#just watched the christmas special and now all these remind me of is a floating army of daleks oops

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Bad Batch': The Outpost

As per many people's requests, I've collected a series of texts and Facebook messages from Doug when he watched certain episodes of everyone's favorite Copy Paste Boi show.

Some he was quite pithy on ('Ryan-from-Accounting goes fast but not fast enough to get away from the Bitch Wife Laura'), and others...well, he got excitable, to put it mildly.

Here's one of the more deranged ones, Season 2, Episode 12, 'The Outpost'. Or as Doug calls it: "The Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special."

CW for Language like you wouldn't believe. Doug says "you'll need a permission slip from your momma to read this, I guess."

-----

Daddy Warcrimes is waiting by the Empire's equivalent of a windowless van, because comfort is just not his thing and he really wants the experience of smuggling cocaine across the border one of these days.

Some bitch who looks like she works at a bank is telling these clones that their extended warranty is up. I wanna bring her a bag of pennies and make her count it before I deposit it because I'm sick like that.

So here comes in SOME BLOND JACKASS. Mother of Hell do I hate this guy. Can I just tell you how much I hate him? I hate him like I hate the Crimson Tide, like I hate February, like I hate my mother-in-law. Hate hate hate. 

So Daddy Warcrimes, SOME BLOND JACKASS, and some homies get into Floating Probable Cause to lay waste to an unsuspecting Third World country or whatever.

Well, I was wrong! Looks like Elsa and her frozen fingers took over this dump. Disney owns both, so why not. The cold never bothered them anyway. Nope, they’re at somebody’s nasty old storage shed. Why does this remind me of visiting my sister in Wyoming?

Oh, who is this no-frills, salt-of-the-earth, son-of-a-bitch? Is that tanned Kurt Russell? No? It’s Sassy Park Ranger! I like him already. If he was my boss I’d actually show up to work on time and sober, or late and hung over, either way, it’d be a good time with the man. He just seems cool and chill and a nice dude. I bet he’s got homemade beef jerky in his locker and his beard always smells like cigar smoke. 

OH SHUT UP STUPID BLOND JACKASS, Jesus Christ I’ve never wanted to hit someone with a folding chair so hard in my life. CALL HIM COMMANDER.

Aw, Sassy Park Ranger’s being nice to Daddy Warcrimes, maybe Daddy Warcrimes will share the Columbian nose candy in the back of the van with Sassy Park Ranger, and Sassy Park Ranger won’t ask about the sobbing family Daddy Warcrimes is probably holding for ransom in the back. It’s all about understanding each other. 

This is truly the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas special, snow and friendship and stuff. I hope this doesn’t end up with Daddy Warcrimes 86’ing Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer from the sky, that would traumatize the children. But this is the same studio that produced Bambi so who knows. Didn't he try killing a kid the first episode?

Oh man, Sassy Park Ranger’s lost a lot of his men, that’s real sad. Only two left, Jesus. SHUT UP BLOND JACKASS SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

(I won’t repeat it, but the amount of times that SHUT UP was texted was….something else- Dr. MM)

Sassy Park Ranger’s taking Daddy Warcrimes on a hike around the place in the middle of a blizzard, probably going to say hi to the yeti hooker they all frequent and show him how to write his name in the snow with pee. He’s such a good guy. If they go sledding I’d be so happy.

Oh, shit! Daddy Warcrimes remembers that he has a job and proceeds to cop some poor bastard in the leg so he can follow the trail of blood in the snow. What in the Fargo am I watching here, does Steve Buschemi show up at one point now. No sledding in this one, I guess.

Well there goes Sassy Park Ranger and Daddy Warcrimes on a heartwarming romp following a crippled burglar in the snow as he bleeds to death. Kevin McCallister would be so proud. Well, now, they found a dead body already. You know, at this point, if Daddy Warcrimes capped Santa in the head this show wouldn’t be less wholesome. 

Aw shit Daddy Warcrimes stepped on a landmine, but Sassy Park Ranger watched his training videos that HR made them sit through and disarms it. They’re having a nice convo, I really, really like Sassy Park Ranger. If he dies I’ll be so freaking mad. 

(I said nothing, FYI - Dr. MM)

Aw shit, they found the bunker of crazy white people with guns in the snow. It’s confirmed: the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special takes place in Wyoming. Are Daddy Warcrimes and Sassy Park Ranger facing off my brother-in-law and his branch of the VFW near Laramie? Those guys need hobbies besides doomsday prepping and getting drunk in the snow. It ain’t right. 

“After all we sacrificed”…man. I feel right here. Is this the child friendly version of Enemy at the Gate? Shit. Please these two bastards need to survive. I need a beer and I wanna hug my wife.  

Dr. Meat Muffin, please don't tell me you're letting your babies watch this show. They need that dog from Australia who has fun with her daddy, not this.

Oh shit, avalanche! 

Oh no, Sassy Park Ranger. Oh no, oh no. Oh, Daddy Warcrimes.

Thank Christ they made it! They’re gonna save him! They’re gonna save him.

Wait. What. 

WHAT THE FUCK, BLOND ASSHOLE. 

I HATE THIS JACKASS SO GODDAMNED MUCH, SOLDIER OF THE EMPIRE, I WANNER SHOVE MY SOLDIER UP YOUR EMPIRE YOU STUPID DICK. 

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Yay! Daddy Warcrimes finally took out his gun and 86’d that FUCK. CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY!! YAAAAAAY!!!!!

Man...I hope this ends okay for Daddy Warcrimes. I hope his brothers aren't just dicking around somewhere warm while he and the other bros are out dying.

Guess that'll be next episode?"

....Doug snapped SO HARD watching 'Pabu'. Brace yourselves.

#tbb #cloneforce99 #the bad batch #tcw #crosshair tbb #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #crosshair and mayday #mayday clone trooper #tbb mayday #commander mayday #doug talks star wars #doug the neighbor #redneck doug #fuck the empire #fuck lt nolan

[works-of-magic]

I'm a nerd who likes telling stories about my team and our adventures, so here's another filled-in questions list! This one comes from here:

https://www.tumblr.com/flowerliker/707205355342626816/here-are-some-pok%C3%A9blr-asks

1. if you battle, talk about a battle that was really important to you! Well, I don't battle much, but let's see... Should I talk about the time I battled Fantina? That was so much fun! I've always admired Fantina. Being both a Master Coordinator AND a Gym Leader makes her rather rare and accomplished! And she's a GHOST TRAINER too! I've admired her for a long time.

So when the friend I was traveling with wanted to battle her, I decided, heck, why not? I don't care a whit about the leagues but I knew how to battle. I didn't really have the contest credentials to face her in a Master Rank contest back then (or now, even). My team did really well and we wound up winning! It's literally the one and only singular sole badge I own. Missie had so much fun, and Mistress learned a lot!

2. if you participate in contests, talk about a contest that was really important to you! Oh gosh, contests were always for Self Expression and essentially Just For Fun for us. All except for one. I've told this story before, but by Arc, I'm going to tell it again!

My first Misdreavus, Missie, was abandoned by her first trainer. And one day, who should my little ghost recognize when we're registering for a contest but that very same trainer? So you can imagine my fury and Mistress's scorn when we see our friend drooping and so sad she could barely float. Mistress stepped up to those appeals with style and flair I'd never seen from her before, and we sailed through the first rounds. We wound up facing Missie's old trainer in the final round. And we trounced her SOUNDLY, she didn't stand a chance! It was only Great Rank, barely not novice level, but that ribbon is my most treasured one of all.

3. what's one pokémon you would really like to have as a partner? I can't imagine any partner being a better fit for me than Mistress.

4. how did you meet your very first pokémon? So my family had an assortment of household "pets" when I was a kid, but the first one that was truly MINE was a little Vulpix I got for Christmas! He was wrapped in a big box with a loosely-fit lid, and when I took it off, he was right there, looking up at me with those big dark eyes. He jumped right out and, it was probably hilarious to watch from the sidelines, I tried to catch him but missed and nearly fell into the box, almost knocked the Christmas tree over, and when I got myself upright again, he was sitting as calm as could be, watching with what I can only think was amusement.

5. what's your favorite kind of pokéball? Dusk balls, probably! I also use luxury balls though, anything I can do to make my traveling company more comfortable, I will.

6. what kind of tasks do your pokémon do to help you in the day-to-day? Mistress does most of them. I have a massive whopping case of ADHD and some dysthymia, and Mistress has a much better memory and attention span. She reminds me of things and gets my attention when my mind wanders, and she has a particular chant that helps me focus when I'm really struggling. Ninetales helps me wrangle situations when tensions run high in the breeding center, and Excalibur (my Pidgeot) is always good for cuddles and helping everyone calm down. Murky likes to "help" picking berries from the garden, but whenever he does, half of them ~mysteriously~ disappear, so he's not allowed near the berry stores anymore.

7. what's your favorite move one of your pokémon knows? I really like Shadow Ball! Sure, it's not really anything special or rare, but so many of my battle stars know it, it comes naturally to a lot of the ghosts I raise, and it just looks so COOL! It makes amazing contest material when you combine it with moves that produce light, gives it a very dramatic contrast.

8. what's one pokémon you like that people wouldn't expect? Maybe Glaceon? I get along pretty well with Ice types!

9. do you have a favorite legendary pokémon? Giratina's really fascinating to me, and Darkrai are one of those species that get a really bad reputation but I'm convinced it's not deserved. I'd love to interact with either of them someday.

10. what's one city, town, or landmark you want to visit someday? Hmmm... I hear there's a haunted mansion in Unova!

11. do you battle, coordinate, study, or something else? why did you decide to do that? have you ever tried to do one of the other things? Breeding mostly, nowadays, but I spend a solid decade in the contest world! I always had a deep love of ghost types, but funnily enough it wasn't until I trained two of them and just fell so far down the ghost-Pokemon rabbit hole that I knew I wanted to dedicate my life to them. I just didn't know how for the longest time. Contests were great when I was younger, they were a great creative outlet and gave us something to work for, and practicing our appeals was a fantastic bonding exercise.

But when Mistress and Trick hatched their first baby, I was just so hopelessly in love with the little guy! Watching the parents with him, training him, building the foundation from scratch... There was something so different about raising a Pokemon you've known since birth. (And gosh, baby Misdreavus are CUTE!) He wound up being traded to one of my brother's friends, but there was a new kind of itch in my life.

I did a lot more traveling and some more training and coordinating for awhile, and I did attend a couple of foundational classes to become either a professor or a Pokecenter nurse, but I got to a certain age where I just wanted to live a quieter life surrounded by the ghosts I love so much. I didn't want to travel and I couldn't handle the stress of constantly being around injured Pokemon. Hurts my heart, you know? So yeah, I wound up settling down, and over time I accrued more Misdreavus and the ghost fanatics I'd networked with had given me a good idea of how to breed and raise these guys. So I tried my hand at it, and wound up loving it.

12. where is your hometown? where do you live now? I was born in Celestic Town, now living off the beaten path in Eterna Forest! (What can I say, I like it here in Sinnoh.)

13. what do you like the most about your hometown? There's a lot of old wisdom in Celestic Town. (Some of that wisdom is pure superstition, but the connection between people and Pokemon is very strong there, and appreciation for it too.)

14. what do you like the most about where you live now? It's dark and quiet and not crowded at all, which is perfect for a nyctophiliac introvert like myself! And also the ghosts seem to have this routine where they wander off for awhile and won't tell me what they did there. Mistress calls it "ghost business", but they never do it anywhere else...

15. what kinds of friends have you made on this website? Honestly? I don't think I'm on here often enough to have made many new friends. I like to think some of the people I've met will become friends, though!

16. what habit does one of your pokémon have that's unusual for its species? People are quite surprised to find that Mistress's favorite chant is a calming lullaby chant! (Not that benevolent chants are "unusual" for Mismagius, necessarily-- well not for ALL individuals, anyways-- but she puts a lot of practice into the helpful chants.)

17. have you ever raised a pokémon egg? Oh yeah! A great many! Again: Breeder!

18. do you have any pokémon that were traded to you? Unless you count Missie being abandoned and me finding her, not really. The Rotom that lurks around the place was a gift though.

19. what thing did/does your pokémon have the hardest time learning? Oof, so Mistress probably evolved way too early. That's my theory, anyways. The ghost expert I was mentored by for a couple years told us she also had some psychological blockages feeding into it. But for like a YEAR after I started travelling with her, Mistress couldn't learn any ghost type moves. She's a Mismagius. That's a pure ghost type. And even when she was old enough to learn a rather basic, foundational move (Astonish), she just couldn't get it to work.

20. what kind of food do your pokémon like? That depends on the Pokemon! Mistress likes light and refreshing things like green tea and bitter poffins. She doesn't eat much and usually leans more phobovorous. Murky loves all kinds of food, but especially likes anything dry. Nearly all of them like my poffins, though! (Except Thorn, for some reason. She really likes pokebeans! I wish I could garden them, but their native Alola is super sunny and warm and relatively humid, which is like the polar opposite of Eterna Forest. We can't grow them here.)

21. what's one thing you and your partner pokémon have in common? One thing? Just one? Both Mistress and I stand up for the underdog.

22. what's one thing that couldn't be more different between you and your partner pokémon? Ooh, that's a tough one... Probably that I'm easily distracted. I have moments where I can pay attention, but Mistress's attention is always very steady, and she's a lot more alert than me. (To the point where she used to creep my best friend out!)

23. did you and your partner pokémon always get along? "Did", like back when we first met? That's a big fat "no". She didn't trust me at all, which frustrated me greatly (mostly because I couldn't understand why, but believe me, she had her reasons). She wouldn't listen to me either, she wouldn't obey me if I called her for a battle, she wouldn't respond when I asked her questions unless it was a sharp snap or that aloof shrug she does. And honestly, I think she was afraid and trying to struggle her way through a lot of things back then. And I said a few things that might have come across as insensitive, which didn't help her trust me. I often wonder if we ever would have met if it wasn't for Missie bringing us together.

24. what's the rarest pokémon you've met? Hmmm... Which is more rare, a shiny Murkrow or a glimpse of Mesprit?

25. do you have a big team or just a small number of pokémon? how did you decide which was better for you? I have a pretty big team, and a DEFINITELY-big population at the breeding center! It kind of came naturally, and over time. I used to think one Pokemon was all I'd ever need when Ninetales was my only friend, but as I traveled and made friends with more Pokemon, I kind of just kept accumulating them. It only feels like too much when nobody's getting along.

26. tell us about an interesting trainer you've met, either while you've traveled or who came through where you stay! My best friend is a really interesting trainer! He's an electric type specialist, but he keeps a pretty wide variety in his team. I mentioned a ghost expert that mentored me for a couple years, that was actually his grandma. His whole family situation is... Whew. But we're both oddballs and he has this hilarious sense of humor, keeps it interesting when we're traveling together, and also the kind of person I can call in the middle of the night when something scares me and he'll sit with me on the phone for hours reading trivia and telling jokes until I calm down. He's awesome.

27. if you travel, what was your favorite place to travel through? I'm living there, baby! Eterna Forest was my favorite place to travel for years before I lived here. In fact, that's part of WHY we live here now.

28. if you travel, what was your least favorite place to travel through? Oh, that's hard... Anywhere people look at my Pokemon and make faces, or grab onto their good luck charms like just seeing a Mismagius is going to curse them. Or possibly Castelia City, Black City-- I get so hopelessly lost in big urban places like that.

29. what is your pokémon's favorite snack? It really depends on the Pokemon! Most of them really like my poffins! I've also invented a few strudel-like recipes, Ninetales especially likes those, and both Mistress and Trick prefer using fear as food.

30. what is something you could not do without your pokémon? Finish projects! Playing music and singing together makes cleaning the breeding center a thousand times easier. I probably couldn't have finished my notes for the presentations I give at local conventions and pokecenters without Mistress. Relaxing with Excalibur is especially easy too, he's so laid-back and he loves grooming us all.

31. where is your pokémon's favorite place to go? Probably on our annual trip to Lavender Town!

32. where is your favorite place to go? Also Lavender Town! Or Eterna Forest again. I really like this forest, okay.

33. what kind of treats do you give your pokémon? Any kind I can get my hands on! We're adventurous foodies around here. Most often they're berries or poffins, but I do get creative and bake treats, and when we travel I always bring home treats for those who are interested to try some. Starpoint (one of my younger Misdreavus) has no interest in traveling with us, but she tries food from every region we visit! She loves Pokepuffs especially, but making pastries is HARD and frankly I'm too intimidated by all the steps to try making them myself.

34. how do you and your pokémon celebrate special events, holidays, victories, and/or anniversaries? We're a bit unusual with our holidays. The only one I really observe is Samhain, and that's when we take our trip to Lavender Town every year. Usually I bring Missie, Mistress, Murky, and Ninetales along, maybe a baby if there's one that needs a careful hand that I don't trust with whoever's watching the center while I'm away.

Not even Mistress can help me remember anniversaries, though. ;;; As for special events and victories, we usually celebrate with comfort food and relaxation, and maybe some games or music!

35. how do you like to spend time with your pokémon? However makes them happy! Mistress and I like meditating, practicing spellwork, or she'll cast these sort of bizarre hallucinations when she's bored and it always entertains me. (She has my permission to do that, don't worry.) Missie and I enjoy dancing or cuddling as I read. With Trick I do things like watch horror movies or play games where he'll try his best to startle me. He tried to startle me while I was filling these out, actually! Ninetales is usually content to follow me around and keep watch for anything going amiss. Starpoint likes playing or cheering others on as they play or mock-fight or dance. It really does depend on the individuals!

36. name something about your partner pokémon that makes you really proud of them! Mistress has come SO FAR, dear gods! When I first met her, she was full of doubt and distrust, in herself as well as anyone else, and she was wandering through life without a clue where she was going. I know I helped her find herself and find trust in humans again, but she did a lot of the work herself, too. She was the one that decided to trust me. I couldn't ask for a better partner.

37. how do you like to spend time with your pokémon? (Repeat of 35?)

38. name something that your pokémon is really good at! Mistress is so intelligent, she picked up on human speech! (She doesn't use it much, though. Says it makes her throat itch.) Murky is an astute strategist. Ninetales is really good at reassuring me. Excalibur is an excellent flyer. Missie is really elegant when she's dancing! Sheera is perhaps my strongest battler, MAYBE second only to Berry, my Mimikyu.

39. what's a cool skill or hobby you have that doesn't actually have much to do with your pokémon? I'm a hobbyist writer! As far as sharing it, I mostly use it to write my educational speeches for dispelling myths about ghost-types and things like that, but I do dabble a little in poetry and fantasy, too.

40. what kind of pokémon (can be but doesn't have to be type!) are your favorite? why do you like them so much? Misdreavus and Mismagius, far and away! Misdreavus are just so dang CUTE, okay. And Mismagius are awesome. I think it's the sounds Misdreavus make that really seal the deal. Mismagius is a creature of magic and misunderstandings, much like myself. I love Mismagius sounds too! I love both of their looks, actually! Misdreavus with their big cute bright eyes and Mismagius with their flowing elegance and witchy looks. And they both use EMOTION as NUTRITION! I just find that so fascinating and awe-inspiring! Gods, I could go on forever about why I love them so much, but every moment I've spent with them just convinces me I love them more. (And I've raised 48 Misdreavus and 4 Mismagius by now. That's a lot of love.)

#about us #answers list

[isbergillustration]

Ascent

#acrylic paint #ghosts #spooky #artists on tumblr #Illustration #my art #just watched the christmas special and now all these remind me of is a floating army of daleks oops #as per use org for sale

[its-deputy-caleb]

hellllooooo amigo

so I was wondering if you could write a lil fic about Micah mentioning his birthday is soon but not expecting anyone to care about it but then the reader surprises him with a present and Micah’s like :O

I’ve had this idea stuck in my head for the past week lmao but if it ain’t your thing or if you’ve done something similar before then don’t worry about it my g :)

howdyy amigo <33 so i had all these good ideas and then i was writing and the creative block hit HARD so i high key hate this and its a mess but i hope i pulled through in the end and i kinda went a little off topic but oops enjoy anyway :0

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

You never really gave a thought to Micah’s birthday. Not because you didn’t want to celebrate it but simply because he never mentioned it to you. It wasn’t really a tradition to celebrate a gang members birthday although the group would never pass up a chance for drinking. Mostly those celebrations were reserved for big scores.

For some of the special members of the gang however, there were celebrations. On Dutch’s the whole gang would practically feast and party for the entire week and for Miss Grimshaw Javier would perform while Sean gave a right old toast. Dutch even insisted on a party for Molly and you laughed at Karen and Mary Beth who whined the entire night about “Miss fancy pants needing her own royal party”.

Of course even for the other members you’d notice when it was their birthday. You’d seen when close friends of Arthur leave gifts beside your own at his tent and for Jack’s birthday John and Abigail tolerated each other enough to spoil the boy with gifts surrounded by family.

That’s why you thought it was rather odd when Micah, your sweetheart never told you about his birthday. You thought he may have damn well forgot it when you overheard him one night with Bill.

He was mumbling into a bottle of whiskey, half on his way to passing out when he mentioned he was getting too old with another birthday coming up in a few days. Of course the bastard wouldn’t tell you, for all his boasting he’d never been one for parties or celebrating.

So with that in mind you spent the rest of the night formulating a plan to at least celebrate his birthday between the two of you.

-

You’d learnt from Bill the next morning, who wasn’t nearly half as drunk (or hungover) as Micah that his birthday was in exactly three days.

So that left you with three days to formulate just how you’d surprise the man you’d come to love so dearly for his birthday.

Coming up with a celebration was relatively easy— he wasn’t one for crowds, he enjoyed your company and only yours alone and he loved a good whiskey so naturally you’d take him away from the gang’s camp and head down to the Dakota river for the night.

It was finding a good gift that had you tearing your hair out. It was hard trying to find something that would be personal enough for Micah to appreciate when the man in question held few personal belongings, and naturally a new revolver was completely out of the question.

-

You decided to give up on your mission to find him a gift after nearly chewing Swanson’s ear off for singing while you were trying to think and rethink your gift.

So with a new formed headache you headed into valentine to purchase a nice and rather expensive whiskey for tomorrow night.

On your way out of the general store you noticed a beautiful Dutch Warmblood horse trot into the stable behind his owner. The horse had a large white spot over his leg and it couldn’t’ help but remind you of Baylock.

Bingo.

Smiling to yourself you put the whiskey in your saddle bag and walked into the stables to buy Micah his birthday gift, one you’re sure he’s going to love more over any new jacket or gunbelt.

-

Micah’s day went about relatively normally for the most part, waking up together with a kiss and a coffee but you couldn’t help be slightly more affectionate than usual.

You’d spent most of the day together, Micah talking with you while you did chores and you talking with him while he (reluctantly) sat on guard duty. All the normal things about the day went on and you kept your secret until the sun was just about to dip over the mountain.

Micah was leaning against a tree, sharpening his knife when you came up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. You played with the ends of his hair, taking in the sight of him as he holstered the knife and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’ve got something for you.”

You leant forward and placed a soft kiss to his cheek, smiling against his skin at the curious sound he made.

“Hmm? You sure that something isn’t right here in front of me sweetheart?”

You giggle softly as Micah tries to pull you in closer for a proper kiss, deciding to indulge in his wishes for once. It was his birthday after all.

Pulling away from the surprisingly tender kiss, you give him a gentle smile as you untangle yourself from his arms.

“Common, let me show you.”

You take Micah by the hand, almost dragging him to the other side of camp by the horses which drew the attention from a few of the gang members but you didn’t have a care in the world as anticipation grew.

Leading him over to Baylock who is newly saddled, you watched as Micah stared blankly at it before tentatively bringing a hand up to feel over the soft premium leather.

The saddle was all black to match Baylock’s coat with white inlay in the seat and silver on the horn. All of it was the finest quality at your request and even the bedroll was a finer cotton than most.

Micah couldn’t help the smile that broke out onto his face and he turned to you looking like a kid on Christmas.

“You get this for little old me?”

Your own smile matched his as you wrapped your arms back around his neck once more.

“Well I thought since you’d never ever want another revolver and there isn’t much more you love than those guns and Baylock that you’d want a new saddle for him.”

Micah brought you in for a tight hug after that, managing to lift you slightly as you clung to him for dear life. He looked up at you from your new position.

“Sweetheart there ain’t nothing I love more than I do you—“

He sets you back on the ground, leaning in for a kiss but letting your noses bump and your foreheads touch.

“—worth more to me than any ol’ revolver, I love you.”

You close the gap between the two of you, melting into each other as you feel just how much Micah is in love with you.

“I love you too Mikey, and happy birthday— do you like it?”

The look you give him is one of hope and he can’t help but nod and wrap his arms tighter around your waist.

“Course I like it, but yer didn’t need to pay for this. Looks real fancy.”

Micah looked over the saddle once more, his eyes beaming as he saw how well it complemented Baylock’s coat. He was impressed, of course by the gift but because you had cared enough to get it for him and it only confirmed the feelings he had for you.

“Who says I paid for it?”

You saw Micah smirk at your comment and give a low evil laugh.

“That’s my sweetheart I know and love.”

Of course this time you had paid for the saddle, one of the few items you were willing to pay for but that didn’t mean the two of you didn’t steal practically everything else.

You pull away from Micah and hoist yourself up onto Baylock’s saddle, holding your hand out to a very confused looking Micah.

“Common you, I’ve got a nice bottle of whiskey and two glasses waiting for us.”

-

Down by the river you and Micah were perched up on a large rock that was floating in some shallow water by the river bank. You’d hidden the glasses and whiskey in a tree and the two of you were now laughing together as you drank through it slowly.

Your head was resting under his chin while his arm that wasn’t holding his glass was draped over your shoulder. The moonlight reflecting off the water was more than enough for the two of you to see as he topped up your glass for you.

“Gosh so how old are you now?”

Your words were light and charismatic, the two of you giggling about all sorts of things that night. Micah looked up in contemplation, humming as if he was trying to remember.

“Ehh must be close to forty now— thirty nine I think.”

You whistled, only to cut yourself off with a small laugh as you raised the glass to your mouth.

“You are getting old Mr.Bell, the next thing you know I’ll be able to outshoot you.”

“Sweetheart you can already outshoot me…”

Despite the lighthearted tone of the conversation, you noticed how Micah got uncharacteristically quiet.

“Micah? Are you alright?”

You sit up to face Micah, noticing the flush on his cheeks which wasn’t the fault of the whiskey and the way his attention was on sloshing the liquid in the glass.

“I am gettin’ old sweetheart, at least in terms o’ outlaws—“

“Micah what are you saying?”

You stare at him confused, completely unprepared for what he says next.

“— ‘m saying that i love you and yer the only one I’d ever wanna grow old with.”

Your eyes widen, in fear? in hope? You weren’t quite sure, maybe it was shock at the fact Micah Bell had said he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

“B-but I thought you didn’t want redemption!? I thought you never wanted to leave the gang, this life!”

Micah shakes his head, putting down your glasses and taking his hands in yours as he squeezes them to reassure himself more than anything.

“I didn’t— I don’t. Oh hell I don’t know what I want but I would throw it all away for you, if its what you wanted.”

He seems to regain some of his confidence after a deep breath and he waves his hands in front of you as he tries to formulate what he wants to say.

“Ya’know have a house and all that…”

You smile gently, your heart melting at the thought that Micah would give up everything for you. You lean forward, taking his hands and threading your fingers before kissing him.

The kiss depends as you momentarily forget where you are and you both start to let your hands wander lower over each other until Micah knocks the glass of whiskey over.

Pulling back from where you’d almost crawled on top of him, you smile sheepishly and sit back down on the rock. This time you sit between Micah’s legs so his arms can rest in your lap and his head can rest on your shoulder.

“Well a house and all that can wait since I’m perfectly happy growing old with you robbing and thieving our way across the plains.”

Your head rests against his own as you feel him litter soft kisses over your shoulder and neck.

“Sounds like something I could get used to.”

Micah whispers his words against your skin and the two of you enjoy the peace and each other’s company. Your hand gives his own a reassuring squeeze, letting your eyes close as you relax and listen to the sound of the river flowing.

“As long as I have you and get to celebrate a hundred more birthdays with you, I’ll be the happiest person in the world.”

Micah squeezes your hand back, sitting up so you could get comfortable against his chest as he rests his chin on top of your head.

“Not sure ‘bout a hundred but you have me for as long as this world lets me darlin’”

You hum sleepily, getting closer and closer to sleep as you listen to his gravelly voice.

“Promise?”

“I Promise”

#i dont even know what this is #warning: unedited af #micah bell #micah bell x reader #micah bell imagine #gn!reader #rdr2 #rdr2 writing #rdr2 headcanons #red dead redemption 2 #THE WRITERS BLOCK HITTT #😩😩😩

[dracowars]

was gud :) i LOVED your last request, and i can’t believe it was your 1 one - you’re definitely talented!! but i was wondering if you could write smth where y/n has a bruise on her face, bc harry and her had a big fight over draco.. she then tells him (cause he her bf), and draco goes completely crazy, and fights w/ harry in the bathrooms (yk movie typa style) - y/n then thinks that it’s all her fault, after he’s completely bruised and hurt -maybe like a cute fluffy ending? i love what you do xx

guardian | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x gryffindor!reader

word count: 5,0k

summary: where y/n stands up for draco

a/n: thank you for requesting! this got longer than i intended lmao and i changed the plot of the movie a little to fit this one shot! hope you enjoy it <3

warnings: angst, mentions of blood, swearing, also harry is pretty nasty here

universe: harry potter

It is a cold, snowy and wintry day at Hogwarts, snowflakes slowly floating out of the greyish clouds above the already in a thick layer of snow covered castle. Christmas is just around the corner and everyone is looking forward to the Christmas holidays and to being able to calm down from the stressful exam periods for a few weeks with their loved ones. You can't wait any longer either, because this year will be something very special.

This year you invited your boyfriend Draco to spend the festive holiday season with you and your family so that you can finally introduce him to them - not that they don't know already who Draco Lucius Malfoy is. Even if you are a Gryffindor and your family has very different views and values than Draco's, they are still accepting him and ready to welcome him with open, warm arms. Unlike your best friends Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Given that you were sent to Gryffindor in your first year at Hogwarts, it was only a matter of time before you befriend the three of them. In fact, you first were friends with the Harry Potter himself before he introduced you to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley and he is still one of your best friends until this point in time. However, when you got together with Draco Malfoy, the archenemy of the Golden Trio, they could no longer understand the world. How could someone like you be with someone like him?

Actually, you can't really explain it yourself, but at some point in your fourth year - probably when he asked you to go to the Yule Ball with him - one thing led to another and you found yourself madly in love with the platinum haired boy. Of course you can understand your best friends' view on your boyfriend, they have every reason to not like him, but it still does not give them the right to complain about your relationship over and over again. Instead of helping you with affairs of your and Draco's relationship, they often prefer to ignore you or give the popular answer: 'break up with him then'.

But because they are your closest friends, you (have to) tolerate their behavior, even if it has already caused you numerous sleepless nights. And Draco knows that. He knows how much the friendship with them can hurt you at times, and although he is not really fond of them either, he never once advised you to end your friendship. He is always trying to help you because deep inside he blames himself for making you feel so excluded from them. Because he is your boyfriend.

Several times he has already wondered whether he should break up with you just for the sake of you getting included into their friendship again. But he remained a little selfish and also was not strong enough to do it. He loves you too much.

Today, Harry and Ron made nasty remarks about Draco again right next to you in Potions, without taking into consideration that you were there. Only Hermione didn't get into their conversation and talked to you about the lesson. You don't know if she did it on purpose to distract you, but it luckily worked anyway.

Even so, you are smart enough to know that they talked about it until the end of the class. They talk about him all the time, it seems to have been their number one topic of conversation since the incident.

The incident when you went to the Three Broomsticks together several weeks ago to drink butterbeer and just enjoy yourselves, when you had to watch the poor girl Katie Bell, a Gryffindor from your year, pass out in front of you on the way back to Hogwarts. You helped her immediately and she was taken to the St. Mungo hospital. McGonagall later told you that it was a cursed necklace that was responsible for the accident.

And then it all started.

Harry and Ron were quick to blame Draco for the incident with Katie Bell, even though they had no sufficent proof at all. They were convinced that Draco must have had something to do with it, just because he is Draco Malfoy. And in fact, Draco actually acted strange lately, even towards you, but you would never assume that he would do something so cruel. Their accusions have grown so outrageous that you even had to distance yourself from your once best friends.

Still, you never told Draco about it. You know he would blew up in anger if he knew and since he is acting differently at the moment anyway, you don't want to make him feel even worse. That is why you kept it to yourself until now, to protect him.

After a while, you got closer with, mainly, Hermione again, but the constant reminders of what happened did not stop. Nevertheless you try your best to endure it and that is exactly why you are currently sitting at the Gryffindor table in the festively decorated Great Hall, listening to Harry and Ron's conversation, that, for once, is not about your boyfriend or what he might have done.

At least not until Katie Bell, happy and healthy, suddenly enters the Great Hall again after her absence.

"Harry, over there! Katie Bell is back", Ron whispers and Harry turns around to look for her. Immediately, you lower your fork, that still has food attached to it, and swallow down the lump in your throat, waiting for them to make their next move. To say you have a very bad feeling about this situation is an understatement. "Guys. Let her be, she just arrived-"

"I will go up to her and ask what happened. She will surely confirm that Malfoy gave her the cursed necklace", Harry explains, rudly ignoring your comment while already standing up. Before he leaves, Harry gives you a look that says something in the lines of 'i'll prove to you who you got involved with'.

With tension and anger slowly building up inside of you, because he just won't let it go, you can only watch Harry go away and confront Katie. From her gestures you absoultely can't tell what she is telling your 'best friend', you can only hope that she tells the truth and that it wasn't Draco.

Speaking of which, right in this moment Draco enters the Great Hall and unintentionally walks straight towards Harry, who has just finished his conversation with the victim and doesn't even come back to your table but directly walks in Draco's direction. Draco, realizing that something is wrong, turns around and leaves the hall as quickly as he entered it.

With a jolt you get up from the table, accidentally throwing down your fork to the ground, and run out of the Great Hall, following them. You don't know what Katie told Harry, but it can't be something good considering the look that you saw on Harry's face.

"Harry!", you loudly yell at him when you finally catch up to him in a long, empty hallway with no sign of Draco anywhere. You stop Harry from going further by grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back. "Stop chasing him, please. Draco has nothing to do with this", you try to convince him, even though you don't even know what Katie told him, and thoughts, thoughts that should not be there and not even exist, creep into your mind slowly but surely. Thoughts that Draco might actually have something to do with it after all.

"Why are you still protecting him, Y/N?! He cursed Katie Bell, maybe even wanted to kill her and you still don't want me to follow him just because you are so blind of love that you don't even notice the monster that he is?", Harry angrily spats out, pointing his wand at you, which he had already drawn out of his pocket while he was running before. Feeling uncomfortable with a wand so close to your face, you furiously slap it away with your hand.

"Don't you dare to ever talk about him like that again", you threaten Harry, grinding your teeth and clenching your fist in an attempt to not do something any second that you would probably regret. "He is and always will be a ruthless Malfoy, Y/N. So stop playing dumb. We both know that he did it", Harry responds, accompanied by a disappointed shake of his head.

"Do you have any evidence?", you ask, expectantly cocking your eyebrow at him. You don't really want to know if he does because if he really does, it will surely break your heart into pieces. "What evidence does it still need for you to finally understand?", Harry huffs out annoyed. "There is no point in discussing with you anyway. I just want to talk to your boyfriend, so if you would excuse me now."

Without waiting for your answer, he continues to run through the corridor quickly, but the anger in your veins has now become so great that you follow him instantly and, this time more roughly, grab him by the wrist, bringing him to a halt. When he removes his hand from your grip angrily, he accidentally hits you directly in the face, which is why you stumble back a few steps.

Shocked, you cover your face with your hands, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes that form from the stinging pain. Not only do you seem shocked, but Harry himself too. Slowly you remove your trembling hands, only to discover a thick red substance on it. Your stomach makes a flip at the sight. Harry hit you with so much force that your nose is bleeding.

"Y-Y/N. I didn't mean to-", he stumbles over his words, trying to make up for what he did only seconds ago. But maybe this was the one action that you needed to realize what kind of a 'best friend' you have.

Or had.

"You didn't mean to?!", you scoff, trying your best to stop the blood from flooding out of your nostrils. "So this was not what you wanted to do for a long time, huh? Did you not even realize how much you and your antics hurt me already? You always think you know everything better and act like the hero everyone has been waiting for when you should really think about whether you are the actual monster here, Potter."

And with these hurtful words you turn around on your heel and go look out for Draco by yourself, not caring what Harry has to say. Most of all, you wish to never have to exchange a word with him in your life ever again.

Still angry, you stomp through the lonely corridors on your own, hoping to find your boyfriend soon, especially before Harry does. On your way you notice that the blood is already dripping to the ground and thus you are trailing a trail of blood drops behind you. You are just about to wipe the blood off with the back of your hand when you suddenly hear crying echoing through the empty hallway. Without hesitation, you run in the direction of the suppressed sobs that are getting louder and louder the closer you get until you eventually stop in front of the boys bathroom.

You wipe your face with your hand once and crack open the door a tiny bit to be able to get a glimpse inside the room. The bathroom is quite dark and cold and your gaze directly falls onto a figure leaning against one of the sinks, sobbing bitterly. His entire body is shaking from crying, your heart breaking at the sight, and you can see the knuckles on his fragile hands turn white as his grip tightens on the edge of the sink.

"Draco?", you whisper as quietly as possible to not scare him, your voice only inches away from breaking at the sight you are seeing in front of you. He always portrays himself as strong and proud when in reality he is breaking inside. His head snaps up instantly, looking at you standing behind him through the dirty mirror, defintely not expecting you here.

Draco turns around to face you, his shoulders hanging low as he so badly trys to stifle his sobs, not wanting to show him his weak side. Only now you notice the deep dark circles under his beautiful eyes - which have also lost their shimmer - and how emaciated his face is, how thin his entire body has become. Trying not to cry yourself because of the horrible sight, you slowly walk towards him, picking up his sweater he threw on the floor. As soon as you stand in front of him, you carefully take one of his trembling hands in yours, neither of you saying a word.

Your hand gently strokes up his arm until you reach his shoulder and you then place your hand on his neck. You look deep into his eyes, which suddenly seem so helpless and anxious. "I haven't seen you in days.. You look terrible, Draco", you softly pout at him, brushing a tear from his cheek.

"It wasn't me, Y/N. No matter what they say, it really was not me", Draco whimpers silently, taking your hand that previously was on his neck in his, pressing it against his chest, right at the place where his fast pounding heart beats against his skin. His sad eyes, filled with so much pain, seek eye contact with you, his face taking a desperate posture, scared about what will happen. Scared that you will not believe him. "I have been doing a lot of very very bad things lately, but I really did not do anything to that girl. You have to believe me, Y/N! I would never-"

"I believe you, Draco", you interupt him with a reassuring smile, glad that he opend up to you even if it was just a tiny bit, and move a little closer to him, gaze focused on your intertwined hands. "I will always believe you, baby. It hurts me to see you like this."

"You were not supposed to ever see me like this", Draco confesses, lowering his head in defeat. You gently place your hand on his jawline and and lead his face to look at you. "Don't say something like that. We all are allowed to sometimes let down our guard, even a Draco Malfoy is allowed to do so. You can't always be strong. And even if you are hiding something from me, I know that you have a plausible reason for it. Because I trust you, Draco. With my life", you explain, smoothly placing a kiss on his tear stained cheek.

Despite your statement that was supposed to soothe his tense posture, worry, that you can easily identify, creeps into his pale face. Contrary to what you expect - that he is still worried about you not believing him -however, this concern applies to you. "You're bleeding, Y/N!", Draco realizes, frightened, and his cold hands cup your face immediately, examining your face in the most precise way.

Since you have totally forgotten about both your nosebleed and the half-dried blood on your hands, your breath hitches as his thumb lightly brushes your nose. Draco's previously white long-sleeved shirt has blood stains all over it now, as does his sweater that you are still holding in one of your hands. "What happened?", Draco asks with concern in his broken voice as you wipe away the blood with the back of your hand one more time.

While you are looking for a suitable answer and the right words, Draco gets you a towel to prevent the blood from running down your chin. Carefully, he dabs it over the lower part of your face while you convulsively grimace. "When.. when you ran out of the Great Hall after seeing Harry and Katie Bell talk, Harry followed you straight away, but I couldn't let him hurt you or do anything to you, so I went after him. I wanted to stop him and, well, he hit me right in the face with his hand", you describe what happend and Draco's expression that was still worried a few seconds ago suddenly turns into one of pure anger.

"He did what?", he spits out, clenching his fists. "Draco, please. I don't think he did it on purpose, but it finally showed me what kind of friends I have. Don't worry, it is not as bad as it looks like", you give him a loving smile, but even that does not seem to calm him down at all. "Not as bad as it looks?! He hit you bloody, Y/N! He is pathetic if he thinks that he will get away with it that easily. No, not with me. I'm going to find this bastard now and teach him a lesson, once and for all", Draco rages, his jaw clenched as he passes you and goes to the door.

You quickly grab his arm and prevent him from leaving when suddenly said person steps through the door to the bathroom. Draco's muscles tense under your grip. "You!", he yells at Harry immediately, jumping towards him but being held back by you. "You hexed her, didn't you? Why did you curse Katie Bell, Malfoy? What the hell are you up to again?", Harry confronts him, his brows furrowed.

"What did you do to my girlfriend, Potter?! Who do you think you are?", Draco immediately counters and tightly grabs Harry by the collar with his free hand. "I swear to Merlin, I will kill you."

Everything happens so quickly that you don't even realize it at first. Harry throws himself on Draco, who has broken out of your grip, hitting im with his fist directly in the face several times before Draco gains the upper hand and manages to kick Harry off of him, who slams on the floor with a cry. "Stop it you two! Do you want to kill yourselves?!", you step in, but Draco quickly gets up and pushes you to the side.

"Get out of here, Y/N. Now!", he orders, but you don't even think of leaving the two of them alone here. When Harry has straightend up again as well, they both have their wand in their hand, ready to fight. "Now it is time to show what the Chosen One is capable of", Draco provokes and shortly afterwards a red spell is already shooting in his direction. Draco skilfully evades the Expelliarmus spell and uses his own on Harry, also missing his target by a few inches.

"You have no chance against me, Malfoy", Harry mentions before attacking again, this time using Expulso. Draco dodges the spell which then hits the mirrors right between you and him, shattering them into a thousand pieces, the explosion throwing you to the ground. The floor of the room fills with water because the sinks were also damaged and Draco hastily pulls you out of the puddle. "Stay behind me", he quietly tells you, shooting at Harry who takes cover behind the toilet cabin.

For a moment, you do not hear any sound from his direction anymore. Draco's and your quick breath and the running water echo around the cold room. You cling more onto his arm, seeking protection, as you hear Harry's steps in the water. Draco immediately pulls you behind him, finding cover. Carefully, he looks around the corner, only to see Harry at the other end.

In the meantime you have also taken out your wand and listen closely to be able to locate Harry's exact position. Draco kneels down on the wet floor and looks under the cubicles, discovers Harry's feet on the other side and shoots Expulso at him. One of the toilets and cabins breaks under the impact of the spell and more water comes flooding onto the ground.

Draco and you quietly take a step forward to face Harry, but as soon as you do, a curse that you have never heard before flies into your direction. Draco stands in front of you to protect you and gets hit by the spell, stumbling back a few steps before falling to the floor with a splash. A loud scream escapes your throat and you manage to disarm Harry with Expelliarmus.

Whimpering, Draco lies on the floor covered in blood, the water around him turning a dark red color. With a cry you fall on your knees and crawl over to his trembling figure, carefully placing his head on your lap and holding his face in your hands. His body twitches at the pain emanating from the wounds that appear as if they have been slashed with a sword, and his lips quiver, emitting suffering noises.

"No, no, no, no! Look at me, baby. It will be alright, okay? We will fix it", you sob, caressing his cheek with your thumb as tears stream down your face. A shadow covers you as Harry slowly walks towards you. "What did you do? What kind of curse was that, Harry?! Undo it. Now!", you yell at him, your crying only getting worse. Shock and regret are written on his face, his gaze switching to Draco, who is suffering terribly. "Sectumsempra", Harry says in not more than a whisper. He himself does not know what he has done and shakes his head in disbelief, suddenly turning away from you and then he just runs out of the flodded bathroom.

"Come back, you coward! You can't just leave me here!", you shout after him, without succes. He is already gone.

While still holding Draco in your arms, you quickly look around for your wand, which lays in the water a few meters away from you. You carefully stretch in its direction and get hold of it. "Episkey", you whisper repeatedly, trying to stop Draco's bleeding, but to no avail. "HELP! Please, I need help. Someone has to help me", you yell as loud as you can, hopefully drawing someone's attention to you. Draco's breathing becomes faster and more irregular by every second that passes, his body trembling under your touch.

"Hold on, Draco. I will fix this, just stay with me, okay?", you assure him, but slowly lose hope yourself since all of the healing spells you have ever learned are unsuccessful. "I am so sorry..", you cry out, your forehead gently touching his. Now, all you can hear are your sobs and Draco's painful whimpers.

And footsteps.

"What happened here?", Professor Snape suddenly appears in the room, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the young and badly hurt Malfoy in your arms. "P-Potter.. He-", you try to explain but Snape shoves you to the side ungently, taking a closer look at Draco's injuries. He takes out his wand right away and runs the tip over Draco's wounded torso.

"Vulnera Salentur", Snape speaks to himself and you watch the puddle of blood that had formed around Draco's almost lifeless body disappear, as do the blood stains on his white shirt. Except those made of your blood.

His breathing regulates itself again and not waiting one more second, Professor Snape picks him up and directly heads to the door. You quickly follow him without saying a word, just sobbing to yourself all the way to the hospital wing. However, before you can go inside, you are stopped by Madam Pomfrey and can only watch Snape laying down Draco on one of the hospital beds before the door closes in front of you.

Heavily crying you lean against the wall with your back next to the door and let yourself sink to the floor, your knees drawn to your body and your forehead on top of them. Your small figure permeated by your bitter sobs, you don't even notice when the door opens after a few minutes and Snape stands in front of you. "Ms. Y/L/N", he clears his throat, your head shooting up in shock while tears run down your cheeks like waterfalls.

"Will he be okay?", you poud, wiping some of your tears away while standing up. "We assume. He needs a lot of rest", he explains and you nod in approval, sinking down your head. "I won't even bother to ask what happened. But you may want to get treated as well", he adds, pointing to the dried blood that is smeared over your face and hands. "Thank you, Professor, but I would rather stay here and wait", you answer in a sad voice.

"Then why out here?", Snape asks reproachfully, cocking an eyebrow. Confusion written all over your face you stare at him, not understand at all what he is pointing at, and he just crosses his arms with a sigh. "I told Madam Pomfrey about you and your relationship to Mr. Malfoy. She allows you to stay with him as long as you stay quiet", he explains. "O-Of course! I will not make any noise", you assure him and with a nod he leads you into the hospital wing.

Draco is lying on a white hospital bed with closed eyes, the blanket pulled up to his chin, only his head peeking out from underneath. Madam Pomfrey eyes you suspiciously, but still points to a chair next to the bed which you are supposed to sit on. You sit close to the bed and look at Draco with sad eyes, your tears still finding their way over your already damped cheeks. There are bluish purple spots on his face, the result of Harry's punches, and his lip has been treated where it was split open.

"He should regain consciousness soon. I have never treated a student who was under the Sectumsempra curse before. Let us hope for the best", says Madam Pomfrey as she clears some medical bottles from a small table next to you. "You are lucky that Professor Snape was there."

"Thank you, Professor. For everything", you sniff and give him the best warm smile you can manage right now. Snape seems quite surprised at your words, but then nods before leaving the room. Madam Pomfrey also leaves you and Draco alone for now.

The longer you look at Draco and his current condition, the worse the guilt builds up inside of you. You gently touch his forehead with your tembling hand and brush a platinum blonde strand from his face. "It's all my fault", you cry and search for his hand under the covers, which you then carefully take into yours. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

Dejected and overwhelmed by guilt, you drop your head and cry relentlessly, your sobs giving the empty room a sorrowful atmosphere. Suddenly, you feel pressure on your hand and look up. Draco's eyelids twitching lightly before his eyes slowly flutter open, his gaze meeting yours. "Hey, darling. What's wrong?", he asks in a hoarse voice, worry spreading over his features.

"You are awake!", you say, even more tears running down your cheeks. "I was so scared, Draco", you sob and he puts his hand on your cheek with a soft smile on his lips. "Look, I'm fine now, Y/N. You don't need to worry anymore", he tries to cheer you up even though you both perfectly know that he is not fine yet.

"If it hadn't been for me, none of this would have happened. And then I couldn't even help you and there was blood everywhere, your blood, and-", you ramble but his index finger on your trembling lips stops you from doing so. "There is no way that it is your fault, sweetheart. If anyone is to blame, it is Potter", he denies your statement. "B-But you could have die-"

"Stop it, Y/N! If anything, you saved my life. And I would do the same for you. I would go through this pain over and over again if it means that I can protect you", he states and you fall into his arms, his eyes now full of tears as well because in his eyes it looks like you have suffered a lot more than him. All the blood that is still covering your soaked clothes, your hands and your face, shows him that you are in a just as bad of a condition as he is.

"Don't cry because of me. I'm not worth your precious tears, sweetheart", he claims while giving you a tired smile. "I should have never trusted Harry. I didn't know that you could be so wrong about a person", you apologize again. "I can't believe I was so stupid!"

Draco, sensing your building up feelings of guilt, tries to sit up a bit but abruptly stops in his movement, hissing in pain. Alarmed, you get up and gently push him back into the mattress. "Does it still hurt? Should I let Madam Pomfrey know?", you ask worriedly and smooth the covers over his so fragile looking body. In your mind already on the way to Madam Pomfrey, Draco only shakes his head in disapproval. "No, I'm fine. Just a little bit sore, that's all", he genuinely smiles at you, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him.

Your faces only inches away now you stare into his grey eyes while they roam over your face. "How is your nose?", he asks and his fingers, which found their way to your cheek earlier, lightly brush over the bridge of your nose. His questions makes you huff out and you move away, your cheeks turning in a slightly tint of red. "That is not important right now, Draco. You getting well again is much more important than my nose", you roll your eyes because he is still not paying attention to his own condition that is much worse than yours.

"Not for me", his stubborn self answers, pouding like a child. And before you know it he pulls you back and connects your lips in a loving and cheering kiss. A soft kiss to thank each other for being the other's guardian.

#draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy headcanon #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy angst #draco lucius malfoy #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco oneshot #draco malfoy fluff #draco fluff #draco angst #draco x reader #draco malfoy fic #draco fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #hp imagine #harry potter x reader

[marvel-and-mischief]

Play Me One More Time

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader Words: 3900 Warnings: FLUFF, little bit of angst but it's completely overwhelmed by the FLUFF, a swear word or two Synopsis: Marcus puts out a call for your old band to get back together again. You accept, but how long will it take before old feelings for Marcus get in the way?

Inspired by this gifset

Fic Masterpost

The notification popped up on your phone during your lunch break at work. Where you sat at your classroom desk next to the window you could hear children screaming and laughing. You nearly missed the ping of your phone over the sounds.

Holding your half eaten sandwich in one hand, you curiously swiped down from the top of your phone and clicked on the notification without much thought.

Marcus Pike has sent you a message!

You lost your grip on your sandwich as it plonked down onto your lap, but that was the least of your worries. You frantically tried to exit out of the messaging app before it could open but nothing worked. The conversation opened and the word 'read' stared at you mockingly underneath his message.

You sighed, ignoring the sauce that was seeping through your cotton trousers. You had no choice but to read it now. And then you'd have to reply to whatever he had sent you or he'd think you were ignoring him.

Hey! Long time no speak! I've been in touch with Jo and Tom and was wondering if you wanted to get the old band back together? Maybe have a catch up if you're not too busy? Let me know :)

You chewed on your bottom lip as you reread the message half a dozen times, heart hammering in your chest as you realised Marcus must be back in your hometown. You'd heard through Jo that he'd moved to Washington a couple of years ago, so what had brought him back?

You haven't played in the band since your college days, and your only captive audience since then has been the pre-school kids you teach. But you couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Marcus again, the man you'd been head over heels in love with since you knew what love was.

The school bell rang throughout the building, signalling the end of recess and the beginning of afternoon lessons.

Marcus! So good to hear from you. Would love to catch up, are you free this weekend? x

By the time you cleaned up your trousers you had your reply.

This weekend is great. Want to meet at our old diner? Heard Mr Howells still owns it.

You grinned down at your phone, thinking about the afternoons you used to play hooky with Marcus and hide out at Mr Howells' diner. You were surprised Marcus remembered it.

He does! The burgers haven't changed either. Is Saturday 6pm any good?

You tapped your feet as you waited for his reply. Your children were lining up outside the door and you needed to know if you were having a date with your forever crush before continuing with your day.

When your phone pinged, you breathed out a sigh of relief.

Sounds perfect. Can't wait to see you again! :)

You sent the thumbs up emoji and put your phone away, opening the classroom door with a smile on your face and a pep in your step.

-

You'd been here, at Mr Howells' Diner, a week before Christmas with a couple of teacher friends you worked with but now it felt different. Now you had memories of you and Marcus giggling over overflowing chocolate milkshakes and feeling sick from gorging on too many salty fries floating through your head. You saw Marcus' baby face fading into a sharp jawline and high cheekbones, you'd seen him change from boy to man in this diner, and he'd seen you change from girl to woman.

You bounced from one foot to the other nervously as you peaked through the window of the door in search of your old friend.

"You could've waited inside," came a deep voice from behind you. You spun around and came face to face with Marcus. He glowed yellow and red under the neon sign above you, but he looked beautiful, grin plastered wide on his face as he took you in for the first time in years.

"Hey," you managed to breathe out a welcome without too much embarrassment, "I didn't know if you were already here."

"Shall we?" Marcus stepped closer to reach around you and open the door.

You blinked to readjust your eyes to the bright fluorescent lights inside the diner. You giggled when you realised Marcus was doing the same.

"You weren't lying, it's hardly changed since we were kids," Marcus laughed, eyeing the original furnishings and old menu signs hanging on the walls.

You took a seat in your old booth, the one you and Marcus would automatically flock to when you were younger. It was far enough away from the counter that you had privacy for your teenage musings, but it overlooked the car park so you could watch out for anyone you needed to hide from.

"This takes me back," Marcus mused, shaking off his coat when you did the same.

"Yeah, it brings back so many memories."

"Do they still do the Choc'o'Shock shakes?"

You laughed and pointed towards the milkshake menu above the counter.

"They do!?" Marcus gasped loudly, eyes wide in surprise, "that was my favorite, with the popping candy-"

"- and the cinnamon, yeah, we used to share because it was in the extra large glass."

"Yeah, oh man."

Your laughter died down as soon as the waitress came over and took your orders. Your nerves from earlier had completely disappeared. Even in the silence that followed the waitress leaving the table it was comfortable as you both tried to find the words to start a conversation.

"I've been in Washington for a couple of years," Marcus began.

"For work?"

"Yeah, I needed to go away for a bit. Some things happened and a fresh start was what I needed."

You nodded as you listened. You wanted to ask more but you had to remember your friendship wasn't what it used to be. There was a boundary now, an unspoken line that came with not being in each other's lives for so long.

"Are you back for good?" you asked.

"I hope so. Nothing beats home, y'know?"

"I dunno, I envied you moving to the city whilst I stayed on the outskirts. Felt like you were moving on to bigger and better things and I was staying still." You shrugged it off. You hadn't meant to be that honest but it was what you had felt at the time.

"You're still teaching aren't you?"

"Yeah," you smiled at the waitress as she brought over your drinks, you were glad for the distraction.

"You still like teaching?"

"I wouldn't want to do anything else," you smiled, thinking of the kids you taught, "it's a privilege to get to shape young minds, y'know? Even at pre-school age, they're so inquisitive, and they question everything and I'm the one that gives them the answers."

Marcus smiled as he listened. You suddenly felt shy under his intense gaze, something you'd never felt around him before. But he was listening, really listening to you and it felt so good that he wanted to get to know this different, older version of the person he'd known years ago.

"You look happy," Marcus sighed happily, though you sensed something else in his tone that you couldn't put your finger on.

"I'm happy with my job," you replied, but now there was something in your tone, a comment unspoken, 'I'm happy with my job but not in other aspects of my life'.

"And outside of work?"

Damn you Marcus and your ability to look right through me.

You gave him a smile that didn't reach your eyes, a smile that told him that things weren't as perfect as your job.

"I can't complain."

"You can to me," Marcus pushed his coffee to the side and gave you his full attention. He'd always been good at giving you his full attention, maybe that was why it was so easy to fall in love with him.

"I live on my own, have for a while. It's fine, it's what it is." You couldn't look him in the eye, instead focusing on cars pulling in and out of the parking lot.

"I get it. The older I get the harder it is to find someone special," Marcus said wistfully. You glanced over to him and he showed you a crooked smile. "It is what it is."

Your food was placed down in front of you and thankfully your conversations turned lighthearted.

The hug he gave you on the steps outside the diner was longer than normal but you weren't one to complain. You held him close, breathing in the sweet, smoky scent of his cologne and committing it to memory.

"Band practice."

You sighed dramatically as you pulled away from him.

"I sing to pre-schoolers, I'm not as good as I used to be."

"You had a voice of an angel, that doesn't just go away."

You rolled your eyes at his compliment, but you felt warm inside.

"Just don't laugh at me, okay?"

"I promise," Marcus said, and you believed him.

-

Band practise was at Tom's childhood home, just like the good old days. He had moved into the house when his parent's moved back to their home country of Cuba when they retired five years ago. The white, spiky outer walls reminded you of the time when you fell up the steps and smacked your head against the sharp spikes. You involuntarily cringed.

The garage was nostalgic in every way. It still housed a legless, cracking leather couch (where you used to sit way too close to Marcus on), Tom's 90's television set sat above collections of dusty VHS tapes, bicycle frames decorated the walls and a drum kit was set up on the far side of the wall.

"Please don't tell me the drums have been here since the end of college?"

Tom laughed and shook his head at you.

"Jo helped me get them down from the attic."

You raised your eyebrows at Jo who blushed and quickly looked away in response. There had been this unspoken thing between her and Tom throughout college, just as there had always been something quietly charged between you and Marcus. Except you had your suspicions that Jo and Tom had had the courage to do something about their thing at some point.

Marcus entered through the garage door, rubbing his hands together with a childlike excitement on his face.

"I don't know if it's because I'm getting old but I've been looking forward to this all week."

You laughed and before you knew it you were behind a microphone stand singing late 90's/early 2000's indie anthems with your friends playing behind you.

"Should we play some of our old songs?" Jo asked innocently.

"No."

"Fuck no."

"Absolutely not."

You all burst into fits of giggles.

You thought back to those songs you used to write and sing. "They were all so..."

"Angsty."

You turned to Marcus who had spoken. You nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, what was that about? What was going on in our lives that we had to write like that?"

You were being lighthearted but the way Marcus flashed you a sad smile had you taken aback. What did Marcus write about? You wished you still had your lyric books, maybe that would give a clue as to what teenage Marcus Pike was thinking and feeling.

"Lunch break anyone?" Tom shook you out of your thoughts and you were quick to jump at the chance to change the subject.

-

Over the next few months you all met up for band practice whenever you were all free, which was rare. Eventually the meet ups became less about the music and more about getting to know what was going on in your friend's lives since college.

The summer evenings were getting cooler and you took the opportunity to light a fire pit in Tom's back garden and sit around with beers in hand and Jo's phone hooked up to a small speaker playing background music to your conversations.

"So, the FBI, " Jo took a sip of her beer, "you must have some stories."

Marcus preened under the attention, goofy smile stretched wide as he picked at the label on his beer bottle.

"Yeah, none that I can tell you I'm afraid."

You joined in on the mock 'boos' that echoed around the pit. Marcus laughed.

"I'm sorry! Anyway, I specialised in art, it's not that interesting."

"Any art heists?"

"No, Jo."

"You know I saw a documentary on Netflix about these Rembrandt's..."

Tom's voice seemed to fade away as you caught Marcus' eye over the flames of the fire. You felt content under his gaze, like you'd done this a million times, like you were teenagers again listening to Tom go on about something you weren't interested in, hearing Jo pacify him absentmindedly whilst you and Marcus spoke without speaking.

It reminded you how in sync you always were, and still seemed to be. It hurt that after all these years there was still something between you, but was it enough? Marcus had come back to his hometown but you still weren't sure why.

You smiled a wobbly smile and stood from your camping chair.

"I'm just going to get some water," you announced and made your way towards the kitchen.

You didn't put the light on, instead taking to stand in the darkest corner of the room to catch your breath. You closed your eyes and leant your head back against the wall, not seeing Marcus following you in.

"You okay?"

You jumped in surprise but didn't choose to reply to him just yet. You needed to gather your thoughts together, try and have this conversation without all the emotions you felt bubbling up inside of you spilling out in front of Marcus.

"Why did you come back?"

You opened your eyes to see Marcus leaning back against the kitchen island. He was too far away to touch, but close enough that you could smell the smoke from the fire on his clothes.

"It's home. It's where I'm most comfortable. It's where all my memories are."

Were you satisfied with that answer? It seemed too vague to be completely true, but Marcus was never a liar. He seemed to sense where your head's at and sighed.

"There was someone. I wanted it to be serious. We got engaged, I promised her the world, we were going to fly out to Washington together. But it turned out I wasn't who she wanted."

You don't know what got to you the most, the fact that someone rejected this wonderful man, or that he didn't sound all that sad about it.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it made me realise I didn't want any of it either. I do want all of that, but not with her."

He whispered the last bit but in the silence of the kitchen it was hard to miss. He wanted someone else. And at that realisation you think you felt your heart crack cleanly in two.

You didn't know how to respond without admitting how you've felt for over fifteen years. You leaned away from the corner you had tried to hide yourself in and came to stand in front of Marcus.

"It's her loss. You know that, right?"

Marcus' eyes sparkled in the setting sun, and you realised it was because they were watery. You moved forward quicker than you could think and engulfed him in your arms, holding him tight to your chest as he instantly wrapped his arms around you.

You had done this hundreds of times, but this time it felt special, and you couldn't put your finger on why.

-

Your morning class hadn't even begun when your phone rang in your bag. Glancing at the bright red clock on the wall you had five minutes before the first bell. You frowned, trying to find your phone amongst the mess of tissues, pens and bandaids that had fallen out of their packaging before you saw Marcus' name flashing on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I'm sorry it's so early, I'm just getting into work. I was wondering if you were free tonight?"

You felt your heart jackhammer in your chest and you inwardly cursed at the way Marcus' question had sounded. Like a date. You rolled your eyes at your nonsense.

"I should be free. Why?"

"I wanted to go back to the diner if you're up for it? We didn't order the Choc'o'Shock shake, wanted to see if it tastes exactly like it used to."

You smiled at the thought of sharing a shake like you used to, and found yourself agreeing.

"Sounds good. Meet you there at seven?"

"Seven's great."

You ended the call just as the bell rang. You reminded yourself that you were just two friends, catching up like you have been for months. And you wouldn't let yourself get your hopes up. Because now that you had Marcus back in your life, you wanted to keep it that way. And you weren't going to ruin it by telling him you loved him when he didn't love you back.

-

You got there ten minutes early so you took a seat at yours and Marcus' favored booth and waited. There was hardly anyone in the diner, a couple of families dotted about, two teenagers on a date giggling over milkshakes. It made you smile and hope that things turned out better for them than it did for you and Marcus.

The bell over the door chimed and in walked Marcus, freshly shaved, hair perfectly ruffled. He wore a smart jacket over a casual shirt and jeans. It made you feel a little underdressed, should you have dressed up?

He spotted you, long legs striding over with a purpose before taking the seat across from you, out of breath and cheeks tinged pink.

"I thought I was going to be late. Got a new assistant in the office but he's struggling to get to grips with the way I like things."

You smiled, trying to imagine the gangly, slightly awkward boy in your memories as someone professional, and bossy. You giggled.

"I've only just got here myself."

Marcus threaded his fingers together on top of the black and white checkered table.

"I wanted to talk to you actually, about the other night."

You frowned. Did he mean the night in the kitchen where you comforted him?

"You don't have to feel bad about it. It's normal to let out your emotions."

Marcus smiled gratefully. "I know that, I just want to be honest. I've always been a man who is upfront with the people I care about."

You nodded. Marcus was an honourable, straightforward man. You knew he'd never go behind your back and say something, he was completely trustworthy in that sense. In every sense. He was just a good guy.

"I didn't have to come back here this year. I had choices but after everything that had happened, I realised some things."

You mirrored his posture, hands on the table an inch away from his and gave him your full attention. Despite feeling sick to your stomach about what he was going to say next, you knew he needed you to listen, so you did.

"D'you remember the time I got my drivers license, and I took you for a ride in my dad's old pick up truck?"

"Of course. I warned you you should have driven something smaller so soon after your test."

"Yeah but I was trying to show off and I ended up getting it stuck in mud and I had to call my dad out to free us."

You chuckled at the memory. Marcus had been so embarrassed and you'd calmed him down by holding his shaky hand and plying him with copious amounts of gum to chew on to distract him.

"And when I got my letter to say I'd been accepted into the FBI training program, you were there when I opened it. And when we shared our first sip of alcohol at thirteen, and you got me my first VHS that taught me how to play bass, you remember that?"

"I remember it all, but I don't understand where you're going with this." You weren't opposed to this trip down memory lane, but it was bringing back all these moments in your life that just reminded you that you'd always loved him.

"If I made a movie of my life, all the important parts would have you in them. All the parts that make up the man I am today are filled with you. I never want you out of my life again."

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. You grabbed a paper napkin and quickly patted at the tears falling down your cheeks as you prepared to ask the question that may change your life forever.

"What are you saying, Marcus?"

"I love you."

You let out a shaky breath. Marcus gently took your hands in his.

"I think I always have, but I know for sure I do now. And these past months have confirmed everything. I love you."

"I've loved you since the day I met you. When I grazed my knees in the park by your house and you heard me crying from your garden. And you ran over and pulled me up to my feet and played with me."

Marcus laughed loudly, disturbing the teenagers a few booths over who looked annoyed in your direction. You couldn't care less.

"I remember. My mom told me off for playing with a strange girl but we were inseparable after that."

"We've wasted so much time," you whispered sadly.

"No. How have we? We've spent most of our life together, building memories, having the time of our lives. We've been apart for a bit but has it felt like it?"

You thought about it and realised Marcus was right. You've gotten back into the rhythm of your friendship. It's not once been awkward. Since your last diner date it's like you had never been apart.

"I suppose it hasn't."

"So," Marcus began, clearing his throat and flashing you a cheeky smile, "do we count this as the first date or...?"

You let out a shuddery laugh. "Marcus, we've been here a hundred times."

"I know but, only as friends."

"Were we ever really just friends? We were in this weird, middle-ground where everyone knew we were into each other but we never went further than a kiss on the cheek."

"Ah! There was that one time."

You frowned and crossed your arms. "What are you talking about?"

"Christmas break during the first year of college, I turned too much when you leaned in for a kiss on the cheek and we ended up kissing on the lips."

You laughed, a full belly laugh that had Marcus gently shushing you, though he couldn't contain his chuckling either.

"I completely forgot!"

"That breaks my heart," Marcus said with a wink.

You eventually ordered your Choc'o'Shock shake, sharing it like you used to. Except this time everything was on the table. Your feelings were out in the open, you were happier than you'd ever been and there was hope for you and Marcus to go forward together.

“Would you like a redo on that kiss?” Marcus asked on the steps outside the diner.

You pretended to think about it before taking hold of the lapels of his jackets. “I’d like that very much.”

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @bts17army @phoenixhalliwell @anu-simps @computeringturtle

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #the mentalist #Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike fanfic

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (5)

(The next update is here! Feel free to check out the mini series connected to this fic called Journal Entries. I will warn anyone who checks it out that I’m probably not going to continue the entries, though.)

Ch.1 / Ch.4 / Ch.6

Chapter 5: Late Night Visits

Felix idly watched the elevator light flicker from circle to circle as he reached the top floor. He tugged lightly at the green color of the shirt that Marinette had given him, preparing for his mother’s overbearing questions. She’d been trying to get him to wear something other than his suits for at least a year. When she saw him in this attire, she was going to have a fit.

Felix blew out a sigh. Normally, he would have changed back to his other clothes by now- Mme Sabine did an excellent job of cleaning them and tucking them into his bag, neatly folded -but Marinette told everyone that they could keep their outfits. After an offer like that, it seemed rude to change. 

The elevator emitted a soft *ding* to inform him that he’d arrived on his selected floor, and Felix drew in a deep breath, watching the golden-colored doors slide open. Here it comes.

The family penthouse was shrouded in darkness, save for the flames that flickered in the fireplace of the open living. It cast a soft, orange glow on the furniture and floors, and in the midst of the distorted dimness, Felix could make out his mother lounging leisurely on one of the light blue couches. It wasn’t unlike her to keep the house lights off while he or Father was away. She claimed that it helped think and relax. 

When the elevator doors rattled closed, his mother sat up from the couch and turned to him, her eyes bright and curious. A part of him hoped that she couldn’t spot his new outfit in the darkness, but that hope was quickly dashed as she hopped up with a gasp.

“Oh my goodness!” She exclaimed, sounding like a child on Christmas morning. Felix barely had time to set his bag down before she got to him, pawing up and down to study the fabric. He briefly wondered how a woman who wore six inch heels could move with such speed and agility.

“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness! Is it my birthday? Are you really my son? What happened to your old clothes? I thought you were going to visit Marinette’s house!” She flicked the lights on to get a better look, and Felix squinted as his eyes adjusted.

“Yes, I’m really your son,” He replied firstly, taking a step away from her incessant touches, “And I did go to Marinette’s house. That’s why I needed new clothes.”

Bridgette frowned, both at his step away from her and his comment. “What happened to your old clothes? Did Claude spill something on them again?”

“You could say that Claude was the Catalyst, yes.” He grumbled, the memory of Claude’s mocking laughter flicking through his mind. 

“Well, where are your other clothes then? Should I call M. Bernarde over to clean them?” 

Felix shook his head and gestured to his bag on the floor. “No need. Mme Sabine has already taken care of it.”

“Mme Sabine?” Bridgette parroted curiously. She knelt down and flipped over the brown, leather flap to pull out the clothes.

“Ah. Marinette’s mother.” Felix explained. “She insisted that I refer to her as ‘Mme Sabine’.” 

A smile graced Bridgette’s lips as she stood, tucking Felix’s clothes in her arms. “That’s very sweet of her.”

Felix nodded and knelt down to grab his bag as well. “M. Tom and Mme Sabine both have an uncanny resemblance towards you when it comes to their behavior.”

“Oh?” Bridgette’s eyes narrowed with amusement. “So what I’m hearing is: Marinette’s parents are wonderful people.”

Felix chuckled, flashing her an indulgent smile. “Of course, Mother.”

Bridgette grinned and ruffled a hand through his hair. “I definitely raised you right. Do you want some tea? I can make some while you go change. I know that’s not your usual preference of clothing.”

Felix hummed at the offer, reaching up to touch his collar again. “Tea sounds nice, but I think I’ll keep the outfit.”

It was already ten o’clock at night. If he were to change into anything, it would be a pair of pajamas, and he wasn’t in the mood for that yet. There were still things that he needed to jot down in his notebook before settling down for the evening.

Bridgette’s eyes bulged out of her head. “You mean you actually like the outfit?”

Felix shrugged. “The clothes are comfortable. It might not be my usual attire, but it’s also not unbearable. Besides, going up to change now would only be a waste of energy.”

Bridgette placed a hand on her hip and breathed out an incredulous laugh. “If I had known that going to Marinette’s house was all it would take for you to break your ‘suits’ streak, I would have you sent you there ages ago.”

Felix playfully rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be happy that I dress well? Father’s quite pleased with it.”

Bridgette clicked her tongue, setting his clothes on the dining room table next to them to cross her arms. “Yes, that’s because your father is just as uptight as you are. You both need to loosen up a little.”

Felix chuckled. “Where is Father? I thought he was supposed to be home tonight.”

“He’s up in his study.” Bridgette answered, tilting her head towards the stairs. “There’s an important meeting at the bank tomorrow, and he wanted to prepare.”

Felix nodded. That was understandable. “What kind of tea are you going to make?”

Bridgette perked up at the reminder and spun on her heel to head towards the kitchen, her cream-colored dress flowing around her legs with the action. “I was thinking of Iron Goddess, but is there something different you might want?”

Felix shook his head as he followed behind her. “Iron Goddess sounds marvelous. I haven’t had that in a while.”

Bridgette moved to the stove and turned it on. Then she pulled out her flower-decorated kettle and set it on the burner. Felix stood next to her, quietly watching her pour the needed amount of water into the kettle. 

“So tell me how Claude managed to ruin your clothes for the twentieth time.” She said after a moment while handing Felix the dried, tea leaves.

Felix took the tea leaves and fished out a measuring spoon to scoop the accurate amount. “Twenty-second, actually, and I’m not entirely sure what happened.”

One moment, they were trying to put flour on the dough. The next moment, the flour was on them. Not the dough. He remembered everyone coughing up flour, and the white clouding his vision as the substance floated around the room. He remembered Claude laughing and Allan sighing in defeat when he finally got hit. Allegra had pinched the bridge of her nose at one point, undoubtedly asking herself what she would do with all of them.

Then he remembered Marinette’s face, flushed from embarrassment, as she scrambled to take the flour bag off of him, and her giddy smile, moments later, as she threw the bag onto Allan. 

“M. Tom was teaching us how to make croissants.” Felix said, starting at the first thing he could clearly recall. “When he left to deal with an unruly customer, Marinette attempted to take over the lesson. Unfortunately, she didn’t anticipate Claude’s tumultuous mannerisms.”

A laugh escaped Bridgette. “Can anyone truly prepare for Claude?”

Felix shook his head. “Not that I’ve seen.”

He tipped his measuring spoon into the infuser, letting the leaves fall into it. Then he reached across the stove and dropped the infuser into the kettle.

“Claude inevitably spilled a fourth of their flour bag onto himself and Allegra, and when Marinette went to fetch more for the rest of us, she tripped. I tried to catch her, but the flour bag was too heavy to handle. So we both ended up falling and getting covered as well.”

Bridgette snorted. “How chivalrous of you. It’s nice to know you’re fond enough of Marinette to try to help her when she needs it.”

“I didn’t do anything special.” Felix said, a twinge of irritation stirring in the back of his mind. She acted as though he let people fall in front of him on a regular basis. 

..of course, he did watch Claude land face first into the cement one day without so much as twitching. But in his defense, the brunette had been pushing Felix to the limit that day. He thought it only fair to let the boy suffer a little. 

“Anyone decent would have done the same thing.” Felix added, referring back to Marinette’s trip.

Bridgette nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true.. So you’re saying you’re not fond of her, then?”

“No, I-” Felix cut himself short, realizing what he was about to say. 

It’s not that he disliked Marinette. She was a kind-hearted person and, as of right now, hasn’t done anything to displease him. But for some reason, the word ‘fond’ sounded.. too strong. Too incriminating. 

His mother’s bubbly laughter broke him from his thoughts.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’m only teasing. I know you enjoy Marinette’s company.” She said, lightly tapping her fingers under his chin. The assurance didn’t appease Felix in the slightest. In fact, it only birthed a new form of discomfort. Why did the thought of enjoying Marinette’s company make him squirm? Wasn’t it normal to enjoy someone’s company once you were around them for a while? 

“So how did you get the new outfit?” Bridgette inquired next. “Did you have to stop baking and go on a last minute shopping spree?”

“No, Marinette had plenty of outfits.” Felix answered, gladly accepting the subject change. “It was quite impressive. She’d told us that she was a fashion major, but I didn’t realize that she was actually making clothes at this moment and time.”

“Wait, what?!” Bridgette blanched, her eyes blowing wide as she straightened. “You’re telling me that she made those clothes? The ones you’re wearing right now.”

Felix barely managed a nod before Bridgette swooped down to inspect his clothes all over again.

“You’re kidding!” She gasped, feeling over the seams and fabrics. “You didn’t tell me that she was a fashion designer! And a talented one, no less!”

“Didn’t I?” Felix replied, subtly leaning away from his mother.

Bridgette shook her head. “No, you didn’t! You’ve told me that she’s a new student who got in on a scholarship, that she lives in a bakery, that she’s clumsy, and that she’s somehow anxious and level-headed at the same time, but I’ve never heard about her aspirations towards being a fashion designer.”

“Huh..” Felix mumbled. The fact must have slipped his mind earlier. “Well, that’s how she attained the scholarship. She’s majoring in fashion. Claude, Allegra, and Allan all got outfits from her as well.”

“That’s incredible..” Bridgette muttered. “She must really be something.”

Felix nodded, being inclined to agree. No one got an early scholarship to Rosemary Highschool without having an immense amount of drive and talent. The clothes he wore now proved that.

A sharp whistle cut into their conversation, and Bridgette swiftly moved back to the stove to turn it off. She then grabbed two mugs from the counter- one deep green and one deep blue -and poured some of the scalding liquid from the kettle into both cups.

“So what happened after everyone changed?” She asked, getting back to the original topic.

“Nothing much.” Felix admitted. He took the dark green mug that Bridgette offered him with a ‘thanks’ before adding, “Marinette took our clothes to Mme Sabine for her to wash them, and the rest of the visit was spent playing video games or talking.”

“Did you play games as well?” 

An involuntary snort left Felix’s lips, and he shook his head. “Certainly not. I looked around Marinette’s room instead.”

“Oh?” His mother scooted closer to him with a sly smile, the same way she always did when she expected to hear something ‘juicy’. “Did you find anything interesting?”

The treasure chest of birthday gifts resurfaced in Felix’s mind, along with the card that he’d found.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” He lied. It wasn’t his place to disclose such things, especially when he hadn’t been told directly about them. Felix wanted to learn more about Marinette, not share her private life with the world. “She seems to have quite an obsession with the color pink, though.”

Bridgette laughed. “Really? How bad?”

“Well, it’s not as bad as your infatuation with sky blue,” Felix said light heartedly, “but it still covered almost everything in her room. I was shocked that her hand-made outfits weren’t all pink as well.”

Bridgette hummed. “You do need to have some variety in the fashion world. Otherwise your clothes will become bland and predictable.”

She took a small sip of her tea and sank against the counter, reveling in the warmth it provided. 

“So how do you think Marinette’s fairing in the group so far?” she asked after a moment.

Felix took a sip of his own tea as he mulled over his answer. “She certainly knows how to hold her own. Allegra and Claude have already pledged their loyalty to her, claiming that she’s family even though we’ve only known her a week.”

“You think they’re rushing things?”

“I think they’re impulsive and rash as always.” Felix shrugged. “Marinette can be a great asset to our group, but that’s hardly a reason to devote themselves to her.”

Intrigue flashed in Bridgette’s deep blue eyes. “So you think she can make the group better?”

“Currently, yes.” Felix responded. “The way she interacts with each of us brings a strange sense of balance to the group. She adds this splash of color that we’ve apparently been lacking.”

It’s something he’s noticed often in the past week. Marinette will listen intently to Claude’s stories and ideas, therefore sedating his chaotic atmosphere. She’ll compliment Allegra’s styles and discuss compelling topics with the blonde, easily satisfying the girl’s need to dig up controversy and drag it to light for the sake of a good argument. She’ll even share looks and teasing comments with Allan, praising him for his photography skills and giving him the constant validation that causes the boy to smile just a little bit more. Her routine of asking Felix’s opinion and actually taking it into consideration admittedly soothes his ever-rising temper as well.

In a way, she kept them grounded, and that was something that their group desperately needed if you asked him.

“Wow~” Bridgette sang, taking a long sip of her tea. “That’s a lot of praise coming from you, Felix.”

Something turned inside Felix’s chest at the comment, and his grip on his mug tightened. Why did he feel as though he had been caught for something? Nothing he said had been untrue. 

“I’m merely stating observations.”

“Of course.” Bridgette muttered into her cup, an air of amusement in her voice. “Observations.”

Felix narrowed his eyes at his mother. Her sly smile told him that she wasn’t quite agreeing with him in the way that she said. Almost like she was insinuating something or knew something that he didn’t. Bridgette was known for drawing irrational conclusions, though, so he didn’t dare ask what that something was. Felix simply took another sip of his tea and continued telling her the smaller details of his visit. 

~~~~~~

Evening in Paris, a time where the streets are empty and the lights are full. The city of love always had a way of illuminating the night sky with its abundance of lanterns and street lamps. Couples could often be found strolling along, enjoying the romantic atmosphere, but tonight, company was scarce. Only the occasional car divulged the fact that the drowsy town was not quite asleep. 

Chat Noir didn’t blame the civilians for staying inside. The frigid month of January was tolerable in the morning, but at night, the frosted winds had no mercy. He tugged up his scarf to compensate for the chill that nipped at his cheeks and nose, and although it did little to help, he continued skipping across the rooftops. Nathalie would be checking on him in roughly an hour to make sure he was asleep. That gave him roughly thirty to forty-five minutes to get to Marinette’s house, convince her to transfer back to Dupont, and get home. 

Well, he didn’t expect to convince her fully- Marinette can be extremely stubborn -but he could lay the groundwork. For example, if Chat Noir could figure out why she left, maybe Adrien would be able to fix it. 

The balcony came into view a few minutes later, and Chat Noir picked up the pace. Using his alter ego to snuff out information wasn’t something that he put to practice often, but all attempts to talk to Marinette as Adrien so far have failed, and he couldn’t wait for his schedule as a civilian to open again. 

His feet landed on the Dupain-Cheng rooftop, but the ice on top of it caused him to slip. He let out a yelp and threw his hands forward to claw for support. The high pitched whine that came from his gloves when they caught on the ice made him wince, but it was better than falling off the edge of the roof. He scrambled upwards to safety, blowing out a sigh of relief as he found Marinette’s window. That was close.

Now that he had steady footing, Chat Noir stole a peek into Marinette’s bedroom. The last time he came to her house uninvited, it was while she was sleeping, and that did not end well for him. Therefore, he’s started checking whether she’s ‘ready’ for him or not.

Marinette buzzed around her room, a bright smile on her lips as she gathered empty soda can, cups, and plates. Why were there so many drinks and plates? Did Marinette eat that much or did she have someone over earlier? If she did have someone over, then who would it be? Everyone at Dupont was still grumbling about her supposed misdeeds. Did someone finally come to their senses and apologize? 

Chat Noir perked up. This was great! If she’s reconciled with one of her old classmates, it would be that much easier to sway her in his direction.

Fueled by a fresh spark of hope, he climbed up to Marinette’s balcony. The coolness of the metal railing seeped through his gloved hands as he grabbed it, but he hardly cared as he swung himself over. His padded feet hit the wooden floorboards without a sound, and he knelt down to knock on the trapdoor.

“I can’t believe how much fun today was!”

His knuckles faltered in the air at the sound of Marinette’s voice. She sounded positively giddy, which was nice, but who was she talking to? He didn’t remember seeing anyone in the bedroom with her. Were they sitting outside his viewpoint? Should he come back later?

“When everyone got covered in flour, I thought the rest of the night was going to be horrible, but they looked like they had a good time.” Marinette continued, oblivious of her eavesdropper. 

Chat Noir frowned slightly. ‘Everyone’.. Did more than one person come over? How did they get covered in flour?

He shook his head and checked his baton for the time. 10:20pm. If he was going to talk to her, it needed to do it now. 

Tentatively, he knocked on the trapdoor, hoping beyond all hope that she was making a simple phone call. Marinette would be ticked if he came over, uninvited, while she had someone else visiting.

Her idle chatter immediately ceased, and Chat Noir shifted nervously on the floor. Please be alone. Please be alone.

His ears twitched to the sound of movements. Footsteps were making their way across the room. Then up the first ladder to the loft. Then up the second ladder to the balcony. Then-

Marinette pushed her way through the trapdoor, offering him a warm smile. “Hey, Chat! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around here. How have you been?”

Chat’s shoulders sagged in relief. It’s been forever since he’s seen that wonderful smile. “I’ve been okay. Mind if I come in?”

“Not at all.” Marinette held the trapdoor open long enough for Chat to grab it and started climbing back down the ladder. “I was just cleaning up from having my friends over.”

So she did have people over! 

“Which friends?” He asked, trying not to sound too eager as he climbed down the ladder behind her. Could it be Alya? They were best friends, after all. Or Nino? He was always skeptical of Lila’s tales. Oh! What if it was Nathaniel? Chat remembered the red-head having a soft spot for Marinette a while back. Or what about-

“My new friends from school!” Her enthusiastic reply shattered his hopes, and Chat Noir froze, the trapdoor rocking shut above him. She had.. new friends? Already? She’d only been gone a week or two..

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I transferred from Dupont to Rosemary!” She added, completely oblivious to the bomb that she’d just dropped on him. It shouldn’t surprise Chat that she had new friends, since Marinette was amazing, but..

“What about your old friends?” 

Marinette shrugged, dumping a few soda cans into the trash bag that lay in the corner of her room. “Oh, you know. Lila’s been rallying them against me for a few months now. I figured that wasn’t good for my mental health or my education, so I decided to leave.”

Guilt festered in the pit of his stomach, and Chat Noir cast his gaze to the side. He understood where she was coming from. Lila hadn’t been making life easy for her as of late. 

“Do you miss them?”

“Nope!” The answer was immediate and cheerful, and it shot a knife right through Chat’s heart.

“There’s not a single part of you that wants to go back?” He persisted. School had been difficult for her with Lila’s lies. He got that. But it still hurt to know that she was willing to throw them away like they hadn’t been friends for the better half of two years. 

Marinette shook her head, shoving the imagined knife deeper into his chest. “If they wanted me to stay, they should have treated me better.”

“What if they’re sorry?” He asked, probably faster than he should have. “What if they missed you and wanted you to come back? Wouldn’t you forgive them?”

Weren’t friends supposed to work things out? 

A sigh fell from her lips. “I don’t know, Chat. No one’s even apologized yet. Even if they did, I’m not sure that I’d want to go back?”

“Why not?” Chat all but yelled in exasperation. If everyone apologized, that would mean no one was upset with her anymore. The problem would be gone! So why would she want to stay away from them?

Marinette frowned at him. “If I go back to Dupont, it’ll only show them that their actions don’t have any real consequences. They need to learn that they can’t just treat people however they want.” 

Chat Noir didn’t respond, because what could he really say? She was right. He knew she was right. You can’t rage against someone day after day and expect them to take it. Even so, he couldn’t help wanting her back. They needed her. He needed her.

“Why are you so concerned about this anyway?” Marinette inquired, breaking him from his thoughts.

Chat Noir managed a sheepish smile. “N-No reason. I just don’t want you making any rash decisions is all.”

Marinette eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, I don’t think it’s rash to get out of a toxic situation, but why don’t we change the subject? Do you want to play games? I can bring up snacks if you plan on staying long.”

Chat Noir pulled out his baton to check the time. 10:40pm. Drat.

“Actually, I should get going.” He replied, slipping on an apologetic smile. “Patrol and all that.”

Marinette gave an understanding nod. “No problem. Thanks for stopping by.”

“Thanks for having me.” Chat Noir said with a small wave. He then clambered back up the ladder and pushed open the trapdoor. The freezing air hit him full force, but he didn’t have time to be skittish. Nathalie would be coming to check on him in twenty minutes, and that didn’t include the possibility of her coming to check on him early.

He shut the trapdoor behind him, making sure it was tightly closed. (Just because he had to get frostbite didn’t mean that Marinette had to) Then, Chat Noir swung himself over the railing, slid down the Dupain-Cheng’s rooftop, and started homeward.

He’d wanted to change Marinette’s mind about Dupont, but in the end, he was the one who had his mind changed. With Lila running about and spreading lies, it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to return. However, if his classmates were too.. say.. change their ways and learn to appreciate Marinette, she might be inclined to come back. All he had to do was convince them that Lila was a liar and that Marinette was an actual angel, and he would start with apologizing. What the school Marinette said she transferred to? Rosemary? Yeah, that’s it. Rosemary.. Wasn’t that the prestigious school for rich kids that Father almost sent him to? How did she manage to enroll there? He thought the tuition was supposed to be extremely expensive.

Chat Noir shook his head slightly. How she enrolled at that school didn’t matter. What mattered was that that’s where she’ll be most of the day from now on, and as soon as he got even a second of free time as Adrien, she will be the first person he sees.

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas

#Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids #New Girl on the Block #Rosemary AU #felinette #Marinette

[hanniiesuckle17]

Snow Covered Lashes

A/n:  so this is my first ever “collab” and I'm so excitteddddddddd! i hope you guys like this and enjoy! 

Tag List: @woodiegochile​ @mini-meanhoe​ @leggomylino​ @hanstagrams​ @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @jeonqqin​ @geminirules​ @crscendoforsung​ @mrsunshine999​ @jisungsjheekies​ @hannie-squirrel00​ @cotccotc​ @kodzu-ken​ @konenichi​ @yangs-jeongin​ @binniebutter​ @orangegyu​ @skzwriternet​

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary:  There's a common saying that whoever you connect eyes with during the first snow, you are destined to spend forever with.

A Christmas tree needs to be bought for your apartment and you have drawn the short straw. Sans your roommate you head out to a local Christmas tree farm to pick out the perfect Christmas tree to brighten up your home with holiday spirit. Fate may have a different plan for you. 

Genre: fluff, meet-cute, winter themed, stangers to lovers au

❅

The clunky door of your rundown car shut behind you as you exited the vehicle. Two weeks before Christmas and there was still no tree in your apartment. Days ago your roommate had promised to get one, but to no one’s surprise they didn’t follow through. 

After searching for an hour you finally found a Christmas tree farm that was still stocked and open. Before you even left the parking lot the sweet strong smell of the timber embraced you. Taking a deep breath you walked through the cold and to the entrance of the farm. The proprietor greeted you with a smile and welcomed you. 

The evergreen trees were propped up in rows creating almost a labyrinth to get lost in. The mulch crunched under your boots as you wandered between the tall giants. While you would love nothing more than to buy the biggest tree here and bring it home, none of these would fit in your small apartment without breaking through the ceiling. You were surprised to see so much greenery left in stock this close to the holidays. 

Ironically, you felt like Goldilocks searching through the rows for the tree that was just right. But, you were determined to leave with a tree even if you had to cut one down yourself. 

You brushed your fingers over the pointy fronds of a tree, trying to imagine it fitting in your living room. Each time you breathed in the brisk smell of the cold mixed with the branches settled in your chest. Each time you breathed out a puff of warm air escaped like a billowing cloud of smoke. 

“Remind me again why we have to get a real tree?” A deep voice said from the other end of the row. Turning, you found a group of four boys rounding the corner. The one with red hair responded.

“Because, it smells nice and there is no room to store a fake one.”

One of the older looking boys huffed, rolling his eyes. “Chan, it’s going to shed everywhere. There will be needles all over the practice room for weeks!” Your eyes fell on the tallest of the group. He was certainly one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. 

His brown hair, looked soft and blew gently in the winter wind. His long fingers shoved themselves into the tan coat he wore. A scarf was loosely wrapped around his neck and his nose was turning pink at the end. He reminded you of a puppy, long legs moving side to side to keep warm. 

“Seungmin, what are you looking at?” The deep voice asked. Shockingly, it came from the smallest boy, with a happy pixie-like face and freckles across his cheeks and almost white blonde hair. 

The handsome boy, Seungmin, had stopped moving and was staring down the row. Turning around, you attempted to find what he was looking at only to find nothing behind you. Was he looking at you?

Pulling your knit hat securely over your burning ears you shook your head and ventured down the next row. “You are here for a Christmas tree. Not attractive boys. Get your priorities straight.” You softly scolded yourself. 

“HEY! GIMME BACK MY HOT CHOCOLATE!” The deep voice shouted from  over the wall of trees. Minding your own business you continued your search and paid the rowdy boys no mind. 

A tap on your shoulder paused your quest for the perfect tree. “Ummm....hi,” Your eyes widened as you turned and found the tall boy behind you. Not only was his voice sweeter than you could ever imagine, but up close his features were even more striking. “You don’t know me....and this might be creepy or serial killer like.....but um...do you want some hot chocolate?”

Looking down, you saw a to-go cup in his hands. Steam rose from the small opening in the lid. You pointed to the vessel before looking up at the boys hopeful eyes.

“Had I not just heard the screaming complaint of your friend, yes that would be a very serial killer move on your part.”

Your fingers brushed over his as you took the cup from his hands. A nervous laugh left his lips and he brushed over the back of his neck. “Sorry, you just looked cold. Felix didn’t drink from it and to be honest, I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

The heat in your ears was returning and now spreading quickly to your cheeks. “I’m Y/n.” He smiled hearing your name and his grin grew bigger as you stuck out your hand for him to shake. 

“Seungmin.”

His long fingers wrapped around yours, sending a warm tingling feeling all the way up your arm. “Have you found a tree yet?” You questioned, beginning to walk down the row, Seungmin following very closely behind. You could practically feel his body heat right next to you. 

“Chan will probably pick the biggest one we can possibly fit in our practice room without us getting yelled at.”

“Practice room?”

“Oh,” Seungmin looked at his feet, a bright smile still on his lips. His hands were pushed deep into his coat pockets. “Um....I’m actually an idol. Those are some of my members back there.” 

Your brow quirked up and a mischevious smile played at the corner of your mouth. “Really? Prove it. Sing something for me!” Seungmin laughed and looked around before coming to the conclusion you were alone. He took a breath before a soft melody left his lips with a smile. 

“Last Christmas I gave you my heart. And the very next day you gave it away. This year to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special.”

The way Seungmin sang, felt like it was just for you. “Okay, I believe you.” It was your turn to look down at the ground in hopes of hiding the deep red flushing your cheeks. The singer leaned down to see your face, before standing back up and walking a few steps ahead of you. 

“You’re cute when you blush.”

Catching your lip between your teeth you shuffled to catch up to him, shoulder brushing up against his arm. Just as you were about to speak again, something cold floated down onto your nose. Halting your steps your eyes looked down, unintentionally crossing to see what had lighted upon your skin. Seungmin giggled at your cute expression and brushed away what you saw to be a snowflake.

“Snow?” You questioned, looking up at the sky. 

As if you said the magic word, hundreds of soft snow flurries drifted down from the sky. White flecks floated down to rest on Seungmin’s brown tresses. Your eyes locked and you couldn’t help but think that this was a sign from the universe that Seungmin was someone special to you. 

Hesitantly, the handsome boy raised his hand. “Close your eyes,” Smiling, you did as he asked and waited for what he was going to do next. A gentle touch on your eye lids surprised you, but you didn’t pull away. When the feeling retreated, you opened your eyes to find Seungmin with a shy smile on his face. 

“Sorry....you had snow on your eyelashes.”

You watched him stare timidly at the ground, which was slowly collecting snowflakes. “I thought you were going to kiss me,” You whispered before sipping on the warm sweet beverage.

“I wouldn't do that. Not unless you asked me to.”

“What if I asked you to?”

It was Seungmin’s turn to blush and he shyly adjusted the scarf around his neck. He stepped closer, clearly nervous. Your heart was beating faster at how cute he was being. The boy leaned down and softly pressed his lips to your cheek. If he had moved only a little, your lips would meet his. 

The two of you stood facing each other for a moment, both completely frozen from the innocent kiss that had just occurred. Both his and your cheeks were flaming red and you struggled to find any words. All you could do was smile and take another sip from the chocolate liquid confection. 

With an anxious laugh, Seungmin finally spoke. “So...uh...can I help you pick out a tree?” He asked as the snow around you continued to fall, catching on both of your forms. 

“If you let me take you out to lunch after.”

Seungmin looked up, pretending to think. A tight lipped, but genuine smile lay on his face. “That’s a tough deal. But, I think I’ll take it.” He lifted his hand from the warmth of his coat pocket and reached for your own. Your stomach did flips as his long slender fingers laced themselves with yours. “Let’s find you a Christmas tree!” 

❅

Masterlist

#skzwriternet #first snow collab #stray kids imagines #kim seungmin #kim seungmin imagines #seungmin imagines #kim seungmin imagine #kim seungmin angst #kim seungmin fluff #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin oneshot #kim seungmin au #kim seungmin au imagine #seungmin au #stray kids angst #stray kids scenario #stray kids #stray kids au imagine #stray kids au imagines #kim seungmin winter au #stray kids incorrect quotes #stray kids reactions #stray kids winter au #stray kids soulmate au #stray kids masterlist #kim seungmin strangers to lovers #stray kids requests #seungmin friends to lovers #rubber ducky you're the one #kpop imagines

[blu-joons]

Home Away From Home ~ Lee Minho

As you ended the call, you couldn’t help but let a tear roll down your cheek, quickly wiping it away as you watched your family disappear from the screen. Slowly, you closed your laptop down, placing it underneath your bed frame.

You pulled the duvet a little tighter around yourself as you tried hard to fight back the tears, feeling the material of your pillow dampen. Your first Christmas not at home with your family was always bound to be hard, but you never imagined just how hard it would be.

As he walked up the stairs to grab a jumper from his wardrobe, Minho could hear the sniffles coming from your bedroom. He stopped in front of the door, leaning up to it he could tell straight away that something was wrong.

Quietly, he opened up the bedroom door where he saw you curled up tightly under the duvet, his heart shattered as you continued to shuffle, unaware that he had even opened the door, let alone perched himself on the end of the bed.

His hand reached out and rested against your foot as you turned back to face him, wiping under your eyes, offering him a weak smile. His smile matched your own, wishing more than anything that he could make all your tears disappear.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say as he moved to sit further up the bed, “I know it’s hard for you being away from them, is there anything I can do.”

Your head shook, turning onto your side to be able to face him. “I can’t believe it’s Christmas tomorrow and here I am crying, you must think I’m a right idiot.”

“I would never think that,” he assured you, brushing his hand over the top of your head. “I understand how hard it is for you, I’d hate to be so far away from my family for the holidays.”

You’d spent plenty of time away from your family before to be with Minho, but this time just felt so different. “I promise, I’ll pull myself together in a minute and we can get back to celebrating.”

“Take all the time in the world, I’m not going anywhere. And who cares if it’s Christmas Eve, it’s not Christmas yet, so you’ve still got a couple more hours to let go of all your tears.”

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you up to lay against his chest. “I wish that I didn’t have to cry, I’m a grown adult, I should be used to spending time away from home and being in Korea, but it just feels strange.”

“Your first Christmas away from home was always bound to feel a little bit strange.”

His hands continued to massage through your hair as your tears began to subside, sniggering at the damp patch you’d left on Minho’s white tee, forgetting all about the jumper he had intended to come upstairs to grab.

He’d spent enough time away from home himself to know that it never got easier, especially on special occasions. Birthdays, weddings, festivals, it all still hurt for him even if it was something that he had been doing for a few years now.

“Why don’t we settle downstairs and try and distract you?” He suggested, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded, glancing up at him. “That would be good, but didn’t you have plans with the boys tonight, you can’t cancel on them now, it’s far too late.”

“It’s not too late at all, I’m sure they’d understand.”

He climbed back out from under the duvet, reminding you to come back downstairs whenever you felt ready too. After finally getting the jumper he needed to save himself from the winter chill he had back downstairs and straight into the kitchen.

Once your tears had dried, you sat yourself up, grabbing one of Minho’s shirts to replace your tear stained one. You could hear plenty of banging downstairs as you walked around the bedroom, tidying it all up a bit.

After sending a quick message to the group chat with his members in it letting them know he wouldn’t be able to make it, he began to raid the cupboards for all the things he knew would put the smile back on your face whilst you enjoyed a movie together.

Eventually, you made your way back downstairs, settling on the sofa for the movie whilst you let Minho continue causing whatever chaos it was that he was messing around doing in the kitchen.

A few minutes later he appeared in the room, a bag of chocolate was hanging in his mouth whilst his two hands carried mugs of hot chocolate covered with as many of the trimmings he could find around the house, marshmallows, whipped cream, whatever you liked he had endeavoured to find to make sure you were happy.

You smiled appreciatively as he placed them down on the coffee table, making himself comfortable by your side. Instinctively you laid into him, feeling his arm wrap tightly around your body, making sure that you were relaxed.

“Thank you for doing this, it all looks so cute,” you hummed.

In response, a kiss was pressed to the top of your head as he used his teeth to tear open the chocolate bag, placing it between you both. Somehow, he’d even managed to find a spare bag of your favourite chocolates, pulling out all of the stops to try and cheer you up.

You could never completely forget about not being with your family for Christmas, but Minho was doing the best job in making sure you tried not to worry too much. “How did you manage to get so many of my favourites so quickly?”

“I had my ways,” he chuckled, refusing to share his secrets. “I told you that I’d do whatever I could to try and make you happy. So, in saying that, I think it’s only fair that you pick the movie that will see us through to Christmas day.”

“Are you excited for Christmas? I know it’s our first one together in Korea, but you’re also away from your family, and that can’t be easy either.”

He’d spent many Christmases away from his family as a part of Stray Kids it never really phased him anymore, as well as that, he’d spent a long weekend at home just a couple of weeks ago to make up for not being able to be home at Christmas to spend it together.

“Of course. I get to spend it with you, how could I not get excited about that?”

“I just wondered, maybe I am overreacting a little bit.”

His head shook, pressing his hands to the side of your face to make sure that you were looking at him. It was impossible for you to overreact in such a situation, he knew exactly how you were feeling and sympathised entirely with you.

“Do you know how hard my first Christmas was away from home?” He asked, not expecting an answer. “I cried for most of the day that Chan ended up having to ring my mum to calm me down, it’s just like with anything else, it gets easier with time. I know how you’re feeling, I was the same, you’ve just got to find all the positives out of the situation, like being able to be here with me.”

You sniggered at his comment, poking against his hip. “I guess that is a pretty good reason for me to look forward to being here.”

“Exactly, and it might not seem like it yet, but it does get easier,” he assured you, kissing against your forehead delicately. “It’s just like the first day you moved out here to be with me, you were a mess, but you persevered and now you’re fine. We can ring your family when time zones match, and I promise that I’ll give you the best day ever to make sure that you still enjoy Christmas as much as you do every year.”

You settled your head against his chest, embracing the soft feel of the jumper that he wore. “Thank you for always being there for me, I’m really glad to be spending Christmas with you. I hope you know that Minho.”

“I do, and I’m glad that you’re here with me too. But if you don’t hurry up pick a film, there will be trouble,” he joked, brightening up the mood like he always did, “it’ll be bedtime before we get around to watching anything.”

“Let’s just stick on whatever, we probably won’t pay that much attention to it anyway.”

“Is it me or has Christmas come early,” he seductively whispered into your ear.

“I was thinking more about all this chocolate we have to eat, but whatever floats your boat babe.”

---

Masterlist

#stray kids #stray kids imagine #minho #lee minho #minho imagine #lee minho imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids reaction #stray kids drabble #stray kids one shot #stray kids fluff #lee know #lee know imagine #minho reaction #minho scenario #minho drabble #minho one shot #minho fluff #skz #skz imagine #kpop #kpop imagine

[mysmegrace]

Hi! I’d love a short fic of Zen with a shy yet bubbly MC in a Christmas Fake Dating scenario <33 Hopefully with some anxious pining and a love confession at the end if that’s okay! I’ve been musing over this sweet scenario for a pretty long time and wanted to make my small dream come true

hey hey hey~ (ew im sounding like my old math teacher lol). i'd love to write that for you! sorry this came out a little late, i've been offline and working on other things. i hope i did this justice! 

summary: GD entertainment, the company zen works with, is throwing a christmas party. giving many of the actors special benefits, one of which is a free 2021 computer model for people who had brought in their significant others. zen could really use the upgrade, hence why he asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the night. he also asked you because he had feelings for you and figured that tonight would be the perfect night.

topics: christmas time, pretending to date, love confessions, romantic pinning, fluff.

words: 2k

For the Night, Or a Lifetime - Zen x MC

---

"are you sure this is alright to do zen..? i mean, what if rumors start to spread or they think badly of us?" you responded briskly. you were worried this would take a hit to his career, not to mention your anxious thoughts building up around the fact that you may have to speak with his boss and co-workers.

when zen had initially showed up 15 minutes prior, you were dumbfounded. last time you had spoke to him on the messenger, he had told you about some work he needed to finish up. yet an hour later, he was at your front door asking for you to act as his girlfriend tomorrow for the companies christmas party.once he had explained why to clear up your confusion, you weren't sure how to react. of course you would like to help him, but what if things didn't go as planned? what if you ended up ruining the night? you weren't secure in your acting abilities either.

"it'd be fine, i promise. we'll just act like a normal couple throughout the night and no one will suspect a thing" you heard him say, breaking your train of thought. looking up to meet his gaze, you quickly broke eye contact to contemplate your next action.

you knew zen could use the new computer, you’ve seen how old his current one was. but the fear of denting his career wouldn’t go away. you look up to meet him again, looking for a sign of reassurance or dismay. 

god those puppy eyes you gave to you. how could you say no? giving it another minutes, you eventually give in, saying “alright, but if something starts to happen we have to come clean”.

a breath he was unaware of holding came free as he heard your confirmation. a weight had been lifted off his shoulders because unbeknownst to you, he was planning to come clean about his feelings for you tomorrow night. so far, the plan was going just the way he was hoping for. 

“thank you babe, i’ll repay you back for this one day!” he said, giving his gratitude. “i’ll call when i come to pick you up” he adds, before turning to leave. it had already gotten late and he knew better than to stay with you for any longer while the moon was tempting him. no, that stuff would have to wait until the time was right.

watching as he left, the click of the door confirming it, your mind had completely gone blank on you. did that really just happen, you thought. you could hardly contain your excitement once he proposed the plan.

but you knew how the industry and his fans were. sure many were great, but many also say zen as a trophy they could reserve to themselves. a romantic partner could damage his career as allegations and opinions started floating around.

at the same time, it was difficult to hide. you had felt something for him that was so unfamiliar to you. something you could only identify as love. but what if he didn’t feel this same? what if...

enough, you told yourself. it was too late to get emotional and curious about what might happen. perhaps it would be better to rest and let your mind heal it’s anxiety for the time being. so that you did, drifting off while fantasying about the future, though you would never admit that.

a knock at the door caught your attention, allowing you to briefly look up from your phone. the sky had changed as christmas had arrived. everything was ready for your night as you had prepared once he had alerted you of his travel. 

opening the door, you gave a smile to greet him. one he returned promptly, pulling you into a friendly embrace. your heart skipped a beat, so anxious that you might do something he wouldn’t like. your body wouldn’t even offer you peace of mind to enjoy the closeness.

eventually letting go, you pulled your jacket on in a swift motion as you followed zen’s footsteps. being led to his motorcycle, a helmet was presented to you. “don’t worry, i’ll be safe. can’t damage precious cargo” he reassured you. 

god, was he trying to embarrass you, you thought as you felt yourself heating up. slowly gathering the courage to meet his eyesight again, you found him with a grin plastered across his lower face.

the nerve, though you’d have to let it slide for now. hoping on the ride, you heard the engine rear up as you went on your. wind hitting your face from all angles, moving your hair in whichever way it desired. 

pulling up to the event, you fixed your hair the best you could with your fingers with little time to spare. feeling your hand being grabbed, you looked towards zen, expressing a confident smile. in reality, you couldn’t believe what you had gotten yourself into.

taking the lead, zen greeted the people at the entrance in a polite yet swift manner. in your luck, they managed to find the time to question zen about your role to him. “she’s my girlfriend” he answered, before gesturing for the two of you to walk in.

the room was full of traditional christmas decorations with the occasional piece related to acting and performance. you quite liked it if you were honest. your attention was quickly redirected to the co-worker approaching the two of you.

oh no, you thought. what would you say to leave a good impression for zen and yourself as a pretend couple? remembering zen’s past words of advice, being confident and positive, you decided to adopt that attitude for the remainder of the evening.

“hyun, who’s this?” the person asked, leaving an eyebrow subtly raised. zen flashed a quick glance at you before responding “ah, she’s my girlfriend”. now was your time to shine. don’t mess this up, you told yourself.

“hello~ i’m mc. gorgeous event right?” you said with the nicest expression you could muster up. now you were left to hope you didn’t come across as too obnoxious or nervous.

“hello mc, pleasure to meet you” the co-worker greeted, reaching out a hand in your direction. slightly taken aback, you met his hand as you were involved in the handshake. that wasn’t so bad, right? maybe tonight would be easier than expected.

leading you to make a mental note of the three things you wanted to portray yourself as this evening. that being energetic, respectful, and adding in a tad of humor.

this formula seemed to be going well. an hour had already passed and nobody seemed to have a problem with you, openly at least. yet things started going down hill when you had a couple down further in the area whisper “things aren’t adding up with those two”.

a males voice added onto that, saying “i doubt they’re a real couple. look at them, neither one of them has shown the other any form of affection since they’ve gotten here”. you couldn’t find the words to say as you stood in slight horror.

how were they able to catch on? you thought you were doing good all night, making the environment relaxed and laid back. little to your knowledge, zen had heard the couple as well.

without giving it much thought, he knew he had to prove their thoughts wrong. hence why you suddenly felt yourself taken by the hands, pinned against the wall behind you. looking up in shock, you were met with zen’s face going in a kiss. of course, you couldn’t push him away. 

kissing him back, he found himself not wanting to stop. his rational mind took over quickly, pulling away. staring at you face to face, you could read the shock in his eyes. as if he was surprised by his actions. 

shock was something evident in your mind at the time too. you didn’t know what to think, what to feel. too many emotions were present for you to ever make sense of.

releasing your hands, he subtly went back to your side the same way he was before. almost as if it didn’t happen. yet you promptly heard his voice whisper “can we talk about this later?”.

without giving it much thought, you nodded in reply. you had so many new things to think about, you needed time. but in a good turn of events, the couple were no longer questioning your relationship status.

time passed in a slow motion, though reality reminded you that only an hour had passed once you looked at the clock. people were beginning to say their goodbyes, being given many gifts by the hosts. you and zen included as the computer was given for your leave.

returning to the motorcycle, you put on your helmet once again, as did zen. he would drive as you held onto the gifts in the back. this time, the wind wasn’t a bother to you. it had cooled off the heat from your face, deriving from the sudden actions of zen.

reaching your apartment complex, you got off the vehicle. looking nowhere but down as your feet carried you to your apartment, zen following behind you. as soon as your entered the familiar room, the fatigue from todays events had caught up to you.

now you were left with zen to discuss all that occurred. yet it took you a second to collect yourself for the conversation. you had no idea where this would go, you only hoped it would result in something good.

you heard the males voice begin to speak, “i’m sorry about doing that tonight, i should’ve asked first. i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”. your thoughts paused for a quick second as something new entered. you didn’t want him to feel bad about anything, he didn’t deserve it.

“no no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, i enjoyed it to be honest” you replied in a haste. your face changed as you really started to take in what you had just told him. you hadn’t meant to let that last part slide.

on second thought, perhaps it was a good thing to get it out there. you couldn’t hide your feelings forever. now it was zen’s time to become a visible shade of pink. were you serious...?

god that made him so happy. the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable and hate him. worried thoughts filled his head for a split second before you came in to save this sanity, as you always did.

“i’m.. glad to hear that. i was worried you would be upset. look, i have something to confess” he started, deciding now was the time. he observed as your eyes became a tad bit bigger as your mouth opened slightly in a curious form.

continuing, he said “i’ve had feelings for you ever since you joined the rfa. i couldn’t understand them at first, thinking i was juust lonely and desperate. but as time goes on, i can understand why”.

“mc, you’ve made my life change for the better. i can’t imagine life without you. so, will you go out with me? we don’t have to play pretend anymore” he finishes, lightening up the mood ever so slightly during the end. 

to say you were ecstatic was an understatement. finally your prayers were being answered. you could feel as your cheeks flushed before you gave your answer.

“yes, of course i will” you responded softly, as if speaking any louder would make this go away. standing in comfortable silence, zen was content with your answer. offering his gorgeous smile for your eyes only.

“thank you, ha you’ve gotten me so stocked. i have to prepare for practice so i’ll see you tomorrow.” he says, the tone of his voice raising noticeably. you give him a nod of approval, but become flustered at the words he said before leaving through the door.

“merry christmas, sleep well love” he sang out, before closing the door behind him. how did he expect you to sleep once he’s gotten you all worked up, you thought. giggling to yourself, you felt as the fatigue became even more present now that you were home.

laying down to rest, you were grateful for the best christmas gift you had received this year. the one that would be stuck with you for a long, long time.

---

15:43 AST - 07/28/21

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme zen #mysme fanfic #zen #zen x mc #hyun ryu

[mysteriesofmarcy]

🎄 Have Yourself a Froggy Little Christmas 🎄

If you are like the Plantars and confused on the meaning of Christmas, you're not alone. No one in this episode got it right. Dr. Jan told us about some of the Christmas traditions, but even she neglected to mention that Christmas is the celebration of the greatest gift ever given: the life and sacrifice of Jesus.

Anyway, now that your existential crisis is solved, let's break down what this episode does for us and our characters.

This episode felt a lot like The Shut-In because it was a one-off mid-season holiday special, but it also reminded me a lot of Hop Luck because Anne and the Plantars were on a quest to collect the "ingredients" for the creation she wanted to make for the event at the end of the episode.

According to Triple B, Christmas takes place in what is late winter in Amphibia, proving that Amphibia and Earth definitely have different calendars. (Although, if Marcy told the newts about Christmas while she was there, and it's been less than a year since the series began, this implies that Marcy told the newts that Christmas is in late winter.) It also casts a new light on the timeline of the show from the Amphibian perspective, something I will get to in a future post.

I love how this episode brings back a lot of characters and elements we've met in the previous episodes, including the IT Gals, Dr. Jan, the Boonchuys' Thai friends, even some of the floats: Construct-a-Carnivore (Polly's challenge from Hop Till You Drop), the Mexican restaurant that Anne took Sprig to for his birthday, . The IT Gals described how they celebrate Christmas. Dr. Jan talked about the history of the holiday and a few of the pagan festivals that inspired some of our traditions. Their Thai friends helped with the float. And Construct-a-Carnivore had a float in the parade.

The best part of this episode is the visuals. The decorations. The Boonchuy house is decorated like a normal house during Christmas season. The IT Gals' party has "college" written all over it. The museum is decorated for both Christmas and Hanukkah. (Side note: I've learned more about Hanukkah from watching cartoon Christmas specials than I ever wanted to know.) Even the theme song is decorated, and I appreciate that shows are getting more creative with their opening and closing credits recently.

Now, if Amphibia thought it could sneak a Gravity Falls reference by me, they have another thing coming! When Sprig is looking for the perfect gift for Anne, he declares that "It's all garbage!" when looking at a painting of a sad clown, painted by a man who only paints sad clowns. Clearly this man is Thomas Conkelly, aka Stan's favorite artist (mentioned in this interview).

Because my stream decided to buffer a ton when it came back from the second commercial, I saw a billboard for a movie called "A Hunky Lumberjack for Christmas". In the bottom left corner it's labeled, as I suspected, a Hallmark movie. Maybe we'll see more of it in the future, maybe not.

Here's something I almost forgot about: that was a brilliant idea of Andrias's to take control of the "red suited jolly man with a beard," and then, just when you thought it couldn't get better, he turned St. Nick into a killer robot.

Next: another translation. When Andrias hacks into the Santa robot, his glasses say "READY TO ROCK!" in Amphibian.

I guess I'll finish by talking about the song. I liked how it was spread out through the whole episode. I liked how it didn't try to say anything other than "Christmas is a special time of year." I liked how the lyrics referenced lots of different Christmas traditions. And I was never a fan of Steven Universe, but I do think Rebecca has a great voice for this song.

And -- awwww, Anne has Sprig's gift on her desk as she writes her letter! I noticed that it looks very similar to his dolls action figures from Flood, Sweat and Tears, indicating that he probably crafted all of them himself. I guess this is really where the only revelation of this episode comes in: that Sasha's parents are (probably) divorced. Not that we couldn't have guessed that already, but still.

So overall, several fun observations, but not much to analyze here. This was a fun one-off holiday special to close out this batch of episodes. According to the wiki, the mid-season finale was originally supposed to be a future episode, so the excrement is about to collide with the rotating oscillator, so to speak.

Remember, if you have any further questions about this episode or the true meaning of Christmas, feel free to send me a message or an ask. I can't guarantee that I'll have all the answers, but what I can guarantee is that I will do my best!

#amphibia #amphibia season 3 #froggy little christmas #merry Christmas 🎄

[guessimwritingficsagain]

To been seen, part Four (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Summary : You get a text. You freak out.

Author’s note : I am very very soft for Frankie.

Also, I have a few days off and I thought I have been really self-indulgent so : the cheese gift really happened to me (best birthday ever, he got me a Mont d'Or because he knew I had planned on eating one with my best friend to celebrate), the Edward Scissorchands movie thing really happened to me, and the "date" with the grandma too. In France, the Opera is often showed in movie theaters. When I was a teenager, I thought it was quite the event, though. So I got invited. Next thing we saw together with that guy was the movie Black Swan and I made sure someone was tagged along.

The holidays came and went in a blur of laughter, hot chocolate was big sweaters. You were happy. And Jessie was happy too. January came, and went, too. Everything was slow. So you watched the movie you’d bought, and a bunch of others too.

February was over before you knew it, and when March warmed up the air, you found yourself, one morning, looking at the screen of your phone like the message would disappear if you blinked. You turned your eyes to the cupboard that contained the empty box of chocolate that sat there, hidden from the sniggering remarks of Linda, and looked back at the screen. The text message was still there. You put the phone down, abruptly, fingers tingling and burning and went to get a glass of water. Your eyes landed on the bottle of wine, still unopened, and you almost spilled your drink. You went back to your phone in a hurry, opened the chat you shared with your friends and sent

Who the fuck gave Francisco fucking Morales my phone number ?????

You waited, breathing hard, hoping anyone would answer. Nothing came, not right away. Phone on the table again, you slumped on the couch, nervous breakdown on its way. You couldn’t do it, there was no way you could do that, you couldn’t, that would kill you, you wouldn’t survive this.

Time floated for a while, up until your phone vibrated and you jumped. You’d been so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed everyone had answer, Anna, Jessie and Linda with a simple « not me » but James …

James had sent a

Go get some

And an eggplant emoji.

James, then.

Okay.

Okay.

You were fine. You could answer a text. You knew the drill, by now. You knew how to pretend you were not freaking out every time Frankie did something unexpected and kind, like that time he offered you chocolate and a bottle of wine for Christmas. You had coping mechanisms, now, to hide the fact you had a doctorate in yearning.

You’d replayed the Christmas Scene so many times in your head you sometimes thought you made it up, but the reminders were there, in your flat.

You’re replaying it now.

You’re getting out of your car, with ten minutes to spare before work starts. It’s almost six. You spot Frankie’s truck on the parking lot and you’re a bit surprised but mostly delighted, even more so when you see the man himself jogging towards you. It takes you a minute to see he’s holding presents. By the time he gets to you, you’re confused. He smiles a breathy hello before handing you what he’s got in his hands. You stare at the neatly wrapped packages for a bit, like the dumbass you are, unable to put two and two together. Maybe it’s for Clara ?

It must be for Clara.

You take them. Say thank you. And Frankie answers :

« Open them. »

Your braincells must have left the building like God in Supernatural, gone off to do the Macarena dance somewhere very far away because all you can answer is what and you know you sound like a dumbass and you feel like one too.

The lack of reaction is getting to Frankie, you can tell, because he’s rubbing the back of his neck and you feel bad that he’s embarrassed so you say :

« You got me presents ? »

Well, except you don’t really say it. More squeal it. Or shriek it. You’re not sure. It feels like a repeat of that moment a boy you’d liked but never made a move on offered you fucking cheese on your birthday and was all embarrassed about it and you didn’t know what to do or say because his birthday had been a few days before yours and you didn’t get him anything.

You add, for good measure, because why the hell not :

« But I didn’t get you anything. »

Like maybe he’s going to take them back, or maybe the moment is going to rewind except you don’t want it to rewind because Frankie has gifts for you, just for you.

Maybe he got something for Jessie and Anna, too ? You wonder. And Linda. You know he goes there to buy books. Maybe he showed up and got her some stuff. Not books, you hope. Stupid to buy books to a bookseller.

All of this goes through your mind and in the meanwhile Frankie’s waiting and when you finally put your bag down on the hood of your car to carefully open the first present, your body finally moving, you don’t miss the sigh of relief that escapes Frankie. It’s a box of chocolate, a fancy one at that. You recognize the brand. You hold it for a while, before you set it down with your bag and say thank you in a voice that’s way too small. You open the second one, then. Wine. White wine. Wine that you actually love. Your favorite. You wonder how he knows that.

You’re holding the bottle the way he’s holding his breath : tight. You lift your eyes to meet his and you can tell he’s embarrassed and a bit blushing. He rearranges the cap on his head and announces :

« Merry Christmas. »

You say it back, smile so big your cheeks hurt because Frankie got you presents for Christmas. You put the bottle with the rest of your stuff and then, on a whim, you throw yourself at him for a hug. He closes his arms around you, and one hand comes up right between your shoulder-blades, his thumb just here, sitting on the back of your neck, skin against skin and maybe you’re dead and in heaven right now.

You stay like this way too long and at some point you mumble against his shoulder that you really didn’t get him anything.

« It’s fine », he answers as he lets go, hands squeezing your side briefly.

You get into work late.

And now, you got a text. You opened it, read it again.

Maybe you could do this. Maybe you could take it to the next level. After all, you’d became closer to the boys over the last two months. Santi could have sent you that text, right ? That text didn’t have the word date in it. Maybe you were friends now. Frankie’d gotten you Christmas presents, after all.

So you read the words again, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you sent a yeah, sure, I’m in !

Your eyes went over his message once again, just to make sure the words would be burnt into your brain.

Hey, it’s Frankie. I know Friday’s your day off this week. I got two tickets to that new Marvel movie and one with your name on it. You in ?

You could spend two hours in a dark room with Francisco Morales right next to you. No problem. None at all.

———

He’d picked a screening that ended around seven. Your mind supplied just in time for dinner, and you kicked the two remaining braincells you had. You’d decided to drive there separately and were now sitting next to each other, you explaining the Marvel timeline and him listening intently. You were a nerd, but, him, not as much. You didn’t try to think too hard about the fact that he was doing this for you, because he was not as much into comics or movies as you were.

The whole thing was pleasant and relaxed.

This was not a date, you reminded yourself.

You got dinner after that, dissecting the movie as you ate - nothing fancy, but it was nice. The conversation shifted, at some point.

« Yeah, I get what you mean : movies are not the place to make a move. Especially when there’s a hot guy on the screen. I mean, what chance do you get when you’re watching a movie and Oscar Isaac is right there ? » Frankie laughed.

You nodded, getting another sip of your drink, and, as an afterthought, added :

« You know, Santi kinda looks like Oscar Isaac … »

Frankie grunted :

« Never, ever, tell him that. »

You promised you wouldn’t. After that, the two of you told each other stories about your worst dates, and you remembered :

« You know, when I was younger, before I met James, I hung out with a bunch of guys. I was like, fourteen, and they were sort of … beginning to understand I was a girl, you know. There was this guy, a good friend of mine, who actually told this other guy we weren’t going to see a movie. I remember, it was a special screening of Edward Scissorshands. So, my other friend never showed up and the guy told me he couldn’t make it. »

« Let me guess, the other guy told you later he thought you weren’t going ? »

You laughed.

« Yeah, basically. And then this guy I went to see the movie with invited me to a really fancy thing. It was a Wednesday afternoon, I remember. We got lunch. I didn’t pay for anything because he’d invited to come along with him and his grandma. Let me tell you : after that, I made sure to always have someone with us when he invited me somewhere. »

Frankie’s laugh was something you’d never grew tired of, you knew that.

———

Months went on, like that, with you and Frankie hanging out to see movies, and everybody showing up for Benny’s fight when you could (Jessie and you had to keep James updated, those nights, because he’d gone back to Washington after new year’s eve but wanted to know everything). Jessie had started dating a guy, at some point, and you didn’t find him that great but Will hated him.

« When are you gonna make a move ? » You asked, one evening as you were sipping beers with him at his place.

« When she doesn’t have a boyfriend dull as dishwater » He answered without missing a beat.

You knew this was the moment, then. You had two options : say nothing and let things be, or say something and get those idiots together. You thought hard, about the phrasing of your next sentence, and settled with :

« For you, she’d dump him. »

Will froze at that, just for a second, and quipped back :

« I’ll make a move when you make a move on ‘Fish. »

So that conversation was happening. You’d hoped none of the guys had noticed but obviously, at least one of them had. And you knew, by now, that his ex-wife had left him, had left Maria too. You knew he was available. You sputtered a bit and Will, kind Will, let it be. You enjoyed a nice evening with him, not once wondering why he sought you out, because Will and you didn’t hang out.

The answer came a few days later, with a simple text from Frankie.

Come over please

———

« I need you to take care of Maria », Frankie said as he opened the door. He looked really tired, like he hadn’t slept in days.

Please, he added, begging but you didn’t quite understand what he was begging for.

You complied, never stopping to think that this was the first time you saw Maria, never stopping to think about what might be possibly happening, even as Frankie went to his room, muttering apologies. It hit you when you put the girl to bed, and you remembered Frankie and the way he’d been looking at you that day, when he’d asked if they could throw a birthday party for their late friend’s daughter.

It was around that time, last year.

You walked hesitantly towards Frankie’s bedroom and stared at the white paint in it for a while. You were nervous, and actually turned around to smoke a cigarette outside, the air a bit too chilly for you, but cold enough to wake you up and give you the strength to walk to Frankie’s bedroom and knock.

So you did it.

He didn’t answer, but, feeling bold - or rather, feeling like you needed to do it - you opened the door anyway. The room was almost dark, the moonlight giving you an idea that Frankie was curled up, on his side. You put a hand on his shoulder. He put his on top of yours. You chose - you chose - to take it at a silent invitation, lifted the covers, and got, fully dressed, right next to him. Because friends do that.

———

When you woke up, he was staring at you. While your brain tried to make sense of the situation, you asked, voice heavy with sleep :

« What time is it ? »

Seven, Frankie answered. Maria’s gonna wake up soon, he added. You were too tired to say anything else, because when you’d laid down next to him you’d felt like your heart had been about to burst so you’d just listened to him, his breath steadying as he’d got to sleep. You’d finally got to sleep too, but it was too damn early for you.

Later, you’d blame what happened on your foggy brain : you snuggled closer, and Frankie let you. Then, it hit you. At that moment, right next to him, it hit you : you were not friends with him. You were pretending to be, but you were not and never would.

You couldn’t.

You wanted to wake up everyday like that, to Frankie telling you it’s seven, Maria’s gonna be awake soon. You wanted everything and friends just wouldn’t cut it.

Two things happened at once, then : you were realizing how much you liked - loved - Frankie when he gently took one of your forearm and brought it to his lips. All of the feelings hit home just as he was kissing the soft skin on your wrist and you froze.

He saw it and let go immediately, muttering apologies, while you were still processing what you felt about him. When you reached to grab him, to tell him how good that was and how wanted him to do it again, it was already too late.

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales #triple frontier #Pedro Pascal x reader

[iwantitiwriteit]

Love Lockdown - Part 5

Back to December - Part 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: In the December prior to the pandemic, you spend Christmas with Chris in Boston, a first time meeting between you and his extended family. You struggle with implications of seriousness this milestone has on your relationship with Chris.

Warnings: Angst, Pandemic backdrop, Profanity, healthy dose of Fluff, sprinkle of Sexual suggestiveness

Notes: So much was really working against me getting this up for y’all lol, but nothing worth having comes easy, right? Anyways, tried some new stuff I learned in some articles I read, more showing, less telling. Allusions and metaphors. We’ll see how it comes across. Christmas in October anyone? Read the previous part here!

The ding DONG of the doorbell echoes so exaggeratedly, it had to have been your imagination. No, I’m really here now. With your blood pumping loudly in your ears, you stare straight ahead at the barrier to entry,  and seemingly to your happy future. 

A Christmas-covered front door shouldn’t cause you this much stress, but here you were, feeling mocked by smiling snowmen and delicate, origami snowflakes. 

You try to focus instead on one of the many thoughts flurrying your mind.

What if they hate me? Valid question, but sooo not the vibe right now. You go for another.

What if I hate THEM? Nice. None of these thoughts are stilling your rapidly beating heart.

“Ow! Loosen up the vice grip, will ya?”

“Oh,” you look down at where yours and Chris’ glove-clad hands are joined, releasing them almost instantly. “I’m sor—“

“It’s alright, babe,” Chris chuckles. As if you could muster a strength close enough to hurt this man. He’s sure not to let your hand get too far, taking it back into his and bringing it up to his rosy lips for a chaste kiss. 

You wish you could feel it, the warmth of his lips on your knuckles, but that would mean braving the Boston blitz without a piece of your knit armour. You’re not sure you’re ready for that. You’re also not sure how he does it. He’s wearing significantly less layers than you, yet he’s perfectly content as if it’s a Summer’s day, while you are, quite literally, quaking in your boots.

He notices your shivering shoulders, knows it’s not just the cold getting to you. With his right hand in your left, and his left hand wrapped around a gift, he nudges you with his words. 

“Hey,” he starts, but sees the opulent wreath on the door still has your attention. “Hey you,” he tries again. You finally look up at him. You lock your widened eyes with his ocean calm ones as he scans your face. Your brows could almost touch with how deeply furrowed you have them and your lips are fixed in a tight line.

“Typically it takes a lot to get my girl all nervous and whatnot,” he states, but you knew it was more of a question of what's up with you.

“Yeah, well… I’m not nervous, Chris.”

“Really? Cos the bruise on my hand would say otherwise,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes at him trying not to laugh. “Even if I was nervous, which I’m not, could you blame me? This is a lot. This is big. This... This is your family.” Your features soften and voice drops in volume. “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“Impossible.”

“You sure? Think I already did by taking this long,” you mumbled. You look away, unable to hold Chris' intense gaze anymore. Being in front of his childhood home, for the first time since you’ve started dating over 2 years ago, you can’t help but feel… guilty. 

No use in taking the conversation there at this moment. Especially knowing that lately it led to some sort of shouting match. The ‘I can’t’s’ and ‘next time’s’ didn’t suffice anymore. 

Chris only responds with a sigh as he rings the doorbell for the second time. He looks back over to you, a snowflake floating then landing on your lash. You’re unaware of how whimsical you look to him. How well you’re going to fit in with his family and friends. 

He takes his thumb to brush the snowflake off and cup your cheek. Watching as you swallow thickly, Chris moves his thumb to your throat to massage away the lump you try to move on your own. You relax into his touch, and he flicks his eyes down to your gently smiling lips then back up to your eyes. You know what he’s silently asking. Placing your hand on his wrist was your silent answer. He leans in slowly, and you wish you could stay like this, just for a little while longer. But all good things...

“Uncle Chris!” a youthful voice exclaims as the door swings open. Chris swiftly removes his suggestive hand from your neck and himself from your personal space. He prays there’s some mistletoe hanging inside.

“Hey Kiddo!” Chris huffs out as he picks the child up, replacing her spot on the floor with the present in his hand. She goes to wrap her small arms around his neck as he asks her, “Did you grow since just last night?”

“No!” She giggles as he pinches her cheeks. “I missed you Uncle Chris! You weren’t here when we woke up,” his niece pouts. You look at Chris to see him with matching puppy dog eyes and poked out lip. 

“Oh, Kiddo, I’m sorry. I--”

“It’s ok,” she cut him off, causing you to chuckle at her brashness, “I saved the gift from you and your special friend to open last!”

“Well, speaking of...” Chris pulls you in closer to him by your hand, “This is her! I went to get her from the airport,” he beams down at you. The little cutie in Chris’ arm has turned more shy when speaking to you as you exchange names and a quaint handshake. 

In a not-so-quiet whisper, she tells Chris, “She’s really pretty. Good job,” with an added thumbs-up and shoulder pat. You can’t fight your giggle and the heat that rises to your face, and Chris can’t fight the laughter that erupts from himself.

Chris is joined in a chorus of laughter, the foyer now filled with Evans’ of all ages, tickled by one of their youngest and no doubt happy that Chris is home… and brought company. This is it… you think.

It’d been a long while since you’d ‘met the family’, having not made it that far with the relationships leading up to this one with Chris. You wonder if it’s like riding a bike, or if you should’ve read an article on how to during your last minute flight.

In the crowd of smiling Evans’, you spot Chris’ mom and brother. You’ve met them on numerous occasions, all in L.A., and know them pretty well. However, everyone else you knew from a picture, a story or would be meeting for the first time this afternoon. There was going to be a lot of meeting, greeting, questioning, explaining… 

You steel yourself for the day ahead. Chris looks at you and gives you a reassuring smile and squeeze on your hand. You reciprocate, tension releasing only the slightest as you look at his sunny face, your reminder of why this must go well.

——————————————————————————

The first couple hours you were sure would be the hardest. It was a time of first impressions, and you only get one of those. Tasked with making the rounds to about 30 or so aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, in-laws, childhood this and that, Chris wanted to make sure you met every. Single. Body. And as soon possible.

“That way, we get you comfortable faster!” He rejoiced. Chris’ excitement was always infectious so you try to let wash over and enthuse you. 

You lost count of how many times you fake laughed at ‘Chris has finally brought you home! We were starting to think you weren’t real!’. But with Chris by your side, the worn out joke was just bearable. He found new ways to respond each time, no doubt to at least keep you entertained. ‘Who do you owe money, then?’ or ‘When you find a treasure, you try to keep it to yourself as long as possible *wink*’ or ‘She’s not even here… she’s a hallucination’ never failed to make you laugh or make your cheeks burn.

It’s actually really endearing to know that there was some anticipation for your arrival. Unbeknownst to you, Chris had been hyping you up to his family. Telling them your accomplishments and aspirations in your writing career, which apparently impressed them. He told them your hobbies and other passions that sparked conversations about their own, and prompted advice on your life trajectory. 

All in all, breaking the ice was more delightful than you thought it would be, and hoped that by sticking by Chris’ side the rest of the day would go in that way. But the universe had other plans.

At one point, you get whisked away to the kitchen by Chris’ mom, Lisa, under the guise of needing help with some dishes for dinner. You quickly realize that it's a set-up of sorts, with most of the women of the Evans family gathered around the island putting finishing touches on their dishes and slyly sipping spiked eggnog. These are the people who you feel you have to impress.

Their chatter and laughter came to a halt as they eyed you cautiously crossing the kitchen to the spot Lisa designated you. It was only a matter of time before the interrogation began.

“So… we’ll cut straight to the chase: why is it we’re just now meeting you? You’ve been with our Chris how long now?”

“Vicky!” Lisa smacks her arm warningly. “Have you no filter? You’ll scare the poor girl off before dinner!”

Chris has told you about his infamous Aunt Vicky. “A true cream puff; soft and sweet… once you get past the tough outside,” you remember him telling you.

“It’s fine,” you start, not willing to cower from the inquiry, “Chris and I have been together 2-½ years— 3 in June. And we’ve been happily taking things slow.”

“Good on you for taking things slow. Most women would— and do— jump at the chance to lock down our Chris. But not you, you’re a woman with her own sense of self. We like that,” you’re affirmed with a wink.

Whew.

“You are as pretty as our kid spy said; thought she was exaggerating.”

“Um thank you…?”

“She’s pretty, but can she cook?”

“Carole!” Lisa warns another woman and apologizes to you with her eyes. Chris also told you about his aunt Carole, Vicky’s ‘side kick’. The two of them made for a dubious duo.

“Yeah, what’s Chris’ favorite dish of yours?” Aunt Vicky prodded.

“I can cook, but not that often for Chris,” you respond, to which you’re met with crickets and cock-headed looks. You add, “He’s out of town a lot, and when he is in town, he’s the one doing the showing and proving of why I should stay with him,” you joke (kind of), and to your relief, they find it funny.

“Oooo I like her!” Vicky and Carole say in unison, causing the kitchen of women to laugh. You really did try to keep your expectations low for this visit, not necessarily wanting to seek Chris’ extended family’s acceptance, but you can’t help the relief you feel in this moment.

The next couple hours pass of helping out with dinner dishes and dessert, giggling over glasses of cocktails and family stories. You’d narrowly avoided questions about marriage and babies, but that’s to be expected. For the first time today, you’re able to forget your worries and your boyfriend and actually enjoy yourself. Speaking of...

“Hey you,” Chris is waiting by your seat that’s next to his which he pulls out for you when you arrive at it. An early Christmas dinner is about to be served, and you and Chris are reunited at the table for the first time in hours. “Missed you,” he says with a kiss on your temple. “Can’t wait to hear about your day,” he adds. But there wasn’t much talking between you two throughout the meal, though. 

No, the Evans’ family theatrics don’t allow for it. All of them talk with complete genuineness, laugh with their entire beings, opine with their whole chests, and you see where Chris gets it from. Turning to your boyfriend, you find him smiling and laughing along with the rest of the table, looking full of warmth and love. Completed by his family. Your heart gets a little heavier thinking about how he doesn’t have these moments as often as he’d like. In part by his job, yes, but a small part of you feels like you may also have something to do with that. A thought that pains you to wade in too long.

After dinner you try to help with the dishes, packing away leftovers and to-go plates. You don’t get too far, instead get shooed out of the kitchen by the elders, being told to ‘spend the rest of the evening with your man’. You oblige, realizing you barely talked to each other since earlier in the day. In your quick scan of the house, you couldn’t find him, so you shoot him a text.

Some of the kids and teenagers were gathered around some games in the den. Their antics and wittiness remind you of your nieces. They happily let you join in, and at one point, you acquired a little one on your lap as your game partner. The two of you bond over beating her cousins in these games as you school them in a few rounds of Uno, Connect Four, and Jenga. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you smile as you check it.

“Oooooo is it from Uncle Chris?” she cheekily asks as you get up, setting her on your spot on the floor.

“They’re probably gonna go make out under the mistletoe,” one of the older kids teased. The room of adolescents erupt into a fit of giggles and chorus of ‘ews’

“Are you two gonna get married?” the little cutie randomly asks you. “I heard my Grandma and Aunts talking about it!”

“Oh, wow, um… I gotta, I’ll see you all later.” With that you dash out of the room, as symphony ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G…’ fading behind you.

——————————————————————————

The sky was shades of baby blues, pinks, purples and oranges. It’s a beautiful backdrop to the snow and ice kissed tree branches and lawns. The road had been freshly salted and freed of winter obstacles making it easier to stroll along as you and Chris often did after a meal.

It’s even more beautiful than he said, you think to yourself. For a second you wonder why you were ever hesitant to come here. There was no real reason, yet you used a million excuses. But this time around, you finally ran out.

Not that you weren’t tired of your fear. That was it. The real reason… was fear.

You look down at your boots, the ones you dust off just one week a year now. Striding beside them are a larger, more expensive pair; they too only see the snow on rare occasions. Your eyes follow up the long legs they belong to, taking in the nice slacks and chunky cable knit sweater under a heavy, well-made piece of outerwear. Your eyes finally land on the face of the man in the fine threads. 

Looking at Chris right now, you’ve never seen him fit in so perfectly somewhere. But why wouldn’t he on the roads he cut his teeth on. He could make you forget every fear and every doubt you’ve ever had. Hell, he could make you forget your name on a good day. And on those days, you didn’t know what to do with all of that, what to make of it. But it’s the most wonderful time of the year, so 

“Come here,” you say just above a whisper, tugging on Chris’ hand causing him to turn to you. You bring your hands to his broad shoulders, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles there. You languidly drag your right hand over to his chest as you notice a red stain on the light colored knit. “My love…” you humoredly drag out as you tap on the food stain.

“I know, I know. My mother already beat you to the scolding,” he chuckles.

“You’d think by this age you’d have learned to be more careful.”

“Hmm, now what fun would that be…” his sultry tone didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your eyes on his tailored, dinner party clothes, hoping to find a relief for your emotions somewhere between the stitches. You never know where to begin with your feelings. Surely it would be to start with the easy stuff, but it all seems hard. 

You rub your hands on his chest, not quite meeting his eyes. “What’s up? Whatcha thinking about?” Chris asks with a lopsided grin, resting his hands on either side of your waist. You smile at him nervously. Before you could say anything, there’s a gust of sharp, cold wind. You clutch on to Chris’ sweater, burying your face in his chest seeking refuge and warmth.

“M’thinking about how you got me out in this damn cold! You know my southern bones can’t take it,” your whines muffled by his sweater. He chuckles at your antics.

Chris slowly drags his large palms up from your waist, and this just ensures that there are goosebumps on your skin under your layers if the wind hasn't done so already. He rests one hand on your shoulder pulling you apart just enough for you to look into his hazy blue eyes. His other hand continues it’s trek until it’s rested on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw. “I know of a way to get you warm…”

“Was this part of your plan?”

“Mmmm… maybe…” Chris leans in close, surely to kiss you, but you have other plans.

“How’s it feel to be back home?” you inquired with faux aloofness, slipping out of his hold and continuing your walk towards his mother’s home.

Chris hesitates for a second, wondering if you really just swerved a kiss from him. He clears his throat, “Uh… yeah it’s great! There’s nothing like family, I know you can agree to that. Even if they are loud… and crazy,” to which you both chuckle. “So…” he starts as he wraps his arms around your middle causing you both to waddle up the front lawn. “How do you feel? Not so bad, was it?”

“No! Far from it! I really, really love your family Chris,” you say as you crane your neck to look at him briefly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Although, I strongly disagree with some of their choices in best music of all time, but I’ll learn to get over that. I got over it with you,”

Chris spins you around in his arms, hands firmly on your waist. “I don’t care what you say; Joel is the best music Billy of ALL TIME!”

“Yeah, ok.” you retort with an eye roll to his amusement.

“I’m glad you had a good time babe. They’ve been hounding me to meet you for a while now. I’m happy we made it happen.”

The words are right there on your lips. I’m sorry it took so long. I’m sorry I acted silly. I’m sorry I was scared to take the next step. But what if I’m not ready? What if we get it wrong? Your throat is dry, as it often is when it’s time to bare a little of your soul. At least Chris always has something to say.

“I can’t wait for you to see me this nervous when I meet your family…” You don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. Chris looks into your eyes expectantly, lovingly. His features are soft and tender, and you think it’s the most beautiful sight on a man, on this man. Your man.

Chris looks at your lips then at your eyes. There goes that silent question again. You’ve never been one to give Chris what he wants when he wants it. He’ll never admit, but it’s one of the things he loves most about you. So, in true you-fashion, you make a run for it.

He’s baffled, but doesn’t waste much time in playing into your little game. You’re laughing hysterically as you look over your shoulder to see him bounding after you on the front lawn. You high tail it around the side of his childhood home, kind of hoping he catches you. Not even you, as stubborn as you are, would want to be running forever.

Chris walks into the backyard cautiously, but not cautiously enough as he’s met with a snowball in the temple. And your maniacal laughter.

“Oh, you’re in for it now!” Chris sneers as he scoops up the most perfectly compacted snowball.

“Oh shit!” You slowly make for the backdoor, walking up the deck stairs backwards, hands up in surrender “C’mon babe, you don’t have to do this,” you plead.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Cos all I wanted was an innocent, sweet kiss.”

“I’ll give you a kiss! Just put the snowball down.”

“It’s too late, sweetheart.” The look in his eyes is sending butterflies straight to your heat. As much as you wouldn’t mind ‘losing’ this game, there’s too much at stake.

“Think of my hair!” You whine to appeal to his better nature. That gave Chris pause, but only for a moment.

“It’s in braids; you’ll be ok.” When Chris takes a step towards you, you take a step back, but instead of eating snow as you anticipate, you slip on a patch of ice and fall flat on your ass.

Chris is quick to race over to your side. “Babe! Are you ok?” he’s slightly panicked as he lifts your torso in his arms, checking your eyes for consciousness.

“Got the wind knocked out of me, but I’m fine, yeah,” you say through a dry laugh.

“Oh, thank god.” He says with a sigh of relief and a wide smile. You smile back at him as he strokes your cheek and says, “Now I won’t feel bad about this.”

“Wha—“ You see white as your face freezes over. Chris is dying of laughter as you sputter the snowball out of your mouth. 

“Ha ha ha. Keep laughing... you won’t get that kiss you’re wanting so bad.” He immediately stops laughing, deflates, and pouts, causing you to giggle. “Oh my goodness! Is it that serious?” you teased him a little further. Chris was done playing, though. He stood up and folded his thick arms over his chest to show you he was serious.

You stood up too, and began to tap and poke at his shoulders, chest and stomach. Chris wouldn’t look at you, trying his best to stand firm and not smile. “Look up, dummy!” you say eventually. He acts as if he’s doing you a favor, but can’t hide his giddiness at the sight on the ceiling.

A leafy green plant, with a cluster of red inedible berries, secured with a red ribbon.

You take his face into your hands, lightly grazing your fingers over Chris’ full, trimmed beard. The world is out of focus as you and Chris are now eye to eye. Neither of you can hide your eagerness. You rub your thumb over his plump bottom lip and wonder why you would ever deny yourself this man.

Pulling him into you, the gap is closed between your mouths. The kiss is gentle, shy even, after first. It dawns on you that you’d only shared a quick peck at the airport, and before then, had gone a couple weeks missing each other’s touch.

The neediness and desire within you is heightened at the thought. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer. You start to get lost in him, in his warm taste and touch. You feel the yearning in Chris too. He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly to himself. His hands start to travel to places you desperately want them to be, but he catches himself, remembering where you are.

“Let’s go say our goodbyes,” he says through an out-of-breath smirk. You bite your bottom lip and reply with a quick nod of your head. 

The pair of you head inside to make your last rounds for the evening. Chris keeps it pretty brief with everyone, the both of you promising to see them again sometime soon in the new year. Early Spring seems to work for most everyone; the kids will be on spring break, Chris will be home before jetting off for a press tour, and you’ll have settled in to your new writing job, that isn’t exactly your dream gig, but a step in… a direction.

As you got into Chris’ car to head for his Boston home, waving to his family as you backed out the driveway, none of you could predict or prepare yourselves for the very different, sordid world that waits in the months ahead. How drastically it would change on grand and small scales.

You look adoringly at Chris from your spot in the passenger seat, unaware the beginning of your relationship’s treacherous slope was just a few days away. Had you known, you wouldn’t have left that kiss so soon, would’ve cherished his heated embrace a little more later tonight.

But it’s already been written.

——————————————————————————

What’d you think?

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans series #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans fan fiction #love lockdown series

[tripleaxeldiaz]

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 5/8

read on ao3

start from the beginning

The Final is a big deal. Even more so this year since it’s the last international competition before the Olympics — the last chance to show the world that you’re worthy of their attention come February. Buck’s been to five of the last eight Finals, and usually all the extra attention from press and fans, even during non-Olympic seasons, make him giddy with excitement, adrenaline pumping through him for almost a solid week before he actually competes.

This time, however, it’s been a week of feeling like he’s going to throw up any second.

It’s not because he’s doing bad at practices — in fact, he’s feeling better than ever, even got to work out his shaky landing on his quad flip that’s been haunting him for weeks. Ice looks the same no matter where you are, so it’s easy for him to get lost in the two hours he’s out there and forget everything and everyone else around him while he works.

When he steps off the ice, though, he’s thrust right back into a world where everyone is keeping an eye on him, watching him to see if he’ll live up to the expectations of being one of the best US skaters a top Olympic hopeful, or if he’ll crumble under the pressure of trying to be the best but always falling a little bit short, especially since the last Games. He’s always viewed it as a redemption — overcoming his injury and clawing his way back to the top — but he can’t control how outsiders view it, has no idea if they feel the same way or have counted him out all together. ESPN can do as many pieces on him as they want, but they can’t guarantee that people are still rooting for him. He’s sure people are talking about him, but he’s steered clear of social media knowing that even if there are nice things about him floating around, it’ll still make him feel worse, crushed by more and more expectations that he’s still not sure he’s going to live up to.

He misses when all that attention would make him feel like he was invincible. 

The biggest thing keeping him sane — despite the 6,000 miles between LA and Turin — is Eddie. They’d seen each other plenty before Buck left, Eddie still coming to the rink every day for PT and light workouts so he could stay in shape while he recovered. It was good, it was normal, even if Eddie wasn’t skating. 

But the night before his flight to Italy, the prospect of being at one of the most important competitions of the season, of his life, without most of his other teammates had hit him hard once again, sucking all the air out of his lungs and making the room spin. 

He called Eddie without even thinking and barely heard him say “Hello?” before he was spilling everything, letting out all the fears and worries he had been trying to keep under control since Bobby told him he was going to the Final. Despite being caught very off guard at 12:30 in the morning, Eddie had listened to it all — really listened, Buck could tell even over the phone. He sympathized with his fears and doubts and didn’t try to downplay them with empty platitudes. And somehow, in those frantic moments, to be heard like that was enough. Enough for the worries in Buck’s head to quiet down and retreat back into the shadows, enough for him to finally be able to breathe. They kept talking afterwards, the smooth timbre of Eddie’s voice making his eyes feel heavier and heavier, until they close and open again to sunlight filtering into his room, his phone on the pillow next to him with a disconnected call and a text that says You’re going to be amazing. Call me whenever you need me.

Buck didn’t think he’d take Eddie up on that, but he’s called him every day since he arrived and every time, no matter what time it is, Eddie picks up and listens to him.

On the last day of practice before short programs, dread settles heavy in Buck’s stomach and doesn’t get any lighter as the day wears on. He skates at the practice rink until his fingers feel numb with cold, and works out after even longer, blasting music in his headphones so he’s not alone with his thoughts for too long. He’s exhausted when he gets back to his room, the quiet that’s become so unfamiliar mixing with the dread and weighing down Buck’s entire body, feeling like it’s trying to push him straight down into the earth. Sinking onto the bed, he dials Eddie’s number.

Five rings, and no answer. He tries again. Nothing.

He tosses his phone to the side and sighs. The dread had lightened ever so slightly at the mere prospect of getting to talk to Eddie, but now it’s back in full force. If he lays here for too long, he’s worried he might melt right into the bedspread.

There’s a knock at the door, and takes every ounce of mental and physical strength he has to get him up. He has a brief, delusional thought that maybe the person on the other side of the door is the same one who didn’t answer his phone, but it’s quickly squashed when there’s another knock, followed by a voice that’s definitely not Eddie’s.

“Buck? I know you’re in there, and I can get my hands on a master key if you don’t let me in right now.”

Hen. 

He opens the door quickly, because he thinks she’s bluffing, but there’s also a very real chance that she’s not. He stands at his full height, pushing back against the dread, and plasters on a smile. “Don’t tell me you have notes 12 hours before the competition starts?”

She looks him up and down, looks through him it seems, judging by the way he suddenly wants to curl in on himself, hide whatever it is she’s looking for. She finds it, he guesses, because she nods decisively and pushes into his room. She grabs his still packed skating bag from the foot of the bed and tosses him his jacket as she goes back into the hallway.

“Come on,” she calls over her shoulder. “We’re going for a drive.”

It takes a minute for Buck’s brain to catch up with everything, but when it does, he hustles to meet her at the elevators. They make their way to the parking lot next to the hotel, where Hen unlocks the Fiat Bobby had rented for the week to get them around. “Bobby’s cool with you taking the car?”

She shrugs. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt me.”

“So I’m basically being kidnapped right now.”

“You would’ve stayed in your room if you really didn’t want to come.”

He smiles a real smile at that — she knows him too well.

Turin is beautiful at night. The city bustles with energy as people mill around, window shopping and filling up tables outside of cafes despite the early December chill. Christmas decorations have already been hung in windows and strung over rooftops, thousands of lights washing the streets in twinkling colors. Buck lets his eyes relax as he stares out the window, losing himself in the colors that pass by, hoping they’ll burn the heaviness right out of him. They stop outside the Palavela, standing out in its shadowy height among the brightness, decked out in ISU flags in anticipation for the start of competition tomorrow. Hen turns off the car and gets out, walking into the shadows of the arena and almost disappearing before Buck catches up. They make their way to the service entrance at the back of the building, where Hen pulls a key out of her coat pocket and unlocks the door.

Buck’s jaw drops. “I believed you about the hotel, but how did you get a key to this place?”

“A lot of people owe me a lot of favors,” she says, leading the way through the back hallways. 

It occurs to Buck that he doesn’t even know why they’re here, didn’t bother to ask, but regardless, he follows her deeper into the belly of the building. Hallways twist and turn as they follow them seemingly at random, until they finally make it to a set of double doors. Hen pushes them open, and Buck has a moment of panic when he sees what’s on the other side.

“Isn’t it bad luck to see the main rink the day before a competition?”

Hen rolls her eyes and walks inside. “You’re not getting married, Buck. And we’re not just here for the ice.” She keeps moving, up into the stands and further up the stairs to the mid-level walkway. It’s a former Olympic venue, so there’s thousands and thousands of seats, and the reminder that in a few short hours, they’ll be filled with people waiting to see Buck thrive or fail spectacularly weighs him down even more, coming down on his shoulders and threatening to make him stumble. He does stumble when he runs into Hen, who’s stopped dead center of the walkway, eyes warm and bright as she nods towards the other side of the rink.

Tears swim into his vision, but not because of shot nerves or worry this time (though those may be contributing to how quickly this is making him emotional).

Fans bring posters to events all the time — beautiful, handmade posters emblazoned with flags and encouraging quotes, showing their love for their favorite skaters and teams. They’re made of cardboard or printed on fabric, but are usually small, hard to see unless you’re watching on TV or very close to the boards. Sometimes, though — with special permission from the venue, usually — they go big, creating huge tarps that get hung up on the banisters surrounding the seats and stay there all week, loudly cheering for their favorites even when they may not be in the stands.

Which is exactly what Buck comes face to face with — two banners hung across part of the middle banister, covering at least 15 seats. One has a picture of him from Autumn Classic, smiling with his gold medal, with “Go Buck Go!” in big block letters over his head, all on a deep red background and surrounded by golden fireworks. The other — the one that really takes his breath away — is a collage of pictures from his programs over the years, some of his more memorable spins and poses emblazoned across the dark blue fabric. His final pose from his short this season, reaching toward the crowd and looking off into the distance, is featured most prominently, with an ornate script next to it that reads “Evan Buckley: Future Olympic Champion”.

He grips the railing a little tighter to keep himself steady, feels Hen’s hand rubbing up and down his back.

“How—” he starts, voice a little raw.

“Bobby and I saw them when we came by earlier to get our credentials. We think someone hung them up after the short dance today so they’d be ready for tomorrow.”

“Wow,” is all Buck can manage. He’s seen his face on plenty of posters, but never like this, never something that he could see from anywhere in the arena, loudly proclaiming that there are fans in his corner, people beyond himself and his sister that see him at the top of the Olympic podium. He knows they're out there, rationally, when he’s not riddled with nerves and self doubt, but still. It’s nice to be reminded. And what a reminder this is.

“I know it’s been a rough week for you,” Hen says quietly, hand still on his back. “But just...take this in. Let it push you through the next few months. They’re rooting for you, Buck. We all are. You’ve got to keep rooting for yourself too.”

As usual, she’s right — Buck went into this season as his own biggest fan, with one goal in mind that felt like it had been slipping farther and farther away with every fall and every less than perfect score. That drive to win gold becoming more and more desperate as the weeks wore on — like if he didn’t get back to where he should be, where he needed to be, he might not survive. But he has people — his team, his family, and fans like this — who are still envisioning that success for him, who believe in him no matter what. Who will still be in his corner even if he doesn’t make it to the top. Who he wants to prove right for believing in him.

Hen pats his back one last time and heads back down the stairs. Buck lingers a little longer, taking in every detail of the banners that he can, since he won’t be able to appreciate them properly tomorrow. He sneaks a few pictures on his phone, quickly shooting them off to Maddie and Eddie. It doesn’t feel like bragging — they’re at the very top of the list of people that have constantly pulled him up when he falls down the hardest. He knows they’ll appreciate this for him, just like Hen did. They’ll understand how much this means to him.

As he follows Hen’s path down the stairs, the heaviness he had convinced himself was etched into his bones feels like it stays behind, making it easier to breathe, easier to be.

Hen’s next to the boards holding his skates out to him. “You’ve got like 30 minutes — skate it out. I’ll stand watch by the door.” He takes them and sets them on the bench before enveloping her in a hug, rocking back and forth as she laughs into his shoulder. She ruffles his hair and pats his cheek before going to her post.

He feels at peace on the ice, finally. The cold isn’t harsh, it’s invigorating. The fluorescent lights aren’t too bright, they’re comforting, lighting up the grooves and divots of the ice, showing all the paths Buck can follow. A couple of laps gets his blood pumping, roaring in his ears and blocking out everything else. He starts with some easy steps — rockers and three turns, over and over like he did in skating lessons when he was a kid, losing himself in the repetition. When he feels good, really good, he goes for a quad flip, confidence flowing into every stroke as he gets in position. He takes off, and he feels light again — right again — like he’s flying, not falling, not sinking.

Figuratively and literally rising.

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s two missed calls from Eddie when he gets back to his room, and still riding the high of his good mood, he FaceTimes him. 

“Wow, I really missed that smile,” Eddie says when the call connects, and Buck rolls his eyes, not even bothering to hide the blush he can feel warm his cheeks. Eddie must have just gotten back from PT — his hair is falling in swoops over his forehead, damp with sweat, his tank top sticking to what little Buck can see of his chest. His blush gets a couple of shades darker, he’s sure, as he tries not to let his eyes linger anywhere for too long.

Buck flops onto the bed on his back, holding his phone in front of his face. “I had a pretty good night,” he says with feigned nonchalance.

“Seeing banners of your giant face already proclaiming you the next gold medalist will do that to you.” Buck laughs and Eddie laughs with him, the sound like pure happiness, burning out the very last of the dread that had been following him since he arrived. It stops quickly when Eddie sits down on his couch and hisses, wincing as he shuffles to get comfortable. 

“Rough day with Lena?” He saw her every day for two months straight once upon a time, he knows how hard she can push.

“Rough couple of days.”

“Are you feeling better, at least? Do the doctors think it’s healing okay?”

“I have a check-up tomorrow, but it’s fine. Just sore.” He finally settles but he still looks like he’s in pain. Buck wants to press, wants to know every detail of his last few days — what exercises he’s done, when the pain really got worse, if he’s resting enough. But this isn’t his injury, and everyone heals differently. And he trusts Eddie, trusts him to know how to take care of himself like he promised he would.

“Anyway,” Eddie says lightly, clearly trying to change the subject. Buck lets him. “I’m sure this good night will make for a good day tomorrow, too. You feel ready?”

“I do,” Buck answers. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that he actually means it. 

“Good. I know you’ll be great. And you’ll have my sleep deprived text commentary to look forward to when you finish.”

Buck winces. “I’m not gonna be skating until like 4AM your time, you really don’t—”

“I really do. I really want to. And there’s not a whole lot you can do to stop me.” Eddie flashes his crowd-charming smile and Buck feels like he’s melting into the mattress again. He tries for a snappy comeback, anything to keep Eddie talking, but he cuts himself off with a yawn, the exhaustion from the week seeming to catch up with him all at once.

Eddie’s smile gets a little softer. “Go to sleep, Buck. I’m gonna take a nap too so I make sure I wake up on time.”

“Okay, okay. Goodnight Eds.”

“Goodnight. Knock ‘em dead tomorrow.”

After they hang up, Buck gives himself a minute, just a minute, to really bask in that, in Eddie’s active support of him from halfway across the world. It’s one thing to have your teammates watch your programs from the stands, but to find competitions on TV, if they’re being shown at all? To figure out time zones and wake up at ungodly hours just to watch you skate live? It may not seem like much, but it’s everything to Buck. He’s only gotten this kind of commitment from one other person in his life — even his parents stopped keeping up once he started competing abroad more. And it’s different with Maddie — they’ve been on this road together for almost two decades, so intertwined with each other’s successes and failures that they’re hard to differentiate sometimes. Sure, Eddie’s been a part of his life for years now too, but as competition, an obstacle he kept trying and failing to overcome. It’s different now that they’re...whatever they are. Friends. Almost something else. 

For the second time tonight, Buck’s reminded of how grateful he is to have another solid, supportive presence in his corner. The last lingering bits of heaviness and loneliness evaporate from within him, and he knows this weekend will be good for him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Second place.

Second place is fine. Second place is great, actually. Second place is enough to show the USFSA that he’s still a contender, that he can still keep up with the best of the best despite a rocky first half of the season.

But second place is not first place. Even if it’s only six points away.

Overall, Buck is happy with his performance. He was clean on his step sequences, attacked every jump, and didn’t fall once. And six points behind the skater from Japan that everyone considers Eddie’s biggest international rival, his biggest threat against his potential Olympic gold, would make most other people ecstatic.

He’s not most other people, though. This past week has reignited the fire in his belly and it’s burning brighter than it has in a while. The medal ceremony, the interviews, the gala, everything flashes by because all he can think about is getting back to work, changing transitions and tweaking spins until even the smallest gap between him and any other skater is erased. Until he knows his programs are undoubtedly gold medal worthy.

It’s refreshing — a relief — to be back in this headspace, being pushed forward by obstacles and less-than-perfection instead of dragged into spiraling sadness.

He almost loses it a couple of times, especially when he decides to take an innocent peek at Twitter to see what fans had to say about the Final, the words “overscored” and “inconsistent” swimming in front of him until they don’t mean anything anymore, just leave doubt lingering, trying to find the home in Buck’s brain that it had just vacated. In those moments, he goes back to his messages and rereads the live texts he’d gotten all weekend, and one in particular that makes his heart skip two beats every time he sees it: 

[from: Eddie] I think you make everyone fall a little bit in love with you every time you skate

Eddie sent it in the middle of his free skate, in the middle of dozens of other compliments and criticism of other skaters, and Buck’s sure he was half awake when he sent it, but it fills him with something he doesn’t quite have a name for. Something that makes all of the harsh words and doubts disappear, because none of those matter when Eddie is here telling him that he’s good, that he deserves all of his scores and praises. That he’s loved, no matter how often he may forget.

Another fire is burning in him, a little above the one in his gut, but it’s pushing him just as hard to prove his worth. 

~~~~~~~~~

There’s four weeks left until Nationals, and Eddie still isn’t better. 

Buck can tell he’s getting frustrated too — the tension in his shoulders gets tighter and tighter, the set of his mouth harder and harder each day he comes to the rink still wearing his air cast, only able to work in the gym and with Lena, far away from the ice and the excited chatter of preparing for the second half of the season. Buck tries to be there, a shoulder to lean on, someone to listen, but he also knows how Eddie operates — he’ll slap on a smile and say he’s fine until he’s really not, until he cracks from the inside out and finally explodes with everything he’s been holding in so he keeps up this air of perfection he’s made for himself. Buck used to think it was annoying, that perfect facade, but now he knows it’s more defensive than anything, Eddie just trying to protect himself from the world and maybe from himself.

Buck doesn’t take it personally anymore, and he’s going to do his damned best to be there to keep the cracks from spreading.

It’s after 10pm when he walks into the gym, still breathing heavily from practice, his muscles burning from overuse and the need to be stretched. He was certain he was alone, so he just about jumps out of his skin when he sees someone lying on the padded floor in front of the mirrors. When he gets closer, his blood runs cold for an entirely different reason.

It’s Eddie.

Buck’s first thought is to call for an ambulance, because why else would Eddie be lying on the floor if he hadn’t hurt himself again? But as he gets closer still, Buck thinks this might be intentional. He’s on his back, headphones on, eyes closed, rhythmically tapping his hands to whatever song he’s listening to on his stomach. As Buck's shadow passes over his face, he opens his eyes and blinks at him for a minute before giving a half-hearted smile and closing his eyes again. He looks sadder, somehow, than he has in the past weeks, dark circles under his eyes and none of the golden glow that seems to follow him wherever he goes (though that may be coming just from Buck’s own imagination anyway).

Buck’s not really sure what to do here, how to fix whatever it is that’s making Eddie feel so bad.

So he lays down right next to him and waits.

The headphones come off after 10 minutes, and Eddie doesn’t open his eyes for another five. When he does, he looks over to Buck, and rather than something supportive or sweet or literally anything else, he says the first dumb thing that comes to his head:

“Are we meditating?”

But he gets an actual smile out of it from Eddie, so he takes it as a win. 

Eddie scrubs his hands over his face. “Trying to, I think.” He turns onto his side, facing Buck, and Buck turns to mirror him. He can tell Eddie is searching for his words, the right phrasing to get his point across, and he’s willing to wait as long as he needs to for Eddie to share. 

Finally, he takes a long, steadying breath. “My doctor said I might not be able to skate until the end of January, which means I might miss Nats, which means I might not—” he gestures vaguely at that, like he expects Buck to know what his silence means. Buck knows exactly what he means, and it makes him ache for Eddie, makes him reach out and squeeze his wrist when his eyes start to shine, thumb tracing over his pulse point trying to soothe him. “I’ve worked my ass off for weeks now to get better, and it still might not be good enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says quietly. “I know it sucks. More than anything.”

Eddie goes quiet again, eyes drifting to where Buck is still holding his wrist. He pulls away for just a second before slotting their fingers together properly and gently squeezing. Like always, Buck marvels at how right it feels, to be holding Eddie’s hand.

“Did you know they’ve been saying I’m the favorite to win gold for three years now? Not to brag, but—” he says quickly, eyes wide. Buck chuckles because he knows — knows now — that Eddie doesn’t have an arrogant bone in his body. He squeezes his hand back and waits for him to keep going. “It’s all I can think about. Every time I fuck up a level or finish off podium, it just stays with me, makes me feel like I’m about to crash and burn and everyone is going to be disappointed in me because I’m not actually as good as they think.” Eddie’s trembling, squeezing his hand tighter to try and stop it. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I tricked everyone into believing in me, and this stupid busted ankle is—”

“Hey, hey, no,” Buck says, pulling them up to sitting and cupping Eddie’s face in his hands as his tears threaten to spill over, slipping through the cracks. “You don’t deserve this, Eddie, no one deserves to be injured. Believe me, I know what it’s like to put all of your worth into this, and I still do it, but...you’re worth so much more than just your skating. To the fans, to the team. To me.” Eddie’s eyes drift away from his, trying to find an escape, but Buck holds firm until they drift back. “You are good. Not just a good skater, but a good person. You’ll always have that, gold medals or not. And if no one else believes in you, I do.”

Eddie stares at him, looking dumbstruck, and he’s quiet for so long that Buck worries he went too far, bared himself a little too much. He’s about to backtrack, save both of them whatever awkwardness might come, but Eddie surges forward before he can and kisses him so fiercely he swears the earth stands still.

He pushes away just as quickly, eyes wide in panic. “Shit, Buck, I’m sorry, I know we—” but Buck cuts him off, kissing him slow and deep, hands tangling into Eddie’s hair trying to pull him as close as possible. Eddie’s everywhere, his taste, his smell, his touch, and when he feels Eddie’s smile against his mouth, a smile that he put there, he feels like flying.

It finally clicks for Buck that he doesn’t have to — doesn’t want to — compartmentalize his life so much anymore. Skating and Eddie make him happier than pretty much anything. Why shouldn’t he have both?

They break apart slowly and rest their foreheads together. Buck ended up in Eddie’s lap at some point, and from here he can’t see anything but Eddie, gets lost in the curve of his cheekbones and the pout of his lips, and mentally smacks himself for thinking it was really better not having all of this. Eddie is in his corner, always, and he wants to be in Eddie’s too. Wants him to know he’s there, to remember even at his lowest points that he’s not alone, ever.

Eddie finally opens his eyes and smiles at Buck, soft but absolutely breathtaking. He squeezes his arms a little tighter around Buck’s waist, and Buck is more than happy to get as close as he can, would crawl into Eddie’s chest and stay there forever if he could.

“What are you thinking?” Eddie asks quietly.

Buck’s thinking a lot of things, or at least he was, but now that he’s focused on honey brown eyes so full of affection he could drown in them, his only real thought is Eddie Eddie Eddie.

“I think we’re stupid,” he says after a minute, and Eddie’s laugh echos around the empty gym.

“We’re stupid?”

“Okay, I’m stupid. But I think I want to fix that.”

“Oh really?”

“I think I want to be here for you, for everything.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“I think I want to remind you how amazing you are whenever I can.”

“Buck—”

“I think I want to convince you of how incredible you are whenever you stop believing it.”

Eddie’s eyes are shining again, but his smile could also put the sun to shame.

“And I think I really, really want to keep kissing you.”

Eddie shakes his head, smile getting bigger and somehow pulling Buck even closer. “I think we can make that happen,” he whispers. 

He kisses him again, and Buck is soaring.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #fs au #ficcery #there's still so much figure skating drama left i hope y'all are psyched

[fatefulfaerie]

Missed Connections (Christmas Wrapping)

Day 10 of the 12 days of Christmas prompts orchestrated by @zelink-prompts

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild pre-Calamity

Link was invited as a guest to the Hylia’s Day ball and honestly, he didn’t know how to act, how to not be on guard, how to walk without the weight of the Master Sword. When the King of Hyrule invited him to relax the night away, he likely considered that the prospect of relaxing was even more stressful for the knight with the sword that seals the darkness.

He would only admit it to himself, but Link actually liked being the knight attendant to Princess Zelda. Mostly, he kept it secret because his charge was the complete opposite, absolutely hating his assignment to her. Link also feared that being honest with her about enjoying her company would lead to accidentally being honest with her about his growing feelings for the princess. Link was thus glad that he had adapted such a habit of being stoic all the time, of course borne out of always being expected to be the perfect hero.

Sometimes, he wished he could be himself.

“Master Link,” he heard a servant say near him, Link immediately turning his head and taking a step. “You inquired after Princess Zelda.”

“Yes,” Link said. “Where is she?”

“She has fallen ill in her chambers,” the servant said. “I assure you she is well-guarded but she will not be attending the Hylia’s Day festivities tonight.”

“I see,” Link said with a nod. “Thank you.”

Link’s gaze was distant as he stood in the crowded ballroom, thinking upon his next actions with what looked to everyone else like an expression with no emotion.

He looked out at the ballroom again, all these people he felt more and more alienated from. Somehow, he felt more at home with the person who regarded him with barely a glance.

Link summoned his courage and made his way through the crowds, trying not to bump shoulders but inevitably doing so as he reached the large doors.

The hallway was refreshingly empty of ballroom guests, Link feeling as though he could finally breathe, although his royal guard uniform he wore for special occasions such as this still restricted his freedom horribly.

Link had memorized his way to Zelda’s chambers by now, it, after all, being part of his job. In fact, before he knew it he was standing in front of her closed doors with a closed fist ready to knock.

He hesitated, stopping in his tracks to consider simply letting her rest. After all, igniting her anger towards him didn’t seem the neighborly thing to do. Even though he meant to help, he was likely the last person in Hyrule she wanted to be consoled by.

But then again, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that she felt as unbearably alone as he did. Perhaps she didn’t suspect yet as he did that they were each other’s cure.

So, perhaps a bit impulsively and with a great amount of fear in his heart, he took a deep breath and knocked on her door thrice.

“Your Highness?” He asked. “Are you all right?”

There was a bout of silence where Link thought of turning himself back around, surrendering this waging battle. Perhaps she was ignoring him.

“Yes,” he finally heard, her voice softer and more angelic than he’d ever heard. “Yes I am. Are you one of my father’s men? Has he sent you to come check up on me?”

It suddenly occurred to Link that Zelda had never before heard him speak. Although cordiality towards him wasn’t something he should have gotten used to, he couldn’t help not correcting her error. Talking to her without the odd rift between them seemed the best Hylia’s Day present of them all.

“No, I…” Link responded, only imagining how angry she would be if she learned he had tricked her in the way he was about to. “Well, technically I am, but I heard you were sick and came to check up on you.”

Zelda took a pause, Link not knowing that she had graced a smile.

“That is very sweet,” she said. “Only, I…I wouldn’t call myself presentable enough to be seen by just any other soldier. I hope you don’t mind.”

Link breathed a sigh of relief knowing the doors wouldn’t open, that the charade of peace would be kept up longer. But at he same time, he stood at the door on edge, watching everything he said. She just wanted her to not feel lonely, even if just for a few moments. 

“No,” he said. “I don’t mind. Are you feeling better?”

“Not really,” Zelda replied. “Actually if I’m being honest, it’s only small headache. Really, I…I just didn’t feel like celebrating.”

“Why not?” Link asked.

Zelda laughed at the question but she didn’t seem amused in the slightest. Link’s blue eyes melted with concern

“Oh, I get it, now,” she said. “You were dared to come up here. ‘See what the Princess thinks of her inadequacy,’ how ver—“

“No!” Link insisted quickly. “No! I don’t think of you as inadequate at all! I think you’re under a lot of pressure and…and I understand you not wanting to be in that ballroom tonight.”

Link felt a great sense of relief at finally being able to get those words out and into her ears. He worried in the following silence that he had spilled it out too abruptly.

 “I don’t think anyone could ever truly understand having the kingdom’s weight on your shoulders,” Zelda said quietly, Link mouthing “really” and laughing inaudibly. “But, then again, I don’t think anyone has tried to understand my hardships, not even my father.”

Link slid down the closed door before sitting with his back pressed up against it, his head leaning against it. He hated that she needed him and yet refused to acknowledge his existence and yet he loved talking to her so openly.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a guard here?” Link asked, finally noticing the absence of one.

“New orders from the King,” Zelda explained, before almost saying mockingly, “Her Highness is to be protected from the inside of her chambers. I didn’t think it applied as an at all times thing but of course it does. There are guards in here as I speak”

“But it isn’t at all times,” Link said a bit more forcefully before panicking, realizing that some random knight wouldn’t know her schedule so well. “I…I mean you’re obviously not always in your chambers. Don’t you have a knight attendant?”

“Oh,” Zelda said. Link could hear hear spite loud and clear. “Right.”

Link felt something in his chest, something sour and bitter. Not only had he reminded her of his existence, but the way she talked when thinking about him was so hopelessly cold. He didn’t know what to do to convince her he was on her side, thus resolving to take advantage of this opportunity.

“Are you still here?” Zelda asked.

“Yeah,” Link replied cautiously. “I can leave, if you want.”

“No,” she replied. “That’s all right.”

A silence fell between them. Somehow, Link didn’t know how, but somehow that was okay. It was a comfortable silence.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” She asked, soon correcting herself. “I mean, I know you are a knight but originally…your voice. I’d guess somewhere to the south, the Necluda region.”

“Yeah…yeah I am.” Link said, turning his head to his shoulder and smiling. “You’re smart.”

“It only goes so far,” she said with a reclaimed sadness that sank Link’s heart.

“Your Highness, I…” Link started. “Can…can I be honest with you?”

“Sure,” Zelda said, Link able to hear her smile. Perhaps after such a civil conversation, him revealing his identity would work to his advantage.

“I…” he said nervously. “I want…I want to be a comfort to you. In these times of great stress…I feel like no one cares about the people they are placing their stress upon. I feel like you may need someone like me and that…that…th-that I might need you too.”

“Why would you need me?” Zelda asked calmly. “I don’t understand.”

“Because…” Link tried. He was more nervous than he thought he would be, his pulse racing and his heart running in circles that were too fast for him to keep up with. He took a breath in, closing his eyes.

“Because I’m Link,” he blurted out loudly, expelling the truth onto her and immediately thinking of a million different ways he could have said it better.

The doors swung open immediately, revealing a Princess that Link gazed upon as he stood up slowly, her elegance ethereal and her anger restrained.

She wore a white nightgown that exposed her shoulders and her ankles, that was a light fabric that floated with the incoming breeze of the near window.

And yet her furrowed brow and the ignited fury in her green eyes seemed to contradict her beauty as she glared at Link, frozen in fear and yet standing his ground.

#zelink #zelda #link #missed connections #twelve days of christmas #christmas wrapping #tloz #the legend of zelda #botw #breath of the wild

[emily-the-fae]

Sound of a Heartbeat

Part 2. Edge of the Water

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Okay so apparently this piece has formed some more or less coherent storyline and I just had to write it down...well at least try to. So if anyone enjoyed part one and is in to hear the further turn of events, here we go.

Pairing: Dracula x OC

Warnings: um, none again, suicidal mood a little bit if that counts

Watch out for the side effects of slowly dying by vampire bites (and no, it's surprisingly NOT turning into vampire)

***

Shari woke up in a strangely lit place. Woke up - big word, rather jumped into consciousness with total clarity as to what she is and what happened to her and total frustration as to where she may be located. It was definitely not the place she left. The forest around her seemed to glow light blue, fireflies dancing in the air with their bluish sparks. She didn't feel cold nor warm, all the pain seemed to leave her body together with most of her senses - Shari felt light, almost weightless and when she looked upon herself, she saw that her own body was glowing the same bluish color as everything around her.

She stood up hesitantly.  She had no idea what the place was - the campfire was gone and the forest around was nothing like the spot she stayed at before. What was this? A magic trick? A hallucination? Was she dead? Shari saw particularly bright light behind the trees and decided to walk in its direction - perhaps it was a trap, perhaps she's dead and in purgatory and there are punishing beasts waiting to see her. Shari could never be sure, but felt surprisingly at peace even in her current state, strangely at peace.

The source of light turned out to be a lake. A long and seemingly deep lake that ripped its way through the forest, no end of it seen any near, it might also be seashore, although she doubted that due to abscence of waves - there were fireflies dancing above it and the water seemed crystal clear, even though she couldn't see far below the surface because of the light emanating from it. Shari felt the urge to go closer - to dip her feet in the shiny water, almost felt the need for it, but something restricted her from doing so. She could hear whispers too - as if there were hushed voices coming from the depth of water and that scared her off quite a lot: whatever that thing was, it was definitely not as simple as it tried to look. Her witching life has taught her - if something looks nice and calls out to you, but is also magical: in most cases it wants you to be its lunch. A rule that definitely worked in practice.

The healer stopped still, then sat down on the ground abruptly, feeling awkward in her position; but she needed time to think. This all seemed unexplainably odd - the water, the indecisiveness, the whole place - it seemed like a vague dream even though she felt completely awake. Dracula said it was going to be like sleeping. But by Dracula's deeds she should already be dead. This did not look like afterlife.

Suddenly Shari sensed, rather than saw a movement behind her, ready to jump to her feet and defend herself the best she could, she turned her head to face the source of it. It was a woman. Shari could swear she wasn't there before - a young woman stared at her, standing some distance away. Her beautiful, intelligent face looked somewhat concerned, her long blonde hair thrown over her shoulder, she was glowing the same bluish light as everything else around them. Shari recognised her, very vaguely, but she did remember: Adrian had shown her portraits before.

- Lisa? You're Lisa, right? Lisa Tepes, I know you! - Shari wanted to jump up, but the woman held her back with a gentle gesture of her hand. Lisa - or whoever it was that looked like her - floated rather than walked closer, then sat down next to a very confused and excited Shari, giving her a reassuring smile. There were a few moments of silence, while her guest studied her face intently.

- You are beautiful, you know, - Lisa smiled warmly.

- Wh-What? I mean thanks, but why? I mean... Umm what kind of a conversation starter is that? Are you?... Are we?... Am I not dead or...? - Shari was startled to say the least.

- Yes, you are... Heading in the direction of death, though your friends and specifically my son are very insistent upon the opposite. I believe, you'll have to live up to their expectations and survive now... although it all depends on you, really.

A pause. Shari nodded slowly, taking in her words.

- But-but hasn't your husband killed me? I thought he was definitely going to finish me off...

- He was going to, I'm sure. But he didn't have enough time to do so... or will, for that matter, - the woman turned somewhat remorseful. - I hope he didn't hurt you too much.

- He... tried not to, at least in the end. That's a pity he didn't succeed. I almost felt grateful to him for doing so, - Shari turned away to look at the lake. - It wasn't going to end well anyway...I wasn't going to end well.

- Don't. It's probaly his poison wearing off on your mind, but stilll.Just don't say that. Value what you have while it's still in you. You have to live. Trust me, it's not as pleasant as it seems to be when you get to the other side.

- Why excatly? - a chuckle. - You know, I'm not far from death anyway, it is going to be pain and waiting for me. To go like that is the best way now, I am afraid. Going to be there soon, why not strip myself of needless agony, - she hesitated for a moment. - You are actually dead by the way. If you say I'm still alive, how are we even talking?

- I am not quite sure I can explain this properly, - Lisa frowned, her gaze drifting off to the lake. - The simplest way to place it is: sometimes the people who die are not yet ready to leave this world - and then they stay between life and death, like...

- Essentially, you're telling me that you're a ghost, - Shari felt a bit sceptical.

- Essentially, yes.

- And why am I seeing you out of all people?

- Because I wanted so?

- Why? To tell me to survive?

- Yes.

Shari arched an eyebrow, looking at Lisa with mistrust.

- I don't like this simple tone.

- You are not going to like it, - she hesitated, then continued. - You have to save Wallachia, - the words left her mouth so easy and obvious, that Shari burst out laughing.

- Oh no-no-no, now I'm definitely hallucinating. Is this some fairy tale for children or something? Listen here, you ghost of Christmas past, I'm no kind of warrior-saviour person. I'm not going or willing to catch up to the pathos of "you are the chosen one" or whatever it is that they say in those situations. I believe you confuse me with your son, madam, - Lisa listened silently to her monologue with an amused smile on her face; it was obvious that the reaction was quite expected. When Shari finished, the ghost carried on:

- That is exactly why you have to do it. You are no chosen one. But you are one who has at least a chance. Adrain doesn't. He thinks he does, everybody thinks he does, but in reality it will only go worse if he works out his plan. I know... I don't need you to save all of Wallachia after all, - Lisa paused after that sentence and Shari looked up confused, trying to catch her meaning. -  Just one person - and that will do the rest, - the woman was very serious, and Shari suddenly understood this conversation was somehow real, even if happening in a dream realm.

- And who might that be? - she asked carefully, in a hushed voice.

- Dracula.

Shari actually laughed.  Loudly. Not quite rolling on the ground, but close to doing so. Lisa looked at her, with a raised eyebrow and calmly waited for the small hysteric to finish.

- Done yet? - were her only words, when Shari seemed to calm down a little bit.

- Listen, ok, I get it, you want to protect your husband, but...

- You don't understand! It's not only about protecting him - it's about stopping this war. Peacefully. It's about stopping Adrian from killing his own father - you need to persuade Dracula to call back his army, - Lisa was looking at her earnestly, determination in her stare. Shari only huffed.

- You... How do you imagine me do it? Persuade him? Are you insane? He would tear me apart and finish what he started, he didn't listen to Adrian, he actually almost killed Adrian, his own son. Why would he listen to me now?

- That is quite the point. He would listen, because it's you, - Lisa leaned back, smiling at the confusion on the girl's face.

- Oh yes, and what's so special about me? - Shari replied sarcastically.

- Nothing.

- Ouch.

- Apart from the fact that he pities you, - sensing that she was about to be interrupted, she quickly added. - I've watched both him and Adrian, thinking of a way to figure this out and stop them from tearing at each other's throats, and you suddenly came as the most valid solution I can think of for the time being.

- He... "pities" me? - Shari rubbed her neck, raising her eyebrow. Sure. He pities her so much; she flinched slightly at the memory of their encounter.

- Don't go witty. He does. He was merciful to you, he almost didn't want to kill you, that's why he didn't succeed. You're the first human after my death that he feels this way to... You are a person he did not know before all of this, you evoke his pity and you seem to have the skill to negotiate your way into people's good side and out of conflicts. You may actually have something in you to change his mind.

- That's not how it works, he...!

- You remind him of me. You may persuade him that there are people worth fighting for... That there is a life worth fighting for, - her tone was growing louder with each word, getting more insistent.

- Wait a minute, so you want me what? To replace you? Remind him of you and tell him you wouldn't want it? Tell him your final will, you think that'll stop him? - Shari jumped to her feet, backing away.

- I want you to go to find him. To reassure him, show him pity, show empathy. You will remind him of me. And he will come back to understanding that humanity is not all bad, that some people are still worth keeping alive. And that awar against them is not worth his own or our son's lives, - Lisa stood up too, sensing the tension rise and stepped closer once again. Shari did not like it. She didn't just die heroically to come back and search for yet another heroic and probably much more painful death.

- No, Lisa, I-I see what you want me to... But I'm not you! You see, I'm not you! I can't just go and drag - who? Dracula-the-vampire-king-that-just-killed-me - out of his murderous depression! - she backed away.

- If you had a choice: you can surrender or you can come back to fighting with a new way...

- Yes, I think if I had any kind of choice and if I survived, I would keep away from trouble and try to hold onto my final bits of life for as long as possible, thank you very much! - Shari argued loudly.

- You have to do it, if you live, Shari. It is the only way to protect you and... - Lisa made another step towards her.

- And die a much more painful death, yeah, thanks, great, - Shari almost hissed. Her attention suddenly turned to the pool of water behind her. So that was the whole trick, why Lisa appeared to hold her back from dying. - Oh. I know how this works. The lake is the entrance. My decision if I do or don't die, right?

- Precisely, though it's not really you, who decides. You touch the water - you either leave or wake up. Can't be sure until you do... - Lisa answered. - But before you decide and step in I want you to think. Shari, you have to fight for it, for yourself annd for Adrian, for all the people out there you've been trying to help!

- I am not your son, - she answered barely audible, but firm.

- Shari! - Lisa stepped yet again closer.

- No! I've had my bunch of suffering. I'm not going back in just because you believe I am good for the fight, I'm not! I'm selfish, okay? I did not ask for this, - she paused, glancing at the water. - Whatever it is, let it be. If I die - I die, right? - Shari turned away decisively and with a moment of hesitation made a small step forward, into the water, not looking back at the ghost.

She awaited darkness or light, hell or heaven or emptiness and quiet. Whatever escape was about to come, she threw herself at its mercy.

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