#for the record this is how i felt on christmas eve TEN YEARS AGO when bbc's merlin ended | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caxsthetic · 4 years

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Never Fine

Miya Osamu x F!Reader

Hurtful Truth: You would never know what you had until you lose them. And once you lost them for good — you could never have them back.

Pt. 3 ⇚ Epilogue ⇛ Suna’s

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. GRAND MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You looked radiant, under the bright blue sky as the sun peeked in between the leaves. The smile that adorned your face was one that could make him feel so complete. As if by just having you smile at him, he knew he could take on everything that this world threw in his direction.

"Samu, why did you look so sad?" Your fingers grazed the back of his hand, so delicate. "Something bothering you, love?" Your sharp orbs eyed him with concern. And those looks always made him feel so vulnerable.

It never changed — how your eyes glimmered every time it fell on his figure. The way those warm pupils fell on his face was nothing but warm. Even before he dared to ask you out, even before he slid an engagement ring on your finger, and even after he captured lips that belonged to someone else,

You always had the same loving, gentle gaze.

"It hurts." He choked out, one hand gripping on the bouquet of your favourite flower. "To see you go, it hurts, (Y/n)." His eyes bore into yours, and the way you didn't even look at him with rage like everyone else, was the thing that finally broke him into million little pieces.

"But, Samu." You called out, pulling your hand away that was touching his skin before, making him feel the cold air of December since he left his gloves at home. Your eyes were still the same as it was before, but there was something else lingering there. "You hurt me first."

It was so unreal, to hear your voice whisper in his ear. You felt so close to him as the two of you met each other's eyes. He could hear your words at the back of his mind, and he could feel your touch that always secured his for the last ten years of his life.

Your existence stayed in every fibre of his body, never once left even after he tried to leave you for good. And now, now when you were the one who said the last goodbye — he really wished that he could see you for one last time.

Not just in the framed photograph that would be withered by time.

Crash!

Everyone immediately turned their head in his direction as he dropped the glass of champagne to the ground. One second he was bantering with some old friends, spreading happiness as his lips curled into a smile — and the other second he felt like someone just knocked the air out of his lungs, making his grip on the glass become loose.

The venue was so packed, and the way he could feel dozens of eyes staring at him made the suffocating feelings intensify. His pupils darted to the left and right as he needed to get away from there. He wanted to reach out for his twin brother, he needed the blonde to be there with him.

But the palm that touched his back right now, was so unfamiliar.

"What?!" He shouted and turned his head, meeting a pair of green orbs that had a glimpse of shock inside it. Osamu swallowed a huge lump when he realised he just raised his voice at someone that he was supposed to spend his life with. "S-Sorry, Rin."

The brunette let out a sigh, because he knew that his life thereafter would never be easy. The two of them knew anyway that no matter how much in love they were for each other, no matter how many years went by — the thought of you would always be there, haunting every step that they took.

"If you need some space, the balcony near our parent's table is empty."

His words were enough as Osamu immediately had his face facing the ground, ignoring all the questionable gazes that were being thrown towards him and strode towards the said place.

Rintarou could see the stress inside the greyish orbs, the look that he always saw every now and then from the beginning of their relationship. It was always there every morning the black-haired man woke up next to him. The horror, the guilt, the disgust. It was mixed into one — the look that his fiancé wanted to set for oneself.

As one of the grooms exited the room, he needed to be the one that made sure all the guests still enjoyed the rest of the night. He too, felt nausea for a second ago. But he shrugged it off as he wanted to be selfish for today. Just for today, he wanted to boast to himself that he would hold the name Miya as his last name.

You stole it.

He put all of his own guilt that kept eating him alive as he greeted some of his friends at the back of his head.

You stole him from me, Rinrin.

Grabbing a glass of champagne, he listened in to the conversation, focusing his mind to whatever unfolded in front of his eyes.

How could you do that to me?

But none of the words that slipped from the lips of his friends could penetrate his hearing. He closed his eyes, trying so hard not to let you dominate his mind. Though it was no use, he knew that it was no use. After all, every time he turned his head he could feel your stare at him, the illusion of you that his own mind created.

You were his sister, the angel inside Suna's household. Ever since he was still a little boy, it always felt like you were the older sibling instead of him. You always gave him more chuupet, always made sure that he finished all of his homework, always supporting and pulling his figure into your embrace when he looked tired.

All your life, you gave everything to him. You never asked for anything as you just wanted to make sure that he got the best treatment and had the best life. Since forever, you never demanded anything from him or the world. Then you met the twins, that was the first time you ever asked for something.

"I love him, Rin."

Miya Osamu was probably the only thing in this world that you ever wanted.

"Even more than myself."

Yet he was being greedy, and he took him from you without thinking twice once he had the chance.

He was knocked back to reality when he heard someone screamed. The atmosphere was so serene before, but the music and everything stopped the second a familiar cry could be heard throughout the venue. His heart thumped so fast as he scanned the whole area. He knew who it was, he knew whose voice it belonged to.

Rintarou ran towards his parent's table, and everyone immediately parted so he could be there faster. When his feet finally brought him in front of his mother — the one who just let out a scream of agony — he tried to understand what was happening in front of him.

His father cradled the weeping woman, her hand that adorned with some fine lines was now gripping tight on the suit that her husband wore. He wanted to ask what happened, why his mother that almost never showed any pain was now wailing like she just lost someone important. He wanted to know why Osamu's parents averted his gaze, he wanted to—

A vibrate from his pocket halted his thought. He was sure he kept his phone on silent mode today, except for some friends of his. And he knew too well who was on the list; Osamu, Kita, Komori, his parents, and Atsumu.

Atsumu. The name kept flickered on the screen, and he was hesitant to pick up the call. He was afraid, afraid because he knew how much the blonde setter despised his existence. He could see how his brother-in-law wanted nothing to do with him, so he wondered why would he ruin his day even more by answering it?

But he couldn't stop himself from sliding his finger on the screen and placed the phone next to his ear.

"I hope you and that disgusting scrub burn in hell."

Cheating is a taboo relationship that was made by two people who agreed to get into it, and Osamu understood that what he had with the professional volleyball player could never end up well. Yet he did it anyway, for six months behind your back, and continued the relationship even when he knew that it needed to be stopped.

He did all of that, with another person that he knew was important in your life. Your very own brother — Suna Rintarou.

That time when his twin left him a message in the middle of the wedding, he was so ecstatic. Osamu didn't need his brother to always be there, he was okay in case that the setter missed his wedding. After all, Atsumu valued the friendship that he had with you. So he knew not to expect too much.

But he could still feel the pain that rushed through his blood the second he opened up his phone. He could feel his heart stopped beating for a second there when he read the same text on and on as he wanted to believe that it was just a harmless prank. Though he knew he was just trying to comfort himself.

Last year, in the middle of December, he remembered how you dragged him out to buy some ingredients for Christmas eve. You were in a rush because you said that there was a big sale going on for the fresh ingredients on the market.

He knew all the details, which every second unfolded as you pulled his hand after he was done wearing his coat. You keep rambling, about how many people that the two of you should invite, about from which continent the food that should be made. Every syllable, every line of your face, he replayed everything inside his mind like a broken record.

"Baby!" You screamed out in shock when your eyes darted to his naked hand. "It's winter, why didn't you wear your gloves?!" Your hand immediately engulfed his, lifting it up and letting his palm touch your cheek. "Goodness, Samu. You are freezing."

He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle from how adorable you looked as your face moulded to worry. And right now, he really wondered if you knew what you did to his heart for being such a caring lover since high school — and never once changed.

"I am fine, I am fine." He tried to reassure you by pinching both of your cheeks, making you yelp before a pout appeared on the next second. "I have you, (Y/n)." His voice was low, but loud enough for you to catch it. "And having you was enough, because it already made me feel warm in my heart and soul."

The sentence may have sounded cheeky, like a blatant lie. But at that moment, when the two of you gazed into each other's eyes, everything that was being said was filled with honesty. Your eyes softened, and the way you leaned your face into his palm, made him forget about the coldness that started to numb his fingertips.

"You are stuck with me, you know that, love?" You whispered, kissing each digit as if you tried to transfer the warmth that you had to him. "Every winter, autumn, summer, and fall. Right now and another year to come, I will always be there to accompany you, Samu."

The two of you were trapped in your own world, forgetting the fact that you and him were out in the street with an extreme temperature. You were starstruck — he was too. And there was nothing else that both of you needed, except each other.

"And I can't be more happy to be stuck with someone."

Osamu lost the warmth that had been following him for the past ten years of his life. The second he walked to your brother's apartment and captured that lip, those first few moments started the countdown of the lovely relationship that he shared with you.

He didn't know why he decided that it was alright to cheat on you. You have been nothing but good, nothing but an understanding partner in life. When he told you that it would be hard to live with him as he wanted to start up a business, he thought that maybe you would leave.

But instead of turning your back to him, you engulfed his hand, grazing your lips to his cheek as you whispered all the sweet truths and reassurances. You were not going anywhere. You would be there right beside him, through every failure and hardship.

"Because with you I feel complete." And you proved that to him. "Since I can't imagine myself breathing in this world without you." Yet he was the one — who took that air away from you.

His grey orbs fell on the fresh tombstone that was now covered in snow. Gently, he took some steps forward and knelt in front of it. Setting the flower bouquet down as his hand swept the memorial to read what was written underneath the white blanket.

He didn't have the courage to be here before, to stand here with all of the people that loved and adored you. There were lots of people, all wearing black as hot tears cascaded down their cheeks. Your parents lost a big chunk of their hearts, your coworkers and best friends lost their shoulder to lean on.

And him? He didn't deserve to feel anything since he was the reason you were now lying six feet under.

His breath hitched, hands gripping tight on the tombstone that marked the spot of your final resting place. The emptiness inside his heart, the numbness pounding his brain, the salty tears that flowed from his eyes, the sheer nothingness that now took hold of his soul — threatened to engulf him entirely as he read every word that was carved on the hard surface.

"I will sleep in peace, until you come and wake me up."

It was as if he could hear you whisper in between the cold wind, as if you were there with him.

"Since I shall but love you better, even after death do us part."

With both of your arms wrapped around his torso, to make sure that he would never feel the cold.

He never got to tell you that he loved you one last time. He didn't get to hold you close before you slipped away forever. He never even got to look into your loving, beautiful face which always brought him so much happiness, before you slept for all eternity.

He hadn't been given a chance to tell you —

"It was all a mistake." He whispered, wishing that you heard him. "I love you." Wishing that you could hear the sincerity in his voice right now. "I am sorry. Dear God, I am sorry."

But you were gone, and there was nothing left of you except the framed photograph, staring back into his soul. "For I haven't been the man I promised to be."

You had been his anchor when he started to drift away from his path. You had been there for him through everything, you were always there to make sure that everything went as it was planned. And you were there as his safe haven, the place he would come back to when he sought for love and comfort.

He reminisced the brightness and gentle look of your orbs; the details of your face, he wanted to make sure it would never be gone, like you. And in all of his despair, he pressed his forehead against the cold stone, as close as he could get to you.

"Why are you here?"

Osamu clenched his hand even tighter since he could recognize the voice anywhere. He had lived with the same voice all of his life, one that no matter how many weeks or months didn't see each other, he would always know whose voice it belonged to. "Hey, scrub. I am asking you. Are you deaf or something?"

He took a deep breath, trying so hard not to turn his emotion into rage. You were here, and he didn't want to lose control in front of you.

"I am here to pay a visit." He answered clear and short, standing up and dusting the snow off from his clothes before facing his new company. "I can leave if you want to, Atsumu."

"Oh, so considerate." There was a mocking tone lingering in his voice, yet he shook it off. "Then go away, shoo." The blonde setter ushered him away, with the same rage and disgust visible inside the brown orbs. "A killer isn't supposed to care for their victim."

Osamu had just walked past his twin when the last sentence was thrown, making him halt as he felt wrath bubbling inside his heart. He wanted to scream at the setter, tackle him to the snowy ground as he yelled out that he didn't mean to, that he regretted everything that he had done.

But as he thought of it, that was him right now wasn't he? A killer.

He didn't know why he stayed there, as if he needed to feel the closeness with two important people in his life. Even though it was just physical, he needed it, because God knows when he could bathe himself with both presence — even though one of them was not really here.

"Heard you broke everything off with Sunarin. Guess you could never face their parents, huh?" He was wrecked, torn apart by each word that was being said. "How does it feel, hm? To be the main reason behind someone's death? Thrilling?" Yet he listened to it all, didn't even move an inch from his place.

"I am sorry." He let the words slip. Words he failed to say to you. "I have learned my lesson." So desperate that his voice cracked. "Can I — make it up to you...?"

The low chuckle was enough to be considered as an answer to his question. And with that, he knew that there was no use. That no matter what, he was all alone now. Without a loyal lover to turn to, without a brother to lean on.

"Bring her back to life."

"What?"

"I said it loud and clear." They both turn to each other, meeting the gaze that is filled with one emotion. "Bring. Her. Back. To. Life." Anguish, nothing more than just bitterness and desperation of your existence.

He wanted that too, to hear your voice once again. He wouldn't mind if you pushed him away, he wouldn't mind hearing you curse at him and throw insults at him — he was okay with that, as long as you breathe air and live on.

"Can't do that, right?" The blonde setter chuckled bitterly, shaking his head as if he knew he shouldn't have hope anymore. "Though, I know something that I wanted you to do. This one, I think you can do this."

"What is it?"

"Stop coming to my games." Of course, that was what he wanted. "Want ya to pull off Onigiri Miya from any of the matches that I play." He should have been prepared for such requests. "Cause I want nothing to do with you."

The rage that dripped on every word before, was now replaced with a solemn intonation. Miya Atsumu was tired, tired and stressed because he knew he could never have a relationship with his twin like how everything used to be. "You can do that, right?"

Silence.

"Of course."

There was nothing else that needed to be said, and the two of them understood that well.

Osamu stared at his twin brother as memories replayed at the back of his mind. He brought this upon himself when he decided to betray you, he brought this upon himself when he decided to be a cheater and leave you in the dust without no one else to turn to.

His grey orbs eyed his twin brother who was now kneeling in front of you. The blonde setter dropped a bouquet of baby's breath flowers, kissing the tombstone as he whispered some words under his breath. And because it was so quiet, he could hear every single word that was being said.

"I will always be here, (Y/n)." The voice he used was so soft. "Wait for me, okay?" The voice that he never once used with anyone else. "I love you."

Why?

Why didn't he realise this before?

Why did he never realise that his twin brother loves you the same way as he does?

His mind couldn't function anymore as his pupils widened at the fact. His body was still as if he were bewitched to be rooted at the spot. Even as Atsumu walked past him and ready to leave, he was still there. Too shocked to even register the newly found information into his head.

Now he knew the reason why the blonde setter never wanted to settle down. Now he knew why his twin brother always avoided the topic of love. Now he knew why every time they talked about you, there was always this mysterious look inside those brown eyes that he could not fathom.

And now he knew why Miya Atsumu, the other half of his soul, wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

Because he had taken away not just his own love, but also the love that the blonde setter was supposed to have.

"Hope you can survive the rest of your life, Osamu." The older twin brother turned his face to see the exact copy of him. Someone that he used to trust, someone that he used to love more than himself. "Knowing that you were the main reason our life went like this."

It felt like there was something that clogged his throat at that exact moment. He wanted to call out his twin brother, he wanted to say that he was sorry, that he regretted everything he had done for the last few months.

He wanted to say that he was sorry, for taking away the love of his life too.

Yet he kept his mouth shut as his eyes could only stare at the fleeting figure that started to get smaller, out of his reach. Osamu let the other half of his soul slip between his fingers, just like how he let half of his heart go.

And the two of them — would never come back to his life, no matter how much he wanted them to.

Tagged Lovelies:

@muffins-puffins @quirksandbreaths @vlovers-world @blacckdiamondposts @atsunflower @hihiq @the-fandom-ness @murasakibaraa @verbluehte @simp4tsukkii @ladyalicevii @evermorehaikyuu @clowninfortodoroki @koutaroulovebot @fitriiaw @mistypoison @aquariarose @greenleaf-fantasy @t-amajiki @kuraomi @haikyuuwithadashofart @starbybokuto @shiningstar-byulxx @nerdyphantomlady @raequii @akasuns @sugawsites @macaronnv @spicyfoodboi + @yoitsseulgi @hhwanggu

#miya osamu x reader #miya osamu imagine #miya osamu scenario #haikyuu miya osamu #miya osamu #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu angst #a droplet of #miya atsumu x reader

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sunshinejihyun · 3 years

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Perfectly Imperfect Christmas - Kiro

Author’s note: I wrote this for my dear, dear friend @dreamer-hyun for the Loveland Cutie’s secret Santa event! Merry Christmas, Val. I know this doesn't even come close to the gift of friendship you’ve given me this year but I hope it’s a start!

Also, a big big thank you to @beautiful-mystic-mess for organizing this wonderful event

Word Count: 3412

Warnings: One sexual innuendo, a lot of tooth rotting fluff, and some general shenanigans from the main four

Summary: On Christmas Eve, Kiro and MC reminisce about their past Christmases spent together and wonder what it means for the rest of their future

Masterlist

“Are there any more presents?” Your son clapped his hands and looked eagerly at you and Kiro, a cheesy grin that mirrored his father’s was etched on his face. His sister next to him sat sleepily, her head bobbing up and down as she tried to keep herself awake.

Looking under the tree, you sighed out and shook your head. “I think that’s it for tonight, kiddos. You gotta get to sleep or else Santa won’t come!” With the mention of the big guy, your son immediately bolted up, jumping into Kiro’s lap.

“Daddy! Can you tuck me and Edie in so Santa will come?” Kiro laughed as he ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, the dark hair completely opposite of his father’s. Eurydice - nicknamed Edie - was the one with the blond hair, much like Kiro’s.

Kiro picked up Peter as you grabbed Edie, nuzzling your nose against her cheek as she leaned her head on your shoulder. For a two year old, the excitement of Christmas had worn her out and even though she tried to keep up with Peter’s energy, Edie was crashing quickly.

Putting her in her toddler bed, she immediately curled in on herself and shut her eyes, her breathing evening out shortly after. Peter climbed in his own bed and pulled his covers up to his chin, his bright blue eyes full of excitement. You knew that look, his father had given it to you many times before.

“Can you tell me a story daddy?” Kiro’s hand soothed over Peter’s forehead and the young boy leaned his head into his pillow and sighed contentedly.

“Hmm… What type of story would you like to hear?” Kiro asked, moving to sit down on the edge of the bed. You sat down next to him and he smiled warmly at you before taking your hand in his own.

“Something Christmas!” He whisper-yelled. Even high off the excitement of Christmas, Peter was careful not to wake his baby sister.

Kiro then glanced playfully over at you and your stomach flipped. Even after 12 years together, he could put your stomach in knots with just one look. “I have a good Christmas story.” His eyes never left yours and the way he was looking at you was so intimate that you couldn’t help the fact that your cheeks flushed red. “It’s about the first Christmas Mommy and I spent together.”

“Really? That must have been so long ago! Like a hundred and ten years!” You giggled at Peter as he grabbed Kiro’s hand and hugged it to him. Ever since he was younger than Edie he had fallen asleep cuddling his daddy’s hand. Even going on eight years old he still did it every night and Kiro was all too happy to oblige.

“Once upon a time, a hundred and ten years ago, Mommy and Daddy had planned on celebrating Christmas together. It was before we got married, and Mommy didn’t even know I loved her back then! But, Savin had called me and told me I had to work on Christmas--”

“Savin’s always ruining our fun!” Peter interjected, opening one eye to gauge both yours and Kiro’s reactions.

“Peter, hush! Let Daddy tell the story!” You covered up your laugh with your hand as you told him as much.

“Anyways, Savin told me I had to work on Christmas! And I was so sad because I had this whole elaborate Christmas present set up for Mommy and I couldn’t give it to her since I had to go to the studio.” Kiro smiled down adoringly at Peter as he snuggled into his hand more. “So even though I couldn’t give her the gift the way I wanted, I still planned out a way to have her get it.”

You leaned your head on Kiro’s shoulder, smiling at the memories as you continued the story. “Daddy sent me on a huge scavenger hunt, all over Loveland City and at each spot was another little present wrapped for me. There was a new scarf, since I had lost my old one when I was out with Daddy one time, there was some hot chocolate mix with marshmallows that he had promised we would make together sometime, and the final destination was the recording studio. I showed up and was so nervous! Savin was so mad at me for interrupting!”

“You were nervous? I could never tell, you just marched in there like you owned the place! Meanwhile, I was in the recording booth sweating buckets!” You thought back to that night, where you found a tired and overworked Kiro sat on a stool and crooning his newest song into the mic. His hair was sticky and wet against his forehead and he looked exhausted, but as soon as you walked in, his face lit up and that smile that made your insides gooey settled on his face.

“You really were! I remember seeing you and thinking you had just showered!” You laughed, nudging his side and making Kiro squeal before you covered his mouth with your hand and peered over at Edie, grateful that she slept through the noise.

Kiro turned to Peter, ready to tell the next part but instead found Peter fast asleep, his previous iron tight grip on Kiro’s hand now loose enough that Kiro could easily wriggle out of his hold. Silently standing up, Kiro stretched out his hand and you took it. He pulled you up and into his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. “I love you, thank you.”

Pulling your head away from resting on his heart, you looked up at him quizzically. “Whatever are you thanking me for?”

“For giving me a home, a family. I’ve never felt like I had any of that before I met you.” Kiro brushed his lips against your forehead. “You gave me a safe place to be completely myself, and two wonderful children and I will forever be indebted to you.”

“Then I must thank you for the exact same reason.” You replied, raising up on your tippy toes. Just as you were about to press your lips to Kiro’s, Peter shifted in his sleep and you paused, putting your hand to Kiro’s lips instead. “We should get out of here.” You whispered and without responding, Kiro grabbed your hand and pulled you out of Peter and Edie’s shared room.

You quietly closed the door and once you turned around, Kiro pressed you against the wall, his lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss. “Happy anniversary.”

Smiling against his lips before pressing another lingering kiss, you responded. “Happy anniversary I love you.”

Kiro released his hold on your hips to cradle your face in his hands, like you were fine china and if he held you too tightly you’d break. He used to hold you as tight as he could, almost afraid if he didn’t keep his hold that you’d vanish from his grip. Now, after years of holding you tightly, he still held you with as much love and affection, he just wasn’t afraid you’d disappear anymore.

“I love you more than I can even express.” Kiro said sincerely, each word broken up by a kiss pressed to your forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, and eventually your lips. “I could stay here forever, or even take you into our bedroom and show you just how much I love you, but we’ve got to play Santa for a little bit.”

You released your grip on Kiro and he dropped his hands, his cerulean eyes still light with the boyish excitement that you came to love when you first met him. “You go on and grab the gifts, I’ll go down and start on the milk and cookies!”

“You better save some for me, Miss Chips! Or else you’ll have to face the wrath of the tickle monster!” Kiro’s long fingers prodded your side, as if to prove his point, and you squirmed out of his reach, ready to bolt down the stairs.

“Better be quick then!” You teased and Kiro saluted you before turning and quickly making his way to your shared bedroom, where all the other gifts were stowed away.

You made your way down the steps and over to the beat up coffee table that had a glass of milk with a plate of two cookies sitting in the center. You picked up the gingerbread man with pink clothes, the one you and Edie had decorated together, and broke off it’s arm, popping the delicious treat in your mouth.

“Nooo! Don’t eat me!” Kiro’s voice, raised an octave and a half, called out softly behind you and you turned to face him, trying to hide your smile as you giggled. “Was I at least delicious?” He asked in the same voice and this time you did laugh out loud. Kiro’s whole face lit up into a gorgeous smile as he heard your laugh.

“Very,” you replied before setting down your cookie. Pressing a kiss to Kiro’s cheek, you stood up and grabbed some of the presents he was juggling in his hands, arranging them nicely around the tree. As Kiro knelt on the other side of the tree, you took the time to study him.

After retiring from his career as an idol, Kiro had put on a few pounds because of his love for sweets. His hair had grown out a bit as well, but every time you looked at him, all you could see was the 22 year old you fell in love with. His boyish charm, his cheekiness, and his vulnerabilities. That’s what made him the man you loved and those things would never change even if his physical appearance might have.

“Can I ask you something?” Kiro’s hand faltered as you said that and he pulled his hand back from trying to rearrange the presents under the tree. He nodded for you to continue. “On Christmas Eve, all those years ago, did you ever think things would end up like this?”

Kiro motioned for you to come closer to him and you crawled over before settling yourself on his lap. “Honestly, I hoped it would. We’d been friends for so long and I fell so in love with you in that time. But also knew that you had 3 other guys completely head over heels for you and… they could all give you a lot more than I could have back then. But, it didn’t stop me from daydreaming about what being with you would be like. There was a time where you consumed my thoughts, day and night.” He kissed your temple, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist. “What about you?”

“I was dying to tell you just how I felt, how in love with you I was. My plan was to tell you that night when I walked into the recording studio, you just beat me to it.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me that part before.” Kiro reached over and grabbed a blanket that was sitting on the couch and pulled it over the two of you, cocooning you in the heat. “No matter what we thought would happen back then, I’m glad life’s ended up this way.”

You hummed in agreement, leaning back against Kiro and taking in that green apple scent that’s become so comforting to you, you both sat in the peace and quiet, watching the light snowfall sprinkle down over Loveland City.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Kiro’s hands rubbed up and down your sides, pulling you from your slumber-like state. “I have a present for you, if you want it?”

“Did I fall asleep?” You stretched out, starting to get off Kiro’s lap. His arms tightened around you. “Isn’t your lap numb by now?”

“I’ll take a numb lap with you in it any day over a normal lap without you in my arms.” Kiro reached over and grabbed a small box under the tree. “Anyways, present?”

He offered the small box to you and you took it, raising your eyebrow at Kiro before lifting the lid off the box. Inside was a gorgeous charm bracelet, adorned with a microphone, teddy bear, sunflower, baby bottle, and space to add on more later on. “Kiro…”

“I was going to give this to you 12 years ago, but I chickened out. So, I added on the baby bottle this year to signify our two little monsters sleeping upstairs. Every year from now on, I want to get you a new charm until the whole thing is filled.” Kiro spoke as he unclasped the bracelet and secured it around your wrist. His baby blue eyes met yours, so full of love and honesty in that moment. “Do you like it?”

“Kiro… I love it. Each charm means so much to me. I still remember that day we ran around Loveland City, you in a bear costume. I remember thinking that if I could do that with you forever, I’d be the happiest girl alive!”

“Or the day we laid in the sunflower field and watched the clouds for hours! When you fell asleep, I could only think about seeing your sleeping face next to me forever.”

“Looks like we both got our wish.” You leaned over and kissed him and then gestured to the big box next to him. “Okay, open mine!”

Kiro’s impish grin sent the butterflies into a whirlwind in your stomach. He tore at the wrapping paper, much like how Peter and Edie had done a bit earlier. Once he had uncovered the box, Kiro’s mouth dropped open and he stopped to look at you. “You didn’t!”

“I did!” You exclaimed. “I wasn’t sure which games you’d like, but I’ll buy you a few for Christmas if you pick out which ones you want.”

Kiro set the new gaming system aside and hugged you tightly, his bright blond hair brushing against your cheeks which in turn made you giggle. “I love you so much! Thank you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome. Now, we should be getting to bed soon. Tomorrow will be a busy day and Edie and Peter will be up before the sun’s even out.” Kiro in turn held out his hand to you and led you to your shared bedroom. Collapsing on the bed, both of you were asleep before you could even say your goodnights.

“Mommy!” Peter bounded into your room, jumping on top of your bed. You heard an ‘oof’ from Kiro next to you. “Santa came!”

“Oh, did he?” You asked, rubbing your eyes. “We have to go check and see what he brought you. How about you and Daddy head down and I’ll grab Edie.” Peter agreed, poking at his father’s cheek and you laughed at the whine that came from Kiro.

When you had reached the bedroom, Edie was sitting up in her bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Santa come?”

“Yes hun, Santa came last night! We have to go see what he brought you!” Edie clung to your neck and sighed out. “Uncle Victor, Uncle Gavin, and Uncle Lucien are coming over later. They’re bringing you presents too!”

“Uncle Gav Gav?” Edie immediately perked up. Ever since she was aware of her surroundings, she had favored Gavin greatly. He always accepted her relentless love with open arms too.

You carried her down the stairs where you already found Peter sitting in the middle of a pile of wrapping paper, some new toy cars surrounding him as well as a new Nintendo Switch. He’d been asking for one for a while now and you and Kiro had agreed that he’d been exceptionally good this year and deserved it. “Mommy, look what Santa brought!”

“Wow Peter! Look at that! You and Daddy will have to set it up later!” You raised your eyebrow at Kiro and he nodded in agreement. “Edie! Look, you’ve got two presents from Santa!”

Edie squealed in delight and you set her down and watched her toddle over to her first box. Peter helped her unwrap it and she gasped when she saw what was inside. “Baby!”

“Yes! You got a little babydoll!” Kiro cooed, picking her up and kissing her on the cheek. As she moved to open the other one, there was a knock on the front door. You got up to open it, brushing a hand over Peter’s head as you passed him. When you reached the door and opened it, your mouth dropped.

Standing in front of you was Victor, fully dressed in a Santa suit with an obscene amount of presents in a huge bag hung over his shoulder. “Victor… you’re here early.”

“I knew the kids were going to be up as early as they could and I wanted to be the first one to get here so they knew I was the best uncle.” You laughed and opened the door for Victor to come in and as soon as he stomped the snow off his boots, he was bombarded by Peter yelling his name and attacking him in a hug. “Hi there bud, I brought presents!”

“You’re the best, Uncle Victor! Thank you!” Peter said, stroking the velvety fabric of Victor’s Santa suit. “Why are you dressed as Santa? He already came last night.”

“I thought it’d be fun!” Victor smirked at the young boy, ruffling his dark hair. “Do you not like it?”

“It’s a little weird…. But you brought presents so it’s okay!” Peter took hold of Victor’s hand and led him to the living room. You followed the pair and sat down next to Kiro on the couch. His arm went around your shoulders and your head fell against his. As you watched Victor spoil your children rotten, you found yourself drifting off, exhausted from all the Christmas craziness.

You awoke later when Gavin and Lucien let themselves in. Edie was in Kiro’s lap, snacking on some string cheese and Peter was on the floor in front of the TV playing with the Switch that Kiro or Victor must have helped set up.

“I told you not to dress in a Santa suit.” Lucien said to Gavin, gesturing at Victor. “Now you just look dumb.”

“Oh yeah,” you joked. “It’s because he’s matching with Victor that he looks dumb, not because he’s wearing a Santa suit.”

“Joke all you want!” Gavin grumbled. “I’m not the one who screamed like a girl on the back of a motorcycle today.”

You looked at Lucien, one eyebrow raised in a question. “In my defense, I thought as a police officer, you were supposed to follow the speed limit laws. My mistake though, since we went 80 in a 30 miles per hour zone.”

“Well I had to get here in record time to see my sweet little girl.” Edie had been making grabby hands at Gavin since he walked in and since then has resorted to screaming his name over and over again. “Isn’t that right, pumpkin?” Gavin picked her up out of Kiro’s lap and walked her to the tree, talking about all the different types of ornaments hung on it.

As Gavin entertained Edie, Lucien made his way to Peter and sat down. “What are you playing?”

“Santa brought me this! I’m playing Smash Bros. Do you want to play?” Peter offered the second remote to Lucien and you smiled as he calmly explained all the controls and how to play the game.

“You look happy,” Victor noted as he sat on the couch next to you. He shrugged off the velvet jacket he was wearing and revealed the plain white tee underneath.

“I was just thinking about how much I love this little family, despite how dysfunctional it may be.” You responded, pulling your eyes away from your son and Lucien to watch Gavin with Edie. “It’s not perfect, but it’s perfectly ours.”

Kiro gripped your hand as you said that and you turned your head to look at Victor. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

Everyone responded in kind and you sat back into the couch, snuggling into Kiro’s side. You touched the bear charm on your new bracelet and smiled to yourself before returning back to watching Lucien and Gavin with your children.

Your Christmas wasn’t a normal family Christmas, but nothing about your life had been completely normal. All that mattered on this day was that you were with the people you loved the most, and that was worth more than anything you could ask for.

#Kiro #mlqc kiro #kiro fanfic #mr love queen's choice kiro #kiro mldd #kiro x mc #mlqc kiro x mc #mlqc fanfic #love and producer #love and producer fanfic #love and producer kiro #mldd fanfic

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter thirty-six: pink orange red

“he draws his horses; pretend your anger, and draws his horses, being chosen also.” -”pink orange red”, cocteau twins

On a cold morning in the middle of November, Sam rolled over onto her side and strove to fall back asleep. The memory of standing out in the rain and mourning over Cliff still hung fresh in her memory. This was the third morning this week that she had woken up early because she swore she still felt him next to her. She still felt his memory within her arm's reach, right there, nestled right next to her in the safety of her bed.

She opened her eyes and lay her hand on the spot of the mattress next to her, even though there was no way someone of his stature would lay there next to her. He was right there. He was right next to her. And yet he couldn't feel her again. She couldn't feel him again. She woke up alone for the umpteenth time and she had no idea as to how to rectify it.

Anthrax had already left for Europe with Metal Church, and she had to look over the schedule again to find that Metallica had gone off out west for a little bit before they were whisked across the Pacific. Even though he promised her that she could call him at any given time as she so wished, she had no idea how to get in touch with Joey. It was a cold, blustery day there in New York City, and albeit the weekend right before Thanksgiving: she could go back out West to visit her parents, but that would only mean a couple of days there in Reno before she had to fly on back that Sunday.

Even though it was only for another week and a half before they came back to North America and played there in Poughkeepsie and New York City with the Cherry Suicides, it could not feel more of like an eternity. Those next ten days stretched into the form of ten years without having her friends there.

She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the gray ceiling. She had everything and then with a flick of a wrist, she was back to square one. Back in bed in her own home. It would be four days alone for all she knew, unless Aurora and Marla weren't doing anything then. Four days alone and yet she wondered about the slight wish she had cast for herself. Some time alone to think about everything; some time to herself and no one else.

Indeed, as she thought more about it, she realized she hadn't had much time to herself until after she returned home from school or anywhere else, and even then it was only for a brief time. Four days alone and she could make it work for herself.

Sam sighed through her nose and lay her arms upon the top of the blanket. The question then was what to do in those four days.

All the art she had made up to that point was for someone else, be it Frank and Charlie or for a class. She very rarely cracked into her own private journal for herself. All buried under the weight of class and the very friendships she wished for and held dearly.

Four days alone and she could do it with that journal.

It felt as though she hadn't ridden in a car for a thousand years, even though she and Joey drove to Oswego together. If nothing, she could take the bus to the upstate area. But on the other hand, she wouldn't have her tour guide with her. She could wander about somewhere upstate, but then came the whole deal of taking a bus there in the first place. There was so much to do and yet so much she couldn't do.

Four days alone and there was so much to do between now and then.

She glanced down at her waist: she had lost a little weight in that she didn't seem so round with the blankets wrapped around her, but she also wished for Cliff's touch. She had cried all of her tears for him and yet she still wished for his presence. She wished for a presence. Someone to touch her, to understand her, to be the best friend that he never could be.

She knew the sun was about to come up within mere seconds: a brand new day and a brand new week, and one for herself no less. Nothing better to do than to make herself a cup of brew and go out walking before the snows came in.

Aurora had given her a string of dates to clock in and she knew that had to have been her last day before the Thanksgiving break. At least it was a mere part of the day rather than the whole thing. She would relish in every moment alone.

And yet she couldn't help but wonder about her parents. So far away from home and yet she knew she had to be there in New York. Her one true home. Her parents fought for her, every step of the way because she knew she would blossom on the East Coast. But every blossom wilted and withered and fell from the trees by the time the summer rolled around, and they were long gone come the winter time. She began to wonder about Christmas break with her parents: Chrismas break and without a man by her side.

Add to this, she also couldn't believe how easy it was for her to get into school, in that she barely made a waitlist of any sort. As far as she knew, even Marla and Belinda had been waitlisted before they were accepted in themselves. It almost felt too easy to get into that school. In fact, she closed her eyes again and thought back to those first few weeks when she submitted her things to her counselor Bill, and she started to wonder about him, and if he had a hand in other things, not just the admissions office. So many questions and yet so little time to ruminate over it all.

Sam opened her eyes and she gazed up at the ceiling once again, that time when the first glimmers of gray sunlighht appeared up above her. Today was a work day: she had to get up at some point. Get up, get dressed, and tuck her journal under her coat if in the off chance of her having a moment alone that day.

She took her cup of coffee with her on the subway ride down to the building itself, and all the while she wore that black hat Cliff had given her. She paired it with her long black winter coat and heavy black leather boots. If it snowed, she would stand out anywhere in New York: as black as the East River at night during a hefty rain.

She emerged from the cold subway station with the cup of coffee still in hand and her purse over her shoulder, and protected by the heavy and warm safety of her coat. The rain was upon her, if not the snow. With her free hand, she held onto the crown of her hat as she hurried up the sidewalk. Aurora's car was nowhere to be seen.

“Don't tell me I'm opening today,” she said aloud and out of breath.

A break in the clouds and she was met with a sliver of sunlight as she reached the front door. She pushed it open as if someone had already been there, and she recognized Eric's long fine black hair on the other side of the front room.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

“Hey,” he retorted; right next to him was Greg.

“Hey, girlie,” he followed up.

“Wow, I wasn't expecting to see you guys here,” she declared as she closed the door behind her. “It's Sunday.”

“Aurora wanted us to come in and do some paper work,” Greg explained as he took a seat in the chair against the wall. “Although to be fair we weren't expecting to see you here, either. Given it's Sunday and whatnot.”

“And we're gonna be here for a while, too,” Eric added. “It's just the nature of things at the moment.”

“It's a work day for me—it's only part time but still.” She then stopped right in her tracks. “Wait a minute, you guys are getting ready to record, aren't you?” Eric had a twinkle in his eye and Greg nodded his head. Sam then brought the cup of coffee to her mouth for a sip against the cold.

“Just about,” Eric replied as he took his seat there next Greg, “—I'm technically the one who founded the band so if nothing else, I have to be here myself. Greg is just here so he sees that he gets his money.”

“Dyin' to get our money,” Greg said as he tilted his head back and brought his hands to his chest.

“By the way, do you guys have a manager at all?” she asked Eric. “I was thinking about that a couple of weeks ago—given I'm the first member of fan club and everything.”

“A manager? No, not yet. The Zazulas are the ones overlooking us at the moment.”

A brief silence fell over that room.

“Kind of like the counselors at school,” she noted in a soft voice, and she took another sip of coffee.

“And if it's something important like that, you'd have to balance out that with school,” Greg pointed out.

“I've done it before,” Sam assured him with a raise of her finger.

“Well, if nothing, you gotta at least sit in with us, though,” Eric insisted. “I really wanna see you and I really want you to hear what we've got on deck. Louie and Chuck do, too. I think Alex does, too—given you're Cliff's girl and everything. He's back home right now so I don't know what to say about him.”

“I mean, she did do it with Stormtroopers,” Greg pointed out.

“I did it with Stormtroopers, yeah,” she recalled with a shrug of her shoulders, “and I'm part time with the label and assistant to Aurora, too. I could in fact sit in if you wish.”

“We go in New Year's Eve,” Eric added with a nibble of his lip. “New Year's Eve under the name 'Legacy.' I hope, anyways.”

“If I'm not there, what would happen?” she asked them.

“We'd be sad and be like 'where's our girl?' for the better part of a week,” he said with a straight face.

“Where are you guys gonna be?” she asked him.

“Pyramid Sound—out in Ithaca. We can take you out there right now if you'd like.”

“Nah, I have things to do,” she assured him, and then she snapped her fingers. “Wait a minute—I have Thanksgiving off. That's coming up here in this next week. You still gonna be here?”

Eric and Greg glanced at each other.

“We'll try,” the former vowed, “what’s your schedule like this week?”

“I have half a day Tuesday.”

“How ‘bout then?”

“Sounds good. As long as I don’t have anything important, of course.”

“We’ll get ya back home,” he vowed with a wink, and she extended her hand to him. His hand was warm and dry, but his fingers were rough from the incessant guitar playing. The door behind her swung open, and the three of them turned their attention to Aurora, who had a big grin on her face.

“What you all smiles for?” Greg asked her with a little shake of his head.

“Come on in, Marla!” she called back, and Marla stepped inside from the cold and the gray. The violet had gone and in its place was a bright neon orange at the crown of her head. But as her hair extended to her shoulders, the orange melded into a rich cherry red and bright hot pink. Every step about the floor it looked as though her hair changed colors from orange to red to pink, one right after the other as if her hair was comprised of watercolor. Sam, Eric, and Greg gaped at the sight of the hair and how it seemed to flow about.

“Wow!” Sam declared.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” said Aurora with a twinkle in her eye. “I helped out with it because it was tricky to get right, especially the red part of it.”

“I call it 'pink lemonade',” Marla added as she lifted her hair out from under her shirt collar: the pink and red near the bottom seemed to move about like waves. “I wanted to do it for the Cherry Suicides' show this upcoming week.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right! It's this week!”

“Providence and then upstate in Poughkeepsie.”

“We really gotta be here now, Greg,” Eric proclaimed right behind Sam and Aurora.

“For sure, Eric. Seeing a bunch of punk chicks with Metallica after a week of a great feast. And we owe li'l Sam here a ride out to Ithaca—”

Sam paid no attention to Greg's waxing lyrical given Marla's hair had given her some sort of awakening right before school started and then ended again for a bit. Some time alone but she knew it was going to be worth it, especially with hair like that.

She couldn't hardly focus on her work that day given she kept on thinking about her rendezvous with Eric and Greg in the next room, and also her seeing the Cherry Suicides with Metallica. How exciting it must have been for Zelda in particular. Sam was so distracted by the whole thing that she spent her entire lunch break with the journal in hand.

She thought back to Zelda and that day in her apartment when Aurora broke the news to her. They were coming home to Providence, and Sam couldn't help but laugh at it. She thought about that full bodied painting of Joey on canvas and how it was still in the back seat of his car. There was another thing she had to do: a better, more finessed rendition of Joey in the buff. But that thought led her back to Zelda.

Their name was the Cherry Suicides, and they were dark and fast but incredibly girlish at the same time, almost like black cherries. They owed so much to Wendy O. Williams and yet they moved in a whole other direction altogether.

She brought the pencil to the paper and she sketched out Zelda's head first. All the inexplicable struggle with graphite and correctly shading everything was about to pay off with her short bob of dark hair. A little oval shaped face and deep seductive eyes, and then she followed it up with her lanky drummer's body and a myriad of cherries around her. Given she only had the one pencil to work with, Sam shaded in the cherries with the side of the graphite, but it was somewhat difficult given she kept the journal close to her chest. She drew it for herself and no one else.

But she still signed her initials at the very bottom of the page.

She kept it all firmly in mind as she went off to school for the next two days, and by the middle of the day on Tuesday, she wondered if Eric and Greg knew where she lived courtesy of the label or Aurora, or if she had to walk on up there after her last class. Indeed, she stepped out of that front building and she was alone there on the sidewalk. Not a cloud in the sky but a walk nonetheless and with her hand upon the crown of her hat as well.

Sam strolled inside and there was Eric and Greg congregated around Aurora, who had the clipboard in hand once again.

“—so I'll get that squared away for you guys once you get out there to Ithaca,” she was saying, and she turned around at the sight of her best friend in the door. “There she is!”

“Little Sam I am!” Eric declared. “You ready to go?”

“Let's move on out, boys,” she said as she fixed the brim of her hat.

“And remember if you guys need anything, call me back at my place or down at Montana,” Aurora continued.

“Will do,” Eric told her with a shake of her hand, and the two of them doubled back to the door and put on their sunglasses in unison.

“We're the men in black,” Sam decreed as she led them back outside.

“Hell yeah,” said Greg. Eric led them back to his rental car, which was parked up at the corner, right in front of Aurora's car.

“Shotgun,” Sam declared.

“Damn it!” Greg scoffed, and Eric laughed out loud as he took out his keys and climbed in first.

“Her and Alex, man,” Greg added.

“Alex always calls shotgun?” Sam asked them as she followed suit into the front passenger seat.

“Oh, he's terrible with that,” Eric replied. “Whenever we played out at clubs back in the Golden State, he made it a nervous tic of sorts. Sometimes he'll slip it in mid conversation—like we'll be walking to our car and he'll be in the middle of saying something and he'll slip in the word 'shotgun' in.”

“I remember the first time he did that, Louie looked at him like he just slipped in a foreign word or something,” Greg recalled as he shut the back door. Sam slid her book bag down between her legs. She could only assume that it was for the rest of that day and that they would get her home soon enough.

Indeed, when they got on the road, she took out her journal from the inside and returned to that drawing of Zelda. It needed something: it was the start of a new chapter for her and thus she needed to add something more to it. She gazed out the window at the scraggly trees that lined the highway and she thought about Joey. She wondered how he was doing while on tour and if he was staying away from all the booze and brutal partying.

Next to the shaded cherries on the left side of the page, Sam doodled a glass soda bottle. She had hope that Joey would turn his attention to singing and staying sober with things like soda for the duration of that tour. Clean and sober, like a bottle of soda. The cherries only made the doodle more appropriate.

She hadn't drawn glass much before, but she had seen it in person many times: that little bit of shine on the curvature of the bottle as well as the neck.

Right in between the bottle and the cherries, she got to work on a little rose, in honor of Rosita. And once she had finished the basic sketching, she ran the pencil over it all again to make their shadows richer and darker.

She lifted her gaze again to the dark forest outside of the car. Even though she was in the car with Eric and Greg, she was still technically alone. She sat in a car with two men she didn't really know very well and she was drawing right next to them to boot. She was alone with her thoughts. A few leaves still clung to the dark branches of all the trees, and each one of them were as orange as Marla's hair to contrast with the cold gray in the sky.

Soon the signs for Ithaca emerged from the scraggly, damp shrubs and the memory of the Stormtroopers of Death tour returned to her.

“I came out here with Joey last summer,” she said. “Took me out this way just so I could take a shower.”

“Context?” Greg asked her with a clearing of his throat.

“Touring with Stormtroopers and none of us had showered in days, and I finally couldn't take it anymore and Joey and I drove to his parents' house just for that.”

“Ohhhh, shit,” Eric groaned.

“Damn, that's rough,” Greg joined in, “kinda metal, though. You went from one place to another just for a shower and hung out with the Stormtroopers.”

Sam moved over to the right side of the paper and Eric took a glimpse over at her.

“Amazed you can draw while you're in the car,” he admitted. “I try to do that and I get dizzy almost immediately.”

“I feel the drive to create, you know?” she said as she kept her eyes on the cherries to the right of Zelda. “I want to make something in Cliff's wake, too. He did the same thing after his brother died after all.”

“That he did,” he replied in a thoughtful tone.

They fell back into silence and that gave her more time to finish the drawing. That one drawing just for herself, and she had ran the pencil over her initials once again by the time they rolled into that first intersection in Ithaca. She opened the journal even more across her lap for Eric and Greg to see. The former gaped at it and for so long that he kept the car in place there for almost too long.

“Holy shit,” he said as he lunged forward to the fuel station on the corner. Sam lifted up the journal so Greg himself could see it from the back seat.

“That's fucking beautiful,” he remarked.

“You ought to show that to Alex when you see him again—he's bit of an art kid,” Eric told her as he returned to the street.

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” She thought about that leaf of rice paper back in her apartment, still there in the safe place of her drawer. “What is with these heavy metal guys and a love of the arts,” Sam chuckled. “Lars is an art guy, Charlie's an art guy, and now I find out Alex is one, too.”

“You're a lot like us,” Eric replied, nonplussed. “We're dark and pissed off—there's something about you that's dark and pissed off. Aurora told me where the studio is—I just forget—oh, wait, there it is.”

It was a small brick building tucked back in the trees, with a little narrow walkway up to the front door that resembled to the walkway at school, and it stood a bit away from the actual road, and Eric told her it would serve as the perfect spot for them to get as loud as they could.

“Just so long as there's no one else in there with us,” Greg pointed out. “Come in here around New Year's and totally raise some hell.”

Sam lingered near the car, and she peered up at the dark trees. The one next to her still had a pair of leave on the lowest branch: a single dark red leaf next to a yellow one. She thought of Cliff and the yellow tulips back home, still strong and stout against all odds.

Within time, Eric and Greg drove her back to the Bronx, and by that time, night had fallen and she wished to make more art in Cliff's honor. Art for herself as well as him. She had a whole day to herself with nothing to think about and no one to spend it with, and thus she sat down with the journal and her colored pencils.

She thought about those thirty one ink drawings she had made the year before in honor of Spreading the Disease, except these were to honor herself and Cliff. All the colors, and all the dark graphite. Herself with Cliff. Their arms around each other's love and their lips pressed upon each other: nothing too much and nothing too intense, and yet making them took a great deal out of her. And that night, she went off to bed and fell asleep by the time her head hit the pillow.

She had cried out all her tears for him but drawing herself with him was what buried the coffin under the earth. By Sunday and her realization that she was to witness Zelda in front of a real crowd of people, she closed the journal and lay it on her desk. Its final resting place.

The show itself in Providence took place the next day while Sam was at school, but Marla insisted on going because the next day was Thanksgiving.

“We've got to—it's home coming for the Cherries,” she had said, and thus the two of them plus Belinda climbed into Charlie's car and they made the two hour drive to Providence once school let out. Every time Marla flipped her hair back, all the colors shimmered and waved about as if her hair was made of titanium. There was no way Zelda could miss them out in that big crowd.

And a big crowd it was: the four of them congregated off to the side, right next to the stage, and they watched the four girls roar forth in front of two thousand people. A band that had been playing in clubs were finally able to stretch their wings and let their sound ring out.

“This is the type of show they needed to play,” Belinda declared in a voice barely loud enough for Sam and Marla to hear.

They closed out their set with “Day of the Dead” and Sam thought about that night three weeks before. She closed her eyes and let the music guide her way. Cliff's arms. Cliff's safety and the extent of his heart. But alas, she couldn't.

She finally put him to bed. Zelda slammed the cymbals one last time and the crowd before them erupted.

“Thank you, Providence!” Morgan shouted into the microphone. “We love our home!”

The four of them ducked off stage, and Marla clapped over her head once Zelda appeared with a wide euphoric grin on her face.

“Oh, my god, that was insane!” she shrieked as she picked up a full water bottle from a table next to the wall. She pushed her black hair back and she let Rosita pour the cold water over her hot forehead. “That's what I'm talking about!”

To think they were on the brink of disbanding and giving it all up, and they performed as though their lives depended on it. Even though she was hot and sweaty, Sam still threw her arms around her and held her close. And she stayed there with them as they watched Metallica, Sam's first time seeing them with Jason.

It seemed hard to believe, even implausible, to think that those three men had already experienced so much in such a short amount of time, much like how she did herself. But in that year alone, they had put out a brand new record and embarked on a huge tour, plus James shattered his arm, and then they lost their brother from another mother. And yet, here they were, in all their glory. Five years into the whole adventure and yet they had come such a long way.

At one point, Jason nodded over at her with a little smirk on his face. His curled bangs kissed his brow, and she could make out the little twinkle in his eye. She nodded at him as he played along: not even a few weeks into the fold, and he was already a good hard part of it.

“We're back, baby,” she whispered: the faintest of whispers such that the surrounding crowd couldn't hear her, but she knew Cliff could, even when she finally put him to bed.

#fanfic #fanfiction #testament fanfic #legacy #chapter 36 #eric peterson #greg christian #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #deadly nightshade #book two #writing #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #text

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canumoveurseatup-no · 4 years

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dark room

summary: grow through what you go through.

(please read warnings and author’s note before continuing to read)

wc: 10.5k

pairings: dad!sam x black!reader

warnings: this gets real okay... it contains drug use, alcohol abuse, mental illness, parental abuse, mentions of suicide- it’s dark, it’s raw, it’s real so please read with caution. reader has fluid sexuality, light smut

a/n: my 20th birthday passed months ago (this was supposed to be out on my birthday, back in august) and i know that doesn’t seem like a big deal to other people but it’s a big deal to me, especially coming from someone who has tried to end their lives multiple times, someone who had battled mental illness for years, someone who used substances to numb any sort of pain. It’s been a long time coming. And I’m still fighting every single day but I am here so this is mainly for me but also for anyone who is struggling with anything in their lives. Keep. Pushing.

———————

You wanted to feel like you were dancing on the ceiling. You wanted to do your own little lonely dance like no one was watching. The room was hot, the smell stale, hair sticking to your forehead, nothing was real. You were a mere atom prancing across a screen of color. You didn’t notice the phones out recording you while you experienced one of the best trips of your life. They weren’t making fun of you, they were cheering you on but their cheers fell on deaf ears as it felt like you had cotton stuffed in your own.

You fell in a chair, seeing various pills splayed out on the table. So many to choose from, they were so pretty but then the sight of little white lines caught your attention, you weighed your options. You had enough nose candy before you even got here. You pre-gamed so hard you came to the party two hours late from falling out.

You wanted to touch the ends of the universe so you snatched another tab off the table and pressed it on your tongue like a fruit roll up with tongue tattoos on it. The dancing bodies in front of you distorted as you grabbed a heavy liquor bottle and stumbled from standing up too fast... or maybe it was the drugs? You felt your face smile and your body go numb as you fell back on a bunch of clouds.

You found a guy eyeing you from the other side of the room or at least it seemed like it, his face was an absolute blur. But soon he was right in front of you and you could see specs of yellow in his brown irises. They were almost like sunflowers.

“Wanna have a good time?,” he opens the palm of his hands and you see a pretty blue pill.

“What’s it do?,” you don’t notice the slurring, you don’t notice the left side of your body going numb... you stopped breathing for a minute and as fearsome as it sounds... you welcomed it. It’s all you’ve been craving since you were nine years old... to just. stop. breathing. But your chest opened up again, hugging the air tight in its lungs to keep your body alive.

“However you’re feeling now? Multiply that times ten... it makes you feel like your third eye is opening. You can taste colors, see tastes... it’s unreal,”

“How much for it?,” the words flew past your lips faster than your mind could understand.

“It’s on me,”

—————

You don’t remember how you made it home, maybe you walked again- maybe you made the right choice and called an Uber.

You only remember mumbling a “bye, daddy” to the guy who gave you the blue pill, sending you off with more for the future. You felt like God was holding you in his hands and blessing you with the best life right now.

You weren’t aware of your little brother’s door being cracked open and him waiting up for you as you tried to quietly get to the bathroom.

“Oops,” you laughed to yourself. It was a sight your little brother saw often- you didn’t know that, your dad didn’t know that. Keith never knew how to tell anyone he was worried for his sister. He was 12- he didn’t know what was wrong with you. But he didn’t hesitate to scream when he found you in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet with throw up all over yourself.

“Y/N!!,” he tried to shake you awake but your eyes were dull and half lidded, “Y/N stop! Wake up, wake up, wake up!!,” he even slapped you. Nothing worked.

“Dad!! Daaaaddd!,” Keith ran down the hallway to your dad’s room. Sam woke in a frenzy and looked at Keith with worry

“Something’s wrong with Y/N! She won’t wake up!,” the 12 year old sobbed and Sam booked it out of his room to find your body limp on the toilet. Underwear mid thigh, as if you passed out while trying to pull them down to pee. Throw up all in your lap, body dripping with cold sweat.

“Keith, Call 911!”

—————

He always watched you now... he always had appointments set up at the doctors to test your urine but it didn’t stop you from using. There were always ways around passing drug tests. Often times you’d ask a friend to pee in a cup then pour it in a ziploc baggie and hide it in your sports bra to keep it warmed up. You knew how to beat the system.

Pour a little in the toilet so it makes it look like you peed, they always check afterwards. Then pour it in the cup to the line they mark. You ‘pass’ each time.

“You’re coming on the trip,”

“I’ve earned your trust,” your mouth felt dry, the edible you took before 6th period still hasn’t worn off yet and you were trying to keep calm- there’s no way he was going to ruin your high.

“You’ve earned yourself suicide watch and consistent drug tests. My trust for you disappeared when I found you damn near dead and had to watch them hook you up to machines and put you on temporary dialysis amongst other things to save your life,”

He was still bitter. It happened a month ago. He should be over it, you were.

“Fuck you, Dad,” you stormed off to your room and slammed the door

“Don’t you talk to me like that in my house!,” he yelled from the other side of your door. He should have taken it off the hinges like he planned.

You didn’t want to go on some stupid resort. Something about channeling your inner peace and looking at the bigger picture. Everyone was going, even his old team members, a family you didn’t feel a part of, he thought it’d be a good idea to surround yourself with good company.

You scream out and begin throwing clothes into a bag knowing he wasn’t letting up.

You see the glimmer of a small plastic baggy under your mattress and pull it out, seeing an array of candy. Maybe you could survive this trip?

You stuff the baggy in a pair of socks and smile, hoping to get a sense of familiarity.

You were gonna survive this trip.

—————

You shouldn’t have worn shorts today. That stupid health class intern saw the marks on your thigh and told the school nurse and now your found yourself in the car with your dad yelling at you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you not realize you have a main artery in your thigh! Had you gone deep enough you would have been gone, Y/N! What the fuck is wrong with you,”

You figured if a parent found their 11 year old was cutting themselves they’d do something other than yell... they’d do something other than tell the entire family and have them call at you just to yell at you as well.

“Nothing in life is that bad for you to do that to yourself!!,”

“That’s stupid, Y/N! Who in their right mind would do that to themselves?!,”

You heard it all. You cried when you got home, and hugged your little brother, not knowing if you’d ever get the chance to again because you were on the verge of ending it all. 11 years old... wanting to end it... you weren’t sure what was wrong with you. You just woke up every day hating yourself, woke up everyday wondering what life would be like for your family had you not been born.

Your older sister didn’t know how to help.. and your little brother was sure he was going to lose his sister.

You believed you were a by-product of a bad relationship. So your self-hatred started young. Watching your parents argue everyday- watching your mom cry because your dad kicked all of you out on Christmas Eve and you had to stay with your grandparents... watching the ugly divorce and how he became an alcoholic and she became emotionally unavailable.. even having to talk to the cops because your dad left bruises on your legs, from beating you because you were calling out for him due to being afraid to sleep in your own room when you usually sleep in his...

But he had a lady friend over that night....

The meds the psychiatrist put you on gave you chest pains... you went from using a pair scissors to hurt yourself to watching YouTube videos on how to get a blade out of a shaving razor. You skipped meals just to be a little skinnier like everyone else in your family.

You wrote notes.. you wore black sweatshirts, even in the prime of summer, to cover your arms when you ran out of space on your thighs and ankles and hips. You were a mess and no one came close to understanding. You don’t know how or why you turned out this way.

You felt like your mom hated you, you felt like your dad wasn’t your dad, like he was just there... you were stuck in a place where you felt like you didn’t belong and it made your heart skip beats. It had you crying almost every night.

And everyday you struggled. Waiting for the day that you snap and off yourself.

————-

“Y/N! Y/N!,” you felt your sister, Savannah, nudge you in your rib cage, “Uncle Buck was talking to you, snap out of it,”

You felt everyone hug you and it felt unfamiliar. You felt out of place. All these bright green trees looked fake- the air was too clean- the water in the cups too pure.

You craved to be surrounded by drugged, dancing bodies, feeling the beat of the music vibrating every single nerve in your body. You wanted to feel like you were on the edge of death just to feel alive. You wanted to be surrounded by guys and girls who gave you the slightest bit of attention and took you home. You wanted to feel loved even if it were for a few hours out of the night.

You didn’t want to be here- you wanted to feel the burn of alcohol run down your throat. You wanted to see auras around everyone as you blinked. You wanted to hide in the bathroom and stumble against the walls, laughing as you struggled to get your pants down to pee. You wanted to numb every single thought, you wanted to get so blacked out you couldn’t remember anything that ha-

“Y/N, lets go unpack,” Natasha’s hand grasped around yours and you let her drag you to one of the resort rooms. Your bag tight around your shoulder, you looked around the room and hated to be in it. It was too bright, too colorful... you wanted to be in a dark room under a guy as he choked you out and you felt him deep in your stomach. You wanted to be in a dark room, feeling a someone’s lips on you, replicating what you expect love to be like.

Everything was too fucking bright... too bright compared to the dark rooms you’d be in at night, intoxicated, crying, while getting your brains fucked out because you just wanted to feel affection... even if it was fake.

“How have you been feeling?” She sits on the bed as you stand at the door, frowning at everything in the room, “You can be honest with me- I won’t tell Sam. I know it’s hard not having anyone to talk to-,”

“Is there a town close by?,” you snap your eyes towards her. It might be a dumb question but you zoned out the whole three hour ride here.

“Ugh yeah, about 20 minutes out, why?”

“C-can you get me? S-something? I- I need to... I just need to ebb the feelings away,”

“I want to help you, b-but I can’t do that for you,” she knew what you meant but no way in hell would she advocate for you continuing to tear yourself down.

“So why lie and say I can be honest if you can’t give me the one thing I need?!,” you felt the walls closing in. You focused too much on one thing and you found yourself stumbling.

“Y/N, it’s okay, I’m here, calm down, calm down,”

“Get out!!,” you felt your hands shaking, you had no control over anything, “I want to be alone! Get the fuck out!,”

“I can’t leave you alone like this!,”

You take your bag and storm off to the bathroom to lock the door. You wasted no time in digging in the bag for the sock with the little baggy of pills, popping three in your mouth and swallowing them dry. You don’t remember what kind of drug it was... you were just hoping it made you feel good.

—————

You were on autopilot. You forgot how to walk but your muscle memory helped propel you to the dining hall and there they had a sermon about trusting life’s forces and welcoming traumas to push through triggering times. You felt like it was a bunch of bull crap but you were interested because you were high off your ass.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,”

Your dad eyed you closely but worried less when he actually saw you head to the bathroom.

You paced the bathroom until a girl walked in and eyed you closely.

“Your family drag you here too?,” she eyed you up and down. She knew your behavior all too well. You were on the verge of a withdrawal break down.

“You from around here?,” you wanted to get out of here. You wanted to have fun, you wanted to get hammered.

“Yeah why?,”

“Know any parties? Like- with tons of alcohol a-and stuff? I can’t sit around here and listen to this circle of life bullshit! I. Need. Sweat and hookups and to not remember anything,” you rambled and rambled until the girl calmed you down.

“Dude, chill out,” she placed her hands on your shoulder and shook you to calm you down, “Meet me by the ugly ass evergreen tree by the entrance- midnight. I’m about to lose my cool in this place too,”

She could really be a murderer, you don’t know this girl, nor a name, nothing. But it was worth a try. Not like you’d end up being best friends.

—————

It was easy. Savannah was out cold after the dinner- she loved to eat but, it never stuck. You wish you were like that but no... it stuck everywhere, it always did.

Your dad did his last check on you at 10 so it was easy to leave. The girl waited for you in her little Prius and you went about your way.

“I’m Eve by the way,”

“Y/N,”

You didn’t want to converse. You wanted chemicals coursing through your veins to shut off every single thought, every voice, every vision in your head.

“So what’s your story? You know this resort- It’s supposed to be some pseudoscience rehab,”

“Listen, Eve,” you sighed, “I’m not one for talking, now, get some alcohol in me and then you can get in my head, hell maybe even my pants, but until then, I don’t like to talk,”

“My parents found me with a needle in my arm,” she admitted, you cursed under your breath and realized she was gonna ramble anyway. But maybe this was good for her, someone her age, someone she could relate to, “It was laced but... God it was something great and I... I never wanted it to end,” she talked as if it was a dream.

“They told me I flatlined a couple times- I couldn’t tell though but... maybe I did because I felt like I was in heaven,”

She kept talking about her experiences until you pulled up to a house with a bunch of cars out front, you didn’t even wait for her to fully stop the car before jumping out and running inside.

You saw a bunch of tangled, kissing bodies, slumped, passed out bodies, people candy flipping, people snorting lines. You weren’t sure which poison to pick.

You walked up to a girl passing small baggies around, “What’s this?,”

“Its a new street drug called angel wings, wanna try it?,”

“Will it make me feel better than lsd?,”

“Way better, dude,”

“How much can 50 bucks buy?,”

“2 baggies. Five pills come in each,”

You slapped the fifty in her hands and snatched two from her, damn near ripping one of the baggies open, to pop a single periwinkle pill in your mouth and snatching someone’s cup to swallow it down. You spotted Eve looking around for you and rushed over to her, grabbing her hand.

“Wanna dance?,”

“Did you take something already?,”

“Yeah man, you wanted to talk? I’m drugged up enough to talk,”

————

Not much talking happened. You felt yourself crying until she held your face to wipe the tears away and you found yourself in her lap, kissing her with all your might.

“Y/N you don’t want to slow down? We don’t have to do this,”

You took almost a whole baggy of angel wings and felt like you were flying, every single touch she placed on your body made the hairs on your skin stand up.

“Wanna forget, everything,” you slurred, “y-you don’t have to because... someone else will but... I trust you- to take care of me,”

Eve felt her heart swell at your words. She squeezed your thighs in her hands. Your skin was soft just like her ex’s. The one Eve lost due to her addiction driving her away. You gave her a sense of familiarity, so she kissed you back with just as much urgency. Eve had her own drug of choice running through her own bloodstream and every time you touched her had her body vibrating with tingles. She flipped you over and removed any piece of clothing that got in her way.

“Love me...,” you pleaded, your eyes found hers in the dark room. The dark room you’ve been craving just so no one could see you, they can feel you and maybe see your silhouette but the can’t see... you. You felt tears come to your eyes and you were thankful she couldn’t really see them.

“Even though it’s fake.. just... just love me how you would love someone else,”

Teeth clashed, toes curled, muscles tensed, backs arched, it was invigorating. It might have been the drugs, it might have been the fact that Eve seemed to know you like her favorite song. The both of your fingers were soaked and sticky. Skin bruised with love bites and dented with nail impressions. Throats raw from moaning and begging.

You were close and once you hit the big O, you understood the meaning behind the drug name. You heard the beating of wings and saw the bright light. You were an angel ascending and the gates of heaven opened for you just as you let out that final scream of Eve’s name. Eve... first of God’s creation.

You felt her lips on your cheek as she came with you, she held you tight and you stared up at the ceiling, letting your body tremors calm as your mind shut down with the rest of you.

—————

Eve sobered up but you made sure to drink half a bottle of cheap scotch before heading back to face the wrath of your dad.

You saw the big ugly evergreen and grumbled to yourself. Eve held your hand the whole drive and you cringed at any contact. You felt bad that you felt repulsed by her touch but you were too sober for any interaction of the sort.

She parked the car and kissed your cheek, you let her, before getting out and mumbling a thank you and goodbye and heading back in the direction of your room. You slightly stumbled and didn’t notice everyone waiting for you outside. You sniffled and felt your nose hurt, you don’t even remember snorting anything. Don’t remember what pill you popped, what drug you sniffed or what drink you took to the head and that’s how you liked it.

“Where the hell have you been?,”

Your dad’s voice was muffled and all you could do was flutter your eyes at him.

“You’re drugged up right now aren’t you?!”

You simply walked around him in what felt like slow motion, you ignored everyone eyeing you like a helpless puppy and went in the resort room to go to the bathroom.

“Don’t walk away from me, Y/N! What is it going to take for you to get better?! To stop this shit?! You’re killing yourself and don’t even realize it!,”

“Oh I realize it,” you crawl in the bathtub and just sit there. You don’t turn on any water, you just sit there

“I just don’t care enough”

——————

You woke up to a splitting headache, still lying in the tub. You groan as you pick yourself up and head out to the room to see Savannah sitting at the foot of the bed, waiting for you to sober up.

“Why can’t you be normal?,” her eyes were red like she’d been crying, Keith was out cold, he fell asleep waiting for you to wake up, “You’re putting dad through so much. You’re traumatizing Keith. Get a fucking grip and sober up!,” she gritted through her teeth.

“I didn’t ask to be this way. I didn’t ask to be born, Savannah. I’m sorry I’m not perfect and pretty and popular like you or a kid genius like Keith. I’m sorry I’m a junkie with no future. You were there when I was in therapy. You were there when they diagnosed me with an anxiety disorder a-and bipolar disorder and an addictive personality... you were there... I didn’t ask to be this way. Want me to be normal? Well rewire everything in my fucking head to do it,”

She wiped her face and shook her head, “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you,”

“Well don’t. If I’m not worried you shouldn’t be,” you undress and wrap yourself in a towel for a shower, “I’m too far gone for worrying,”

—————

The next day there were multiple families at one of the sermon meeting thingies and it just so happened to be set up like a fucking AA meeting.

“I’m not doing this bullshit,” It was your turn to speak and you scoff, getting ready to get up and leave until Sav stopped you. You heard everyone else’s story and it didn’t inspire you to get better, it didn't move you. You didn’t give a shit about any of this.

“Do this for me... for Keith,”

You saw Keith practically pleading you and you sat back down to introduce yourself.

“I’m Y/N,”

“Welcome, Y/N,” everyone said around the room.

“I’m only here because I was forced to,” You laugh to yourself, “I don’t believe I can get better, I mean I haven’t been anyway. I’ve been faking my drug tests to pass, I’m still using, still drinking,”

You could feel Sam burning holes in the side of your head at your admission.

“Last night I snuck out and got so high I felt like I was flying,” you sighed happily, “I don’t remember when I started using but I uh- it might have been when I was trading my anxiety meds for stronger pills like ecstasy then I jumped to lsd just to run away from my fucked up reality,”

You catch Tony’s eyes, then Steve then Nat and Wanda and Bucky and so on and they all looked at you with fucking pity, it made you sick.

“I don’t believe in this shit okay? I don’t believe in praying away all these fucking chemical imbalances in my head!,” you felt your stomach churn and you felt your eyes sting, “I think I’m okay! I’m fine!,” you yelled, you were angry now, you hated being forced to talk about it.

“I’m doing a lot better with drugs and alcohol than I am without,” you were really trying to convince yourself, you weren’t fooling anyone, “When I’m high I experience the highest of highs! I- I can stay up for days and not need a wink of sleep,” You animated your gestures and looked around in hopes someone would understand.

“I can finally eat without throwing it back up because then I don’t hate myself so fucking much!,” You pound your thighs and felt the shakes come back, “I can finally eat- I can finally give myself the basic things a human needs without hating myself for it” you felt tears pool in your eyes and you hated yourself for crying but you blamed it on the 24 hours of sobriety.

“When I’m high, I don’t feel the extreme lows of my disorders. I finally break out of my shell and meet new people. I talk! I- I meet guys and they show me affection even if it’s for an hour or two and I finally feel loved in my life!,”

You felt Savannah rest her hand on your arm until you jerk away.

“When I’m high- I’m waaaay up and and... and I’m happy! I don’t feel depressed I don’t feel anxious. Being high or drunk shuts up that stupid voice in my head and no one gets it! I am better inebriated! Why can’t you see that!!,” you look to Sam for an answer and all you can see is tears in his eyes.

“And if I die? Hell! It’d be best for everyone! You wouldn’t have to worry anymore! You w-wouldn’t have to waste money on doctors visits just for me to pour someone else’s piss in a fucking cup! No suicide watch! No more not trusting me. No more me faking to be happy.. if this kills me?? Everyone would get what they wanted,”

“What do you think everyone wants, Y/N?,” the woman running the session finally speaks up. Everyone around the room seemed worried for you. You truly didn’t understand why.

You look to Savannah and shake your head.

“Peace,” you shrug and angrily wipe your eyes,

“A normal life”

—————

Once you got back to the room you scream, you screamed so loud and cried and pulled at your roots, you saw yourself in the mirror and threw it off the wall just so you wouldn’t have to look at yourself

“Be normal!,” you screamed at yourself. You felt like a noose was around your neck and the ground beneath you opened up leaving you hanging, feet kicking, desperate for air.

“Why can’t I b-be norm-mal?,” you choked on your words and clawed at your throat. Everything was upside down and spinning.

You didn’t hear the door open, you didn’t know anyone was in the room until your dad picked you up and dragged you outside.

The cool air rushed its way into your nasal passages and your chest opened up with a gasp. You couldn’t see your dad because of the tears, you could barely hear him.

“N-norm-mal... I wanna be normal,” You kept repeating over and over until your body gave out succumbed to your meltdown. Sam hugged your body and rocked you back and forth, despite people watching from their own rooms or passing by.

“We’re gonna get you help,”

“I don’t want he-help. I want it to end! I want black out from all the shit I take a-and not wake up!,”

Sam didn’t know what to do. He knows the trauma he caused you was a part of the reason you’re in this spot and mindset.

“I ruin everything I touch... I... I just..,” out of all the things you could have become- you had to become an addict. At first you didn’t want to acknowledge it because you were functioning just fine, that is until you couldn’t wake up and go about your day without it, you couldn’t do basic daily tasks without popping a perc here and there, until you couldn’t go to sleep without taking something, “I want it to stop but then- then again I don’t b-because I love it- it’s disgusting,”

“It’s going to be okay,”

“But it’s not. Nothing is okay a-and you need to get comfortable with the idea of this killing me because- because it’s going to happen,”

———

“I don’t think drinking is going to help, Sam”

Tony took the cup from Sam and he lost it, “I’m gonna lose my daughter and it’s all my fault,”

Tony didn’t know how to talk about this kind of thing- what can be said?

“It’s no one’s fault, Sam. Life doesn’t always hand us the best cards,”

Sam sniffled and shook his head, lost, frustrated, angry, upset, “What can I do? I’m losing hope,”

“I don’t think you’re going to like my answer but it seems to be her best option,”

Sam looked hopeful- anything will do as long as it gave you a chance to get clean and stay alive

“What is it?,”

———

“Inpatient rehab?!,”

He dropped the bombshell when you all got back home. Dropped it right in front of everyone- maybe he expected you to welcome the idea with open arms but you know what goes on behind those closed doors.

“You’re fucking kidding!,” you had dark circles under your eyes and your lips were dry- your dad had literally kept you on lock down the remainder of the trip, you didn’t even have in person contact with Eve but you did however end up with her number to hit her up whenever.

“You admitted you had a problem, honey. This could be good for you,” Bucky spoke up and you scoffed loudly.

“I’m not going!,” You tugged on the sleeves of your maroon sweater and paced the room, “They’re just going to lock me in a room to the point where I have cold sweats and screaming for more morphine to make the pain, itches and delusions stop!,”

Nat tried to take your hand in hers but you slapped her hand away.

“Y/N!,” Keith stomped his foot and you stared at his small stature. Tears glistening in his eyes, bottom lip quivering, “You need help!! Stop it!,”

You scowled and turned away from your baby brother. Your body trembled as you tried to keep the sobs in.

“When do I go?,”

You weren’t prepared for the answer, but you should have expected it yet your stomach still dropped.

“They’ll be here to pick you up in an hour,”

—————

“Nothing is real,” you mumbled to yourself as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Your face was dull, eyes boring and empty, hair thinning, appetite decreasing. You’d think being here for 60 days so far would do you some good but no...

You barely slept. The first 30 days you cried and screamed to be saved but now you barely even speak. You sat back on your bed just to turn to the wall.

“Wilson- you have visitors,” the nurse came into your room and saw you sitting facing the wall. You were now eligible to have visitors and spend time with family and friends.

“Don’t want visitors,” you cleared your throat and stared at the pale yellow paint on the wall, judging the job of the painters for leaving so many air bubbles in the paint.

“This could do you some good,” your nurse shuts the door behind her and sits with you on your bed, “Your family loves and misses you. Seeing them could motivate you to finish this strong,”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your body shook with an animated belly laugh.

“They fucking locked me away in here,” you frowned, feeling sick to your stomach, “They let those people drag me away and lock me in here. Fuck their love, it’s not real!,”

She sighed and nodded knowing nothing she said would change how you feel. She’s seen it plenty of times before. She’s seen people recover completely yet still resent their families and loved ones for sending them here.

“I’m always able to contact them if you ever change your mind,”

“Fat chance,”

——

The nurse walked to the family area to see the hopeful faces of your family and loved ones. They hadn’t seen you in 60 something days.

“I’m sorry but Y/N isn’t feeling well enough to have visitors,” the nurse plays with her watch band and hates to see the way everyone’s faces drops.

“I want to see my sister!,” Keith tugged on Sam.

“What do you mean she’s not feeling well? She should be feeling at least a little fine in this stage right?,”

She sighs and shakes her head, “The stages in recovery are subjective. Chemical dependency is a hard thing to battle- some days she’s fine and some days like today she’s angry at everything and everyone. As much as I would like for her to see everyone, we can not force her,”

Steve stands up and sets a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “On a day, that she’s feeling better, will you call us?,”

“Of course,”

———

“I know she’s still angry,” Sam sent Savannah and Keith to their rooms while he stayed up with everyone else, “She’s my daughter, I know how she is. She holds grudges a-and she’s still upset,”

“Maybe, but she’ll see this was something she needed,” Bruce tried to make things better but nothing would be better until you were.

“How did things get this bad?,” he slammed his glass on the table and startled everyone.

“I know it’s hard right now but just- just calm down, Sam,” Bucky worried about his friend. He could only imagine how much he was losing his mind and hope on the inside.

“Calm down?,” Sam asked incredulously, “Calm the fuck down?! How can I calm down when I don’t even know if I’m going to see my daughter again, man?,” the legs of the chair screeched against the floor as he stood up in a rush.

Wanda rested a hand on his arm to try and soothe him but he wasn’t having it, “We get it, Sam. We know you’re hurting-,”

“But you don’t!,” he shouted, “You weren’t there when I got a phone call at work from her school nurse saying she had cuts all on the inside of her thigh! You didn’t see it! It looked like fucking grid paper and crosshatching! You weren’t there when I had to sit there in therapy and listen to the way she talks about herself and her life and me- my daughter hates herself and genuinely thinks I hate her and she believes everything that goes wrong is her fault- you didn’t hear the way she talked about herself!,”

For longest time Sam kept quiet about all of this, just wanting to push through it until it got better but it was time he faced the music.

“You weren’t there when she screamed at me, telling me she wished she was never born and I just stood there calling her ungrateful, selfish and dramatic! I didn’t listen to her, I only paid attention to Savannah and Keith and left her feeling unloved. You weren’t there when I caught her sneaking out and she was drunk, you weren’t there when I ignored everything the psychiatrist said about her having an addictive personality and excused all the signs she started to display until I fucking found her blacked out with throw up all over her!,”

He realized he couldn’t just pin it all on you. You were suffering and he hated himself for not realizing it until he was.

No one knew what to say- they were only outsiders, sure they were family but they didn’t get an inside scoop until a few months ago when they got a phone call from Sam saying you were in the hospital. They still didn’t know how to handle it. They could fight bad guys and fucking aliens all day but addiction of a loved one? That was new and left them stumped.

“But damn you were there when she talked about being okay with it if this just killed her. No one wants to hear a loved one say that- especially their child!,” he ran a hand over his face to get rid of the tears, he felt like he didn’t have a right to cry, “I did a lot of wrong as her father and I didn’t even think how my shitty actions contributed to where she is now. Now my daughter could be dying while trying to recover,”

Tony stood up and pulled Sam in a hug, grateful that Sam was seeing everything from a different perspective than his own. He was grateful that Sam was a father trying to right his wrongs and do better.

“It’s not too late,”

————

Your nurse came a few times a week letting you know that you had visitors but you turned them away each time.

The cold sweats happened less, you ate more, your skin started to warm up again and you could finally sleep throughout the night but you still wouldn’t see them. It’d probably bring back a ton of memories that would trigger you to relapse.

You earned yourself time out of the facility but only with supervision. Your nurse, Brielle, accompanied you to trips to the park and lunches.

“Y/N?,”

You looked in the direction of the voice and saw Savannah smiling at seeing you but fear just filled you.

She looked different, she cut her hair and dyed it, her make up was softer and her style was more... indie?

“I’ve missed you so much,” she moved in for a hug but you moved away only to see her smile drop, “Y/N, don’t do that. I’m your sister,”

“I’m recovering from substance abuse not amnesia,” You scowled. You turned to Brielle and asked her to go.

“Why can’t you just be normal?,”

Savannah’s voice echoed in your head and you felt a band around your head tightening yet again, it was your body’s reaction to let you know that you need to get out of the situation or else you’d fall subject to a mental break.

“Brielle, we gotta go,” You scooted out of the booth, past Savannah and tugged Brielle out of the restaurant- forgetting that you were even ordering.

“Y/N please! Talk to me! Talk to Keith, Dad! We miss you,”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!!,” you covered your ears and dropped down against the car, feeling dizzy, feeling every swirl around you as you tried to grasp onto reality.

“Grow through what you go through, grow through what you go through, grow through what you go through,”

You repeated the mantra over and over again. It’s a mantra designed specifically for you. Every patient gets their own mantra for when they feel like they’re losing. Yours is to help you remind yourself that nothing is ever easy but that doesn’t mean give up... life and it’s struggles will always be there but that doesn’t mean stunt your growth and efforts. Grow through what you go through.

“That’s right, you’re doing great,” Brielle whispered, she looked at Savannah over her shoulder and shook her head, “I know it’s hard not seeing her but it’s in Y/N’s best interest that she be willing to see you or anyone else on her own terms,”

Savannah hated to see you crouched on the ground, shaking and mumbling to yourself. She mumbled a sorry before rushing over to her car and crying to herself as she drove home and bursting through the doors, clearly upset to everyone else.

“Dad what’s wrong with, Vanna?,”

Sam looked up to see Savannah cursing to herself, and crying. She wasn’t upset with anyone but herself.

“She looked so scared of me!,”

Sam’s stomach dropped, he didn’t even have to ask who ‘she’ was.

“You saw her?,” Sam didn’t trust his voice and there was a reason for it.

“She was out with her nurse. She looks so much better a-and she looks healthy, she’s eating again. She doesn’t look she’s dying!,”

Savannah was rambling and frustrated that she triggered you like that, “I saw her, I spoke to her but I scared her so bad she fell to the ground and covered her ears so she wouldn’t hear me talking, I- what if she relapses and it’s all my fault?,”

Sam pulled his sobbing daughter into his arms and calmed her down as best as he could, “She’s your sister, anyone in that situation would have done what you did, you miss her and that’s valid,”

It mad him feel good that you seemed to be getting better, that you looked healthy and lively. He just hoped you would be willing to see everyone soon.

------

“You have visitors today but I can send them aw-,”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” it’s been another 30 days and you figured it’s time to face the music, face everyone and maybe get the supposed closure everyone was saying you needed,

You missed her initial shock from your response but she nodded and waited for you anyway. You slipped on your cardigan and slippers, then let Brielle lead you to the visiting area.

Everyone expected to be turned away again but when they saw a second body behind Brielle, they all stood up ready to greet you but she held her hands up in caution

“It’s best to not overwhelm her and to let her initiate any contact,”

Sam just wanted to hug his daughter and let her know how sorry he was but he knew she was right.

You hated the way you felt their eyes burning into you, you couldn't bear to look at them, not yet, so your eyes focused on getting your foot directly in the center of each tile on floor. Brielle sat you down across from them and told you she’d be right outside if you needed anything.

Then there you all were. Face to face.

“It’s been so long,” Keith whimpered, “I missed you so much,”

You played with a stray string in your cardigan and sighed.

“It’s been a long four months, sweetie. I missed you so much,” Sam just wanted you to look at him. Your hair was getting thick again, you skin shone under the sun, your lips were moisturized with color instead of grey and chapped. He could see you were doing better

“Four months, 17 days, 3 hours, 44 minutes and” You cut your attention to the clock on the wall, “12 seconds,” your voice was hoarse and you cursed yourself for it, “That's how long it’s really been,” you wrapped your arms around yourself as a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to push you to that point, baby. I should have been better,”

“Life is too short to feel sorry for ourselves,” you looked up at the ceiling light and shrugged, “This place is all about being philosophical. Don’t be sorry, be better. That’s all they fucking say,” you grit through your teeth.

“Like oh, don't feel sorry for yourself- no one forced you to drink so much, no one told you to roll up that dollar bill, no one held a gun to your head and told you to take those pretty pills with cool names that look like candy,” you smiled and laughed at yourself, the nervous tick you’ve developed to keep from crying.

“No one told you to be ungrateful and hate the gift of life that was given to you, so don't feel sorry for yourself, be better,” you used a mocking voice and rolled your eyes, “There’s no need to blame yourself, the common variable is me, I have to be accountable for my actions,”

Everyone was worried about how scripted this sounded but they dubbed it down to you being a little upset about being forced here, still.

“I still should have been a better, dad,”

“We aaalll make mistakes, Sammy,” he didn’t miss that you didn’t call him dad. Everyone caught it, “But not every dad kicks their family out on Christmas eve with nowhere to go in the freezing cold,”

His heart stopped, he’s never forgiven himself for that drunken mistake. The marriage problems between him and your mom drove him to develop a drinking problem and due to his little problem, it caused him to mess up a lot of things up.

“Why was it me? Like why did Savannah and Keith get to move past all of this and I’m the one stuck? I’m the one suffering even while recovering?”

No one could answer that.

“Why did I have to be the one to talk to the cops because you sent me back to mom with bruises on my legs, huh? I didn’t want to- I didn’t want them to go after you because you were still my dad- I still loved you after yelling at me at dinner, I still loved you after sending me back to mom early when you couldn’t stand to be around me- I still loved you when you moved away and missed big chunks in my life but you kept Sav and Keith. What did I do? Tell me, please, maybe I can fix it, maybe I can be better. I just want my dad to love me,”

“I do love you Y/N! And I’ll never forgive myself for-,

“Don't be sorry! Be better!,” you shouted over him. Angry with yourself that you began crying.

No one knew what to say. Everyone else was here for support but this was clearly a father and daughter situation.

“Did you ever love me?,”

A question a child should never have to ask their parent.

“When I got the call that your mother was in labor with you on my birthday the world stopped,” Sam sat with his elbows on his knees, looking dead at you but you still wouldn’t look at him, “You were the best gift I could have ever asked for.. ever. After we had you, I can’t tell you what went wrong because I don’t know,”

“It’s my fault,” You sobbed, “Say it! It’s my fault. Had I not been born, everyone’s life would be better!,”

You finally looked at him and everyone could see the fire in your eyes, wild and couldn’t be tamed, your trauma being the fuel.

“It’s not your fault at all. I have failed you as a father and I... I let it go on for far too long without acknowledging it and apologizing for it before it got too late,”

“If I could go back in time to make things better I would. I never wanted you to feel unloved or that life would be better without you,”

He hated to be sitting across from you, your mind dead set on him hating you. He just screwed up a lot in his life.

“I let you down so much. I love you more than you could ever know. I just fucked up a lot as your dad,”

“Y/N, sweetie, I know this is hard,” Tony chimed, “But this could be a new beginning for you both. You’re recovering and he’s trying to right his wrongs before it’s too late. It’s not going to be easy and I know everything hurts and it’s going to take time but you know what they say.. grow through what you go through,”

You didn’t have time to ask how he knew your mantra, but it made sense eventually.

“I forgave you a long time ago, dad,” you pulled your cardigan sleeves down, and used them to wipe your eyes, “I didn’t think it’d matter if I became Falcon’s candy flipping daughter or not, I just wanted to make everything stop. I- I just wanted to be numb so I didn’t feel bad about any and everything,”

Sam didn’t take into account how much you were actually battling in day to day life. He didn’t believe anything the psychiatrist was saying when you were 10, if only he did, all of this could have been avoided.

“I’m still fighting my want to just relapse in anyway I can but... I can’t bring myself to do it because I know if I do, that might be it and I don’t want it to be that way dad,”

He reached out to grab your hands and could have sobbed when you didn’t move away

“It doesn't have to be,“

------

180 days is a long time, it might not seem like it, but it is a long ass time for someone to go without something that they believe made them better. Someone who took multiple substances at a time just to shut down their mind so they don’t remember things, so they don’t feel things.

“You gonna be ok watching Keith? We need Sav on this,”

“I got him, dad. Just be safe,”

Sam hated to admit it but he was still worried to leave you alone. He made Tony put away all of his alcohol and set up a security code so no one could get in it.

“I won’t have anyone over, I don’t know the code to the cellar. I’m not going to put Keith through that again, dad. Have a bit more trust in me,”

He watched the way your eyes twinkled and nodded before kissing your cheek and heading out with the team.

“Can we play mancala? No one else likes to play it with me,“

“Sure thing, bud. Let’s go,”

You two played mancala for multiple rounds, just for him to beat you almost every time. You two watched Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader for hours while eating shitty kraft mac and cheese before getting him ready for bed.

“Can you stay with me? So I know you’re safe,”

“Did dad put you up to that?,“

“I just miss my big sister, Y/N,” He sat up and played with his blanket, “I almost saw you dead... you wouldn’t talk to us for forever, I just missed my big sister,” you didn’t mean to make him cry.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here buddy, I’ll stay, okay?,”

You crawled under his blanket and held him tight and he held you even tighter, not wanting you to leave.

----

You don’t know what triggered the nightmare but you woke up in your own room, right on the floor, sweaty and panting. You never sleep walk. You felt something stick to your sweaty palm and look down to see a small plastic baggie with those pretty blue pills from the night you blacked out.

You threw it across the room and curled up against the side of your bed whimpering your mantra to yourself.

“Would you like me to call for help?,” Friday spoke overhead.

“I'm okay,” you clenched your eyes shut and did what you could to muster up the strength to just get up and flush them. It should have been a relief to do it but you felt a pang in your chest. You should have been proud of yourself for having the strength to not break sobriety.

“I thought you said you were gonna be okay?,” Keith’s voice scared the hell out of you, “If you were going to be okay then you wouldn’t look so upset as you flushed them,“

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Keith. Go back to bed,“

“I’m telling dad,”

“Tell him what?,” you snapped your neck to him, eyes narrowing, “What? that I’m still fucking struggling? Yeah, I’ll tell him myself, bud,”

“He’s gonna send you back,” Keith didn’t mean to scare you, he was just worried and his words weren’t coming out right.

“I’d rather shit in my hands and clap,” you threw the baggie away and walked past him to sit on your bed to just try and calm down.

“Do I need to call him,”

“No,”

“Then what needs to happen?,”

“I need you to just be quiet!,” you hated raising your voice at him, but the rambling and patronizing was not helping.

“I’m calling dad,”

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

It was past midnight when they were all headed back and Sam got the phone call from Keith.

“Hey, son,”

“Y/N was walking while she was asleep and then woke up with a bag of pills in her hands,”

“What? she didn’t take any did she?,” Sam’s tone had everyone turning to him with expressions of worry.

“No but she looked sad when she flushed them,”

Sam sighed happily when he heard you’d flushed them. But for you to seem sad while doing so? that couldn’t be a good thing.

“She’s mad that I called you but you need to know, she locked herself in her room after yelling at me. I can hear her crying and talking to herself. I didn’t mean to make her mad, dad,”

Sam sighed and sat back down beside Savannah who was waiting for her dad to hang up so she could know what was happening.

“She’s going to be okay, bud. You have to understand that what she went through was not easy. She might be out of hat place but she’s fighting everyday to continue to get better and get her mind far away from that stuff as best as she can. We have to be patient, okay?,”

You had been pacing in your room. You knew all of this would put you so many steps back with your dad and his trust. You flinched at the sound of knocking at your door and his voice.

“Sweetie, open up,”

You didn’t want to face him right now. You didn’t want to talk about it, nothing. You didn’t need anyone scolding you as you were already scolding yourself. You hadn’t stopped beating yourself up about it.

Sam didn’t want to freak out when you didn’t reply. He didn’t want to admit that he thought the worst, “Honey, please,”

“Dad, I am fine. Get some rest,” another step back. You were doing good not shutting anyone out but the moment something goes down, you forget all your effort.

“Y/N, I am not here to be mad at you. I am here to make sure you’re okay and to let you know I am here. You just gotta let me in,”

You cursed to yourself before walking over to the door to unlock it and let him in. He didn’t hesitate to pull you into a tight hug.

“I didn’t take anything,”

“I know... even if you did- I wouldn’t be mad at you, disappointed yes, but mad? No. Relapse sometimes comes with recovery,”

You don’t know that Sam had been attending seminars for parents that have kids battling different things such as addiction. Multiple lessons were learned as well as communication pointers.

“I didn’t mean to do that while Keith was here. I understand if you don’t trust me anymore,”

“I still trust you, Y/N. You don’t need to be beating yourself up right now. You did the right thing in flushing whatever you had, even if it did make you a little sad and made you feel like you needed it in that moment. Be proud of yourself. You took a big step forward by doing that, be proud,”

“How can I be proud when I hate myself for flushing them?,” you had to be honest. You wouldn’t be feeling this if you weren’t presented with them. It made you feel weak. You should be able to look at these things and be able to say no with no guilt.

“Because you flushed them regardless. This takes time, Y/N. I’m being patient with you now, so you have to learn to be patient with yourself. Rome wasn’t built in a day,”

“Yeah well the people who built it up weren’t highed up on something now were they?,”

“Don’t be self-deprecating. You’re still going strong. Be proud even if you feel like there isn’t a reason to be,”

You knew he was right. Whether you were sad about flushing them, you still got the guts to do it and that’s commendable, you should be proud. You were kicking your ass when you should be happy and feel relief. You shouldn’t be feeling this weight, you shouldn’t be feeling guilty.

You’re growing through what you go through and that deserves a pat on the back.

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

You don’t know how you got here. You went back to school and shit came crumbling down. You were going strong but the weight of responsibility and insecurity became too much. Walking down the fucking halls everyday, comparing yourself to every girl that looked like barbie then going to the bathroom to stare at your reflection and pick yourself apart until the voices became too loud for you to handle so you went to the school plug and slapped money in his hand

“Anything will do,”

After school he came back and handed you a black plastic bag with cheap alcohol in it. You hid in an empty class room and barely drank a quarter of the bottle before you felt sick, like your body was rejecting what you were trying to force down into it.

Your fingers moved faster than your mind, grabbing for your phone and dialing away.

“Hello?,”

You sniffled and held the bottle close to your chest, “Uncle Tony? I- I...,” you hiccuped and hugged the bottle close to your chest, “Uncle Tony, I messed up,”

-----

He was there for you in no time. He knew you wouldn’t want to talk about it but he knew your dad would have to find out about this.

“I don’t wanna go back. I’m done growing through what I grow through, its a crock of shit,” you stared out the window, eyes heavy.

“I know the fight becomes annoying,” Tony sighed, “But from the looks of it, your body has already made a decision for you,”

He was right, a few sips and your body was angry with you. You should be thankful because it didn’t always work like that with other people who were fighting this like you. Others bodies often welcomed such a thing back easily, the bodies of some couldn’t even continue the fight without it before giving out.

“Plus you let someone know, as soon as it happened. Everyone can see your efforts. You may be tired of growing through it but it’s become natural for you and you don’t even realize it, though I can’t blame you. I was the same way,”

He sprinkled that last bit in there like it was a dash of parsley to complete a dish and it had your neck snapping to look at him. “Excuse me?,”

He chuckled and raised his eyebrows all while mumbling “well,” he pulled to a stop light and looked over at you, “I wasn’t always the polished hero I am now,”

He patted your leg in a hopeful manner, “In my days of college, getting drugs was as easy as buying cola from the corner store. Trying to run a company that my dad didn’t really want me to have in the first place to staying up all day everyday to make it through college was bound to get me in some trouble,” the light turned green and he lightly put his foot on the gas to continue the peaceful rid home, “I’d snort some coke to keep me away and focus long enough to study, I thought it was normal because the other students were doing it, until it wasn’t about trying to focus on school anymore. It was about how high I could get and how good I could feel to the point I couldn’t walk out my dorm in the morning for class without rubbing a little on my gums or cutting up a quick line,”

“How’d you kick it?,” You never would have thought he batted such a thing, he changed for the better and picked himself up.

“The nose bleeds. The doctor told me if I didn’t stop I wouldn’t see the day I graduated. Told me I’d never see the day where I became the man I deserved as a role model as a kid. I wanted to be better than him. In a moment of weakness, my recovery was fueled by spite,”

“I guess everyone’s come-to-Jesus meeting is a bit different,” you give a small smile and shrug, “Mine was when Keith practically slapped some sense into me. He’s a kid, who wants their little sibling walking around knowing their older sibling is a fucking fiend?,” you give a harsh scoff and roll your eyes as you feel tears coming, “He didn’t deserve to see me like that, that night- in and out of consciousness, watching them pump me full of coal and other shit to keep me alive, that screwed up his head and he’s barely hit puberty yet,”

Tony could almost hear the tears in your voice, you had your head turned to look out the window, he didn’t need to see your face to know.

“He’s your ticket out of the dark room,”

-----

Your dad didn’t put you back in the rehabilitation center because you owned up to knowing you messed up, because you called someone for help, knowing the slight possibility that you might have gotten a few people upset.

It was all trial and error, a constant fight, day and night even in your moments of shut eye.

It was a learning experience for Sam, it taught him how to be a better dad, taught him that although he can’t go back and change things, he still has now to break habits and form healthy ones and make them the foundation of a healthy relationship between father and child.

He was in your corner and that helped keep your head above water.

Addiction and mental illness were never cut and dry. There’d always be doubts and close calls of near relapse but it was a fight you’d be willing to put up with 24/7.

You never wanted to be back in that dark room of addiction. Driving yourself insane trying to find the next fix so you feel “normal”- but there was nothing normal about forcing yourself to be numb, there was nothing normal about denying you need help. Nothing normal whatsoever about forcing chemicals that could kill you into your body just to be happy.

This, this right here was normal. Feeling pain, fighting, crying, trials, everything that you’re feeling now. Feeling is normal, even if it hurts sometimes.

You’d never stop growing through what you go through, but the fight.. that effort you put in.. it’ll always be worth it.

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

this took so long to write because I was never satisfied with it. I kept editing and erasing and adding more. And here is the finished product. It doesn’t have to resonate with you but here it is. Thank you for the love and support you guys always gift me.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED>

tags: @vozit @blackreaders-assemble @retroxvailles @champangebucky @sambucky8 @princess-toshii @sebbyslut @titty-teetee @ilovefanfic86 @valkyriesnymph @dumbchick @mbaku-babygirl @veryhellshdia @persephones24 @here-for-your-bullshit @mokacoconut @spideys-wife @xye-weirdo @chonisberonica @disaster-rose @micki-smiles @valentinevirgo @yournonlocalpoc @warmchick @hisxblackxqueen

#black!reader #black mcu imagines #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson fic #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x black!reader #sam wilson x you #Tony Stark fanfiction #tony stark fic #Marvel AU #mcu au #avengers au #AVENGERS ANGST #marvel angst #MCU angst #sam wilson angst #tony stark au #tony stark angst

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darth-el · 4 years

Text

You’re So Damn Hypnotised

Pairing: Billy x Reader Warnings: Oh boy where do I start? Drugs (weed and cocaine), alcohol, descriptions of (really bad) sex, underage drinking and just general debauchery because. I’m going to say angst as well and there will most likely be smut in part 2 if you want. Probably going to do a little 18+ warning here as well Song Request: You’ll be Fine - Palaye Royale A/N: This is 5472 words. My longest one to date and I’m nowhere near done so part 2 is heading your way. The song to me felt like it had a seedy undertone to it so this is just pure sleaze on a road trip. I also took another bit of inspiration with the record label stuff from a program called Vinyl as I thought it would work well with this. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcomed. I am also English so I have no idea how long it takes to get from one place to another by road in the USA.

Masterlist

Part 2

Your life in London was fast and energetic. You were the daughter of punks who hung around SEX. After school you always went there and met your parents who would have been smoking joints with the people who turned out to be the punk icons. Your first joint was given to you by Sid Vicious when you were about ten. No one believed that when you told them. Your father started working for a large record label when you were five and transferred to New York when you were fourteen with a seventeen year old. You had never forgiven him for that, your mother blamed you for the end of their relationship which left your relationship with her strained. After your dad left she decided to study science and become a scientist, her logic was “I was good with drugs.” It became even more strained when she announced that you were moving to America as well. You hoped she meant to New York so you could be near your dad. This was not the case at all. She showed you your worst nightmare. It was called Hawkins. This was the America you had seen in films, it tried to be wholesome and patriotic. Within the first night of being there you had already found yourself driving to Indianapolis, but you were stopped when the cops pulled you over saying that the car, (your dad had bought you as a way to say “Welcome to America, I'll be father of the year from a distance”) was stolen. You still hadn't forgiven her for that.

Your first month at school was a whirlwind. Within that month your dad rang you to let you know that he wanted you to drive to LA with a friend, stop over Las Vegas, just because he knew you would like it and see a band he thought was called “Red Peppers” at a club on New Years Eve because he wanted to potentially sign them. It was going to be all expense paid and he was going to send you the money for gas, motels, and anything else you needed. The only problem was you didn't have any friends to go with. That was until one night you got really drunk at Tina's Christmas party. You were always spontaneous. You went to Barcelona with people you met two days before and spent the summer on a house boat with people you had met two hours into arriving in Barcelona. When you came back your mother fell through the floor which you thought was a bit unfair because you left her note. Her argument was that you were sixteen and they were in their twenties. Feeling spontaneous and drunk you ended up finding yourself locked in a bathroom with Billy, you laying in the bath with a joint and a bottle of whiskey you bought yourself, him sitting on the counter next to the sink also with a joint you had rolled for him planning the road trip to LA.

He dropped you off and you pulled him into your house and into your room, which was decorated with photos that gave him a glimpse of your past life. There were a couple that really caught his eye. One of you laying in bed with a lace bra on, red lips, cigarette hanging out of your mouth. Love bites covering your exposed skin as you stared down the lens of the camera. “16th Birthday” There was a little heart next to it which acted like your signature. The other one of you was you sitting on Tommy Lee's lap legs up in the air as you're leaning back laughing holding a bottle of champagne. “Motley Crue – 27/03/83” it read with the little heart on it. He didn't really think much of you at school as you kept your head down and when he did think of you he thought you were an uptight bitch who wasn't interested in him. You made that clear the first day when you were like stone when he hit on you. There was more to you that met the eye. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol but he was intrigued.

The December air was crisp outside. You were hoping LA was going to be warm, you craved the winter sun. You wrapped yourself up in a couple of blankets and made your way downstairs with your suitcases, with Billy's help. You were both drunkenly laughing trying to be quiet and also not trying to fall down the stairs due to the blankets that were wrapped around you. The moon illuminated the street as you walked to Billy's car you were dancing under the light the moon with your blankets still wrapped around you swaying with your movements. For the first time since moving to Hawkins you felt free and alive.

You both started to sober up, by that point it was too late to turn back. You were way into Illinois. Your feet were resting up on the dash you were sunk into your seat with arms resting and hanging over the back of your seat. Billy had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. There was a spark in the air. You looked at Billy whose eyes were stuck on the road. A month ago you were indifferent to him. He thought he was king of the school, he was egotistical. He was charming. He was like every guy you had dated. That's exactly why in your drunken state you chose him for this road trip. There was a comfort in the familiarity. He thought you were unlike anyone he ever met. It was like you were leading this double life. You were hard working at school, and quiet. He didn't realise you had an edge and that edge was sharp and a secret party animal who partied with the best it seemed. He realised when he was sitting in Tina's bathroom you gave him a way to escape from his family, even if it was for just over a week. This was the first time since he was a child that he felt carefree.

After a few hours you both realised you were getting tired and hadn't slept for almost a day. You found an old motel, you didn't know where you were. You didn't even know if you were heading in the right direction but to be honest you didn't care. You could have ended up in Mexico and you would have been happy. If you ended up in Canada you would have be slightly less happy. As you walked to the desk to check in you could tell this was motel was for truckers and affairs. It was musty and looked like it hadn't been decorated since the 1960's and hadn't been cleaned since the 1970's. You didn't care though, you felt an affinity to places like this.

“Room for two?” The girl didn't look up as she was chewing gum and filing her nails.

“You got it doll.” Billy leaned on the desk putting on his award winning charm which made the girl look up at him and as she handed him the key you noticed their hands touched, most likely by design on Billy's part causing her to blush. You rolled your eyes at this as you snatched the key from him as you were getting tired and wanted to sleep and made your way to the room. You opened the door and it was smokey. The walls were a dirty pink, with yellow smoke stains and god knows what else. The bathroom light when you switched it on was buzzing and flickering. Everything in the bathroom was avocado green and also stained with hard water. You were quite shocked there was no mould. You dumped yourself on the bed that you claimed and laid down on it as Billy walked through the door with his luggage and dumping it down next what was going to be his bed for the night. He looked at the TV in the corner which looked like it was from the 1960's and had seen better days. He sat on the edge of his bed and lit up a cigarette and turned on the TV. You walked into the bathroom to get out of your dress from the party and ready to go to sleep as tiredness had washed over you and you wanted to sleep through a potential hangover. You walked out the bathroom wearing nothing but a white loose fitting t-shirt and black panties that were nothing special, but they were comfortable. Billy snapped his eyes off the old black and white television and looked like he was eating you up with his eyes. You sat on you bed and grabbed another cigarette. Before you could even light it yourself Billy had stretched over to you with his lighter aflame ready to light it for you. You smiled at him softly and he matched your smile. You laid back on your bed resting on the headboard watching what was happening on the screen but not really taking it in.

“How long do you think until we get to Vegas?” You asked flicking the ash into the ash tray which was on the table which separated your bed.

“If we're going in the right direction, two days max,” Billy shrugged making himself more comfortable on his bed. When the cigarette had reached the end and you stubbed it out climbed under the blankets. “Do you want me to turn it off?” Billy asked as he went to the grab the control in preparation for the “yes.”

“I like the background noise while I sleep.” You said gently as you yawned and sinking further into the bed. Billy shrugged at this answer and made himself even more comfortable.

You woke up a few hours later with your hangover looming over you. Billy was asleep still as you quietly crept outside hoping there was a convenient store nearby as you had a craving for candy and a slurpee. You asked the girl at the reception if there was a 7/11 nearby, after not getting much of an answer out of her you decide to walk along the empty road in hopes of something that could help with your sugar craving. You gave up after about ten minutes as it was too cold for your liking and you weren't prepared to freeze to death for a slurpee. You walked back to your room to find Billy was in the shower. You plonked yourself down on the bed and deciding to watch the frazzled television. Billy came out of the bathroom not expecting you to be there as he was wrapped in nothing but in a towel. His wet hair clung to his wet skin. You couldn't help but notice the how the water droplets rolled down his chest.

“Bathroom is free if you want it.” He mumbled looking at you, as you looked at him biting you lip. You weren't sure if reality was going to hit you and make you both realise that this was not a good idea or if this would go in a completely direction.

“Thanks,” You slightly shook your head as if to snap yourself out of thought. “By the way it is cold out there.” You looked at him over your shoulder smiling before closing the door behind you. The light was making your headache worse. You turned on the shower and there wasn't much hot water so you had to make do. The lukewarm water was definitely not what you needed after venturing outside. The water started to chuck out cold making you yelp from the shock of it. You heard Billy knock on the door. “Are you okay in there?” He sounded mildly concerned. Partially because if you had slipped over and injured yourself he didn't want to walk in on you naked and potentially covered in blood.

“The water is cold!” You answered back as you tried to manoeuvrer yourself so you could wash your hair without getting too much cold water on you. You finally bit the bullet and plunged yourself fully into the cold water, making you curse like a sailor loudly.

You got out the shower and wrapped the towel around you and made your way into the room where Billy was sitting in his jeans and a white vest smoking a cigarette. You went into your suitcase and pulled out some clothes for the day. You could feel Billy's eyes on you. As you walked back into the bathroom you took Billy's cigarette out from between his lips and started smoking it yourself winking at him before closing bathroom door to get changed. You both decided to check out and make your way to Las Vegas which would probably take another day or so.

You managed to reach Colorado and the scenery was snowy and beautiful. You were once again relaxed in the passenger seat with your Polaroid camera in your lap. You were looking at Billy who was smoking, you never realised how much of a heavy smoker he was.

“Do you want play a game?” You asked breaking the silence.

“What game?” He looked at you like you were interrogating him.

“20 questions,” You sat up so you were kneeling on the seat facing him and you lit up a cigarette and smiled.

“You go first,” His eyes went back to the road sounding unsure about this. You pursed your lips in thought and took a drag of your cigarette.

“First kiss?” You blurted out. He looked at you a bit shocked at how quickly you asked the question, as he shifted in his seat.

“I was 10,” He said nonchalantly hoping that would be it, but he caught you out the corner of his eyes looking at him like you wanted more information. “Her name was Sammy and she was a neighbour who I had crush on.” He confessed quietly.

“I can't imagine you as a child,” You laughed as you exhaled creating smoke rings. This garnered his interest for some reason. “Were you as cocky then as you are now?” You teased making him laugh slightly.

“I was worse, especially after that kiss,” he sighed. You could see that he was slowly becoming more relaxed around you. “What about yours?” He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I was nine or ten,” You sat up slightly to roll the window so you could throw butt of the cigarette out. “We were playing kiss chase. It was so bad. It was literally all teeth.” You laughed at this memory and you could feel the clanking of teeth again which made you cringe in your seat.

“First time?” He asked with a slightly cocky smile on his face.

“It was so bad,” You giggled. “Okay, I was sixteen as was he. I was his first girlfriend and we decided to take the plunge...because his parents were out,” You start laughing even more. “It was awkward, it was painful, and foreplay was not part of his vocabulary. I literally timed him and he lasted for 90 seconds. After that, hearing 'you're so tight' makes me cringe,” You laughed hard and adjusted your position in the seat. “Yours?” You were still laughing as was he.

“Better than yours,” he was laughing at the thought of some fourteen year old boy thinking he was a sex god when in reality the girl was timing him because she wanted it over and done with. “I was sixteen. I was at a party, and I ended up talking to this smoking hot girl,”

“How hot?” You asked curiously.

“Think Brooke Shields, but hotter,” You raised your eyebrows in response partially because you wouldn't have clocked him as a Brooke Shields fan. “She was more experienced, knew what she liked and wasn't afraid to tell me. Turned out all the guys wanted to sleep with her, when they found I did...” His smile was still cocky as he took a drag on his cigarette.

“In came King Billy,” You giggled and he pointed at you with his cigarette and nodded. “Staying on the subjects of firsts, first memory?” You beamed a cheesy smile up at him, not that he was looking.

“I'm not sure how old I was, but I vaguely remember my mom carrying me and we're in our kitchen and she's dancing to Janis Joplin,” He sighed, taking another drag and throwing it out the window. “You?”

“I think it was my parents arguing in the next room over, I always knew when they argued because there were more holes in the wall,” You lit up a cigarette as you sank back into your seat. He stared at you blankly. The way you presented yourself gave him the impression your life was far removed from that. “Eyes on the road Hargrove!” You scolded him with no malicious intent as you thought you were going to crash as you couldn't see properly over the dash.

“The road is empty,” He laughed at your overreaction which made you roll your eyes. He wasn't exactly the safest driver at the best of times. “Worst sex you've had?” He tried to subtly look at you so he wouldn't going to get in trouble again.

“Before I moved here,” You had a think and tapped your chin with your fingers rhythmically. You stared off into the distance and you could see mountains line the horizon. “I slept with a yuppie, like I often did. He was coked up. Like they often were. We get back to his and he is obviously addicted as he can't get it up,” You bit your lips as you were telling this story because you couldn't believe you were telling Billy it.

“Jesus,” Billy laughed loudly.

“There's more,” You matched Billy's laugh somehow.

“More?” Billy sounded shocked at how much worse it could get.

“He goes to the bathroom, and comes back completely naked with a hard on, he does what he needs to do. Until I realise I am fucking numb down there,” Billy's eyes were as wide as dinner plates hearing this.

“Did he-” Billy could barely get his words out.

“Coke on the dick,” You nodded stifling your laugh. “I now need to hear yours to make me feel better.” You teased slightly as you went to take a photo of Billy who was lighting another cigarette.

“Also before I moved to that shithole,” Billy's eyes were glued to the road so he could avoid eye contact. “I met this woman on the beach who was very impressed with my surfing,” He smiled and you looked at him curiously. “She's trying every move in the book to get me back to her place,”

“Something you must have experience in,” You teased and a cigarette packet hit you in the face.

“It worked,” Billy laughed wondering how it worked in hindsight.

“Of course,” You threw the cigarette packet back at him and you felt pleased when it hit him in the face.

“We go back to hers, she's not enthused or anything. It's radio silent. Next thing she is shouting the name 'Will' loudly and the bedroom door opens and it's her boyfriend who chases me out of the house.” You burst out laughing at this which made you feel better about your own bad experience. You pull a pen out of your jacket pocket and scribbled “20 Questions – 23/12/84” and put your signature heart on it. He watched you curiously.

The rest of the journey involved you and him talking about childhood memories. Both the good and bad, funny sex stories, and comparing arrests. It shocked him that you had been arrested more than him. He started to realise you were not who he expected. You were mysterious, you were spontaneous, and he was actually enjoying your company. He wanted to know everything about you. You were sitting way down in your seat with your legs now hanging out of the window when the car started to overheat making Billy pull over so it could cool down. You were sitting on the opposite side of the empty road to him watching him as he smoked a cigarette with his sunglasses on and leaning against the car with foot resting on it. He was in his leather jacket and a white shirt. The sun was beating down on him. He almost looked like James Dean, if James Dean had a mullet or was an 80's icon. You took a photo of him without him realising. His mind elsewhere. You walked over to him smiling with the photo that was slowly developing and you leaned on the roof of the car and grabbed a pen out of your jacket pocket. “Somewhere in the Nevada Desert – 24/12/84” it read with the heart next to it. Billy looked at you and held out his hand as if he was asking for the camera. You handed it to him feeling slightly confused. “Hood,” He stated not making the confusion go away as he pulled it closed so you could sit on it. “Any damage, you're paying for it,” He helped you climb on which was difficult as your dress didn't allow any room for any serious movement. The moment he put the camera to his face your inner model came out. “Stay there.” He instructed as he went to the car to get more film. When he came back he started to take more photos of you while you more natural. You slid off the hood and walked over to him and rested your chin on his shoulder as you watched the photos develop. It was the natural ones that caught your eye more than anything.

“Not bad Hargrove.” You smiled up at him. Your favourite one was of you laughing and moving your hair out of your face, that was the one you decided you had to keep. Billy kept one of you looking seductive which did not surprise you in the least.

Once you were back in the car and driving you still had your legs hanging out the window. You took a photo of your legs which once the photo had developed you saw that there was cactus in the background as well which made happy. You titled it “Hawkins to LA – 24/12/84”. You looked up at Billy who was focused on the road. “How much longer?” You asked watching him, he looked down at you now focusing on your intently smiling.

“Between 20 minutes and three hours.” He laughed as you took a photo of him. You decided to title it “Between 20 minutes and 3 hours – 24/12/84”.

WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS population 530,000 the sign read as you drove past it. The sun had set and the lights and noise overstimulated the senses. You hung out of the car window taking a photo of the road ahead. You ducked back into the car and named the photo “population 530,000 - 24/12/84” Everything was garish and tacky. You instantly knew why it was called Sin City. You both found a cheap hotel which was just off the strip. The hotel looked like it was the place CEOs took their mistresses when they wanted to hide their affairs. Your room only had a double bed much to your annoyance. The air smelt of the pheromones left behind by the last people. Billy was fearful of what he was going to find in this room and in the bathroom. You felt at ease here. You were getting slightly worried about why you felt so at home in these crappy motels. You dumped your bags down and made your way to the bathroom so you could brush your teeth before you hopped in the shower.

“You ever been to a strip club?” You smiled at Billy leaning against the door frame as you brushed your teeth.

“Why do you ask?” He sounded somewhat defensive. He felt somewhat embarrassed because one thing this road trip had taught him so far was that you were two steps above him when it came to sex and anything debauched. No one had given him a run for his money like you had. As you walked into the bathroom to spit the toothpaste out he followed you and leaned against the door frame himself. He was deep in thought and was also transfixed on your ass.

“Great, neither have I,” You said as you noticed Billy in the mirror staring at your ass. “Oi Hargrove!” You shouted trying to get his attention. “Are you listening or ya too busy staring at my arse.” You realised how much your London accent came out then and it snapped Billy out of his train of thought and made him decide to stand next to you by the sink. He was towering above you and you could smell the cigarettes on him and his lingering cologne. Your breath hitched slightly when you realised how close he was to you.

“It's just too distracting.” He had his charming smile on his face making you push him away playfully.

“Well I'm going for a shower.” You looked up him trying to show that you were not amused, but you felt a smile creep along your face. He took that as his cue to leave.

The shower was hot, this was the first hot shower you had since you had been on this road trip. Midway through shampooing your hair you realised the towels were on the bed. “Fuck,” You muttered to yourself leaning your forehead against the tiled wall which was covered in mildew, immediately washed your face as you remembered how vile the wall was. You could hear the television on in room. “Billy!” You called waiting for an answer. No answer. You decided to finish up quickly. You opened the door which got Billy's attention. “I need a towel.” You sighed poking your head around the door.

“Want it?” Billy smirked at you. “You'll have to come and get it,” He teased. You felt yourself becoming annoyed by this.

“Unless you want me to kill you in your sleep pass me the towel,” You said holding your arm out and as he passed you the towel.

“You wouldn't dare.” He winked at you which made you hit him with the towel.

“Watch me.” You grinned at him as you wrapped yourself up and continued to get ready.

He thought you looked like an angel amongst sinners in your white dress as you danced up the street on the way to the bar. You spun around a lamppost as he took a photo of you and put it in his jeans pocket. You pulled him down a side road to the bar your dad told you about when you spoke to him, he had also given you a strip club recommendation as well which made you laugh. The bar inside was filled with purple neon lights and “fire pits”. You walked over to the bar and looked at the cocktail menu which made Billy laugh because he didn't peg you as cocktail drinker. “What can I get you darling?” The barmaid smiled at Billy who instantly turned on the charm with her.

“What would you recommend doll?” He leaned on the bar smirking. You could feel something brewing in your stomach.

“I am personally a vodka drinker.” The barmaid giggled touching his arm.

“Then I'll have a vodka,” Billy smiled at her before turning back to you who was still looking at the menu.

“I'll have a screaming orgasm.” You said smiling at the barmaid trying to hide your irritation due to Billy's antics.

“If you wanted one of those all you had to do was ask princess.” Billy teased which made you hit him with the menu. You both got up and made your way to a booth with a fire pit waiting for the waitress to bring the drinks over to you. You admired your surroundings, it was just as garish inside as it is outside.

The night went on and you ended up with a tab of $40 worth of drinks at that bar. You grabbed Billy's hand as you left the bar and led him to the strip club. You awere both fuelled with alcohol and as you led him to the club you felt the ground under your feet become no more as he picked you up over his shoulder making you laugh loudly. You were also kicking him to get free as you wanted to be back on solid ground and not facing it.

The strip club was pink and fluffy with a stage in the middle of it with the bar surrounding it. There was a dancer all in leather dancing around a pole and booths against the wall, some with tables and poles coming out of them so the dancers could dance on them. Apart from the dancers you were the only girl there. The rest were men in suits leering at the dancers throwing their money in balls so it could reach the stage. You remembered you were going to give Billy half the money you bought out that night like you agreed, courtesy of your dad and handed it to him before you both ordered your drinks and made yourself comfortable in some seats next to each other. Almost instantly a blonde dancer came over to him and asked if he wanted a lap dance. He accepted and he looked like he was enjoying himself. You enjoyed the show in front of you until a black haired dancer walked over and asked if you wanted one. You nodded. She was beautiful, you weren't sure if you wanted to be her or be on her. After she had finished you offered to buy her a drink which she happily accepted. You found out her name was Sapphire and she had been dancing for six months at this club. You also found out she was studying psychology in California.

“Is that guy your boyfriend?” Sapphire asked sipping her drink nodding her head to Billy who was standing behind you talking to the blonde dancer.

“No,” you smiled as you took a sip from your drink. “We're just friends.”

“The way he's staring at you says otherwise,” Sapphire giggled as she looked like she had an idea come over. She asked the barmaid if she had a pen and grabbed your hand and wrote something on it.

“I finish at two.” She smiled as she finished the last of her drink and you looked behind you as she walked off and she started whispering something to the dancer who was talking to Billy and they both walked off. You looked at what she wrote on your hand and it was an address of a bar and the time “2:30am”. Billy walked over to you looking pretty pleased with himself. You finished your drinks and to find your way to the next bar.

The morning after you woke up trying to recall the events of the night before. You felt stirring next to you and you find Sapphire who's name was actually Jessica, the dancer who you found out was called Ana cuddling Sapphire and Billy asleep next to Ana. All of you were still wearing the clothes from the night before. You saw Polaroids scattered on the floor next to your bed and there was one of you in the bathroom of the bar making out with Jessica as you sat on the sink. You realise it was Ana who took this photo. You reached over everyone and grabbed a cigarette packet which were on Billy's side of the bed and lit up a cigarette. You saw another one of you dancing on a table in your lingerie which you don't remember. There was also one of you talking to Ana next to a fire which was at a rooftop bar titled“Feeling At Home and Limitless – 24/12/84” with a small “B” next to it. You let out a small chuckle at this. You felt a stir coming from Billy's side of the bed as he sat up and lit up a cigarette himself.

“Merry Christmas.” You giggled quietly so you didn't wake up the other girls.

“Merry Christmas.” He sighed as he exhaled the smoke smiling at you.

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things 2 #ST2 #Billy Hargrove #Billy Hargrove x Reader #Stranger Things Fic #Billy Hargrove Fic #Billy Hargrove x You #Stranger Things x You #Stranger Things x Reader

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yellowcanna · 4 years

Text

Dazai’s 10 Steps Guide to a Successful Marriage

Summary:

Step 1: Isolate your potential wife from his friends and cause mistrust to develop between them.

Step 2: Set up potential wife so he gets backstabbed by his friends (literally).

Step 3: Invite potential wife to your organization run by your child-loving boss.

Step 4: Gets pulverized and spend the next three months in the hospital bed while potential wife went underground.

Step 5: Secretly observes potential wife from afar for three years behind your lolicon boss’s back.

Step 6: Defect from pedophile boss’s organization.

Step 7: Find an Ability user that can turn people into cats for 24 hours.

Step 8: Get potential wife to adopt you on Christmas Eve.

Step 9: Make hot passionate love to potential wife throughout Christmas until he forgets about murdering you.

Step 10: Bribery is the key to a happy marriage.

Rating: 18+

Genre: Yaoi (Boy love), fluff

Pairing: Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya)

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

Status: Complete (one-shot)

Warning: Story contains mature content.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Merry Christmas, Chuuya-kun!”

The elderly man and the small woman waved from the doorway of Uzumaki café as the boy with pumpkin orange hair headed into the cold night carrying multiple bags in his arms.

The youth waved back to his boss and co-worker before continuing his way down the street. There was a faint smile lifting the corner of his lips as he glanced down at the bags. One was filled with presents while the others were leftovers from the party.

Nakahara Chuuya didn’t like Christmas.

Whenever he thought back to Christmas, he would remember his time back in the Sheep. They had been like family to him and were the only people he had ever celebrated Christmas with—at least as far as his memory goes.

Now, those sweet memories left a bitter taste in his mouth—mocking his naivety and his inability to lead them.

The young man stared at the people passing by. They all come in pairs or groups, all of them wearing happy smiles on their faces as they chattered excitedly.

He was the only one walking alone.

Despite how late it was, the festive lights were still on, illuminating the entire street and filling it with warmth.

The redhead blinked when something white and fluffy drifted by his eyes. He gazed up at the gray cloud covering the sky and sees snowflakes showering down. There were already ten centimeters of snow gathered on the ground from this morning.

According to the weather forecasts, it’ll be snowing all night.

Chuuya lightly tugged down the red blanket scarf wrapped around his neck. He let out a long sigh, watching as his warm breath faded into the cold.

And that was when he heard a strange sound...

“…ew…”

The redhead froze in his step and looked around. He glanced at the nearby people, then to the stores, wondering if he had heard wrong. Just as he was about to continue walking, he heard it again.

“…meep…”

It sounded like a soft squeak, similar to a mouse…except it sounds very hoarse…painful even.

Chuuya furrowed his brows as he looked around, certain that he wasn’t imagining it. He peeked into the alleyway next to him, eyes scanning over the ground until he saw a small bump moved beneath the snow.

He walked over, shadows shrouding his body as he entered the cold and lonely alleyway. Crouching down next to that small bump, he reached out and carefully brushed some snow away. The snow fell off, revealing sleek black fur as the thing shifts again.

“Mew…” The voice was much clearer at this distance.

Immediately recognizing what this sound was, Chuuya hurriedly brushes the rest of the snow away, revealing a black cat buried underneath.

“What the fuck?!” Chuuya drops his bags as he stares at the cat weakly clawing at a red collar tied around its neck. No, rather than saying it was tied, it was more like strangle.

“Muraaah…!” The cat let out a high pitched whine.

“What sick bastard did this?” Chuuya growled angrily as he gathered the cat into his arms. The poor thing was shivering badly and despite how much pain it must be in, it still tried to wiggle away from him. Chuuya looked over the collar only to find that whichever bastard did this had put a lock on it so that the collar can’t be taken off.

Reaching into his pocket, Chuuya pulled out a flip knife. Very carefully, he slid the sharp blade under the collar. With a flick of his wrist, the blade cut through the leather and sliced it apart. With the collar gone, the cat stopped struggling and became slack in his arms, as if it didn’t have any more energy to move.

Chuuya swore under his breath as he pocketed his knife. He pulled his scarf off, carefully wrapping it around the cat before taking his bags and ran for the animal clinic down the street.

When Chuuya arrived, the place was closed with a note taped on the glass doorway stating that the clinic will be closed for both Christmas Eve and Christmas.

The redhead stared at the note for a long time before gazing down at the bundle in his arms, lost on what to do now. Could he go to a hospital? But do hospitals even look at animals?

Chuuya looked down at the tiny thing in his arms. When he saw how badly the cat shivering, Chuuya quickly made up his mind. He darted into an alleyway. For the first time in a while, he activated his power. Hugging the bundle close to his body, he flew off into the sky and head home at a records’ time.

He entered his apartment through the balcony, afraid of getting seen by other tenants and the landlord, as this place didn't allow animals. Once inside, Chuuya put the bags down and shrugged off his jacket. For the first time, he doesn’t bother properly hanging it on the hangers and just tosses it onto the wooden floor.

With great care, he sets the wrapped up cat onto his bed before going to change. He stripped himself of his clothes, leaving only a pair of navy blue boxer briefs on as he grabbed a red sweater from his drawer. This sweater is one of the ones he often wears indoor. The sweater was twice his size, falling down just a little above his knees and covering up his underwear. The collar was so wide it slid down to the side, revealing his sharp collarbone and left shoulder.

Walking back to the bed, he gently unwraps the scarf, revealing the cat nested inside. He picked the poor thing up and carefully tucked it under his sweater. He pressed the cold body of the cat against his chest, pulling down his own collar until the cat’s tiny head was poking out with air to breathe. After that, Chuuya sat down on his bed, wrapping himself and the cat in the thick duvet.

Sapphire blue eyes stared into the darkness of his room, then to the large window beside him showcasing the lights and people outside. The merry atmosphere out there was very different than his room. A small sigh left his lips as he felt a strange emptiness trying to eat him away from within.

Ever since leaving the Sheep, this emptiness has never been filled up again. Despite how he has a well-paid job and a place to call home, something was still missing—like a place of belonging.

It was really strange. This place was his home, so shouldn’t this be where he belonged?

Chuuya’s brows furrow when that irritating face half wrapped in bandages flickered across by his mind for the umpteenth times today. He clicked his teeth as he recalled the conversation he had with one of the Armed Detective Agency members at the Christmas party.

“Dazai Osamu?” The blond man with glasses—Kunikida he believed was called—looked at him in confusion and suspicion. “That youngest Port Mafia executive? I heard he defected from the Port Mafia three months ago. The entire Port Mafia is on a manhunt for him right now.”

“That bandaged moron.” Chuuya couldn't help but rant. What is that moron thinking, defecting from the Port Mafia when he was so weak and useless? Did he really think he could survive Port Mafia’s wrath?

Chuuya leaned against the headboard of his bed and looked down at the cat pressed against his body. Occasionally, his fingers would lightly brush by the cat’s nape, over the area where the collar had been choking it.

The cat’s shivering lessened considerably, but it still looked so weak that Chuuya was afraid it might break if he tightened his hold by the tiniest bit.

As Chuuya tried to adjust the cat’s position to see if he could make it more comfortable, the creature’s eyes snapped open.

“…!” Chuuya was taken back at first by those eyes that were suddenly staring up at him. Then, he soon found himself drowning within those pools of warm, hazel brown eyes. Under the faint light of the window, Chuuya could clearly see his own reflection within those bright pair of eyes, shining in the darkness like jewels.

Those were arguably the most beautiful eyes Chuuya has ever seen. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He didn’t know what came over him, but as if love at first sight, he dipped his head and places a kiss upon that furry little head—right between those soft ears.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” Chuuya greeted, chuckling at how those wide brown eyes blinked back at him.

Chuuya smiled and tilted his head to the side, mimicking the cat’s movement.

The cat blinked…then blinked again.

“Meeew~” It called so sweetly as it pressed its tiny head against his collarbone, rubbing up and down as if it knew Chuuya was the one who had saved its life.

Chuuya chuckled at the ticklish feeling as he rubbed the cat’s back under his thick sweater.

“You’re a friendly one.” He noted. After all, the cat was being strangled when he found it in the alley, buried beneath the snow. It would be perfectly normal if this cat developed mistrust towards humans, so Chuuya was a little thrown off by how friendly it was behaving.

“Murao~” The cat mewed adorably, pulling its head back as those large and innocent round eyes gazed up at Chuuya as if the world only consisted of him. It was then that Chuuya heard and felt a rumble from the cat.

That wasn’t part of the cat’s shivers.

That was something else…something coming from that soft stomach pressed against his chest.

“You’re hungry?” Chuuya rubbed the cat’s cheek, earning a delighted purr from the tiny creature. He pushed off the duvet and climbed off the bed. Holding the cat close, he went over to his fridge, opening it up and was unsurprised by the emptiness. He rarely brought home anything to eat after all, and he never got around to improve his culinary skills.

Chuuya looked at the time. Usually, a convenience store would be open at this hour, but considering how it’s Christmas Eve…

“That’s right!” Chuuya ran over to his bags, looking through them until he found the large sushi platter from the party.

“Cat eats fish right?” Chuuya guessed, pulling the lid open as he took a piece of salmon sashimi and held it up to the cat’s mouth.

The cat—with light shivers still wrecking its body—weakly opened its jaw.

Chuuya pushed the salmon in a little, but when he saw how much the cat seemed to be struggling just to bite down, he knew this wouldn’t work.

The cat made an extremely pitiful sound that nearly broke his heart. Feeling another hungry growl from the cat, Chuuya decided to try another way. He took another sashimi—tuna this time—and put it into his mouth. He chewed carefully, mincing the meat with his teeth before pulling a little from his mouth and rolled it into a ball with his fingers.

The cat watched him attentively, large ears flicking and whiskers trembling lightly. With the cat’s body against his, Chuuya could feel how those muscles were tensing up. When Chuuya looked down he could see what he could only call anticipation within those large eyes.

Chuuya arched an eyebrow, but didn’t think too much into and held the minced meat against the cat’s muzzle. The black cat opened its jaw, allowing Chuuya to put the food in. The redhead watched as that small pink tongue curled around the tuna, and in a blink of an eye, it was gone.

The cat had swallowed it.

A light purr escaped its throat as the cat rubbed its face against Chuuya’s neck.

“Good boy.” Chuuya praised and giving an encouraging rub on the back of the cat’s ear. The cat seemed even more happy as he rubbed harder against the redhead. Smiling, Chuuya grabbed the sushi platter and went back to his bed so he could wrap them both up again.

Just like this, he fed the cat little by little—with patience he didn’t even know he had.

This went on for about an hour.

By then, pretty much all the raw fish in the platter were gone and the cat gained a small bump in its soft stomach. In between meals, Chuuya also made sure the cat got hydrated by dipping his fingers into a cup of water and letting the cat lick off them.

Now, the black cat was laid against him, eyes closed into comfortably slits with a low purr rumbling from its soft body that felt warm now.

Chuuya was smiling as he massaged the cat’s head. He sat like that for a long while, enjoying the tiny warmth against his chest when the cat moved. Not expecting the little one’s sudden movement, Chuuya wasn’t able to react in time and could only watch as the cat slipped out from beneath his sweater and into the duvet.

Chuuya pulled the duvet apart, looking around before realizing that the cat was one the floor, standing in the middle of his room. Its long sleek tail was swishing back and forth as the cat surveyed his room curiously.

"Yeah, I don't have much around here," Chuuya leaned back against the headboard as he also looked around his room.

The redhead wasn’t joking when he said he didn’t have much. In his apartment, there was only his bed, a drawer, a nightstand, and some kitchen utensils. He didn't even have a table or chair where he could sit and eat on.

“Come here.” Chuuya extended his arms to the cat. He hadn’t expected the cat to jump into his arms, but it did.

When he caught the furry bundle pouncing at him, Chuuya felt the place that had been empty for so long feeling…full. He buried his face into the soft fur and inhaled the clean, minty scent on the cat.

It was odd.

Chuuya briefly wondered if this cat has gotten a bath before it was dumped out the street, but if someone was going to torture this cat, would they bath it first? Chuuya frowned, but he soon tossed the question aside, as it wasn’t important anymore.

What's important was that this cat was here within his arms.

“Hey…do you want to live with me from now on?” He asked despite knowing that the cat wouldn’t be able to understand him. He never expected an answer. Perhaps he had only asked just to make himself feel better for him selfishly deciding to keep this beautiful creature with him in this confined space. His landlord didn't allow animals, but perhaps Chuuya could talk to them into it. Worst case scenario, he could always look for a new place—one that allowed pets.

When Chuuya felt a warm lick against his chin, he looked down at the cat in surprise.

“Mew~” It meowed, blinking those large eyes at him before bumping its head against his cheek.

The warmth in his chest blossomed as Chuuya laughed and kissed the cat.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Meow!”

Hugging the cat tighter, Chuuya jumped off the bed with his heart feeling so full that he could burst at any moment.

“I’m still working my way around this place.” He told the creature that would now become part of his family—his only family.

“After one more paycheck, I’ll be able to get a TV.” Chuuya gestured to the empty spot on the other side of the room. “That might give you something to do when I’m off at work. And then I’m thinking of putting a table right in the middle here.” He gestured to the middle of the room—between his bed and where he envisioned the TV to be.

“A small wine cellar would be nice, but I don’t have that kind of room or the money.” Chuuya laughed lightly before remembering something crucial. “And channels…I guess I need to pay for that, huh?"

Chuuya looked down at the cat sitting in his arms. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought the cat understood him with how it looked to all the areas Chuuya was pointing out in his speech.

“I need to give you a name.” Chuuya lifted the cat up so that their eyes were leveled. He stared into those beautiful brown eyes that stared back at him. “I’ll call you…Mackerel, how’s that?”

The cat visibly froze.

Three whole seconds later, it trashed in his hold, jumping out of his arms and making a run for it.

“Hey! Mackerel!”

Chuuya tried to catch the cat, but it was surprisingly agile. Anyone that sees the cat now wouldn’t be able to guess that it was half dead just an hour ago. Chuuya had heard of how moody cats were, and it looked like it was true. His apartment wasn’t even that big, but he just couldn’t catch the tiny thing no matter how hard he tried.

It was as if the cat knew exactly what he was going to do with how it easily avoided him.

The cat gracefully dodged another one of the human’s attempts to catch it and dove under the bed.

"Shit!" Chuuya cursed when he heard the sound of something being knocked down. He looked beneath his bed and just like he thought, the documents he had stacked there were scattered everywhere.

He pulled out all the documents, looking through the pages as he began to organize them.

“Meep…?” Hearing that soft voice, Chuuya glanced over his shoulder to see a small black head poking out from beneath his bed. By how those eyes blinked up at him, it apparently knew it had done something bad.

Chuuya had to suppress the urge to laugh as he pretended to be mad and continued sorting out the papers.

Feeling a small nudge at his side, he stopped and looked down to see the cat sitting there with a piece of paper in its mouth. Chuuya’s heart nearly melted at the way those large watery eyes looked at him. It was as if those tears swelling within those eyes would fall the moment Chuuya choose to continue the silent treatment.

Chuuya took the paper carefully from the cat’s mouth, setting it aside before pulled the cat onto his lap.

“I’m not angry.” He whispered, lightly kissing its head before going back to arrange the papers.

For the past years, he had read these files over and over, to the point where he could remember them by heart, so sorting them back in order wasn’t much of a task.

“These are all information about me," Chuuya explained to the little creature despite knowing it wouldn’t understand. He just felt the need to say this out loud, to tell someone or something instead of keeping it bottled up inside him. “I was a government experiment...these are all important documents about my past.”

“Mew?” The cat leaned forward and pawed at the paper.

Chuuya chuckled as he took the paper out of the cat’s reach, slipping the last sheet back into the thick folder.

“A bandage bastard sent them to me.” He said. Despite his words, there was no harshness in his tone at all.

He picked up a yellow sticky note that had long lost the stickiness—prove of how often it has been taken off and held.

On the note, it said; “These will be the last ones.”

Chuuya slipped the sticky note into the folder and shoved the documents into a corner. He’ll have to find a new place to hide these—preferably a place where the cat won’t be able to knock over.

“Really…where the hell is that bastard.” He muttered while absentmindedly stroking the cat. “Running from the Port Mafia…he’s so stupid, isn’t he?”

The cat leaned its entire body against Chuuya’s touch. Chuckling deeply, Chuuya looked up at the clock to see that there were only five minutes until midnight—until Christmas.

“That’s right!” Chuuya jumped up as he thought of something good. He the cat in his arm, he walked over to his jacket lying on the floor. He reached into the pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He never had any interest in taking pictures, so his photo gallery was completely empty.

The first picture with such an adorable companion would be perfect for Christmas.

Chuuya looked around his dim and plain room before he decided to head out the balcony. But before he did, he made sure to wrap that cat back up in his scarf, fearing it would get cold. He made sure to wrap the cat up nicely and tied a little bow behind its neck.

When he emerged into the chilly air, Chuuya was greeted by the bright light from the lively street below.

“Come on.” Chuuya tapped on his phone screen to flip the camera around. After finding the perfect angle, he held the camera over himself and leaned his head towards the black cat.

Chuuya felt a warm tongue, gliding against his cheek just as he hit the button.

Snap

The redhead looked down at his phone. The warmth in his chest has now become molten lava, bubbling with joy inside him as he stared at the picture of himself and the cat licking him. He turned and rewarded the cat with another kiss when something caught the corner of his eyes.

He looked over and right there, at the corner of his balcony, was a small box wrapped in red decorating paper with green ribbons.

“Where did this come from?” He wondered, picking up the box and looking around. His apartment was on the fourth floor, there was no way anyone would throw this up to his balcony. Could it have been dropped from the upper floors?

“I’ll put it at the lobby tomorrow, maybe someone would find it.” He told the cat as he returned back into his apartment. He made sure to lock the patio doors, as it would be bad if Mackerel decides to sneak out during the night and possibly fall to his death.

He left the tiny present on the nightstand before sitting back onto his bed and wrapped them both up again.

He looked down at his phone.

11:59 pm.

“Merry Christmas, Mackerel.”

Chuuya kissed the cat’s wet little nose.

12:00 am.

A burst of light suddenly erupted from the black cat, illuminating the entire room as Chuuya snapped his head to the side and shut his eyes. His eyeballs were stinging with pain and even with his eyelids down, he could see still blinding light.

“Mackerel?!” He gasped in surprise when the furry body in his arm began to expand.

Chuuya could feel the way those soft furs melted away under his hand, turning into something smooth and supple—like skin.

Human skin.

The redhead gasped as he fell back onto the bed with something heavy pressing him down. Despite not being able to see, Chuuya’s reflex kicked in.

His hand curled into a tight fist as his Ability activated, coating his body in crimson light. He hurled his fist forward, about to smash whoever that dared to assault him right through the roof when his wrist was snatched by a hand. Chuuya could feel where each individual finger was wrapped around his skin. With a swift push, the path of his punch was redirected, making him miss his target and touching nothing but air.

However, that wasn’t what shocked Chuuya.

What surprised him was how the moment that hand touched him, his Ability had deactivated. Chuuya has only ever encountered his power deactivated like this once, and it was by that person. Blue eyes snapped open just as the blinding light faded away, allow darkness to swallow the room once more.

“My, my, is that how you greet me after all these years? I’m hurt, chibi~” That singsong voice teased before Chuuya’s lips were captured by something warm and soft.

It took Chuuya three full seconds to react.

When he did, his first reaction was to shout, forgetting the lips molded against his own. This action only got him a mouthful of the other man’s hot tongue as it slithered deep into the cavern of his mouth and began exploring every nook and corner.

“Hmph!” Chuuya writhed as the man’s body pressed down on his. Both of his wrists were caught by large boney hands, pinning them beside his head as that skillful tongue worked its way around his mouth.

The redhead’s struggles gradually weakened.

It felt so good…

His mind was getting hazy…

Having never had any sexual intercourse before, it was only natural for him to feel so excited. He was eighteen where hormones were at the worst. The only thing he ever had to get himself off was his hands and a bottle of lube. It was normal that he would become sexually frustrated and thirsting for the body of another.

Chuuya found himself melting under the brunet’s touch. A twist of that skillful tongue earned a deep moan from him. Before he knew it, Chuuya began to kiss back. He pushed forward, deepening their kiss and was rewarded with a low growl from the body against his.

And then…

Chuuya bit down on the tongue inside his mouth.

Hard.

The redhead swallowed the man’s muffled hiss of pain and tasted the coppery blood dripping into his mouth. He raised his right foot—biting even harder on that bleeding appendage to prevent the man from pulling away. Just as he was about to thrust his foot at the man’s abdomen, the body above him suddenly grounded down his hips down.

The heated sensation of their hard members rubbed against one another, separated only by the thin fabric of his cotton boxer, reminding Chuuya of how naked the man above him was.

“Ah!” Chuuya mewled, his body trembling hard at the spike of pleasure that shot throughout his body like electricity.

The man took this opportunity to pull his tongue out of the danger zone and used his knee to pin down his raised leg.

“Tsk…as expected of a dog.” The dark brown-haired youth winced, licking his lips that were stained by a couple of drops of his own blood. Despite getting bitten, there were no signs of anger anywhere on the brunet’s face. If anything, the smile on those lips and the glint in those chocolate brown eyes revealed that the man was amused by redhead’s action.

“What the fuck—Dazai?!” Chuuya snarled, glaring up at that face he had never once forgotten for the past three years. Except this time, Dazai Osamu wasn’t wearing that stupid bandage over his right eye.

His face was fully uncovered…as well as the rest of his body.

“You were Mackerel?!”

Dazai’s eyelid visibly jumped at the name.

“I must applaud you on your naming sense. Who names their cat after a fish?” Dazai mused, rolling his hip again as Chuuya choked.

“Get off me you creep!”

“Get off? But Chuuya~!” Dazai called, stretching out Chuuya’s name in a high pitched whine. “You were the one hugging me, feeling all over my body and kissing me!”

“Y-you were a cat!” Chuuya spluttered. “Now get off me before I make you!”

“Oh? Are you sure you want me to get off when you’re like this?” Dazai smirked, grinding his hip down again as Chuuya bit the inside of his cheek to squash down a moan.

Dazai chuckled darkly as he set a slow and torturous pace. He kept the redhead’s hands and legs pinned down, staring at the beautiful redhead, drinking in every little reaction on that expressive face.

“B-bastard…why are you here?” The redhead panted weakly, sapphire eyes glaring up at the brunet. Unfortunately for Chuuya, he has no idea how delicious he looked with those flushed cheeks and lust swimming in those watery blue eyes.

Dazai had to swallow a mouthful of saliva to moisten his dry throat. His grinding gotten just a tad harder, causing the body beneath him to tremble.

“If I remembered correctly,” Dazai smirked, “you were the one who invited me to live with you from now on.”

“I-I told you that was—hya!” Chuuya jolted when the other ground his hip down particularly hard. “You shitty—nngh!”

Those lips were back down again, shifting and moving against his as if trying to fuse them into one. This time Dazai knew better than to stick his tongue into his mouth again, but that didn’t mean the man couldn’t get a nice reaction out of him.

The ex-Mafia was so skilled with his lips that it pissed Chuuya off for some reason. At the same time, the kiss was also enough to turn his limbs into jelly.

He didn’t know when Dazai had lifted his hips up.

He didn’t know when Dazai had pulled his underwear off.

All he knew was the burning sensation of their cocks pressing firmly against one another as Dazai laid down on him.

It was hot.

So hot that Chuuya felt like he will suffocate if Dazai didn’t get off him soon.

“…Why are you here, Dazai?” Chuuya moaned once their kiss broke, connected only by a thin thread of saliva.

Dazai looked down at the ravished looking redhead under him. His cock jumped at the gorgeous sight.

“Maybe because I missed you?” The man mumbled so softly that Chuuya almost failed to hear.

“You barely know me.” He countered, though his voice might have come out just as soft.

“Hmm…perhaps.” Dazai buried his face into the shorter male’s neck. He nuzzled the nook of that beautiful neck before he began nipping the elastic skin. “But Chuuya’s been thinking about me as well, haven’t you? Otherwise, you could easily throw me off and kill me by now.”

The body under him stiffened, but Dazai pretended not to notice and continued to shower the neck with kisses and bites.

“Why did you send those to me?” Chuuya asked after a while, unconsciously tilted his head to the side to give Dazai more space to map out his neck.

“Whatever do you mean?” Dazai hummed, his voice sending a wave of vibration across into the redhead’s skin, which then traveled throughout his body.

“You know what…” Chuuya shivered, his breathing became uneven from the brunet’s ministration. “Those documents…nh…what the hell are you up to?”

“Maybe to gain Chuuya’s trust?” Dazai replied though it sounded more like another question rather than an answer.

Chuuya opened his mouth, wanting to ask more, but Dazai lost interest in the questioning game. The brunet leaned up, capturing the redhead’s delectable lips and rolled his hips, rewarding their neglected cocks some delicious frictions.

“Aaaah…!” Chuuya threw his head back as a long squeal slipped out of his parted mouth.

“You're as gorgeous as I remembered," Dazai whispered in between kisses as he began to devour the redhead’s mouth.

Chuuya groaned when Dazai’s tongue wormed into his mouth again. He could taste the metallic scent of blood filling his mouth, courtesy of his bite. However, Chuuya couldn’t find it in himself to care. He didn’t know what exactly his feelings towards Dazai were all these years.

He doubted it was something as sappy as love.

Chuuya closed his eyes and leaned up to deepen the kiss. As if knowing he wouldn’t attempt to beat him anymore, Dazai released his wrists and the redhead wrapped his arms around his neck, bringing him down for a deeper connection.

Their hips rubbed desperately against one another as deep moans filled the small room.

“I’ll kill you if you’re not a good fuck.” Chuuya threatened, sapphire blue eyes glaring daggers at the man hovering over him once their lips left one another.

“My…that’s the most beautiful love confession I’ve ever heard.” Dazai smiled—almost sincerely—taking one of Chuuya’s hands and bringing it up so that his lips could glide across those knuckles.

“I bet you’ve never gotten any.” Chuuya rolled his eyes.

“I have.”

“Hah?!” Chuuya blinked up at Dazai in disbelieve.

“Oya~?” Dazai tilted his head as amusement flashed across his eyes. “Is Chuuya jealous?”

“As if!” Chuuya snapped. “I was just wondering what kind of idiot would confess to you.”

“I’m quite handsome Dazai shamelessly praised himself as he hooked a finger over the collar of Chuuya’s red sweater. Pulling down the clothing to expose more of the redhead’s skin, he dipped his head and started making new marks on the new canvas.

Their cocks slid against one another in a slow and sensual dance that was driving him crazy. Chuuya’s hands flew to Dazai’s shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. He did not pull Dazai closer, nor did he push him away. He just held onto him, breathing hard as the brunet slowly unraveled him.

It was only when Chuuya heard the sound of something sliding open that his eyes cracked open. He didn’t even know he had closed them. Ignoring the mouth sucking below his jaw, Chuuya turned to see a sly hand slipping out of his drawer with a pink bottle of lube.

The movement was so swift and natural that Chuuya would have thought this was the bastard’s apartment, not his.

“HEY! How did you know where I kept the lube?!” Chuuya demanded as Dazai lifted himself off the redhead. The brunet knelt over him, giving Chuuya the perfect view of that impressive cock, making Chuuya’s face flare up with heat.

“Is Chuuya enjoying the view?” Dazai smirked when he caught Chuuya eyeing him.

“Like hell!” Chuuya instantly denied, turning his head away as he attempted to lift an arm to hide his blush, only for his wrist to be caught.

“Don’t hide your face from me, Chuuya.” Dazai whispered, his face so close and looking so serious that Chuuya was at loss for what to say.

He didn’t have to dwell on that for long, as the next moment, something cold and wet slithered inside him.

“Hyaaa?!”

“Oh? That’s a lovely sound.” Dazai smirked, curling his finger as the body beneath him jolted.

“Y-y-you—!” Chuuya wanted to cuss at the bastard, but couldn’t form any proper word with the way that skillful finger was moving inside him. It had literally only taken Dazai three seconds to nail down his prostate. How was that even possible?

“Y-you—!” Chuuya tried again, only to bite down on his lower lip, swallowing back a scream when Dazai poked his prostate again.

“You—!”

“Yes, love?” Dazai hummed, slipping his other hand under his sweater and with lotion covering the palm of his hand, he slid his hand across the smooth surface of Chuuya’s body.

Chuuya couldn’t stop the squeal that echoed out of his throat when his nipple was pinched and being rolled around in a teasing manner.

“B-bastard…!”

Dazai chuckled, easily slipping another finger inside as he enjoyed the way Chuuya squirmed. When Dazai started scissoring his finger inside that tight passage, the redhead had to hold back to wince, not wanting to show the other any vulnerability. Unfortunately for him, controlling his facial expressions was never his forte, and Dazai being the master of that easily saw through him.

Hazel brown eyes softened as the fingers inside Chuuya moved more carefully—stretching the redhead with as minimal pain as possible.

The foreplay went on for a long time.

It went for so long that Chuuya felt close to snapping.

While preparing him, their cocks were still pressing against one another, moving slowly with the brunet having full control as he had put a leg over Chuuya to prevent him from taking over. The redhead was forced to only feel as Dazai took control of everything.

Chuuya whimpered as those fingers started rubbing around his prostate in circles. It was as if the bastard was purposely stringing him along, giving him just enough so his erection wouldn’t go down, but not enough for him to be able to cum.

After another ten minutes of this delicious torture, Chuuya was certain the jerk was playing with him. Dazai was trying to make him take the initiative. Chuuya didn’t know why, but he couldn’t care anymore.

He was too frustrated to care.

Chuuya grabbed Dazai and with a burst of strength, he threw the brunet onto the bed and straddled his hips.

Blue eyes filled with lust stared down at the brunet who looked way more comfortable than the redhead would have liked. Those large hands grabbed the redhead’s small hips, trying to guide him to that swollen cock.

Chuuya scoffed and batted the man’s hands-off. He breathed heavily as he lifted himself and took Dazai’s lubed up cock, enjoying how the other completely held his breath as he lined the cock to his entrance.

Then, Chuuya slowly sank himself down.

“C-Chuuya…!” Dazai panted, hands coming back to Chuuya’s hips and this time, Chuuya didn’t brush them away. He was too preoccupied with the sensation of being full and trying to remind himself how to breathe.

His head was thrown back with a silent cry leaving his lips.

It was so big.

He felt as if his inside would burst.

“D-Dazai…” Chuuya wheezed, shaking hard as he seated himself fully on the other man. He panted heavily; feeling the brunet’s balls pressing against his butt cheeks as the cock inside him pulsed.

He looked down at Dazai, who was staring back up at him. The man didn’t do anything to rush him. He didn’t even move. He just lay there, waiting patiently for Chuuya to begin.

Chuuya took a moment to collect his breath before he placed his hands on both sides of Dazai’s head. Very slowly, he began to lift himself up. He looked down at Dazai who returned his gaze, neither of them wanted to miss the other’s reaction as Chuuya pulled out halfway before sinking back down.

Their moans resonated throughout the room as Chuuya began to start a slow rhythm. It was extremely uncomfortable, having something foreign inside that kind of place. While he felt full, there was no stinging pain, so that means he most likely hasn’t torn anything inside yet.

Nails digging into his mattress, Chuuya kept the pace for a while before picking it up a little bit. The more he does it, the more his inside began to loosen and accept the cock. Despite that, it didn’t feel as good as he had thought it should…

Chuuya thought back to how Dazai’s fingers moved inside him. He tried to imagine it, trying to change the angle to find that particular bundle of nerve. But no matter how many times he tried, he just couldn’t seem to find it.

He must have seen really frustrated, as Dazai smirked up at him, his hands tightening just a bit over his hips.

“Need some help, Chuuya?”

Before Chuuya could even respond, Dazai slammed his hips upward, drilling his cock right into that spot that made Chuuya see stars.

“AAAAAH!!”

“See, you have to hit there, Chuuya~” Dazai’s singsong voice came, but Chuuya could barely hear him.

The orange-haired youth couldn't think of anything but that intense feeling wrecking his body and leaving his mind completely blank. He had collapsed forward, leaning his weight on his elbows as he panted like the dog Dazai claimed he was, mind still reeling from what had happened.

Dazai leaned up to steal a kiss before he pulled out of that delicious heat, then thrusting back in as he watched Chuuya mewled.

With a flip of their bodies, Dazai changed their positions back to how it was. His tongue peeked out, swiping over Chuuya’s parted lip as his eyes lustfully roamed over the flushed beauty beneath him.

He grabbed those firm but slender legs, marveling how Chuuya’s skin was smoother than any woman’s and hooked them up onto his shoulder. Then he grabbed Chuuya’s hand in each of his own, pinning them down to the mattress with their fingers tightly laced together.

And then, Dazai moved.

Chuuya wailed.

His body arched off the bed. His spine was curving back so much that had Chuuya didn’t have such flexible body, he would have snapped in half. Tears rolled out of his wide blue eyes and soaked the pillow beneath him.

Dazai was hovering over the redhead as if trying to see how far he can curl the other before he breaks. His movements were relentless.

Chuuya tugged at his hands, trying to get free but Dazai got a firm hold on them. Thanks to the onslaught of pleasure, Chuuya couldn’t even summon a fraction of his usual strength. He could only lie there, feeling the pleasure build up more and more until…

“Aaaaaah!” He cried as cum splattered out of his swollen cock, panting his stomach and sweater in white stains.

Dazai gasped at the sight of the redhead’s face when he had cummed. The sight alone was enough to make Dazai follow after him. Chuuya was crying as he felt something hot being pumped deep inside his body, filling his body to the brim and making him feel impossibly full.

The low grunt from Dazai was the only indication that he had cummed, as his movement didn’t even falter as he kept on going.

“D-Dazai…!” Tears rolled down Chuuya’s eyes as he felt the Dazai’s softened cock hardening inside him again. With the way the brunet was ramming into his prostate, Chuuya’s own cock was bouncing back up as well.

“Chuuya…Chuuya…!!” Dazai chanted Chuuya’s name over and over as he kept fucking him into the bed. Chuuya cried as he mindlessly responded to Dazai’s call with his own.

“Dazai!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Chuuya didn’t know how long they’ve been at it for.

His entire body hurts.

His knees have been hurting from kneeling on the hard wooden floor. His body flopped over the side of his bed. He was so tired that he couldn’t even lift a finger, so his arms were dangling uselessly at his side, swaying every time he was jerked forward by the body plastered against him.

Chuuya was struggling to breathe.

His lungs hurt with each intake of breath.

His throat burns from the hours and hours of nonstop screaming.

The sun was up, shining light through the thing layer of his curtains. Despite how his room was illuminated with the morning light, he found it harder to see than it was in the dark.

Chuuya blinked.

Oh…it wasn’t his vision that was blurry. It was just tears. He was surprised there were still tears at this point.

His body jerked forward—the body behind him stilling for three full seconds before finally collapsing against him. Both men groaned as they stayed like that, Chuuya leaning against his bed while Dazai against him. The two of them were desperately inhaling the air around them.

Finally, they were done.

Chuuya couldn’t remember how many times he had cummed, as he had blacked out here and there, but it was definitely over a dozen times.

They were moving like animals—no, at least animals had the decency to know when to stop.

They didn’t.

Even if they couldn’t get it up anymore…even if their cocks burned from pain, they continued. Throughout the entire night, Dazai had never once pulled his cock out of him, even when they changed positions. They have been attached in the most intimate ways, moving purely out of desperation rather than pleasure.

They were like two starved men that had been denied of their needs for their entire lives. Despite knowing they should stop, neither of them could let the other go.

They naively thought that if they never stop, then this—whatever this was—will never end.

Chuuya slowly parted his eyes, not knowing when he had closed it to find Dazai’s face right in front of his. Their foreheads were touching, their breaths mingling as they rest their heads on the edge of the mattress.

Those brown eyes opened up, staring back into Chuuya and reflecting his image. Chuuya was immediately reminded of last night…of how that black cat had first looked at him. Blue eyes softened as he wondered why he didn’t realize sooner. Even back then, those weren’t the kind of eyes a cat should have.

Letting out a long sigh, Dazai put his hands on the bed. He was shaking, showing just how much of a toll his body had taken.

Chuuya shuddered as he felt the soft cock inside him began to move.

Dazai slowly pulled himself out, hissing as he does so. Chuuya guessed that the brunet’s cock must be bruised from the overuse. At the very least, the redhead was certain his inside was bruised. The moment Dazai slipped out of his body, the redhead let out a sharp gasp. His body trembled uncontrollably as he felt everything that has been kept inside of him gushing out.

Dazai, as if not even noticing his companion’s crises, grabbed Chuuya by the waist and gave him a tug.

Chuuya groaned. He didn’t know what the other wanted now, but despite being so tired, he complied. He pushed himself up, limbs shaking like a newborn fawn as he let Dazai switch their positions around.

The brunet sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed as he pulled Chuuya right into his lap.

If Chuuya wasn't so tired and his throat didn't hurt so much, he would have protested and fought against Dazai. After all, he still got cum and lube leaking out of him. With him sitting on Dazai’s lap, there was no way the brunet wouldn’t notice.

Dazai just acted normally as he reached out to grab the duvet that had joined them on the floor sometime during the night. He wrapped it around them in a similar fashion Chuuya had done when he was warming up Dazai who a feline at the time. Chuuya was boneless in Dazai’s arms, his face nestled into Dazai’s neck while Dazai rested his head on top of his. Through such close contact, they could feel each other’s erratic heartbeats, as if forming some sort of symphony.

Just as Chuuya feel he was going to pass out, something was pushed into his weak hands. He forced his mind to clear up and looked down to see a familiar present.

A small rectangular present wrapped in red with green ribbon—it was the exact same one he had picked up on his balcony.

“This was from you?” Chuuya mumbled in between heavy breathes.

Large hands gently rubbed his hip as Dazai nuzzled into the clumps of orange hair stuck together from sweat.

“Open it.”

Chuuya really wanted to sleep, but he also feared that if he does, then he would wake up all alone. He didn’t know why such thought would bother him…but it did.

So with the last bit of his strength—as well as some help from Dazai—Chuuya tore off the wrapping.

What came into his view was a rectangular black box and inside was a piece of paper.

Chuuya picked up the paper with shaky hands, and something slipped out, clattering onto the wooden floor.

The redhead looked down and froze in shock.

It was a black credit card.

Chuuya hastily unfolded the paper, ignoring the cries of his muscles as he stared at the property form that got his name on it.

“What is this?” He demanded as he stared at the form. There was an address written there. The street sounded familiar, but Chuuya couldn’t remember where in the world this place was.

“Ten minutes’ walk from your workplace, two stories with two bedrooms. It’s right around the corner with a florist to the left and barber to the right, organic grocery store and a 24/7 convenient store right across the street. Has access to full sunlight with a balcony and a small backyard with herbs. The walls are bulletproof and the windows are made with reinforcement glass. The house is protected with the most advanced security and most importantly…” Dazai leaned into Chuuya’s ears. Like the whisper of a devil, he said, “it got a TV and the basement has been modified into a wine cellar.”

If Chuuya wasn’t close to having a heart attack with how fast his heart had been beating, he certainly was now.

“As for that credit card, it got all of my savings during my time in Port Mafia. Not even Mori-san knows about this account.”

Chuuya tried to calm down his heart. Was he…was this what he think it was?

“Come live with me, Chuuya.” When Dazai spoke these words to him, it didn’t sound like a request. It sounded more like a statement, as if Dazai knew he’d say yes.

“Why should I move in with a wanted man?” Chuuya muttered, not willing to give in so easily.

“You’re wanted within the underground as well, former King of Sheep. You know about my Ability. Don’t you think we’ll be quite compatible as partners?”

“Partners?” Chuuya snorted. “Is that what this is?”

Dazai didn’t respond immediately. Chuuya could feel the hand resting on his hips absentmindedly drawing circles as the brunet thought over.

“…I don’t know.” Dazai admitted after a while, instead of telling the redhead a pretty lie. He buried his face back into the mop of pumpkin orange hair, taking in another deep breath of the shorter man’s scent. “I don’t know what this is.”

“…Yeah, me neither.” Chuuya whispered back, leaning into Dazai’s neck as he too took in his scent.

This wasn’t love—that was something they were both certain about, because that would just be ridiculous.

So…exactly what is this?

Neither of them knows, and that’s why they needed to find out.

Chuuya had always been one to follow his heart. As for Dazai, he hated having something outside of his calculation. He hated himself for acting in ways he can’t even understand. And more than that, after losing Oda Sakunosuke, he couldn’t effort any other error. That was why he came to Chuuya. He needed to find out, just what exactly was this before Chuuya becomes out of his reach.

“So, when’s the move in?”

“How does tomorrow sound?” Dazai suggested. He tried using that fake cheerful voice again, only to fail miserably as his eyelids slowly slide over his eyes. Exhaustion was finally taking over him.

“Yeah…tomorrow…” Chuuya’s voice trailed off, eyelids dropping as well.

Really, it was a miracle they held on for so long.

“Merry Christmas, Chuuya.” Dazai murmured, smiling at how Chuuya’s muscles tensed a little before relaxing.

“Merry Christmas…shitty bastard.” Chuuya mumbled back.

Neither of them could see each other’s faces, but the smiles lifting their lips were identical as they finally submit themselves to the darkness.

╔ ——————————————— ╗

4 Years Later

╚ ——————————————— ╝

R—ing

The clear sound of bell echoed as a man with pumpkin orange hair tied into a low ponytail opened the door to the Uzumaki Café.

“Meow~” A soft call breathed right into ear, causing the man to chuckle as he reached up to pat the black cat.

When he walked inside, the man was greeted by all types of noises. The noises of certain siblings, as well as the screaming of a certain blond detective followed by the sound of beating.

The usual noises.

“Ah, Chuuya-kun!” The waitress, who was watching the beating taking place, looked up cheerfully at the sight of the man.

“What did idiot Dazai do now?” Chuuya asked, not even sparing the bandaged man (one getting beat up) a glance as he handed the waitress the bag of soy sauces he was asked to get.

“Chuuya-san.” Kunikida Doppo retracted his foot and nodded respectfully to the much shorter male.

"Chuuya!” Immediately, Chuuya found himself with an arm full of a whining brunet. Dazai’s arms were wrapped firmly around his narrow waist and rubbed his cheek against his chest like a lovesick puppy. “Kunikida-kun has been so mean to me! Beat him up for me!”

“I bet you did something stupid again.” Chuuya raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless wrapped his arms around the other’s board shoulders.

It was at that moment that he cat that’s been perching on Chuuya’s shoulder kicked off, shooting down like a cannonball and smashing right into Dazai’s head.

“Mackerel! You—!” Dazai grabbed the cat by the back of its nape and lifted it up so he can glare at it at eye level. The black cat just blinked innocently and let out a cute mew.

“Uh…?” Hearing an unfamiliar voice, Chuuya looked over and noticed a white-haired boy he has never seen before.

“Ah, this is Chuuya-san.” Kunikida dutifully introduced. “He is the chef here at Uzumaki café. Occasionally when we run into troublesome jobs, we also enlist him to help out. He is also an Ability user.”

“Hello!” The boy hurriedly bowed. “I’m—”

“Nakajima Atsushi, right?” Chuuya smiled. “Osamu talked about you.”

“Osamu?” Atsushi blinked in confusion.

“He means Dazai.” Kunikida explained, jabbing a thumb back to a certain brunet that was still having a staring contest with the cat.

“Hah…” Atsushi could only say as he watched Chuuya headed into the back.

The second the redhead was out of sight, the innocent black cat suddenly puffed up its fur. All muscles in its body tensed as claws shot out from beneath the black fur. The innocent look on its face turned into a scowl and with a snarl, the cat was in Dazai’s face, scratching everywhere it could reach.

Atsushi sat there, completely frozen as he watched the man desperately attempted to rip the cat off.

“K-Kunikida-san…what is that?” Atsushi asked, wondering if he was starting to hallucinate.

“Ah, that’s just how Mackerel is.” Kunikida replied as if this was an ordinary thing. Then, with sparkles in his eyes, he looked to the cat that was still assaulting the bandaged man. “He is truly a marvelous creature, don’t you agree?”

“O-okay…?” Atsushi backed away a bit, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

And…Mackerel?

What kind of name was that?!

“Chuuya!” Dazai whined loudly when he couldn’t peel the cat off. “Chuuuuyaaaaa!!”

When there was no response from Chuuya, Dazai changed his tune.

“CHIBIIIIIII~!”

“SHUT UP!” The angry voice of Chuuya’s roared from the back.

Apparently, that was all Dazai needed to get the cat to stop. Just a shout of Chuuya’s voice and immediately the black cat was perched on one of the barstool, regaining that innocent, harmless look on its face.

“That’s…a cat…right?” Atsushi asked uncertainty.

“Mackerel is the mascot of this café," Naomi told him cheerfully. “After Chuuya-san brought it here once, the customers all fell in love with it! Even the President comes here from time to time to see him!”

“A mascot?!” Atsushi gapped in disbelieve before looking over to Dazai’s face that was filled with scratches. Seeing how none of those scratches were deep enough to make the man bleed, Atsushi guessed the cat’s claws were trimmed. Well, of course they would with that kind of behavior…

But seriously…who would want this kind of mascot in their shop?!

Fifteen minutes later when Chuuya came out, he was carrying a tray of club sandwiches. He handed the large tray to the young waitress, who walked around the counter to deliver the food to the Armed Detective Agency members, while he himself placed a plate of sandwich in front of Dazai.

At the sight of the redhead, Mackerel jumped back onto the man’s shoulder and began rubbing its face against the redhead’s.

Dazai all but glared at the cat as he took a bitter bite into the sandwich.

“Don’t try to suck up to me, I told you many times. No. Scratching.” Chuuya spoke in a stern tone as he gave a firm slap to the cat’s rear. That made the cat jolted. Its fur puffed out, giving a weak mew before dropping its head and flattened its ears to its skull. The cat now looked like a pitiful kid that just got scowled.

Dazai childishly stuck out his tongue at the cat, only to be on the receiving end of Chuuya’s glare.

“And you, stop tormenting him!”

“I’m tormenting him?! Chuuya—!”

“Don’t think I don’t know you locked him into a cage and shoved him into the closet when I’m not around.” Chuuya arched a brow, daring Dazai to tell him wrong.

“I wouldn’t do that if he would stop attacking me.” Dazai defended, glaring at the cat that now seemed oddly smug. That long tail was even flipping around as if enjoying the show. The bastard.

“Maybe he’ll stop attacking you if you treat him better.” Chuuya huffed as he patted the cat that all but melted against the redhead.

Atsushi watched the exchange while taking large bites. He was practically tearing up at how delicious the sandwich was. However, when he looked towards Dazai, he nearly choked at that beaming smile the brunet was wearing on his face.

Except…anyone with an eye knew the man wasn’t genuinely smiling. Not by that large vein throbbing on his forehead as he stared at the cat burying itself into the redhead’s soft neck.

“So, what were you guys doing?” Chuuya asked, looking over to Atsushi who did choke this time and was desperately gulping down water.

“Atsushi-kun was trying to guess Dazai-san's past career," Tanizaki replied for their newbie.

Chuuya snorted as he set down a bowl of cat food onto the floor. At the sight of food, Mackerel jumped off his owner and buried his face into his meal.

“For that reward?” Chuuya smirked as he looked over to Atsushi. “Give it up, kid, you won’t ever guess it.”

“Does Chuuya-san know what Dazai-san did in the past?” Atsushi blinked in confusion as he set down his empty cup. Since the moment this man stepped in, Atsushi could already tell how close he and Dazai were. From the way they speak to their interactions, it was very different than how they acted to their co-workers.

Close friends? Atsushi frowned as he threw that thought away. They are close—really close—but calling them friends felt a bit off…

“Darling, I believe Atsushi-kun is asking about our relationships," Dazai smirked mischievously before he leaned back against the counter and reached an arm out, hooking his hand around the back of Chuuya’s neck.

With a gentle pull, Chuuya followed the movement, leaning over the counter as his and Dazai’s lips met.

Atsushi was petrified as he watched the two handsome men exchanged a deep and passionate kiss. The boy could hear the sounds of their lips moving against one another and swore he even saw a glimpse of tongues as they broke apart.

“Does this answer your question, Atsushi-kun?” Dazai smiled merrily, using his left hand to cover Chuuya’s left hand that was resting on his shoulder. Under the sunlight beaming through the window, the identical silver band both of them wore on their ring fingers shined brightly—nearly blinding a certain weretiger.

“D-Dazai-san you’re married?!” Atsushi exclaimed in shock.

The other three members of the Agency nodded in approval at the newbie’s reaction. After all, their reactions were the same—if not worst—when a certain good-for-nothing revealed that this charming, handsome chef (who got his own fan club) working in the café below them was married to him.

And imagine their surprise when they found out the identity and the power said chef actually had...

“Allow me to introduce~” Dazai sang as he laced his hand’s with redhead. “My loving wife—Dazai Chuuya.”

“Husband.” Chuuya corrected, blue eyes glaring daggers at his spouse who was now blinking just as innocently as Mackerel had in the beginning. “And don’t fucking call me Dazai!”

“But Chuuya!” Dazai gasped in shock and fake hurt. “Your registry says—”

“I don’t give a fuck what my registry says!” Chuuya roared, remembering back to that incident two years ago when a certain bandaged bastard changed his name just so he would start calling him at first-name basis.

He could have just asked, but no!

On top of that, the bandaged bastard even made use of his connections! Chuuya has no idea what kind of deal he struck with the government, but one thing was certain and that's no matter what Chuuya did, he could no longer change his name back!

“D…Dazai…san?” Atsushi said without even thinking. He wasn't trying to call out any of them. He had just spoken it amidst the confusions, but the redhead apparently took it the strong way. Icy blue eyes narrowed at him, sending chills down Atsushi's back as the poor boy cowered like prey before the predator.

“If you ever call me Dazai again, I will let you experience first-hand how it feels to be crushed by gravity. Are we cleared?”

Atsushi had never nodded so fast in his entire life. For the umpteenth times this day, he was regretting why he had asked Dazai to help him find a job.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL AND HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

#soukoku #dazai x chuuya #dazai #chuuya #dazaixchuuya #fanfiction

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

Text

We’ll Be Home For Christmas 3.4

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Three - If not for the courage of the fearless crew – Part 4

Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3

Author: Gumnut

29 Dec 2019 - 4 Jan 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 4342

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Artist!Virgil, Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D I hope you enjoy it.

I’m probably posting this before it is ready and I’m not happy with the ending so may change where it ends when I start writing the next part, but I really need a little cheering up today, so here be the next 4000-odd words of this fic. I hope you enjoy them :D

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to @onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

They stashed their luggage in the hostel, a large white and wooden building that had obviously seen many residents over the years, but was well loved and maintained.

Melissa gave them a quick tour of the compound. It consisted of series of buildings similar to the hostel but of varying sizes over looking the ocean and the adjacent Oneraki Beach. The island was basically a triangle with the encampment on the north facing side high up on Fleetwood Bluff. There was something about a Flagstaff but Virgil missed it...mainly due to the conversation Gordon and Sam were laughing over behind him.

Whatever it was called, the view was magnificent. Far below in the bay, A Little Lightning was a small white smudge on the blue of the Pacific.

Melissa ran them through the rules of conduct on the island. No one was to venture anywhere on the island outside the compound unaccompanied by a DOC employee. Please keep your luggage inside the hostel. All life is protected on the island and in the waters. It was illegal to damage or remove anything. No littering. The list went on.

It was a long one.

Apart from being a cetacean biologist and a loud talker, Sam was also apparently the resident cook on the island. Melissa put no claim to any culinary skills, so had left it to Sam.

The man had baked a cake.

A Christmas cake.

In their isolation on the boat, despite their aim to be home for Christmas, Virgil had forgotten it was the day before Christmas Eve. December twenty-three.

It wasn’t the first time he had forgotten Christmas. Three years ago he had spent Christmas dragging survivors off the Amazon flood plain when the river engulfed an entire city. Christmas had been obliterated. As had the two months after due to the damn fever he had caught from those flood waters. It hadn’t been a great start to the year.

But this year it was different. They were on vacation. A forced vacation, but a vacation nonetheless, of which the whole purpose was to get home in time for Christmas. Yet the decorations and the tree in the corner of the communal hall had taken him by surprise.

The cake was very nice. He had to hold Alan back from grabbing seconds. But it got him thinking about the day after next and what they would be doing as a family.

“He sang to the whales?!”

Virgil jumped at Sam’s exclamation somewhere behind him.

“Yeah, he did. You should have heard it. It was incredible.” Virgil’s eyes widened at the pride in Gordon’s voice.

“They didn’t pay any attention, though, did they? All previous attempts have failed.”

“Ho, Sam, I have to show you the recordings. They responded alright. Virg may not speak whale, but he knows how to speak emotion. Mamma whale definitely understood something.”

Virgil buried his face in his coffee. The experience was still raw. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it and it was inevitable that he would be asked.

“What did he use?” And the conversation dropped to normal levels. Virgil’s name was mentioned several times along with John’s. Sam was eager and excited.

Virgil felt dread.

“You okay, bro?” Alan was frowning at him while hoovering the second piece of cake Virgil had already told him he couldn’t have.

Why did he bother?

“So I guess we’ll be hauling in extra food supplies for these people after you’ve finished with them.”

“It was one piece of cake.”

“It’s the only cake, Alan.”

His brother’s eyes widened in realisation. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

“I’ll bring them something before New Years.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Or maybe Scott can. He might want to visit.”

“What? Why?” But Alan was gesturing with his head in the direction of their eldest brother.

Deep in conversation with Melissa Fisher.

Virgil raised an eyebrow.

-o-o-o-

“So by claiming for twenty one instead of twenty volunteers we get just that extra bit of funding.”

“Clever move.” Scott had finished his cake and was drinking tea. Virgil had shot him an incredulous look when he asked for it, but if there was one thing Scott remembered about this place, it was the herbal tea. Melissa knew how to brew a great drink...even if she had to threaten him and his father to try it the first time.

“Are you still using Jack Dunning?”

“Oh, yes, the man is brilliant. And he does all our work pro bono which saves us so much. Thank you for the recommendation.”

Scott was not going to mention one Gordon Tracy jumping up and down in front of him one afternoon several years ago. His aquanaut brother had been apoplectic and at the end of a very sharp conversation, Scott had been more than willing to call in their lawyers to act on behalf of the DOC Kermadec Expedition. The fishery megacorporation challenging the validity of the Sanctuary hadn’t known what hit them.

And if Scott wanted Jack to send him all the bills, that was his prerogative. Melissa didn’t have to know everything.

“So how is Virgil?” It was a quiet question as she picked up her own cup of tea.

He eyed her a moment. He was well aware of her attraction to his brother. Gordon had made a point of stirring Virgil until his quiet brother had clapped him around the ears.

“He’s recovering. I’ll be happier when he is home.”

She eyed him as if considering whether she should breach a topic or not. Something flickered in her eyes. “How goes Tracy Island? Is the regrowth flourishing as we hoped?”

He thought back at the tracts of native vegetation his father had planted all those years ago, mostly on the other side of the island, though some covered scars from the IR excavations.The pōhutukawa and palm trees seemed to be okay, but his mind was usually on other things when he ran past them.

He shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t know. You could ask Gordon?”

She peered closer at him. “Are you okay?”

He straightened where he sat. “I’m good.” He stretched. “Got any recommendations for a good place to run? Need to stretch my legs.”

She swallowed the last of her drink. “I can show you.”

“No need, just point me in the right direction and I’ll find my way.”

A snort. “You’re not on Tracy Island, Commander. No visitors go unaccompanied on Raoul, remember. You’ve got a choice between me and Sam.” A smirk. “And you won’t get much distance out of him unless you prefer swimming.”

Internally he groaned. He had been looking forward to time alone.

“I can show you around the crater rim. You’ll get a great workout.”

The thought of finding the physical relief was just too tempting. The hike up the hill had been a teaser and he wanted more. He sculled the last of his tea. “Fine. Lead the way.” He hoped she could keep up.

Her smile was a challenge in itself. “I’ll go grab my running gear. Meet you out front in ten.”

“FAB.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon watched as Scott stood up, brushed past Virgil and said something, before following Mel out the door.

“Do you think Virgil would be willing to talk about his experience?”

Gordon glanced at Sam and then eyed his brother. His linen shirt was tight across his shoulders as the man hunched over his coffee. “I don’t know.”

“Can you ask?” Sam was all eagerness. It was understandable. The surfer had made cetaceans his life’s work and this was a fantastic opportunity.

A sucked in breath. “Leave it with me, I’ll see what I can do.”

-o-o-o-

John, drink in hand, had taken the opportunity to find himself a vantage point on the cliff. The island was very quiet, even quieter than Tracy Island was at times and considerably bigger.

He appreciated the solitude.

Of course, the boat hadn’t exactly been loud or even crowded. He truly enjoyed the time with his brothers. But it was nice to step away, even if only for a little time.

He parked himself in the long grass at the edge of the bluff and stared out into the blue of the Pacific.

An idle thought.

“Eos?”

“Hello, John.”

“Hello, Eos. Status?”

“All emergency calls are being fielded by the appropriate agencies. Mr Lemaire has entombed himself in ice at the South Pole in an attempt to locate Santa Claus. I have advised the GDF. He is safe and secure for the moment.”

John’s thoughts locked up for a second. “The South Pole? Santa Claus lives in the North Pole.”

“Ignoring the fact that Santa Claus is a myth, Mr Lemaire claimed that ‘the North Pole is an ocean and only an idiot would build a house on an ice floe that melts every summer, therefore he must be hidden at the South Pole.’ He planned to be the first human to interview the father of Christmas and used a specialised drilling machine to dig into the ice...which promptly collapsed on him twenty metres down.”

John sighed. “You are sure he is safe?”

“Colonel Casey has sent a specialist team. He and his wife have enough survival supplies to make it through to New Years if necessary.”

“Monitor the situation. Call us in only if there is no alternative.” A trip to the South Pole was something they did not need.

“FAB, John.”

“And how are you?”

“I am functioning well.”

“Do you have any results from the problem I set you?”

“I have analysed three thousand two hundred and twenty-three recordings of humpback whale communications. Unfortunately, many of the recordings are missing the lower frequencies as the equipment used was not sufficient. I do have some translation possibilities, however I am still calculating multiple variables and am hesitant to postulate a theory.”

He had expected as much. She had only been working on it for a few hours. “Are you enjoying the work?” To be honest, he wasn’t expecting a positive result. It did, however, keep a bored AI occupied.

“It is very interesting. Virgil’s response shows no pattern relative to the language he was attempting to respond to, yet he received a result.”

“I suspect there is an element of synergy in the language that enables it to become more than a sum of its parts. Perhaps that is what Virgil was able to tap into.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, John.”

John sucked in a breath. “You are a computer program, yet you are more than lines of code, you are a person. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps this language is a step beyond simple complexity. Perhaps the elements combined create a new level of communication? One that is not entirely on the conscious level.”

His daughter was silent for a moment. “How does interpretation differ between the human conscious and subconscious? The literature claims a lack of cognitive recognition of events created or observed subconsciously. How could Virgil create something he is not aware of?”

“There is much we do not yet understand. The human subconscious is well known for gathering multiple observed factors and combining them into instinct, all without conscious control. Perhaps you should explore that region of research?” Come to think of it, Virgil’s instincts in the field were very sharp. There were multiple examples of his brother acting against orders and ultimately saving lives that otherwise would have been lost, including those of his brothers.

“I will, John, thank you.”

“You are welcome.” His lips curled into a smile. “Enjoy yourself.”

-o-o-o-

It was amazing to finally get his feet moving.

Scott’s shoes pounded volcanic dust and rock so familiar it was almost as if he was home. A regular thud-thud-thud, the sea breeze, the rock, the vegetation...energy flowed through him and was used, muscles firing, skin tingling in the afternoon air. God, it was so good to get out.

Melissa said nothing to him beyond directing which path to take. She had removed her DOC uniform, reducing her clothing to a tight crop top, shorts and running shoes, and if he was honest, he had to admit he was appreciating the view.

The woman was all slim muscle. Tight waist, lightly browned skin. Her pale hair bounced behind her in a hastily tied ponytail and he found himself following it as she leapt from path to rock and over logs.

She had no trouble keeping up. In fact, it was more the other way around. He had to work to keep up with her, despite the difference in stride. She knew exactly where she was going and she was offering no handicap.

They pushed up a steep incline for some time. She had taken them off the main track and deep into the forest. Birds sung all around and the wind rustled through the blossoming trees. The pōhutukawa were in their brilliant crimson Christmas flowers, festooning the island as if to decorate for the season.

Grandma loved the pōhutukawa trees on Tracy Island and was in fact the only reason he knew the name of the plant. She cut flowers every year for their Christmas table to acknowledge the beautiful piece of land they lived on.

They reminded him of home.

This whole island reminded him of home.

Melissa ran around a particularly large tree and he followed only to come to a screeching halt as the path suddenly changed direction. A huge crater appeared in front of him.

Melissa was running on the spot. She nodded down at the lake at the bottom of the volcanic bowl. “Blue Lake.”

And it was.

A stunning, almost unnatural cobalt blue. He stared down at it, panting from his exertions. His thin grey tank top clung to his sweaty body.

She grinned at him before darting off along the crater rim.

Hmmm. An indrawn breath and he took off after her.

The crater wasn’t massive on a volcanic scale, but it was impressive nonetheless. The late afternoon sun shadowed the mountain, emphasising the extremes of the landscape.

“The far lake is Green Lake.” Melissa had stopped and was running on the spot again. A fine sheen of perspiration glistened on her skin.

He did know the geography, he had flown over the island often enough, but this perspective was considerably different. “It’s beautiful.” Not unlike its caretaker.

The random thought shook him out of contemplation and forced himself to look out at the smaller green lake in the distance.

Where the hell had that come from? A sideways glance in her direction and he found her gaze caught on the spectacle before them, her love for the island obvious.

Well, he had to admit that he did have his own island love. Just not this island.

“C’mon, slow poke, let’s up the pace.” And she darted off into the forest again.

Really?

Thighs pumping, he followed her under the trees, down the slope a little before he found himself climbing again.

She called back to him from several metres in front. “Got a full body workout coming up. I hope you’re up to it.” Her grin bounced down the mountain and off his head.

She was challenging him? Well, he had been known to hang off rocket ships and climb vertical cliff faces. Bring it on.

She did.

The path dissolved. There was no other real word for it. It became a mass of black jagged volcanic rocks, interspersed with tree regrowth.

“This was dumped here last time Virgil yanked us off the Island.” Her words were interspersed with harsh breathing as she clambered over the obstacle. As he climbed the crater once again came into view and the scar in the side of the mountain became clear.

Wow.

There was a swath of dead forest dotted with regrowth. He remembered Virgil’s report. The footage had involved billowing smoke and steam, but his brother had confined most of his readings to the encampment, his concern more for the lives endangered than any geological happenings. Brains had taken readings and read GeoNet’s reports as he did for any activity on the Kermadec Ridge, but he had reported it small and unremarkable.

Looked far more remarkable in person.

Melissa reached the top of the pile of rock and finally stopped.

He was grateful. The woman knew how to push it. He clambered up the last few and stood next to her.

The view was magnificent.

“She risks our lives, but I have to say she is beautiful.” Her love was there again, in her eyes. It was a similar expression to what he saw on Gordon’s face when he stared out across the ocean.

“You love this island, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

She turned to stare at him and he realised that her eyes were a startling multicoloured grey. “I love this place. It’s mountains, its plants, its ocean, its everything. It is one of the truly saved places on our planet. There aren’t many left.” She shrugged. “I’m just lucky to be able to experience it and contribute my little bit of help.”

He snorted. “Even I know what you are doing is anything but little. You’ve expanded the Sanctuary by hundreds of kilometres since you’ve been here.”

Her gaze turned back to him. “You’ve been reading up on me?”

Half a grin. “I like to know who I am dealing with.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And what did you find, Commander?”

His smile spread. “Someone remarkable.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil hid for the rest of the afternoon. He slunk away to the hostel, found himself a bed and curled up. At some point, he heard a brother open the door to the communal room and another brother, Alan maybe, mutter something, but they went away and he was glad for it.

The wood of the building creaked in the sun and birds squawked almost continually, but despite, or perhaps because of the soundscape, he fell into a much better sleep than he had had the entire week. Deep and complete.

The sun was heading towards the horizon when he woke, yellowing rays cutting across the hostel windows, turning the white paintwork gold.

Gordon was in the room, fossicking through a bag. “G’don?” He blinked and screwed up his face.

“Hey, Virg! Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No. Don’t think so?”

“How are you feeling?”

Virgil rolled over and pushed himself up, sitting on the side of the bed. He rubbed his hands over his face. “Okay, I guess.”

His brother snorted. “I’ll ask you again in half an hour after coffee and brain activation.”

The grunt he sent in the aquanaut’s direction only proved his point.

“Sam is very interested in what you did today.”

Crap. Another grunt.

That earned him a querying look. Virgil had no idea what his brother expected. If a simple question about how he was feeling was a stumbler, the complex concepts involving what had happened earlier in the day were a complete brain frier.

“You up for dinner?” Gordon was suddenly sitting on the bed next to him. When had he moved? “Sam’s dragged out the barbecue. Claims he wants to test the theory of ‘throwing a prawn on the barbie’. Apparently, as an Australian he’s never cooked a shrimp on a barbecue before.” As if to punctuate the statement, the smell of cooking meat wafted in through the window.

Virgil stared at his brother.

“They had to import the shrimp for Christmas.”

The staring continued.

“They’re throwing a party because we’re here and using their Christmas supplies to do it...why the hell are you staring at me like that?”

Virgil didn’t answer him. He just wrapped an arm around him and hugged Gordon to his side.

His brother didn’t resist, but did look at him strangely. “You okay?”

“I’m good.”

Gordon didn’t say anything further and for a moment they sat there together.

Virgil’s stomach rumbled.

Gordon snorted. “C’mon, bro, food awaits.” He slipped Virgil’s hold and, turning around, offered him a hand up.

Without another word, Virgil took it and stood up beside his brother, his hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing.

That earned him another questioning look, but he ignored it.

The grassed central area of the compound had been transformed both by the golden sunlight and the lights strung between the trees. Sam was standing in front of a sizzling barbecue, someone Virgil didn’t know, laughing and holding him close. Alan and John were deep in discussion with another new person. All three of them had drinks in hand. John’s hair flickered about as if it was on fire, the sun catching it as the breeze tossed it around. And Scott...

Virgil stared.

Scott was laughing his ass off.

With Melissa Fisher.

The two of them sat beside each other in a couple of deck chairs. His brother appearing more relaxed than Virgil had seen him in a long time.

“What happened?” It came out without thought.

“They went for a run. Came back friendly as can be. I think Scott may have fallen for her charms.”

Charms? The woman was a handful. Virgil wasn’t afraid to admit he found her a challenge. Her gratitude the last time he had airlifted her and her squad of staff and volunteers off Raoul had been...exuberant.

If Kayo hadn’t escorted her out of his cockpit, he wasn’t sure what he would have done. As it was, Gordon had ribbed him until he cracked and thwapped him one.

But Scott seemed almost enthusiastic. Despite himself, Virgil broke into a grin.

Gordon echoed it. “Yeah, it’s great to finally see him relaxing.”

Quiet. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Gordon grabbed his arm and nudged him in the direction of a table piled with food and drink. “Let’s get you fuelled up so I can introduce you to Liam and Elspeth.”

Coffee, as always, solved a lot of problems and, hugging his mug like the lifeline it was, Virgil was introduced to Sam’s husband.

Liam turned out to be a meteorologist. Raoul was not only important as a wildlife sanctuary, but also supported this corner of the Pacific’s meteorological station, providing atmospheric readings crucial to both weather and climate studies.

Having no shortage of interest in weather conditions, both as a pilot and a rescue operative who often found himself in the extremes of all kinds of those conditions, Virgil fell into in a very interesting discussion regarding navigating tropical cyclones.

In appearance, Liam was taller than Sam, blond and much more reserved than his husband. Hell, it was almost like someone had grabbed John and Gordon, thrown their physical characteristics in a blender and then assembled Liam and Sam. Liam even had a similar flick of blond hair on his forehead that John had in his red hair.

Almost in contrast, where Liam was pale and tall, Elspeth was dark and petite. Long plaited black hair hung to her waist, her features in shades of sepia. The artist in him was quite drawn to her.

But not as much as his two starbound brothers, because Elspeth was an astronomer. She and Liam had been on the other side of the island earlier in the day collecting readings from the observatory. Something about a rogue object passing through the Solar System. Virgil lost the discussion at some point between the Oort cloud and the orbit of Jupiter. He kept getting distracted by Scott laughing.

Virgil hadn’t heard his brother laugh so freely in a long time. Melissa appeared to be enjoying herself. It was as if a bubble had surrounded them and cut them off from everyone else. Stuck in their own happy little world.

An irrational spark of envy and the inevitable smirk at his brother deploying his well played charms were all completely smothered by the happiness he felt seeing Scott finally relaxing and enjoying himself.

As the evening became night, Virgil continued to hover on the edges of conversation, more Gordon, Sam and Liam than John, Alan and Elspeth. The latter group’s discussion had dissolved into equations and while Virgil loved a good piece of math like any engineer, theoreticals were more than he was willing to think about right at the moment.

The food was delicious and he complimented Sam thoroughly. Liam smiled and waxed poetic about some of the meals his husband had cooked in the past. Sam blushed appropriately red on several occasions, setting Gordon off into ribbing the poor man.

A thumb in Gordon’s direction. “Ignore him, he’s just jealous. There are days on end where we don’t get time to cook a decent meal.”

“You don’t have a cook?” Sam was frowning.

“We have Grandma.” Gordon was smiling ruefully.

“She’s a good cook?”

Virgil cut in. “Grandma is the backbone of International Rescue.”

“Your grandmother works with you?”

“Often, yes.”

“A truly family business.”

“Yes, it is.”

The conversation fell quiet a moment and Virgil took a swig of the beer in his hand.

“So, how did you become a cetacean biologist?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh, um, had an encounter, fell in love, now devoted to them forever.”

Liam snorted. “He asked about you and whales, not for our love story.”

His husband shrugged. “Pretty much the same story really. Found myself in dire straits off Waitpinga Beach while surfing, dolphin saved me.”

Gordon had obviously heard the story before. He grinned. “For a surfer, you really are crap at surfing.”

“It’s all about the image, Gordo. You know that.” But Sam was grinning as much as Gordon. “But on a more serious note,” and the grin turned into a mock glare at Virgil’s brother, “she saved my life. It was a big, life changing moment. Been saving the whales ever since.”

“I can understand that.” All the Tracys could understand that.

Sam sparked up, all eagerness and bright eyes. “So, you spoke to a whale today?”

-o-o-o-

End Day Three, Part Four

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #virgil tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #alan tracy

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growingstronglikeahighgardenrose · 4 years

Text

The Greatest Gift

The last part of my ‘The Holiday’ series, and with it also my last entry for the 12 Days of Sanditon challenge (albeit four days late). It’s been a wild ride between past and present, I had a blast exploring all characters in all kinds of settings, and I hope you did too!

Pairings: Charlotte/Sidney, Esther/Babington, Georgiana/Crowe

Characters: Charlotte, Sidney, Esther, Babington, Crowe, Georgiana, Susan, James

Prompt: The Gift/Tis the season to be jolly, for the 12 Days of Sanditon hosted by @sanditoncreative

Synopsis: Charlotte finally arrives to the holiday home as everyone is preparing for the New Year's Eve Party. She realizes with shock she has much catching up to do.

Available on AO3 (please drop a like if you enjoyed)

Over mountains cold, and rivers frozen, lay a house amidst the woods. The house was neither large nor small, it was just perfect for the amount of occupants who spent their days there. Before they’d entered the house, they’d been two separate groups of friends, acquainted but not familiar with the other. But after spending days together filled with fun excursions to Inverness and the surrounding woods, and nights drowned in alcohol, friendships were established, and relationships blossomed underneath the star filled sky.

When the missing link, one part of the reason as to why these friend groups had come together, Charlotte Heywood arrived on the thirtieth of December, she had a lot to catch up with. In just eight days, Esther, who had always been keen on keeping her personal space, had shed her old habits which had been developed through years of living in a cold household devoid of love, and was now always touching Babington in some way. She rarely sat on a chair anymore, finding the lap of her newly acquired boyfriend much preferable. Charlotte had sometimes wondered how her friend would be if she were to enter a relationship, but never had she thought that she’d dive into a relationship after just a couple of weeks of knowing someone, and get comfortable with being in a relationship so easily. But then again, no one was aware of how Esther and Babington had regarded each other with certain fondness and interest since Esther’s first year at Sanditon Uni.

James, Georgiana and Crowe boasted it had been their ‘Mistletoe Madness’ scheme which had brought the mom friend and dad friend together. Babington and Esther didn’t care to tell them anything about how it had actually happened.

But then Sidney and James laughed how Georgiana and Crowe had used their mistletoes a lot as well, always accidentally finding themselves underneath them, and regularly disappearing together. Susan smirked that James, despite mocking the four new lovers, had actually appointed her as the official proof-reader of all text messages he sent towards a girl she was interested in.

Sidney had sorely missed his girlfriend, and couldn’t be parted from her for any prolonged period of time. Now nine, the group revelled in the haze of the period between Christmas and the New Year, happy and relaxed despite the approaching finals.

It was the season to be jolly, and no sadness or dark thoughts were allowed in their holiday home.

December thirtieth passed, and everyone was looking forward to celebrate the start of the new decade. Was it to be the sweet ten years in which the world would recover from the past decade? Would stocks reach record peaks, and Wall Street boom a steady golden roar as everyone celebrated life?

The next decade was as much a mystery as the paths their lives would take after this year. Within less than a year, they would all graduate. They would never be students again. The era of absolute freedom came to an end. The real world was quickly approaching. The twenties were the decade of their twenties, and they would end ’29 in their thirties: they would find employment, get engaged, get children and pay taxes. It was a bittersweet day as they accepted the prospect, and some were more heavily affected by nostalgia for years gone by than others. But united they stood strong, encouraging each other with smiles, hugs and words of kindness.

They had no clue what would happen to their friendship in the next decade, but they were determined to at least celebrate the last day of the year, sliding into the new year Gatsby style, clanking crystal and dancing with reckless abandon. The day was spent with ice-skating, a snowman competition and preparing appetizers and desert for the festive meal. There was little work to be done for the main meal since they’d all be using the electric grills on the table to bake their own pieces of meat and vegetables, yakiniku style, the only thing they had to do was to chop some vegetables and prepare a pot of pasta salad.

After all was prepared, the girls took two bottles of fizzy martini to their bedrooms to prepare for dinner together. The men remained behind, deciding to watch the new Witcher series and start drinking as well. If the preparations for the Christmas dinner were anything to go by, the girls would take up to two hours to get ready.

Make up your mind sweet baby, right here, right now's all we got

A little party never killed nobody, so we gon' dance until we drop

A little party never killed nobody, right here, right now's all we got

In the largest bed chamber, The Great Gatsby soundtrack was playing. Esther was in the shower, Susan was doing her makeup, and Georgiana was doing Charlotte’s hair. Esther returned, starting to paint Susan’s nails a deep red, but putting a golden topcoat over her ring finger. Afterwards, the favour was returned. They all kept changing places, drinking martini and laughing, until they were all washed, their nails painted and their hair was done up in some kind of 20s style with decorative glittering hair combs and lacey headbands.

The playlist was switched to one of Georgiana’s after the album was done.

We go together

Better than birds of a feather, you and me

We change the weather, yeah

I'm feeling heat in December when you're 'round me

‘Oh, that’s our song’, Georgiana sighed happily as she plopped down on the bed, Esther crying out that she had to be careful with her hairdo.

‘That shall be one hell of a opening song on your wedding’, Susan laughed.

‘You have a song already?’ Charlotte asked with amusement.

‘Of course, don’t you?’ Georgiana asked, turning onto her belly to look at Charlotte.

‘Well, we’ve only been together for a month.’

‘And honeyboo and me have only been together for a couple of days, yet we have one. Was there never a song you two had a moment to, or which reminded you of your relationship?’

Charlotte bit her lip. Was there a song which reminded her of him? She could still remember the song they first danced to years ago. But it wasn’t representative for their relationship. Yet, yet she couldn’t help but think of him every time she heard it in the years since.

‘I have one’, Susan admitted to give Charlotte some more time.

‘Oh, which one?’ Georgiana asked.

‘It’s a bit cliché, but it’s Waterloo. It’s the song I chose as my swan song on the evening my achievements as a student representative were celebrated. It’s always been one of my favourite songs, and well, he was always there with me when it was put on. And, after all, he did have a hard time conquering me.’

‘How long have you been together with Alexander?’

‘Almost my entire studies. I think I can expect an engagement before I turn twenty-five at the pace we’re going.’

‘And you’re of course going to accept’, Georgiana smiled.

Susan nodded.

‘How… do you know? It’s easy to know you love someone, but when do you know it can be forever?’

‘When, even way past that first sweet period has passed, you still feel butterflies thinking of them. But that’s not all, that’s how you know you’re still in love. But I knew we had a real chance at staying together when, amidst all the craziness of the year in which I combined seven councils, simply receiving a text or a hug from him felt like a good night’s rest after a particularly exhausting day. All my worries and all my burdens still lay heavy on my shoulders, but he made me feel calm and strong.’

‘Oh, that sounds so wonderful. He sounds so sweet’, Esther breathed.

‘It does’, Charlotte admitted.

‘He isn’t sweet by no means. He never says everything will be alright, he never says it’s okay if I fail. He tells me what I have to hear instead, but he’s a good, supportive and capable man, and he understands that I need someone who encourages me, not someone who tells me sweet things. But I love him.’ She shook her head, as if, after all these years, she was still amazed by the love she felt.

‘I have a song, by the way’, Charlotte admitted.

‘Tell!’

‘It’s the song that played at least thrice the evening we first met. Halsey’s song: Closer.’

‘Oh, that’s cute! And it fits as well!’

‘It does?’ Charlotte asked as she put on her red velvet dress. Esther snuck to her room to get her dress and shoes.

‘Yeah! You look as good as the day I met you. I forget just why I left you, I was insane… And four years, no call… And then you met and hit it off again!’ Georgiana smiled.

‘Well it’s only been about three years and we only hit it off again after a month of weekly meetings.’

‘Details!’ Georgiana cried before finishing her glass.

‘So, Esther, how bout you and Babbers hmm?’ Georgiana asked as Esther entered the room again, glittering 20s style Mary Janes and blue flapper dress in hands.

‘Why so curious?’

‘So you have one’, Charlotte smiled.

‘Maybe I do.’

‘Oh come on Esther, you already keep secret how you two have gotten together, you can at least tell us the name of the song.’

‘Fine. I Want To Know What Love Is, satisfied?’

‘Why Esther, I never took you for a Foreigner fan’, Susan exclaimed.

‘Coincidence. Can we now stop discussing love, I’m not planning on being emotional before midnight.’

Georgiana laughed and handed Esther her glass once she’d finished zipping her dress.

‘Alright then ladies, let’s go to the living room and have some fun.’

In dark suits the men sat gathered on the couches, hair groomed and smelling good. But their preparations didn’t compare to the flurry of glittering glimmering festival to their eyes the girls presented as they descended upon them with their curled hair and sparkly jewellery and bright red lipstick. Their cheeks and beards were covered in bright lipstick, and champagne was popped.

‘You all really came prepared’, Princey laughed as he trailed his fingers down Susan’s long white gloves.

‘We agreed upon celebrating Gatsby style. We simply did as agreed upon.’

‘I’d say you did more than just that’, Crowe breathed as Georgiana rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. He wasn’t sure he’d make it till midnight without a short heated intermezzo.

She jumped upright with a smile. ‘Excuse me as I try to capture the moment.’

She photographed him like that, sat in the couch with arms raised in question, a glass of champagne filled with water in hand – he wanted to remember every minute, at least until midnight.

‘Do you like it?’ Esther purred softly as the others were occupied.

‘You have no idea.’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘You look extraordinary… Magnificent.’

‘Do I?’ she smirked as she traced his stubble with her gloved hand.

‘Miss Denham, I must beg you to spare me. I’m not afraid I’ll last the night otherwise.’

‘Who says I intend you to?’ she laughed as she readjusted her weight on his lap. He could only just supress a groan and press his lips against hers.

A flash went off, the screen presenting a figure with flaming red curls with her arms around the brown haired man she sat on top off, his hands almost reverently placed on her upper back.

Another flash captured James and Princey pointing their tongue at each other in mock disgusted of the kissing.

There's glitter on the floor after the party

Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby

Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor

You and me from the night before but

‘I’m still so confused as to how it all happened. I don’t know what to think about it’, Charlotte confessed to Sidney as they gazed at their friends.

‘I think this would be a so called… Christmas miracle’, he laughed.

‘I believe the entrance of this house must have been a portal to a Hallmark movie. It all just went so quickly.’

‘Didn’t we go quickly as well?’ Sidney asked, burying his nose against her sweet smelling neck.

‘It was different.’

‘How do we know they’re not different as well?’

‘Well, with Esther and Babington I dare not judge, but Georgie and Crowe?’

‘Hmm, two dramatic extroverted personalities seeking enjoyment together? I don’t think they’re that odd together.’

‘Perhaps not.’

‘Let us not worry. Before we worried it would be awkward introducing our friends to each other. Our fears turned out to be utterly unfounded. Let’s just enjoy this.’

Charlotte agreed, pressing her lips against his.

‘Let’s. I just can’t believe it all. I’m so happy, this is perfect. I just… Look at everyone having fun and being happy and laughing so much! And it isn’t just because they’re drunk. I’ve never seen all my friends in such a pure state of happiness for so long. I haven’t seen any of them smile so much. I think no one has gone half an hour without smiling once I arrived.’

Don't read the last page

But I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away

I want your midnights

But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

The night was filled with laughter, and the hours slid past at record speed.

Heels were kicked off and dancing took place. It really wasn’t good, and they would be divided between loathing their embarrassing postures in the pictures, and loving the photographs because of the memories they contained.

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi I can tell that it's going to be a long road I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

Midnight was approaching. Shoes were put back on again, and the girls were provided with the blazers of the men. The Final Countdown was put on – James’ final joke of 2019 – as the group started counting down. The new decade was approaching, and they all stood outside united in the snow, bottles of champagne in hand.

Ten seconds to go and the bottles were shaken, ready to be popped at midnight. They screamed and laughed their way through the countdown, and then the moment was there.

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you And I will hold on to you

Corks went flying and lips were kissed as firework shot into the sky. Streams of champagne reached for the sky as friends embraced. They could see the explosions of gold, red, purple, green and blue from the nearby city perfectly above the lake, it was even reflected on the lake. Champagne was drunk from the bottle, and group pictures were taken of all of them in the snow, with fireworks artfully exploding in the distance.

All loneliness and heartache of the past years, and all insecurity about the future was left in the old year, obliterated by the happiness of the past few days.

A new era in their lives was approaching, and they were ready for it, together, united.

Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

They would always remember the first New Year they celebrated together. Even as responsibilities started entering their lives, they always fought to keep the week between Christmas and the New Year free for each other to capture the feeling of old, and create new ones.

Slowly, people were added to the celebrations. Susan and James brought their partners with them the following year, and Princey his first serious girlfriend the year after. And then, a ring was added to the company around Susan’s finger. Esther and Babington were up next, at the ages of twenty-seven and thirty, to tie the knot. Then followed a round belly for Charlotte, who was surprised when Susan announced her flat belly contained a baby as well. And at the end of the decade, Esther announced her pregnancy and Georgiana and Crowe who hadn’t been meant to last the first time around, reunited after finally accepting all that came along with growing up, and this time they decided to put in the serious work. Crowe admitted himself to an AA program the day after New Year, they were wed the day after he got his One Year degree.

They exited the decade with a big Gatsby Party, and though they had indeed had a bigger financial strain on their backs and uncorked non-alcoholic champagne like they would’ve had it been the 1920’s, they were all still just as happy and rich in friends as they had started the decade. Their friendship had been the best gift they could’ve ever received.

____________________________________________________________

71263 words, 12 works, you guys! I'm 4 days late (10 if we count the official deadline of December 25) but I've finally wrapped up the 12 Days of Sanditon.

I want to thank everyone for reading, liking and commenting! It has been such a delight and your words of encouragement kept me convinced to persevere and wrap up the challenge even as I found myself uninspired or tired. It hasn't been my best work, I probably skipped over a lot of typo's and grammar mistakes, and the wordings and stories probably weren't always as good but I haven't written as consistently as this since I was 15! I could've probably spared myself a lot of trouble by not making my works as long (some are well over twenty pages on word), but I had a blast and I hope you did too! I love this fandom, tiny and young as it is (and it won’t get a lot better since the show’s been cancelled) and all the active people in it <3

Much love, Lynn

#12 days of sanditon

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queenmaracasandlove · 5 years

Text

You’re My Best (Sex) Friend - Roger Taylor x F!Reader - Part III (Smut)

Word Count: +3700 (sorry...)

Summary: Roger and Y/N are friends with benefits. This is perfectly fine until love comes around. Can be read as Roger x F!Reader or Ben!Roger x F!Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex (you know the deal...), alcohol, swearing

A/N: I used to love this chapter and now I’m not too sure ahah... Please tell me what you think about it. Thank you all for the support!

Part I Part II Part IV Part V

MASTERLIST

Permanent Taglist: @reedusteinrambles

It was such a special night, such a special moment. Queen was finally out there, becoming a legend in the British musical landscape. Their newest album A Night at the Opera was already platinum only a few weeks after its release and that was the last night of the European leg of their tour. It was even more special because it was recorded by the BBC and was taking place on Christmas Eve. Nothing in the world could have prevented Y/N from attending this concert.

She had not been able to come to the concerts that Queen had been playing in England’s capital earlier that month because of work but she was here tonight. She was still living in Roger’s flat but when he had came back to London for those few dates she had prefered to stay at the hotel where she was still working. She did not want to just cross paths with him for ten minutes every morning and she still has things to figure out. Y/N was still working in the hotel even though she had finally been casted in a little production but she wanted to earn as much money as she could before the end of the tour. She was extremely grateful but she did not want to ask for more than necessary and wanted to move out before the end of March.

The gig was absolutely amazing. Y/N was overjoyed and full of pride. She could not believe they were killing it so much. They were all owning that stage and the connection with the audience was breathtaking. She felt very special being able to call all those musicians her friends. She was so happy to see them from backstage, smiling every time one of them would look in her direction. She was not alone, she was surrounded by managements, few family members and friends. But now she was between Veronica and Mary and that felt weird. Because she was not one of their girlfriends even less so a wife.

These few weeks in Roger’s flat, away from him had been enough for her to reflect on the situation and to come to terms with fact that she was madly in love with Roger Taylor. She had suspected it for quite a while but never wanted to admit it. Still, as she was surrounded by his stuff, sleeping in his clothes and missing him that much there was no way to deny it. That scared her quite a bit. Because he was first and foremost one her best friend, not many people had supported her the way he did and he knew so much about her and she was terrified by her feelings.

He was so handsome behind his drums, making it look so easy with his falsettos and his blond hair, being the only one not wearing white. The concert was close to an end and Y/N’s heart was racing like mad. She had not talked to him for so long. There had been phone calls but her voice had not betrayed her, yet. Roger calling while he was on tour was unusual, at least that often. They had this little habit to keep each other updated on their lives when they could not talk face to face but it was now once a week. She had also received flowers on the first night of her show and even though the card was signed “Queen” she knew he had been the one planning it. Although she did not want to admit it she wished all those signs meant the feelings were mutual.

She had arrived right on time and had only got the time to say hello while Roger was offstage during Brian’s solo. Thankfully he had to say hi to everybody quickly and hadn’t pay too much attention to her. She had no idea how this night was going to end but she hoped more than anything that her feelings would not interfere with their friendship and behaviour.

Y/N could hear the crowd screaming their names (and Roger’s was shouted more than once) as they bowed one last time. She could not stop herself from clapping her hands or smiling, she was so proud. Roger was completely full of adrenaline because of the show. He went straight towards Y/N and took her in his arms.

“Rog’ it’s disgusting you’re so sweaty” she said, internally enjoying this as much as she could

“That was amazing right?”

“Much more than that” she smiled

And just like that he kissed her. His naked torso against her chest. It was so brief and yet both of their body had been electrified. Roger hadn’t been able to fight against this urge in him. Before they were able to say anything, Freddie’s arm was around Roger’s shoulder as he dragged him somewhere else backstage. They were about to throw a big party, it was Christmas Eve after all and they had to celebrate this incredible night.

Roger glanced at Y/N one last time before he was too far. He was so scared to have ruin everything, he was always so impulsive. He was completely obsessed by Y/N and he had been for so long now. He needed to call her every time he could, hearing her voice and making sure she was doing fine. Roger had had to face the truth too, literally because every time he had slept with a girl during the tour he would always end up picturing Y/N’s face in front of him. So he had stop, because it wasn’t fair for them and because the only thing that could make him get off was imagining Y/N naked in his bedsheets back in London. He wanted more than her body though, because that he already had in a way, no he wanted her, entirely. Because he loved her.

There were so many people, so much alcohol and other things but all felt so alive. Everybody wanted to congratulate the band for their success and the amazing show they had pulled of so it had been impossible for Y/N and Roger to talk. They looked at each other from time to time, making sure that the other was still there, in the corner of the room.

‘So, how are you?” Mary asked Y/N, stopping her from daydreaming

Mary and Y/N knew each other quite well even though they were not extremely close. They usually spent a lot of time together one the days they both attended the band’s rehearsal or parties. They liked each other’s company because they both had the same admiration and respect for the boys. Mary had been kind enough to give Y/N’s discount on new clothes for her to go to her auditions and they had gone for a cup of tea a few weeks ago.

“I’m great thanks. The play was great and I’ve taken on a new project starting in January”

“That’s amazing ! I’m so happy things are finally going great for you. You deserve it so much”

“Thank you Mary, I really appreciate it. And you? How is it going?”

She wanted to ask her about her relationship with Freddie but she didn’t. She had always felt that deep connection between them but still, she knew that something was not right, especially lately. Nevertheless she was determined to be supportive of her friends’ choices no matter what.

“Oh, it’s alright you know. I’m still working and Freddie’s on tour so I’m pretty much alone all the time. Well I have the cats but...”

Y/N could see real sadness in Mary’s eyes. She had been engaged to Freddie for a few years now and it was already they’re third tour as Queen.

“That must be hard for you” Y/N said

“Oh you know… I guess you don’t really have the choice when you’re in love with a rockstar. And if you’re in love that doesn’t really matter” she replied

Y/N looked at Roger, in the corner of the room, joking with a guy she did not know, his ridiculous wig still on his head. Would she ever be able to do the same? In the event of anything serious happening between her and Roger, would she be able to spend months without him? Was her love for him strong enough for that kind of thing? She suddenly realised how stupid it was to think about things like this and yet there had been that kiss between them.

Mary was not stupid. She could see what was going on right under her nose. She would have never believed that Roger and Y/N could be an item when they had first met a few years ago but now it was obvious. The way they had become close could be seen as unconventional but it did not lessen the genuine relationship that had flourished from it. But Mary was also aware of how hard it was to be the partner of a member of the band…

“It makes it easier to know how happy he is when he’s doing what he loved you know. I think it’s just the beginning and that’s all he’s ever wished for” she carried on “when he calls and he tells me how much fun they’re having. When I see the crowds shouting his name. That’s amazing”

“I… Yes I guess so” was all Y/N was able to reply “Let’s have another drink shall we?”

She was already quite tipsy but her brain was about to explode and she needed to find relief somewhere. All that Mary had just said was true. The blond had no intention to create such questioning in Y/N, on the contrary. But all she could think about was the hypothetical life she could have with Roger, how it was just the beginning of a long life of success and months on the road. What did she have to offer that would make him want to go home to her. She remembered what he had said about being ‘happy at home”, not the kind of life he wanted or at least that was how she interpreted his words.

She was in a middle of possessing her thoughts, finishing her glass and pouring herself another one when she noticed someone in front of her.

“I’m sorry I could not come and talk to you earlier” he said with his raspy voice, “I’m so happy you’re here. At least you’re enjoying the little party” Roger said looking at the drink in her hand

His top was still opened and sober was not the best way to describe him right now. He was looking at Y/N as if she was the most delicious piece of cake in the whole world. Y/N was immediately turned on by his gaze and shivered as he put an arm around her waist.

“I’ve missed you Roger” she said

“I’ve fucking missed you too” he whispered in her ear

He had drunk because he wanted to celebrate but also because he was afraid. Scared of how he would behave with Y/N, one of the reasons he had avoided her for so long, but now that the alcohol was rushing through his veins he could not be away from her any longer. His mouth was still next to Y/N’s head and he gently kissed her neck. He wasn’t doing anything wrong after all. They were friends with benefits and it would not be the first time that he would behave this way with her, at least on the surface.

“I want you babe”

“Then just fuck me Rog”

She was now looking at him right in the eyes, as turned on as he was. Without saying any more he grabbed her hand and led her through the hallway to an empty room. As soon as the door was closed their lips smashed against each other. It was more than sexual desire, it was passion. Their tongue were playful and so were their hands. It didn’t take long for Y/N to unbutton Roger’s pants and put her hand inside it, teasing his shaft over the fabric of his underwear.

“Fuck Y/N. You’re really in a hurry aren’t you?”

“I just want you so bad”

They had both agreed with themselves that tonight was not the night to confess but at least they could express their feelings in a way that would not betray them. Roger had now pressed Y/N against the wall. She let go of his pants so she could take off her dress, she wanted to feel his skin against hers. She needed the touch and she wasn’t disappointed. Roger was now kissing every little inch of her body as if he worshiped it. She wasn’t used to that kind of softness with him and that made her go crazier.

He went down on his knees, this time he was facing her clothed core and he immediately saw that she was dripping. A smirk appeared on his face he slowly made the little piece of clothing go down on her legs. Y/N was now completely naked in front of him as he kissed her pussy.

“Open your legs for me love”

She obeyed, moaning in anticipation, letting out a little cry when she felt his tongue lick her slit. At first he just played a little, building up the tension but not providing much pleasure until he frankly pressed his tongue against her clit. Roger made sure he found exactly the right spot before playing with it. The pleasure was to much for Y/N and she felt her knees were about to fail her.

“Rog’, I can’t…”

The drummer looked around him. The room was full of flight cases so he grabbed Y/N’s legs, holding her tight and put her onto the closest one trying not to be brutal in the rush.

“Fuck, you look so hot”

She was there, right in front of him, her legs spread and her look begging for more and it made him feel invincible. He wanted to finish his work and so he did, inserting two fingers inside Y/N before kissing her. He looked at her while moving his fingers, reading on her face the moment he would find the perfect spot and knew he had when she gasped. He started playing with it as she arched her back. Her legs were starting to shake.

“Roger, that’s so fucking good” she cried

“Say my name again love”

Right now he felt so powerful hearing his name coming out of her mouth. It was him who made her feel this way and even if he wanted more it was good enough for now.

“Roger, please” she begged

“Come on, one more time” he asked as her legs began to shake

“ROGER” she screamed as she reached her high

She was out of breath and he felt her juices pouring around his fingers. She looked so beautiful and he wanted to tell her how he felt but he could not. He was afraid to ruin everything. In the madness that was his life right now she was the constant. He needed her and he could not afford to risk everything. And it wasn’t the moment to think about that, he had business to finish. He had dreamt about being inside her for weeks and he could not wait any longer.

“Are you ready for round two?” he asked

She nodded, biting her lips in anticipation while opening her legs for him. He placed himself in front of her going in just with the tip, teasing her. She would not last long so he wanted to take his time. He went inside her and slowly started thrusting. He leaned in to kiss her as she bit his lower lips. She was already close, tightening around his cock. He started rubbing her clit. They were so close, what they were sharing at this moment had nothing to do with all their previous encounters. They were expressing all that was kept inside and it became more intense every second. Y/N’s nails were deep into Roger’s skin as he thrust deeper into her, growling.

“Cum for babe” he said

She indeed came for the second time of the night, letting out a scream. He kept thrusting into her until she was completely done. She had not felt so good for what felt like forever. He knew she would not let him down as she straighten herself up. She wanted his lips, his perfect lips. She knew she would not be able to feel them once this would be over because it would mean something else and it would not have been right. She kissed him passionately, her fingers in his blond hair before going down on his torso and then onto his erected member. She started pumping, their tongue still playing with each other. She could hear some growls escaping from his mouth.

She eventually broke the kiss and went down on her knees. She started to lick the tip of his shaft still pumping with her right hand.

“Fuck Y/N, let me cum in your mouth please”

She complied, she started to suck his length, going faster and faster and taking it deeper and deeper. The hips of the drummer helping her to find the right pace, suddenly stopping as she felt his fluids pouring into her mouth. She swallowed before getting back on her feet. They kissed one last that time, their naked bodies boiling and attracted to one another. And eventually they parted. They had so many things to say but so many reasons why not to say them at this very moment so they did not.

That was it. They silently picked up their clothes, not sure about what to do next. Usually they would go on with whatever they had to do, have a little chat maybe but the tension was palpable even after what happened. Y/N was waiting for Roger to put his pants back on and she noticed what was around his neck.

“Lovely necklace” she said

“Yeah, I bought it on the advice of a person with great taste” knowing that it was her during their afternoon in Camden

“We should probably join the others before they leave the place and we’re stuck here”

Although she secretly wished it would be the case. She would love to spend hours with him, just so they could talk although she knew deep inside that he would become mad and unbearable in less than an hour. He agreed, nodding. He would have like to hold hands but he was sure she would not want to, she had said yes for sex, not for a relationship, at least for now.

They went back to where the party which was in full swing, nobody noticing they were back because nobody had paid attention to the fact that they were gone. They got some drinks and looked at each other before they started talking, as if there was nothing more natural in the world. Everything they had wanted to tell each other, the little anecdotes about life on tour, she told him all about her new job, the little part she had played and she how was to join this new production where she would have a singing role. The phone calls were more regular but they were always very short and they did not have the time to talk about all those things. Roger pointed at some people around the room, most of them wrecked as he explained what their job was on tour. They were so happy for each other, so happy to spend this moment together and sharing.

The night went on with everybody dancing and partying. Freddie was all over the place while Veronica and John left before anyone else. Brian was completely wrecked in a corner and Y/N was laughing out loud because of Roger’s silliness. She started to dance with Freddie, Roger’s wig on her head and feeling happier than ever. At some point she fell next to Roger on one couch, completely exhausted and he took her hand into his. They were so drunk they did not notice and stayed this way for a bit, looking at the mess around them.

But time came for the night to end, he would go back to his family for Christmas day and stay there until he had to leave for North America. They were on their way to go, Roger’s arm around Y/N’s waist as they were waving to say goodbye to everybody.

“Here you are my man. That was amazing!” said one of the roadie

“Thank you” Roger answered

“I bet you’re excited about going back to the U.S right? I hope you kept the numbers of your lovely ladies that kept you busy last time. Not that you can’t find new ones eh” he winked before leaving the room

Y/N was looking at the floor, taking in what she had just heard. There was nothing wrong with it really, nothing she didn’t know and nothing Roger wasn’t entitled to do. But it hurt. Because for a moment she had thought that tonight had been special but it was not. They were just having fun and that was it, she was lucky enough to call him a friend, she could not ask for more.

Roger wanted to say something, to tell Y/N that it was not true and that he did not want to sleep with anyone but her. That he wanted her to wait for him and that as soon as he’d be back he would made her the happiest girl in the world if she agreed to be his girlfriend. But he realised how unfair that was. He could not ask her that, leaving her with just a kiss and a promise, only coming back months later. She was finally fulfilling her dream and he could not be not be an obstacle to that in any way. He would wait, until the end of the tour, and then he would properly asked her on date. He did not want to get ahead of himself and make to many projects. It needed to stay focused on the tour, this could be dealt with later.

“Happy Christmas Roger” she simply said as they were waiting for a taxi

“Happy Christmas Y/N” he replied, hugging her

They went back to the flat together, and slept in each other’s arms without saying anything, without questioning if it was good or wrong, too drunk and too tired, enjoying the warmth of their bodies intertwined.

#queenmaracasandlove #queen #queen smut #queen imagines #roger taylor #ben!roger x reader #roger x reader #roger taylor smut #ben!roger imagine #You're my best (sex) friend #queen fiction #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bohrhap

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trade-baby-blues · 5 years

Text

Americano

Pairing: Bones x Reader

Word Count: 1011

Warnings: none

A/N: Our power went out so have this short fic! Based on an anon request for prompt 12 in the Christmas challenge I started ten thousand years ago. Sorry it took so long!! But here it is!!

“Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the shop, not a coffee was sold - not even a drop,” you whispered to yourself as you wiped the counter for what must have been the tenth time in an hour. You dropped the rag with a sigh, wondering why you agreed to work Christmas Eve. Then, you thought of the empty apartment waiting for you and figured it was better to be at work. At least the shop had heat.

The bell rang as the front door opened, and you snapped your head up, a genuine smile spreading across your face at the thought of finally talking to another human being instead of the steamer. “Welcome, stranger. What can I get started for you?”

The man who approached the counter looked almost as tired as you felt. Hair stuck at odd angles, bags under his eyes, jaw clenched so tight it made your teeth hurt. “An Americano, darlin’.”

“Coming right up, darlin,” you mimicked. You swore the corner’s of the man’s mouth twitched up.The beauty of it was enough to embolden you: “Can I get your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “I’m the only customer in here.”

You shrugged. “Could get busy any second. Christmas is all about miracles, you know.”

The man pressed his lips tight together as he dropped his gaze, shuffling his feet. The air felt suddenly heavy, and you knew you’d touched a nerve. “Leonard,” he said softly. He focused on peeling off the bent edge of a sticker on the counter.

“Well, Leonard,” you said, “Go ahead and take a seat. I’ll bring your Americano to you, if I can manage to fight off this crowd.” You waved an arm across the empty cafe. Leonard snorted, lips twitching up again as he turned to park himself at a table nearby. You considered it a personal victory.

The thrill of finally having a customer sent you into overdrive and if your manager had been there she probably would've commended you for making the drink in record time. Unfortunately, she wasn't, and you were back to wiping counters and desperately trying not to ogle Leonard. He sat close enough that you could make out the muscles in his arms when he crossed them. His blue windbreaker crinkled like a candy wrapper, and you couldn't help but stare. Maybe this was your Christmas miracle.

No, you told yourself. Absolutely not. Not with a customer. You turned away from Leonard and made your way to the bakery case. Maybe a real snack would distract you from the one sitting ten feet away.

You picked through the cakes and cookies, pulling the treats that were due to be tossed and marking them out. You could still see Leonard through the glass of the case. His eyes were glazed over, his lips pulled tight together again. He looked like he was somewhere far away. Somewhere painful. Somewhere you were all too familiar with.

Laden with an armful of marked out goodies, you made your way over to Leonard’s table. You told yourself it was for the best. They’d just go in the trash otherwise. At least this way they wouldn't go to waste.

“Look,” you started, dropping the snacks onto the table as you sat across from Leonard, “I know we don't know each other, but I'm bored out of my mind, so I brought some snacks and thought maybe we could talk.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow in question as he surveyed the hoard in front of him. “I am a doctor, so I don't think I can condone this.”

You paused, chocolate croissant already halfway in your mouth, then shrugged and scarfed it down. “Your loss.” You reached forward to pull the goodies back toward yourself but put a hand on your arm to stop you. He picked up a chocolate chip cookie for himself and started munching away.

You spoke between bites of food, sharing jokes and sob stories. You were a painter, working at the café to pay the bills. Leonard was a doctor. - a hot doctor - with a heart of gold. He was supposed to see his daughter for Christmas, but he’d gotten delayed in Yemen where he was working with Doctors Without Borders.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “This is starting to feel like a Hallmark movie. I mean, could you be more perfect?”

“Don't think my ex-wife would agree with you.”

“Please, anybody that would let you go clearly doesn't have taste.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I have taste,” you laughed, trying to ignore the butterflies kicking up in your stomach, “look at this feast I prepared us.” You waved your hand towards the now empty snack wrappers and crumbs that littered the table.

Leonard laughed. It echoed around the empty room like a song. “Maybe we can feast on something a little healthier next time.”

“Next time?” You tried to bite back the smile, but failed miserably.

“Yeah. I thought we could go for a cup of-”

“Coffee? Really? Do you...do you know where we are right now?”

Leonard laughed again, a deep belly laugh that warmed you up better than any cup of coffee could. “Fair point. How ‘bout a drink then? I know a good bar downtown. Plus, the owner owes me a favor so I can probably get us free drinks.”

“Mmmm, you just said the magic words.” The bell chimed again as a young couple walked in. “Guess that’s my cue,” you said, pulling a sharpie out of your pocket. You grabbed Leonard’s hand and scribbled your number on it. “Text me sometime.”

You smiled at the couple, now at the counter, and took their orders. Your phone buzzed as you fixed their drinks. There was a new message from an unknown number. If this is a Hallmark movie, does that mean you're my Christmas miracle? Your eyes shot up to Leonard, but his table was empty, the trash and crumbs already cleared away. Smiling, you tucked the phone back into your pocket and walked the drinks over to the couple.

Tags: @8bit-arc-reactor @jimtkirkisabitch @sjlovestory @kristaparadowski @outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @thefanficfaerie @slither-in-a-half @cuddlememerrick @reading-in-moonlight @resistance-is-futile81

#star trek imagine #leonard mccoy imagine #leonard mccoy x reader #doctor mccoy imagine #doctor mccoy x reader

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medeasfleece · 5 years

Text

Tolkien Secret Santa!

@officialtolkiensecretsanta MERRY CHRISTMAS @meg-pond!!!!!!!!!!! I’m your Secret Santa for the Tolkien gift exchange this year. I saw that you said you liked Faramir and also exploring the dynamics between siblings, so I wrote a tiny fic about Faramir’s grief for Boromir after the end of ROTK for you. I haven’t written fanfiction in YEARS so I hope it’s okay. I really enjoyed working on it, and I might even continue it later. I also made you a short playlist but I’m going to post that later (I need to move it from Spotify to YouTube since my Spotify is linked to Facebook and I don’t want to doxx myself lol).

Here it is, below the cut:

Foretellings

‘What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve?

Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve.'

'Ask not of me where he doth dwell -- so many bones there lie

On the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky;

So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea…’

-- Legolas’s song for Boromir.

When my brother left, my heart foretold (and my mind paid it no attention) that he would not return living. He picked up the old horn and slung it over his back with a motion of his hands that was both deft and thoughtless. I was surprised to remember how often I had clung to his hands as a small child as we walked through the marketplace of the city. He had urged me to do that, knowing that I would be lost in the crowd, small as I was.

Our father bade him farewell tearlessly. Indeed, to my knowledge, it had been a long, long time since he had wept. I was very young when our mother died. My memory, however, is perhaps longer than that of most men, and I can clearly recall how he stood by her bier with his eyes closed and made no sound. I gazed at her body as long as I could while we mourned, but Boromir avoided it; not out of fear of her corpse, for he had never feared death. He told me later that the uneasiness he felt at seeing our father like that had been too great for him.

Although, in general, Boromir had none of that false fear of grief that plagues so many, he could never endure the sight of our father in the grip of any feeling. The last Ruling Steward was a stern man, and though many men and women were under his rule, he was strictest in mastery with himself. Therefore, perhaps it pained my brother too much to see that severity troubled; if something could pierce his father’s iron self-mastery, then who could endure? A boy of ten years, who loved his father as much as Boromir did, would pass through a double grief; both his mother gone, and his father (hitherto so composed) at a loss.

It was after our mother’s death that our father began to show his preference for Boromir. It puzzled me then, small as I was, though now I can see the causes more clearly. The first was inevitable. As Mithrandir said once, I resemble Denethor more than my brother did, and Father did not love mirrors. Boldhearted Boromir was easy to love, and moreover he was firstborn. The second reason was that it was after my birth my mother fell ill. Perhaps bearing me was the cause, and perhaps not; it is recorded that “it seemed to men that she withered in the guarded city,” and Denethor’s accession to Steward would have only increased her heartsickness.

The last cause, I think, was not the smallest. My mother’s love blended with Denethor’s such that the inequity between his love for Boromir and me was less. Her death made him harder and colder.

Well, all of that is past. I forgave Denethor long ago, and I did not resent Boromir for being more beloved. Our brotherhood was too dear to hold any resentment, and I knew my brother loved me. He protected me, and as we grew older I did the same in return. And the love our father bore him was, at times, burdensome. The burden of the future stewardship was also no small thing--still is no small thing, though the king is returned. My own son is no more than an infant, but when I take him from his mother’s arms, I feel as though I am holding not just his own small weight but the heaviness of his future office, and my hands tremble against my will. Eowyn, too, feels it--without words our eyes meet, and we sense our misgivings reflected in each other.

A burden still, I think. Yet one without bitterness. Would that you, my brother, had not passed down the Anduin, and could have seen the city reborn; would that you, too, could see your children playing in the gardens of purified Ithilien. Would that you had lived to see a Gondor free from fear and the foreboding of evil, if not from grief. But, perhaps, you are now somewhere where grief, too, cannot reach.

#tolkiensecretsanta2018 #lotr #faramir #boromir

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gray-autumn-sky · 5 years

Text

Sleepless in Seattle, Chapter 3

December 24, 1992- Seattle, Washington:

Christmas music plays gently in the background as Robin uncorks a bottle of wine, dividing it into three glasses. He smiles as he watches Ruby come up behind Belle, resting her chin on her shoulder as her arms wrap around her waist as Belle flips through the TV Guide.

“What are you looking for?”

“Something that’s not It’s a Wonderful Life,” Belle sighs. “I love that movie, but--”

“They’ve already played it on two channels today.”

“You know how I feel about repeats.”

“I know, I know,” Ruby sighs. “You made that perfectly clear when I suggested that claymation Rudolph movie this morning.”

“I just don’t understand why three films get played over and over and over again year after year after year.”

Robin laughs softly as he watches Ruby press a kiss to Belle’s cheek. “It’s a losing argument, Ruby. She’s been this way since she was ten.”

Belle bristles and he grins as Ruby’s hold on her tightens. “How about that--”

“What?”

“An Affair to Remember.”

“That’s not a Christmas movie.”

“Not the hit-you-over-the-head kind of Christmas movie, but--” Belle looks back specifically and Ruby looks to him, obviously looking for an ally. “Come on, Robin. Tell her.”

“I… wish I could help, really,” he says, carefully lifting the three glasses. “But I’ve never seen it.”

Ruby looks offended and it makes him laugh. “Well, now we have to watch it.”

“Fine,” Belle sighs, taking one of the glasses. “If you two are going to gang up on me--”

“We’re hardly--”

“You’re being dramatic,” Ruby says, finally letting go of her and circling around to the other side of the couch in search of the remote. “Robin, you’ve really never seen this?”

He shakes his head and reaches for a plate of Christmas cookies that Roland decorated for Santa, and he selects a lopsided little reindeer with M&M eyes and a chipped antler--then gingerly, he bites off his head. “Marian wasn’t really a… romantic movie sort of girl.”

“Ah--”

“And it’s not quite something I’d pick up on my own.”

“Come on it’s got Cary Grant and--”

“She’d leave me for Cary Grant,” Belle interjects as she sits back on the couch and tugs Ruby down beside her, pouting as if she’s actually upset about the prospect. “In a heartbeat.”

“You realize he’s both dead and a man, right?”

“Well--”

They both stop, and suddenly, his chest feels tight.

Since Marian’s death, Ruby and Belle have been constants in his and Roland’s lives. They’ve been there for everything--from random dinners during the week to Roland’s soccer games all summer to school events, even suffering through the First Grade Thanksgiving Concert in which thirty-two first graders played songs on their recorders--hitting almost all of the high-pitched notes at the same time. They’d become regulars in their lives, keeping them in their established routines and doing their best to fill the void.

But occasionally, they forgot themselves or something came across in a way they didn’t mean. Usually it was less overt--a reference to something Marian used to make for dinner or asking why there was an empty bottle of lotion in the medicine cabinet, and once when Belle had been helping him to switch out Roland’s summer clothes for fall and winter ones, she’d found an old sweater in a hamper and as she pulled it out, she’d snagged it and both his and Roland’s faces had crumpled.

It was never intentionally, but it stung, and he was convinced that they always felt worse than he did. Of course, whenever things like that happened, it reopened old wounds, making them sting and bleed again--but this time was different, and this time made him sad for a completely different reason. Now, it wasn’t just that he missed her, it wasn’t just that he wanted her back, but now he had to live with the realization that didn’t sting as badly as it would have a month ago, it didn’t bleed the same way. Still, it hurt and still, he missed her--and somehow that seemed like a betrayal, like moving would be betraying her memory.

And moving on was unfathomable.

“Robin, I’m--”

“It’s okay,” he insists, trying to muster a smile. “It is.”

“No, I shouldn’t have--”

“Maybe we should just… put on the movie.”

His eyes press closed. “I didn’t mean--”

“You didn’t do or say anything wrong,” Ruby tells him. “I did.”

“No, I--”

“Daddy--”

They all stop and turn toward the stairs, their eyes falling to Roland who sits on the bottom step, hugging his knees to his chest as he sniffles back tears.

“Hey, you--”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?

“Santa’s waiting for you to--”

Before he can even rise from the couch, Roland’s face crumbles, and by the time he reaches him, scooping him up and cradling him in his arms, the boy is sobbing.

“Shh, Roland, whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not okay.”

“Roland--”

“I forgot!”

“What?” He pulls back a little to look his son in the eye. “What did you forget?”

“Mama’s letter!”

He blinks. “What letter?”

“To Santa.”

Helplessly, he looks to Belle and Ruby who shake their heads and shrug. “Roland, what letter? You wrote one in school and--”

“We always wrote one and left it with the cookies,” he cuts in. “And I forgot.”

For a moment, all he can do is stare. He didn’t know about a letter, he barely knew about the cookies. Marian always had her own traditions with Roland, things they shared together. It wasn’t that he was excluded--they both had special little traditions with Roland--and usually he spent the time that they were baking and getting ready for Santa wrapping presents and making sure everything was properly assembled and had the necessary batteries. Once the cookies were set out and the presents were wrapped, they both tucked Roland into bed then retired downstairs, cuddling up together in front of the fire, watching the lights sparkle on the tree.

“It’s okay, son,” Robin says, kissing his cheek and wiping away his tears. “Santa hasn’t come yet.”

“But I forgot.”

“But you remembered now.”

Roland nods, but his face crumbled. “What if I forget her?”

“You won’t,” Robin says, his heart aching as he smiles. “You might… remember specific things less and memories might not always be as clear, but you won’t forget her.” Roland blinks and sniffles, but his eyes stay locked with his. “You know, you have her eyes and her smile?”

“I do?”

Robin nods. “I see her every time I look at you.”

“You do?” he asks, a little grin tugging up at one corner of his mouth. “Every time?”

“Well, when you smile and laugh, I do.” Leaning in, he kisses his forehead and rubs his nose against Roland’s. “And you know what else?” Roland shake his head. “She wouldn’t want you to be feeling bad on Christmas.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “That’s true. Christmas was her favorite.”

“It was,” Robin tells him, a little laugh rising into his voice. “Do you remember the year she made us string popcorn?”

Giggling, Roland nods. “I kept eating it.”

“Off of the tree!”

A smile spreads across his lips as he laughs. “It tasted good!”

“And then what happened.”

Roland frowns. “I got a stomach ache.”

“And then?”

“Mom made me peppermint tea.”

“And then?”

“She got worried that I ate some glue.”

“And why did she think that?”

“Because you glued the popcorn to the string.”

“Do you remember why?”

He nods. “Because you didn’t listen when she was showing you how to knot the string.”

Robin laughs. “That’s right.”

“And she laid in my bed and read me stories until I fell asleep.”

Swallowing the lump at the back of his throat, Robin forces himself to smile--and again, it hurts that it’s not that difficult. “See,” he tells him. “You do remember her.”

“Yeah,” Roland nods, grinning at him. “I guess I do.”

Kissing his cheeks again, Robin turns them back to the living room where Ruby and Belle are waiting for them with tears in their eyes--and together, the four of them sit down at the coffee table and write the nearly forgotten letter to Santa.

_____

December 24, 1992: Greenwich, Connecticut:

Regina takes a dish from Mal and dries it, trying to ignore the fact that after the dishes are done there’s still food to be divided up into tupperware containers and a handful of presents to wrap, and though it’s well-past midnight, she knows it’ll be hours before she’s able to go to bed.

“So,” Mal begins, nudging her arm as she soaps up a dish. “Daniel was here.”

“Yes, he was,” Regina says, grinning over at her. “You’re so observant.”

Mal’s eyes roll. “Inviting the boyfriend to Christmas dinner--”

“Christmas Eve dinner.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not,” Regina insists, unsure of why this is even something that she’s arguing. “Christmas Eve is you and Lily, and Henry and me--”

“And Daniel.”

“Yes, and Daniel,” she sighs. “But Christmas is… my parents.”

“Your mother.”

“Unfortunately.”

“So, is he… coming over tomorrow?”

Biting down on her lip. “I told him he didn’t have to.”

Mal’s brow arches as she runs the dish under the running water. “What a welcoming invite. I’m sure he just snapped that up.”

“It’s not like he hasn’t met them before.”

“Meeting your girlfriend’s parents when you’re sixteen is very different than meeting them when you’re thirty-four.”

Regina blinks, and for a moment, she feels lost in the conversation. “So, are you saying he should or shouldn’t be coming? Because--”

“I’m not saying either.”

“Oh.”

“But judging by the way he kissed you goodnight, he wants to come over tomorrow.”

Regina blinks. “What?”

“Oh come on…”

“No… I just… what do you mean?”

For a moment, Mal just stares at her, then she scoffs and shakes her head. “You have no idea how crazy he is about you, do you?”

Hesitating, she bites down on her lip, taking a ready-to-dry plate from Mal. “I… like him, too.”

“You like him?” Mal asks, reaching for another dish to wash and frowning when she finds it caked in dried up gravy. “Regina, this isn’t the ninth grade anymore.”

“I am very aware of—“

“Are you in love with him?”

This shouldn’t be a difficult question; and really, it’s not. She does have feelings for Daniel and she loves having him around. He makes her laugh and feel cared for, he’s always there to offer an ear whenever she needs to vent—no matter how petty—and he’s made such an effort to get to know her son. Right from the start, things were comfortable and Daniel’s presence in her life—regardless of her own trepidation—was nothing short of a blessing. After a disastrous marriage, she was working on reclaiming herself, remembering who she was before she was Leopold’s wife and figuring how she’d changed and what she wanted from the world.

Daniel was kind and patient, and he never pushed her. He was simply content to just be there with her. They went on fun little dates—usually now involving Henry—and he came over for dinner almost every night.

In a lot of ways though, it felt like they were playing house. They were going through the motions without any of the commitment—and though she hadn’t quite admitted it to anyone, she liked that open-ended, go-with-the-flow sort of relationship.

Her marriage had been hard; and this was the exact opposite. It was easy and offered her companionship without any of the trappings that usually came along with it.

“I love him,” she says, after too long of a pause. “I do love him.”

“That’s different.”

She blinks as she accepts the dish from Mal. She knows that it is. “It’s not.”

“Regina, come on—“

“I love him, Mal. I’d be crazy not to.”

“That would carry a lot more weight if you weren’t so well-known for doing crazy things every now and then.”

She watches as Mal reaches for the soap. “Name one thing that—“

“You married a man you didn’t even like because your mother told you you should, then you stayed married to him for an entire decade.”

Regina’s shoulder square—she wasn’t quite expecting that. “Oh.”

With a sigh, Mal turns off the water and turns to face her, leaning up against the edge of the sink. “You do know that it’s okay not to be in love with him, right?”

Her eyes fall down to the soapy water. “But that’s just it… I… I think I might be. Or, at least, I could be.” Tentatively, she looks up, biting down on her bottom lip. “I… think I might just need to get out of my own way.”

“Well, I won’t argue with that,” Mal scoffs, flipping the water back on. “How does Henry feel about all this?”

“That’s not exactly something I discuss with my nine year old, Mal.”

Mal’s eyes roll. “I mean does Henry like Daniel? How does he feel about him being around?”

“He does.” A smile pulls onto her lips. “They… sort of have a thing whenever Daniel comes over.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s cute. I really thought Henry was going to be done with Boy Scouts this year, but Daniel seems to have renewed his interest.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Regina nods, grinning. “He helped him get two patches this fall.”

“That’s good.”

“It is,” Regina agrees, nodding. “It… it really is.”

Again, she focuses on the dish she’s drying, momentarily losing herself in thought—there was absolutely no valid reason she had for not being in love with him—and maybe, she thought, she didn’t actually know what being in love felt like. After all, it's hard to understand something you’ve never personally experienced.

“Regina, you know that—“

“I know that he makes me happy. I like being with him. I like spending time with him, and I love the way he cares about Henry. I like having something to come home to who actually seems like they’re glad to see me. I like having someone to eat dinner with and talk to and—“

“That doesn’t mean—“

“How do you know?” she asks, bristling with defense. “Maybe I am in love with him. Maybe—“

“Okay, okay,” Mal cuts in, handing her the last dish to dry and shutting off the water. “Relax. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Regina takes a breath. It's not Mal’s fault, its hers. For years, she dulled her own pain by ignoring it, and she never imagined that a consequence was that she’d also dull her ability to feel other things—but as she considers the last several months, that’s the only thing that makes sense to her.

Mal moves away from the sink and grabs an already-opened bottle of wine. “No use in letting this go to waste,” she says, grinning. “Let’s finish it off.”

Nodding, Regina sets the plate on the dish wrack, accepting the glass from Mal as she follows her into the living room—and as soon as she sits down and takes the first sip, she feels a bit better. “This is good,” she murmurs, smelling the wine and breathing in the oaky scent. “Where did you get it?”

“I didn’t get it,” Mal tells her. “Daniel did.”

For some reason, that makes her smile. Daniel isn’t a wine drinker. This wouldn't have been something he just had. He bought it with her in mind.

She takes another sip and curls her legs underneath herself. “We still have to stuff stockings.”

“I know,” Mal murmurs, making no effort to get up. “We will.”

“I have some games and things for Henry in my car and—“

“I miss that.”

“What?”

“Getting ‘games and things’ for Lily’s stocking.”

“What did you get her this year?”

“Gift cards. It’s what she wanted,” Mal tells her, sounding a bit sad as she sighs and sips the wine. “And a pack of nicorette gum.”

“Subtle.”

Mal shrugs. “Subtle hasn’t been working. I’m trying the sledgehammer approach now.”

“Well, that sounds fun.”

“It’s cathartic, really.”

“Poor Lily.”

“Poor me.”

Regina grins and leans back, her brow furrowing when something scratchy ruins against the back of her neck—And as she turns, she sees Daniel’s blazer hanging over the side of the couch. “Oh, he must have left this,” she murmurs, pulling the jacket into her lap and rubbing her fingers over the navy blue wool. “He looked nice in this.”

“It's a good color on him.”

“It brought out his eyes.” Regina says, grinning as she looks to Mal. “He has really pretty eyes.”

“He—“

Mal’s voice halts as Regina folds the blazer over her arm and out of the pocket falls a receipt.

“What’s that?”

“I don't know,” Regina murmurs, watching as Mal cranes her neck curiously—and then, her breath catches in her chest. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Mal asks, leaning in closer. “What is it for?”

“It’s… from a jewelry store.”

“Ooh, someone’s getting a nice gift.”

She blinks as her stomach tightens and an indescribable feeling overtakes her. “Someone’s getting a ring.”

#oq ff #outlaw queen #advent 2018

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yehet-me-up · 6 years

Text

The Science of Attraction

Pairing: Hansol/Vernon x Reader (female)

Word Count: 3,669

Genre: Camp Counselor AU, Christmas fic

Rating: (F) - fluff/SFW

Summary: The 3rd Annual Jasper College Winter Camp Christmas Competition is off to a heated start. The middle schoolers you’re in charge of at your college’s winter break camp are a mess of hormones and crushes. But no one is more affected by the season than the counselors.

“You like him, don’t you?” says the sassy thirteen year old next to you for the third time.

Your jaw drops and you pause in your decorating to look at her. Bethany came to camp last year, as a twelve year old, and has only become more forthright and nosy in the year since. You snap your jaw shut and re-focus on stringing lights around the tree in the common room, ignoring her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say in a desperate attempt to stop her loud, incessant questions.

“I think you do, and like, he’s soooo cute. And funny. And sweet. Why wouldn’t you?” she demands and you can feel her intent stare as she untangles more lights for you.

You give in and look across the large space to where to boys group is working on their tree. Although, you think with a laugh, it’s more resembling a trash heap at this point. One of their counselors, Vernon, is sitting on a couch, drinking a hot chocolate and directing his horde of middle schoolers around like basketball coach.

You allow yourself a moment of weakness, three seconds to take in the casual way his hair falls over his forehead. The twist of his lips, the amusement in his eyes, as he lords over the space, his arm slung over the back of the couch. He’s like the big brother every camper wishes they had; all of the boys at camp look up to him with awe.

His head turns, as if drawn by your attention, and you snap back to face the tree so quickly your hair whacks you in the face. A flush rises in your cheeks and you fumble with the lights, desperate to not be caught staring. After a minute you look over at Bethany, who is handing you more lights with a look that so clearly says ‘told you so’ you want to burst out laughing.

“I’ll tell Adam Rockford you like him if you say anything,” you tease and her eyes go wide. She opens her mouth to say something frantically but you cut her off. “How about we keep this between ourselves, hmm?” you offer, holding out your hand in a truce.

She closes her jaw with a hmph and sighs, holding out her hand with resignation and shakes yours. She narrows her eyes with renewed focus at the tree. “Now, let’s get a move on. We’ve got to kick their asses. You know what’s at stake.”

You laugh - she looks like a mini general, your right hand in the battle for the victory. The dorm is relatively quiet for a Saturday afternoon. When school’s in session it’s a crush of bodies coming and going. Students off to late night study sessions, returning from sports practice, holing up in their dorms with movies and friends, or off to parties large and small.

You smirk, thinking about how if this were any other Saturday night you’d be with your best friend, Claire. Either you drag her to the arcade in the basement of Miller Hall with your Astronomy major friends or she drags you to her sorority, forcing you into a dress and making you hang out at yet another get together in some fraternity’s basement.

You’re definitely the odd couple – her the fashion merchandising major with the Louis Vuitton scarves and designer handbags, you the with the beat up Converse sneakers, permanent pen marks on your hands from doodling too much, and endless supply of space pun sweatshirts. Today’s reads Why didn’t the Dog Star laugh at the joke? It was too Sirius.

But you’d bonded over stapling reams of paper in the counseling during your work study placements freshman year and had only grown closer the last two years. She was off in Paris with her family, but she was obsessively teasing you about Vernon, asking how good he was looking this year and making you want to toss your phone into the nearest body of water.

Now that it’s winter break the dorms are almost empty of students. Your school is near a wealthy community, filled with parents wanting to get out of town for the holidays; off to islands and tropical resorts. Desperate for some time away, without kids. So two years ago your school offered free room and board for two weeks over the holidays to anyone who wanted to be a counselor at the ‘camp.’

You agreed of course. Your family isn’t big on holiday celebrations, and the break gave you plenty of time to get a head start on your reading for next quarter, and to use the showers without anyone else around.

The only ones staying in the building aside from the security guard were the fifty or so students, seven counselors, and the faculty member who agreed to oversee this; Angie Callaghan, an English professor who was way more excited about the idea of a competition than any of the counselors or the students.

The first year it was simple – the team with the best floor decorations got to pick what movie everyone watched on Christmas Eve. The second year, things escalated. There was a cookie baking competition and a contest to see which team could wrap the most presents in ten minutes.

This year, Angie’s gone all out. Tree decorating. Caroling. An Elf movie quoting challenge. Her right hand woman, a senior Architecture student named Sydney, has a permanent clipboard tucked under her arm, recording points. It was cute, you thought, how into it the kids got. They threw out taunts left and right to each other, tried to sabotage the other team’s efforts.

And this year you’d heard that the teams had made a side bet under the table. The losing group has to run outside barefoot on New Year’s Eve in only their pajamas. Hence, Bethany’s steely focus as she critiques your light placement. A squad of pre-teen girls swarm around you, laying out ornaments and discussing strategy with an intensity usually reserved for disarming bombs.

A loud laugh comes from the other side of the room and your attention is once again drawn to Vernon. He’s bent over laughing at a boy who’s making a very inappropriate gesture with two ornaments. His eyes crinkle in the corners and you feel out of breath all of a sudden, struck again by how good looking he is, how magnetic his energy is.

When he showed up to the meeting for counselors freshman year with you, you were shocked. Two years ago he was the stereotypical frat guy. Black baseball cap on backwards, looking for everything in the world like he was trying to act as if he was too cool to be there.

But over those first two weeks you saw the crack in his mask. The genuine smile that came to his face when he watched Blake Anderson get up his nerves and talk to his crush. How he stayed up late at night cleaning up the dishes and cups from the common room.

The way he swelled with pride when several of the students asked him what he wanted to major in over breakfast one day. He rambled on about business and majoring in something practical for a minute before he’d stopped short. Realized who he was talking to, realized he didn’t have to pretend to give a crap about ‘practical careers.’

He promptly started talking at the speed of light about his passion for video games and his desire to code the next Halo or Call of Duty. You were at the next table, grinning into your orange juice as the façade of the ‘too cool’ boy melted away to reveal someone who was just as big of a nerd as you were.

The next year was even worse for you and the crush you were so intent on denying. You found him in the common room one night, consoling Bethany while she cried about how her parents had gone on vacation without her. And how she didn’t think they cared about her. He’d taken a deep breath, looked at her with her head in her hands, tears streaming down her cheek, looking like he wanted to cry himself at her distress. He’d turned and seen you in the doorway.

You motioned to her to ask if he needed help and he happily scooted over to let you join them. The three of you had stayed up half the night, listening to her talk, offering words of comfort, stories, laughter and jokes to make her feel better. After she went to bed the two of you had sat there in a bubble of silence, regarding one another as if you’d each seen a new side of the other that you hadn’t noticed before.

You didn’t run into each other too much on campus, large that it was. Your departments, astronomy and computer science were only vaguely in the same sphere. But with your best friend’s involvement in the Greek life on campus, you saw him every now and again at parties. You gave each other friendly waves, nods of acknowledgement, as you passed in hallways, coming out of classrooms, in various living room parties.

But now here you both are, yet again. Together in this in-between place, once more. Halfway between fall and winter quarters. Halfway between real life and this magical, dreamy holiday place. It’s getting harder and harder to stop yourself from wanting him.

He’s never said anything about it, but you’ve felt his eyes on you. Seen the way that his attention lingers on you in counselor meetings. Noticed that he always tries to stand next to you in line for breakfast, giving you a wry smile when inevitably some hyper twelve year old cuts between.

For someone who belongs to the largest fraternity on campus, he’s much more subtle than you would have expected. Wise beyond his years. Not that it doesn’t frustrate you to no end that he’s never made a move, but you can appreciate those qualities about him – his patience, the way his keen eyes seem to take in every detail of a person. The knowing smile he’d given you two days ago the night before camp began when you walked into the dorm together.

If the Christmas Competition is for the students, the unspoken challenge between you and Vernon is a game just for the two of you. Neither of you acknowledging this… thing between the two of you for the last few years. But this year feels different, the normal holiday magic feels charged with electricity.

Last night, the first of camp, everyone had participated in the annual decorating of the dorm floor you were all staying on. Being the tallest of the group, he was chosen to hang the ceremonial mistletoe. You were pouring apple cider for everyone in the kitchen, but you’d come out just in time for him to step off the ladder. His eyes had caught yours, looking back between the mistletoe and you before giving you a knowing grin and walking off to put the ladder away.

Frozen to the spot, you’d looked after him with a mix of longing and frustration, thinking he’ll be the death of you. Now he’s sitting on the couch with his legs wide, an easy grin on his face, and you can’t decide if you want to kiss him or dump water on him. A mix of both, if you’re honest.

Finally finished with the lights, you move onto the ornaments, staunchly ignoring the way that you can feel his eyes on you as you stretch up to reach the top branches. Your team finishes first, of course. You pack up the supplies and head off to the store room with a smug look at him, giving the boy’s disaster of a tree a raise of your brow.

The dorm being used for storage is a dangerous mix of boxes, packages, and wrapping paper. You do your best to organize the chaos for a few minutes, but suddenly you feel a presence behind you. Turning, you see Vernon in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded.

“Can I help you?” you ask, feigning ignorance that there’s anything in the air between you two.

“Would you like a hand?” he offers innocently, motioning to the leaning tower of bags and boxes.

“Oh, fine,” you huff out, edgy at the thought of being with him in such an enclosed space.

He gives you a grin that nearly stops your heart before dramatically rolling up the sleeves of his sweater and diving in.

“So, how were your fall classes?” he asks as he tries to balance an armload of wrapping paper.

“Fantastic,” you start, intending to give a one-word answer, but your excitement keeps you talking. “I’m finally in the advanced courses so we’re actually getting to work on real projects. We’re helping out the local lab with charting the beginnings of a comprehensive Oort cloud diagram,” you say, your voice raising several octaves in your excitement.

When you look over at him he’s watching you with a soft smile, paused in his movements. You impulsively bring your hand to your face, worried that there’s something wrong. “What is it?” you ask, and he blinks and shakes his head.

“Nothing. It’s just - you’re so cute when you talk science,” he says and turns to set down the paper on the desk, completely missing the way your jaw drops.

Without a coherent response to that you busy yourself with organizing the boxes of granola bars on the dresser. “What about you, I think I heard you got an internship at Bethesda?” you ask, trying to keep your curiosity to a normal level.

He turns around, eyes wide and excited. “Yes, it’s been incredible. The new RPG they’re designing – well, I cant give you any details, but it’s going to be huge. I can’t believe they accepted me,” he says and rubs his hand on his neck in a nervous gesture.

“I’m not surprised,” you start. “Jeff Calkins in my advanced database management course says you’re wildly talented. A direct quote.”

He looks stunned for a moment, then his lips pull back into a proud grin, making him too like a little boy who just won a first prize. You spend the next half an hour discussing your majors, your internships, both reveling in the fact that someone in your life understands your obsessions and passions.

His hands make quick work of the mess, his body coming into your orbit as you move around each other; bouncing around each other like atoms in the small dorm room. The connection you feel to him only escalates as you watch his mouth form words with care, every syllable sincere and passionate.

Your gaze lingers too long on him, unable to tear yourself away. The curiosity that’s been building in you for the last two years seems to simmer to the surface on this night, in this room. Your hands fumble with an extra string of lights as the fantasies you’ve had come rushing through your mind.

His lips on yours, his hands on your hips, pressing you against the closet door of your dorm.

His hand holding yours at parties, the sun you orbit around, no longer adrift on your own.

His front pressed to your back, his hands next to yours as you play Space Invaders at the arcade.

Someone who can understand the need you have to make order of the universe, to create art out of data and numbers. Someone who exists between worlds, between cliques, with you.

“Y/N?” he asks from behind you, startling you from your thoughts.

You turn around to find him watching you, hands in his pockets, hip resting against the desk. “Sorry, I spaced out for a sec, what did you say?” you ask in a rush, your eyes unable to stop from wandering to his lips.

His own gaze is distracted, taking in your flushed cheeks, the way you hold the string of lights as though it’s the only thing grounding you to reality. He leans off the desk, walking a step closer to you.

“I asked if you were seeing anyone,” he says in a low voice, laced with hope. His warm eyes find yours, taking a deep breath in just as you feel all the air leave your lungs.

Your brow furrows, your brain seemingly unable to form these words into a concept you can understand. You tell yourself you’re hallucinating, suddenly worried that your logical, fact based mind has slipped into insanity and started merging your dreams with reality.

“Huh?” is all you can say, your shoulders slumping, lips pouting in confusion.

He laughs, delighted by your disbelief. Closing the distance between you in two strides, his hands pull the string of lights from you and set them on the bed. Gently he steps up to you, sliding his fingers between your own and staring down at where your hands have become interlocked.

“Are you seeing anyone? I’ve always felt like we’d be good together. We somehow kept missing each other, passing each other. But I came to camp this year determined to find out if you want me too,” he says, slow and steady, as if knowing how surprising this must be for you. This sudden declaration of feeling.

“I just – no? I’m not seeing anyone,” you manage, your sanity returning. “Wait. You and me? Really?” you ask, wanting to reaffirm that these are actual, real words he said. That he means what you think he does.

He nods, his eyes alight with laugher. “Yes, Y/N. You. Me. Together,” he says like he would explain to a child and you purse your lips at him.

“You know how I feel about you,” you say plainly, wondering if he could somehow have missed the way you’ve been drawn to him these past two years.

“I have no idea,” he says with a grin. “Why don’t you tell me about it.”

You let out a laugh, lips twisting into a wry smile. “Well, first there’s the science thing. God, I love when you talk nerdy to me, too-” you start. Your words trail off on a sigh as he bends forward to place a chaste kiss to your cheek. A noise leaves you as his lips move lower, trailing down your neck, something between a whine and a moan.

“No, no, keep going, I’m enjoying this,” he says, teasing, his hot breath brushing your ear. His lips find the sensitive skin of your neck and you let out a surprised sound. You smother it with your hand, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention to the room.

Your eyes drift close as he continues to press warm, open-mouthed kisses there. You lick your lips and do your best to continue. “And you are so good with the campers, they love you. You show them that it’s okay to belong to lots of different groups, to be many different things at once.”

Finally he pulls back, the lightness in his eyes turning into something deeper. “I want to kiss you. So tell me right now if you don’t like me,” he laughs, releasing your hands and bringing his up to hold your face.

“I like you,” you say in a rush. A second later he bends down to press his lips against yours, the moment stretching out as you try to wrap your mind around the fact that he’s actually here, in front of you, wanting you too.

You bring your hands to his waist, folding yourself into his warmth as you remove any remaining space between your bodies. He moves against you, slanting his lips against yours and capturing them fully. You sigh against him, disbelief turning to passion as you catch up and pull back, needing to look him in the eye.

“So, wait. You like me too?” you ask with a grin.

He laughs quietly, brushing your hair behind your ear with one hand. He nods, looking down at you with a cute smile.

“Tell me all about it,” you say in a light voice, leaning over to press a kiss to his jaw, making him swallow dramatically.

“Okay, let’s start with the fact that you have the current high score on Space Invaders, because that is incredibly hot…” he starts and you smile against his skin.

You emerge back into the main common room together, much later that night - hair ruffled, lips red and swollen, hands clasped together. The space is blissfully absent of middle schoolers or any other adults. The two trees stand at opposite ends, direct contrasts in skill level and aesthetic appeal. You stare at the mess that is the boys tree and smother a giddy laugh that he immediately notices.

“Don’t say it,” he groans, his hands tickling your waist until you laugh and have to slap his hands away.

“But-” your start, holding your hand out indignantly to the monstrosity in the corner.

“I swear I will break up with you if you say it,” he says, a lopsided grin coming to his mouth.

“Okay, fine,” your say with a huff, dropping your hand. A beat later, his words hit you. “Wait a minute… break up with me? Are we together now?” you ask, a wave of hope rising in you.

“It took me two years to catch you. I don’t plan on letting you go any time soon,” he says warmly, leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

“Okay, but that really is the saddest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen,” you laugh when he pulls back.

“Oh boy, you’ve insulted Clarence. You’re going to get it now, babe,” he says with a devilish smile, grabbing your hand to pull you against him. His eyes glance up to the mistletoe above your head before leaning down to kiss you again.

#vernon x reader #bwkwinterexchange #kfluffnet #kpoptrashtag #kpopwritingnet #vernon fluff #hansol fluff #vernon fanfic #vernon scenario #vernon imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine

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deadlybeautydbz · 6 years

Text

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town

Here it is! I’m sorry I didn’t have time to get this written before Christmas, but I hope you will all still enjoy it now! Please let me know what you think and as always, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, should you feel so inclined!

Merry (late) Christmas! Story under the cut!

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town

18 was about five minutes away from pulling every single one of her hairs from her head. Rudolph the bloody red nosed Reindeer had been playing on a near continuous loop for hours now, worming its way deeper and deeper into her brain, and the temptation to send a discreet little energy ball in the direction of the iPod dock was becoming harder and harder for the blonde to resist.

“Again, mama! Again!”

No sooner had the closing bars of music died away, was Marron demanding 18 start it back up again. Somebody at day care had had the audacity to teach her child a dance to go along with the carol, which included jumping, stomping, clapping and pretending to be both a reindeer and Santa Claus himself. All the things that four year olds just couldn’t get enough of.

It had been adorable the first dozen times, and cute the next ten. Now though, 18 was wracking her brain trying to find the most diplomatic way to put an end to this torture without breaking Marron’s heart on Christmas Eve.

Thankfully, a pair of headlights turning into the driveway, and beaming into the living room saved the day. It was a true Christmas miracle.

“Papa’s home!” Marron raced across the room, scrambled up the couch and peeked her head through the curtains, waiting not so patiently for the first glimpse of her daddy as he climbed out of the car. Similarly, 18 dove across the room as fast as lightening, and yanked the power cord of the docking station from the wall socket before Marron had a chance to notice.

Marron watched through the window as Krillin trudged across the lawn, his path illuminated by the harsh glow of the motion activated spotlight. Fresh snow was falling from the sky. It was deep, and clung half way up the small man’s legs.

“Papa!” Before Krillin had even managed to close the front door, Marron had launched herself at him. She latched onto his damp legs, clinging as tightly as her little arms would allow.

“Hey there, firefly!” Krillin pried Marron from his calf and lifted her up to give her a proper hug. She pressed her face into his cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck. “How was your day?” he asked, as he placed Marron down and began the process of unbuckling and unlacing his police boots. Wearing them any further into the house was strictly forbidden.

Marron took off. “It’s tonight, papa! It’s tonight! Santa is coming tonight!” She could barely contain her excitement as she leapt around the room, jumping along the couch, across the armchairs and back again in a totally joyous frenzy.

This was the first year that Marron had really been ‘into’ Christmas. It had been easy for her parents to avoid the commercialism of the holiday when they had been living on a tiny speck of sand in the middle of no-where, but now there was no escape. Living in a big city, Santa, and Christmas in general, was around every corner. And Marron, being four and surrounded by the magic of Christmas for the first time, was eating it right up. She was obsessed.

Outwardly, Krillin and 18 expressed disdain that their child was being exploited by such blatant consumerism, but on the inside, they were both almost as giddy as Marron was, seeing her get so thoroughly and completely swept up in the season. It was an absolute joy to see their child this happy, even if that happiness was expressed through listening to the same song on repeat five thousand times over.

“Stop climbing all over the furniture please, Marron,” 18 stepped in as the voice of reason. Krillin may have been able to be tough when it came to crooks and thieves, but when it came to his daughter, he was putty in her hands. Completely and utterly incapable of scolding her, or bringing her under control when she was over excited.

“Sorry, mama,” Marron slunk down the couch and looked sheepishly from one parent to the other. “Will Santa still come?”

18 nodded, unable to completely hide her smile. “I’d say so,” she said, “But only once you’re sound asleep, so why don’t you go and put your pyjamas on and brush your teeth. It is well and truly past your bed time, young lady.”

Dutifully, Marron trotted off towards her bedroom, and 18 was finally able to turn her attention to her husband. “How was your day?” She asked.

Krillin crossed the living room with a tired smile on his face. “Long,” he replied. Now close enough to touch, he pulled 18 into his arms and stretched up on his tiptoes for a kiss. 18 ducked her head, more than happy to oblige. “People are idiots at the best of times, but the holidays seems to being out the worst in everyone. I wrote thirty seven people up for traffic violations today. Don’t people even think about the consequences of car accidents….” He trailed off, lost in his own sleepy thoughts. “All good now though, I’m home with you for the next three days and that’s all that matters.” Krillin finished off his sentence by leaning back in for another kiss. Marron, having broken some kind of world record for the fastest time ever to get changed and brush your teeth, was back in the living room in the blink of an eye. Under normal circumstances, 18 would have sent her back to the bathroom to do the job properly, but tonight was a special night and one subpar tooth brushing effort wouldn’t have any dire consequences in the grand scheme of things. She decided to let this one slide.

“Alright,” Krillin clapped his hands together and grinned, “We need to leave out some treats for Santa!”

“Have you got your letter?” 18 asked, and laughed when Marron audibly gasped and disappeared into her bedroom. When she returned, she was holding a letter that she had very proudly written herself with only a little bit of help from 18.

“Show papa,” 18 prompted, she smirked at Krillin as he was handed the letter, and he looked back at her with a curious expression in return. It was just a letter to Santa written by a four year old child, what could be so funny about that?

“Dear Santa,” Krillin read aloud. “For Christmas I would like a baby sister-” he paused, felt his cheeks turn bright pink, and looked at 18, now fully understanding her amusement. Choosing to ignore her smugness for the moment at least, he continued to read. “I have been very good this year, and if I had a sister, we would have so much fun playing dolls together. May I also please have a new pony toy, and some colouring in books? Thank you very much, love Marron Chestnut.”

”Well,” Krillin cleared this throat to mask a nervous giggle, and knelt down on his heels to be eye level with his daughter. “Firefly, I don’t think Santa is going to be able to bring you a baby sister okay? That’s not exactly how that works.” He glanced over Marron’s head toward 18, who was enjoying being a spectator to this awkward conversation far too much for his liking. Krillin made a mental note to himself to get her back for that later. “How about we forget about that, but I’m sure Santa will have plenty of other wonderful gifts for you. You’ve been a very good girl this year, after all. Now,” wisely, Krillin decided to change the topic of conversation. “Santa has to visit all the boys and girls in the entire world tonight, I bet that he is going to need a snack when he gets to our house. How about we leave out some milk and cookies, and some carrots for his reindeer?”

“Yes!” Marron jumped up and fist pumped into the sky, causing both Krillin and 18 to shake their heads in wonder. Where the heck had she picked that up? Her larger than life personality truly never ceased to amaze.

---

It was almost two hours later, after many stories, glasses of water and trips to the bathroom that Marron was finally asleep. It was hard to be angry at her when she was so, so excited for Christmas, but to say that her parents were relieved when she was out for the count, would be an understatement.

“I thought Santa was going to be visiting our house at four in the morning at the rate she was going,” Krillin said, and took a long sip from his wine glass, finishing it off.

“You’re telling me,” 18 agreed, and refilled both of their glasses. No point in only drinking half of a bottle of wine, what a shameful waste that would be.

Neither Krillin nor 18 were particularly big drinkers, but Christmas Eve was somewhat of a special occasion in their house. It was the night, which felt like a lifetime ago, when Krillin had nervously bumbled his way through asking 18 if she would like to be his girlfriend, and she had even more awkwardly agreed. And exactly one year later, on the very next Christmas Eve, against the breath taking backdrop of a Kame Island sunset, Krillin had again fumbled his way through another nerve wracking question. One that involved a ring and getting down on one knee. This time though, there had been no hesitation at all on 18’s part, and she had said yes a thousand times over before the words were even fully spoken.

And so on each Christmas Eve since, 18 had cooked them a special romantic dinner, which they shared over candle light with a bottle of wine. It was a tradition that hadn’t changed in the almost 10 years that had passed since that first night, even though just about every other aspect of their lives was unrecognisable from the people they used to be back then.

Krillin pushed back his chair and stood up from the dinner table. He was a little wobbly, that wine had gone straight to his head and he laughed at himself. How unbecoming it was for an officer of the law to allow himself to get tipsy. How unprofessional indeed. “Dinner, as always, was delicious. Thanks babe,” he said. There were no arguments on his behalf when 18, who was still seated at the table, took hold of the scruff of his shirt and pulled him towards her for a kiss. Her lips were hungry, and it only took a moment before her tongue was seeking permission to enter his mouth, but Krillin pulled away.

“Did you hear that?” he asked eagerly.

“Hear what?” 18’s hearing was impeccable, she heard everything. She had not heard anything.

“I think it was Santa Claus.”

18 didn’t understand. “Santa Claus? Krillin, have you lost your-”

She was cut off mid-sentence by a finger pressed up against her lips. “Shhhh,” Krillin was listening intently. His face a picture of stone cold seriousness. “I’m going to go and investigate. Don’t. Move.”

There was a glint of mischievous in his eye that suggested to 18 that her husband was up to something, and so she was inclined to follow his instructions. She didn’t move when Krillin disappeared down the hallway, or when she heard the familiar squeak of the back door. She sat, patiently, for at leave five minutes, waiting, wondering what in the hell was going on. Exactly how strong was that wine? They’d had more or less the same amount and she felt fine. Had Krillin been taking drugs at work?

The sound of rustling on the front lawn was what finally made 18 reach the end of her patience. Nobody came onto her property unannounced, especially when her child was sleeping only meters away. She stood up, prepared to fight whoever it was who came through the door next.

“HoHoHo!” The front door handle jiggled and the door swung open, bringing with it a blast of icy winter air. “Meeeeerry Christmas!”

“What the….” 18 wasn’t even able to totally comprehend what was happening in front of her. She stood up from the fighting stance she hadn’t realised she had dropped into, and blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. “Krillin?”

“Krillin? No.” The man, who was clearly Krillin, said. “It is I, Santa Claus, on my way to deliver gifts to all the good boys and girls of the world.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Where on Earth he had managed to find a Santa costume that actually fit his stumpy little legs, 18 had no idea, but the fact remained that from somewhere, he had. Now, standing in the middle of their living room, was her husband, decked out in a jolly red Santa suit, complete with a full and luxurious fake white beard, and a big sack swung over his shoulder that looked about to burst open with goodies. So much for 18 being restrained with her gift buying in an attempt to stop Marron from becoming spoiled, because it appeared as though Krillin had gone out on his own accord and spent every cent they had between them on toys galore.

“What on Earth are you doing? You look ridiculous.” 18 said, but the amused expression on her face suggested that truly, she was loving this entire thing. “Where did you manage to find a Santa suit like that?”

“It’s amazing what you can buy on the internet, babe!” Krillin replied, dropping his Santa act. “C’mon, what if Mar were to wake up and see us just piling up her gifts under the tree. I don’t want to ruin the magic of Christmas for her. Plus, let’s not deny the obvious truth here, I look seriously adorable in this get-up, don’t I?”

“Mmmm…” 18 mumbled a non-committed response, but when Krillin lifted himself up off the ground, and 18 found herself staring into his warm, dark eyes, she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. She wrapped her arms around his stomach and squeezed him tight against her body. Krillin WAS goofy, and he WAS silly, and that was exactly what 18 loved most about him. He refused to let 18 fall into the nasty old habit of taking herself too seriously. And the fact that he was so committed to keeping the magic of Christmas alive for their daughter was undeniably attractive.

“I don’t know about this beard though,” she reached up and rubbed the scrunchy polyester between her fingers, “I think I could do without that.”

“You wanna know a secret?” Krillin whispered into 18’s ear.

“What’s that?”

“It’s really itchy.”

18 laughed, “Is that so?” she asked and tugged the fake beard down so it hung under Krillin’s chin. “That’s better. Now, about these gifts.” 18 turned her attention to the sack that had been forgotten about on the floor, “It looks a lot fuller than the two hundred zenni we agreed we’d spend on her.

“Oh shush,” Krillin said, dismissing 18’s worries. She was right, of course. He’d gone out and spent double that and then some. “If a man can’t spoil his girls on Christmas, then what’s the point of life?!”

“That’s a tad over dramatic, don’t you think?”

18 reached for the sack, but Krillin leapt in and snatched it from her grasp before she was able to sneak a peek at what was inside. “Uh-uh-uh.” Krillin tutted, and waggled his finger. “Only Santa Claus is allowed to look in here.” He hoisted the itchy beard back up over his face and asked, “Where should I leave these gifts? I have lots and lots of stops to make tonight, you know, and I don’t have any time to spare!”

This was all too much. 18 shook her head. “Over there,” she pointed to the glittering Christmas Tree in the corner of the room. How had this become her life? She’d married an absolute clown.

“Ah, yes,” Krillin sat down by the tree began to unload gift after gift after gift, stacking them nicely up under the tree. They were all beautifully wrapped with pretty paper, ribbons and bows, and all 18 could manage to think was that Marron was not even going to take one second in the morning to appreciate the effort that had gone into them. That paper would be off quicker than Son Goku’s instant transmission technique.

“Oh, what’s this?” Krillin pulled another gift from his sack, but this one was wrapped differently from all the others, in shiny gold paper that looked like it came from somewhere expensive. “This one has your name on it.”

“Krillin,” 18 frowned, and came to sit beside her husband. “We specifically agreed not to spend any money on each other this year.” She realised, of course, as the words were coming out of her mouth, how ridiculous that sounded. There was no way, absolutely no way, Krillin was not going to buy her a gift. He was pathological in his need to spoil her.

Quickly, 18 decided not to be mad at her husband. Any gift that he had gotten her, he had done so out of love, and not some need to one-up her in the gift giving stakes. And besides, it wasn’t like she too, didn’t have a gift tucked away ready to give to him in the morning.

“Here,” Krillin held out the package. It was a long, skinny rectangle shape and was heavier than 18 expected it to be. “Open it now.”

“But it’s not Christmas until tomorrow.”

“Just open it.”

“Alright,” 18’s fingers gently peeled back the tape from the gift wrap. She could tell that whatever was under here was special, and to just rip it open felt inappropriate. Underneath the paper, was a long box encased in red velvet, emblazoned with the insignia of 18’s favourite jeweller.

“Krillin…” the rest of 18’s sentence died away in her throat. Her eyes darted between Krillin – or Santa Claus – and the box. She knew this store, she walked by it every day on her way to drop Marron at day care. Never had she imagined a day would come where she would own one of the exquisite pieces that lived in the window though. She was almost too nervous to open the box.

“Here, let me,” Krillin took the box back from 18, and lifted the lid. The gasp that came from his wife’s lips was all the indication he needed to know he’d done a good job.

“Krillin…” 18 was genuinely lost for words. Inside the box was the most stunning necklace that she had ever laid her eyes on. It was a thick silver chocker style chain glittering with hundreds of diamonds and dotted with beautiful creamy pearls, and hanging from the centre of the chain, was the largest and most sparkly diamond that 18 had ever seen. “How….” She utter, as she reached out to touch the gift, “You shouldn’t have done this, Krillin. It’s too much. We can’t afford this.”

“Don’t be silly.” Krillin dismissed 18’s claims. “I always told you I was going to replace that crappy, tiny diamond in your engagement ring with something amazing one day.”

Looking down at the finger that housed said engagement ring and wedding band, 18 felt tears starting to well up in her eyes. “I really like my engagement ring,” she said, “it’s perfect. Small and cute, just like you.”

“I’m not cute!” Krillin retorted. He placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, “I’m strong and handsome!” He boasted, before dissolving into a fit of laughter at his own expense. He knew how ridiculous he looked right now in his Santa suit. “Do you like it?” he asked, once he had regained his composure. “The necklace? I can exchange it if you’d prefer something else.”

“Never,” 18 turned her back to her husband and scooped up her hair. Krillin understood what that meant and quickly snapped the necklace around her neck. Once it was on, 18 turned back to Krillin and smiled. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. This night is perfect.”

“I’m glad you like it. Although now that it’s on your neck, it looks kind of plain in comparison.” Krillin said, and realised in that moment just how desperately he wanted to press his lips against that perfectly soft, supple neck.

Which reminded him.

Diving back into his sack, Krillin found one last gift hiding in the bottom corner. Although some might say it was more of a gift to himself than anything else. He pulled out a small cluster of leaves that had been tied together with a piece of red ribbon and grinned victoriously.

“Is that what I think it is?” 18 asked, suspiciously

“What do you think it is?”

“Mistletoe”

“Then yes, it’s exactly what you think it is.”

Krillin held up the slightly squashed and honestly, sad looking bundle of leaves above his head, and leaned in towards 18 for his kiss. But to his surprise, she planted her hands on his chest and pushed him away.

“Santa Claus, what would my husband think if he were to walk through that front door right now and see me kissing you?” 18 played. She twirled a loose strand of hair idly around her finger and bit down on her lower lip, going into full on flirt mode.

“I don’t think he’d mind.”

“Oh I think he would. He’s very protective of me, you know.”

“Ok, look,” Krillin was so turned on now, his hands needed to be on his wife’s body. With reckless abandon, he ripped the stupid scratchy Santa beard from his face, and along with the matching red hat, tossed it clear to the other side of the room, where it fell behind the couch to be forever forgotten. “Better?”

“Much better.” 18 took the mistletoe from Krillin’s hands and dropped it to the floor beside them. She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his with a fevered passion. Krillin responded in turn, slipping his hands up underneath 18’s shirt and unclipping her bra with well-practised precision. This was not going to be about romance, this was plain and simple, an act of passion.

“Wait, wait!” 18 halted. Already her chest was heaving as she panted for air. That had been an intense ten seconds “Not here. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

As hot as Krillin found the idea of taking 18 right here, he in his Santa suit, her in nothing but that necklace, on the living room floor, and find it hot he did, he knew it was a bad idea. 18 wasn’t exactly known for being quiet during their bedroom escapades and the last thing Krillin wanted was for Marron to wake and be left with a lifelong mental image of Santa Claus defiling her mama. Their bedroom door had not one, but two locks on it for that very reason.

“Are you coming?” 18 asked, and Krillin blinked. 18 was already half way down the hall.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied and scrambled quickly to his feet. In a moment of clarity he remembered the snacks and hastily shoved a few cookies into his mouth and skulled half a glass of milk. He didn’t even like milk.

“Good,” 18 called from the bedroom. “And bring that mistletoe with you.”

Maybe Marron would be getting that baby sister for Christmas after all.

---

The End

---

Hope you liked it! Lemme Know! I’m sorry I haven’t been around much in the second half of the year, things got crazy for me and I’ve started a new job, but I’m going to try so hard in the new year to get back into some kind of routine that allows me writing time, because I really miss it and I miss all of you.

Love love love to you all! Don’t forget you can submit prompts to me/chat with me whenever! I’m friendly, I promise!

#krillin #Android 18 #kuririn #juuhachigou #K18 #dragonball z #dragonball super #dbz #dbs #fanfiction #fanfic #dbz fanfic #otp #otp fanfic #writing #prompts #writing prompts #deadlybeautyfanfiction

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rainbowfishqueen · 6 years

Text

Picture a Christmas

MLSecretSanta for Trashhnoir

Will be reposted to Ao3 under rainstormdancer

Marinette was pretty sure that she hadn’t actually had a conversation with Chat Noir in nearly three weeks. Sure, there had been akumas, but neither of them had any time to talk afterwards. The countdown timers on their miraculous items always cut off any conversations before they could really start. He also hadn’t been stopping by her balcony to visit like he used to.

To be fair, it was Christmas order season at the Dupain-Cheng Patisserie. Cookies, yule logs, and full orders of catering for Christmas parties came in an endless stream. So much so that her parents had hired on extra help for the month.

“Tikki, I haven’t even started Chat Noir’s present yet!” Marinette moaned as she spun around in her computer chair.

“And you never even decided on one for Adrien.” Tikki chirped.

“So not helping,” Marinette poked at her kwami.

She pulled open the drawer of her vanity and grabbed out a small day planner. “Ladybug needs to make an appearance at the Mayor’s Holiday Party, Chat mentioned he couldn’t make it to that one. So I can’t work on his present Friday night. Saturday, Ladybug has the day off, but Maman and Papa are catering the Holiday party at the Eiffel Tower Hotel and I can’t get out of croissant duty.” Marinette flopped backward.

“Don’t forget about Alya’s holiday interview” Tikki glanced over Marinette’s shoulder, “that should be Sunday afternoon so she can get it uploaded before the end of Christmas Eve.” She poked at the page where there was the only blank spot.

“And the Agreste Christmas Ball will be that night!” Marinette flailed.Marinette’s forehead thunked onto her desk. “I just don’t have the energy for this,” she rolled her head to the side, a bright red circle already appearing under her bangs. “Does being Ladybug come with the power to control time?”

Tikki looked concerned at the expression on Marinette’s face.

“If you can’t handle making Chat Noir’s present you could always buy him something instead?” Tikki tried half-heartedly.

“Chat is my partner and one of my best friends. He deserves better than a last minute department store gift.” Marinette’s shoulders were slumped so low her wrists nearly brushed the floor.

“That’s right, Chat Noir is one of your best friends. He knows how busy you both get this time of year. He will certainly forgive you if you give him a New Year’s present instead of a Christmas present.” Tikki patted Marinette’s cheek and brushed her bangs away from her eyes.

“Everyone sees you working so hard. You’re amazing, Marinette. It’s easy to get burnt out during the holidays. Just try to concentrate on that blank page in your planner for the day after Christmas.”

Marinette’s cheek pulled into a little smile. “Thanks, Tikki. I hope Chat Noir is doing okay. I haven’t been the best friend or the best partner over the last month.”

MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB

“Here’s your marzipan order, Mrs. Edelwiess. It’s always good to see you.” Marinette smiled as she left the small shop. “Tikki, that’s my last delivery and I actually finished early!” Marinette squealed.

“But do you have time to do anything about Chat’s present?” Tikki questioned from the purse at Marinette’s side.

“I think I do.” Marinette nodded firmly, “there’s a secondhand store in this corner of town. I might be able to find something that Chat would like there. And hopefully it won’t be something he has already seen in stores.”

“That’s a great idea, Marinette.” Tikki smiled, secretly relieved that she might not have to stay up all night with a stressed, knitting Marinette. AGAIN.

The secondhand store was warm and smelled like dust and old books. There was a rack of clothes that looked more like costumes than everyday-wear and there were trinkets and display cases shoved into all corners.

The light came into the window dimly, the sun set early these days. The harsh white lights of the display cases glinted off of tarnished brass and shiny leather pieces. Marinette’s eyes were blown wide at the amount of things to look at. She shoved her fists into her coat pockets and set her jaw. It was time to look seriously, she didn’t have long before she was expected to be back at the bakery. “Can I help you find anything?” A pair of thick round glasses blinked at her from a smiling shop-lady. She grinned, the colorful ribbon scarves bouncing in her curly hair. “You have that new customer look. My organization doesn’t make sense to hardly anyone. Which direction can I point you to?”

Marinette exhaled, “Oh, I need a gift for a friend.”

The lady just blinked, “Could you perhaps be a bit more specific?”

“Oh, I just—” Marinette waved her hands nervously, “I just, I mean, he’s just a friend. Not that kind of friend, he just—I just...” She trailed off, tittering nervously.

The lady brightened and pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Ah! A boy who makes you nervous. Your age then? I can help with that.” She turned suddenly and pushed her way through a bead curtain, waving for Marinette to follow.

“He doesn’t make me—well not when I’m, I mean—yes?” Marinette shoved her hands back in her pockets and ducked her head through the curtain. She didn’t really have a short-and-sweet way of explaining what Chat Noir could mean to her. She wasn’t even sure she was really sure of it herself. Her cheeks felt like they were too warm.

“Ah, come this way, the display is here.” The woman pointed confidently, bracelets jangling to get her attention. “Here is the display of treasures that are considered modernly vintage by young people.”

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed, “That’s very specific.”

“They’re in high demand, what can I say?” The woman’s eyes crinkled shut behind her glasses.

Marinette glanced at the display. She recognized the green apple of the Beatle’s Let it Be album that Alya had raved about in her mother’s collection. There were some vintage toys that she recognized from primary school and a framed, signed photo of Audrey Hepburn with a very large pricetag. She crouched down to see the bottom shelf and that’s when she saw it.

“Oh! The camera, please! Can I see the polaroid?” Marinette’s legs straightened and she shot to her feet.

The woman slid the back of the cabinet open and fished out the camera. “Yes, of course. These were very popular, instant pictures developed like magic. But I must tell you, I have no film. This is why it has not sold yet.” She shook her head sadly. “It needs a good home. If you want it I will sell it to you for half price.”

“I’ll take it.” Marinette pulled her wallet out quickly and waved a couple of bills, “Papa has the film, but his camera broke a long time ago.”

The woman smiled at the camera lovingly, “A good home then, finally. This boy of yours will take care of it?”

“Definitely,” Marinette smiled brightly.

MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB

The rest of the weekend flew by in a whirl of peppermint frosting and the smell of almond cookies. Marinette swore she never wanted to see another sugar cookie for at least the next ten or so months. When her papa’s back was turned, her mother nodded her agreement with a tired smile and a conspiratory wink. And for the record, at the Agreste's party, that Christmas-tree shaped stack of croissants fell over of their own accord. Marinette had nothing to do with it. Before she was rightly sure of where the time had gone, Christmas Eve was almost over and Marinette was nearly napping on a rooftop as Ladybug, waiting for Chat Noir to show his face.

“What a beautiful evening it is, m’lady.” Chat’s heavy boots thunked behind her before he had even finished speaking. “Even more so now that I get to spend it with you.” He swept a bow and glanced up at her cheekily.

She smiled and stifled a yawn, “Get over here, kitty. I could use a space heater.” Before she could blink, she looked down to see Chat’s green eyes staring up at her from where his head was propped up in her lap.

“Better, bugaboo?”

She flicked his nose, “I hope you know you’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously handsome,” he waggled his eyebrows.

“Quick, I need a distraction before his head gets too big.” She commented dryly. Chat’s eyes slammed shut as he puckered his lips and leaned in.

She pressed the gift-wrapped box to his lips. At his bewildered expression, she threw her head back and laughed. “Merry Christmas, Chat.”

His face lit up and he clasped his hands under his chin, “For me? My lady, really?” His eyes sparkled, almost literally from the Eiffel Tower lit up behind her.

“Of course, really.” She scoffed and shoved the present towards his chest, “don’t think I would ignore my favorite alley cat on Christmas. Just read the card first, okay?”

“Dear Chat Noir, for the cat that has everything. Our memories with you are what we cherish most about this year. Use this to keep those memories for the future. From, Ladybug and Marinette.” Chat glanced up in surprise. “From both of you? I didn’t know you were that close with her.”

“We’re closer than you think we are,” Marinette barely kept herself from laughing. Chat worked his claw under the paper and slowly opened the top. “Where in the world did you find one of these?!” He pulled the camera out gently, holding it out with awe etched across his features.

“A Lady never tells,” she smiled, “let me show you how to load it.” After a few moments of pointing and explaining, Ladybug finally agreed to pose.

“Just one picture of me, then we have to take a selfie together, okay?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“As you wish, my lady.” Chat smiled, holding the camera up to his eye, “put your left arm down, yes like that. Now set your right hand on your knee. Other knee.” Ladybug tilted her head, “Are you a photographer? You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Stop! Keep your head right there.” Chat snapped the picture and it spat out the front like the camera was sticking out its tongue. “I sort of know what I’m doing, I’ve never owned a camera though, just the one on my phone.” Chat shrugged his shoulders.

“You sounded like a professional.” Ladybug stood up and took the camera gently.

“Time for our selfie while the first one develops.” She grinned and snapped the picture without any warning.

“What? I wasn’t ready, do it again!” Chat protested, waving the photo and trying to get a good look at it in the light of the nearby street light.

“Nope! You already got two pictures of me, that’s enough for one night.” Ladybug grinned and moved backwards, yo-yo spinning at her side.

“Leaving so soon, bug?” Chat pouted.

“Of course! It’s Christmas Eve. If I patrol tonight that means that I don’t have to do it tomorrow.” She teased.

“I was going to take tomorrow anyway, my lady. But can I ask you something before you go?”

“Sure, what’s up?” Ladybug’s yo-yo spun with a little less force.

“Since you’re so close with Marinette, what do you think I should get her for Christmas? I have something picked out for you, sorry I hadn’t wrapped it yet, but I need ideas for her.” Chat set the camera back in the box and tucked it under his arm.

Ladybug ducked her head sideways “…something Adrien…” she mumbled.

“What--?” Chat started to say.

“I said come up with something yourself,” Ladybug declared, “I’m sure she’ll love it more if it’s your own idea. Goodnight, Chat. And Merry Christmas!” Her yo-yo flew and she was gone before he could respond.

“Something…Adrien?” Chat took off toward his own house.

MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB-MLB And in the early hours of the morning, after she had finished a long and very cold patrol; if Marinette came home to a polaroid snapshot on her pillow of Adrien blowing a kiss with messy hair and flushed cheeks, well…she certainly wasn’t complaining.

Best. Christmas present. EVER.

#mlsecretsanta #trashhnoir #marichat #ladynoir #adrinette #ladrien #miraculous ladybug #gift fic

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