#THIS ONE had to fall on canadian thanksgiving????? REALLY???? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

storiesofsvu · 1 year

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Heavy Hearts Ch 4

Casey Novak x reader Warnings: language, some toxic family dynamics. Here we go, a little more background into yn's family and upbringing. Also, being the Canadian dumbass that I am, while I was originally writing this, I completely forgot that US Thanksgiving is in November, not October like it is up here. So if things seem weird timeline wise/how long these two have known each other or been together... that's why. I didn't catch it until I was editing LOL. oops.

After your first night together you were incredibly thankful that things weren’t that awkward, there were plenty of morning cuddles and shared smiles as you started to wake up, watching some mindless television as you stayed tangled in your sheets. Finally, Casey was very reluctantly forced to leave your bed, needing to go pick up one of her friends from the night prior who hadn’t made it back to the dorms. She left a very tender kiss on your lips and assured you that this wasn’t a one time thing.

A few days later while neither of you couldn’t stop thinking about each other you realized this was definitely going to be something that was more than just friends with benefits. You shared a lot of the same beliefs, perspectives, and always had each other’s backs when it came to helping each other out with school, studying, projects and the like. You weren’t totally sure, but you felt like you were good enough about reading her body language and the way she would blush around you, so you asked if she would like to get dinner the following week. Casey let out a small giggle, ducking her gaze as she said she would love to and both of you spent the rest of the day fretting over your real first date. Thankfully, things went splendid and you ended up back in your dorm with a bottle of cheap wine, laughing over a movie together before you very happily fell asleep in each other’s arms. You were basically attached at the hip from the first project you’d worked on and when a mutual friend asked if you were girlfriends that was all it took for you to solidify the title.

The weather got colder, a chill clinging to the air so heavily you could see your breath walking to morning classes, the days were shorter, your evenings usually spent curled up with Casey under thick fluffy blankets. Your activities always varying, most days were studying or working on papers while other nights were spent laughing and telling stories, or the more intimate nights where you explored each other’s bodies for hours on end.

Fall break came and went, celebrating with your group of friends so no one had to take time away from school. Everyone pitched in, bringing various food items, snacks, side dishes, far too much wine and beer and a few staples to eat while relaxing from the stress of studying. Once the long weekend was over it was time to focus on studying for exams, working on research papers and practically the only thoughts on your brains were of the law. You spent the night in the library with your group of friends going over old assignments and swapping ideas and theories before the conversation started to dwindle away from school work to the upcoming holiday season. You did your best to ignore it, burying yourself into your text book until Casey nudged at you and you realized everyone was packing up to leave for the night.

You gathered your things, linking your fingers with hers as you all said good night and the two of you began the walk back to your dorm. It was one of those balmy winter nights, where it was just warm enough to be comfortable, that you could enjoy being outside as the fluffy flakes of snow drifted down from the sky.

“You going home for Christmas?” Casey asked, glancing towards you and you let out a heavy sigh.

“Don’t want to.”

“Are they really that bad?”

“Do you follow politics at all Case?” You asked with a laugh and she shrugged.

“Not unless I have to.”

“Well you should start, would help your career.” You let out a little huff, only continuing when she squeezed at your hand.

“So? Your dad’s a senator?”

“A republican senator.” You rolled your eyes, “and my mom is no better. She had a full fledged career as a journalist when they first met, she had dreams, goals, and she dropped everything to be the perfect little trophy wife. I like to hope that she didn’t agree with all of his views when they first met, maybe give me some kind of pull but they’re both so fucking…. Conditioned? I don’t even think that’s the right word.” You shook your head, feeling the build up of frustration rocking through your body “they don’t get the whole human rights thing. I’m honestly surprised I wasn’t kicked out and cut off when I came out to them. I think their only saving grace was that I identified as bi and they thought they could thrust a man on me and I’d fall head over heels and forget about how much better women are.” You rolled your eyes, letting out a groan as you stalled in your step, turning to face her, your free hand reaching up to cup her cheek tenderly, “I would absolutely adore getting to take you home to meet them, getting to shove it in their faces that they’re wrong, that I’m not going to be some white picket fence wife…”

“But…?.” Casey raised a brow and you sighed once again.

“I’ve been barred from ever bringing a girl home if I want to hang onto my trust fund. I know, pretentious. But I don’t exactly have much time to work around school hours, I dunno how you managed to do it.”

“They’re really that homophobic?”

“My brother isn’t.” You shrugged, “and I honestly don’t think they are, they could be, but they’re so fucking worried about appearances. Dad’s always deep into passing the bills and laws that prohibit rights to people like us that I think he’s scared about having someone as close as I am opposing them, especially as I start to work in the law community. I think he’s worried about me bringing a girl home and like paparazzi catching us together and causing a whole like, controversy.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah… so no, I don’t exactly plan on going home for Christmas.” You let out a little sigh as you finally returned to the dormitory, turning to Casey, “what about you? Your parents are in New York, right?”

“Yeah.” Casey smiled softly, waiting for you to unlock the door and do the quick check that your roommate was indeed gone, before she spoke again considering the later hour. “I know it sounds super cheesy but we love to do the whole tourist type thing at Christmas. Markets, Times Square, Rockefeller Center”—

“Rockettes!?” You turned to her with an adorably very excited expression on your face and she chuckled softly, pausing to steal a kiss.

“Yes.” Her bag and coat found a home in a spare chair, “and if we’re up to it we do the whole ball drop on New Year’s. If not, it’s off to the Hamptons house for a couple of days.”

“You own a Hamptons house?” You raised a brow, stripping out of your coat and chucking it to the laundry pile.

“Yeah.” She laughed.

“And you called me little miss rich pants.” You teased with a scoff, starting to pull off your clothing to replace them with cozy sleep options, tossing Casey her usual preferred garments as she did that same.

“Oh, okay.” She laughed, “so a Hamptons house equals rich nowadays?”

“Well it doesn’t exactly mean you’re struggling to make rent.”

“Remind me again, how big was that house you grew up in?” She smirked as you turned back to her.

“Like, eight bedrooms?” You practically winced as you turned back to her and she laughed.

“Didn’t you have a pool and an entire guest house?”

“Pool yes, guest house was demolished when I was in high school to make more space for the fancy gardens my mom wanted.”

“And how many housekeepers?” Casey asked with a laugh and you let out a half annoyed huff, dropping down onto your bed as you tossed the blankets back, slipping underneath them.

“Too many to count.” You grumbled, “to cut to the chase, we’re really fucking rich, okay Case? But that doesn’t mean I like it. That doesn’t mean I want that lifestyle, that life, I’d much rather just be happy and with the people that I actually truly care about.” You missed the way Casey’s expression softened, the bright grin breaking out on her cheeks as she tugged on the hoodie before dropping down onto the bed beside you, her hands grabbing at you, cupping your cheeks and pulling you to her.

“You really care about little old me, hey?” She asked before kissing you and you let out a small laugh.

“Yeah…” you felt your cheeks heat, “I really do.” You smiled into the next kiss she stole, “I never thought I’d meet someone at school who made my world complete, but it turns out I did and I don’t care what my family thinks because I know they’re wrong, you’re all I need.”

“God you’re so fucking adorable.” She kissed you once again, “and I don’t give a fuck about where you came from, or what kind of bullshit your family is, all I want is you.”

“I adore you.” You replied with a dopey grin, wrapping an arm around her as the two of you nestled into the pillows, burrowing into the blankets before falling into a very happy sleep in each other’s arm’s.

The next morning Casey called her parents, happily checking in and catching up for nearly an hour before the upcoming holiday came up. She’d already told them about you and they were more than excited to know that you were still going strong and cared about each other so the obvious answer was yes when she asked about bringing you home for Christmas. You were expected the regular slew of push back, being reminded that you would be sleeping in a guest room, or a hint of distaste because you were a woman, but the phone was put on speaker only a moment later. The Novak’s immediately asking if you had any allergies, what your favourite food and drink options were, if you’d been to New York before and what were the must do’s that they would schedule for the four of you. Casey’s mom began to excitedly chatter about getting Casey’s room set up, saying she would make sure there were lots of extra blankets and pillows for the two of you and you cast Casey a surprised glance that she laughed off, leaning in to kiss your cheek before continuing the conversation.

You on the other hand, waited until Casey had disappeared to the gym to call your own parents, knowing that the conversation wasn’t going to go as smoothly. You opted to call the house landline, figuring that maybe you would get away with just leaving a message either on the machine or with one of the housekeepers. You paced through your room while the line rang, letting out a low breath when your mom answered.

“Vanderbilt residence, Caroline speaking.”

“Hey, it’s me.” Your pacing stopped but you dropped down onto the bed, fingers toying with the phone cord nervously.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s so good to finally hear from you! We missed you at Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, didn’t really have enough time to come home with all the studying and stuff.”

“Well I’m glad exams will be done soon; I’ll have Larissa start setting up your room.”

“Uh… there isn’t any need for that…”

“Oh come on now, I know you’re focussed on school but you can’t stay there all by yourself over Christmas! If you don’t want to deal with the airport crowds I’m sure the Lexington’s wouldn’t mind us using the jet.”

“Mom!” You groaned, having to cut her off, “I won’t be alone, and I won’t be staying in Cambridge, I wanna go to New York.”

“Hold on, your father just got home.” She didn’t even hear what you’d said, and you let out another frustrated groan, collapsing back onto the bed behind you as you heard her say something to your dad before the line beeped and you knew you were on speaker.

“Well hey there chickadee, what a nice surprise this is.” His voice rang through the line and you grimaced at the nickname he still stuck with.

“Hi dad.”

“Now what were you saying? You want to go to New York over the break?” Your mom asked and you quickly veered from your original plan while still staying on topic.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve always wanted to spend a Christmas there and it doesn’t hurt to start to make connections in the legal community out there now, be a step ahead of everyone else when we graduate, right?”

“That’s my smart girl.” Your dad beamed, “I’ll email you information for my contacts out there, maybe even get you set up interning at a defence firm out there over summer.”

“Yeah, that’d be great but I don’t want to work defence.”

“What on earth do you mean?” Your mom asked and you let out a sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Firm experience is fine but I want to help people not support criminals, you should know this already.”

“I really think that’s going in the wrong direction there chickadee, but you’ve still got two years left, there’s more than enough time to change your mind.”

“Sure.” You surrendered, “I am still only a semester in. So is it okay that I’m missing Christmas this year?”

“Well who are you going with?” Your mom asked, “Ethan said you started dating someone?” For fucks sake, your brother just couldn’t keep his mouth shut, could he? “You know, he and Sarah are getting pretty serious.”

“Yes mom, I know.” You knew she would end up on way too much of a tangent if you didn’t cut her off.

“We just need to know who you’re staying with.” Your dad cut in, “I don’t see any hotel charges on your credit card?”

“I’ll be staying with the Novak’s.” You let out a huff, “Benjamin and Grace if you feel the need to do a full search.” You rolled your eyes, knowing just how your parents were, you knew it was technically for your safety but they were just a little too invasive, and always had been.

“Benjamin Novak, why does that sound familiar?” Your dad asked and you could practically hear the wheels turning through the phone, “was he military?”

“Yes.”

“Wait… I remember meeting them at a few parties.” Your mom interrupted.

“Yes, Caroline you’re right. But they only had a daughter.” There was an awkward pause where you knew you parents were doing their best to have a silent conversation, “chickadee, are you trying to tell us you’re dating this Novak girl?”

“Well the point of this phone call was to ask if I could go to New York for Christmas, but now I guess it’s this. So yeah, I am.”

“Well I guess you can, because you know the rules, she can’t come here. And chickadee you better watch out, there’s lots of paparazzi in the city, you better behave yourselves and not be all over each other, I don’t want the tabloids blowing up with anything.”

“Preston.” Your mom scolded, “she knows, you don’t need to remind her.”

“Thank you.” You muttered though you were sure she didn’t hear it, there were sounds of hushed arguing on the other side of the phone before it beeped again and you knew your dad had stormed off and you were off speakerphone.

“Is this girl at Harvard with you?”

“Yes. Here for law, same year as me.”

“And I suppose if the Novak’s were at a party we were they’re a respectable family?”

“Yes. Got a house out in the Hampton’s and everything.”

“As long as you’re safe out there and you’re happy I suppose that’s all that matters. We will miss you at Christmas though.”

“Thank you mom.”

“Shame though, those Lexington boys… Archer just got married, I think Brock was hoping to spend some time with you over the holiday, we’ll have to wait for summer.”

“Did we not just talk about me interning in New York over the summer?” She didn’t hear you, or at least she pretended not to, continuing to ramble on.

“Maybe Brock would want to go out to New York with you! I mean, I’m sure this thing with this Novak girl is just a college phase, you’ll grow out of it, you’re just lonely.”

“I’m hanging up.” You deadpanned, dropping the receiver down and you let out a loud groan, running a hand over your face.

It had always been like this. Your dad would completely ignore it and pretend it wasn’t happening, warning you to not damage his or your own reputation, though that applied to more than just dating girls. You weren’t allowed to drink in excess, you’d gotten strict warnings about never doing drugs, if you were to ever be in the spotlight or papers it was to be in a positive light only. You’d been doing charity work since you were fourteen, but only if there were cameras around, you had to be at every gala and fundraiser possible. And thanks to your dad’s rules you were either to appear alone, or with a male chaperone, your parents seemed to have picked out Brock Lexington for that and still weren’t giving it up all these years later.

Your head rolled towards the door at the sound of it opening, a dreamy smile taking over your cheeks as Casey entered the room, flashing you a dazzling grin.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You pushed yourself up to sitting while she tucked her gym bag into the closet before joining you on the bed.

“You get the go ahead for Christmas?”

“I did. We are all good.”

“Amazing.” She beamed, “it’s gonna be so great.” She paused for a moment, her brow furrowing as she took in the way your shoulders were slumped over, the slight feel of defeat hanging thick in the air, “what?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, smiling across at her, “I’m just really glad I met you.”

“Me too.” She smiled back at you, figuring if something was wrong, you didn’t want to talk about it right now and she wasn’t going to push it, you’d say something when you were ready. Instead she simply leant in, kissing you tenderly, letting out a happy hum at the feeling of your lips curving up into a smile against hers. You were happy with her, and that was all that mattered.

_______________

@bisexualcrowley @red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @wannabe-fic-reader @altsvu @disneyfan624 @svulife-rl @svushots @whimsicallymad @mysticfalls01 @swimmingstudentchaos891 @naturalxselection @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @wosoimagines @solemnnova @infernumlilith @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @thestarrynightslover @lawandorderuswnt @ex-uallyactive @hbkpop @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @drduckthief @narvaldetierra @dxtery @poisonedcrowns @anlin2058 @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that @yesterdaysgone @clarawatson @mickey-gomez @borg-queer @momlifebehard @softgamerking @yeeterthek33per @brooklynmhm @summergeezburr @alexxavicry @anya-casablanca @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @alcabots @7thavenger @augustvandyne @msvenablesbitch @kdaghay

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #heavy hearts #svu

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museum-spaces · 2 years

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tales from storage

So for the past two weeks my employee and I have been tackling the storage area of our museum. when we started we had 4 rooms; two complete messes, one semi organized newspaper archive, and one empty old boiler room - boiler has been decommissioned for years. Now we have two organized rooms, one slightly less organized newspaper archive, and an old boiler room with a few of our 'oversized' objects - bed frames etc.

i still have my employee for a week before I loose her 'til spring and we still have a chunk of stuff to put back into the rooms but here's what we did;

day 1; took everything out of room A, found the objects that I cannot talk about, set up a second shelf unit bringing the rooms shelves up to 7 from 4.

Day 2; set up a small table and went through box-by-box what was in the room. I took extensive notes and wrote numbers for all of them - we don't have archival pens yet so I haven't put those numbers on the actual objects, just in my book and on the box itself. We managed to get almost every thing from the original 3 shelves onto one of the new shelves.

day 3; call cops, have them stop by for the Things, continue reorganizing room A. This continues for day 4 as well.

Day 5; empty out storage room b, find a whole cash of semi-organized photos and what might be journals from the 1800s - discover on day 10 that they are actually journals from the 1960s, be disappointed.

Canadian Thanksgiving falls on day 6, so don't work that day.

Day 7; set up last shelf unit in room B bringing shelves up from 2 to 6, organize framed art storage - assign numbers and condition check all art as it is placed. Have loads of room left over for additional pieces as we redisplay the upstairs galleries. Move desk.

Day 8; day spent like day 4, but with added exploration of archives. spend a stupid long few hours sorting through old emails that previous management printed off and kept in folders to figure out which ones were from her ordering uniforms - which we don't use - and which ones dealt with research and museum matters.

Day 9; spend most of the day doing computer-y things with a bit more sorting thrown in for good measure. be very sick that day and go to the hospital at about 10pm.

Day 10; feeling much much better after only 12 hours, get back into sorting. Move desk again. also move filing cabinet. at one point in the afternoon decide to go through box found on day 5 with journals. discover the hard way that this box is FULL of mould. clean box out, have coughing fit, send employee - allergic to mould - out of the room. keep cleaning. accept mask from employee. sort through all the books in the box etc - 46 items including the box itself - carefully note and wrap each item from the box to help protect it from mould. realize we spent about 1.5 hours on the 46 items.

and that's the end of that.

It is a heck of a lot of fun to do this... but my employee, gods all bless her, doesn't really 'get' what I'm doing and that she can't just grab the next thing out of the box, rattle something off at me, hand it to me, then grab the next. We are working in a cramped space and I need to be able to sort through the things, put them in the relevant piles, and write detailed notes to myself for the catalogue. which is hard enough when you're writing on your lap let alone when someone keeps handing you things that NEED 2 handed support.

I can't wait for 6 working days from now when she'll be off for the winter and I can move at my own pace. No denying I need her right now - couldn't move half of this heavy stuff on my own - but I do look forward to the quiet.

#museum #museums #museology #museum studies #actually autistic

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saturniiinae · 2 months

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//15 pt. 2//

15 was the year that i lost everything & everyone that ever mattered to me. even the in bits & pieces, the urns full of ash, a letter i want to burn- they never return. no, not wholly.

sometimes, i lay awake at night, i can not sleep, & i try to remember, i try to think, think, think, but everything is always in this haze of the yellows&purples&browns&blues, the hue of the bruises in the shape of a pointer and a thumb left on my inner thigh. when i see something, i grasp it, i hold it, i speak it out loud into the winds slapping my face raw, into the river where i dreamt of floating down, down, down, into the bathroom sink drain full of hair&vomit&blood, into the chipped cup i refuse to let go of- full of cinnamon orange & lead paint.

i am dissociated from the girl i once was.

that girl who slept outside in the summer just to hear the coyotes howl & yip, the safety of cars passing by& the neighbors tv blaring college football games& the cattle train waking her.

she used to wake up early just to drink coffee every sunday with her papa, to watch the weather reports of canadian blizzards, to poke the fire & watch the snow fall. she would sing her father gospel& draw her mother laughing.

birthdays were halloween decorations, no-bake-cherry-cheesecake, & the girls who still liked me, who now hate me. they were family & cousins & firepits.

i had friends then, before, & after it was never, ever the same.

when i was 15, i found out what love really meant.

it was christmas vacation & pressed up against lockers, the blooming red blood flowing from the boys nostrils (did he not understand? how special a first kiss should be?) & falling down in the school yard. it was a boy in freezing grey minnesota & the drawings he made, the last words he said. it was the stairwells &my name on the loudspeaker. it was walking a mile in the winter just to see my father, thanksgiving spent in a gas station, we would share a coffee & dollar store coffee-flavored-hard-candy. it was sleeping on the pissed soaked carpet like a dog & getting kicked out after. it was a dirty room in a house i had never been to where he held me down, where i took my first drag just to compose myself after. it was a girl with blue hair & even bluer eyes. it was my father on the swing singing. it was my mother getting in her car & leaving. it was that house in that town i hated that smelled of meth & gun powder. it was losing faith & falling out.

when i was 15, my world fell apart.

i do not see how it was ever worth it- the things we do not ever speak about.

i can not grieve her.

the girl i once was.

i can not even remember what she looked like, or felt like, or tasted like.

i can not remember her thoughts swirling, the dread creeping, the crushing adoration she felt for girls & boys who would never notice her.

i can not remember how it felt to punch the dry wall,

only the floating through my childhood bedroom ceiling- the one covered in glow-in-the-dark-stars & a crack from an earth quake.

sometimes i wish i could.

she comes & whispers to me in my sleep, in my dreams.

sometimes, i wish she would shut the fuck up.

#dreamjournal.txt

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ottersnothere · 7 months

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i cooked thanksgiving dinner, i spent from 12pm to 7pm cooking this huge feast for (canadian) thanksgiving and everything was perfect but an hour went by and the guests never showed. Turns out one of them got into a bus acident, it turned out to be barley anything but at first it was quite a shock. I am so tired I had to eat all this food and mope while my body was aching because I was also sick. it’s not their fault for getting g hurt obviously bu I was really exited and that’s why i did all of this to show I care and then they couldn’t even see it

Iv been anxious tired and just sick enough that i don’t get to stay home but it impacts how i am feeling and everything hurts

I have gotten into conversation with my ex boyfriend but i don’t like him anymore, he used to be so sweet. He cooked, Snowboarded, Had the same music taste and he had no problem listening to taylor, he was anxious and talked about how he was feeling, he was conmfortable with me but now he’s off to another school where all he cares about is hoes and weed. He doesn’t give a shit about me. He only talks about people stealing his dap pen and i am pissed off. I hate when people change and me hating them for changing doesn’t make them change which is sort of ironic.

Plus everything seems to be falling apart with my classes, friends, family. I have prayed and try to reason with myself but I really don’t know, my only suspicion is that something great is going to happen and it’s going to be all worth it in the end.

Ps i don’t know what to do about this guy (let’s call him Mr.A)

#blogger #blog #rant post #sorry for the rant #mini rant #bored #advice #personal rant #blah #student life #neurodiverse stuff

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hookingminor · 3 years

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Congrats on 2k love 🥳🥳🥳 Could I get number 16 from list 4 wth Tyson Jost? 🥰

16. Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble

Tyson knew you were upset about not being able to go home for Thanksgiving despite your many efforts to try and convince him you were fine. Money was tight, especially with school and rent and other various expenses, so you decided to save up to go home for the holidays in December rather than try and make the trip twice. Tyson had offered to pay for your flights, but you wouldn’t allow it.

Thanksgiving wasn’t a holiday Tyson grew up celebrating, being Canadian and all, but he understood your sadness at not being able to see your family. Even if the holiday was problematic itself, it was an excuse for your family to gather and spend quality time together, watching football and gorging on pumpkin ciders and mashed potatoes.

You put on a brave face for him, though. You were sad, of course, but it was a few more days you got to spend with your boyfriend during his busy hockey season. So you chose to look on the bright side of things. A cozy few days in would have to suffice, and you could order some fancy takeout and still watch football though you’d miss the shouting voices of your parents and siblings whenever there was a bad call.

Tyson didn’t really understand football as well as you did, nor did he really care for the sport all that much, but he’d try his hardest for you.

It was only when your mother called the night before to check in with you that the sadness came back at full force. She called to catch up like normal, but with the chaos of your distant family members coming into town, the house was full of noise. Small kids shouted in the background, and a few of your cousins popped in the call to say hello and that they missed you.

Tyson wasn’t eavesdropping, per se, he was in the kitchen making sandwiches at the time, but he could see the deflation of your shoulders when you ended the call. He set a plate in front of you after you hung up, not wanting to intrude while you were talking to your family, and he swore he could see a slight sheen of tears in your eyes. He didn’t bring it up.

Instead, he concocted a plan in his head.

Everyone was busy with their own families, so Tyson sent you on a couple errands the next day. Black Friday deals seemed to only start earlier on Thursdays with each following year, so you didn’t mind doing some light shopping that afternoon before you and Tyson had a chill night in.

Meanwhile, Tyson did a week’s worth of grocery shopping in an hour. Normally, you didn’t let him grocery shop alone since he never knew what he needed until he’d racked up a near two-hundred dollar cart when all he wanted were a couple items to get through the week, but after much training (shopping with you), he picked up a few tricks. He spent all night googling staple Thanksgiving dishes and recipes he could make without much fuss.

He managed to get a ham, since you didn’t like turkey, a bag of potatoes and gravy mixes, ingredients to make stuffing, some yams, and various materials to make casseroles. And he bought a pre-made pumpkin pie since he didn’t think he had time to make one, and he really didn’t want to fuck up your favorite dish.

By the time you arrived back home with a couple bags in tow, you were slapped in the face with incredible smells coming from the kitchen. It was just before three in the afternoon, and you were immediately confused as to what Tyson could be making considering he almost never cooked.

“Tyson?” You asked, turning the corner to find your boyfriend hunched over the oven with an apron draped over his body. “What are you doing? I thought we were eating out tonight?”

“We were,” he said, standing back to his full height. The oven mitts on his hands complimented the apron well, and he looked so adorable standing there with a grin on his face. “But I thought we could have a Thanksgiving here since you couldn’t go back home.”

You took in the entire kitchen, noticing vegetables and seasonings all over the countertops, and a well of tears pooled in your eyes instantly. “You did all this for me?”

Tyson shucked off the mitts and took you into his arms. “Of course I did. You were really sad, and I don’t like seeing you sad.”

The soft look in his eyes almost made the tears spill out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around his shoulders to lunge at him with your whole body. You tucked your face into his neck, letting a few tears fall in the process.

“I love you,” you mumbled into his shirt. “Seriously, I love you so much. I love you more than anything.”

One of his hands lifted to stroke the back of your neck. “Hey, I love you too.”

“No, like, I love you,” you repeated with more emphasis, pulling back to place a kiss on his cheek. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss.

Your kisses landed sporadically on his face, hitting his cheeks and nose and jaw as the tickles sent Tyson into a fit of laughter and he tried to turn his head away to avoid your kissing attack.

“And I love you,” he said again. Halting your movements by holding your face in both of his hands. “Now come on, a couple of the guys are coming by later to help us eat all this, so you need to help me finish cooking.”

As if your heart couldn’t take any more niceties, it damn near bursted at his statement. He even invited people over so you wouldn’t have to celebrate alone.

You couldn’t help but plant one last sloppy kiss right on his lips this time. “I love you.”

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #my writing #requests #blurbs #avs17 #2k blurb weekend

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bisexual-horror-fan · 3 years

Text

"Aren't You A Little Early?" Buddy Swanson And Sam Wescott X GN! Reader. Poly!Camping Boys. Fluff.

AY! So I know no one asked for this, but it’s been a few days since I have gotten something out. The idea for this hit and it hit HARD at work today, and with everything going on in my life I am taking the inspo when it comes and this felt really needed, was super fun to just let this pour out. Some good ol Poly!Camping Boys fluff. Also yes I fully headcanon that Buddy is Canadian. Centre Stage was filmed in Canada and nothing outright says it isn’t in Canada, so fuck it! Buddy Swanson is Canadian because I and Tina say so! It being my native countries Thanksgiving weekend the idea for this hit and so here we are! We all know fluff is a rare treat from this smut machine so enjoy it!

----

Length. 1.7K. Rating. SFW. Buddy Swanson and Sam Wescott X GN! Reader. Poly!Camping Boys. Warnings: Fluff. Domesticness. Established Relationship. Teasing. Buddy Being A Total Sweetheart. Alcohol Consumption.

-----

You and Sam both had work that day. Sam managed to finish just a little bit before you had and swung by to pick you up, the two of you walked home together, hand in hand, wondering what you were going to get up to that night.

“Is Buddy working?” You asked, glancing over to Sam and he responded, “It’s Monday, so probably, we just might catch him on his way out the door if we speed it up a little.”

“Well let’s pick up the pace and give him a proper goodbye, hmm?”

You and Sam typically worked during the day, Buddy usually working the dinner shift, unless he had the day off it would be hard to coordinate time together, getting to see him off was something you all made a big effort to facilitate. You and Sam knew it meant a lot to him, any time he could squeeze out with you both was immensely important to him, more than he could properly say.

Soon enough you and Sam were coming inside his and Buddy’s shared apartment, the fall chill was easy to forget with how warm it was, but you noticed something else before the warmth, it smelt incredible in here. The lights were still on, Buddy must still be home, before either you or Sam could call out to greet him he was already coming around the corner in full view of the door.

“Oh you’re both home! Perfect timing.” He said as he came forward, one hand on your arm he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a small “Hey.” from you as he did so, and then he leaned down to press one to Sam’s cheek, he also gave a little, “Hi man.”

You noticed what he was wearing, nice navy blue sweater and white collared shirt, slacks, normally if he would be working tonight he’d be in his uniform already, you spoke first. “Not working tonight?”

He pulled back, shook his head and a wide smile, “Nope! Got the day off today, you get to have me all night.”

That made you smile too, “Lucky us! Nice outfit by the way, you got something planned?”

That had Sam following you up in a teasing tone, “Yeah, is it date night? Do we need to hurry up and get ready?”

He gave you both this kind of look, “Uh yeah I’ve got something planned, it’s a special occasion, did you both forget?”

A shared look between you and Sam, both wondering at once if you had forgotten some kind of anniversary, you hadn’t thought that you had. If it was an important day there was no way both you AND Sam would have forgotten it.

“Oh my God you totally forgot.” Buddy teased and you jumped to try and defend yourself, “No, no, of course not!”

Sam had his hands on your shoulders, standing right behind you still as he contributed, “Yeah! I mean psh, us? Forget? As if!”

Buddy had his arms crossed, a fond smile on his face, a hum as he rolled his eyes, “Yeah I am sooooo sure. You two? Forget? Never.”

“Right, never.” Sam confirmed and after a beat of silence you spoke.

“But let’s pretend, just for fun, and say that we DID forget-”

Buddy laughed a little, a hand gesturing out, encouraging you, “Go on.”

You finished your thought, “-what is today exactly?” He scoffed, still clearly playful, he reached out, took a hand each from you and Sam, “C’mon then.”

He tugged you both along, leading you both off to the kitchen. The warmth and smell only increased as you got nearer and then once you were across the threshold you saw what he meant. Table was set for three, very nicely, and there was a large spread of food. You and Sam took in the view, a bowl of what looked like mashed potatoes, green beans and corn, fresh bread you were sure he baked himself, stuffing and a gravy boat-wait.

“Thanksgiving?” You offered up and Buddy and released your hands now.

“There you go! You got it!” He said with a clap, still smiling, and you and Sam shared a look of confusion and Buddy’s smile fell a bit, “What? What’s the matter?”

Sam started, “Umm aren’t you a little bit early Buddy boy?”

You nodded in agreement, “Yeah it’s not for more than another month.”

Buddy’s face scrunched, a little as he said, “What are you talking about? Second Monday in October, that’s Thanksgiving!”

“Uh no, Thanksgiving is in November.” Sam asserted.

Buddy replied, “No way! I know what I am talking about, Thanksgiving is the second Monday of October every year, Cam and I basically cooked it ourselves since we were thirteen-”

That is when it clicked.

“American Thanksgiving is in November.” You said and Buddy had his hands on his hips as he said, “No duh. I’m Canadian. I’m talking about Canadian Thanksgiving.”

Honestly you and Sam should be a bit embarrassed it took you this long to figure it out. Buddy is from Canada, had lived there all his life until coming to America and getting hired at Camp Clear Vista and meeting you and Sam.

“But you live in America now?” You asked as you watched Buddy turn towards the stove, there was a big pot of something on one of the burners he was stirring. His response was one simple word, “And?”

Sam laughed a little at the way he said it, something about the teasingly sarcastic way Buddy would retort like that on occasion would really get to him. Sam decided to jump in, “And since you live in America now shouldn’t you assimilate and celebrate our version of the holiday?”

Buddy turned to look at you both over his shoulder, “Me? Assimilate? Why should I have to?”

He turned around, ladle in hand as he continued, “And another thing! I took the day off to cook a really nice meal for the first Thanksgiving we are all together and I haven’t heard a single ‘Gee thanks Buddy-’ or a ‘That's so thoughtful Buddy-’, I’ve been in the kitchen all day here.”

It was still teasing, still light, but he did have a point. It was really nice, it smelt amazing and looked even better. It was absurdly thoughtful, plus it was very sweet that he seemed so excited to celebrate this holiday with the three of you all together that he did all the work himself, I mean he even got dressed up for the occasion.

You came forward first, hands out and coming to rest on his shoulders. “You are right, we should be thanking you.”

Sam was coming up behind you, “Yeah Buddy, really, it looks fantastic, I didn’t realize how hungry I was till I smelt it.”

Once you got started it was hard to stop. So you didn’t.

“Seriously, how sweet are you? Cooking something so special on your day off just for us.” You were sliding close, arms wrapping around his neck and Sam was agreeing, “He spoils us far too much.”

“Truly we are not worthy.” And you saying that had Buddy laughing, “Alright, alright, enough. Save the rest of your compliments till after you eat the damn meal, okay?”

“Okay, whatever the chef wants.” You gave him a quick peck and unwrapped yourself from around him then asked, “So what time is dinner then?”

“Half an hour it will all be good to go. You two can go have a shower and change if you want.”

Buddy was facing the stove again, stirring something, whatever it was it smelled amazing.

He knew you too well because before you, or Sam, could ask he was saying, “It’s mulled apple cider. Old thing Cam and I used to do together every Thanksgiving. Even if she isn’t around anymore-” He paused, a small shrug before saying, “I figured it would be nice to share it with you two.”

That got to you. Made something in your chest heavy, a warm kind of ache, he could be so damn sweet sometimes.

“Well I dunno about Sam but I think showering can wait. I wanna know what I can help with and am dying for a cup of cider.”

“Yeah I can hold off on a shower. What can we do?” Sam asked with a smile, and Buddy was getting mugs out for all of you, “Get your aprons on first off and then I’m gonna show you the best way to carve a turkey.”

It was a half hour later. Wine opened and all sitting down, candles lit and eating, both you and Sam gushing on and off about how good it all was, “Fuck, you know if the food is THIS good, maybe Canadian Thanksgiving is the one we should celebrate from now on.”

“Or. Or! Hear me out here, we celebrate both so we get another meal like this in November.” Sam said and Buddy laughed into his wine glass, leaning back into his chair, “Oh you volun-telling me, huh? Not even gonna ask, just assuming I would be down for that Sammy?”

“As if you don’t live for this kind of thing.” You said it very casually which got another small laugh from your curly haired boyfriend seated across from you.

“She makes a great point, Swanson.” Sam teased and Buddy retorted, a little mocking as he fired back, emphasis on the last name just as Sam had done, “Not the point, Wescott.”

“You’re right though, I should ask, formally-” so Sam cleared his throat in a way that had you fondly rolling your eyes for once as he took Buddy’s hand that wasn’t holding his wine glass. “-would you, do us the honor, of considering making us an equally amazing feast on our inferior American holiday?”

Buddy hummed, thumb stroked over the back of Sam’s hand, making a big show like he was thinking it over very seriously, “Hmmm. Welllll I suppose I could be swayed. Do the dishes tonight and we can talk.”

“You are too kind.” You said and Sam dropped Buddy’s hand, “The kindest. What’s on the menu for dessert?”

“Apple pie, homemade vanilla ice cream.” Buddy said easily and Sam asked, aghast, “Not pumpkin?”

Buddy shook his head as he said, “Nope. Apple.” Sam asking, still sounding offended, “Thanksgiving with no pumpkin pie?”

“Pumpkin is overrated. Apple is superior.” Buddy said it as if it was as clear as day, it made Sam exclaim, “Overrated?!”

You picked up the bottle of wine and poured yourself another glass as you listened to your boyfriend bicker over holiday desserts.

Thanksgiving, Canadian or American was pretty damn great with the two of them.

#BHF writing #Buddy Swanson X Reader #Sam Wescott X Reader #Poly!Camping Boys #I had a great time with this #Hope you all dig it!#Happy Thanksgiving

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broadstbroskis · 3 years

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thanksgiving | jeff skinner

a/n: it’s here!!! this is like 4k that i threw together in like a week after i took it as a personal challenge from @blueskrugs after i asked why we don’t write more thanksgiving fics. a huge shoutout to her and @danglesnipecelly, for inspiration and cheering me on for this, as well as literally anyone else who’s cheered me on to finish thing, you’re all the real mvps and i love you all 💚

-----

Jeff shrugs, and from across the table filled with pizza, beer, and a bunch of other things that are most definitely not on his approved list of foods, you stare at him.

“I dunno. I don’t really have plans, I guess? Probably just sit at home, relax a little?” He says. Your jaw drops. He has...he has what now? “You're going to your parent’s right?” You nod slowly, still stuck on the fact that he’s going to sit at home and do nothing on Thanksgiving, the best of all holidays. Not spend the day with some teammates, not make a quick trip to his family, nothing. “That’ll be fun!” Jeff grins, dimples popping. “What are you-”

“You’re doing nothing?” You get out finally, the words coming back to you.

Jeff’s smile falters, but only slightly, and he nods. “Yeah? I mean, there’s no practice, no games. I’ll just…” He trails off for a second and then shrugs. “Rest.”

“You’re not going to go, like, visit your parents? They’re right across the border!”

“It’s a Thursday.” Jeff says patiently and you abruptly remember that his Canadian-ness is the whole point of this conversation.

“Thanksgiving is the best holiday! You can’t sit at home alone on it; I forbid it!” Jeff’s smile grows again as he laughs and you try and fight your own grin as you shove at his shoulders, to no avail. “Come home with me!”

“What?” He laughs again, but this time, it’s more like disbelief.

But the idea is already growing in your mind. “Come home with me! You know my parents love you, they won’t mind at all!”

“I can’t just invite myself to your Thanksgiving!” Jeff protests.

You wave him off. “You’re not, I’m inviting you! Come on, we’d love to have you!” He still looks hesitant, so you add, “Our Thanksgiving is huge anyway; one extra mouth to feed isn’t going to put anyone out, Jeff.”

“Alright.” He caves, and you grin, pulling your phone close to you to text your mom and let her know. “But ask your mom, okay? Like, really ask her, don’t just, like, tell her I’m coming.”

“Too late!” You say cheerfully, showing him the text you’d sent in your family group chat, telling them you were bringing Jeff with you next week. Your mom’s already responded with a string of happy face emojis and your younger sister with a How I Met Your Mother gif about Canadian Thanksgiving. “Be prepared for a lot of Canada jokes!”

“Is that supposed to be different than any other time I see your family?’ Jeff deadpans, but you’re pretty sure he looks like, at least 50% more relaxed, so you count this as a win and ignore him completely, already mentally planning for the best holiday of the year.

-----

The drive back home to your parents takes about an hour longer than you’d like, stuck in the same godawful traffic as everyone else trying to leave Buffalo on Wednesday so that they can get back home in time to go out that night.

When Jeff finally pulls his car up in front of your childhood home, you can already see that it’s bustling with activity, getting ready for tomorrow. Most of your siblings have already arrived- only your older brother, with his wife and daughters will come in tomorrow, with the rest of your family- but your younger brother and sister have already come home, a fact that’s even more evident when you and Jeff walk in the front door and immediately trip over three pairs of sneakers.

“Liam!” You cry, grabbing onto Jeff so you don’t fall. “Motherfucker, move your shoes!”

Your brother pops his head out of the living room, AirPods in his ears. “I’m on a call!” And just as you're marveling at the fact that your brother is a real person with a real job taking real work calls, said real person with a real job spots Jeff and lights up. “Jeff! Bro! What’s up, man?”

“I thought you were on a call.” You snap at him.

“I’m on mute.” Liam slaps his palm against Jeff’s pulling him in for a ridiculous handshake-bro hug combo, before he finally comes over and lifts you off the floor. “Yo!”

“Yo!” You repeat, honestly unable to believe you’re related to this kid. If the two of you didn’t look exactly alike, you’d probably think he was adopted. “You still coming out tonight?”

“Hell yeah, this is my last call. I’m ready to go.”

You snicker, looking down at his sweatpants and dress shirt combo- he must have taken a video call at some point today. “Yeah, okay, bud.”

He ruffles your hair, in that annoying way he’s been able to do ever since he grew taller than you. “Don’t you worry, I will be.”

You laugh, ducking under his arm, to let him get back to it. You’ve got no doubts about that. Liam’s always ready to party. “Finish your call so we can start pregaming.”

He grins, like you knew he would. “Now we’re talking.” And then he ducks back into your dad’s office.

Jeff is laughing when you look back at him and you give him a look. “What?”

“Nothing, just forgot how the two of you were when you got going.”

“Yup, and you’re stuck with us for next two days!” You grin.

Jeff rolls his eyes at you, but he’s still smiling when he follows you to the kitchen, in search of your mom. She’s at the counter, rolling dough for biscuits, her only other contribution to the annual Thanksgiving dinner that she hosts, besides the turkey; a holiday that she’d taken over hosting once it had become too much for your grandmother to handle, but only on the caveat that everyone began contributing food toward the meal. It’s been a potluck style holiday ever since.

She’s ultra-focused, the volume on her favorite playlist high (this wild mix of 80’s pop and today’s hits that’s actually kind of a banger), so you sneak up behind her and wrap your arms around her. “Hi!”

“Jesus!” Your mom jumps, elbowing you in the process, but you’re laughing too hard to care. “Don’t do that!”

“Just excited to see you!” You beam at her, squeezing her once more, before pulling away. “Where do you want the pie?” Jeff lifts the pie you’d made yesterday, showing your mom.

Your mom purses her lips, studying the kitchen around her. “Leave it on the counter for now; I’ll have your dad clear some space in the garage.” She gestures with her elbow. “Hi Jeff!”

“Hi!” Jeff pulls out his best smile, a real one, dimples super popped. “Thank you for having me-”

Your mom cuts him off before he can finish, like you knew she would. “Oh, we’re so happy you could make it! You’re welcome anytime, Jeff!” She assures him.

“Is the guest room ready?” You ask. “We’ll throw our stuff upstairs before Dad sees it at the bottom of the steps and has a fit.”

Your mom fights back a laugh at that- a statement that everyone in your family knows all too well-but then looks almost apologetic as she finishes, “It is, but we gave it to Katie.”

“Oh, Katie’s here too?” Your sister’s roommate at college was, at this point, basically another sister to you. She hardly went home for breaks within the semesters, usually came up for at least a month during the summer, and more often than not came home with Abby when she was back for anything. The “guest room” really was more like Katie’s room at this point.

“Where else would she be?” Abby appears, right on cue, with Katie right behind her, practically matching in leggings and oversized sorority shirts. “It’s Thanksgiving; she’s ready to rage tonight.”

You actually can’t wait for the babies to be hungover tomorrow-both were 21 for their first Thanksgiving Eve and you know they’re going to be in a super rough spot tomorrow-but you keep that thought to yourself.

“It didn’t even occur to me!” Your mom says apologetically. “I just gave Katie her usual room.”

“No, it’s cool. Jeff and I can share. He doesn’t mind, right?” But you barely even wait for his shrug and nod in agreement. It’s not like you haven’t before, when you’re either too lazy or too drunk to go home. You’re both adults, it’s no big. “I’ve shared a bed with you before; I’ll spare Katie the bruised shins.” You tease your sister.

Katie cracks up as Abby sputters out how rude you are. “It’s a hazard!” Katie agrees, dodging the swat your sister sends towards her. It sets the two of them off, which you take as your cue to grab Jeff’s hand and drag him (and your stuff) up to your room.

Of course, usually when you’re sharing a bed with Jeff, it’s a king sized bed, or at least a queen- definitely not the double that your parents just shoved in your old room to replace the queen bed that had been in there until you moved out and took your furniture with you. You hadn’t realized how small it was though, not until today, until the idea of actually having to share it with someone, with Jeff, who might not be a giant, but isn’t tiny. “Sorry.” You apologize, almost unsure of what you’re saying.

Jeff shrugs. “Well, at least you don’t kick.” He smiles, as then it’s like everything’s back to normal, that awkward feeling that was growing over you gone as quickly as it came.

“She’s a bruiser, don’t let her tell you otherwise.” You throw your bag down, rifling through it for the sweater you were planning to wear tomorrow, to hang it up so it isn’t too wrinkled.

Jeff laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.” He’s holding up his shirt, a button down and a tie. “Where can I hang this?”

“You can’t wear that!”

He frowns, likely at the vehemence you’d just spoken that with. “Uhh, why not?”

“You’ll get roasted.” Seriously, you’d told him it wasn’t a dressy affair. God, what part of not dressy does he think requires a tie? “Don’t you have, like, a sweater?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“Sweater and jeans, that’s fine.”

Jeff gives you a look. “That doesn’t seem-”

“Sweater. And jeans.” You repeat. He’ll thank you tomorrow, when your uncle doesn’t ask him when tea is. When your cousin doesn’t talk to him only in a fake British accent for the entire night.

Jeff hands over a sweater, a soft thing you’ve seen him wear on many occasions, and you smile your thanks at him, hanging it up next to yours. “Meet your standards?” He asks; you think he’s aiming for teasing but he kind of misses the mark, sounding a little more nervous than joking.

“Perfect.” He smiles back at you and you laugh. “Come on, you dork. Let’s go see what’s for dinner tonight.”

-----

“Don’t wake me up when you come in tonight!” Your dad calls, as he drops the five of you off at Mel’s, the bar for Thanksgiving Eve. Your friends are already at the bar, you’re anticipating a high school reunion for sure, and you’ve warned Jeff of this, even though he assured you that he could handle it, and he was just excited for a nice, chill night.

You’d actually laughed out loud at that. Oh Jeffrey.

“Pshh.” Liam waves your dad off. “I haven’t done that since I was like 16 and still having to sneak out.”

Your dad gives him a look. “I was talking to your sister.” He looks over at Abby, who ignores him completely, in favor of taking a SnapChat with Katie, and he sighs resolutely. You all absolutely know she isn’t listening to a word he says. “Have fun, be safe. Uber home.”

Liam salutes him. “Will do.”

Inside the bar, the night starts exactly as you and Liam have started your last few Thanksgiving Eve’s-with a round of shots at the bar as you’re ordering drinks, before splitting off to find your respective friends to start the evening.

Jeff fits in with your friends fantastically, laughing and joking around with them like he’s known them forever, even though you’re sure the only one he’s met is your oldest friend, Ashley. But he greets Ashley and her husband, Brian, like old friends, and quickly joins conversations with all your other friends, and soon hours have passed before your brother is sliding up behind you. “Heads up.” Liam mutters as he passes. “Douche at 3 o’clock.”

You tense as it takes everything in you not to turn and look over. “Hey.” Jeff nudges you, concern clear in his eyes as he looks at you, and you’re not sure what he pulled himself away from, but you must look pretty bad. “You okay?”

You nod, kinda spacily, but leaning in closer to him, and he takes the cue to curl in toward you- you’re not really interested in shouting to the entire bar and you’re really not interested in drawing attention to yourself. “Yeah, just- my ex is over there.”

Jeff purses his lips for a minute and then schools his face back to neutral. “I take it things didn’t end well.”

“No.” You say, thinking of the demise of your relationship with Dylan. “It did not.”

You hadn’t even realized that Jeff grabbed your hand until he’s squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shake your head. “It was...definitely for the best.” It might have taken you a while to see that, but you can now, even if the rare instances you still see Dylan sometimes rattles you. “I thought I was going to marry him, at one point, but I’m so much happier here now.”

Jeff smiles. “Good.”

You squeeze his hand once more, a thanks for his comfort and care, before both of you rejoin the conversation, and you forget about Dylan entirely for the next hour, until you physically run into him coming back from the bar with another round of drinks for you and Jeff.

“Hey!” Dylan beams at you, goes right in for a cheek kiss, like you’re still that familiar, and once again you stiffen up.

“Hi.” You return politely, ready to sidestep around him and return to Jeff and your friends.

“No, wait.” Dylan steps with you, blocking your path. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Let’s catch up a minute, what’s new?”

“No offense, Dylan, but I’m not really looking to catch up with you.” You say flatly.

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can another voice cuts in. “Everything okay here?” Jeff asks politely, stepping very purposefully next to you, and Dylan’s eyes immediately fly over to him.

“Mhmm,” You nod. “Was just on my way back to you.”

“Good.” Jeff says, in a tone far more harsh than you usually hear him take. “Let’s get back.” He positions himself again, clearing a space for you to easily slip past Dylan, and then steps closely behind you, catching up quickly.

“Thanks.” You lean against him, gently, not looking to spill either of your drinks, but Jeff solves that problem by taking his.

“Any time.” Jeff says softly and you don’t have much else to say on the matter so you just nudge him once more in thanks and walk back toward your friends with him at your side.

-----

When you wake up the next morning, you’re warm and comfortable and only a little hungover, which you count as a huge success. There’s not too much noise going on downstairs yet, which means you definitely have some more time to sleep, so you curl back into your pillow, humming contently when it pulls you in closer.

And then your eyes pop open abruptly, because pillows don’t do that.

Except they do when they look like Jeff Skinner, who looks just as soft and warm and comfortable as you feel right now, still sleeping judging by the evenness of his breath.

It’s just...it’s a really nice way to wake up, with Jeff’s kind-of smiling face, looking super soft and cozy as he breathes just on the wrong side of too loud, but not so loudly that it drives you nuts.

It’s a little too early to unpack that, and your hangover might not be that bad but it’s definitely bad enough that you’re not ready to think on that, so you close your eyes and let yourself curl into Jeff and fall back asleep.

-----

When you do finally get out of bed, Thanksgiving morning is its usual chaos, running around with last minute errands, cleaning, and helping your mom in the kitchen. The last to shower for the day, by the time you arrive downstairs, the Lions vs. Bears game is well underway, your notoriously early grandparents have already arrived, and your grandmother is already asking your mom where that one turkey decoration she bought her one year is.

You bypass the kitchen entirely and move toward the living room, where you find your dad, grandfather, Jeff, and siblings all gathered, just as you’d expected. You slide down on the floor next to Jeff, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before more of your family arrives and you’re offering your set up anyway, and wait for the next round of chaos to begin.

It doesn’t take long. Your aunts, uncles, and cousins start pouring in and then it’s just introduction after introduction, as you wrap up showing off Jeff to one group just as the next arrives. You are absolutely confident he has no idea who anyone is, but it’s fine, because he’s still laughing and joking around with all your uncles and cousins that have joined you in watching football.

The kitchen is its own brand of chaos, when you make a quick stop in on your back from a beer run, but chaos has never stopped your aunt before and it certainly isn’t today. “Oh my god!” She exclaims, after you’ve pressed a smacking kiss to the top of your grandmom’s head. “That boy!”

“What boy?” You ask, like an idiot, which is immediately clear from the looks you get from everyone in the kitchen, even your usually oblivious uncle, who’s doing...something...with the ham they’d brought. “Who, Jeff?”

“Yes.” Another aunt stresses. “He’s cute!”

You shrug. “Yeah, I mean-”

But your grandmom cuts you off this time. “And so friendly! Just the nicest boy! Oh, you couldn’t have found anyone better!” She exclaims.

“Well, I haven’t.” You announce, watching all of their faces fall. “So sorry to burst that bubble.”

“Why?” One of your older cousins frowns. “Girl. Get on that. You are not going to do better than that boy in there.”

“I truly don’t know if that was meant to be a dig at me or you all think that highly of Jeff already, but regardless. We are just friends.” Now everyone in the kitchen is giving you a look. You gather the beers and retreat, distributing them as you return to your spot on the floor near Jeff.

He’s giving you a look as you pass him his, but whatever’s on your face must not be too bad, because he just thanks you as you pass him the bottle, and you nod in return as you try to find the same comfortable spot as before, leaning against his thigh.

-----

Your dad catches you a bit later, as he’s coming back with beers this time and you’re coming out of the bathroom, and he nudges you carefully as you take a few bottles from his hand. “So Jeff?”

You groan. The tone of that statement was far too loaded. “Jesus, you too?”

Your dad laughs. “Who else?”

“Everyone.”

“Well maybe that should be your hint.” Your dad says teasingly, but also not? There’s definitely some seriousness to this. “That Jeff’s pretty perfect for you.”

You stare at him. “You’ve met Jeff, like, a hundred times. Why’s this coming out now?”

“I always thought you were my smart kid and that you’d figure it out yourself.” He muses. “Now I realize you’re only book-smart and you’d never figure this out on your own.” And then he leaves you there in the hallway, with your jaw dropped and too many thoughts, as he continues on, laughing at you.

-----

When the call to come serve yourselves echoes into the room, the usual mad scramble follows immediately. It’s only as you’re getting into line behind your brother that you realize that Jeff’s not with you anymore, and you abandon the long line waiting for food, in favor of seeking out Jeff.

You find Jeff upstairs, in your room, just kind of lounging on your bed, and you lean against the doorway. “Hey! Food’s ready.”

“Yeah.” Jeff nods, the smile he sends you back in return far too tight and forced to be genuine. “Be right down.”

But he doesn’t move, so you step in and climb into your bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

Jeff laughs; it’s kind of hollow and doesn’t sound anything like his usual loud laugh or his giggles that you love. “What- nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Jeff.” You say softly. “Come on.”

He sighs. “Why did you bring me here?”

That...was not at all what you expected. “What?”

“Why did you bring me here?” He repeats. “Why did you bring me home, to your family? I thought, maybe, finally…” He trails off for a minute. “Except, there’s like ten other randos here too!” He laughs again, that hollow thing that you’re already hating. “Everybody in this family just brings people home, and that’s awesome, okay? Please don’t ever change that about yourself. I just-I thought we had something special, is all.” He says, sounding almost sad? Melancholy?

“You are special.” You hate this. Jeff should never be sad; he should always be happy and smiling and joking. This is worse than seeing him after losses, worse than seeing him at low points in the season, that one game when he realizes that shit’s done and they’re just playing to keep playing now, that playoffs won’t be coming this year, again. “Jeff, you’re-”

“I’m in love with you.” Jeff says and it’s so straight-up, matter-of-fact, like it’s never not been a fact for him. “And I’m sorry I’ve fucked things up here for tonight and made this so awkward. I just- being here with you and your family just made me want you that much more.”

There’s so so so much you want to say to Jeff, but it’s like time is frozen. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything except look at him in awe, until he starts to move off your bed, when you reach for him, finally, resting your hand on his thigh, relieved when he looks back at you. “My dad thinks I’m an idiot.” You blurt out and Jeff just gives you a look. “I’m sorry; that wasn’t what I wanted to say.” You take a deep breath, trying to gather the jumble of thoughts in your head. “Or at least, not the only thing. He thinks I’m an idiot because he thinks you’re perfect for me and I didn’t see it. My whole family thinks you’re perfect- cute and friendly and nice- and god, Jeff, you are! You’re all those things!” He’s still watching you, with like, barely the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “I just-didn’t realize you were perfect for me until we came here.”

Now he’s full on beaming, dimples showing, and you don’t even realize that you’re returning the grin until his hand comes up to your face, thumbing at the corner of your lip. “I’m sorry I’m a dumbass.” You finish lamely, too busy smiling at Jeff. “Please kiss me so we can make sure we get biscuits.”

Jeff hums. “I don’t know if I can kiss you now and just...stop.”

“Well I’m not going down to eat until you do.” You say stubbornly. “And you’ve been hyping up those biscuits since breakfast.”

“Fair enough.” Jeff laughs and then you’re smiling into the best first kiss you’ve ever had, tangling your hands into his hair and wondering if you may actually end up missing the meal this year.

#jeff skinner imagine #jeff skinner fanfic #jeff skinner fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #Hockey Fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #my hockey fics

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fireladybuckley · 3 years

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A Thousand Knives of Ice

Fandom: 9-1-1 Pairing: Evan Buckley (Buck) x Eddie Diaz (Buddie) Prompt: Falling through the ice Word Count: 10,661 Summary: While on a roadtrip through the Canadian Rockies with Eddie and Christopher, Buck attempts to rescue a child with disastrous consequences for his own safety, leaving Eddie to take charge and nurse him back to health. Rating: PG Author’s note: I had an absolute blast writing this! Please let me know in the replies or reblogs if you liked it! It’s my first Buddie fic, but will most assuredly not be my last. :D

“You know, I think I’m actually getting used to the cold,” Buck grinned as he hopped out of the SUV, pulling a knitted toque onto his head, a few curls of hair sticking out the front. “Maybe they’ll make me an honourary Canadian soon.”

Eddie, who had just gotten out of the vehicle on the other side, rolled his eyes and smiled indulgently at Buck’s enthusiasm. Less than two weeks ago at the beginning of their month-long trip, Buck had sworn he’d never be warm again and complained incessantly about the cold.

“That’s because it’s like 2 Celsius,” Eddie laughed, slamming his door and moving around to the back of the SUV. “It’s unseasonably warm for this time of year.”

“What’s that in Fahrenheit again?” Buck asked, squinting through the sun and watching a raven fly past them, cawing in its deep, croaking voice.

“35 or 36,” Eddie replied, pulling open the trunk and watching as Buck bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly itching to go and explore.

Eddie, Buck and Christopher had been on this road trip for about ten days, driving from Alaska, down through the Canadian Rockies. Eventually they would head back down into the USA, following the mountains down through Utah and back home to LA. It had been a blast so far, and Eddie was never sure who was more excited every time they stopped somewhere new: Buck, or Christopher. Buck hadn’t done much travelling when he was younger and Christopher was obsessed with mountains after doing a project on them in school the previous year, so it had seemed the perfect trip to take. Christopher had really wanted to see the mountains in winter, so Eddie had pulled him out of school a couple of weeks early before Thanksgiving break. Eddie knew he really shouldn’t miss so much school, but after everything Christopher had gone through last year or so with moving to California, losing his mom, the tsunami, and everything else, Eddie thought he deserved a special break. Buck had agreed, and so they’d appealed to Bobby to let them go and flew to Anchorage, where they rented an SUV and began to drive.

“What’s this place called?” Eddie asked as he dug around in the trunk, pulling out the sled and Christopher’s winter jacket. He’d lost track of all the places they had stopped in the last few days, first around Jasper and now near Banff, Alberta.

“Lake Minnewanka,” Buck read off the nearby sign, pointing at it. “Ooo, they have boat tours.”

“Probably only in the summer though,” Eddie pointed out. “Pretty hard to boat when the lake is frozen.”

“Ah. Right.” Buck seemed disappointed, and Eddie was unable to resist giving him a quick hug as he came around to his side of the SUV.

“Sorry Buck,” Eddie chuckled, patting his shoulder. “I promise, we’ll come back someday in the summer.”

Buck laughed and pulled on his jacket as Eddie moved past him to get Christopher ready. Buck was looking around eagerly, the sight of the large dock in the distance drawing his attention. He was aching to explore again, but he reigned himself in as he listened to Eddie talking to Christopher.

“Ready to go down to the docks, bud?” Eddie was asking Christopher, who grinned at him but shook his head.

“I gotta pee first, Dad,” he said, holding up an empty Gatorade bottle. Eddie laughed and helped Christopher get out of the SUV, looking over and seeing that Buck was still staring longingly down at the lake.

“Go ahead and look around,” Eddie told him, steadying Christopher as he stood for the first time in a couple of hours. “We’ll be a little while.”

“You sure?” Buck asked, reaching out and ruffling Christopher’s hair fondly, prompting a giggle from him.

“Yeah, go on. We’ll meet you down there in a few.”

“Okay! See you soon,” Buck said, leaning over and giving Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek. Buck stepped back and watched Eddie slowly lead Christopher towards the bathrooms and then began to walk down a long hill towards the docks, face turned upwards, letting the sun soak into his skin. Considering it was still very much colder here than it ever was in LA, Buck was finally not feeling too cold and he smiled as he walked, thinking he could get used to this. It was a nice change not to feel sweaty every time he went outside, though he thought he would never get used to the kind of cold they had experienced when they’d landed in Alaska, which had been in the -30s.

Buck slowed his walk as he stepped onto the docks, looking around. The large lake, which curved out of sight in the distance, was surrounded by multiple mountains and the view was breathtaking. He had seen photos of this place in the summer, when the water was turquoise with glacial dust, but now the ice made the dark blue water beneath seem cold and limitless, and in places there were streams of bubbles that had frozen into white, oblong spheres beneath the surface. Making a mental note to point these out to Christopher, Buck continued up one fork of the large T shaped dock, barely even noticing other people around until he heard a scream behind him.

Buck whipped around at the sound, instantly on edge and alert, scanning the small assortment of people scattered around. Another scream brought his focus to a small family, a woman and a young boy on the dock, looking out over the lake in horror. Buck followed their gaze and his eyes locked on a flash of pink, which he realized a moment later was a woolen toque, not unlike the one he was wearing himself. Adrenaline pumping through him, Buck was already running towards them as the mother screamed again.

“Help! Someone help! She fell through!” The mother was clearly panicking, unsure of what to do as she was torn between jumping out onto the ice herself and staying with her younger son.

“Stay with him,” Buck ordered as he skidded to a stop beside her and looked over to see the girl floundering in the water about thirty feet away, desperately trying to grab hold of the ice and screaming. Buck lowered his foot over the edge of the dock and found, after putting some pressure down, that the ice was solid, at least this close to the dock. Carefully, he stepped completely off the dock, arms out for balance.

“What’s her name?” He asked the mother as he unzipped his coat and pulled it off, intending to use it as something the girl could grab onto.

“Molly, she’s Molly,” the woman sobbed, clinging to her younger son. “Please save her! I can’t swim!”

“I’ll get her, don’t worry,” Buck told her reassuringly, already edging away from the dock, trying to be careful but also acutely aware that the girl was quickly freezing in the water.

About fifteen feet from the dock, Buck felt like the ice was thinning and looked down to see spiderwebs of cracks starting to splinter away from his feet. A wave of fear shot through him and he cautiously lowered himself down to the surface of the ice, remembering from a training video long ago that it was the best way to spread his weight and not break the ice.

“Molly, just hang on, I’m coming!” Buck called to the girl, sliding closer to her on his belly, ignoring the chill of the ice quickly sinking through his shirt. The girl was still screaming and crying, trying to hold on to the edge of the ice she’d fallen through but kept losing her grip. As Buck got closer he estimated she was maybe seven years old and quite small; if he could get a good grip on her he should be able to pull her out.

Once he was about six feet away from her, he could feel the ice moving under his weight and slowed to a stop, worried that if he went any further it would collapse under him. Sucking in a sharp breath as some water that had slopped over the edge of the ice from her flailing soaked into his shirt and against his skin, Buck did his best to ignore the sharp stabs of the cold and tossed his jacket towards the girl, holding on to the opposite sleeve.

The edge of the other sleeve fell just short of the hole and Buck swore, creeping closer as slow as he dared, feeling his heart hammering in his chest as he knew the girl was in severe danger of hypothermia the longer he took. He crept a good six inches closer, then tried to toss the jacket again, letting out a breath of relief as the other sleeve hit the water this time.

“Grab hold of the sleeve, Molly!” he called to the girl. “I’ll pull you up!”

“I c-can’t!” Molly cried, trying to grab the sleeve, but Buck could see she was losing control of her movements, her muscles no doubt completely seizing from the cold.

Steeling himself and thinking he was probably going to regret this, Buck began to edge closer, focusing entirely on the ice around him and the little girl’s face, every sound in the background fading, even the mother’s screams of fear. Finally, he was only a couple of feet away and he reached out his hand, gritting his teeth as the frigid water splashed onto him, soaking his arm, splashing his face.

“Come on, Molly! Grab my hand!” he shouted to her, trying to stay as far back as he could while still holding his arm out. “You can do it!”

Buck was about to call to her again, encourage her, but when he reached a little more, trying to move his hand closer to her without actually moving closer to her, he felt the ice crack below his chest. Buck immediately froze, trying to decide if he should try to back up again, but he knew intrinsically that it was too late. He knew a single moment of panic in his mind, as he heard and felt the ice under him crack again, vaguely aware that Eddie’s voice in the distance was calling his name, before the ice completely gave way under him and he was plunged into the dark, icy depths.

Buck’s whole body was submerged before he even had a chance to realize the ice was gone and every skin cell was screaming simultaneously in agony from the cold. It felt like being stabbed by a thousand knives, like being consumed by fire and ice at once and Buck momentarily couldn’t think or move, his body rigid with shock as all of his muscles seized up.

* * *

Eddie had just gotten to the docks with Christopher when he’d seen Buck lower himself to the surface of the ice many feet from the dock and realized something bad was happening. He’d told Christopher to stay where he was and bolted across the dock past a few other people to where the mother was crouching, holding her other child and sobbing.

“You! Call 9-1-1! And please watch my kid!” Eddie ordered, spinning around and pointing at the person he’d just passed, who was watching everything proceed with a look of horror on her face, then pointing towards where Christopher sat in his sled at the edge of the lake. She started as Eddie pointed at her, surprised to be addressed, but she nodded and immediately dug for her phone in her purse, moving towards Christopher as Eddie continued to the edge of the dock nearest the hole in the ice.

Eddie called to Buck multiple times, trying to get his attention, but Buck seemed laser-focused on the little girl thrashing in the water and Eddie realized he wasn’t hearing him. Adrenaline pumping through him now, Eddie looked around wildly and on the other side of the docks saw a coil of rope hanging on a mooring post where he assumed a boat was usually tied in the summer. Eddie sprinted towards it, nearly wiping out on a slick patch of ice as he tried to stop too quickly. The rope was frozen to the post, but with a few good pulls Eddie was able to get it free. He hoisted it over his shoulder and sprinted back towards the other side of the dock, hoping beyond hope that he’d get back and get the rope out before the worst happened.

Unfortunately, Eddie has just come to a stop beside the mother when the ice gave way. Eddie screamed Buck’s name, watching, horror-struck, as Buck’s form disappeared under the surface of the water with a splash. Fear and panic gripped Eddie’s heart as he waited, terrified, seeing no sign of Buck except his green wool hat floating to the surface.

* * *

Something slammed into Buck’s shoulder as he floated there, suspended a couple of feet under the water, still in shock. The impact startled him enough that he was suddenly able to move again, and he forced his body to pump his arms so that he could right himself. After a moment of furiously swiping his arms, his head finally broke the surface and the sound of his coughs and gasps for air reverberated around them.

Eddie nearly cried with relief when Buck’s head appeared above the water, and he frantically began unwinding the rope, unsticking it from itself where it was frozen in several places, desperately trying to move as fast as possible.

Buck, meanwhile, realized that the thing that had impacted his shoulder was the little girl’s frantically kicking legs. He was only a few feet from her now and though his entire body still felt like it was being stabbed while simultaneously on fire, he tried his best to fall back into firefighting mode and channel his adrenaline into helping her. Her movements were quickly weakening and he swam the distance between them, grabbing her around the waist and holding her tight to his chest.

“I-I’ve g-got you,” he told her, trying to sound confident even though his voice was shaking as he shivered violently. She clung to him, sobbing and shaking like a leaf, as he struggled to swim sideways towards the side of the ice, every stroke more difficult as the cold quickly ate away at his strength.

At the edge of the ice, Buck grabbed hold of it, testing how strong it was. It would definitely not hold his weight, but it seemed strong enough to hold hers. Desperately kicking in an attempt to keep his blood flowing and to keep them afloat, Buck extricated the girl from around his neck.

“I’m g-going to push you up onto the ice. You need t-to crawl to your m-mom as soon as you’re up th-there, okay?” Buck told her firmly, trying to convey how important it was that she do as he was asking, despite his shaking voice. She was clearly still terrified but she nodded through her trembles, and he smiled at her, trying to reassure her.

“You’re r-really brave. You’ve g-got th-this!” he told her, maneuvering so he was behind her and she was facing the ice, facing the docks. He took as deep of a breath as he could manage with his tight chest muscles, steadied his grip on her waist and hoisted her as hard as he could. She didn’t raise up nearly as high as he’d expected her to, his muscles starting to seize up considerably from the cold, and she floundered awkwardly on the ice, her ribs stuck on the edge. He pushed again, as hard as he could, and felt her move upwards and forward this time. The momentum of pushing her so hard forced him back down, though, and he choked on the icy water as his head was submerged again. The frigidity of the water over his head gave him an instant, piercing headache and he struggled to get back to the surface, shuddering as the icy water streamed from his hair down his face and neck. The next moments were a confusing mess of flailing limbs and splashing water. Molly accidentally kicked Buck square in the nose at one point as she tried to propel herself forward and Buck noted in vague surprise that his face was so numb he’d barely felt the impact, though seconds later felt oddly warm blood join the water pouring down his face as he rose above the surface again, coughing and spluttering.

Finally, through joint effort, Molly was completely out of the water. Buck grabbed hold of her feet and gave one last push as hard as he could, the momentum shoving him backwards. She slid forward on the ice as Buck fell back into the water, his head submerging below the surface yet again.

* * *

Eddie was practically vibrating with adrenaline and panic as he watched Buck trying to save the girl, frantically uncoiling the rope. He finally managed to unwind it all and ran over to stand beside the mom as Buck tried valiantly to lift the girl onto the ice. Eddie watched helplessly as Buck had to keeping pushing her upwards, forcing himself back under the water several times in his attempts. Eddie called Buck’s name again, but Buck didn’t hear him.

Quickly and expertly, Eddie tied a large loop in the rope, knotting it tightly. He slid the loop around his shoulders to make sure it was large enough that Buck could get it over his own and pulled it off, satisfied that it would be the right size. He urged the mom and her son to move away and planted himself firmly on the dock, knowing he’d get better traction here than on the ice, as much as he desperately wanted to rush forward onto the ice and save them.

“BUCK!” Eddie yelled in fear and dismay, watching as Buck managed to get the girl up onto the ice, but then disappeared below the surface yet again. Shaking himself, Eddie wound up and threw the loop towards the girl, who gave a little yelp of fright as it landed right in front of her face.

“Sorry! Grab the rope, sweetheart!” Eddie called, trying to focus on the girl while also watching the water, waiting for Buck to resurface. Molly managed to get an arm through the loop and held on as tight as she could as Eddie began pulling her in. She was light, even with her sodden winter clothing, and she slid quickly across the ice towards them as he pulled.

Within moments she was right beside the docks and Eddie reached down to pick her up, looking out at the water at the same time. The cold water from her jacket stung his hands as he set her down beside her mother, fear gripping him. Buck had been under too long. Eddie was just starting to think he might have passed out and was about to leap onto the ice without another though when Buck’s head finally reappeared, and Eddie could hear him gasping and coughing. Both relief and intense worry set his body alight as he turned to the mother and tried to instruct her as fast as he could.

“Get her to your car and get all of her wet clothes off. Wrap her in a blanket or warm, dry clothes but don’t warm her up too fast or she could go into cardiac arrest. The paramedics should be here really soon.”

The woman nodded, clutching her sobbing daughter to her side. She picked Molly up and began to run along the dock and towards the parking lot, her son trailing behind her. Eddie spared a momentary glance to make sure Christopher was still sitting where he’d left him, the woman with the cell phone beside him, then turned back to the ice.

“Buck! BUCK! Can you hear me?” Eddie yelled as he gathered up the rope and began to wind it again so he could throw it out to Buck, who was just barely clinging to the edge of the ice and looked like death, even from this distance.

* * *

It had been very hard, that last time, to get himself back to the surface. Buck had been in the water for at least seven minutes by then and his muscles were so stiff he could barely move. The sensation of a million knives stabbing his skin had slowly been replaced by a numbness so complete he felt like he was barely in his own body anymore. He’d stopped shivering and struggled to find which way was up. He swallowed some water as he ran out of breath just as he’d finally broke the surface, coughing violently and choking on the water, awkwardly trying to keep himself afloat and keep his head above water. He tried to hold on to the edge of the ice, but he couldn’t feel his hands and everything was so slippery that he kept losing his grip, forced to clumsily tread water with his rapidly stiffening limbs.

It was several moments before Buck realized he could hear Eddie’s voice calling to him and looked around, finally seeing Eddie’s form on the docks a good way away. Buck’s brain seemed to be lagging behind, processing things slowly, but he eventually managed to focus on Eddie as he clung to the edge of the ice, forcing himself to kick every so often to stop himself completely sinking under the water again. Buck attempted to heave himself upwards, but he had used so much of his energy getting the girl out that he had none left to hoist himself.

“I’m going to throw you the rope!” Eddie shouted, worriedly watching as Buck clumsily tried to hold onto the ice but kept slipping off, everything too slicked with water to hold his grip. “Put it under your arms!”

Buck tried to call back to him but felt like he couldn’t get enough air to speak, so he gave a weak thumbs up, letting out a soft cry as he lost his grip on the ice once more and fell back, spluttering as a wave of frigid water splashed over his head.

Eddie bit his lip in worry and determination and launched the rope with a practiced swing. It unfurled beautifully in the air, but stopped many feet short of the hole on the ice. Swearing, Eddie pulled it back as fast as he could, winding as he went, realizing he was going to have to step onto the ice for the rope to get close enough. The girl had gotten much closer to him before he’d thrown it the first time.

Buck was rapidly losing control of his muscles as he tried to keep himself afloat. His arms and legs were so stiff it took all of his effort to move them, all of his brain power to remind himself to kick to keep his head above water. The only thing that kept pulling his attention was the feeling of the blood still pouring out of his nose. He was too numb to feel the pain, but his blood felt sickeningly hot as it trickled out of his nose, dripping onto his lips and chin. He tried to keep wiping it away, but the stark contrast of the scarlet blood on his pale fingers made his stomach churn.

Eddie could see that Buck was having difficulty holding on and felt his hands shaking as he finished reeling in the rope. As he adjusted his grip to throw again, he could see Buck slowly tipping backwards as he fruitlessly tried to grip the ice, and Eddie worried that he was starting to black out.

“Kick, Buck!” Eddie shouted, winding up to throw the rope again. “You can do this!”

Relieved as Buck clearly heard him and sluggishly righted himself in the water, Eddie stepped onto the ice and crept a few feet forward, stopping only when he was sure there was enough rope to reach. He planted his feet as firmly as he could, swung, and released the rope. Thankfully, this time the rope landed right in front of Buck on the edge of the ice.

“Grab it! Under your arms!” Eddie yelled, trying to encourage Buck, who looked absolutely bedraggled and exhausted. Eddie’s heart broke for him as Buck tried valiantly to grab at the rope and missed several times before his stiff fingers finally caught on the thick cord.

Buck tried as hard as he could to be fast, but his muscles were so stiff he could barely lift the rope once he got a grip on it. He couldn’t feel his fingers or his hands at all, so maneuvering the rope was difficult. He managed to get it around his neck and under one of his armpits, but he was having trouble bending his other arm enough to thread it up through the loop. He could hear Eddie shouting encouragement at him, noticed the tone to the words becoming more frantic the longer it took him to move.

Finally, after another minute or so, Buck managed to get both arms through the loop and settled it under his armpits. Eddie immediately began to pull until he felt resistance, as Buck’s chest bumped up against the ice. Buck reached out slowly, achingly, trying to pull himself up, not having a lot of luck. Some of the ice broke under the weight of his arms and he cried out as a fresh wave washed over him.

“Come on Buck, kick! You can do this,” Eddie called to him, his voice cracking slightly with emotion as he watched Buck struggle to the new edge. “I love you, I’m right here, you can do this!”

Buck looked up at Eddie through the haze of pain and exhaustion, trying to draw strength from his words. He could see that Eddie, the man he loved, was clearly scared out of his mind and worried for him, and he knew that somewhere, Christopher was probably scared too. The thought of the two of them filled him with metaphorical warmth, and he felt a last wave of strength and determination wash over him.

As Eddie yelled “Pull, Buck!” and tugged on the rope, Buck let out a shout of determination, pain, and anguish and heaved himself upwards as hard as he could, clinging to the rope, using every ounce of his remaining energy. He heard Eddie let out a whoop of relief as Buck managed to get his elbows out of the water and prop himself on the surface of the ice, which mercifully held him this time. Eddie dug his heels in and began to pull, hard, nearly slipping on the ice himself but just managing to stay upright.

“Kick! Kick as much as you can, Buck!” Eddie yelled, his muscles straining as he pulled.

After an enormous amount of effort on both of their parts, Buck’s upper body finally left the water and he splayed out on the ice on his belly, drops of crimson blood hitting the surface under his face. Eddie kept pulling, taking a few steps backwards as he did so until he was at the dock’s edge. He hopped back up onto the wooden surface so he would have better traction and then began to pull Buck in as fast as he could. Buck was too weak to help, too weak to do much of anything but attempt to hold on to the rope as he was dragged forward, leaving a wide swath of water shining on the surface of the ice behind him. It felt like hours were passing as he moved across the surface a few inches at a time, and eventually he felt so weak that his head drooped, resting on his outstretched arm.

“Buck!” Eddie cried when he saw Buck’s head loll, thinking he had passed out, but then Buck moved his legs on his own and he realized he was still conscious. Still, spurred on by the fright, Eddie pulled as hard as he could, sweat pouring down his face from the effort, and finally Buck was within reach.

Someone he hadn’t noticed nearby rushed forward and helped him pull Buck up onto the dock and Eddie hit his knees on the wood, pulling Buck into his lap, barely feeling the shock of the cold water soaking into his pants. Eddie was unable to stop himself touching Buck’s face, pushing his sopping hair out of his eyes, putting his hand around Buck’s head and tilting it towards his, his hands shaking with relief. Buck moaned, taking fast, shallow breaths, mostly limp in Eddie’s arms, his eyes firmly closed as he stirred feebly.

“Buck, Buck! Stay with me,” Eddie pleaded, as Buck’s eyes refused to open and he moaned softly again, once again scared that he had lost consciousness. As though through sheer force of will, Buck’s eyelids fluttered weakly and then slowly opened, and his gaze met Eddie’s.

“Eddie,” Buck murmured, his voice so soft and breathless Eddie barely heard it. It wasn’t a question, more like an acknowledgement and Eddie felt tears well in his eyes at how broken Buck sounded. Eddie stroked Buck’s cheek and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his frozen lips, so thankful to be holding him again that he momentarily forgot everything else. He hadn’t realized just how scared he’d been until this moment, holding Buck in his arms.

Eddie had almost lost Buck so many times already; in the fire truck explosion, in the tsunami; hell he’d almost gotten taken out by a driverless, flaming car careening down a hill when they’d gone to Texas. Almost losing him again had terrified Eddie so thoroughly that his hands now shook uncontrollably as he stroked Buck’s hair, whispering to him that he was okay, that he had him, that he would be just fine. Buck’s eyes slowly closed again and his head rested heavily on Eddie’s chest, still regularly letting out small gasps for air, clearly unable to take a proper breath.

After a moment, Eddie shook himself; Buck needed care right now, not emotions. Swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking back the tears in his eyes, Eddie got to work. First, he reached down and began tugging Buck’s sodden forest-green sweater off of him, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Buck moaned as his bare skin was exposed to the air, and Eddie shushed him gently, reassuringly. Eddie quickly stripped off his own jacket and button-up t-shirt, leaving him in just a tank top. He quickly used his t-shirt to dry off as much of Buck’s skin as he could, feeling horrible for him, his skin icy cold everywhere Eddie touched. Once he was as dry as Eddie could get him with the t-shirt, he carefully sat Buck up, drying his back as much as possible as well.

Buck groaned as Eddie sat him up, feeling all his stiff muscles resisting the movement, but he did his best to help stay upright as he felt Eddie pulling his arm into a jacket sleeve. It was a weird sensation; he could see Eddie pulling the fabric over his arms, but he could barely feel anything. His skin felt like cold stone, unresponsive to touch. He could kind of feel the weight of the jacket once it was properly settled on him, but couldn’t really feel the touch of the fabric on his skin.

“Come on, Buck, we have to get you up,” Eddie said encouragingly, bending over in front of Buck and reaching for him. Buck whimpered involuntarily as he clung to Eddie’s arms and Eddie all but picked him up, Buck’s muscles screaming in protest. He nearly fell over as soon as he was standing, his knees buckling instantly under his weight.

Buck was breathing fast and shallow and felt dizzy as hell as he teetered on the spot; the only reason he didn’t collapse was because Eddie was holding onto him. Eddie wrapped his arm around Buck’s waist and pulled Buck’s arm up behind his neck, supporting the vast majority of Buck’s weight as his legs refused to do the job. With a lot of encouragement Buck was able to shuffle forwards, and Eddie half-carried, half-dragged him slowly along the dock. He glanced back only once, vaguely noting that Buck’s jacket was laying on the ice, then looking away, focusing instead on where he could see Christopher still sitting on his sled, the woman he’d had call 9-1-1 still standing on the shore beside him.

It took many long minutes to get Buck even close to the edge of the dock; the farther they moved, the more heavily Buck leaned on Eddie, what little strength he had very quickly leaving him. Eddie shivered slightly in the cold breeze and felt instantly guilty; if he was cold in his mostly dry tank top, how the hell did Buck feel? Eddie’s head and heart suddenly lifted as he heard sirens approaching, and a moment later, an ambulance pulled into view at the top of the hill and parked, killing the sirens.

“Eddie,” Buck muttered, speaking to the ground because he could barely lift his head, his speech slurred. “Need to stop. Can’t feel my legs.”

“Just a few more steps,” Eddie told him, tightening his grip on Buck’s waist and pulling him along. They were almost to the end of the dock, and there was a bench on the shore that Eddie could sit Buck down on for a moment, just until the paramedics got down there. Eddie saw the mother waving at the medics and they went over to her car first, where he could just barely see a small figure wrapped in a blanket.

Buck groaned but did his best to obey, shuffling forward like an old man, his grip on Eddie getting looser instead of tighter as his energy waned and he came dangerously close to collapsing. They had barely made it to the bench when Buck stumbled and began to fall. Eddie managed to steer Buck to the side and he collapsed on the bench instead of the ground, Eddie losing his footing as well and nearly falling again.

“Dad!” Christopher shouted at him as he righted himself, and Eddie realized he’d be so focused on Buck he hadn’t heard his kid calling to him. “Is Buck okay?”

“Yeah, mijo, he’s okay.” Eddie made sure that Buck was securely lying on the bench before turning to the woman whom he’d asked to watch Christopher.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate you watching him,” he told her gratefully, the stress and mounting worry evident in his voice. She smiled grimly at him with a nod, then looked over at Buck.

“Is he okay?” she asked, in a very different tone than Christopher, and Eddie knew she thought he’d been sugar coating it for his kid.

“He will be, he just needs to warm up and get a lot of rest,” Eddie said, running a damp hand through his hair. “Can I ask you one more favour?”

“Of course.”

“Can you go up there and tell the medics they need to come down here too? In case the mom forgets.” Eddie didn’t blame her if she did; if it was Christopher who had fallen in the water, he would have been laser-focused on him too.

“Absolutely,” she agreed, nodding. She started to turn away, then looked back at him with a smile. “Tell your husband he’s a hero, when he’s feeling better.”

Eddie found himself smiling at this, feeling his heart swell as he thought of Buck. The brave idiot had scared the shit out of him once again, but Eddie swore it only made him love him more.

“Not husband yet,” he said, looking over at Buck, who was still lying where he’d fallen on the bench, “but don’t worry, I plan on telling him the second he’s coherent.”

The woman smiled and turned to make her way up the hill, and Eddie pulled Christopher’s sled closer to the bench, sinking down onto it beside Buck. He gently pulled Buck onto his lap, half-sitting him up so he could lean on Eddie’s chest, holding him close as they waited. Buck gave a very soft gasp followed by a moan and turned his face towards Eddie’s chest, he soaked hair leaving a wet spot on Eddie’s tank top.

“Did Buck save that girl?” Christopher asked, pointing in the direction of the water, and then the parking lot.

“Yeah, he did,” Eddie told him, squeezing Buck to acknowledge him. Buck, while still conscious, had his eyes closed, and Eddie got the impression he wasn’t really hearing them. Eddie slipped his fingers down to Buck’s throat and surreptitiously took his pulse as he explained to Christopher a sanitized version of what had happened.

Buck’s pulse was slow, slower than he’d expected, and Eddie swore inwardly, worried that he’d progressed beyond light hypothermia into moderate, which was much more problematic. Eddie looked around to see if the woman had reached the medics yet, and was pleased to see the two paramedics already leading a stretcher down the hill, the woman standing at the top and watching their progress. She saw Eddie looking and waved, and he waved back, beyond grateful for her help.

The medics got to them quickly and Eddie briefed them on what had happened. Buck seemed to have stopped making any effort to sit up or move by that point, so Eddie helped the medics lift him onto the stretcher. Once he was settled they strapped him in and Eddie gave his cold cheek another stroke before they started to push the stretcher up the hill. Eddie nearly went with them without a second thought, remembering at the last moment that he still had to get Christopher back up the hill too.

Eddie said some words of reassurance to his son, who was upset at seeing Buck being wheeled away on a stretcher, though he wasn’t even sure what he had said as he started to pull Christopher’s sled, following the medics up the hill. He, too, was upset at seeing Buck being wheeled away, the nightmare of the fire truck explosion and Buck’s crushed leg flickering in his mind as he walked, and it was hard for him to think of anything else.

When they got to the top of the hill, Eddie saw the medics were checking Buck’s vitals and so hurried over to their SUV.

“Are you okay to wait here, mijo?” Eddie asked, lifting Christopher up and placing him gently into the backseat. “I want to go and make sure Buck’s okay.”

“Yes Dad,” Christopher said softly. “Tell him I love him.”

“I will.” Eddie kissed Christopher’s forehead, made sure the engine was running and the heat was on so he wouldn’t get cold, then closed the door and headed back over to the ambulance.

Buck seemed slightly more coherent, his eyes heavy-lidded but open and trying to speak to the medics, though his words were still slurred and his voice very quiet. He was visibly relieved when Eddie came into his line of vision and let out a small sigh, looking plaintively up at Eddie.

“I thought you left,” Buck whispered, weakly reaching for Eddie’s hand. Eddie, feeling his heart break even more and guilt kick at his insides, pulled Buck’s hand to his face, kissed the back of it gently, then wrapped both of his hands around it.

“Of course not,” Eddie told him firmly. “Never. I just had to get Christopher into the car. He says he loves you, by the way.”

“Love him too,” Buck mumbled, his eyes drifting closed for a moment before he forced them open again. “He okay?”

Eddie shook his head, exhaling in both exasperation and a soft, disbelieving laugh. Even in this state; so cold he could barely move or speak, blood still dripping sluggishly from his nose, icy hair plastered to his head, all Buck could think about was other people.

“He’s fine, Buck. He’s just worried about you. I am too.”

The medics spoke up at that point, telling Eddie that Buck was stable but that he should get checked out anyway, and asking if they wanted transport to the hospital.

“What about Molly?” Buck asked, his voice breaking as he attempted to speak. Neither medic heard him properly, so Eddie repeated his question for him.

“We advised the mother to take her to hospital.”

Buck and Eddie both looked over at the car next to the ambulance. The mother was sitting sideways in the passenger seat with the door open, her daughter sitting in her lap, wrapped in a blanket. The mother was obviously still extremely distraught, still crying, her hands shaking as she clutched her daughter closely.

“Take her instead,” Buck said immediately, his voice a little louder this time, a little more firm. Seeing the mother so scared and upset seemed to give him some strength, and Eddie squeezed his hand.

“Buck, you need to go to the hospital,” Eddie told him, though he could already tell by the look in Buck’s eyes that Buck would literally argue this until he passed out from exhaustion if he had to. Sighing, Eddie rubbed his eyes, feeling a distinct pain in his head behind them as the medics reiterated to Buck that he needed to go to the hospital.

“My boyfriend is a medic,” Buck insisted, trying to sit up, clumsily pulling at the strap over his chest. “He can take care of me.”

Eddie sighed again, but knew there was no point arguing. Plus, he had to agree with Buck’s assessment of the mother of the girl.

“Look, he’s right,” Eddie said, gesturing to the car beside them. “She’s in no fit state to drive. Take the girl, I can bring Buck to the hospital myself.”

“I don’t need the hospital,” Buck told him, but since he spoke so quietly it was easy for Eddie to pretend he hadn’t heard. The paramedics looked at each other a bit uneasily.

“Are you sure? He should really get checked out as soon as possible.”

“I’ll bring him straight to the hospital,” Eddie promised, ignoring Buck’s wordless noise of protest. The medics had Buck sign a form declining care, and one of the medics began to unstrap him as the other approached the mother.

Eddie suddenly felt the enormity of all of this slam into him at once as he watched the paramedic undoing Buck’s leg straps and felt unbearably exhausted, actually having to shift his weight to stop himself falling over. Seeing Buck on this stretcher like this, blood on his face, his hair plastered to his head, paler than Eddie had ever seen before; it was suddenly more than Eddie could handle. Goosebumps erupted on his bare arms as a cold breeze ruffled his hair and made the water on his shirt feel even colder, but Eddie refused to let his feelings get the better of him and took a few deep breaths, looking away from Buck for a moment and shoving away his weakness into a dark corner of his mind. Buck needed him to be strong, capable Eddie right now and that’s what he was going to get.

Eddie helped Buck sit up and then carefully held him tight as he stood, his legs still as weak and wobbly as before, but at least they didn’t have the daunting hill stretching before them this time. It was easy enough for Eddie to lead Buck to the SUV, and once he was settled in the front seat, Eddie quickly dug through their suitcase in the back until he found a dry sweater for Buck, tossing the wet one in a corner of the trunk. He helped Buck take off his jacket and get the sweater on, as it would warm him better than the jacket, pulling the coat back on himself before hurrying over to the driver’s seat.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Buck said almost immediately as Eddie got into the vehicle and closed his door, tossing the key hub into the dash tray. Eddie reached over past Buck and pulled his seatbelt down, buckling him in, ignoring the look Buck was giving him.

“You’re going to the hospital,” Eddie said, pulling out of the parking space and driving off.

“Eddie, I’m fine,” Buck said in a pleading tone, his voice cracking. “Please… I really don’t want to go.”

Buck tone was one of desperation and Eddie glanced over at him for a moment as he waited to turn onto the highway. Buck looked very upset, and Eddie could only imagine what he was going through as all the memories of hospital visits in the past rushed through his head. Eddie didn’t blame him for not wanting to add another one, especially in another country. Especially when they were on vacation. But still, Eddie was worried about him.

“Buck, you were in that water for a long time,” Eddie said, unable to banish the uncertainty from his voice, shaking his head as he pulled out onto the highway and began to accelerate back towards the townsite.

“And you’ll take care of me. Right?” Eddie glanced sideways to see Buck give him a ghost of a smile and sighed as he felt his will crumbling, rolling his eyes at his own weakness. He was quiet for a while, going over Buck’s symptoms in his mind, well aware that Buck was still looking at him.

“Fine,” Eddie relented, and sensed rather than saw Buck sag with relief. “But with a caveat,” Eddie continued immediately. “If you feel worse or get any new symptoms you have to tell me, and it will be up to my discretion whether we get you checked out or not. Got it?”

“Okay,” Buck agreed in a small, breathy voice, leaning back against the seat, clearly exhausted. Now that they were on the highway at a stable speed, Eddie let go of the steering wheel with one hand and reached for Buck’s, wrapping his warm fingers around Buck’s frigid ones. Buck made a soft noise that Eddie wasn’t entirely sure was happy or sleepy, but either way, Eddie held Buck’s hand until they had to turn off the highway about twenty minutes later. Their hotel was thankfully very close to the turnoff, and Eddie parked, darted in to check in, and then came back out.

Eddie realized Buck had fallen asleep in the front seat and Eddie hopped back into the driver’s seat, reaching across to take Buck’s wrist. Eddie settled two fingers over his pulse point and counted, satisfied that the rate was higher than it had been before, which hopefully meant he was stabilizing. After watching Buck sleep for a moment with a small smile on his face, Eddie decided to take Christopher up to the room first, not having the heart to disturb the poor guy just yet.

Fifteen minutes later, Eddie had brought Christopher and all the luggage up to the room and came back for Buck, who was still sleeping peacefully in the warm SUV. Eddie opened Buck’s door and slipped a hand up to Buck’s neck, gently stroking there before moving upwards and stroking his cheek gently instead, trying not to startle him. He noticed that Buck had started shivering again and was glad; it meant he was slowly getting warmer.

“Buck, come on,” Eddie said in a gentle, quiet voice as Buck stirred, slowly opening his eyes and blinking sluggishly at Eddie. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

Buck was very sleepy and still weak, so Eddie took his sweet time helping Buck out of the car and into the building, into the elevator and down the hall a short ways to their room, attracting a curious glance or two from the couple of people they passed.

Without telling Buck, Eddie had upgraded their basic room to a King Deluxe suite, so there was a separate master bedroom with a king sized bed and a wonderful ensuite bathroom, with a double bed in the living room for Christopher. Buck looked around in faint surprise as Eddie led him into the room, smiling weakly as Christopher cheered their arrival and waved. Christopher immediately got up and padded over to them, wrapping his arms around Buck’s middle as Buck steadied himself on the wall so he didn’t fall over onto him.

“Glad you’re okay, Buck,” Christopher said into Buck’s sweater, and Buck smiled, weakly rubbing his back, his hands trembling.

“Thanks b-buddy. I’m g-glad too.”

Eddie got Christopher settled in front of the TV again with a snack and led an exhausted, shuddering Buck into their bedroom, closing the door behind them.

“We need to warm you gradually,” Eddie said, as he noticed Buck looking longingly over at the large jacuzzi tub. “No hot bath until you’re at a stable temperature for a while.”

Buck sank sadly down onto the bed, hoping he would at least be allowed to sleep if he wasn’t allowed to have a bath or go in the hot tub. His shivers were unending and Buck stared down at his shaking hands, his eyes slowly closing even as he sat there.

Eddie came over with a warm, wet cloth and took Buck’s face in one hand, gently dabbing at the drying blood on Buck’s skin with the cloth until it was clean, his touch as light as possible to avoid hurting him. Buck let out a soft noise of distress and pressed his cheek into Eddie’s hand.

“Come on, let’s get those wet clothes off of you,” Eddie said placatingly, giving Buck’s cheek a stroke before tossing aside the cloth and helping Buck take off his soaked boots, socks, pants and boxers. As much as Eddie wanted to comfort Buck, getting him warm was more important.

Eddie helped Buck into a pair of warm, dry underwear, and then pulled back the blanket on the bed. Confused, Buck was too weak to protest as Eddie gently pulled Buck’s shirt off, Buck immediately crossing his arms over his pecs in an attempt to feel warmer.

“What are you-” Buck started, watching with growing confusion as Eddie peeled his own t-shirt off, leaving him bare chested.

“Body heat is the best way to gradually warm someone,” Eddie explained, flashing a brilliant smile at Buck that would have made him weak in the knees had he not already been weak in the knees. “Come on. We have an hour until Christopher’s movie is over.”

Buck smiled faintly as Eddie helped him lie down, his body feeling extremely heavy the moment he was horizontal. He was absolutely exhausted, and his eyes were already closed by the time Eddie joined him in bed and pulled the blanket over them.

Eddie let out a loud, involuntary gasp as he pulled Buck close, Buck’s chilled skin pressing against Eddie’s warm chest, the chill shocking him more than he’d expected. Buck let out a very small laugh at the sound of his gasp, and Eddie felt Buck relax in his arms as he snuggled up against Eddie’s front.

Within a few minutes, Buck began to shiver harder. Buck whimpered and Eddie held him even closer as he shook, his whole body twitching. Eddie had been expecting this, but clearly Buck hadn’t, if the way he curled up tightly against Eddie’s chest was any indication.

“W-why n-now?” Buck asked, shivering so violently he could barely speak, his teeth chattering and his hands trembling as he reached up to push his hair off of his forehead.

“Because before you were too hypothermic to even shiver,” Eddie explained, leaning forward and kissing Buck on the forehead, reaching up to stroke his hair. “I know it feels shitty, but I promise it’s a good thing. It means you’re warming up.”

Buck let out a small groan and ducked his head, resting it on Eddie’s arm, letting out a long, shaky breath. Eddie pulled Buck to his chest and held him close as he trembled, as he let out small gasps and moans as the shivers wracked his body. Eddie’s heart felt like it physically hurt as he listened to Buck’s ragged breathing, his weak gasps and whimpers as the convulsions continued. Eddie wished nothing more than to be able to take away the horrible feeling from him, to be able to protect Buck from everything in the world.

“You’re a hero, you know that?” Eddie murmured after a while into Buck’s damp hair, kissing the top of his head. “You saved that little girl.”

“You w-would’ve d-done the s-same,” Buck replied shakily in a muffled voice, his head still tucked down against the crook of Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie shrugged.

“Yeah, but I didn’t. You did.”

“O-only because you w-weren’t th-there f-first,” Buck protested, and Eddie laughed softly, kissing Buck’s forehead again.

“Just take the compliment, Buck,” Eddie said in quiet exasperation, shaking his head. “You’re a damn hero.”

Buck didn’t say anything else, but Eddie felt him smile against his bicep. Eddie kept up a slow, gentle stroking of Buck’s back to comfort him and within a few moments, Eddie felt Buck’s weight press more heavily into him. He continued to shiver, but not as intensely, and Eddie could tell that he’d fallen asleep. Knowing that he’d likely be out for a while, Eddie gently extricated himself, gave Buck a quick kiss and covered him with the blanket, tucking it all around him so he was nice and snug.

Eddie pulled a long-sleeved shirt on and headed out into the living room so Christopher didn’t feel abandoned, watching the rest of the movie with him and playing a round of Kids’ Trivial Pursuit with him. A couple of hours later, Christopher was cheering his victory against Eddie when Eddie heard Buck’s soft voice calling. Eddie laughed, ruffling Christopher’s hair, and hurried off to check on Buck while Christopher reset the game.

“How are you doing, Buck?” Eddie asked, coming into the room to see Buck propped up on the pillows, looking somewhat more alert than he had.

“S-still c-cold,” Buck shivered, pulling the blanket up to his bare shoulders. “B-but I’m h-hungry and don’t want to l-lie here anymore.”

Eddie smiled and came over to Buck’s side of the bed, sitting down and taking Buck’s hand, sliding his fingers over Buck’s pulse once more. Buck looked at him with a bit of a sad, vulnerable expression on his face, which melted Eddie’s heart and made it hard to concentrate. He was pleased to feel that Buck’s heart rate had increased again and felt stronger than it did before.

“Come on. Let’s get you some food,” Eddie said once he was done, shifting to take Buck’s hand and pull him into a standing position, realizing belatedly that he was still mostly naked.

“I sh-should probably p-put some c-clothes on,” Buck said, crossing his arms over his chest again to try and keep warm as the cool air of the room wafted over his skin. “D-don’t want to scar C-christopher.”

“Right,” laughed Eddie, rifling through their suitcases and finding Buck some sweatpants, a t-shirt and a hoodie and helping him get dressed. Once he was dressed and standing unsteadily by the bed, Eddie took his hand to lead him out into the other room.

“Wait,” Buck said, as Eddie started to pull him forward. Eddie stopped, turning back to him curiously. “I… I didn’t get to say anything b-back there, but I h-heard what you said.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked, though he thought he knew. Back when he was trying to pull Buck in, when he was trying to encourage him, he’d been shouting all kinds of things, not even really aware of what he’d been saying, though he suspected he knew what he’d said.

“You… you said you love me.” Buck said quietly, biting his lower lip a little, suddenly bashful. “Did… did you mean that? O-or was it just because you were afraid I w-was dying?”

Eddie looked down at him for a moment, thoughtful, then reached up with both of his hands and took Buck’s face gently in them. Eddie leaned in as Buck’s eyes fluttered closed and pressed his lips to Buck’s, stroking Buck’s cheeks with his thumbs as he kissed him. Eddie felt Buck melt into his embrace and smiled into the kiss, slowly pulling away many moments later and looking down as Buck’s eyes opened to meet his.

“I love you,” Eddie said simply with a light shrug, smiling and taking Buck’s hand once more. Buck seemed momentarily stunned, but then his face lit up, his grin nearly as bright as it usually was despite his continued shivering.

“I love you too.”

* * *

A few days later, Buck was enthusiastically ready to leave the hotel once again. He had slept a lot over the last few days, and he hadn’t stopped shivering until well into the night the day of the incident. Eddie had extended their stay by a few days so Buck could rest, and he’d been alternating between sleeping in the king-sized bed with Eddie or napping on the couch, often with Christopher snuggled up beside him, watching (or sleeping through) a movie. They played board games several times, as Buck could sit, wrapped in a blanket, and be perfectly comfortable. Eddie had taken a quick trip to a nearby grocery store for snacks and had been ordering meals so that Buck didn’t overtax himself going out, which was nice the first two days but was starting to irk him by the third, as he was starting to feel a little suffocated.

The only major downside to his recovery had been discovering how sensitive his skin was after being so cold for so long, especially his fingers. When Eddie had finally cleared him to have a nice warm bath, Buck had yelped as he sank into the water and submerged his hands; they felt like they were burning, the same sensation as having a hot shower with a sunburn. This meant the hot tub was out of the question and Buck had sulked about that for a while, wanting nothing more than to submerge himself in hot, bubbly water.

Thankfully, the sensitivity had subsided over the last few days and now they were, finally, heading out for a day’s sightseeing. Their first trip was to a nearby hot springs, on Buck’s insistence that he was better. It was snowing and the effect was magical as they watched the snow melt as it hit the steamy barrier floating up from the springs pool. Christopher was mesmerized and Buck was mostly just pleased that he was able to soak without (much) pain, finally feeling like his old self again.

The only obvious sign that anything had happened was the purple bruises under either of his eyes from when the girl had kicked him in the nose. Eddie had insisted that they weren’t as obvious as they felt, but Buck still felt self conscious about them, trying to avoid looking people in the eyes when he met them. It also made kissing Eddie a little more difficult; Eddie’s nose had accidentally bumped his despite Eddie being as careful as possible just that morning and the sudden pain had taken Buck’s breath away.

Buck and Eddie followed behind Christopher as he led them up and down the town’s main street, going in and out of gift shops, buying souvenirs and fudge, getting an ice cream from a famous ice cream shop, even though it was cold outside. Eddie pulled Buck into an outdoor supplies shop and bought him a comfortable new jacket and a teal knitted toque like the one he’d lost, getting both Christopher and himself the same hat to match, upon Christopher’s excited request.

They stopped to have lunch at a cute little pub with great Irish food and were just stepping away from the door when something collided with Buck’s leg. Buck looked down in surprise to see a young girl, who threw her arms around his waist. He looked around, confused, until he saw the girl’s mother approaching with her small son in tow, and realized this must be the girl he’d pulled from the water.

“Hi Molly,” Buck said, smiling, patting her on the back as she clung to him. She said nothing, but her grip on his waist tightened as he said her name.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t get to thank you the other day,” the mother said to him as she came level with them. “Thank you so much. I can’t even begin to repay you for what you did, you nearly died for a little girl you’ve never even met.”

“It’s alright, ma’am,” Buck said, feeling his face flush as he felt rather than saw both Christopher and Eddie watching them.

“We’re firefighters,” Buck said, gesturing to Eddie and himself. “It’s what we do, I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Cool!” The little boy behind his mother poked his head around her side to stare at Buck and Eddie. “I wanna be a firefighter when I grow up!”

Eddie grinned and high fived the little boy, who seemed star struck to meet two real-life firefighters. They spoke with the mother and her kids for several minutes, until Christopher started to shift uncomfortably, feeling cold from standing in one place for too long.

“Well, we won’t take any more of your time,” the woman, Eleanor, said. “Thank you, again. Both of you. If there’s anything I can ever do to help you in any way, please, don’t hesitate to call.”

Eleanor pressed a business card into Buck’s hand so he would have her phone number and peeled Molly from Buck’s side, where she still was, refusing to let go.

“Thank you,” Molly said in a tiny voice, looking up at him, before dashing back towards her mother and hiding behind her, suddenly shy. Buck laughed, then waved as they walked away, Molly looking back him several times and giving him a small wave before they disappeared around the corner.

“Told you,” Eddie said, taking Buck’s hand as they walked slowly in the opposite direction back towards their car. “You’re a hero.”

Buck felt himself blushing again as he tried to wave off Eddie’s words, but as Christopher cheered in agreement and Eddie pulled him over to give him a kiss, Buck had to admit it felt pretty good to know that he’d saved that girl and he was no worse for wear besides the bruises on his face.

“Fine, fine,” Buck said gruffly after Eddie had pulled away from the kiss as Christopher let out an “ewwww!” and they all laughed.

They got back to the car and Buck helped Christopher into the back seat, buckling him up before closing the door. Buck turned around to see a squirrel bounding across the sidewalk right near him and watched, wrapping his arms around his chest as he shivered a bit in the cold air, even though he was in his snug new jacket.

“I thought you were an honourary Canadian?” Eddie teased, coming around the side of the car to see what he was looking at.

“I was, until I spent twelve minutes in a freezing lake,” Buck lamented, and Eddie made a noise somewhere between concern and a laugh. “I will never complain about being too warm in LA ever again.”

Eddie actually laughed then, and clapped Buck on the back. They both jumped into the SUV, Buck behind the steering wheel this time as Christopher excitedly asked where they were headed now. They’d had quite the misadventure here but they were ready to continue on their journey as a family, just the three of them.

* * *

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Tag list: @outside-the-government @littlecarowrites @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @stormsnevercometostay @southernbellestatues @mad-girl-without-a-box @reading-in-moonlight

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kotsuvi · 4 years

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WHAT THE HQ BOYS ARE LIKE DURING THANKSGIVING/FRIENDSGIVING

a/n: okay this is kinda a take on canadian/american thanksgiving—yanno with all the pumpkin pie and the turkeys and the fall colours? i just thought it would be kind of cute.

warnings: swearing, underage drinking for some

KARASUNO

daichi: told-no, COMMANDED asahi and suga to wear fall colours. like seriously wore the brown khakis with the orange sweater and little socks with turkeys on them. it’s at his house, so he insisted that suga and asahi arrive early and sit at the table together, just to make the other guests feel bad about not being dressed up. yells at the guests to stop touching his family’s ornaments and paintings. gets kita to help babysit.

suga: was actually going to dress up anyway, so he took it as the perfect chance to wear his turkey knit sweater. it has tiny little turkeys all over it like it’s so fuckin cute. lowwwwkeyyyy makes daichi blush when he sees him but like we’re not gonna talk about it. brings a delicious fruit salad that’s eaten almost singlehandedly by lev and hinata.

asahi: panics because he doesn’t have a lot of nice things to wear. like FREAKS OUT in front of his closet, close to tears. legit settles on a tan shirt, brown pants and black boots with a slight heel. definitely gets teased by tendou about keeping the beard. “keeping it intact,” he replies. brings cabbage rolls. also brings brownies, and has to fight the urge to eat them all on the way over.

nishinoya: arrives slightly late, but worth the wait. busts through the door screaming about how hungry he is. doesn’t take of his shoes in the house so he trails mud EVERYWHERE. also sneaks in a couple bottles of cider. he’s been thinking about this feast for days, and he just can’t wait. talks with his mouth full of food. probably spits mashed potatos on akaashi at some point. gets drunk off of his secret cider and asks iwa if he likes being second best to oikawa.

tanaka: arrives shortly after noya, despite saeko speeding to get there. you can literally hear him talking from ten houses away. argues with bokuto over stupid things; ends up nearly starting a food fight. eats with his fingers, literally no utensils, and doesn’t use a napkin. secretly grossing everyone out. thinks that he can win a turkey eating contest, but daichi shuts him down before he can get started. is DEDICATED to the kareoke. even sings a song for kiyoko.

hinata: so incredibly excited to eat. this kid could not SLEEP he was so excited. gets cursed with sitting next to ushiwaka and tendou, who bully him about his hair being thanksgiving colours year-round. budges everyone in line for the food. of course daichi then makes him go last. yells at kageyama for getting the best part of the turkey: the skin. atsumu tells him that ginger beer is a new type of “delicious juice” and he drinks it all, nearly throwing up afterwards. lowkey got flustered when tanaka was singing britney spears.

kageyama: tells everyone that he doesn’t want to go, but is actually extremely excited as well. for some reason he snoops through daichi’s house while everyone is eating? he just wants to take a look around, and then suddenly he’s in daichi’s parents’ bathroom, inspecting shampoo labels. literally doesn’t eat sitting still either. he just stands behind his chair? oikawa starts a rumour that he can’t sit because he has hemorrhoids, and kags responds by throwing his drink in oiks’ face. that really starts a riot. really he just wants to be standing so he can run to the kitchen and get more food in an emergency.

tsukishima: brings his headphones just in case he’s stuck next to bokuto or someone really loud and obnoxious. of course he is. bokuto AND tanaka. everyone tries to coax him into kareoke after the meal, and he declines, but really wants to prove to kuroo that he is the most angelic singer there. “accidentally” tips his drink into bokuto’s lap, but the guy is so busy yelling at tanaka that he doesn’t even notice, so tsukki tips another. goes on his phone at the table. tells tadashi to get all his meals for him because he doesn’t want to stand in line.

tadashi: goes through one (1) mental breakdown when he’s seated beside aone instead of tsukki. pours WAAAAAAY too much gravy on his meal because he’s just so nervous. like literally SWAMPS his turkey and vegetables. his mom forced him to bring a green bean casserole. he doesn’t even like casserole. sits across from oikawa and this mans won’t stop asking for photos of him and iwa, so tadashi is tasked with that for the night. offers to help daichi with the dishes afterwards. gets awarded with an extra slice of pumpkin pie.

saeko: handed her cider to noya beforehand because she just knew that daichi would check her at the door. she gets drunk halfway through anyway. challenges iwa to an arm wrestling competition. winner gets the losers pumpkin pie with EXTRA whipped cream. the sexual tension skyrockets. she wins but accidentally shoves iwa’s fist into akaashi’s cranberry sauce. gets scolded by daichi MULTIPLE times. too drunk to care.

kiyoko: also came over early. made butternut squash that is to die for. helps set up even though she knows that it’s just going to become a mess. keeps track of the points for kareoke. may or may not have given tanaka extra points for singing “i’m a slave 4 u” by britney spears.

yachi: of COURSE this girl has to sit between aone and ushiwaka. of course it works like that. and chicky is terrified. spills her drink on the nice tablecloth and pleads for kiyoko and daichi to spare her life. thinks that the kareoke is too loud. nearly craps her pants when bokuto jumps up on the table. brings glazed donuts for dessert.

coach ukai: daichi invited him just to be polite but then he??? ended up??? coming??? literally shocked everyone into the sixth dimension. says he isnt going to stay for long, but mans is there the WHOLE night. busts out with some MR. WORLDWIDE;)))!!

AOBAJOHSAI

oikawa: his one mission was to be best dressed, and judging by the appalled look on daichi’s face when he first entered, he succeeded. this mans wont shut up either, and even tho everyone yells at him, they’re actually invested in his stories. he tells a whole bunch from middle school and his earliest volleyball memories, and everyone??? likes it??? they’re intrigued the whole time. goshiki and lev listen extra hard. mans wants pictures as well. he needs to show his fans that he does actually have friends. of course he gets the photos before kags dumps the drink on his head, and then he goes feral. teases iwa about the second best comment, but apologizes to him after, assuring that iwa is an amazing ace.

iwa: only went there for oiks. the mans had plans with his family, but he knew that it meant a lot to oikawa, so he showed up. literally goes into a FIT of rage when he loses the armwrestling match, then further infuriated with noya’s comment. chases the kid around the table. nearly knocks out his teeth by tripping into a cabinet. leaves early after throwing a temper tantrum, then receives a formal apology from both oikawa and daichi later on.

matsukawa: i just know this mans smokes at family functions, so what’s stopping him from getting high at friendsgiving? of course he only smokes a lil, just enough to get a good buzz, because he wants to still be respectful. offers to refill drinks when he gets his own. helps pack up the leftovers. tries desperately to catch iwa as he chases noya around, but doesn’t succeed. he can’t really feel his fingers or his face, so he doesn’t smile or laugh like... the whole night.

hanamaki: maybe sneaks out to join mattsun. maybe. no, definitely. and he’s not used to it, so you BET this man is trippin. he tries his best to hide it, but of course suga can tell. he confuses cranberry sauce with champagne, so he literally drinks the damn sauce from a wine glass the whole night. oikawa certainly has pictures for the next morning to prove it too.

kyoutani: doesnt get invited to a ton of things, but he decided to go to this. brings a pumpkin, which is nice, but daichi is like wtf am i meant to do with this??? but it’s a nice gesture. tries to engage in the conversation between the twins, but only gets frustrated when he can’t hear. threatens to flip the table once. cant find the bathroom and ends up taking a piss in the yard.

NEKOMA

kuroo: the one with the kareoke machine. absolutely did not tell daichi he was bringing it, but then pulls it inside. “get a load of this bad boy!!!” “kuroo what the hell is this???” i just know that everyone wants to sit beside this man at the table. he’s cracking jokes and people are straining to hear. it’s a match between him and oiks: who’s telling the better story? also won’t leave. like it’s 2am and he’s still there, swaying alongside bokuto and coach, singing early 2000’s nelly furtado.

kenma: KUROO AND HINATA CONVINCED HIM TO DYE THE TIPS OF HIS HAIR ORANGE. he HATES it. buttttt he’s keeping it even though people tell him he’s a hinata wannabe. “but why would i want to be like shoyo?” “hey kenma that’s not very nice!!” definitely plays games at the table. doesn’t even try to hide it. gets gravy on his switch and uses lev’s shirt as a napkin.

lev: this man has enough food on his plate to feed a small village. like deadass, he doesn’t slow his eating for a BREATH. he didn’t eat the whole day just so he could be extra hungry. like 3/4 of the spread is on his plate. also like cant fit his legs under the table, so he has to eat with his chair super far away. of course this man is going to be dropping food on the floor. literally has a hole in his chin because the gravy keeps dripping out whenever he speaks.

yaku: brings champagne because it’s “an exciting night”. lowkey freaks people out with how quickly he can down a bottle. has a small amount of chicken and turkey, LARGE amount of potatos, but then as many slices of pie as he can. like legit the pieces stack up on his plate. he scolds lev for making a mess, but literally litters crumbs all over the table.

FUKURODANI

bokuto: thinks that lev and him are participating in an eating contest, even tho lev has no idea what’s going on. of course this man brought his own liquor. he knows it’s time to party. legit as soon as he’s finished eating he’s busting open the bottle. towards the end of the night he’s actually dancing on the table, narrowly missing the forks and knives. daichi, suga and kita try their very best to control him, but he’s in his element. legit was throwing it back to kuroo singing “uptown girl”.

akaashi: also brought champagne but drinks it in a fancy glass. legit with the pinky up like royalty. comes in the cutest little fall knit sweater. does NOT participate in kareoke but hums along to the songs he knows. quietly makes bets with kenma on who is going to win, and he gets a couple of victories off of goshiki. also offers to do the dishes, but unlike tadashi, he doesn’t get another slice of pie because yaku ate it all. also brings daichi a card signed by him and bokuto. he’s very thankful. (sweet bb)

SHIRITORIZAWA

ushiwaka: there is no way this man isn’t excited. tbh he didn’t even think he’d get invited, and he actually ALMOST smiled when daichi offered. mans shows up in a turtleneck. TURTLENECK. legit wearing a rolex. why does he have drip? he’s got drip. for a big dude he doesn’t eat very much. threatens atsumu with his life if he ever DARES to shake salt in his champagne again. cracks a plate from gripping it too hard while waiting in line for the dessert. he’s excited, okay?

tendou: wears something weird. like a headbands with a candelabra on it or a giant turkey broach. brings a whole jug of orange juice for himself, and you bet that he finishes it within the first fifteen minutes. honestly, he probably dips his cabbage roll into the drink. also starts a conga line around the table while goshiki is singing. semi dares him to taste some of daichi’s dish soap, and of course he does it.

goshiki: NEVER HAS ANYONE EVER SEEN THIS MAN SO EXCITED. practically bouncing off the walls. eats way too fast. slips in the kitchen trying to get to the sink because he started choking on a green bean. becomes mesmerized by saeko and insists that he’s going to become the world’s best kareoke singer. picks every song about love. okay sam smith. tries to get suna to participate but receives a look that could kill. gets scared after that, but it motivates him to sing even better.

semi: practically skips the meal and goes straight for dessert. gets a harsh scolding from daichi but he doesn’t care. “accidentally” brings up the fact that ushiwaka cuts his food weirdly because he’s left handed. the whole table goes silent. semi passes away.

INARIZAKI

atsumu: literally just went to cause trouble. was he even invited? nobody knows. osamu was, but him? well. gets drunk within the first hour. tricks hinata into trying a bunch of kita’s disgusting ginger beers. constantly kicks samu under the table. throws a shoe across the room when daichi doesn’t let him have another drink. he’s loud. VERY loud. swears far too much and violently compliments daichi on the food. “this food is so fuckin good like hella delicious, i fuckin love thanksgiving! this is the shit!!”, “atsumu your brother made all the food”, “what”

osamu: just there for the food. literally made 3/4 of the dishes, including the turkey. makes fun of daichi for being the host and literally not making any of the food. “that’s embarrassing”, but really he offered to do it waaaaay before. constantly tells atsumu he has food in his teeth. over-salts suna’s turkey just because he feels like it. he’s the dude that encourages makki to drink the cranberry sauce. offers to help vacuum the floor clean of noya’s mess, but daichi is SO done with atsumu that samu just leaves early, dragging his brother with him.

suna: catches tendou drinking the dish soap. he’s not surprised. doesn’t say anything, just nods and walks away. legit doesn’t say anything to anyone tho. like mans shows up, eats and dips. has a one two conversation with ukai about court shoes, and then he’s gone. texts daichi later and thanks him, which is extremely shocking but daichi thinks it’s really nice.

kita: hates gatherings. i know this man just despises the loud and rowdy behaviour. puts mad dog in a headlock when the dude tries to fight kageyama over the turkey skin. eats and leaves zero mess. dabs at the corners of his mouth with napkin. washes his hands before and after everything. i just KNOW he’s polite too, but really gives it to semi when he mentions ushiwaka’s left handed eating. other:

OTHERS

aone: dresses cute. gets complimented by hinata and cant stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. like lev, he eats enough to feed a small town but makes sure everyone else goes before him at dessert time. tells yachi that he loves the donuts.

terushima: definitely wasn’t invited but heard through the grapevine. shows up with one plate of cookies and a violent growling stomach. immediately takes to the kareoke, even before dinner is over. randomly bursts into song halfway through his second plate of green bean casserole. thinks that singing louder = singing better.

sakusa: clearly doesn’t want to be there. brings his own food and his own drink, but doesn’t hesitate to down a bottle of noya’s cider. complains about how close hinata is sitting is sitting to him, and then pulls out a ruler for emphasis. “whoa! where did that come from??” “get away from me.”

#this was fun #i always love writing/reading these for tendou #haikyuu #haikyuu hc #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu!!#hq #hq hc #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fanfiction #headcanon #haikyuu headcanon #haikyuu headcanons #vee's mediocre writing

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ninja-muse · 4 years

Photo

#Bookoween is back!

Given that a certain pandemic is making it really difficult to do traditional Halloween things like parties or trick-or-treating or, well, anything else, I thought this might be a good time to bring back my Halloween-themed booklr challenge from a couple years back. Think of it like trick-or-treating but with 100% more digital content!

I’m switching up a few things about it though, to keep things fresh for anyone who participated the last time. Re-vamp-ing the challenge, if you will. 🧛‍♀️

Essentially, this is going to run like every other monthly challenge—I post prompts, you post content—but I’m going to be scoring you, and then you’re going to “win” stuff based on what score you get. This year, I’m also adding a reading challenge because why not.

I’d like to think that the last Bookoween participants had a lot of fun. (I know I did.) Hopefully this will be at least as fun, if not better!

Rules and the Points System

1. Post something bookish for every prompt that inspires you (between October 1 and 31). This can be a photo, rant, book review, gifset, fancast, video, dramatic reading, etc. Get creative, have fun, and maybe challenge yourself a little. Every five posts, you’ll level up one Spook Factor.

1-4: bat 

5-9: ghost 

10-14: fairy 

15-19: ghoul 

20-24: vampire

 25-30: swamp monster 

31-34: demon

35+: sorcerer

2. You can earn more points by filling the extra challenges below! All points will be counted and then given back to you as candy—so yes, you will be Trick-or-Treating after all! Some challenges are general (like how many books you end up reading), some relate to types of posts, and some are odder. Bolded items can be counted multiple times, so one pet photo is good but three pets are better. Any post with the #bookoween hashtag will be checked against these challenges whether you try for them or not, and you do not have to work them into the prompt posts. Extra posts are allowed and even encouraged!

3. On the evening of October 31, spilling into November 1 as needed, everyone who’s posted for the challenge will receive an ask stating their Spook Factor and the results of their Trick-or-Treating. For every Trick you do, you’ll get either amusingly tragic backstory or trash-tier Halloween loot like toothbrushes. For every Treat, you get an unspecified amount of candy. Example: You are a swamp monster whose only friends were a troupe of singing frogs that made it big on the Muppet Show and never came home. You have one Mars bar, a bag of cotton candy, three bags of M&Ms, five Easter eggs, and two Bounty bars. 4. Post everything using the #bookoween hashtag or it’s not getting counted!

Click through to find the extra challenges … IF YOU DARE!

Reading Challenge

Horror - 2 point

Mystery or thriller - 1 point

Other spooky book - 1 point

Diverse author or subject - 3 points

Classics - 2 points

Short stories or novellas - 1 point

Other genres - half a point

Book over 500 pages - 3 points

Book with orange, yellow, or black cover - 1 point

Was on your posted TBR for the month - 2 points

Books will get counted for each prompt they fill. A classic mystery novel is worth 3 points. A diverse horror novel is 5 points. A door-stopper fantasy novel is 3.5 points. And so on.

Trick

Reuse a prop or backdrop.

Make a post without a single book in it.

Post a selfie.

Add 3 or more books to my TBR

Bake/cook something bookish but don’t share the recipe.

Get no notes on any Bookoween post (self-reblogs don’t count).

Make less than 5 posts referencing fall or Halloween.

Start a tag meme.

Feature Halloween candy before October 15.

Make a pun.

Post a book that’s been dog-eared.

Only post books from the same genre (romance, sci-fi, YA, etc.)

Acknowledge any of: World Pasta Day (Oct. 25), National Vodka Day (Oct 4), International Day of the Nacho (Oct. 21), CAPS LOCK DAY (Oct. 22), Federation Day (Oct. 12), World Space Week (Oct. 4-10), National Fossil Day (Oct. 14), International Wombat Day (Oct. 22) or Canadian Thanksgiving (Oct. 12).

Treat

Make more than one type of post (photos and text, text and audio, photos and moodboards, videos and tag memes).

Read more than 10 books

Bake/cook something bookish.

Post original Halloween or fall-themed writing.

Post a review or a reaction post.

Start an ask meme.

Post a rec list.

Make some bookish art.

Remove at least 3 books from your physical TBR.

Post a picture with a pet in it (live, toy, painting, etc.)

Rec another booklr.

Acknowledge any of: Global Handwashing Day (Oct. 15), World Mental Health Day (Oct. 10), National Disability Employment Awareness Month, International Pronouns Day (Oct. 31), UK Black History Month, Domestic Violence Awareness Month, LGBT History Month, Indigenous Peoples’ Day (Oct. 12), or Dia de los muertos.

FAQs

Do I have to post on the day the prompt is for? Absolutely not! Have everything up by Halloween and you’re golden. 

Do I have to fill the Trick and Treat prompts? What happens if I avoid them? You don’t have to do them! You can absolutely craft your #bookoween without them! But then you won’t get candy and where’s the fun in that? The Tricks sound more fun than the Treats! Why are you trying to discourage me from doing them? Who said I was? You get a longer ask! And character depth! What if I Trick-or-Treat without the #bookoween hashtag? Then I will not see it and it will not be counted towards the ask. What if I manage to do all the prompts, all the Tricks, and all the Treats? Then you are amazing and should maybe spend less time online though we’re lucky to have you. Do you get something special? Undecided. Maybe.

#booklr #bookblr #photo challenges #reading challenges #book challenges #reviving booklr #bookish #bookworm #reading #bookoween #Halloween

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hslllot · 3 years

Text

Part I. Draft Day

fic masterlist | rated: m, mature | word count: 4.6k content/warning: hockey harry, nosey family members, a very brief mention of anxiety, overzealous hockey stans.

DRAFT REPORT: The 411 on Harry Styles by John Michaelson for Sportsnet

There’s this kid named Harry Styles. He plays hockey. Ever heard of him?

At this point there’s not much else to be said about the british Fighting Hawks’ centre, a lock to be the No.1 pick in the 2015 NHL Draft.

Dubbed a generational talent, Styles’ abilities are at a level typically only seen in video games. We all know the Edmonton Oilers will select him with the first overall pick on June 26. In years to come, hockey fans from around the globe (but especially Oilers fans) will be on the edge of their seats, watching to see if the phenom can develop into a future Hockey Hall of Fame talent the way Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux did.

Here’s what you need to know about Harry Styles:

Age on June 26: 19 Birthplace: Redditch, Worcestershire, England Current team: University of North Dakota Fighting Hawks Position: Centre Shoots: Left Height: 6-foot Weight: 190 lbs NHL Central Scouting Rank (North American): 1st

Harry Styles is a franchise-changing player in every sense of the word. He looked like a pro player even before he flew across the pond at a young age to play in the Canadian Hockey League. This has been a long time coming but the future is finally here.

He is talented beyond his years and always has been… Styles has played against older competition his entire career. Growing up in the small village of Holmes Chapel in Cheshire, England, the options for minor hockey teams were limited. Styles struggled to find a team in his age group that matched his talent level and was forced to play with older kids - and even then his talent was unmatched. Like the two other players from the UK currently playing in the NHL, Styles eventually had to leave home and play junior hockey in Canada, where he still had to play up a year against Canadian kids that grew up in a country that eats, sleeps, and breathes the game.

He should have been drafted 1st overall last year… Styles shocked the hockey world in 2013 when, instead of declaring for the 2014 NHL Draft, he announced he would be attending the University of North Dakota and lead the Fighting Hawks to an NCAA Championship. Styles, ever the media-trained athlete, dodged questions about why he chose to go to university for a year before joining the NHL, simply stating “University was always a part of the plan, no matter what happened with hockey.” The hockey community let out a collective sigh of relief when his agent, Jeffrey Azoff (whose father was, coincidentally, Wayne Gretzky’s agent), announced shortly after his championship win that after one year at UND, Styles would be declaring for the 2015 Draft.

His trophy case is full... Harry Styles has won pretty much every individual hockey award he could possibly win in his career so far. During his CHL career with the Vancouver Giants he won Rookie of the Year, multiple MVP awards, the award for most goals, assists, and overall points, and scholastic player of the year. During his short-lived NCAA career with UND, he won Rookie of the Year, the Hobey Baker Award as the top men’s hockey player, and was named to the Academic All-American team. Unfortunately, Great Britain’s ice hockey team will not be qualifying for the Olympics or the World Championships any time soon, so unless Styles applies for Canadian citizenship, international trophies and medals will be difficult to come by. Regardless, I have a feeling that there will be many Stanley Cups in his future.

He really hates underperforming… The kid puts a lot of pressure on himself. As we have seen with many successful athletes, an insatiable inner drive to compete can lead to greatness. Styles has that drive to be great and can be his own worst critic. “When I was growing up, my mum was worried about me because I was a bit of a perfectionist.” Styles told The Hockey News back in December. “When I had a bad game, I would get so upset about it. It’s just how I am and how I think every athlete should be. Good is never enough. It’s important to always keep learning and growing to better yourself.”

He is excited to play for the Oilers… Not that he would have anything bad to say about any of the 30 NHL teams, but the Oilers do hold a special place in Styles’ heart. “It’s a great hockey town with fans that are super passionate about the game.” He told The Hockey News. “They’ve been on a bit of a slide the last couple years but the team has a great history. Not many people watch the NHL where I’m from, but my dad was always interested in it and that’s how I got into the game. He was an Oilers fan during their dynasty years with Gretzky and Messier… So if they do end up drafting me first overall, I’ll feel honored to be a part of the team, and it’ll be a nice tribute to my dad.”

Be sure to catch our live 2015 NHL Draft coverage on June 26 starting at 5pm EST/2pm PT only on Sportsnet.

“With the first overall pick in the 2015 NHL Entry Draft the Edmonton Oilers are proud to select, from Holmes Chapel in England, Harry Styles.”

The room erupted in loud cheers and applause as the Edmonton Oilers drafted the National Hockey League’s newest and most sought after commodity.

Y/N’s closest friends and extended family roamed around her parents’ living room, congratulating one another with hugs and handshakes like one of their own family members was just drafted. That wasn’t the case though, they were all just deeply invested in the hockey team and the boy from England that was meant to turn things around after so many years of losing. They were so invested, in fact, that the family organized a gathering similar to something you might see on a holiday, like Thanksgiving or Christmas.

While it was not a normal holiday, for Y/N’s family it was just as significant. It was Draft Day. And every hockey fan in North America wanted Harry Styles to play for their team.

“That’s quite the suit, isn’t it?” Her uncle Will pointed to the television where the young man is dressed in an ornate red floral suit and black dress shirt. The suit was flashier than what most hockey players would wear, but it’s clear that Harry Styles is not like most hockey players. The camera panned to him as he stood up from his seat and hugged the two brunette women sitting next to him. He stuck out like a sore thumb among a sea of other young hockey players all dressed in variations of black and grey as they patiently waited to be drafted from the stands of the BB&T Centre in Florida. It was clear to Y/N that, much like his hockey skills, Harry Styles’ fashion sense was superior compared to his peers.

There was an air of excitement in the room as the draft party, all clad in blue and orange jerseys, watched the generational talent walk down the stairs of the arena and make his way to the stage. They collectively held their breath, the room becoming silent, when he arrived at the stage where both the owner and general manager of the team were waiting to greet him. Harry shook their hands before they handed him his own blue and orange jersey. As he slipped the jersey over his head and posed for a photograph with the executives, the silence in the room broke and excited conversations and speculations for the upcoming season continued. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a stir in her belly and a sense of anticipation for what the upcoming hockey season would bring.

Her thoughts lingered on the man on the screen, wondering what it might be like to meet him, when her brother pulled her out of her reverie. “Can you believe you’ll be working with the Harry Styles?”

No - she couldn’t quite believe it.

In fact, everything happening in her life right now seemed a bit too good to be true.

Set to start her third year of university in September and having to complete mandatory practicum hours in order to graduate the following year, she somehow managed to secure a placement with her favourite hockey team. The Oilers were only taking three students from the university program and everyone in the program wanted one of those spots.

The application process was incredibly stressful for Y/N. One telephone interview, one in-person interview, and a practical session where she had to demonstrate her athletic therapy skills to the team’s head trainer. She did well with the phone interview, given that they weren’t able to see her. She was able to look down at the talking points she wrote in her notebook and pause to take a couple deep breaths without making it obvious that she was reeling on the inside. Her anxiety got the best of her during the in-person interview though, freezing up when they asked simple questions like “why do you want to work for the team?” and “what experience do you have working with sport teams?”

She left the interview feeling embarrassed, but instead of taking the time to wallow and feel sorry for herself, she went home and spent hours upon hours taping her brothers’ ankles in preparation for the practical session the following day. There was no way she was going to let the opportunity fall through the cracks. Her dream of working for the Oilers was the whole reason she decided to go to school for athletic therapy in the first place. She was never any good at playing hockey but she knew in her heart that, someday, she would work for the team she loved so much. At the end of it all, she reckons her taping skills saved her, so she took her brother out to his favourite restaurant to thank him for letting her use his ankles for practice.

Fast forward a few months and she’s now stood in her parents living room thinking about how in three months she could be taping Harry Styles’ ankles.

At the time of her application, no one knew the Oilers would be picking first in the draft. The aura around the team was a bit negative at the time (because of all the losing) and there were rumours circulating the city that some of the star players were rude to the support staff and liked to party a little too hard at The Ranch (which contributed to said losing).

When she first decided to apply for the position her father warned her, “there’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes. What if they’re all a bunch of assholes and you end up hating the team you’ve loved your whole life?”

Y/N ignored her father’s warning but silently hoped that others would feel that way, narrowing down the applicant pool. However, the rumours circulating the team had no effect on the amount of students applying for the job. The fans were loyal in Edmonton (a city not known by many around the world unless you follow hockey or are compelled to visit North America’s largest shopping mall) and although the team was losing, every kid studying athletic therapy wanted a shot with their favourite team. Y/N knew of at least fifteen students that she beat out for the position.

Now, it’s late June and there is a general hype surrounding the team, as if Harry was about to come in and shine a light on the Decade of Darkness (a term Oilers fans use to characterize the recent years in which their favourite team hadn’t made the playoffs). That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person, but Y/N supposed that he’s been dealing with this kind of pressure since he was sixteen, maybe even younger.

Everyone at her family’s draft party was, yet again, watching the television intently while Harry gave his first interview as an official member of the Edmonton Oilers hockey team. While Y/N normally loved watching these types of interviews, she was a bit zoned out- mesmerized by the look of him. The suit, the wavy chestnut hair, the dimple in his left cheek, the accent. The accent. She had never really been that attracted to hockey players, which many people found hard to believe given that she’s such a fan of the sport. All of the guys from her high school who played minor hockey were rotten and thought they were better than everyone else. She did have favourite players in the NHL, players that she loved and admired, but they were her favourites because she loves how they play the game, not because she wants to fuck them.

There was something different about Harry Styles though. Not necessarily that she wanted to fuck him (especially since she recently signed an employment contract that would forbid it), but she was certainly feeling intrigued by him. He doesn’t look like the boys she went to high school with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s British, or that he opted for a suit that set him apart from the rest of them, or maybe it was the duality of the way he held himself with unshakeable confidence in his floral suit, his gaze set intensely on the person interviewing him, posture strong and dominant, while simultaneously speaking so softly, his words laced with kindness and gratitude.

“When do you start working with the team, Y/N?” Her uncle Will asked from across the room, prompting everyone to look in her direction waiting for her response.

The news that Y/N would be working for the Oilers this season shook the family. As soon as her dad shared the news with his brother, she started receiving messages expressing congratulations from her many aunts, uncles, and cousins, shortly followed by messages asking if she would be getting free tickets to games.

“Um, mid-September, for training camp.”

“You get to meet Harry Styles?” her 9 year old cousin, Billy, asked.

“I do. I will be one of the team’s trainers.” The young boy held a look of wonder on his face, as if realizing for the first time that that his oldest cousin was actually kind of cool.

“Do you think he’s single?” Her aunt Maria asked with a smirk on her face, turning to the television to look at Harry Styles. Aunt Maria doesn’t care much for hockey but she never failed to mention which players she believed to be handsome. She was also the nosey type of aunt that liked to inquire about Y/N’s dating life. “Maybe you two will hit it off.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at her aunt, waving off her comment. But before she could retort, her father chimed in. “Ha! Yea, right! That’s not going to happen. She’s not allowed to date anyone on the team, it’s the rules. Plus, Y/N knows better than to get involved with any of these guys.”

Her father was right. It is the rules. Y/N thought back to when she went into the Oilers headquarters back in April to sign her employment contract. She asked a lot of questions, making sure she understood everything about the document she was signing.

“Personal relationships? Even friendships are forbidden?” she asked the head trainer, TJ, for clarification.

“It depends. You can be friendly, sure, but I would avoid spending time with the players outside of training and game times. Could be seen as unprofessional.”

Y/N understood why such rules were in place, and she had no issue with it at the time. A woman securing a position on a professional sports team was rare, let alone a woman securing a position with a professional men’s team. She knew when she chose this career path that it would always be an uphill battle and that she’d have to work harder and be more strategic than the men in her field. She wanted- no, needed to excel and prove that she could be a talented athletic therapist and a valuable member of the team, so she had no intention whatsoever of messing that up with any type of personal relationships. She also understood the power dynamic between the professional athletes and the support staff, the different ways in which power can be abused, and how personal relationships could complicate things. It all made sense to her. Plus, she was happy enough with just becoming friends with the other trainers and she probably wouldn’t have a lot of free time, anyways, balancing her practicum and her school work.

Today, however, she couldn’t help the very slight pull on her heartstrings at the thought of not getting to know Harry Styles on a more personal level.

As if he’d even be interested in the first place.

In a hotel restaurant in Sunrise, Florida, a few hours after the draft, Harry Styles sat with his mother Anne, sister Gemma, and agent Jeff, celebrating his newly drafted status over a bottle of champagne. He knew he should be feeling elated, like it was the best day of his life, but all he felt was exhausted. The conversation at the table happened around him while he sat in his own head, unable to think about anything but what it might feel like to be tucked into his bed in his childhood bedroom in Holmes Chapel.

The weeks leading up to the draft were an absolute circus filled with interviews and talking to the media nearly every day (he hates talking to the media), shooting promo for all of his endorsements (he’s thankful for the money they give him but he knows he is an excruciatingly terrible actor), and flying around North America to visit all of the potential cities where he might be drafted (it was a pointless tour because everyone knew where he was going to end up).

He had only tonight to celebrate with his family before it was all set to start again. Him and Jeff will fly off to Edmonton tomorrow morning for a week to speak to the media there, meet the teammate he’ll be living with, and do a surprise skating session with some kids at a summer camp. Meanwhile, his mum and sister will fly back to England.

“Any idea where you’ll live then?” Anne asked her son, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the conversation.

“Hm?” He hadn’t a clue what his mum just asked him but he’d hate to admit that rather than listening to anything the three of them had been talking about for the last hour he’d been thinking about how he’d rather be sleeping “Sorry, I think the champagne’s got to me a bit.”

“The team’s got him living with one of his older teammates and his family.” Jeff stepped in, knowing Harry wasn’t fully paying attention. “They do this with the young guys to get them used to living on their own. Teach ‘em how to cook, do laundry, and keep ‘em in line. He won’t be partying every night and bringing girls back to his place if he lives with the guy’s wife and kids.”

“Oh please,” Gemma chimed in. “Not like any of that would be an issue for Harry. He’s been away from home for years. And he’s hardly got time for partying and dating.”

Harry shot Jeff a look warning him to keep his mouth shut. When Harry found out about the living arrangements the team had planned for him, he was less than pleased. After all, he’d just spent the last year living in a dorm room at the University of North Dakota where he had complete freedom. Gemma was right, he didn’t have much time for partying and dating. But he liked having his own space, and he really liked being able to invite someone over after a game, either to celebrate a win or relieve some stress after a loss.

“You never know, some of these young guys get their first big pay cheque and a taste of the big leagues and it can go off the rails pretty fast.”

“I like to think I raised my baby to know better than to get caught up in a pay cheque.” Anne placed a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder and he quickly reciprocated, reaching up to place his hand over hers.

Not liking where this conversation was going, Harry finally cut in. “You did. And Jeffrey, you know I’m not that kinda guy. Either way, none of this matters if I don’t make it past training camp. For all we know I could be going back to the juniors for the season.”

“Doesn’t matter who you are or what kinda guy you are, H, it’s just what the team does. It’s tradition. And c’mon, I know you like to keep your expectations in check, but the team’s made it pretty clear that you’re gonna be in the starting lineup come October.”

Jeff was right. The team had all but promised that he would make it past training camp. The question wasn’t if he’d make it past training camp, but in what shape he’d be in and how long it would take for the team to start winning games.

“The coach said I’m small and need to bulk up, especially since I’ll be playing against older, more experienced men.” Harry could feel the weight of his mum’s gaze as she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not quite where I need to be yet, but I’ll get there.”

Harry and his family were stood in the hotel lobby with Jeff, convening on plans for the morning when he felt a small tug on the hem of his red floral suit jacket. He spun himself around, ready to confront the individual bold enough to touch him without his consent, to find a young girl, no older than five years old staring up at him.

Harry looked at her, a bit taken aback and undoubtedly with a bit of confusion written on his face, and then spotted, a few feet behind her, two individuals who were most likely her parents. Suddenly, he realized that he may have actually had a few too many glasses of champagne and immediately tried to compose himself, standing straighter and trying to will away the exhaustion in his eyes and the haziness in his mind.

“Oh - um, hello there.” He cleared his throat before using the soft voice he reserves for adorable, small children like the one stood before him.

“Are you Harry Styles?” She asked with wide eyes and a small, timid voice.

“I am, sweetheart. What can I do for you?”

A bright smile etched itself onto her face. But instead of answering him, she looked back at the adults standing behind her, motioning for them to help as she was too shy to proceed on her own. The man, who Harry presumed was her father, moved to stand beside her.

“This is Millie. She wanted to say hi to you because she’s a big fan of yours.”

Harry lowered himself in front of the young girl so that he was crouched down and eye-level with her. “Hi Millie, it’s a real pleasure to meet you.” He reached out to shake the young girl’s small hand. “Have you got anything that I could sign? Or I suppose we could take a photo if you’d like?”

The young girl removed her hand from Harry’s, nodding her head eagerly. She began to unzip her jacket, revealing a bright orange Edmonton Oilers jersey underneath.

“Oh? Look at that! You’re an Oilers fan. In Florida?” Harry lifted himself from his crouched position and directed his question toward at the girl’s father.

“Yes, well, we actually travelled here from Edmonton, to watch the draft in person.” Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. He knew that the flight from Edmonton to Florida is long, and likely expensive. The tickets to attend the draft live probably weren’t cheap either. “It’s not every day your favourite team picks first overall! Let alone gets to pick a player like you. We were so excited so we decided to make a family trip out of it. Turn around, Millie, show him the back!” Millie’s father handed Harry a sharpie as Millie turned her back to Harry.

It was at that moment that Harry started to understand the weight of the moment. The name ‘STYLES’ was embroidered on the back of Millie’s Oilers jersey, above the number ‘15’ indicating his draft year. He was speechless. This was, after all, the first time he was seeing his name in the classic Oilers’ orange and blue colours adorned on a fan’s back.

The feeling was different from earlier at the draft when they presented him with his own jersey. This one belonged to someone else. Someone bought his jersey before he’d even ever played a single minute for the team. They flew across the continent, from Edmonton to Florida, just to watch him get drafted. It was a lot for his hazy, champagne-diluted mind to take in.

Realizing he’d just been standing there staring at the jersey, he cleared his throat once again in hopes that he could hide the unknown thoughts and emotions he was trying to reconcile. “Wow, um, I didn’t realize you could get these already.”

Millie’s father laughed, “Man, they’ve been selling these in Edmonton since they announced we’d be picking first in the draft.” Again, the feeling was overwhelming for Harry.

We’d be picking first in the draft.

To this family, and probably others in Edmonton, the Oilers were “we”. They win together, they lose together. If the Oilers pick first in the draft, they all pick first. It was their team. And now he, Harry, was a part of that “we”.

Harry reached down to sign the jersey on Millie’s back, quickly scribbling his autograph on the left side. As he straightened himself, he felt Anne move to stand beside him, apparently having sensed her son’s unease and unconscious need for his mother to join him in this moment.

“Hi, I’m Harry’s mum, Anne. Would you like me to take a picture of the four of you?” Millie’s father eagerly handed his phone to Anne and waved his wife over to be in the photo. Several photos of Harry and the family were taken, followed by a few of just Harry and Millie.

“Would you mind if I took one of Harry and Millie on my phone as well?” Anne asked as she snapped the last photo. “This is the first time Harry’s met a fan wearing his name on an Oilers jersey. We’d like to remember it.”

The family was more than happy to oblige so Anne took a few more photos on her phone, including one where Millie’s back was to the camera and the ‘STYLES’ name in full view.

It was so like his mum to understand how special the moment was and to come in and save him. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling in that moment, as understanding emotions and sentimentality were not his greatest strengths, and he most definitely never would have asked to take a photo to keep for himself had she not done it.

The obvious feelings were joy and gratitude. Every day he was thankful to play the game he loved, to be successful, and to have fans that loved and supported him. It didn’t always make sense that complete strangers paid him so much attention just for playing a game, but he accepted it and always tried to show those strangers kindness in return. However, there was another feeling lingering, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Looking at his mum, he knew that she knew what it was. She always knew. And certainly she would make him talk about it later.

As they separated from the family and walked toward the hotel elevators, where Gemma and Jeff were waiting, Anne grabbed onto her son’s arm, holding him close as they walked side by side.

“Do you see that they love you already, my darling?” She asked. Harry raised an eyebrow at his mum, unsure of what she was going on about. “I know you. I know that you care what people think and that you are scared to disappoint them. You just need to step out on the ice and be yourself. Just be Harry. They already love you and this is only just the beginning.”

WOW! OK. I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I wanted this chapter to be more of an introduction to harry and the mc and to the fan culture that harry is about to experience!! I’ve already started on the next part so that should be up before Christmas! If you’ve made it this far, all I can say is that I love you and appreciate you. If you liked it, please let me know. I debated not posting this so many times (and I might even regret it later) so feedback will certainly ease my troubled mind!! I ALWAYS LOVE YOU, BUT ESPECIALLY TODAY!! xx Shan.

Harry’s Draft Day Look

talk to me about generational | fic masterlist

#wow i'm so nervous to post this #generational #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #hockey harry styles #athlete harry styles

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belovasangel · 4 years

Text

Come Back to Me

Summary: Shawn missing big events leaves to beautiful memories and Christmas miracles

Pairing: Shawn x fem!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: swearing, light angst, fluff, flashback heavy, holiday feelings

A/N: Yup. Surprise. Also flashbacks are in italics, per usual. Also I am not Canadian so I don’t know if y’all celebrate Remembrance Day. For the sake of this story, pretend that it’s the equivalent to Thanksgiving.

Shawn took your hand as you barreled down the sidewalk, laughs flying past you in the wind. Tonight had been a perfect date, something great to wrap the summer up, full of time alone with your favorite guy (and your favorite wine). He had been planning this for weeks now, and you can even remember him talking about this back in June when his tour had been announced. The pandemic put a damper on your two’s plans since March, but once the numbers started decreasing did he get calls from managers, and then... there was another world tour. You weren’t mad, music was his passion. Even though you two would be wrapped in each other’s arms after a lovely night, you could tell behind his eyes he longed to play the guitar for different cities.

That’s why tonight was so important, because he started packing and planning, then he would leave on Wednesday for Prague. And of course, your job needed you in Toronto. While Canada hasn’t experienced any significantly alarming numbers, there were still cases rolling in. You insisted that Shawn goes on tour, so much that you had to pay for his first ticket yourself (he payed you back, though. He insisted).

Shawn skidded to a stop, turning around and putting his hands on your shoulders. “Now promise me you’re gonna close your eyes, just for a few seconds.”

You huffed and shrugged your shoulders, “Shawn I’m out of breathe, you made me run in heels for about half a mile... Give me 5 minutes instead.” With a quick chuckle, he pecked your lips and turned you around. You heard his shuffling from those black boots he wears to rubble, then decided to look around. He somehow managed to find a quaint park, with a nice bubbling fountain and family’s scattered around. Dogs were running a lit in the distance, and the bustle of the city wasn’t nearly as booming as it usually is. This was nice.

“Okay, turn around.”

With a giggle, you turned around to see Shawn on one knee. Behind him was a tree strung with lights that were glowing, and underneath the tree was champagne and a radio playing your two’s song, Turning the Page (Yeah, we know it’s from Twilight, but that doesn’t stop it from being any less romantic). He was kneeled on a red and white picnic blanket, the typical one you’d see in catalogues for fall. On the blanket were rose petals scattered.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), you have changed my life for the better. The moment you saw me in the E.R., and had to take care of my broken hand, I knew you were just as kind and gentle as you looked. Once you let me in, and take you on that shitty first date, I got to see the real you. The you that cries during every Disney movie, the you that would bring me breakfast in bed when I had a rough day, the you that would rescue a damn pigeon off the street because it looked sad. You are the most sincere, selfless, and intelligent woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I don’t want ever want to stop or slow down. You have become my life and my rock, I’m completely lost without you. I am utterly in love with you, (Y/N). I want us to have a family, I want to make an album for you, and everything in between. Will you please marry me?”

You shuddered awake, looking quickly at your blaring alarm from the end table. Picking it up and turning it off, the time read 4:25 A.M., signaling it was time to get ready for work. You got up, and went to open the blinds to your bedroom, watching the snow fall steadily. Slipping on your socks and bathrobe, you shuffled to the kitchen to get a cup of tea brewing before you hit the shower.

Mornings like this weren’t incredibly tough anymore, once Shawn was gone on tour. He face-timed you once a week because of tour, sent you letters and packages from your favorite cities, and even had roses delivered on your birthday. And of course, he always said, “Lemme see it. I wanna see you wear that pretty ring. There it is, there she is, soon-to-be Mrs. Mendes.”

Slipping in the hot shower, you played some of his songs, some of your regular playlists, and when you were throwing on your outfit, your two’s song. You missed Shawn. He had missed your two’s favorite holiday, Halloween, where you two always did the cheesy couple costumes. He missed your birthday, but he sent his family in place. He missed Remembrance Day, because in Europe that wasn’t a thing. And tomorrow is Christmas, where he has no sign of coming home whatsoever. That’s fine, though, because you took the long shift at the hospital.

When the song came to an end, you threw on your coat and snow boots, grabbing all the food and equipment you would need for a 12-hour and began to head out. Shawn sent you his daily vlog and you watched that on the shuttle. Once that was over, you got to the hospital where you would forget about your slightly more aching heart. After work, the routine would basically go in reverse. Commute home, get back into your pajama’s, drink some tea, get dinner, and go to bed, where you would have a restless night in an empty bed.

“When do you think we should have the wedding?”

Shawn looked over, a piece of popcorn hanging onto his lip like a lifeline. His cheeks were flushed and he still looked a little sweaty from the show he just played at TD Garden. He knew you were doing the planning to keep yourself from descending into madness (well, not entirely, but you only brought it up when you really missed him). “I think we should do a summer/fall sort of wedding, like when the leaves are red but it isn’t freezing by 5, ya know?”

You hummed in agreement, a smile picking at the corners of your mouth. “I completely agree. Do you want it to be outdoors then, because of the leaves?”

Shawn took another few things of popcorn from the bag and popped them into his swollen lips, he always licked them when he was frustrated by how a show went, or just when his mind was reeling. “I think we should get married outdoors, and then have the reception indoors. Kind of like-”

“Twilight...”

You both looked at the screen and snorted, sending both of you into fits of hysteria. “Shawn, we really base our relationship off of those books, didn’t we?” He looked over, licking his lips once again. “Explain, babe. I get a little bit, but our whole relationship?”

You shuffled in the bed a little bit, “Hear me out, Shawn-y boy. We met when you were hurt and I had to save you, or more-so your career. Edward saved Bella from the car, right? Right. So, there’s that. Then that girl who you worked on the album with tried to get you on the few dates, but that was long after we were official. Boom, Jacob plot line. Then you leave me for your first tour, which I get 100%, so don’t be upset over that. But the girl you worked with saw you kind of sad and made it her mission to befriend you and then attempt to change your mind over me... And our song is the one from their wedding, and we want an outdoors-y wedding.....”

Shawn looked at the screen, then back to the popcorn leaking butter in his hands. “Damn. So you’re saying that I’m Bella?” You began to shake your head, cheeks turning red. “Maybe I meant that wrong, but-”

“No, no you’re saying I’m Bella. Does that mean I get to wear the dress? I cannot wait to get married with no emotions and then have the ugliest CGI baby in the history of cinematics. Aren’t you so excited for that, my love?”

“Absolutely thrilled.”

The alarm on your phone blared once again, pulling you from Shawn. You picked up the phone, getting a few “Merry Christmas” texts from family and friends. You assumed Shawn was out partying with his crew mates, plus it must’ve been a busy day altogether. Turning off the alarm and standing, you pulled on the slippers and followed your routine again.

Once it got to 6:07, and still no text from Shawn, you decided to call him. Immediately, you were sent to voicemail. With a sigh, you waited for voicemail.

“Hey bubs, Merry Christmas! I miss you more than ever, it’s snowing here pretty rough. I know you’d probably go outside right about now and insist to make a snowman or some angels, so that might be a mission for me after work. Um, I wanted to let you know that I love you so much, and I hope you’re having fun on tour... The apartment isn’t the same without you here, especially around this time. You’re probably having fun with your friends and I don’t wanna intrude on that, so I’ll hang up. I love you Shawn, be careful. Stay safe, come back to me soon. Bye.”

Wiping the tear that fell down your cheek, you stepped outside your apartment, hopped into the elevator and began the commute to your shift. You got to work on record time, beginning your patient rounds and vitals, then celebrating with the coworkers. Working 6:30 AM-9:30 PM would be a tough one, but whatever to keep you under that roof. Plus, double-time because of the holiday.

Once it hit 9:30, you booked it out of the hospital and onto the shuttle. Your eyes were barely open as you saw the texts from Shawn.

(Shawn) 7:59 AM: Hey babe, I’m so sorry I didn’t answer your call! I can’t wait to see your face tonight, you still up for FaceTime?

(Shawn) 9:26 AM: I bet you’re busy, but I’m gonna be in a few conferences and doing press so I won’t be able to talk for a while. Love you!

(Shawn) 3:14 PM: (Y/N) I don’t think we can FaceTime tonight, I have to do something for a fan and it’s really important. I am so sorry.

(Shawn) 8:44 PM: Are you mad at me or are you still working?

(Shawn) 9:32 PM: Something is waiting for you at home, it’s your gift. I hope this can make up for the call!

You hopped out of the shuttle, heart feeling extra heavy as you walked into the apartment. The string lights and streamers along the walls were taunting you as the elevator brought you to your floor, and you tried to compose yourself until you would get inside. Stepping up to your door, you looked for the present, to no avail.

(Y/N) 9:45 PM: Shawn I don’t see a package

(Shawn) 9:45 PM: Mom must’ve brought it inside, I’m sure it’s there.

With a huff, you shoved the key into the door, and walked inside. Chucking your purse and coat onto the hooks, while flinging off your shoes, you composed yourself enough to look for the package. If he got it express-shipped it had to be good. Checking the kitchen was no luck, and the living room looked normal.

(Shawn) 9:48 PM: Bedroom, babe

With a gasp, you quickly buzzed to the bedroom, and laid your hand on the door. You stopped, hesitant to what was behind the door. What if it isn’t him? Taking a deep breath, you dismissed the negative thought and opened.

The room was filled with lit tea lights, rose petals on the bed and the floor, and Shawn. He was standing there in that chunky-white knit sweater you loved, with flushed cheeks and watery eyes, holding a bouquet of flowers, and your favorite song playing softly in the background.

You gasped, running into his arms with a squeal and sob, him mimicking the sound. He held onto the small of your back, and one hand on the back of your neck, and you felt his tears falling onto your skin. “I missed you so much, (Y/N). You don’t even know.” He pulled back slightly pressing his lips to yours in a soft embrace.

After a minute of kissing, you pulled back. “Merry Christmas, Shawn.”

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

#shawn #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #imagine #love #christmas #lumineshawn

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Fall-ing In Love

Author: @mandelion82

Prompt: Fall-ing in love. Picture this on a walk on an Autumn day. Chilly day. The leaves have changed, breathing it in… you notice how a dock is still out in the water. You stand on it breathing in that air… until a dog barks which startles you and you fall in. Boy walking the dog jumps into the semi chilly water to save you. He takes you to his house to warm up….he’s cute, btw. Hope this is something you can work with. [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125]

Rating: T (to be safe, for mentions of alcohol)

Author’s Note: Canadian!Peeta x American!Katniss, meet-cute. Some of the places are real, including, of course, Manitoba, Winnipeg and Tim Hortons. Some places (and things) are made-up, obviously, so don’t bust me, my Canadian friends. I tried to be as accurate as I could on things I didn’t make up, lol. So, this was getting much too long for a prompt fic, but I am considering continuing it on A03 in the near future. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for the prompt, @katnissandpeeta125!

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It was October 9th, and the Everdeens‒Katniss, her sister, Primrose, and their mother‒were currently making the drive up to Manitoba, Canada from their home in Grand Forks, North Dakota. They were traveling to visit their Uncle Haymitch for Canadian Thanksgiving, which fell this year on October 12th.

Katniss and Prim’s mother’s brother was a solitary man, an alcoholic grump, to put it bluntly, who had no real interest in associating with anyone as far as Katniss knew. But her mother had decreed they should all get to know him better. Katniss knew that her motivation lay in regret, regret that she’d lost touch with him after he moved to Canada, and other things… And now that her husband had passed, and with Haymitch being her only living older relative, she wanted them all to forge a closer relationship with the man.

Good luck to them.

Initially, her mother had tried to get Haymitch to visit them in the US, but he’d refused, saying he didn’t plan on leaving his home, ever. Stubborn as a mule. And so, her mother had suggested they visit him. Truth be told, Katniss was shocked that old Haymitch had agreed, and from the sounds of it, it had taken some arm-twisting. But, in the end, Haymitch had welcomed them to stay in his house, saying his casa was their casa. He’d said it was because he couldn’t turn away family, but Katniss suspected it had a lot to do with her mother offering to cook a large meal for him.

Haymitch Abernathy was basically a hermit, a hermit with a very nice, very large home‒he lived in a rustic, spacious log and stone cabin on Lake Victor in the small town of Panem, just outside of Winnipeg. The trip to see him had somehow turned into a three-week ordeal, their mother having decided they might as well make a vacation out of it.

Katniss had no idea how this was going to work. Her mother had promised Haymitch they wouldn’t be a burden, that he’d barely know they were there. Given how big his home appeared in photos, that might be possible, if it weren’t for her mother’s lofty ideals of getting to know him better. Katniss could just picture it: her mother waiting on her uncle hand-and-foot, trying to get them all to bond, organizing family game nights, and consequently, Uncle Haymitch fighting the urge to jump out the window. Well, he might like the being waited on part.

The reason they could take such a long trip was that their mother had her own business she could take anywhere; Prim attended one of those year-round high schools with the unusual breaks, and as for twenty-one-year-old Katniss, she’d long since graduated.

Katniss had been accepted to a state university in North Dakota, but admittedly, she was torn about actually attending. For one, the tuition and fees were outrageous; it had seemed like a waste of money they didn’t have. On top of that, she hadn’t qualified for financial aid, and so, she’d been working her butt off for nearly two years to save up enough to get started. Her mom, and even sixteen-year-old Prim, had been scrimping and saving in order for her to go to college, too. It brought Katniss endless guilt, even more upon the realization that she was no longer certain it was what she wanted.

She didn’t really know what she wanted to study or do with her life; all she knew was that she wanted to take care of her family and see Prim succeed. When their mother shut down for nearly six months after their father died, Katniss had feared everything would fall apart. She didn’t know how to reach her mother, and she hadn’t been prepared to basically become her sister’s caretaker at seventeen. She loved Prim; in fact, Prim was the only person in the living world she was sure she loved, but it had been nearly too much. They’d managed, though, as always.

Now, Prim had dreams of becoming a doctor. She had real potential, too. Medical school was crazy-expensive, though, and Katniss wondered if perhaps her college money would be better invested in helping Prim reach her goal. Katniss was more of the worker bee, anyway. She’d been thinking about this a lot on their drive up, that is when Prim wasn’t prodding her into singing along with the radio (because she loved her voice) and playing car games.

The Everdeens had taken an alternative route to Canada because Prim had expressed interest in visiting the International Peace Garden. When they arrived at the border, a friendly guard with an accent not too dissimilar from Katniss and Prim’s mother greeted them. He went about his routine check and sent them on their way with no issue, and they entered their neighbor to the north.

Although they’d gone out of their way quite a bit, for Katniss, it was worth it to see Prim’s face as they walked through the floral (fortunately still in bloom) grounds of the Peace Garden. They toured the Sunken Garden and saw the Promise of Peace sculpture, a set of hands releasing a dove, which Prim loved and had to snap selfies of herself by, along with the entire family. They moved on to the North American Game Warden Museum, which Katniss found interesting, and then to the floral clock, another favorite of Prim’s. After that, they had a small picnic in the picnic area and finished off their tour.

______________

Because of the detour, the Everdeens didn’t arrive at Haymitch’s place until well after three. Haymitch’s wooden home was adjacent to the serene blue-green Lake Victor, surrounded by tall evergreen trees and a mix of pine, balsam, ash, and poplar, whose leaves had transformed into a palette of brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges. Upon first inspection, it seemed to be the perfect escape into nature.

When they pulled up, Katniss saw Haymitch exiting his home and approaching their car.

“Well, there they are,” greeted her old uncle in his still-Americanized accent. He was obviously trying to sound peppy, but Katniss could tell he was skeptical about all this. So was she.

Shutting her driver’s side car door, “Hello, Haymitch,” her mother greeted him with a smile. She stepped forward, reaching out for him. Haymitch met her halfway and gave her a squeeze. He also hugged Prim, then reluctantly turned to Katniss.

There was no need to bother with it or mince words‒they both knew the other wasn’t a hugger, and they accepted that. Haymitch forced himself with his sister and with Prim, and as for Katniss, she didn’t really like being touched by anyone except Prim, and previously, her father.

“How ya doing, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked, keeping his distance as if she was something venomous. Okay by her.

“Fine, Haymitch,” she replied. “And you?”

“Just dandy. Uh,” he turned back to the other two, “why don’t y’all come in,” he offered, motioning with his hand toward the house. They followed him inside, only to stand in the foyer for several awkward moments before Haymitch offered them the grand tour.

The place was indeed large, with high ceilings supported by long, thick logs and massive windows, which could definitely use a dusting but beheld incredible views just the same. It was refreshingly uncluttered, aside from a substantial collection of alcohol behind his bar and in the liquor cabinet. Surprise, surprise. Haymitch warned the girls about sneaking some of his liquor, but that was neither here nor there. Katniss had never touched the stuff in her life and didn’t plan to start now, and Prim would never do such a thing. Always sweet as peaches, she’d never even gone through a rebellious teenage phase.

Next, Haymitch showed them to their rooms‒there were enough for all of them to have one to themselves. Katniss took the smallest guest room, giving her mother the largest and her sister the one with the best view. Katniss didn’t plan on staying in the house much, anyway.

After that, her mother got right to work, settling in and cleaning up around Haymitch’s place before announcing she was going to start dinner. Haymitch grumbled a little, but ultimately, didn’t stop her, especially with the promise of food hanging in the air. And while his sister made herself at home, Haymitch opted for taking a bottle of whiskey and a glass to his favorite chair.

______________

After a big meal and a little conversation, the Everdeens retired to their respective rooms. Katniss assumed her mother would be reading and Prim would be listening to music or on her phone if she didn’t lose signal, and as for Katniss, she was planning to go out tomorrow morning, so she prepared her bag and went to sleep.

That night, Katniss dreamt of her father. She hadn’t done so in a long time, but being in this place brought him readily to mind. It was the woods. Being in the woods reminded her so much of him. She wasn’t sure how to feel about her mind suddenly being flooded with thoughts of her dad. On the one hand, her memories of him were cherished, but on the other, sometimes forgetting was easier…

______________

In the still of morning, just as the sun peeked out over the horizon, Katniss slipped out of bed. The house was peacefully quiet, aside from the typical early morning noises emanating from the wilderness outside. She dressed quickly and took the stairs as softly as possible, avoiding the couple of spots she’d discovered creaked loudly. She walked into the wide-open living room and was surprised to find Haymitch already awake, seated in his green overstuffed chair with his feet propped up on the coffee table, staring out the windows. He didn’t even turn to look at her when he said, “Good mornin’.”

“Good morning,” she muttered back, stepping into her boots she’d left by the door. She laced them up and grabbed her father’s old, leather hunting jacket.

“Going out?” he asked in a gruff, groggy tone.

Katniss shrugged on the jacket. She could tell by the air that slipped in through the cracks of the windows upstairs that it was chilly out, but she had on layers, so she should stay warm enough.

“Yeah,” she said, hiking her bag up onto her shoulder.

Katniss expected her uncle to question where she was going (she didn’t really know where) and when she’d be back (she didn’t know that, either) as her mother and Prim would, but all he said was, “There’s some bear spray on the table. Take it with you.”

She could get used to this, decided Katniss. A quick verbal exchange or, even better, none. She lightly pressed her lips together and thanked her uncle as she snatched the canister of deterrent from off the table and stuck it in her pants pocket. And she went outside.

It was, indeed, chilly out, but not the unpleasant kind that cuts straight through you to the bone. Katniss observed the morning mist rising on the water and breathed in the perfect scent of trees and distant mountain air. Again, she was reminded of her father. Despite the bittersweet nostalgia, getting back to nature was always a good thing for Katniss. Maybe this place was a good idea after all. Sticking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she trudged off, traveling the short distance down to the lake.

She hadn’t gone far when she noticed a long, wooden dock. She stepped onto the dock and took the walk all the way to the end. The tips of her boots just barely hung over the edge. Around her, it was almost completely silent, aside from the occasional honk of the geese flying in formation overhead. Katniss looked up, then down and out across the reflective surface of the water, now illuminated by the rising sun casting its soft pink and yellow glow. A pair of loons swam by, barely even noticing or caring about her. They must be used to people, she surmised. Not like this was a hopping tourist spot, but clearly, people lived here as she’d noticed several other large homes around.

Katniss took in the rest of her surroundings visually, then shut her eyes and breathed in deep. It was definitely Fall. Fall had that exact same smell every year whether in the United States or Canada, and once again, it was one she so closely linked with her father.

As she stood on the edge of the dock, a loud bark pierced the morning stillness. It was so high-pitched, so sudden, and so close that Katniss lost her balance, opening her eyes just in time to go careening into the lake. She was cold and wet, and it took her a moment to realize what had just happened and to get her bearings. By the time she did, a pair of strong arms were wrapped around her middle, pulling her back toward the dock. Somehow, she’d swum out a few yards in the wrong direction, probably disoriented by the shock of the surprisingly frigid-for-Fall water.

But who had her around the waist?

She was barely able to register the solid form of a guy before he hefted her onto the dock. Katniss got to her feet and took a couple of steps back, allowing him room to pull himself out of the water. She heard that unmistakable bark again and looked to see the dog (she assumed) that’d startled her swimming up behind the guy. The dog’s owner turned around and pulled it out of the water, setting it on the dock; it licked his face then trotted off toward land, giving her a cursory glance and a sniff along the way. Fortunately, it waited to pass by her before shaking out its thick, reddish-brown fur.

It was only then that Katniss got a good look at her ‘rescuer.’ Standing at full medium height on the edge of the dock, she noticed he was broad-shouldered and stocky, with ashy blond hair that fell in damp waves across his forehead. And very blue eyes. He was cute. Really cute, actually. Maybe the cutest guy she’d seen in a while, at least that she could recall right now. But maybe her brain was frozen from icy water.

“Are you alright?” the guy asked sincerely.

“Y-yeah,” she mumbled, hugging herself as she involuntarily began to shiver. It hadn’t seemed very cold out, but of course, that’d all changed now that she was soaked through and the wind was hitting her. “Wh-why…did…y-you do that?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

The guy didn’t answer but, instead, grabbed his coat lying on the dock and strode over to her. With surprising flair, he whipped it around, draping it across her shoulders. She wanted to protest, but it was so cold, and his jacket was so warm that she couldn’t seem to form one. She shrugged it on, and he helped her slip her trembling arms through the holes. As if that wasn’t kind enough, he even zipped the jacket up for her. It felt like something an overly doting boyfriend would do, and despite her cheeks being practically frozen solid, she felt them heat up.

And then, when he began brusquely rubbing her arms to create friction through his coat, she blushed even harder. A stranger was touching her‒she barely let her family do so‒in a practical yet affectionate manner, and she wasn’t even resisting…

Katniss stared briefly down at her soggy boots, then raised her gray eyes to meet his blue ones. “Um, thanks. What about you?” she asked, referring to his lack of coat.

He dropped his hands to his sides, giving her a small smile. “I’m fine.”

Clearly, he wasn’t. His burnt orange sweater and khaki pants were saturated, and every few seconds or so, he’d shiver. He was obviously freezing but trying to hide it. A guy thing, she supposed.

“Why did you do that?” she repeated her earlier question. “You didn’t need to do that. I was fine. I know how to swim.”

Honestly, she wanted to rant at him. There was no reason for him to jump in; it made no sense at all, and now they were both soaked through.

He shrugged, then embraced himself for warmth. “I didn’t know that. As for why, it was instinct. I just saw a person in trouble, and when a guy sees that, he’s gotta act.”

So, he was just doing the decent thing any guy would do… Not any guys she knew. Maybe Canadian ones were different.

“I’m Peeta,” he said, extending his hand to her. “Peeta Mellark.”

“Katniss,” she replied, giving it a brief shake. “Everdeen,” she added hesitantly.

He smiled at her. “Well, Katniss Everdeen, we, uh, probably shouldn’t stay out here, wet like this.” She was surprised he hadn’t said so sooner, and she was surprised neither of them had made any move to leave. “Where’d you say you were staying?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I didn’t.”

“Well,” he exhaled, “if it’s far, maybe you better come to my place.”

“What?” There was no way she was going off with a total stranger, to his house, no matter how cute or charismatic he was.

“To get warmed up. It’s just over there.” He pointed, and she followed his finger. It was the house directly across the lake from Haymitch’s.

“It’s really not far to where I’m staying,” she said, not wanting to tell him exactly where.

“Yeah, but it’s a bit nippy, Katniss,” he persisted, briskly rubbing his own arms, “and being wet like that, you could catch your death of pneumonia, eh?”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “How do I know you won’t kill me?”

Peeta smiled wider, revealing a pair of dimples. “Do I look dangerous?”

She scrutinized him, his innocent little grin, those soft blue eyes crinkled up at the corners. “No, but appearances can be deceiving.”

“Sure they can. But hey, I promise I won’t hurt ya.” He held up his hand in some kind of scouts’ honor symbol. “We Canadians are very friendly.”

“It’s really not necessary, Peeta. You should go home and get yourself warm.”

“Sorry. I would, Katniss, but Canadian hospitality dictates that I see you get warmed up, or at least get to the place you’re staying. I can tell you’re not from around here.”

Was that supposed to be an insult or simply an observation? Even if it was meant to be the former, he’d said it in such a polite manner that she couldn’t take it as such.

Katniss heaved a sigh. “Okay.” She didn’t need it on her conscience if this nice guy got sick.

“Good!” Peeta exclaimed, bouncing a little. She didn’t know whether from excitement over her agreement or trying to keep warm. Maybe a little of both. This got his dog excited, too, and it barked from beside him.

“But, for your sake, I hope you’re harmless because I’ve got bear spray in my pocket.”

Peeta raised a brow. “I see. Well then, I’d better be on my best behavior, huh? Cause that stuff’ll mess you up!” He grinned at her, and the corners of Katniss’s lips twitched in response.

“Shall we go, then?” he suggested, motioning. Still being ultra polite, even though he had to be an icicle by now. She nodded.

Why was she agreeing to this? Katniss wondered. Haymitch’s house was right over there. It wouldn’t take her that long to get there. Was she crazy?

She didn’t have much time to ponder it, though, because Peeta was already gently leading her off, his hand ever so lightly brushing her back.

______________

Peeta’s home was nearly as large as Haymitch’s and looked quite similar on the outside. Inside, it was structurally the same, yet completely different. He had art on the walls, a few sculptures, and hockey paraphernalia, the Winnipeg Jets. Overall, the place felt homier, warmer, and definitely more colorful.

“It’s nice.” She was trying to be polite, though she knew she wasn’t anywhere near as polite as he was. “Do you live here alone?” she asked, glancing around for any signs of others.

“Most of the time,” was his confusing response. He noticed her bewildered expression and gave a small chuckle. “Sometimes my parents come around, and one of my brothers stays here off and on.”

Well, that didn’t clear things up much.

“Long story.” He laughed.

Clearly.

“How old are you?” Katniss asked, not knowing where it came from. She hoped that wasn’t considered rude around these parts.

He didn’t hesitate to answer. “25.”

Peeta didn’t ask how old she was in turn, only smiled and led her upstairs. Katniss patted her pocket to make sure the canister was still there. Hopefully it still worked. But if Peeta was a killer, he was just about the nicest one she could imagine. Of course, wouldn’t that be the perfect crime?

He twisted the knob and pushed open the second door on the left, explaining that it was his room. He stepped in, but Katniss lingered in the doorway while he went to his closet. He rummaged around a bit before pulling out a sweater and pair of sweatpants.

“I’m sorry that this is all I have,” he said. “Not very fashionable, but it’s the smallest I own.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t really care about fashion.” She didn’t, and she was already feeling much warmer. She thought to tell him she should really just go now, but Peeta was insistent, and so, she took the clothes and allowed him to lead her to a bathroom down the hall. “This is the nice one,” he said. “For guests. There are some towels in there. Feel free to use anything you need.”

“Oh. Okay.” Once more, she nodded, and she stepped inside and locked the door.

After dressing, Katniss left the bathroom. Peeta was waiting, leaning against the wall with a bag in his hand. “Here, a bag to put your wet clothes in,” he said. He thought of everything.

It was only then that she caught his accent. Subtle yet noticeable, she heard it when he said certain words like bag, which he pronounced as a cross between ‘beg’ and ‘bayg.’ It wasn’t uncommon for people around her area and in nearby Minnesota to speak that way, so she hadn’t really thought about it, but she did now. She thought the subtle difference in his speech to be kind of cute, actually.

Peeta led her downstairs and asked her to wait on the couch. He still hadn’t changed himself, which she felt bad about. “I’ll be right back,” he said, dragging out the a in the word. “Then I’ll make you some tea.”

“You don’t have‒” she began, but she stopped herself, knowing it was useless to argue. This Canadian stranger’s hospitality apparently knew no bounds.

While he was changing, Katniss briefly wondered if she should just go, but that felt incredibly rude. He really had been so nice thus far, so she waited.

He came back, dressed in a hockey jersey and jeans. His still slightly damp, wavy hair was slicked back in some kind of style now. It made him look less boyish, more manly, and she couldn’t deny, quite attractive.

Peeta offered her tea once more, using his previous line about Canadian hospitality. She accepted and carefully watched him make it for her, so he didn’t slip anything in it.

“You use that excuse about hospitality a lot,” she quipped.

“S’not an excuse. It’s practically the law around these parts, sweetheart,” he said, handing her the tea.

“Sweetheart? Another Canadianism?” She was joking, of course. She knew full well it wasn’t because Haymitch called her that all the time, and he was originally American. It had always seemed like a strange term to Katniss, though, one that only truly fit with couples who’d been married forever, and not even then for her. She was never planning on getting married.

Then again, she kind of liked the sound of the word ‘sweetheart’ rolling off Peeta’s tongue…

“Nah, that one’s just mine.” He winked at her, and in spite of how forward she thought him, she smiled ever so faintly over her mug. Then she blew lightly on the tea and took a tentative sip. Just right.

She watched him prepare his own tea.

“You don’t take sugar in your tea?” she asked, noticing he hadn’t added any to his cup.

“Nah. I’m not much for sweet things. Drinks, anyway.” He winked at her again.

Katniss pressed her lips together. Was he flirting with her?

“Well, I like them. Sweet drinks,” she quickly added the second part. Peeta grinned at her clarification and took a seat on the couch with her, at the other end. She shifted in her spot, her back digging into the armrest. She was uncomfortable, yes, but not because she didn’t trust him. It was because of his looks and the scent coming from him and infused in the clothes she wore. Like cinnamon and dill.

“So, you’re from the States?” Peeta asked, taking a sip, then setting his cup down on the coffee table.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I can just tell. From the way you talk and your mannerisms.”

Katniss picked at a loose thread on the side of his sweatpants. She wasn’t really good at conversation, and she didn’t know what to say next, until she caught sight of his dog over in the corner. “So, your dog…um, what breed is he or she?”

“Oh, she’s a mutt.” Peeta laughed. Katniss laughed a little, too.

“Okay, but a mutt of what?”

“Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever and lab.”

Katniss nodded, even though she knew nothing about either type of dog, particularly the first. “I see. What’s her name?”

“Biscuit.”

“Biscuit. Really?”

“What?” He smirked.

“Well, it’s just…a little generic, isn’t it?”

“Generic, huh?” Peeta chuckled. “Well, I didn’t name her. My brother did. Used to be his dog, but he found out his wife’s allergic. He was gonna have to give her up, so I took her.”

“That was nice of you.”

“I s’pose.” He shrugged. “Figured he could at least see Biscuit this way. I call her Cookie most of the time, though, because that’s what a biscuit is here. My brother’s into American slang,” he explained.

“I see. Well, it’s…cute.”

Peeta smiled.

They talked a while longer, about basic things mainly, and after some time, Peeta cleared his throat. “So, Katniss, I was wondering…now that we’re dry, would you like to have some breakfast with me?”

“Uh…”

“If you haven’t had any, and you’re hungry, that is.”

“Well…”

“I would cook for you, Katniss. I’m a decent cook, but I don’t have much in the house right now. Wasn’t expecting company.” Company. Meaning, the klutzy girl he’d fished out of the lake then dragged home to make sure she got dry and warm, all out of the goodness of his heart.

“So, I was thinking I could take you out somewhere. Would you allow it?”

She should turn him down, say she needs to go or that her family is expecting her. Speaking of which, her family…she’d almost forgotten about them. They probably were wondering what happened to her.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said, rather regrettably.

“Please, Katniss. I’d really like to make it up to you. It was Cookie’s fault you fell in the lake.”

Peeta put on a smile, and it was so bright and beautiful and hopeful that she hated to wipe it away by saying no.

“Well…I…should check in with my family first.”

“So, you’ll allow it?” he asked, grinning like mad.

“Yeah,” she smiled back, “I’ll allow it.”

She might as well. If the guy was going to kill her or attack her, he would have done it by now, wouldn’t he? She shook her head at her own thoughts.

Then, another popped in.

“Hey, do you have Tim Hortons?”

Peeta chuckled. “Oh, you like Timmies, eh?”

“Yeah, I like the timbits.”

“A lot of Americans do, but let me tell you a secret…” He leaned across the couch, not close enough to touch her but enough that she could see the sparkle in his eyes and feel his breath against her face. “They’re much better here than in the States.”

Katniss smirked. “I see.”

“No offense to you guys, of course. And to answer your question, we do have Timmies, but it’s all the way in Winnipeg. I don’t mind taking you there, but would your family miss you?” He was giving her that dimpled grin again.

Katniss laughed, a little awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, maybe someplace closer?”

“I know just the place. A local place. Better than Timmies, too.”

“Okay. Well, I should, uh…” She rose from the couch, and he bolted upright at the same time. Probably’d been taught it was good manners. “Get back.”

“May I walk you?” he asked.

“Uh…” She hesitated. How would it look if she came strolling back to Haymitch’s house with a guy? Then again, how was it going to look when she told her family she was planning to go out for breakfast with the cute Canadian stranger across the lake? She couldn’t believe she was going to have breakfast with a cute Canadian stranger she just met…

But she actually wanted to go.

Katniss let Peeta walk her most of the way back to Haymitch’s then exchanged numbers and told him she’d meet him in twenty minutes at the dock. She figured she could ask Haymitch about him. It might be embarrassing, but she needed to find out a bit more information before going somewhere with him. As for her number, well, she couldn’t believe she’d given him that, but at least it gave her the option of blowing him off without in-person contact if she needed to. Then, if worse came to worse and he kept trying to contact her, she could always shut her phone off for the duration of the trip‒she barely used it, anyway‒and then she could get a new number back home…

______________

When Katniss returned, Haymitch’s place was alive and filled with noise. Prim’s singing reverberated off the rafters, and her mother and Haymitch were bickering like (most) siblings do about some nonsense.

“Katniss, there you are,” her mother exclaimed when she saw her, sounding a bit flustered. “Where were you?”

“I sent the bear spray with her,” Haymitch declared, throwing his hands up as if he expected to be blamed and to say it wasn’t his fault.

As for Katniss, she wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to say she was at some guy’s house, nor explain why she was wearing his clothes and carrying her damp ones in a bag.

“I went out for a walk,” she opted for. The three all turned toward her, examining her curiously.

“Katniss, what are you wearing?” asked her mother.

Great.

Well, she’d known that was coming. She should have tried to sneak in the back.

“Yeah,” Prim chimed in, “why are you wearing a sweater about three sizes too big for you that isn’t even yours, huh?!”

Might as well rip off the bandaid now. And so, she told the story…

“Oh, how romantic!” gushed Prim when she’d finished.

Their mother was staring at her while haphazardly wiping down the table for the third time, and Haymitch looked bored.

“It wasn’t romantic at all; it was stupid,” Katnis corrected, earning a disapproving look from Prim. “I was right off the dock, and I can swim, as you know, but this guy just jumped in after me. He said something about Canadian hospitality and how he just reacted.”

“What’d you say this guy’s name was?” asked Haymitch.

“Peeta. Peeta Mellark. He’s your neighbor.”

Realization began to dawn on Haymitch’s face.

“And where’d you say he lived?”

“Right across the lake,” Katniss answered. “You know him?”

Haymitch stroked his stubbled chin, and his mouth curled up. “Oh yeah, the boy across the lake. Yeah, I know him. Nice kid. Bakes good bread.”

“He baked bread for you?”

“Yeah, when I moved in. Said he was bein’ neighborly.”

Katniss smiled to herself. Yeah, that sounded like the Peeta she’d met…

“Wait, what happened after?” Prim interjected. “Are you wearing his clothes?! Did you go to his place?!” Her voice was coming out in squeals; she was getting entirely too excited about the whole thing.

Katniss sighed. “Yeah. I wasn’t going to, but he was insistent that I go to his place to dry off and warm up, and I had that bear spray in my pocket, so I figured if he turned out to be a psycho I could use that or kick him in the groin and run.”

Prim had the widest grin on her face now. “Oh, so he took you back to his place to ‘warm up,’ huh?” Prim used air quotes for the last part.

“Don’t you dare use the air quotes, Primrose!” Clearly, her sister had been reading those ‘romantic’ novels again. “Nothing happened, Prim.” She was directing that statement at everyone, though. “Peeta gave me some dry clothes to wear, a warm drink; we talked a little, and that was it.”

There was a group head bob.

“And…well, he invited me to breakfast.”

Katniss ignored her sister’s exclamation that she was going on a date and stormed up the stairs to her room, well, the room she was using. While trying to decide what to wear on her not-a-date, she considered the whole thing…

Was this worth so much harassment? Katniss wasn’t sure, but she liked Peeta Mellark. She liked him a lot. As a matter of fact, if these were more normal circumstances…if she wasn’t in a foreign country, if she hadn’t known this guy for no more than two hours, and most importantly, if she was a completely different girl, she might say there was a chance she could be falling for Peeta…

But no, it wasn’t possible. Not her. Not so soon. Not ever, really. Katniss Everdeen refused to fall in love or get married. She’d long since decided it wasn’t for her, that she would never go through what her mother did. She rejected the notion, altogether, of letting herself feel so much for another person that she would practically stop living if she lost them.

But the feeling Peeta gave her today, it made her almost…hopeful. It made her wonder how good it could be… Still, she refused to succumb to it. She would go to breakfast with the Canadian boy across the lake; she would enjoy her time with him, and then she’d tuck the nice memory away for safekeeping. That would be the end of it.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #mandelion82 #submission #prompt

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