandpa did custom work."

"I'm picturing a total badass older lady in all leather."

"Yeah, that was her. The anti-nanny." Grinning now, he squeezed her close briefly. "She ran the shop and was the queen of takeout. I was a shy, quiet kid, and she taught me everything I know."

"Everything?"

"Everything about engines and plumbing and wiring. Her second husband didn't know how to do anything but the stuff in the shop, and she taught herself how to fix things around the house. She taught me as I got old enough to hold the tools."

"She sounds amazing."

"She was. The point is… I still look for her when I'm back home. I go out to my parents' and wait for her to roll up on her Harley. I drive by her old shop and look for her, even though it's a tire place now. And if I get a pizza, I wish she was there to share it with."

"I wish I could have met her, she sounds amazing."

"Do you knit?" he asked suddenly.

She pulled back, looking up at him with confusion etched in her features. "I do. Not much, usually scarves, and last year I knitted a pair of socks for Dad. Why?"

"She would have loved you." Because she had been fascinated by anyone who could do the quintessential domestic duties. Cooking, baking, knitting, decorating… She really would have loved Natalie for her ability to do all that. She would have loved her for other reasons too, he thought, smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"How did she pass?" she asked in a whisper. "If it's too painful, you don't have to—"

"She died in her sleep. Heart attack." He sighed, recalling the dread and anger and shock that had set in when his mother had called to tell him the news. He couldn't remember telling his boss at the burger joint that he had to go, or the drive home, just walking into his house and into his mother's arms. The subsequent days would forever be a blur of family and friends and flowers. Sadness, but also the joy of sharing memories. "She was probably mad about it. She always said she wanted to go out in a blaze of glory."

Natalie's lips curved. "How long ago?"

"I was sixteen, so it's been almost fifteen years. I wish I could tell you the pain goes away. I know it's not the same – she was my grandmother, you lost your mother. But it gets easier."

"It's been ten years. It's gotten a little easier, but I still want to call her or hear her voice when something goes wrong or I'm excited."

"That doesn't go away," he whispered sadly. Even now, so many years later, he would reach for his phone to call his grandmother to ask her opinion on a job he was doing. Sometimes he got so far as to scroll through his contacts looking for her name before he remembered. Once in a while he would call his mother with the intention of getting his grandmother's number, only to remember when he heard his mom's voice that Sadie was gone.

"Sorry I brought up depressing things," she murmured after a moment. She squeezed his middle. Then leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. "I just – Oh god, I forgot!"

"What?" he grunted, wincing when she pushed away briskly. Reaching for his coffee, he watched her crawl over to the couch, where her coat was.

"Dad. I told him I'd call him when I got here. He's probably worrying—" Pulling out her phone, she snorted when it began to ring. "And there he is! Hey, Dad, sorry…"

Nick half-listened as she explained the reasons behind his not showing up. He thought she exaggerated a little about the tree on George's garage and lifted his eyebrows when she said they were still working and that she was going to start a fire. Keeping silent as she ended the call with a groan of laughter, he waited until she had tossed her phone back onto the couch. He leaned against the hearth, eyes watching her every move as she unzipped the thick hoodie she wore and shrugged it off, then followed her hand when she reached for the buffalo plaid blanket draped over the back of the couch.

She brought it back over with her, spreading it over her lap after she set, and looked at him with a soft smile. "He's glad you're okay."

"Am I okay? I thought I was still outside helping George," he said, flicking the corner of the blanket towards her.

Her cheeks colored. "Yeah… Sorry about that." She cleared her throat and picked up her cup. "I'm just not ready to leave."

"Oh?" He smiled.

"It's nice. Sitting in front of the fire with you and talking? It's more than nice. And if I told him things were fine he would have started—" Natalie cut off with a brief scowl. "Actually he said…"

"What?" he chuckled when she groaned.

"He said to tell you I like my eggs scrambled," she muttered.

"Well…" He cleared his throat, tongue darting over his lips when she tossed the edge of the blanket over his legs. "…Do you?"

"I prefer them over easy, but he can't cook them that way without busting the yolks." A giggle escaped when he caught her hand and pulled her to him.

"I can do sunny side up," he offered.

"Mm, perfect." She moved into his lap and their sigh was mutual as their lips met in a quick kiss.

"I can't cook bacon worth a damn though," he warned, hands sliding to her waist.

"I'll cook the bacon?" Her fingers swept over his jaw and cupped the back of his neck.

"Perfect," Nick agreed with a grin.

***

She had no idea how much time, exactly, passed as she and Nick kissed. Long enough for the fire to die down just a little. Long enough for her to grow overly warm. Long enough for her to push the blanket away and begin tugging the hem of his plaid flannel from the waistband of his jeans. She slipped her fingers beneath once it was free, nudging them beneath the soft cotton of his undershirt so she could feel the heat of his skin.

"I didn't plan this," he whispered between kisses. Hands sweeping down her sides, he caught her by the hips and brought her closer, sighing against her lips when her arms wrapped around him.

"Neither did I." Her skin was warm but goosebumps rose on her arms as his fingers danced to the small of her back. "I really came just to check on you."

"I'm glad you did." He broke his mouth free of hers and dipped his head to kiss her throat, clutching her to him while he guided her down onto the rug.

She had hoped their first time together would be in a bed, but she was too impatient to wait even the few moments needed to get candles and go upstairs. Later, she decided, fingers finding the band holding his hair back. They could go upstairs later. Pulling the band free, she sighed as his silken hair spilled forward, briefly shielding her from the light of the fire. His lips were on hers again and she forgot about beds entirely, sandwiched between him and the plush rug.

He pulled back, gently shushing when she whined. She stared up at him, licking her lips as the firelight danced on face skin. His left side was in full light, the glow of the candles flickering along his right. She enjoyed the contrast and was about to sit up for another kiss when he began unbuttoning his shirt. She boosted up enough to wriggle out of her sweater and tossed it aside, hands moving to his waist and guiding the long-sleeved shirt he wore up his torso. He yanked it over his head then his lips were on hers, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her fleece-lined leggings. She reached to push them down, getting them just past her hips when one finger traced the band of her panties.

The kiss grew desperate. Natalie gripped his shoulders, his back, her urgent cries dying against his tongue as he teased and delved. The logs in the fire shifted and she heard them snap and crackle. His fingers dipped lower, and when his thumb began to strum her clit she broke the kiss with a needy cry. "Nick…"

"Off," he whispered, pulling his hand from her pants with a groan. She watched, panting, as he sucked the wet from his fingers, and fell back on the plush rug when he reached for the waistband of her leggings. Her hips lifted and she let out a shaky gasp as they were peeled down then tossed aside. Then he was reaching for his belt.

She sat up, pushing his hands away so she could do it. Her lips met his in a needy kiss and though she wanted to, she found she couldn't pull away to drink in the sight of him after she unfastened his jeans and pushed them down. Settling on exploring with her hands, she hummed into his mouth while her fingers wrapped around his cock, swallowed his little groan as she began stroking him gently. His hands tugged at her bra and she whined when she was forced to let go of him long enough for him to drag the straps down her arms.

"Fuck," he breathed, hands grasping her thighs and squeezing.

"Yeah," she gasped. Her hips squirmed closer. She was slick – his fingers had made sure of that – and when she had wriggled close enough to feel the tip of him glide along her slit, she moaned.

He whispered his name, a faint plea, fingers digging into her flesh as he shifted so she straddled his lap fully. He leaned back, breath hissing between his teeth, his eyes blazing brighter than the fire.

"Oh god," she moaned raggedly as she sank down on him, hands flying to his shoulders. He filled her, stretched her, sending ripples of delight through her that made her toes curl and her thighs shake. Nick didn't rush her, hands gripping and stroking as she shivered through the sensations. She unclenched her fingers from his shoulders and found his lips for a kiss, rolling her hips slowly.

"Yeah, nice and slow," he whispered. His palms glided up her sides, thumbs reaching to stroke the outer curves of her breasts. She watched his tongue dart over his lips as he leaned back slightly. Then his fingers were gently pinching and pulling at her nipples, tugging until she was whining.

"Nick," she gasped, grasping his wrists. Her hips rolled faster and she pushed down hard, need beginning to take over. She felt and heard herself grow wetter, then his low grown that signaled he'd felt it, too. Letting go of him, she focused on keeping her motions slow, ignoring the urge to bounce wildly.

His hands dropped to her thighs, landing heavy, stinging lightly. He squeezed, nails scraping, then pushed her thighs further apart. He released a harsh breath and she waited for him to lie back and continue giving her full control. One hand drifted upward and his eyes lit as the tips of his fingers grazed her clit and she squeezed her thighs together, pushing her hips forward to increase the pressure.

Then, in a blur, she was on her back. He was over her, expression intense and strained, her name a faint growl just as his lips met hers. In the brief moment of clarity she registered the juxtaposition of his tender kiss and the frantic, almost rough thrusts of his hips. Delight ripped through her, lifted her hips from the rug, sent one of her arms straight above her head, fingers clawing for purchase. A shriek tore from her throat, died in his mouth as his hand found hers. His fingers wedged between hers and squeeze, his hips never faltering their rhythm. Strumming her clit, he moaned when she trembled. Following as she shook and squirmed, he pushed harder, lips sliding to her cheek.

"C'mon," he whispered, hot and breathless. "C'mon, honey…"

"Yeah… I'm close," she panted, tightening her hold on his hand. Squeezing her legs around him, she tipped her head back, trying to snatch in a breath.

His hips shifted, sending him deeper, and his resulting moan made her weak. Head tipping back, she rolled beneath him, the faint understanding that it never felt this intense and wonderful before slipping to the back of her mind. The stubble on his jaw scraped her skin as his lips dragged down the side of her neck and she gulped in the bit of air she could manage, drinking in the scent of him.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god," she whined. Her legs locked, muscles straining, and she heard his small sound of delight as her hips shoved upward. One second ecstasy was just out of reach and the next it was ripping through her, constricting her body then shaking it, forcing her lips to part and yanking a disjointed cry from her throat.

"Oh god," he moaned, low and deep, in her ear as she continued to shake. His thrusts grew irregular, harder, then suddenly he was a bundle of tension above her. She could feel the delight flow throughout his body, felt his cock pulse as he panted and moaned. Humming as he flooded her with searing heat, she parted her lips for his fervent kiss. A whine escaped when his fingers slid, trembling, to her hip, felt the shaking in his arm as it slipped around her, holding her to him.

Once the pulse in her ears slowed, she could hear the crackling of the fire. There was a distant, steady hum, and as the kiss grew tender she realized her ears were ringing. Her body was weak, covered in their sweat, and after his hand released hers she painstakingly lifted it to drape it around him. "Mm," she hummed when he sighed.

Nick lifted up slowly, still panting, hair shining in the glow of the candles and the fire. Moaning as their flesh peeled away, he swept his hand from her hip to her face, thumb tracing her bottom lip. He didn't speak, merely stared into her eyes, and she thought she could read the emotion in his gaze. Licking his lips when she lowered her legs to the rug, he eased his hips back with a soft hiss.

She rolled to face him as he lay next to her, watching the firelight play on his face and highlight the sheen of sweat on his chest. He pushed his hair back, lips tilting into a smile, and she felt her heart skip at least four beats.

"Yeah?" he whispered when she smiled.

"Yeah," she echoed.

"You're beautiful, by the way," he murmured, stretching out his arm to grab the blanket.

"So are you," she said honestly, sighing as he brought the blanket over their bodies. His arm slipped under her, cradling her neck and she wiggled closer, enjoying the sensation of him smoothing her hair back.

"You are staying all night, right?" he asked after a moment.

"Mmhmm." She couldn't move if she wanted to. And she didn't want to. Ever, really, but more urgently, she didn't want to move right then. She wanted to feel the heat of his body against hers. The steady pounding of his heart beneath her ear. His hand in her hair. His lips on her forehead.

"For breakfast?"

She laughed, slow and with a groan, and lifted her head. "For you."

He grinned and it took her breath away all over again.

#aew #nick jackson #aew fanfiction #nick jackson fanfiction #my fics #multipart: RPC #proofread? i don't know her #edit? i don't know her either #12daysofchristmas

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