#I don’t think I’ve been Rory forever I think I grew into it
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one thing ive been spinning around my head lately is that my birth name doesn’t have to die. i totally get why people call it a deadname, but i think i don’t mind if mine lives a bit? perhaps in a perfect world id kill it, but ive never been good at imagining utopia, and i think that it’s easier for me to let that name stick around in a sidecar than it would be to try to lose it.
#this is absolutely like a me thing and not a commentary nobody fight me#im mostly thinking abt this bc I might get to kind of easily change my name professionally if I get this job I want#bc the person who recommended me is a friend of a friend who calls me rory#so like i still have to do all the paperwork under my legal name but they refer to me as Rory when they talk abt me I guess lol#and I’m like ‘hey that’s cool!’ but also#I’ve been thinking abt the HUNDREDS of bylines i have under my birth name#and I’m like yeah I don’t want to go around getting those changed#I know some people do!!! I just don’t want to#and yeah. brings abt the silly ‘not trans enough’ thoughts which are dumb dumb dumb#so I’m trying to reflect on it more lol#i don’t rly want to be called by my birth name anymore but I don’t really mind looking back at myself with that name#I don’t think I’ve been Rory forever I think I grew into it#I might delete this 😂 gotta love a public diary entry at 7pm on a Saturday#couldn’t even wait till 3am like a normal weirdo
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Can you do a michael x reader where they have a little girl together and she tells him she is sad and its cute and fluffy
STOP I LOVE ANY OF THE BOYS AS DADS
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When the infernal copulating between a human and a ghost created Michael Langdon, Satan bestowed upon his son many powers that would help him on his plans to world domination. All of these powers, be it telekinesis or pyromancy, mind reading or the power of persuasion, had come in handy as Michael grew up and followed the path that had been decided for him since long before he was born. If you had to take a wild guess, though, you would assume that Satan had not foreseen Michael using his powers to keep an eye on his small daughter.
Michael can sense Aurora's turmoil before she's even rounded the corner to his office. His sweet girl, named after the dawn to remind her parents that there was always light after the darkness, her being that light for them. Even when he was traveling far and wide to take care of business in the Outposts, he could still mentally check in on his daughter randomly during the day. Being at home in the Sanctuary, that link is amplified by 1000. It also doesn't help that she's just as dramatic as her dad (your claim, not Michael's) and that she's a master-in-training at making her emotions known to everybody.
The door to Michael's study swings open, Michael staring expectantly until he sees his daughter's blonde curls peek up over the desk. She should be napping right now, even though she adamantly claims that four-year-olds do not need naps. Aurora's naps are the one time you'll leave your daughter with a babysitter without Michael's suggestion, using this free-time as an uninterrupted hour and a half to go and accomplish whatever you need to do. You had mentioned this morning that you were interested in checking on the progress with the re-colonization of the newly-restored Earth, which is probably where you are.
"Rory," Michael attempts to scold (impossible on a normal day, but especially when he slips up and uses her nickname while trying to be the tough parent), "why aren't you with Ms. Mead right now?"
Aurora huffs, eyes shining with tears as she comes around the desk and stands in front of Michael with her hands on her hips. You claim that she's the spitting image of Michael, but when she stares at him with that determined look in her eyes, all he sees is you. "She doesn't know I'm gone."
"And how did you sneak away?"
"I was real quiet," Aurora explains.
"Uh-huh." Michael raises an eyebrow, but she remains unflinching. "You're supposed to be taking a nap right now."
Her bottom lip quivers, and Michael crumbles. "'m sorry Daddy."
Michael takes his daughter's small hands in his, the comforting gesture causing her to fully burst into tears. "Lovebug, why are you sneaking around the halls?"
"I just miss you!"
"What do you mean?" Michael lifts her onto his lap. "I'm right here."
"You were gone for so long, an-and now you're here, but you're always busy."
Yep, Michael's heart is definitely broken now. "We talked every night while I was gone, though!" One of the perks of the Cooperative needing technology is being able to see his family even if he can't be with his family.
"But you weren't here!" Aurora wails, throwing her head into his shoulder and sobbing more.
"Oh, please don't cry."
Michael wraps his arms around her in a tight hug, shushing and soothing her until her cries turn to whimpers. After a few minutes, Aurora finally brings her tearstained face up from his suit jacket, Michael using his thumb to wipe her tears.
"I'm sorry that I haven't been here for you." Michael can admit that he's definitely been busy lately, but he hadn't realized that it was affecting his daughter so much. He's been trying to spend extra time with her before she goes to bed, but that's not enough to keep her from missing him.
"Mama misses you too," Aurora says sleepily, one hand hanging by her side and the other lazily holding onto Michael's shirt. That settles it, Michael thinks as he secures his arms around Aurora and stands with her, walking to the little girl's bedroom. Unsurprisingly, you're already sitting in the rocking chair, waiting for your two favorite people to return.
"Ms. Mead was worried, so she came to find me," you explain.
"Sorry for running, mama," Aurora mumbles, blearily staring at you as Michael lays her on her bed.
"It's okay, baby. I know you just wanted to go see daddy."
Michael awkwardly sits on his cloak, sitting next to Aurora and holding onto her hand until her breathing evens out. Even when it does, he doesn't let go of her.
"I've fucked up, and I'm sorry," Michael begins.
"My love, please don't apologize. You're busy trying to rebuild the world," you say.
"But she doesn't understand that. She just knows that she wants me to be more present, but I'm not."
"She's four. Four-year-olds have big emotions, okay? It's all or nothing with them."
"I had a home built for us on the beach," Michael blurts suddenly.
You look up at him, startled. "You what?"
"I wanted to wait until the perfect moment, but there's really no better time than this. We'll still have our forever home, wherever we decide to make it, but this can be our own little paradise, our own Eden."
Michael puts an image in your head of the house and the location, and you gasp. "It's--"
"The beach where we had our first kiss. The beach that we got married on."
During Michael's Hawthorne days, which felt like a different lifetime now, you and he often snuck out to meet each other on a beach on the coast of Malibu. In hindsight, it's hilarious that you both danced around your feelings for so long when those were the lengths you went to to see each other when you were "just friends."
"Let's go away for a few days, just the three of us."
"But what about your work, the Cooperative?" You try to sound concerned for him, but you can't hide just how excited you are by this surprise.
"That can wait. Nothing is more important than my favorite girls." You surge towards Michael's lips, tenderly kissing him in thanks.
"I love you."
"I love you too, and I'm sorry for not being there for you or Aurora."
"I mean, just you taking a couple of days off will make it up to Aurora," you laugh.
"Daddy's not gonna work?" Aurora must have been woken up when Michael slipped his hand from hers, having caught the tail end of the conversation.
"Nope, I'm all yours."
All of Michael's doubts and worries, his fears and anger, none of it matters when he sees how brightly his baby smiles at him.
#michael langdon#michael langdon imagine#michael langdon imagines#michael langdon x reader#ahs#ahs imagines#ahs apocalypse imagine#ahs imagine
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Stark Spangled Forever
A Very Rogers Christmas.
Part 1- The Best Things In Life Are Tree.
Summary: It’s that time of year again and the Rogers family prepare to go and pick their Christmas tree. But when Emmy calls with a bit of bad news, it puts a little downer on the whole thing for Katie and Steve decides to call in reinforcements to pull off the best Christmas Heist he can…
Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark
A/N: So here we go, Part 1 of my Stark Spangled 2020 Christmas special- A Very Rogers Christmas. This one was written for for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @sagechanoafterdark ‘s Winter/Holiday Challenge. My prompt- Finding the PERFECT Tree.
It feels like AGES since I wrote for my babies so I hope you enjoy this little three parter. Part 2 posting next Friday, and part 3 on Christmas Eve.
SSF Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist
"Daddy, I found something else I want to ask Santa for, for Christmas." Rori bounced into the study and Steve closed his eyes on the papers he was trying to grade and sighed.
"I bet you have." He mumbled before he glanced up at his daughter and couldn't help but smile at her as she skipped over to him, her long pony tail swinging behind her "What is it, Princess?" "A capybara." she said, scrambling up onto his lap. "A what?" Steve frowned. "A capybara. Look!" she turned the tablet she was holding towards him to show him a picture of the brown animal "They're like huge guinea pigs. I saw one at the zoo with Uncle Buck yesterday and when I said I wanted one he told me to tell you that I was gonna ask Santa." "Course he did." Steve sighed, mentally cursing his asshole best friend. "You know, Rori, don't think Santa can get you one of those." "Why not?" "It’s too big." He attempted “There’s nowhere for us to keep it.” "Our garden is huge!" Rori blinked at him. "And when Emmy and Petey move into the Tower he can live in the cabin." Trust her to be as damned smart as her mother. "They're wild animals honey." Steve shook his head as he tried attempt number two. "But they live in a zoo." Rori looked up at him, her face full of eager excitement “That’s not the wild.” "Yeah but that’s different." Steve reasoned patiently. "They're not like dogs or cats or regular guinea pigs. They need very special care.” "Oh." Rori looked down a little, her shoulders slumping and Steve sighed.
Fuck you, Bucky.
"Okay. Never mind." She clicked off the screen of her tablet and turned towards Steve, looking up at him with those damned green eyes. "Do you think he could get me a kitty instead?"
No, just say no… "Maybe."
Way to go, Rogers. Rori's eyes lit up and Steve inwardly groaned. It was a well-known fact in their house that whenever Dad said maybe, it meant yes. Fuck.
“I love you Daddy!” she beamed, reaching up to press a kiss to his bearded cheek before she hopped off his lap and skipped towards the door “Oh, me and momma are going to make gingerbread men for tomorrow so we can have them when we decorate the tree.”
“Can’t wait baby.” He smiled
“Are you gonna be working tomorrow afternoon?” she asked a little shyly and he shook his head.
“No, I promise.” He assured her. “All day tomorrow is family day.”
She gave him another huge smile, one that truly warmed his entire being as it made her look even more like his wife, and then headed out of the room, her feet pattering on the tiles of the hallway as she skipped back into the other part of the house. Steve exhaled and looked back down at the paper, groaning as he realised he’d lost his place. He’d been home early that afternoon hoping for more peace and quiet than he got in his office at the University to concentrate on getting through all these and for the most it had worked, until Jamie and Rori had arrived home from school full of it as usual. Katie had kept them out of his way for the most but the realisation that Christmas was well on the way had hit the eldest two and whipped them up into a fever.
Not that Steve particularly cared. He adored this time of year. It was Katie’s holiday and from the day after Thanksgiving the Christmas period started in full throttle in the Rogers household, and they’d picked tomorrow, 2 weeks before the schools broke up, to go and pick the trees for their lounge and hallway. He was a little disappointed that it hadn’t snowed yet, there had been a good covering the previous year but, still it was set to be a cold and dry day so they could still get bundled up and have their hot chocolate and snacks as usual.
He rubbed at his eyes and focussed, reading through the paper in front of him on the ‘Strategy, Diplomacy and politics of Axis and Allied forces in WW2’, wishing to God he was marking something on the course he was actually employed to teach now- Fine Arts- but all those had been done and graded last week. This was the module of History that he taught, because as the Uni said- he was a living, breathing expert.
Aparently.
An hour or so later he finished red-penning the final six paged essay, with a proud smile as that one had been particularly good and he quickly checked it over once more, making sure he’d captured all the notes on the electronic copy and queued it up to send on Monday, just like Katie had shown him how to, so that each student had the hard copy and soft copy back. He stood up, stretched, turned off his laptop and headed through to the main area of the house, the smell of baking and cooking hitting his nostrils as he went.
He walked into the kitchen to find Rori kneeling on one of the tall stools over the island-slash-breakfast bar, her hands and face smeared in pink icing as she decorated a gingerbread man, her little tongue poking out of the side of her mouth in concentration. Katie was stood supervising Harry who was also covered in frosting, this one bright green. Flossie sat in the highchair opposite, banging a spoon on the tray occasionally letting out a yell or babble of something incoherent. As soon as she saw Steve she gave a huge grin and her shouts became louder and he smiled.
“Hi Floss-Floss!” he beamed, crossing to drop a kiss to her head before he looked across at Katie “Where’s Jamie?”
“Upstairs in his room.” Katie gave a little sigh “He said, and I quote, ‘I’m ten now, far too old to decorate gingerbread, mom.’ I could have cried there and then Steve.” She finished with a pout.
Steve gave her a sympathetic smile, the fact her eldest baby boy was growing up was something he knew she hated “Yeah, I bet he won’t be too old to eat them, though.” He appeased and she smiled.
“That’s what I said.” Rori gave a dramatic roll of her eyes and Steve chuckled.
“You finished Grading?” Katie asked as she gently guided Harry’s hand over the cookie shaped like a Christmas tree.
“Yeah, all done. Sorry it took so long.”
“It’s okay.” She looked up at him, smiling “Your dinner is in the oven. I already ate with the kids. Sorry, I was starving.”
“I didn’t expect you to wait.” Steve walked over the room and dropped a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”
He made his way over to the Aga stove and opened the door, giving a little groan when he saw she’d done his favourite, a Mac and Cheese bake laced with chicken, chorizo and broccoli. He turned to look at her and didn’t miss the flicker of a smile on her face as she knew what he was thinking, before he pulled out the plate giving a yell as it burnt his fingers, dropping it onto the side with a clatter.
“Careful daddy, hot!” Harry turned to face him, and Katie burst out laughing.
“Yeah, thanks Son.” Steve tried not to roll his eyes as he sucked his thumb. Grabbing a tea-towel he gripped the plate, found some cutlery and sat down at the table to the side of the kitchen, tucking in.
“I finished all mine, Momma.” Rori grinned, placing the tube of squeezy frosting down on the side. Steve watched as Katie moved to look over Rori’s shoulder.
“Good job sweetie.” She smiled, “Creative, I’ve never seen a pink cat before.”
Steve paused and looked at Rori as she grinned “I know they’re not really pink, and my kitty won’t be, but it can have a pink collar.”
At that he winced and hastily shoved another forkful of food into his mouth, praying that the conversation stopped there.
Katie sighed “Rori we’ve been over this, you can’t have a cat.”
“Daddy said I could.”
Shit.
Katie’s eyes shot to Steve and he gave her his best innocent look, but from the way her features grew stern he knew he was utterly busted and he swallowed the food in his mouth which turned to cement in his throat.
“No, that’s not what I said.” Steve shook his head.
“You said maybe.” Rori shrugged “Same thing.”
“We getting a kitty?” Harry asked, looking at Katie.
“No.” she shook her head.
“But I asked Daddy if Santa would bring me one and he said maybe.” Rori looked at Katie.
“Well Daddy is wrong.” She glared at Steve and he visibly shrank in his seat. Katie’s green eyes narrowed before they turned back to Rori. “Santa can’t bring live animals. It’s in the rules.”
“What rules?”
“The Christmas Rules” Katie said quickly “No live animals. It’s not fair on them. They don’t like the sleigh.”
“But…”
“No buts Rori.” Katie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose “I’m sorry honey, but it’s not gonna happen.”
Rori pouted a little but she knew when she was beat and glanced down at the cookies on the tray before she looked up, grinning smugly. “I’ll just ask Uncle Bucky to get me one. He got me Dory.”
“Oh for the love of…” Katie spluttered “Uncle Bucky won’t get you one either.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll tell him not to.” Katie looked at her “We have Stark. No more animals.”
Rori folded her arms and at that point Steve stepped in, sensing an impending tantrum.
“Aurora.” He said sternly and she turned her head to face him as he pointed his fork at her. “Enough.”
She glared at him before she sighed and looked at Katie “Can I get down now please?”
Katie obliged and pulled her stool out a little allowing Rori to hop down. “Stay right there little miss.”
“Why?” Rori frowned as Katie headed to the sink, coming back with a cloth. With a groan, Rori held out her hands so Katie could wipe them clean, along with the little smear of icing on her face “20 minutes and then its bath time. We’re up early in the morning.”
“Ooh, yeah!” Rori bounced excitedly “To pick our trees. Hey, can I get one for my room?”
Katie hesitated before she shrugged “You know, I saw some in the shop that already have the lights on and they change colour. We’ll get a big one for the lounge and hallway like normal and I’ll get you a special one. And you get to keep it for next year and the year after.”
Rori pondered this for a moment before she shook her head “I want a real one from the farm.”
Katie groaned, and threw her hands out to the side “Fine, just, go and watch TV or something in the Play Room.”
“I watch TV too please, Momma?” Harry asked and Katie nodded, cleaning him up too before she lifted him down off the stool. He toddled after Rori, yelling for her to wait and as soon as they were gone Katie rounded on Steve.
“Honey, I…” he began and winced as she exploded on him.
“Seriously? A damned cat?”
“She caught me unawares.”
“She always catches you unawares!” Katie scoffed “After six, almost seven years I’d have thought you’d be used it by now.”
“I only said-“
“And as usual I’m left to be the bad guy.” Katie ranted, shaking her head as she moved to turn Flossie’s chair so she was facing the table. “You’re an asshole.”
“This is technically Bucky’s fault.”
“Oh, no, Steven Grant Rogers! Don’t you are try and blame this one on Buck.” She hissed.
“But he took her to the zoo and told her to ask for a capybara!” Steve practically whined “When I said no she asked for a cat, the maybe just slipped out.” Katie paused, her arms folded, face furious and Steve peered up at her giving her a little smile “Don’t be mad, come on baby. I didn’t mean it.”
“You’re still an asshole.” She grumbled, before she crossed to the fridge and pulled out the wine. “And for that you can deal with bedtime. I’m going for a bath.”
“Sure, not a problem.” Steve nodded, swallowing more of his food. Katie poured herself a large glass before she moved to put the bottle back and then changed her mind. With the bottle in one hand, full glass in the other she made for the door. “I love you.” Steve shot as she passed him, and despite her annoyed demeanour, the slight smile that played on her face told him he wasn’t in too much trouble.
****
All kids were bathed and in bed little over an hour later. The youngest three settled down to sleep, Jamie instructed he had an hour of TV or reading time before lights off.
“Ok Dad.” He nodded, running his hand through his hair as he tidied up his games console a little, Stark curled up on the bed.
“I’ll be in to check.” Steve looked at him, and Jamie rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, I got it. You can trust me.”
“I know.” Steve gave a chuckle “Night son.” He crossed the room to drop a kiss to his head and Jamie pushed him away.
“Gerroff, I’m ten.”
“Yeah, well, you’re still my kid so…” Steve grumbled, and Jamie burst into laughter as the pair of them began to play fight, Jamie digging Steve in the ribs with a well-aimed jab. “Ouch! “ Steve stood up, rubbing at his side, that had hurt a little too much for his liking. “Nice shot.”
“Bucky said I had a good right hook.”
Steve rolled his eyes “I don’t wanna know how he even found that out.”
“He has a punch bag in the garage.” Jamie shrugged as he flopped down onto his bed. “Like yours. He was teaching me to swing.”
“I could teach you that.” Steve replied, a little petulantly.
“Will you?”
“No. You’re ten.” He shot back and Jamie let out a groan of frustration, before Steve chuckled “Ok, I’ll teach you a little IF you promise not to use it anywhere but on the punch bag.”
“But what if I need to use it?”
“Well, that’s different.” Steve pondered, before he shook his head. “But you’re far too young to be getting into situations like that.”
“Uncle Buck said you were fighting people form the age of six. And getting your ass kicked.”
“Well, you do as I say…”
“Not as I do, yeah I got it.” Jamie grinned and Steve arched an eyebrow before he made his way to the door. He paused and turned back to look at his son, not for the first time taking in how damned tall and broad he was for his age. He pointed to Stark “Don’t let your mother catch him on the bed.”
“You know she says the same thing about you.” Jamie looked at him and Steve chuckled.
“I do, but let’s just pretend I don’t okay?”
“Okay, night dad. Love you.”
“Love you too.” Steve smiled, closing the door behind him.
He made his way back downstairs and into the lounge, and paused as he saw Katie talking into the laptop, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Don’t worry about it.” She said softly, and he could tell she was fighting to keep her face straight as Emmy’s voice came from the other side.
“I’m just gutted we can’t get home to come with you guys for the tree.”
“What’s going on?” Steve frowned as he sat next to Katie on the sofa, looking at Emmy and Peter as they both waved to him on the screen “Hey Kids.”
“The UK has been caught up in a huge snow storm.” Katie turned to him. “Their flight has been cancelled.”
“Bummer.” Steve’s frown deepened “Is there nothing from another airport?”
“Not in London.” Emmy shook her head “And the roads are that bad, even if we managed somewhere else…”
“Don’t wanna risk driving Mr R.” Pete shrugged and Steve had to give it to him, that was a sensible move.
“Wise decision.” Steve bit his lip, before he turned to Katie “Can we not get The Stark jet over? You guys should have used that anyway, not gone commercial.”
The irony of his statement didn’t pass him by, as there’d been a time when he had hated using a private jet as he felt it was ostentatious, but he’d fast learned to live with it as it was less hassle and a damned sight comfier and quicker too.
“I told you we didn’t want to.” Emmy shot back and Peter hastily cut in to prevent an argument.
“Already tried Happy before we called. He can’t get in any airfield be it private or other. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Katie shook her head “If you need anything just call. Have you got a place to stay?”
“Yeah, The Savoy found us another room.” Emmy shrugged before she grimaced “I’m gonna have to put it on my credit card though.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Katie shook her head “Just do what you gotta do, we’ll sort the bill out. Do you need us to wire you some cash or-“
“No, we’ve got enough between us for that.” Pete smiled “Just the hotel. We could get somewhere cheaper if that’s-“
“If it’s that bad out there you can stay where you are.” Steve shook his head. “Don’t worry about the money kids, it’s not important.”
“Just call us if you need anything.” Katie added.
“Thanks Mom. Look, we’re gonna go try and get something to eat and then sleep” Emmy sighed “It’s past 1 am now.”
“Sure, call us tomorrow okay, keep us updated.” Steve instructed and Emmy nodded.
“Will do. Love you both.”
“And you.” Katie smiled “Stay safe, and look after each other.”
“Got it.” Emmy grinned and with that she blew them both a kiss as Peter waved and the screen went blank.
Katie bit her lip before she tapped at the keyboard of her laptop “I’m going to send her some money, just in case. I know she has plenty in her savings, but…”
Steve nodded “Good idea. Those are for a rainy day, not a snowy one.”
Katie gave a small smile as she logged into the banking, and hesitated before she transferred a few thousand over to Emmy and closed the laptop, running her hands over her face. Steve saw her shouldes shake and he gave a sigh, pulling her to him.
“Hey, come on. They’re safe. In the poshest hotel known to man.” He pressed a kiss to her head “No doubt thinking this is some kind of huge romantic adventure. Snowed in, in London, with a mini-bar, room service.”
At that thought he grimaced, as his mind took him to a very dark place about just exactly what the spider kid would be doing to his daughter in said hotel room but he shook himself out of it as Katie spoke, sniffling a little.
“I know it’s just, well we started this tradition with Emmy that first Christmas she lived with us.” Her voice cracked “We went with Tony, Pep and Nat remember?”
“I could I forget.” Steve chuckled, his hands rubbing Katie’s back “You were almost five months pregnant and had that jumper on with a huge Christmas pudding on the front.”
“I’ve still got that.” Her voice was muffled as her face pressed into his Henley.
“And Pepper was going mad when Tony bought that nine foot tree for their lounge.”
“Ours wasn’t much smaller.” Katie laughed, leaning back to wipe her eyes. “You had to trim the top off.”
Steve chuckled, his hands cupping her face “A few days after that we found out bump was blue. Hello Jamie.”
“God it seems so long ago.”
“It was.” Steve smiled pressing a kiss to her lips. “11 years.”
“Yeah.” Katie looked at him “We’ve been through a lot since then.”
Steve nodded, as he wiped her face with his thumbs “And a lot worse than this. I know it’s disappointing, kitten, and I’m gutted as well, but it can’t be helped. We’ll still have a good time and we can go out with Emmy and Peter when they get back, nice meal and a few drinks somewhere instead, just the four of us. Start a new tradition now she’s all grown up.”
“Yeah suppose.” Katie sighed “I mean when they moved out in the New Year, they might not wanna come with us to get a tree anymore.”
“Like that’s gonna happen.” Steve snorted “She’ll simply be getting one for her own place. You know she loves Christmas as much as you. All the kids do. Because you make it so special.”
“It isn’t all down to me.” She smiled “You help.”
“It’s definitely your speciality.” Steve shook his head “You do the baking, the carols, the cooking…suss the decorations out.”
“Yeah, but you hang them. And you’re the one that started leaving Santa footprints by the hearth.”
“Okay so it’s a team effort.” Steve shrugged, dropping another kiss to her lips. “It always is when the kids are concerned.” He pulled back a little and nodded to her glass “You want another?”
“I wasn’t going to but yeah, now I do.”
Steve chuckled “I’ll go get us a drink, you find us something suitably Christmassy to watch.”
He stood, pressing his lips to the crown of Katie’s head before he wandered into the kitchen. As he closed the door behind him he pulled out his phone. He’d had an idea, but hadn’t wanted to mention it to Katie just in case it didn’t work…but if it did, well, he was going to reunite his family for their tradition and earn himself major husband points.
Win win situation.
“Hey punk.” Bucky drawled as he picked up.“What’s crackalackin?”
“God you talk some shit.” Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky laughed
“Sorry, we were watching Madagascar.”
“Yeah, I know where it’s from. I got five kids, remember. Six if I count you.”
“Well you could argue Diva Doll counts for two so you really have seven.”
“Yeah, speaking of which, I got a bone to pick with you about her and a damned capybara.” Steve narrowed his eyes as he spoke and there was a pause before Bucky burst out laughing. “Yeah, laugh it up, jerk. That got me in some major shit before.”
“You didn’t say yes?”
“No of course I didn’t.” Steve sighed “But she sideswiped me asking for a damned cat and I said maybe, so…”
“You fucking moron.”
“Whatever, listen, that’s not why I’m calling anyway.” Steve sighed, his voice growing serious. “I need a favour, Buck.”
“I’m listening.” Bucky replied, before Steve explained the predicament and possible solution. When he finished there was a pause and Bucky let out a long whistle. “Man, that’s…”
“I know, I know.” Steve sighed “But I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. Katie’s heartbroken Emmy can’t get home.”
“Well, we can’t have the second most important woman in my life upset now can we?” Bucky replied “Leave it with me.”
“Cheers buddy.”
“You’ll owe me a life time of favours if I can pull this off.”
“We’ll call it quits for you almost getting me couched.”
“Not my fault you can’t say no to your likkle Princessa.” Bucky responded and Steve snorted.
“You’ve met her, right?”
There as another pause and Bucky laughed “Point taken.”
“Not a word to Katie.” Steve instructed “Just in case you can’t do it.”
“You seriously doubt me after all this time?” Bucky sighed “That hurts Stevie.”
“You know what else will hurt?” Steve shot back “My foot up your ass.”
“You want me to do this or not?” Bucky scoffed “Because threatening me aint gonna make me wanna do you any favours.”
“No but not wanting to see my wife upset is.”
“You fight dirty, Steven.” Bucky’s voice was low and Steve could imagine the narrowed eyes he was pulling as he spoke. “Okay, I’ll call Sam now. Leave it with me.”
“Thanks Buck.”
Steve cut the call and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, running a hand over his beard. Buck was right, it was a big ask and ridiculously over the top but, well, nothing was too much for him where his family was concerned. And after everything they’d been through this year what with Flossie’s horrific birth and Katie’s post-partum depression, his amazingly brave and gorgeous wife deserved the damned world. With a sigh he yanked open the fridge as he pulled out Katie’s wine and a beer for him, simply hoping that it worked.
**** “You good?” Steve asked as Jamie hopped into the back of the Q7, taking his place on the rear row of seats.
“Yup.” Jamie grinned “I prefer it back here, Rori can’t bug me.”
“Wanna bet?” Rori turned her head and peered at him from her place in the middle of the second row and Steve shot her a look.
“Enough. I hear one sound outta you that’s annoying him, we’re coming straight home.” He said sternly. Rori eyed him shrewdly, as if weighing up whether he was serious or not and he raised his eyebrows, challenging her.
“Ok Daddy.” She shrugged, turning back round. Steve shot Jamie a wink as turned and collapsed Flossie’s little stroller. He slotted it down the side of Jamie’s seat before he shut the trunk and then quickly inspected the roof rack. Satisfied he looked up just as Katie came out of the house, Flossie on her hip, Harry jumping down the steps in front of her. He headed over to his dad and peeked up, Steve giving a laugh as his little woollen hat slipped down over his eyes.
“Come here, buddy.” He said, swinging him into his arms. The little boy gave a giggle as Steve pulled his hat straight so he could see.
“Thanks Daddy!” he smiled and Steve pressed a kiss to his rosy cheek.
“No problem. You ready to get a tree?”
He nodded “Big one!” he threw his arms out wide and Steve nodded seriously.
“The biggest.”
Ten minutes or so later they were sailing out of Brooklyn in the winter morning sun, heading for the tree farm some forty or so minutes away. True to her word, Rori was behaving and chatting to Harry, Jamie was quiet in the back doing something on his tablet and Katie was gently humming to something on the radio. Steve’s hand reached over for hers and he entwined their fingers, gently bringing her arm across his body, pressing a kiss to her wrist.
The journey pass uneventfully and as Steve announced they had arrived the kids all gave a cheer. He parked the car up and then the disembarking began along with issued orders for Jamie and Rori to stay where they were as they sorted the youngest two.
“I think I’ll just carry Floss.” Katie glanced around. “Pushing her stroller is gonna be a pain. I’ll put her in the carrier.”
“You sure?” Steve asked “I would say I’d do it but…”
“You’re gonna be carrying trees, yeah I know.” Katie waved him away. “Its fine, she’s not heavy. Besides, she’ll be too big to do this with next year.”
Steve smiled at her wistful tone, and between them they had Flossie strapped to Katie’s back in no time, having become experts at it over the years. Katie glanced over her shoulder as Flossie gave her a hug grin, before she peeked around and started to gabble animatedly.
“Ready?” Steve looked around and held the hand that wasn’t containing the saw out, Rori taking it as Katie took Harry’s, Jamie falling into step at her other side next to Steve who strategically placed himself between his eldest son and Rori to avoid any potential arguments between the two siblings.
“Want me to take that Dad?” Jamie asked, nodding to the saw. Steve hesitated then shrugged, it had the safety cover on so he handed it over, Jamie slinging it over his shoulder proudly, stepping in front of them a little and Harry wriggled his hand free of Katie’s and ran forward to take Jamie’s. Jamie smiled down at him and Steve shared a glance with Katie as she smiled at him, slipping her hand into his. The family made their way to the entrance and as they approached the various little trade stands, one of which was selling various hot drinks and baked snacks. Katie took a deep breath and smiled, the warming scents of spices, cinnamon and pine hitting her nostrils.
“Smells exactly the same.” She beamed and then frowned as Steve was looking around, blatantly not listening to her as he was busy studying something to their right.
“Hey!” she tugged on his hand and he glanced down at her.
“Sorry, honey.” He diverted his attention “Just saw someone I know.”
“Oh, from work?” she asked.
“Not exactly.” He nodded in the direction he had been looking and Katie spun at the same time Rori let out a shriek.
“Emmy!” she yelled, wrenching her hand free of Steve’s and bolting towards her sister as she strode towards them alongside Peter, Bucky and Sam.
“I don’t-how?” Katie was struggling for words at the sheer emotion of seeing her eldest daughter, who should still be stranded in England, sweeping Rori into hug. “Steve? What?”
“You got Bucky and Sam to thank.” He said gently, as she spun between them all, before she strode forward meeting Emmy halfway and throwing her arms around her.
“Hey mom!” Emmy smiled, before she pulled back and gently waggled Flossie’s hand. “Hi Floss!”
“How did you get here?” Katie sniffed, wiping her eyes, chuckling before she gave Pete a hug.
“Quinjet.” Emmy grinned “It was awesome. Hey Dad!”
“Hey, sweetheart.” Steve swept her up into a huge hug, picking her up slightly off the ground kissing her head. “Nice to have you home.”
“Hold up, a Quinjet?” Katie looked at Emmy, then to Bucky who shrugged.
“Yeah well Steve rang me last night begging for my help…” he began, putting on a whiney voice “Please Buck, I can’t do this without you Buck, you know the usual.” Steve rolled his eyes as Bucky sniggered. “So, me and Birdbrain set off on a daring rescue mission.”
“Yeah, we totally used and abused Fury’s equipment.” Sam chuckled, as he pressed a kiss to Katie’s cheek as he gave her a hug. “He’s gonna be pissed when he finds out.”
“Oh, screw him!” Katie gave a laugh as she turned to Bucky, wrapping her arms round him. “Thank you so much!”
“Anything for you darlin’” he beamed before she stepped back and spun to face Steve, reaching up and grabbing his face. With a smile she pulled him down to meet her in a long, deep kiss.
“Thank you.” She whispered against his lips, and he beamed at her, his nose brushing hers. “I love you, so much.”
“Love you too.” He smiled, before he drew himself up, a little embarrassed at their PDA in front of his two friends and the kids. “Right, who’s ready to go tree picking?”
“We’ll leave you to it.” Bucky smirked as various excited shouts rang out around them. “I’ve got stuff to do with Jen and Sam’s…ahhhh, crap.” The smile on his face turned into a grimace and Steve spun round to see a familiar figure in a trench coat and eyepatch stood by a black SUV watching from a distance.
“Son of a-” Steve snorted, shaking his head as Fury started walking towards of them. “He still knows everything.”
“You have no idea. “Sam muttered.
“Oh, trust me, we do.” Katie grinned as Fury stopped in front of them.
“Someone wanna tell me why one of my jets was in London this morning?” Fury looked at Bucky, then to Sam, then to Peter, all three of them giving him an innocent look.
“Well, there was a thing.” Bucky shrugged “Emergency.”
“Emergency.” Fury dead panned “So nothing to do with a certain Miss Rogers and Mr Parker being stuck in London in snow storm?”
“How do you know this stuff?” Bucky looked at him.
“I told you Barnes, you wanna get one up on me you gotta keep both eyes open.” He levelled him with a look. “Happy called me in a flap to see if I could action a pick up and I told him I wasn’t running a damned Uber service. And then one of them went missing so I put two and two together and looks like I came up with four” He paused and shrugged, smirking a little “Plus, you forgot to wipe the mission log.”
“Damned it Tin Man!” Sam shoved Bucky “You dick, I told you!”
As the two men began to squabble Fury raised his eyebrows and turned to Steve and then Katie, a small smile flickered across his face “Nova, Cap. Long-time no see.”
“Hi Nick.” Steve smiled, reaching out and shaking his hand.
Fury jerked his head as Katie shook his hand, his eyes roving over each of their kids in turn. “I’ll say. You’ve been busy I see.”
Katie gave a huff “One way of putting it.”
Nick arched an eyebrow before he sighed and turned to Bucky and Sam who were still bickering. “Imma let this one slide.” He spoke loudly, the two men instantly turning to face him. “But only because it’s the holidays and I’m in a good mood.”
“You know technically Stark Industries owns half those jets. Tony paid for and designed a lot of the tech on them after all.” Katie quipped and Nick looked at her, before he let out a laugh.
“You’re more like your brother than you’ll ever care to admit” he shook his head as she snorted, pointing at her.
“Worse people to be like.” She smiled fondly, and Fury gave one last scoff before he turned to Sam and Bucky.
“I’ll see you two later. Now, imma go get me some churros then split.” He looked back at them all “Merry Christmas.”
As they all waved him off, watching the curious glances he attracted as he strode towards the hot food stand and then Harry tugged on Steve’s sleeve, causing him to turn his attention from Fury to the little boy.
“Daddy, who’s the pirate?” Harry asked.
There was a pause before Katie burst out laughing, Steve following suite as they both shared a knowing glance, remembering Tony’s fond little nickname for their one time director.
The Goth Pirate.
“He’s an old friend of mine and your momma’s “Steve explained before he glanced up, not surprised to find that once more Fury had disappeared from sight. “We haven’t seen him in a while. And I doubt we will again for a long time.”
There were more hugs shared and after another final thank you to Sam and Bucky, Katie demanding they come over later for drinks, the four remaining adults and four kids all headed into the farm and the chaos began as they began to scout for their perfect trees.
“So we need two large ones.” Katie spoke, “And one for Emmy and Pete in the Cabin and a smaller one for Rori’s room.” she paused “Jamie, did you want one for your room too?”
“Nah, it’s okay.” He shook his head “Thanks though.”
“So four over all.” Steve nodded. “Okay gang, let’s find us some trees.”
They decided to get Rori’s first as it would be smaller and easier to carry once they’d picked it. They set about walking down the various aisles, and before long the jokes started flowing and they were getting worse and worse with time.
“What would you get if you ate the Christmas decorations?” Pete asked and Jamie looked at him, arching a brow. “Tinselitis.”
“Oh God.” Emmy snorted “That’s as bad as one of dad’s”
“Which reminds me.” Steve said, a smirk on his face, “Did you guys hear the forecast for Christmas eve? They’re predicting rain, deer…”
Katie and Emmy both let out a groan as Jamie and Peter howled with laughter.
“What do you call an elf that runs away from Santa’s workshop?” Jamie asked and Steve paused before he shrugged.
“No idea.”
“A rebel without a Clause…”
Katie, Steve, Emmy and Pete burst out laughing as Pete held out his hand to hi-five him. Jamie grinned.
“That’s a good one buddy.” Steve chuckled. “Where did you hear that?”
“Moo text me before.” He smiled “She said her and Auntie Pep had been googling them to put in their cards this year.”
“Like Father like daughter.” Katie smiled to herself, a little nostalgically as a memory of her brother crashed over her and Steve pulled her a little closer, his hand tightening on hers as he dropped a kiss to her head.
After half an hour or so of scouting and plenty of excited shouts and laughter, Rori paused in front of a tree that was the same height as her and she gave a gasp.
“Daddy, that one.” She pointed.
“You sure?” he cocked his head to one side. The tree was leaning to one side, the branches completely uneven, sticking out at all angles and the top was bent. “It’s a bit-”
“It’s perfect.” Rori insisted.
“Okay Princess, whatever you say.” He looked at Katie as she smiled, her hand dropping to the back of Rori’s head. “Jamie, you got the saw?”
“Yup.” Jamie nodded, passing it over and they all watched as Steve gripped the trunk of the small tree with one hand a little higher up and began to cut it towards the bottom. He could have easily snapped the trunk with his bare hands but he played the part and in four strong swipes it pulled free with a little crack and Rori gave a shriek and clapped her hands.
“I love it!”
Once the safety cover was back on the saw they continued their search, walking towards the slightly bigger trees they spotted and Katie paused in front of a large, Norwegian spruce and reached out, gently crushing one of the needles between her fingers. She took a sniff and stepped back, nodding.
“That one.”
“I still can’t believe you pick them with the smell.” Steve shook his head.
“It’s not all the smell.” She protested “There’s a lot to consider. The height, width and spacing of the branches…this one’s just right for the corner in the lounge. And that one two down will do for the hallway.”
Steve chuckled, knowing better than to argue. “Positive?”
Katie nodded and once more Jamie passed him the saw. This time they all stepped back as Steve crouched down on the ground, expertly cutting the trunk and just the right place. As he took the final swipe, the tree pitched over to a loud shout of “Timberrrrr” from Jamie and Peter and it landed with a thud.
Harry gave a loud cackle and clapped, Flossie shrieking too as Steve then moved two down and repeated the action with a slightly smaller one that would sit in the entrance lounge directly in front of the photo of the pair of them at their wedding, so it would be the first thing anyone saw as they walked into the house.
Emmy strode past the tree to one that was behind it and then nodded to Pete “I think this one will do. I kinda like the way it fans out at the bottom.”
“Sure, Em.” He smiled “Mr R?”
“Oh, here.” Steve handed him the saw and watched as Pete cut his and Emmy’s first Christmas tree down, his arm round Katie’s waist, lips softly kissing Flossie’s cheek as the baby grinned. He arched an eyebrow as Emmy pressed a kiss to Pete’s lips, giving a soft huff as Katie dug him in the ribs, shooting him a warning glance which he returned with an innocent one of his own.
“Well, that was easy.” Emmy commented “It took us 2 hours last year.”
“They need to be right.” Katie shrugged simply, Steve and Emmy exchanging a look before Steve watched as Pete hoisted his tree easily onto his shoulder. It still surprised Steve how strong Peter was, even though it shouldn’t, he knew he was enhanced after all.
“I’ll take Rori’s, Dad.” Jamie stepped forwards, puffing his chest out a little, picking the smaller tree up easily and placing it on his shoulder, in an identical manner to Pete. Steve actively fought the urge to laugh as Jamie began to walk besides Peter and Emmy, clearly proud as punch at being able to help before he turned to Katie.
“Don’t say it.”
Katie laughed “Oh I’m gonna.” she smirked “If he was any more like you I’d be convinced he was a clone.”
Steve snorted as he bent down and easily lifted their two trees onto his shoulders, before they followed a little slower due to Harry being with them. Steve maneuvered around the other tree pickers as they went, his boot clad feet traipsing on the damp of the ground as they made their way back towards the main entrance and joined Pete, Emmy and Jamie at the place ready to pay. As the various helpers, all dressed in little Elf outfits bustled around to wrap their trees and strap them to the roof of the Audi, Katie was suddenly struck with a little problem.
“Hang on.” she turned to Emmy as she thanked the man who’d been dealing with and handed over the cash. “How are you two gonna get home if Bucky and Sam left?”
At that Pete gave a little grin and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, “Mr Wilson let me borrow his Chevvy.”
“Yeah they went home on Buck’s bike.” Emmy shrugged and at that Steve let out a huge laugh.
“What?” Katie asked.
“Sorry, I’m just picturing those two riding pillion.” He snorted “I give it five minutes before Sam ended up tells Buck to let him off on account of him driving his Ducatti like a maniac.”
“You’ve no room to talk.” Katie scoffed and Steve looked at her with mock outrage.
“Mom?” Jamie asked and Katie turned to him “Can we get a drink now please?”
“Sure, come on.” She smiled and they headed over to the stall. She purchased a hot cider each for her, Steve, Emmy and Pete before hot chocolate for each of the kids along with a selection of donuts, churros and Stollen as Steve took Flossie back to the car so they could pop her in the stroller. They made their way over to one of the benches by the side and sat down and Steve returned, parking Flossie besides them before he handed her a piece of a donut and slipped his arm round Katie, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“You have a good time?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She beamed, before she glanced over at the other side of the bench. Jamie was settled to Emmy’s left, talking to her about school, as she nodded along whilst Rori was perched on Peter’s knee as she animatedly told him about how she was going to decorate her tree in unicorn colours. Harry meanwhile sat in between both Pete and Emmy, his little frame chewing on a donut as he grinned at his parents who smiled back. Katie turned to look a Steve again, leaning up to kiss him softly “It’s been perfect, thank you for making sure we were all together.”
“Well it wouldn’t be a Rogers Christmas otherwise would it?” he smiled, kissing her again.
“Get a room.” Emmy grumbled and Steve turned to her as she smirked, shoving a piece of donut in her mouth.
“Watch it young lady.” Steve pointed at her.
“Daddy.” Rori asked “Can I go with Pete in their car to Target? I need decorations for my Princess Tree.”
Steve hesitated for a while and Pete hastily cut in “It’s no bother Mr Rogers.”
“Yeah we need some for ours.” Emmy nodded.”So we’re going anyway.”
“I come too?” Harry asked hopefully and Emmy shrugged
“If Momma and Daddy say it’s ok, course you can, squirt.”
Steve looked at Katie who shrugged “Fine by me. Sure you can manage them?”
Emmy rolled her eyes “They’re no bother.” She then turned to Jamie “You wanna come too?”
“Hell no.” he said hastily, peering round at Rori before he shook his head “I’m going home for some peace and quiet.”
Both Steve and Katie let out a loud laugh, as Katie shook her head “Oh Jamie.”
“What?” he frowned.
“Nothing pal.” Steve smiled, reaching for his cider. “Nothing at all.”
#ssholidaychallenge #sageandsweater
#ssholidaychallenge#sageandsweater#stark spangled forever#steve rogers#katie stark#steve rogers x original female character#steve rogers fan fiction#mcu fanfiction#stark spangled#chris evans#chris evans characters
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FYI: Gilmore Girls spoilers in this post
It’s 2 am and I can’t sleep, so I’ve been thinking a lot about how Amy Sherman-Palladino actually wanted to end season 7 of Gilmore Girls (the way the revival ended) if she were still writing for it. I’m also thinking about how AYITL revival would of been different (and probably better) if season 7 ended the way it should of.
I was very shocked to read when ASP said she wanted Rory to get pregnant right after graduating, but now I feel like Rory getting pregnant post college would of actually humbled her a lot and she would of gone back to who she really was pre-Logan (I do NOT like how Rory was when she was with him, sorry). Now I’m imaging how the story would be if the revival was still released 10 years after the original finale.
Rory would have a 10 year old child and she would be living very close to Lorelai and Luke (who are obviously still together), I don’t know if it would be too cliche she lives in Stars Hollow (as I’d like her to be), but she would be close. Rory would actually have a great career as a journalist (unlike in the revival we got), as Lorelai and Luke would happily watch their grandchild while she travels. I don’t think Rory would overwork herself and never be there, because ASP’s whole narrative is “like mother, like daughter” so Rory would be as great as a mom as Lorelai. Logan is Rory’s Christopher, so I don’t think they would be together (he’d still be in London) and I don’t think he’d be as present as he should be (like Christopher). Logan would provide financially for Rory and his child but the visits would be minimal. Now, what makes me happy, is Jess is meant to be Rory’s Luke. I feel like Jess would visit Stars Hollow A LOT and grow very close with Rory’s child. Jess and Luke would be more of a father figure than Logan (cause again, he’s Christopher). I feel eventually in this revival, Jess would choose to settle down in a quiet area (hint hint, close to Rory and Luke) where he can focus on his writing and writing novels and such. Rory and Jess have always had a connection, but Jess being local and present all the time would have him and Rory get closer than ever. In my imaginative fantasy, this would finally put Jess and Rory together forever, where they could live happily ever after (like Lorelai and Luke).
Like many of you, I’ve always felt Jess and Rory were together way too young, and they would be perfect once Jess grew up and out of his rebellious phase (which he did). Jess has always grounded Rory and reminded her who she really is, which she would eventually realize. I feel this is maybe the ending ASP had in mind, in the years after the finale, that she wanted to create. I don’t know if I’m just biased, but this scenario would of been so much better than what we got (not ASP’s fault, as season 7 was not her creation at all).
If you read this whole thing, you’re an MVP. Thanks for coming to my 2am GG Ted Talk.
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Stark Spangled Forever
A Very Rogers Christmas Part 1- The Best Things In Life Are Tree
Summary: It’s that time of year again and the Rogers family prepare to go and pick their Christmas tree. But when Emmy calls with a bit of bad news, it puts a little downer on the whole thing for Katie and Steve decides to call in reinforcements to pull off the best Christmas Heist he can…
Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark
A/N: So here we go, Part 1 of my Stark Spangled 2020 Christmas special- A Very Rogers Christmas. This one was written for For @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @sagechanoafterdark ‘s Winter/Holiday Challenge.
Prompt- Finding the PERFECT Tree.
"Daddy, I found something else I want to ask Santa for, for Christmas." Rori bounced into the study and Steve closed his eyes on the papers he was trying to grade and sighed. "I bet you have." He mumbled before he glanced up at his daughter and couldn't help but smile at her as she skipped over to him, her long pony tail swinging behind her "What is it, Princess?" "A capybara." she said, scrambling up onto his lap. "A what?" Steve frowned. "A capybara. Look!" she turned the tablet she was holding towards him to show him a picture of the brown animal "They're like huge guinea pigs. I saw one at the zoo with Uncle Buck yesterday and when I said I wanted one he told me to tell you that I was gonna ask Santa." "Course he did." Steve sighed, mentally cursing his asshole best friend. "You know, Rori, don't think Santa can get you one of those." "Why not?" "It’s too big." He attempted “There’s nowhere for us to keep it.” "Our garden is huge!" Rori blinked at him. "And when Emmy and Petey move into the Tower he can live in the cabin." Trust her to be as damned smart as her mother. "They're wild animals honey." Steve shook his head as he tried attempt number two. "But they live in a zoo." Rori looked up at him, her face full of eager excitement “That’s not the wild.” "Yeah but that’s different." Steve reasoned patiently. "They're not like dogs or cats or regular guinea pigs. They need very special care.” "Oh." Rori looked down a little, her shoulders slumping and Steve sighed.
Fuck you, Bucky.
"Okay. Never mind." She clicked off the screen of her tablet and turned towards Steve, looking up at him with those damned green eyes. "Do you think he could get me a kitty instead?"
No, just say no… "Maybe."
Way to go, Rogers. Rori's eyes lit up and Steve inwardly groaned. It was a well-known fact in their house that whenever Dad said maybe, it meant yes. Fuck.
“I love you Daddy!” she beamed, reaching up to press a kiss to his bearded cheek before she hopped off his lap and skipped towards the door “Oh, me and momma are going to make gingerbread men for tomorrow so we can have them when we decorate the tree.”
“Can’t wait baby.” He smiled
“Are you gonna be working tomorrow afternoon?” she asked a little shyly and he shook his head.
“No, I promise.” He assured her. “All day tomorrow is family day.”
She gave him another huge smile, one that truly warmed his entire being as it made her look even more like his wife, and then headed out of the room, her feet pattering on the tiles of the hallway as she skipped back into the other part of the house. Steve exhaled and looked back down at the paper, groaning as he realised he’d lost his place. He’d been home early that afternoon hoping for more peace and quiet than he got in his office at the University to concentrate on getting through all these and for the most it had worked, until Jamie and Rori had arrived home from school full of it as usual. Katie had kept them out of his way for the most but the realisation that Christmas was well on the way had hit the eldest two and whipped them up into a fever.
Not that Steve particularly cared. He adored this time of year. It was Katie’s holiday and from the day after Thanksgiving the Christmas period started in full throttle in the Rogers household, and they’d picked tomorrow, 2 weeks before the schools broke up, to go and pick the trees for their lounge and hallway. He was a little disappointed that it hadn’t snowed yet, there had been a good covering the previous year but, still it was set to be a cold and dry day so they could still get bundled up and have their hot chocolate and snacks as usual.
He rubbed at his eyes and focussed, reading through the paper in front of him on the ‘Strategy, Diplomacy and politics of Axis and Allied forces in WW2’, wishing to God he was marking something on the course he was actually employed to teach now- Fine Arts- but all those had been done and graded last week. This was the module of History that he taught, because as the Uni said- he was a living, breathing expert.
Aparently.
An hour or so later he finished red-penning the final six paged essay, with a proud smile as that one had been particularly good and he quickly checked it over once more, making sure he’d captured all the notes on the electronic copy and queued it up to send on Monday, just like Katie had shown him how to, so that each student had the hard copy and soft copy back. He stood up, stretched, turned off his laptop and headed through to the main area of the house, the smell of baking and cooking hitting his nostrils as he went.
He walked into the kitchen to find Rori kneeling on one of the tall stools over the island-slash-breakfast bar, her hands and face smeared in pink icing as she decorated a gingerbread man, her little tongue poking out of the side of her mouth in concentration. Katie was stood supervising Harry who was also covered in frosting, this one bright green. Flossie sat in the highchair opposite, banging a spoon on the tray occasionally letting out a yell or babble of something incoherent. As soon as she saw Steve she gave a huge grin and her shouts became louder and he smiled.
“Hi Floss-Floss!” he beamed, crossing to drop a kiss to her head before he looked across at Katie “Where’s Jamie?”
“Upstairs in his room.” Katie gave a little sigh “He said, and I quote, ‘I’m ten now, far too old to decorate gingerbread, mom.’ I could have cried there and then Steve.” She finished with a pout.
Steve gave her a sympathetic smile, the fact her eldest baby boy was growing up was something he knew she hated “Yeah, I bet he won’t be too old to eat them, though.” He appeased and she smiled.
“That’s what I said.” Rori gave a dramatic roll of her eyes and Steve chuckled.
“You finished Grading?” Katie asked as she gently guided Harry’s hand over the cookie shaped like a Christmas tree.
“Yeah, all done. Sorry it took so long.”
“It’s okay.” She looked up at him, smiling “Your dinner is in the oven. I already ate with the kids. Sorry, I was starving.”
“I didn’t expect you to wait.” Steve walked over the room and dropped a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”
He made his way over to the Aga stove and opened the door, giving a little groan when he saw she’d done his favourite, a Mac and Cheese bake laced with chicken, chorizo and broccoli. He turned to look at her and didn’t miss the flicker of a smile on her face as she knew what he was thinking, before he pulled out the plate giving a yell as it burnt his fingers, dropping it onto the side with a clatter.
“Careful daddy, hot!” Harry turned to face him, and Katie burst out laughing.
“Yeah, thanks Son.” Steve tried not to roll his eyes as he sucked his thumb. Grabbing a tea-towel he gripped the plate, found some cutlery and sat down at the table to the side of the kitchen, tucking in.
“I finished all mine, Momma.” Rori grinned, placing the tube of squeezy frosting down on the side. Steve watched as Katie moved to look over Rori’s shoulder.
“Good job sweetie.” She smiled, “Creative, I’ve never seen a pink cat before.”
Steve paused and looked at Rori as she grinned “I know they’re not really pink, and my kitty won’t be, but it can have a pink collar.”
At that he winced and hastily shoved another forkful of food into his mouth, praying that the conversation stopped there.
Katie sighed “Rori we’ve been over this, you can’t have a cat.”
“Daddy said I could.”
Shit.
Katie’s eyes shot to Steve and he gave her his best innocent look, but from the way her features grew stern he knew he was utterly busted and he swallowed the food in his mouth which turned to cement in his throat.
“No, that’s not what I said.” Steve shook his head.
“You said maybe.” Rori shrugged “Same thing.”
“We getting a kitty?” Harry asked, looking at Katie.
“No.” she shook her head.
“But I asked Daddy if Santa would bring me one and he said maybe.” Rori looked at Katie.
“Well Daddy is wrong.” She glared at Steve and he visibly shrank in his seat. Katie’s green eyes narrowed before they turned back to Rori. “Santa can’t bring live animals. It’s in the rules.”
“What rules?”
“The Christmas Rules” Katie said quickly “No live animals. It’s not fair on them. They don’t like the sleigh.”
“But…”
“No buts Rori.” Katie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose “I’m sorry honey, but it’s not gonna happen.”
Rori pouted a little but she knew when she was beat and glanced down at the cookies on the tray before she looked up, grinning smugly. “I’ll just ask Uncle Bucky to get me one. He got me Dory.”
“Oh for the love of…” Katie spluttered “Uncle Bucky won’t get you one either.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll tell him not to.” Katie looked at her “We have Stark. No more animals.”
Rori folded her arms and at that point Steve stepped in, sensing an impending tantrum.
“Aurora.” He said sternly and she turned her head to face him as he pointed his fork at her. “Enough.”
She glared at him before she sighed and looked at Katie “Can I get down now please?”
Katie obliged and pulled her stool out a little allowing Rori to hop down. “Stay right there little miss.”
“Why?” Rori frowned as Katie headed to the sink, coming back with a cloth. With a groan, Rori held out her hands so Katie could wipe them clean, along with the little smear of icing on her face “20 minutes and then its bath time. We’re up early in the morning.”
“Ooh, yeah!” Rori bounced excitedly “To pick our trees. Hey, can I get one for my room?”
Katie hesitated before she shrugged “You know, I saw some in the shop that already have the lights on and they change colour. We’ll get a big one for the lounge and hallway like normal and I’ll get you a special one. And you get to keep it for next year and the year after.”
Rori pondered this for a moment before she shook her head “I want a real one from the farm.”
Katie groaned, and threw her hands out to the side “Fine, just, go and watch TV or something in the Play Room.”
“I watch TV too please, Momma?” Harry asked and Katie nodded, cleaning him up too before she lifted him down off the stool. He toddled after Rori, yelling for her to wait and as soon as they were gone Katie rounded on Steve.
“Honey, I…” he began and winced as she exploded on him.
“Seriously? A damned cat?”
“She caught me unawares.”
“She always catches you unawares!” Katie scoffed “After six, almost seven years I’d have thought you’d be used it by now.”
“I only said-“
“And as usual I’m left to be the bad guy.” Katie ranted, shaking her head as she moved to turn Flossie’s chair so she was facing the table. “You’re an asshole.”
“This is technically Bucky’s fault.”
“Oh, no, Steven Grant Rogers! Don’t you are try and blame this one on Buck.” She hissed.
“But he took her to the zoo and told her to ask for a capybara!” Steve practically whined “When I said no she asked for a cat, the maybe just slipped out.” Katie paused, her arms folded, face furious and Steve peered up at her giving her a little smile “Don’t be mad, come on baby. I didn’t mean it.”
“You’re still an asshole.” She grumbled, before she crossed to the fridge and pulled out the wine. “And for that you can deal with bedtime. I’m going for a bath.”
“Sure, not a problem.” Steve nodded, swallowing more of his food. Katie poured herself a large glass before she moved to put the bottle back and then changed her mind. With the bottle in one hand, full glass in the other she made for the door. “I love you.” Steve shot as she passed him, and despite her annoyed demeanour, the slight smile that played on her face told him he wasn’t in too much trouble.
****
All kids were bathed and in bed little over an hour later. The youngest three settled down to sleep, Jamie instructed he had an hour of TV or reading time before lights off.
“Ok Dad.” He nodded, running his hand through his hair as he tidied up his games console a little, Stark curled up on the bed.
“I’ll be in to check.” Steve looked at him, and Jamie rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, I got it. You can trust me.”
“I know.” Steve gave a chuckle “Night son.” He crossed the room to drop a kiss to his head and Jamie pushed him away.
“Gerroff, I’m ten.”
“Yeah, well, you’re still my kid so…” Steve grumbled, and Jamie burst into laughter as the pair of them began to play fight, Jamie digging Steve in the ribs with a well-aimed jab. “Ouch! “ Steve stood up, rubbing at his side, that had hurt a little too much for his liking. “Nice shot.”
“Bucky said I had a good right hook.”
Steve rolled his eyes “I don’t wanna know how he even found that out.”
“He has a punch bag in the garage.” Jamie shrugged as he flopped down onto his bed. “Like yours. He was teaching me to swing.”
“I could teach you that.” Steve replied, a little petulantly.
“Will you?”
“No. You’re ten.” He shot back and Jamie let out a groan of frustration, before Steve chuckled “Ok, I’ll teach you a little IF you promise not to use it anywhere but on the punch bag.”
“But what if I need to use it?”
“Well, that’s different.” Steve pondered, before he shook his head. “But you’re far too young to be getting into situations like that.”
“Uncle Buck said you were fighting people form the age of six. And getting your ass kicked.”
“Well, you do as I say…”
“Not as I do, yeah I got it.” Jamie grinned and Steve arched an eyebrow before he made his way to the door. He paused and turned back to look at his son, not for the first time taking in how damned tall and broad he was for his age. He pointed to Stark “Don’t let your mother catch him on the bed.”
“You know she says the same thing about you.” Jamie looked at him and Steve chuckled.
“I do, but let’s just pretend I don’t okay?”
“Okay, night dad. Love you.”
“Love you too.” Steve smiled, closing the door behind him.
He made his way back downstairs and into the lounge, and paused as he saw Katie talking into the laptop, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Don’t worry about it.” She said softly, and he could tell she was fighting to keep her face straight as Emmy’s voice came from the other side.
“I’m just gutted we can’t get home to come with you guys for the tree.”
“What’s going on?” Steve frowned as he sat next to Katie on the sofa, looking at Emmy and Peter as they both waved to him on the screen “Hey Kids.”
“The UK has been caught up in a huge snow storm.” Katie turned to him. “Their flight has been cancelled.”
“Bummer.” Steve’s frown deepened “Is there nothing from another airport?”
“Not in London.” Emmy shook her head “And the roads are that bad, even if we managed somewhere else…”
“Don’t wanna risk driving Mr R.” Pete shrugged and Steve had to give it to him, that was a sensible move.
“Wise decision.” Steve bit his lip, before he turned to Katie “Can we not get The Stark jet over? You guys should have used that anyway, not gone commercial.”
The irony of his statement didn’t pass him by, as there’d been a time when he had hated using a private jet as he felt it was ostentatious, but he’d fast learned to live with it as it was less hassle and a damned sight comfier and quicker too.
“I told you we didn’t want to.” Emmy shot back and Peter hastily cut in to prevent an argument.
“Already tried Happy before we called. He can’t get in any airfield be it private or other. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Katie shook her head “If you need anything just call. Have you got a place to stay?”
“Yeah, The Savoy found us another room.” Emmy shrugged before she grimaced “I’m gonna have to put it on my credit card though.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Katie shook her head “Just do what you gotta do, we’ll sort the bill out. Do you need us to wire you some cash or-“
“No, we’ve got enough between us for that.” Pete smiled “Just the hotel. We could get somewhere cheaper if that’s-“
“If it’s that bad out there you can stay where you are.” Steve shook his head. “Don’t worry about the money kids, it’s not important.”
“Just call us if you need anything.” Katie added.
“Thanks Mom. Look, we’re gonna go try and get something to eat and then sleep” Emmy sighed “It’s past 1 am now.”
“Sure, call us tomorrow okay, keep us updated.” Steve instructed and Emmy nodded.
“Will do. Love you both.”
“And you.” Katie smiled “Stay safe, and look after each other.”
“Got it.” Emmy grinned and with that she blew them both a kiss as Peter waved and the screen went blank.
Katie bit her lip before she tapped at the keyboard of her laptop “I’m going to send her some money, just in case. I know she has plenty in her savings, but…”
Steve nodded “Good idea. Those are for a rainy day, not a snowy one.”
Katie gave a small smile as she logged into the banking, and hesitated before she transferred a few thousand over to Emmy and closed the laptop, running her hands over her face. Steve saw her shouldes shake and he gave a sigh, pulling her to him.
“Hey, come on. They’re safe. In the poshest hotel known to man.” He pressed a kiss to her head “No doubt thinking this is some kind of huge romantic adventure. Snowed in, in London, with a mini-bar, room service.”
At that thought he grimaced, as his mind took him to a very dark place about just exactly what the spider kid would be doing to his daughter in said hotel room but he shook himself out of it as Katie spoke, sniffling a little.
“I know it’s just, well we started this tradition with Emmy that first Christmas she lived with us.” Her voice cracked “We went with Tony, Pep and Nat remember?”
“I could I forget.” Steve chuckled, his hands rubbing Katie’s back “You were almost five months pregnant and had that jumper on with a huge Christmas pudding on the front.”
“I’ve still got that.” Her voice was muffled as her face pressed into his Henley.
“And Pepper was going mad when Tony bought that nine foot tree for their lounge.”
“Ours wasn’t much smaller.” Katie laughed, leaning back to wipe her eyes. “You had to trim the top off.”
Steve chuckled, his hands cupping her face “A few days after that we found out bump was blue. Hello Jamie.”
“God it seems so long ago.”
“It was.” Steve smiled pressing a kiss to her lips. “11 years.”
“Yeah.” Katie looked at him “We’ve been through a lot since then.”
Steve nodded, as he wiped her face with his thumbs “And a lot worse than this. I know it’s disappointing, kitten, and I’m gutted as well, but it can’t be helped. We’ll still have a good time and we can go out with Emmy and Peter when they get back, nice meal and a few drinks somewhere instead, just the four of us. Start a new tradition now she’s all grown up.”
“Yeah suppose.” Katie sighed “I mean when they moved out in the New Year, they might not wanna come with us to get a tree anymore.”
“Like that’s gonna happen.” Steve snorted “She’ll simply be getting one for her own place. You know she loves Christmas as much as you. All the kids do. Because you make it so special.”
“It isn’t all down to me.” She smiled “You help.”
“It’s definitely your speciality.” Steve shook his head “You do the baking, the carols, the cooking…suss the decorations out.”
“Yeah, but you hang them. And you’re the one that started leaving Santa footprints by the hearth.”
“Okay so it’s a team effort.” Steve shrugged, dropping another kiss to her lips. “It always is when the kids are concerned.” He pulled back a little and nodded to her glass “You want another?”
“I wasn’t going to but yeah, now I do.”
Steve chuckled “I’ll go get us a drink, you find us something suitably Christmassy to watch.”
He stood, pressing his lips to the crown of Katie’s head before he wandered into the kitchen. As he closed the door behind him he pulled out his phone. He’d had an idea, but hadn’t wanted to mention it to Katie just in case it didn’t work…but if it did, well, he was going to reunite his family for their tradition and earn himself major husband points.
Win win situation.
“Hey punk.” Bucky drawled as he picked up.“What’s crackalackin?”
“God you talk some shit.” Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky laughed
“Sorry, we were watching Madagascar.”
“Yeah, I know where it’s from. I got five kids, remember. Six if I count you.”
“Well you could argue Diva Doll counts for two so you really have seven.”
“Yeah, speaking of which, I got a bone to pick with you about her and a damned capybara.” Steve narrowed his eyes as he spoke and there was a pause before Bucky burst out laughing. “Yeah, laugh it up, jerk. That got me in some major shit before.”
“You didn’t say yes?”
“No of course I didn’t.” Steve sighed “But she sideswiped me asking for a damned cat and I said maybe, so…”
“You fucking moron.”
“Whatever, listen, that’s not why I’m calling anyway.” Steve sighed, his voice growing serious. “I need a favour, Buck.”
“I’m listening.” Bucky replied, before Steve explained the predicament and possible solution. When he finished there was a pause and Bucky let out a long whistle. “Man, that’s…”
“I know, I know.” Steve sighed “But I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. Katie’s heartbroken Emmy can’t get home.”
“Well, we can’t have the second most important woman in my life upset now can we?” Bucky replied “Leave it with me.”
“Cheers buddy.”
“You’ll owe me a life time of favours if I can pull this off.”
“We’ll call it quits for you almost getting me couched.”
“Not my fault you can’t say no to your likkle Princessa.” Bucky responded and Steve snorted.
“You’ve met her, right?”
There as another pause and Bucky laughed “Point taken.”
“Not a word to Katie.” Steve instructed “Just in case you can’t do it.”
“You seriously doubt me after all this time?” Bucky sighed “That hurts Stevie.”
“You know what else will hurt?” Steve shot back “My foot up your ass.”
“You want me to do this or not?” Bucky scoffed “Because threatening me aint gonna make me wanna do you any favours.”
“No but not wanting to see my wife upset is.”
“You fight dirty, Steven.” Bucky’s voice was low and Steve could imagine the narrowed eyes he was pulling as he spoke. “Okay, I’ll call Sam now. Leave it with me.”
“Thanks Buck.”
Steve cut the call and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, running a hand over his beard. Buck was right, it was a big ask and ridiculously over the top but, well, nothing was too much for him where his family was concerned. And after everything they’d been through this year what with Flossie’s horrific birth and Katie’s post-partum depression, his amazingly brave and gorgeous wife deserved the damned world. With a sigh he yanked open the fridge as he pulled out Katie’s wine and a beer for him, simply hoping that it worked.
**** “You good?” Steve asked as Jamie hopped into the back of the Q7, taking his place on the rear row of seats.
“Yup.” Jamie grinned “I prefer it back here, Rori can’t bug me.”
“Wanna bet?” Rori turned her head and peered at him from her place in the middle of the second row and Steve shot her a look.
“Enough. I hear one sound outta you that’s annoying him, we’re coming straight home.” He said sternly. Rori eyed him shrewdly, as if weighing up whether he was serious or not and he raised his eyebrows, challenging her.
“Ok Daddy.” She shrugged, turning back round. Steve shot Jamie a wink as turned and collapsed Flossie’s little stroller. He slotted it down the side of Jamie’s seat before he shut the trunk and then quickly inspected the roof rack. Satisfied he looked up just as Katie came out of the house, Flossie on her hip, Harry jumping down the steps in front of her. He headed over to his dad and peeked up, Steve giving a laugh as his little woollen hat slipped down over his eyes.
“Come here, buddy.” He said, swinging him into his arms. The little boy gave a giggle as Steve pulled his hat straight so he could see.
“Thanks Daddy!” he smiled and Steve pressed a kiss to his rosy cheek.
“No problem. You ready to get a tree?”
He nodded “Big one!” he threw his arms out wide and Steve nodded seriously.
“The biggest.”
Ten minutes or so later they were sailing out of Brooklyn in the winter morning sun, heading for the tree farm some forty or so minutes away. True to her word, Rori was behaving and chatting to Harry, Jamie was quiet in the back doing something on his tablet and Katie was gently humming to something on the radio. Steve’s hand reached over for hers and he entwined their fingers, gently bringing her arm across his body, pressing a kiss to her wrist.
The journey pass uneventfully and as Steve announced they had arrived the kids all gave a cheer. He parked the car up and then the disembarking began along with issued orders for Jamie and Rori to stay where they were as they sorted the youngest two.
“I think I’ll just carry Floss.” Katie glanced around. “Pushing her stroller is gonna be a pain. I’ll put her in the carrier.”
“You sure?” Steve asked “I would say I’d do it but…”
“You’re gonna be carrying trees, yeah I know.” Katie waved him away. “Its fine, she’s not heavy. Besides, she’ll be too big to do this with next year.”
Steve smiled at her wistful tone, and between them they had Flossie strapped to Katie’s back in no time, having become experts at it over the years. Katie glanced over her shoulder as Flossie gave her a hug grin, before she peeked around and started to gabble animatedly.
“Ready?” Steve looked around and held the hand that wasn’t containing the saw out, Rori taking it as Katie took Harry’s, Jamie falling into step at her other side next to Steve who strategically placed himself between his eldest son and Rori to avoid any potential arguments between the two siblings.
“Want me to take that Dad?” Jamie asked, nodding to the saw. Steve hesitated then shrugged, it had the safety cover on so he handed it over, Jamie slinging it over his shoulder proudly, stepping in front of them a little and Harry wriggled his hand free of Katie’s and ran forward to take Jamie’s. Jamie smiled down at him and Steve shared a glance with Katie as she smiled at him, slipping her hand into his. The family made their way to the entrance and as they approached the various little trade stands, one of which was selling various hot drinks and baked snacks. Katie took a deep breath and smiled, the warming scents of spices, cinnamon and pine hitting her nostrils.
“Smells exactly the same.” She beamed and then frowned as Steve was looking around, blatantly not listening to her as he was busy studying something to their right.
“Hey!” she tugged on his hand and he glanced down at her.
“Sorry, honey.” He diverted his attention “Just saw someone I know.”
“Oh, from work?” she asked.
“Not exactly.” He nodded in the direction he had been looking and Katie spun at the same time Rori let out a shriek.
“Emmy!” she yelled, wrenching her hand free of Steve’s and bolting towards her sister as she strode towards them alongside Peter, Bucky and Sam.
“I don’t-how?” Katie was struggling for words at the sheer emotion of seeing her eldest daughter, who should still be stranded in England, sweeping Rori into hug. “Steve? What?”
“You got Bucky and Sam to thank.” He said gently, as she spun between them all, before she strode forward meeting Emmy halfway and throwing her arms around her.
“Hey mom!” Emmy smiled, before she pulled back and gently waggled Flossie’s hand. “Hi Floss!”
“How did you get here?” Katie sniffed, wiping her eyes, chuckling before she gave Pete a hug.
“Quinjet.” Emmy grinned “It was awesome. Hey Dad!”
“Hey, sweetheart.” Steve swept her up into a huge hug, picking her up slightly off the ground kissing her head. “Nice to have you home.”
“Hold up, a Quinjet?” Katie looked at Emmy, then to Bucky who shrugged.
“Yeah well Steve rang me last night begging for my help…” he began, putting on a whiney voice “Please Buck, I can’t do this without you Buck, you know the usual.” Steve rolled his eyes as Bucky sniggered. “So, me and Birdbrain set off on a daring rescue mission.”
“Yeah, we totally used and abused Fury’s equipment.” Sam chuckled, as he pressed a kiss to Katie’s cheek as he gave her a hug. “He’s gonna be pissed when he finds out.”
“Oh, screw him!” Katie gave a laugh as she turned to Bucky, wrapping her arms round him. “Thank you so much!”
“Anything for you darlin’” he beamed before she stepped back and spun to face Steve, reaching up and grabbing his face. With a smile she pulled him down to meet her in a long, deep kiss.
“Thank you.” She whispered against his lips, and he beamed at her, his nose brushing hers. “I love you, so much.”
“Love you too.” He smiled, before he drew himself up, a little embarrassed at their PDA in front of his two friends and the kids. “Right, who’s ready to go tree picking?”
“We’ll leave you to it.” Bucky smirked as various excited shouts rang out around them. “I’ve got stuff to do with Jen and Sam’s…ahhhh, crap.” The smile on his face turned into a grimace and Steve spun round to see a familiar figure in a trench coat and eyepatch stood by a black SUV watching from a distance.
“Son of a-” Steve snorted, shaking his head as Fury started walking towards of them. “He still knows everything.”
“You have no idea. “Sam muttered.
“Oh, trust me, we do.” Katie grinned as Fury stopped in front of them.
“Someone wanna tell me why one of my jets was in London this morning?” Fury looked at Bucky, then to Sam, then to Peter, all three of them giving him an innocent look.
“Well, there was a thing.” Bucky shrugged “Emergency.”
“Emergency.” Fury dead panned “So nothing to do with a certain Miss Rogers and Mr Parker being stuck in London in snow storm?”
“How do you know this stuff?” Bucky looked at him.
“I told you Barnes, you wanna get one up on me you gotta keep both eyes open.” He levelled him with a look. “Happy called me in a flap to see if I could action a pick up and I told him I wasn’t running a damned Uber service. And then one of them went missing so I put two and two together and looks like I came up with four” He paused and shrugged, smirking a little “Plus, you forgot to wipe the mission log.”
“Damned it Tin Man!” Sam shoved Bucky “You dick, I told you!”
As the two men began to squabble Fury raised his eyebrows and turned to Steve and then Katie, a small smile flickered across his face “Nova, Cap. Long-time no see.”
“Hi Nick.” Steve smiled, reaching out and shaking his hand.
Fury jerked his head as Katie shook his hand, his eyes roving over each of their kids in turn. “I’ll say. You’ve been busy I see.”
Katie gave a huff “One way of putting it.”
Nick arched an eyebrow before he sighed and turned to Bucky and Sam who were still bickering. “Imma let this one slide.” He spoke loudly, the two men instantly turning to face him. “But only because it’s the holidays and I’m in a good mood.”
“You know technically Stark Industries owns half those jets. Tony paid for and designed a lot of the tech on them after all.” Katie quipped and Nick looked at her, before he let out a laugh.
“You’re more like your brother than you’ll ever care to admit” he shook his head as she snorted, pointing at her.
“Worse people to be like.” She smiled fondly, and Fury gave one last scoff before he turned to Sam and Bucky.
“I’ll see you two later. Now, imma go get me some churros then split.” He looked back at them all “Merry Christmas.”
As they all waved him off, watching the curious glances he attracted as he strode towards the hot food stand and then Harry tugged on Steve’s sleeve, causing him to turn his attention from Fury to the little boy.
“Daddy, who’s the pirate?” Harry asked.
There was a pause before Katie burst out laughing, Steve following suite as they both shared a knowing glance, remembering Tony’s fond little nickname for their one time director.
The Goth Pirate.
“He’s an old friend of mine and your momma’s “Steve explained before he glanced up, not surprised to find that once more Fury had disappeared from sight. “We haven’t seen him in a while. And I doubt we will again for a long time.”
There were more hugs shared and after another final thank you to Sam and Bucky, Katie demanding they come over later for drinks, the four remaining adults and four kids all headed into the farm and the chaos began as they began to scout for their perfect trees.
“So we need two large ones.” Katie spoke, “And one for Emmy and Pete in the Cabin and a smaller one for Rori’s room.” she paused “Jamie, did you want one for your room too?”
“Nah, it’s okay.” He shook his head “Thanks though.”
“So four over all.” Steve nodded. “Okay gang, let’s find us some trees.”
They decided to get Rori’s first as it would be smaller and easier to carry once they’d picked it. They set about walking down the various aisles, and before long the jokes started flowing and they were getting worse and worse with time.
“What would you get if you ate the Christmas decorations?” Pete asked and Jamie looked at him, arching a brow. “Tinselitis.”
“Oh God.” Emmy snorted “That’s as bad as one of dad’s”
“Which reminds me.” Steve said, a smirk on his face, “Did you guys hear the forecast for Christmas eve? They’re predicting rain, deer…”
Katie and Emmy both let out a groan as Jamie and Peter howled with laughter.
“What do you call an elf that runs away from Santa’s workshop?” Jamie asked and Steve paused before he shrugged.
“No idea.”
“A rebel without a Clause…”
Katie, Steve, Emmy and Pete burst out laughing as Pete held out his hand to hi-five him. Jamie grinned.
“That’s a good one buddy.” Steve chuckled. “Where did you hear that?”
“Moo text me before.” He smiled “She said her and Auntie Pep had been googling them to put in their cards this year.”
“Like Father like daughter.” Katie smiled to herself, a little nostalgically as a memory of her brother crashed over her and Steve pulled her a little closer, his hand tightening on hers as he dropped a kiss to her head.
After half an hour or so of scouting and plenty of excited shouts and laughter, Rori paused in front of a tree that was the same height as her and she gave a gasp.
“Daddy, that one.” She pointed.
“You sure?” he cocked his head to one side. The tree was leaning to one side, the branches completely uneven, sticking out at all angles and the top was bent. “It’s a bit-”
“It’s perfect.” Rori insisted.
“Okay Princess, whatever you say.” He looked at Katie as she smiled, her hand dropping to the back of Rori’s head. “Jamie, you got the saw?”
“Yup.” Jamie nodded, passing it over and they all watched as Steve gripped the trunk of the small tree with one hand a little higher up and began to cut it towards the bottom. He could have easily snapped the trunk with his bare hands but he played the part and in four strong swipes it pulled free with a little crack and Rori gave a shriek and clapped her hands.
“I love it!”
Once the safety cover was back on the saw they continued their search, walking towards the slightly bigger trees they spotted and Katie paused in front of a large, Norwegian spruce and reached out, gently crushing one of the needles between her fingers. She took a sniff and stepped back, nodding.
“That one.”
“I still can’t believe you pick them with the smell.” Steve shook his head.
“It’s not all the smell.” She protested “There’s a lot to consider. The height, width and spacing of the branches…this one’s just right for the corner in the lounge. And that one two down will do for the hallway.”
Steve chuckled, knowing better than to argue. “Positive?”
Katie nodded and once more Jamie passed him the saw. This time they all stepped back as Steve crouched down on the ground, expertly cutting the trunk and just the right place. As he took the final swipe, the tree pitched over to a loud shout of “Timberrrrr” from Jamie and Peter and it landed with a thud.
Harry gave a loud cackle and clapped, Flossie shrieking too as Steve then moved two down and repeated the action with a slightly smaller one that would sit in the entrance lounge directly in front of the photo of the pair of them at their wedding, so it would be the first thing anyone saw as they walked into the house.
Emmy strode past the tree to one that was behind it and then nodded to Pete “I think this one will do. I kinda like the way it fans out at the bottom.”
“Sure, Em.” He smiled “Mr R?”
“Oh, here.” Steve handed him the saw and watched as Pete cut his and Emmy’s first Christmas tree down, his arm round Katie’s waist, lips softly kissing Flossie’s cheek as the baby grinned. He arched an eyebrow as Emmy pressed a kiss to Pete’s lips, giving a soft huff as Katie dug him in the ribs, shooting him a warning glance which he returned with an innocent one of his own.
“Well, that was easy.” Emmy commented “It took us 2 hours last year.”
“They need to be right.” Katie shrugged simply, Steve and Emmy exchanging a look before Steve watched as Pete hoisted his tree easily onto his shoulder. It still surprised Steve how strong Peter was, even though it shouldn’t, he knew he was enhanced after all.
“I’ll take Rori’s, Dad.” Jamie stepped forwards, puffing his chest out a little, picking the smaller tree up easily and placing it on his shoulder, in an identical manner to Pete. Steve actively fought the urge to laugh as Jamie began to walk besides Peter and Emmy, clearly proud as punch at being able to help before he turned to Katie.
“Don’t say it.”
Katie laughed “Oh I’m gonna.” she smirked “If he was any more like you I’d be convinced he was a clone.”
Steve snorted as he bent down and easily lifted their two trees onto his shoulders, before they followed a little slower due to Harry being with them. Steve maneuvered around the other tree pickers as they went, his boot clad feet traipsing on the damp of the ground as they made their way back towards the main entrance and joined Pete, Emmy and Jamie at the place ready to pay. As the various helpers, all dressed in little Elf outfits bustled around to wrap their trees and strap them to the roof of the Audi, Katie was suddenly struck with a little problem.
“Hang on.” she turned to Emmy as she thanked the man who’d been dealing with and handed over the cash. “How are you two gonna get home if Bucky and Sam left?”
At that Pete gave a little grin and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, “Mr Wilson let me borrow his Chevvy.”
“Yeah they went home on Buck’s bike.” Emmy shrugged and at that Steve let out a huge laugh.
“What?” Katie asked.
“Sorry, I’m just picturing those two riding pillion.” He snorted “I give it five minutes before Sam ended up tells Buck to let him off on account of him driving his Ducatti like a maniac.”
“You’ve no room to talk.” Katie scoffed and Steve looked at her with mock outrage.
“Mom?” Jamie asked and Katie turned to him “Can we get a drink now please?”
“Sure, come on.” She smiled and they headed over to the stall. She purchased a hot cider each for her, Steve, Emmy and Pete before hot chocolate for each of the kids along with a selection of donuts, churros and Stollen as Steve took Flossie back to the car so they could pop her in the stroller. They made their way over to one of the benches by the side and sat down and Steve returned, parking Flossie besides them before he handed her a piece of a donut and slipped his arm round Katie, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“You have a good time?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She beamed, before she glanced over at the other side of the bench. Jamie was settled to Emmy’s left, talking to her about school, as she nodded along whilst Rori was perched on Peter’s knee as she animatedly told him about how she was going to decorate her tree in unicorn colours. Harry meanwhile sat in between both Pete and Emmy, his little frame chewing on a donut as he grinned at his parents who smiled back. Katie turned to look a Steve again, leaning up to kiss him softly “It’s been perfect, thank you for making sure we were all together.”
“Well it wouldn’t be a Rogers Christmas otherwise would it?” he smiled, kissing her again.
“Get a room.” Emmy grumbled and Steve turned to her as she smirked, shoving a piece of donut in her mouth.
“Watch it young lady.” Steve pointed at her.
“Daddy.” Rori asked “Can I go with Pete in their car to Target? I need decorations for my Princess Tree.”
Steve hesitated for a while and Pete hastily cut in “It’s no bother Mr Rogers.”
“Yeah we need some for ours.” Emmy nodded.”So we’re going anyway.”
“I come too?” Harry asked hopefully and Emmy shrugged
“If Momma and Daddy say it’s ok, course you can, squirt.”
Steve looked at Katie who shrugged “Fine by me. Sure you can manage them?”
Emmy rolled her eyes “They’re no bother.” She then turned to Jamie “You wanna come too?”
“Hell no.” he said hastily, peering round at Rori before he shook his head “I’m going home for some peace and quiet.��
Both Steve and Katie let out a loud laugh, as Katie shook her head “Oh Jamie.”
“What?” he frowned.
“Nothing pal.” Steve smiled, reaching for his cider. “Nothing at all.”
#stark spangled forever#ssholidaychallenge#steve rogers#katie stark#steve rogers x ofc#steve rogers x original female character
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Lemon Dust
Part 1
A/n: okay so i know this took forever...sorry ab that, aha, but we’re back lmao. also if this first part is cringey, pls don’t judge, my writing wasn’t as good at it is now (not that it’s any good at all) but i feel like i’ve improved from the time i wrote this first chapter, so the chapters will improve in quality lmao. but yeah, i hope you enjoy!
The sunny day outside was a stark contrast to what it was inside this school. All of the light looks artificial, and it’s just barely cold enough that you would want some kind of jacket. Fortunately, it’s not totally bland inside (with the few red and blue streaks that color the halls.) It definitely isn’t a terrible place, but you would much rather be spending your day outside. Instead, you have to be a struggling high school student, inside. Once a nice lady behind a desk handed you your schedule, you set out to try and figure out where all of your classes were
Right as you were leaving the office, you noticed two boys standing nearby. They sounded like they were arguing. You figured that they would be somewhat knowledgeable of the campus, so you decided to ask them for help. When you approached them, the taller boy was speaking, “Della totally liked the flowers. That means phase two of ‘Benny Gets a Girlfriend’ is a go.” You furrowed an eyebrow at the boys weird word choice. “Hey, I’m y/n, I’m new here. Would you guys be able to help me find some of my classes?” They both just stared at first, but then the shorter one answered your question. “Oh, um, yeah. My name is Ethan, this is Benny,” Ethan said while pointing to the tall one. A small smile grew on your face. This might not be so hard after all, you thought. “Thank you so much for helping. It’s a little overwhelming,” you said with a laugh. “Tell me about it,” Ethan said, “so can I see your schedule?” Ethan went to grab my schedule and his hand accidentally grazed mine. Which isn’t worth mentioning, but what you saw afterwards was. A bright light flashed, and then an image of blood floating down through water played for a couple of seconds. The scene abruptly ended, and you were back to normal. You looked over to Benny to see if he saw it too, but his focus was on your schedule. When you looked over to Ethan, there was a discernible amount of concern in his eyes. He had obviously seen it too. Judging by his look, he could tell that you saw it as well. Neither of you said anything about it and Ethan just started reading off your schedule. This was going to be a first day to end all first days.
The whole day flew by for you. You found out that most of your classes were enjoyable, and the teachers were pretty nice. The school lunch turned out to be good, so you ended up eating that instead of the lunch you brought. Ethan and Benny even let you sit with them during lunch, and they introduced you to their friend Rory. Benny also introduced you to a girl named Sarah in your pottery class during second period. Even through all this, though, you and Ethan didn’t mention anything about what happened this morning. Well, until now. It was the last class you had of the day. You had always enjoyed playing games in gym class at your old school, so you thought that you would enjoy it here. You soon found out that the class was neither good nor bad. It was just boring, and was basically just a bunch of teenagers in matching clothes that stood around in the gymnasium. The only plus side to this was that Ethan was in this class. He was in a couple of your other classes too, like chemistry and pre-calc, but you two had talked a lot and you kind of saw Ethan as an actual friend. He introduced you to one last friend of his, Erica, and then he and you went over and sat down together in a part of the gym.
“So much for an actual gym class,” you said, resting your head in your hands. “I mean, we are technically in a gym,” he said back. The two of you laughed, but then an awkward silence fell upon the two of you. You decided that it would probably be the best time to try and talk about what happened this morning, but Ethan beat you to it. “So, did you like, see something this morning?” You looked up at him, head still in your hands, “um, yeah. I was actually gonna ask you that.” Ethan looked around to see if anyone was listening, and then leaned in close. “I’ve been seeing them for a while now, I call them visions. I know it sounds crazy, but basically we’re in this supernatural town full of seers, and magic, and vampires.” You tried to keep your laugh in, “yes, Ethan, I know about all this supernatural stuff.” He looked taken aback, “Oh, so you mean, you’re a seer too?” This time you couldn’t keep your laughter in, “not quite. I’m technically labeled as ‘merfolk,’” you put finger quotations around the last word. “Some other terms would be like ‘mermaid’ or ‘siren’ but my family and I just stick to merfolk.” Ethan sat for a moment, and then spoke. “Oh, that’s pretty cool. Why’d you move here, then?” You sat up straight, “well my parents tell me it’s to change up the scenery, but I overheard my parents talking about some people that were trying to kill all merfolk, and I’m pretty sure that’s why we moved.” Ethan’s eyebrows rose, “oh my god, that must be terrifying.” You rolled your eyes, “oh, I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse. I mean you said yourself that this town has seers, magic, and vampires” Now he was the one to sit up, “well, we did deal with a vampire that tried to turn a dusk screening into his old flock.” You moved to sit criss-cross, “woah, that’s kinda intense.” He went on to explain the whole ordeal in its ‘full glory’.
The gym teacher blew a whistle to end the class, so you and Ethan got up and started walking to the locker rooms to change. “Hey,” you started, “since the supernatural tend to stick together here, do you think you guys would be able to take me under your wing?” He looked back to you, “oh sure. I might be walking home with Benny, if you want to join?” You smiled, “yeah, that’d be nice.” You could now officially say that you made some friends here at Whitechapel.
#mbav#benny weir#benny weir x reader#ethan morgan#my babysitters a vampire#mbav rewrite#my babysitters a vampire rewrite#series rewrite#lemon dust#lemon dust part one
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Somebody To You: 21
Friendly reminder to please Like and/or Reblog. It helps more than you think! :)
WARNING: Smut!!!! (****** before and after so you can skip)
Word Count: 3,928
Click Here For Previous Chapter & Other Completed Stories
PLEASE let me know what you think
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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE:
They laid in silence for a while, just staring at each other. Neither of them knew what to say. They just needed time to process what was happening and their emotions. Harry’s eyes flickered down to her hands that rested on her hip just above her rose tattoo. He hesitated before reaching out, grabbing her hand and pulling it closer to his chest. Their fingers twirled together for a moment before he laced his fingers through hers, feeling the heat of her palm on his as he hugged her hand to his chest. He could lay here looking at her face forever.
His eyes searched her face, wondering what she was thinking. Was she happy? She hadn’t even attempted to retract her hand, so that was a good sign. He noticed a tug at her lip which turned into a lopsided smile and small giggles escaped her mouth which turned into hushed laughter as she dug her face into his chest.
Harry grinned, looking down at her, “You know, laughing isn’t the best thing to hear after sex.”
She settled, pulling away, still smiling, “It’s not that. It’s just…” she shook her head, looking up at him, “I never thought I’d be in this situation with you.”
“So you’re not disappointed?” he half-joked.
She rolled her eyes, smiling and pulling her hand back, “Tremendously disappointed. You made me finish first? Who does that?”
He laughed, staring down at her and letting the silence creep in again. Harry brushed a piece of hair that was partially covering her eye, tucking it behind her ear and let his thumb graze her cheek before bending in and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. He knew she couldn’t stay here all night, but he didn’t want her to leave. He was afraid of what would happen if she did. What would happen once the moment was over and they were left alone with nothing but their thoughts? Would she regret this? Would they not be able to look at each other the same? How would their friendship be affected?
These feelings and worries were something he’d typically confide in Zoey about. But he couldn’t do that this time. There were things he couldn’t talk to her about, now, because it dealt with her. And the list of things he couldn’t talk to her about would only grow if things got more serious between them. Surely that would put a strain on things. But seeing how peaceful and comfortable she looked laying in bed with him made him want to take the risk. Would it be worth it? The risk of losing your soulmate?
The loud echoing of footsteps bounding up the stairs made both of their eyes widen and they sat up, staring at the locked door. They could hear giggling and hushed voices getting closer. More voices than expected could be heard and they looked at each other, knowingly. Nancy and Andy must have found what they were looking for at the club.
Once the voices were no longer audible, Zoey stood up, collected her clothes. “I should get back to my room,” she said, pulling them back on.
Harry frowned, pulling his boxer briefs on and walking over to her. She smiled, pressing her lips to his once more and whispering, “Night,” before poking her head out of the door and tiptoeing, leaving Harry without a chance for rebuttal.
Harry stared at the door for a moment, a smile creeping onto his face and elation taking over him. He danced dramatically in place before flinging himself onto his bed, beaming. At that moment he ignored all the worries and what-ifs. He was happy.
By the time morning rolled around, Zoey was worried about how Harry would act, stressed that he would have regretted it. She barely got any sleep last night. She spent hours thinking. As scared as she was, Harry was the only person that made her feel something. She couldn’t remember another time where she felt whole before him. Yes, she had Jess, but there was always a piece of her that felt like it was missing. It wasn’t until she met Harry that it changed. She was terrified he didn’t feel the same.
After her shower, Zoey decided to leave her hair down and hesitantly walked into the kitchen where everyone but Nancy was, hanging out and making breakfast. She saw the back of Harry’s head standing at the coffee maker asking everyone if they wanted coffee.
“See, what I’m not going to let you do is ruin my coffee like you did yesterday. Stick with your tea, I’ll make my own coffee,” Andy huffed from the kitchen island, causing everyone to laugh.
With a smile, Harry turned and caught eyes with Zoey. His eyes flickered, and his smile grew. In an attempt to hide it, he forced his smile into a grin and asked, “coffee?”
Zoey blushed, nodding a yes. Relief washed over her realizing that he didn’t seem regretful at all. Minutes later Nancy walked in, hair disheveled and looking particularly tired. Andy laughed at the sight, “Have fun?” he winked.
She grumbled, taking the coffee that was meant for Zoey out of Harry’s hand and taking a sip, “Italian men are on another level.”
Andy nodded, “You’re telling me.”
“So you did bring someone back,” Harry smirked, making another cup, “I thought I heard extra footsteps. When did they leave?”
“Right after,” Nancy laughed, looking over Aurora’s shoulder as she cooked on the stove.
Andy cackled, sitting up straighter, joking, “Thanks for the fuck, here’s your stuff. We don’t need to exchange numbers.”
Everyone laughed and Nancy turned to look at both Katie, who was buttering toast, and Zoey, who finally got her coffee from Harry. He stood next to Katie who was now helping her plate the toast.
“How was the date last night?” Nancy asked.
Katie beamed, “So good. I’ve been texting Gio since they dropped us off.”
“Oooh, does that mean you got a kiss?” Nancy asked.
Katie blushed, nodding, “Yeah, we both did.”
Harry’s head snapped up, eyeing Zoey, and her body tensed, realizing she never told Harry about the kiss. Shit, she thought, seeing the shock and disappointment in his eyes. While the attention was on Katie as she continued gushing about their date, Zoey sunk back and snuck out of the kitchen towards the library trying to get a second of silence to think. Would he be pissed? Had she screwed everything up?
The creak of the door startled her and she turned to see an annoyed Harry, “You kissed Marco?” he repeated.
Zoey stepped closer, hands up in defense, stammering, “I-You were supposed to be at the club.”
“So you kissed him?”
“Harry, you told me you just wanted to be friends. He asked to kiss me. I said okay. It was just a kiss.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth opened, incredulous, “I was a little preoccupied with your dick in my mouth.” His eyes widened and he closed the library door, not wanting anyone to hear their conversation and she continued, “Would it have made a difference? You wouldn’t have fucked me if you knew I slept with Marco?”
He sighed, walking back over to her, “No, I’m just...fuck. I just would have rather known than me surprised about it, that’s all.”
Her expression softened and she narrowed her eyes at him, a smirk forming, “Are you jealous, H?”
His lips twitched and he blushed, “Shut up.”
She laughed and teased, “You’re jealous!”
“Shut up!” he repeated, folding his arms.
“Make me.”
With one quick move, Harry grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her to him so that their bodies pressed together, attaching his lips to hers. He felt her gasp and relax in his arms, her soft lips practically melting on his. How did she do it? How did she make the room spin whenever she touched him? He almost forgot that they were just friends. He almost forgot that the others were only a few feet away, unaware of what was going on.
They pulled away, smiling at each other and she took a breath, taken aback, “If you keep kissing me like that, you’re going to get us both in trouble.”
“A little trouble never hurt anyone,” he smirked.
She snorted, “Careful. Before they find out,” she looked down at him before slipping out of the room.
He looked down at himself noticing a peek forming in his sweats from the semi-hard on that had formed. Grinning, he tucked himself into his waistband and went back out just in time to see everyone taking dishes and food out to the terrace table. No one had seemed to notice Harry and Zoey’s glances or smirks. At least no one said anything about it. They just ate breakfast, talking about how sad they were to be leaving in two days.
“I can’t believe tomorrow is our last full day here. What’s the plan for today?” Aurora asked.
“Well, I promised Zoey a shopping spree, so I think we’ll do that today,” Harry said, looking at Zoey.
She knew that was just his excuse to spend some alone time with her, but she wasn’t complaining. She nodded in agreement, “I wanted to go to Trastevere.”
“I’m not opposed to the beach,” Nancy said, taking a bite of food.
“I wanted to meet up with Gio at some point today. Maybe he can meet us there?” Katie asked.
They finished up eating and Zoey got changed into an orange, short, strappy, floral dress with ruching on the arms and hem. She left her hair down, knowing how much Harry liked it, and put on a light makeup look, meeting Harry in the living room who sat on the couch with Aurora and Nancy.
His eyes sparkled when he saw her and he grinned, standing, “Ready?”
“Have fun!” Nancy called after them.
Zoey could have sworn she noticed a hint of a smirk on Rory’s face, but she shook it off, following Harry to the front door. He led her to his classic car rental, opening the door for her and rounding to his sides. The windows were extra tinted which was probably smart because as soon as Harry closed his door, he leaned over the middle console and pulled her face closer to his, lightly kissing her before sitting back in his seat.
“What was that?” she giggled, pulling on the seatbelt.
“I had to. You looked too beautiful.”
She blushed while he started up the car and as they drove down the driveway, he reached across and intertwined his fingers in hers. She couldn’t believe how quickly things had changed in a matter of hours. And so far, it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as she thought it’d be.
They made sure to keep the physical contact to a minimum while out in public in case he started to get recognized, which, sure enough, was the case within a matter of two hours when they came out of a little candle boutique and were confronted by a boy and a girl around their age. The two beautiful Italians sheepishly came up, phones in hands, asking for a picture.
“Sure, of course,” Harry nodded.
Zoey stepped to the side, bags in hand, smiling while he took a picture with each of them, briefly chatting about their day. She noticed onlookers realizing who it was and taking their phones out to snap pictures of him from a distance. Harry thanked them and wished them a good rest of their day, continuing down the cobblestone walkways with Zoey, ignoring the obvious row of people who had their phones out, taking pictures of him as he passed.
“It’s weird being in public with you,” Zoey hushed, trying her best to ignore the phones.
“Good or bad?”
She shrugged, “Neither. Just weird. I keep forgetting you’re famous.”
He looked down, smiling, “Good.”
The two of them grabbed a quick bite to eat for late lunch and decided to head back to the villa by 3 PM. No one was there. Figuring that they were all still at the beach, the two changed into their bathing suits and decided to take a swim in the pool. They threw their towels onto the chair and before Zoey could even dip her toe into the water, Harry ran and tackled her in, their bodies smacking against the cold, still, water, making a huge splash and tidal waves.
Zoey came up for air, standing on her tippy toes and sputtering, wiping the water from her eyes, “Asshole!”
He laughed, swimming up beside her, “Come here,” he beckoned, pulling her close to him, wrapping her legs around his waist.
Zoey wrapped her arms around his shoulders, looking down at him. Water droplets perched on his eyelashes and scattered around his chest. His lips looked glossy and his breath smelt minty from the gum he had just been chewing. Wet strands of his hair had fallen in front of his face and she slicked it back to get a better look at his green eyes. There it was again; that pull. She didn’t fight it this time. She bent down, shutting her eyes as her lips connected with his. The spark. The spark she had always heard about but never felt except when she and Harry kissed. The spark that made her sink into him and cause butterflies to erupt into a frenzied dance in her stomach.
Harry deepened the kiss by running his tongue along her lips and she parted them, allowing him entrance. They both doop a deeper breath, kissing more fiercely. He carried her over towards the edge of the pool, pressing her back into the wall. She could feel him between her legs getting harder through his bathing suit as their hands began to roam wildly. She wanted him - needed him.
Her hands trailed down to the waistband of his swim trunks and before she could slip her hand in, a faint clatter could be heard towards the house. They quickly pulled apart, lips red raw and flustered, just in time to see Aurora and Nancy slipping out the back door, tan glistening from their day at the beach.
“Oh, hey guys!” Nancy waved, “Mind if we join you? Want to rinse the sand off.”
“Y-yeah, sure,” Zoey stammered, noticing Harry’s back turn to them to hide his erection in his waistband again. She couldn’t help but chuckle, turning her attention back to her roommates, “How was the beach?”
The night carried on without suspicion. Zoey thought they were doing a pretty good job of acting like nothing was going on. Katie and Andy made dinner for everyone, they all stayed up late talking by the bonfire. Harry purposefully didn’t even sit next to Zoey so that he didn’t raise suspicion. Though that didn’t stop the two from discreetly eyeing each other and stealing kisses when given the chance.
She had to admit, the sneaking around made it even more fun. As much as she wanted to tell someone, she still wasn’t sure exactly what was going on and she was enjoying having this a secret, for now, afraid that once it was out there, things would change.
Katie had already gone to bed or at least went to her room to text Gio in private, and all of the careful winks and smirks from Harry was taking every bit of strength for Zoey to not pounce on him across the fire.
Zoey exaggerated a yawn and announced, “I’m going to head to bed. Goodnight, guys!”
“Goodnight,” everyone called back.
She hid a final wide-eyed knowing look at Harry before continuing inside and to her room, stripping her clothes down to her bra and underwear, nervously waiting. She scanned the room, trying to decide where the sexiest place to wait was. In her bed? By the door? Sitting? Standing? There wasn’t enough time to decide. Seconds later there was a small knock on the door and Harry quickly slipped in, closing it behind him and smirking to see her already half undressed.
“Can’t get enough of me, can you?” he joked, peeling his shirt off to reveal his toned, tanned body.
Definitely not, she thought, leaping at him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She could feel him smile into the kiss, lifting her off of the floor and wrapping her legs around his waist. It was effortless but felt more passionate than when Brett did it. She tightening her legs around him as his hands slid up her back, unclasping her bra and sliding it off of her. He peeled his face from hers and slid her up his body even more so that he could get a better look at her round breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth while his hand massaged the other. She watched, mouth agape, feeling the wet start to drip into her panties.
A muffled eruption of laughter could be heard through her bedroom window from her friends just below her room on the terrace and Harry glanced over, craning his neck to see the tops of his friends' heads barely visible. Zoey shimmied out of his grip and towards the window, pulling the curtain shut before walking back up to him.
“Come take a shower with me,” she said, pulling his arm and leading him towards the ensuite.
*******************************************
She turned all of the shower knobs, sending a stream of water from two shower heads and the rainfall feature to the stone shower floor, warming up. She stripped out of her thong and Harry pulled off his pants, his erection in full view now. She bit her lip at the sight and took him by the cock, gently leading him into the shower.
The warm water cascaded down their bodies, making her grip on him easier as she pumped him. Their lips were more slippery as they kissed. Occasionally they would break apart, panting, to get a look at each other. The water made the curves and arches of her body glisten, somehow making her even more beautiful. All he wanted to do was run his tongue from her toes on up.
He attached himself onto her neck, lightly biting at the base. He kept trailing down to her nipples. He bent down, even more, kneeling and sucking on her navel. The smooth stones from the shower floor felt like gravel underneath his kneecaps, but he didn’t care. He lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder, kissing her rose tattoo before burying his face in her cunt, ravenous for a taste of her again. He heard her soft gasps echo in the shower and felt the water from the shower collecting by his nose making it harder to breathe, but he ignored it. He would drown before he was forced to stop, for all he cared.
His hands gripped onto her waist and her hands slid down to meet his, intertwining their fingers as he continued to suck on her juices. Her body twitched with pleasure and he breathed heavily into her. He was throbbing. He needed to be inside of her.
He let her leg down from his shoulder and stood up, his cock pushing into the crease of her legs. She licked his lips and muttered, “fuck me,” into his mouth. The sudden realization that he didn’t have a condom with him hit and his eyes instinctively roamed around the room. She seemed to realize, too, hesitated, and said, “Pull out.”
He nodded, kissing her before spinning her around and pushing her chest against the wall, her ‘bite’ tattoo now visible. He had to do it. How could he not? He bent down, once more, wrapping his mouth around her tattoo and biting down, just hard enough to leave an impression, his hand sliding down her crack and feeling for the plump, warm entrance of her cunt, sliding two fingers in to make sure she was ready for him. Her whimpering seemed proof enough, so he stood up, taking hold of his cock, and guiding it in, making her gasp.
Harry watched as she pushed her face into the shower wall, eyes tightly closed and mouth ajar. Even dripping wet with hair stuck to hair stuck to her cheek, he had never seen a more beautiful person. He took both of her arms, folding them behind her back and using them as leverage to thrust himself harder into her. She moaned louder and he gritted his teeth, sure he was going to finish soon.
“Ha-rry,” she moaned, legs trembling. She had finished.
He spun her around, lifting one of her legs and forcing himself inside of her again, grunting. His free hand slid up her wet body and took hold of her neck, forcing her to look up at him. He could feel chills run down his spine as their eyes locked, unblinking, the burning desire ravenous in both of them. He let out a grunt, pushing himself away from her and pressing his cock to his stomach, white spunk exploding from his tip, washing away from the water. When it was all out, he placed another firm kiss on her lips before the two of them finished washing up, gently bathing each other.
**********************************************************
They towel-dried and laid in Zoey’s bed in silence, enjoying the moment. He listened to her breathing and the sound of his heart beating pounded in his ears. Why was this feeling so intense with her? What made her so much different than the rest? What made it easier to be with her compared to someone else? He couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Her head shifted up to look into his eyes and she hesitated, mouth opening and closing in thought before she decided to speak. “What happens after we leave?” she asked.
“After we leave?” he repeated.
She nodded, “Yeah. When we leave Italy. When we go home. What happens?”
His heart sank to his stomach and a lump formed in his throat. He didn’t know. Honestly. As much as he wanted to be with her, he had no clue if he could. London was his home, not hers. He’d been away on tour for so long, he couldn’t leave his friends and family in England, again. Besides, he had to get back and start working on a new album soon. Zoey lived a relatively normal life. Worked a relatively normal 40 hour work week with vacation time and benefits. It’s not like she could pick up and fly to him whenever she wanted.
Could she even handle his lifestyle? Even she admitted to forgetting that he was famous when fans came up to them on the street. That wasn’t even a fraction of what she could expect daily of life with a celebrity. Did he want to put her through that? Having a fling with someone is one thing, but a relationship was something completely different. It wasn't something he took lightly. There were always serious repercussions when it came to dating someone famous and he was afraid of what that might mean.
He didn’t have an answer for her. Instead, he pulled her closer to him, placing a kiss on her forehead and resting his chin on the top of her head. Neither of them spoke again. They just laid there in silence once more, letting the question sink into their chest as they fell asleep. What happens when this vacation ends?
KEEP READING
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Taglist for Somebody To You:
@thurhomish , @stilljosiegrossie , @odetostep , @apples2019 , @stylesmioamore , @inyourhaven
#harry styles#harry styles fan fic#harry styles smut#one direction#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles oneshot#one direction fanfic#harry styles one shot#one direction fan fic#one direction smut#smut#one direction fanfiction#one direction imagine#one direction fan fiction#harry#harry styles blurb#one direction fluff#fluff#harry styles angst#writing#louis tomlinson#niall horan#liam payne#zayn malik
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James Dean and Daria
PART TWENTY-FIVE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES
Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)
Warnings: mentions of alcoholism, plentiful pop culture references
Word Count: 5.3K
Summary: Ella receives a book in the mail and attends an open house.
two years later
A Ramones song was stuck in her head, and Ella hummed along with its tune as she twirled around the diner. Her hair, freshly cut, was back in a black bandana. She blew her wispy curtain bangs away from the sides of her forehead as she served up lunch. Lane was on shift, and they bounced around together in sync. Working with her made everything a little sunnier. Lorelai had always said Ella and Lane were night and day, respectively. The thought of it made Ella smile as she joined her friend behind the counter again. Recently, Lane had been experimenting with contacts, and it was still jarring to see her without her trademark glasses.
They made a dynamic duo, as Luke was off to fix random bits and bobs at the Inn. With he and Lorelai engaged, he was over there doing repairs for free nearly half the time. During which time, especially in the afternoons, Ella was left to look after Luke’s daughter, April. To say she was shocked when Luke told her he had a twelve-year-old kid that some woman from his past had never told him about would’ve been an understatement. But soon, April was fitting into the groove of town. Ella was always glad to do homework with her (not that the brainiac ever needed help per se) or listen to the girl’s long-winded monologues about obscure scientific principles. Sometimes, Ella hardly believed Luke and April were related. The girl could talk for days without taking a breath if she had the chance. Watching April concentrate over her textbooks and scribble essays during the early dinner rush sometimes made Ella’s heart do a little, nostalgic twist. She was no longer the girl doing calculus at the corner table. To everything there was a season.
“‘I Wanna Be Sedated’?” Lane asked, breaking Ella out of her reverie.
Ella turned to Lane with a small smirk, arms crossing over her chest. Breathing out a sigh, she gave a nod. Things were finally slowing down, almost everyone with a plate in front of them. She had taken over the floor for the day. Lane’s wedding to Zach was only weeks away, and Lane was stressed enough as it was. Ella figured having Lane on register would at least be a decent method to avoid her passing out.
Lane narrowed her eyes and tilted her head at her friend. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”
Shrugging, Ella turned to make a pot of coffee. “I don’t know. I’m a college graduate. Besides, is Ramones really good mood music?”
Lane scoffed. “For you? Definitely.”
“Just happy to have all this education, maybe,” Ella said.
Though it had been a whole five days since her graduation, she was still basking in the glow of it. She couldn’t believe she had managed to get through school in three years instead of four. It meant the upcoming summer would be her first real break from school since the summer after high school. During her last finals, she had been nearly ready to tear her hair out. Suffice it to say, it was time to stop studying for at least a little while.
“So, I guess we’ll be hearing about this summa cum laude thing forever, huh?” Lane teased.
Ella’s smile grew wider. “Forever is a strong word. ‘The foreseeable future’ would be more accurate.”
Lane rolled her eyes with a chuckle.
“And what’s got you all grumpy today? That’s my job. Did a Freaky Friday situation happen without my knowledge?” Ella asked.
Sighing heavily, Lane went back over to the register, seeing some customers finishing up their meals. “I told you my mom wants me to wear her wedding dress, right?”
Ella nodded.
“Well, she finally showed it to me. And it has pants!”
Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella swallowed down the laugh which threatened to leave her lips.
“I gave it to Lorelai. Hopefully something along the lines of salvageable will come of it,” Lane grumbled, adjusting her apron anxiously.
“Hey, Lorelai made that renaissance dress I wore to Liz’s wedding wearable. I’m sure she’ll work her magic,” Ella said, turning to see Luke return as the bell over the door jingled.
“We’ll see,” Lane said, sighing again as a young couple came up to the register, ready to pay for their patty melts.
As Luke approached, Ella saw he had the mail in his hands. He looked almost haggard, with dark circles under his eyes. She knew he and Lorelai had been having some problems, but didn’t know the details. It wouldn’t be surprising if the new daughter or the prolonged engagement had something to do with it, though. Since she and Rory had fallen out of touch, Ella saw Lorelai less and less. And it wasn’t like Luke was a chatterbox.
“Something came for you,” Luke said shortly, handing Ella a puffy orange envelope.
As soon as she took it, she could tell it was a book. Confusion painted her features; it wasn’t often she got mail addressed to Luke’s. She’d been living at Lane’s for almost two years. Furrowing her brows, she looked in the upper right corner and her face immediately fell when she saw the familiar, spiky handwriting. Clearing her throat, she plastered on a complacent expression.
“I’m gonna take a fifteen, okay?” she said, clutching the package tightly in her hands.
Luke nodded. “You alright?”
Ella smiled thinly. “Yeah. Just gotta take the smell of the stock room in as much as I possibly can. I’ve only got it until the end of July.”
Rolling his eyes, Luke shook his head. “I’m counting the seconds.”
“Hey, I could quit right now! Then where would you be?!” she exclaimed dramatically, a bit which never seemed to get old.
Luke grunted doubtfully. “Don’t tease.”
Smirking slightly, she finally turned on her heel and went back into the stock room. It was dim, piled high with boxes and cans. But there was the comforting smell of dust and pine, making her feel just a touch less queasy. Sitting on the lone table in the middle on the shelves, her legs dangling over the sides with boots heavy on her feet, Ella stared down at Jess’s writing for a moment. It only made sense he would send her something at the diner. He probably had no idea where she lived, if she was still even in Stars Hollow.
Her mind wandered to their last conversation, her night up on the plaid couch, crying. When Jess had called to tell Luke he was back in New York, Luke said Jess had told him to say hello to her. She’d told him to say hello back, a half-hearted message. And she was glad to know his trip had been safe. Glad he had apparently mended fences with Luke. But when she thought of actually speaking to him, hearing his voice, it made her feel sick with nerves. All she could see was his heartbroken expression when she had told him she wouldn’t come with him. Hear his pleading. Many times, she had pulled out the small slip of paper with his cell number written on it, had thought about reaching out. But, it simply hurt too much.
And she would have no idea where to begin. He had apologized. And she had rejected him. She didn’t regret it, didn’t feel bad about what she had said or done. But she knew there would be a shift between them. All the words they spoke would have a whispered ‘what if’ underneath. It seemed like too much to put him through. Jess probably wouldn’t like to hear her voice either, she thought. As angry as she had been before, she just couldn’t bear to hurt him anymore. It was more trouble than it was worth. So, each time Luke spoke with Jess, they exchanged fleeting greetings through him. It was impersonal, cold, but, they always knew the other was alive. The deal still stood, even after everything.
Running her finger along the address on the package, written in black permanent marker, Ella felt a storm of emotion brewing within her. Time and distance had been kind; when she thought of him, she didn’t think betrayal, she didn’t think resentment. Somehow, their final argument had cleansed her of those feelings. He had come back. She had never expected it. But, at least, he had come back for her, even if she didn’t exactly want it. Instead of anger, there was only sadness, for months. She had walked around with an aura of gloom. But then, life had gotten busier, and it faded.
Instead, as the pad of her finger curved over his name again and again, she thought of her books, filled with their writing to each other. She thought of his smirk, ever-present when she was around. And his brown eyes, guarded but so often kind. And his fears, shared only with her. And, above all, she thought of him telling her he loved her. With tears running down his cheeks, anxious hands raking through his hair.
Love. That word she had always scoffed at. While she still wasn’t one to utter it lightly, she had slowly come around. As the world moved around her, and she was finally away from her childhood home, she began to see it. Luke and Lorelai, mostly. She almost felt silly, having watched a love story unfold before her eyes in the diner for years and years. Perhaps as a teen, she had been too headstrong. Perhaps she had been unable to see how her own fears had stopped her from living the way she wanted to, a pattern she had been able to see so clearly in Lane and Jess. Without the constant reminder of her parents’ doomed union, she felt better each day. More open.
But still, she had no idea how to feel about Jess. Surely, he had moved on. She didn’t know where he was, what he was doing. Luke had only told her he was doing well. And she had never asked for details. No use in ripping open old wounds. But it seemed the ball wasn’t entirely in her court. Jess had made a move. Again. Biting at the inside of her cheek, she heaved a big sigh and ripped open the side of the package. Inside it, she found a book, as she expected.
But her breath caught as she ran her eyes over the black-and-white cover: The Subsect by Jess Mariano. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest and a grin came over her lips before she could stop it. She knew it was only a matter of time. He was a writer. He always had been. As she flipped open the inside cover, a slip of heavy, purple paper fell out. A crease formed between her brows as she took the paper in one hand, eyes gravitating to the words scribbled in pen on the novel’s second page.
Before she could begin the handwritten message, she looked to the dedication. A lump formed in her throat. For Eleanor, it read simply. Her hazel eyes shone with glassy tears, and the surreality of the moment hit her like a ton of bricks. Swallowing down the sob which threatened to escape, she turned to the inscription before she could get caught up in her emotions.
I wasn’t sure how to tell you about this. But I wanted to let you know somehow, considering it wouldn’t have happened without you. And writing in a book seemed like the best way, since it’s worked for us in the past. I included an invite to the Open House thing we’re having at Truncheon, the place which was stupid enough to publish this. You don’t have to come, and I don’t expect you to. But, in case you did want to come see what I couldn’t have done without you, you’re more than welcome.
-Jess
Chewing on her thumbnail, Ella picked up the purple invite and ran her eyes over the address. Philadelphia. She smirked at the coincidence. She could see him there. Always a city boy. And, though nerves coursed through her veins and butterflies flew around in her stomach, she knew immediately that she would soon be seeing the liberty bell.
. . .
Smoothing her hands over her dress, Ella took in a deep breath. Her battered blue station wagon was parked behind her on the street, and for a split second, she thought about running back to it. Driving all the way back up to Connecticut in a continuous three-hour stretch. But she knew there would be at least a few familiar faces inside Truncheon Books. Luke had offered to be a chaperone for some road trip with April’s school, and they, of course, were also invited to the open house. Initially, Luke had been wary of them both being away from the diner, but Ella assured him Lane and Caesar could handle it. And, of course, he would have to learn to deal without her by the end of the July. She and Lane would be even when Ella took all the shifts for the week of her and Zach’s honeymoon. Yes, Ella’s final week as a waitress at Luke’s was bound to be grueling.
Biting down on the inside of her cheek, Ella opened the door and entered the publishing house before she could talk herself out of it. The place was crowded, lots of people mingling at a table near the entrance and next to the coat rack. The green walls were lined with art, and the room was filled with warm, richly-toned wood. She hung her bag as her heart sat heavy in her chest. She hadn’t realized just how anxious walking into Jess’s new world was going to make her. A small smile formed on her face, though, as she scanned the crowd for Luke and April. When she didn’t instantly find them, she crossed her arms and walked toward the collection of photographs on a wall near the door. They showed visions of the city: an old newspaper stand, a rusty bike, a group of angry teenagers sat around a statue of Thomas Jefferson. She’d never been good with technology, including cameras, and she envied the photographer who could capture images like these.
Across the room, Jess spotted her. Her blonde waves fell down her back, just past her shoulder blades, shorter than he’d ever seen her hair. There was a tattoo on the back of one of her calves, and one on the inside of her left forearm. She was too far away though, and he couldn’t quite make out what they were. As expected, she was dressed only in blacks and greys, her dress checkered with the two colors. And, as expected, her all-black oxfords had no heel. Before he could stop it, a grin crossed his face, and his hand tightened around the half-empty beer bottle he was nursing. Never had he actually thought she would show up. But there she was. Matthew, who stood next to him on the stairs, instantly noticed his friend’s change in expression. He followed Jess’s eyes, and it dawned on him. Jess didn’t talk about the woman he’d dedicated The Subsect to a lot. But the blonde standing before the photography section fit the description Jess had spewed drunkenly on his last birthday almost perfectly.
Matthew raised knowing brows. “Is that her?”
“What?” Jess asked, blinking slightly as he looked away from her and turned back to the co-owner of his business.
Scoffing out a chuckle, Matthew shook his head. “That’s the girl, isn’t it? The one you wrote the book for.”
Breathing a big sigh, Jess took another sip of his drink and nodded slowly. “Is it that obvious?”
“Oh, yeah,” Matthew laughed, clapping Jess on the shoulder. “Now’s your chance.”
Jess snorted a bitter laugh, looking away from his friend and down at his shoes. “There’s no chance.”
Before Matthew could say anything more, Jess descended the final two stairs. Matthew was still chuckling behind him. No matter how much Chris and Matthew drove him up the wall sometimes, he would always be grateful. They’d published his book. They’d welcomed him into the company before it even existed, into the apartment upstairs. They’d become his family without him even noticing it. And he knew no matter how torn up he would be after speaking with Ella (and he knew he would be, at least a little), they’d get him through it. As they had gotten him through the heartbreak the first time, when he’d shown up on the doorstep of a company he’d heard about through some friends in New York, a company which didn’t even have a name, just some printing equipment. Tossing the empty beer in the recycle near the front refreshment table, Jess took another breath in. He could thank her for everything she’d done, then watch her leave without completely crumbling. Maybe if he was confident enough in himself, Jess thought, it would be so.
Walking up next to her, Jess bit down on his bottom lip and shoved his hands in the pockets of his blazer. His palms were sweaty.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Jess said, eyes on the photographs. Immediately, he regretted his words. How cliché could he possibly sound? Usually, the nerves didn’t affect his mouth. But not around Ella.
Though she startled on the inside, Ella didn’t visibly jump. Instead, she cracked a small smile. “And yet, here I am.”
“Didn’t expect to see you.”
“Well,” she said, shrugging, “I’m full of surprises.”
“Stealing my line, huh, Stevens?” he asked.
Still, they hadn’t turned to face each other.
“Funny, I didn’t know you had the trademark,” she quipped.
“Touché,” he said, feigning disappointment.
Smile growing, Ella finally turned to him. “Never thought I’d see Jess Mariano in a suit jacket.”
His hair was cut differently, parted and combed. Not as unkempt as it had once been. He had dark, shadowy stubble on his cheeks. Just as any brooding writer would. Underneath his black jacket, he wore a t-shirt with a black-and-white photo of a little girl smoking a cigarette on a beach. Ella thought she recognized it from one of her art classes, but couldn’t quite place it.
Chuckling under his breath, Jess built up his courage and faced her. “Yeah, well, I guess corporate America finally got to me.”
“I don’t know. I think this place feels pretty counterculture,” she said, eyes flicking around the room again. “Might as well be in the Haight-Ashbury.”
“Coming from you, I feel like that’s meant to be an insult,” he said.
“Trust me, it’s not,” Ella replied, with more sincerity than he was prepared for. Before he could interject with some deflection, she continued on. “I mean...this place. It really feels like you. And the book. It was...fuck, Jess, you’re really too smart for your own good.”
He shook his head, blushing and refusing to meet her gaze. Ella Stevens was still the only person who made him blush nearly every time he spoke to her. “I don’t know. If I could do it again, everything would be different.”
Ella scoffed. “C’mon, Mariano, you and I both know how amazing it is.”
“Whatever you say, Stevens,” he said shyly.
“I’ll keep complimenting you until you accept that you’re a kickass author, who I can definitely tell has a beatnik fetish,” she warned, mock severity crossing her features.
Jess rolled his eyes. “Fine. Thank you, Eleanor.”
“You’re so very welcome,” she replied, eyes alight with a teasing, mischievous glint. But, underneath, Jess could tell how genuine she really was. It made his heart ache for her.
After a moment of awkward pause, charged air, Jess pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the table with the refreshments. “You want a beer?”
Ella shook her head. “No thanks. I don’t really drink.”
“Hm,” Jess hummed, eyes narrowing just a touch. The way she’d said it, he could tell there was more. He knew why she didn’t drink. He remembered her father smelling of liquor on Thanksgiving day. And he remembered how upset she’d been the morning after she stole her father’s tequila. Nostalgia washed over him in a wave, and he was relieved when she took the initiative and spoke again.
“And,” she said, gaining a lighter tone once again, “I’m not of legal age yet, anyway.”
“Oh, well, I certainly couldn’t break the law,” Jess said with a furrowed brow. He was always forgetting he was ten months her senior. She had always seemed older.
“Right,” she said, nodding along, “you wouldn’t dream of it.”
Again, an uncomfortable pause began. It made Ella want to grimace. Things had never been so awkward with the two of them, not even when they’d first met. It had always been easy, without the world complicating things for them. Her eyes did another quick sweep of the room.
“Have you seen Luke and April?” she asked.
Jess nodded. “Yeah, you just missed them. They had to get back to the field trip, I think.”
Ella nodded back in acknowledgement, though she immediately felt her heartbeat quicken. The idea of Luke and April being there as a kind of safety net was half the reason she’d been brave enough to come. But, she’d had a morning shift at the diner, and the traffic had made it so she had shown up only twenty minutes before the end of the open house. All of a sudden, she felt silly for thinking they would still be there. Silly for showing up at all. In the note, he’d said she wasn’t obligated at all. Why had she come again? At the moment, the panicked thoughts were too loud for her to focus on anything else.
“But Luke was here long enough to complain about all the abstract paintings and the spoken word performances,” Jess continued, noticing Ella try to grab for a necklace she wasn’t wearing, and instead fiddle with a lock of her hair. In all the time he had known her, he had never once seen her without the key hanging from her neck. Not even in bed. But he knew better than to ask about it.
Ella’s smile returned, though it was not altogether convincing. “Sounds like him. I think one of the few areas of agreement between the two of you is a natural aversion to poetry.”
Jess shrugged. “I don’t know. I might finally be coming around.” Then, he saw Chris approaching, and felt himself relax. Someone else to act as a buffer. He wasn’t quite ready for the words creeping up his throat, begging to get out. “But, my friend Chris is the real poetry guy. He hires all the acts.”
He gestured for Chris to come over. Ella raised her eyebrows at the man, tall and blonde and grinning widely. A hyper energy practically radiated off of him. She could tell why he was the one on the business end of things.
“Chris, this is Eleanor,” Jess said. “She’s an old friend.”
“Hey.” She extended her hand. “You can call me Ella.”
Somehow, Chris’s smile grew larger as they shook hands. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she replied amiably, as their hands broke from each other.
“You have a very firm handshake,” Chris commented, towering over her. Jess was tall, but this guy made Ella feel like a Polly Pocket figurine.
She snorted a chuckle. “Um, thanks. Guess those steroids are really paying off.”
Jess smirked. Sometimes, he thought Chris was to him as Lane was to Ella. Chris laughed, tickled at her wicked humor, as he called it, but soon his expression grew earnest again.
“Well, it’s good to finally put a face on the famous Eleanor,” Chris said.
“I’m famous?” Ella asked, titing a teasing nod at Jess, who blushed but didn’t have time to explain before Chris cut in again.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know the magazine interview went alright. I’m gonna go catch up with the beat poet and make sure everything’s squared away,” Chris told Jess.
Nodding, Jess glared slightly at his friend, unable to hide his irritation. Chris said once again how nice it was to meet Ella before disappearing back into the central swarm of people, though it was slowly dissipating. The afternoon light outside was slowly morphing from bright to dusky. Evening would soon fall.
Smirking, Ella faced Jess again. He made a pointed effort to avoid her gaze, panic rising up in his throat.
“What is it, Stevens?” he asked, sighing slightly.
She cleared her throat, biting on her bottom lip for a moment. “Nothing. Just didn’t realize I was famous around here.”
He rolled his eyes, embarrassed. “Well, I did dedicate my book to you.”
For whatever reason, the comment caught her off-guard. They both knew he had dedicated it to her. But, she couldn’t help but think about how before, Jess would have never been able to admit such a gesture out loud. Hell, at seventeen Jess couldn’t even admit fixing the toaster in the diner for Luke.
“Yeah,” she said slowly, searching for a witty remark but coming up empty. “Yeah, you did, James Dean.”
He faltered for just a moment. She had come, she had called him James Dean. It was confusing, but nonetheless, wonderful. Still, he knew there was no use in getting his hopes up. He would never have her again, he reminded himself. Furrowing her brows, Ella watched his expression fade from a smirk to a small, sad smile. Jess ran a hand over his mouth and tossed an anxious glance over his shoulder before taking a big breath in and blowing it out through his nose.
“Are you nervous?” she asked suddenly, face softening.
Jess nodded self-consciously.
“You don’t have to be, Jess. It’s just me,” she shrugged, gesturing down at herself humbly.
Regaining a touch of composure, Jess raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know. You’ve got bangs and tattoos. New shoes. Doesn’t look quite like my Daria.”
Ella broke into a full grin, and a warmth swelled in her chest like she hadn’t felt in such a long time. Something shifted within her. For a moment, she worried her eyes would fill with tears. But, instead, she only uttered a breathy chuckle. “Don’t worry. I think I’ll always be your Daria.”
Swallowing thickly, Jess echoed her laugh. Then, he looked over his shoulder again, only partly because he wanted to hide his face. He couldn’t risk her seeing hope flash across his expression. “Can I show you something?”
“Sure,” she said, nodding.
Gently, he grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd of young creatives. The room smelled like weathered books and hot ink. An eclectic variety of bohemian rugs covered the blue tile floor. Maybe it was a little more colorful than she would have initially guessed, but Jess truly looked like he belonged there. People waved and nodded greetings at him as they passed, Jess reciprocating shyly each time. It was refreshing. She had never seen him so in his element before. Something about the way he held himself, confident and relaxed. His hand was warm and familiar.
Eventually, they made it to the far wall, near the staircase and next to the small stage area. A few people sat around on the cushions and beanbags, drinking their beers and writing in small moleskine notebooks. She wanted to snort and roll her eyes at them, but she was simply too happy. The anxiety which had been so nauseating as she hesitated at the door was almost completely forgotten. Because Jess was excited to see her. He had taken her hand. When he disentangled their fingers, he gestured to the wall, with a collection of small frames.
As her eyes roamed over the framed sketches, it took her only a moment to recognize them. They were hers. Nine pictures, all those she’d given to Jess over the years. Jess’s car with skeletons in the seats, a screaming woman, a garden filled with snakes. Others she’d handed him in shining moments, lying together in bed, on shift at the diner, sitting in the gazebo with her head on his shoulder. And, in the center, the Hudson River. Drawn on Mother’s Day four years earlier, as they sat together on a dirty hill and escaped reality for just one day.
Before she could hold them back, tears stung her hazel eyes. Beside the arrangement of drawings, she saw a small, printed index card stuck to the wall.
Eleanor Stevens
Nine Untitled Sketches
Not For Sale
She breathed out a flabbergasted scoff, the ghost of a smile on her lips when she turned back to Jess. He smirked fondly at the look of pleasant surprise on her face. For a fleeting moment, she looked younger. Innocent in a way she so rarely was, shocked and alive. He missed that look, but hardly realized until he saw it again.
“Jess, I…” she said breathlessly, shaking her head in disbelief and facing the sketches again. Eventually, she gathered herself and found her words. “I had no idea you saved these.”
“Of course I did,” he said, shrugging as though it were obvious. “I knew they’d be worth millions someday.”
She snorted a laugh. “Not likely.”
“I’m serious, Stevens. People have been asking about these. But I didn’t want to set a price on them or anything, since I didn’t have your input,” Jess explained, eyes on her as she stared at her own past work.
Ella felt as though she might explode, almost too moved to bear. She sniffed and blinked harshly, unwilling to let the tears actually spill over, especially in public. Her hands were shaking at her sides, and she began wringing them together in front of her.
A few astonished giggles escaped her, and she shook her head a final time before she looked back at Jess. He had grown up, and so had she. But as she locked eyes with him, she felt seventeen again, could practically hear the Interpol song playing in her head. The urge to kiss him came over her, made her skin feel tingly and electric. She swallowed harshly, letting the thoughts fade in her mind. As if he had waited all this time for her. He would surely have a girlfriend. Someone who actually liked Hemingway, who could dance, who didn’t have a sailor’s mouth and a broken family.
“I don’t know what to say.” She fought the urge to bite at her nails.
Jess laughed quietly. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
She rolled her eyes at his teasing half-heartedly.
“You don’t have to say anything. I was the one who wanted to say thank you. For everything. I couldn’t have done any of this if I hadn’t met you,” he told her. Jess surprised even himself by being able to maintain eye contact with her.
“You definitely could have,” Ella said resolutely.
He smirked. “No use in arguing with you, I know. So we can agree to disagree but…”
Pausing, Jess sighed and ran a hand over his mouth again. He glanced behind him, and could see Chris and Matthew pretending they hadn’t been staring at the exchange as they bid people goodbye. There were only a few others left milling around. Jess still almost couldn’t believe Ella was standing right in front of him. For two years, he’d imagined what he would say. But, as usual, the sight of her was staggering. Her hazel gaze pierced his scarred heart and immediately all the scripts he’d written disappeared from his head.
“Look, do you...we’re going out for drinks after. Me and Chris and Matthew, the other guy we own this place with. I know drinking isn’t your thing, though I wasn’t planning on getting wasted anyway, and I don’t know when you have to go back but...do you wanna come? We can catch up?” he asked, hesitant.
Her small smile spread to a grin, and the dimple shone in her freckled cheek. “Sure, Mariano. I’d love to.”
#jess mariano fanfiction#jess mariano au#jess mariano imagines#jess mariano#jess#mariano#gilmore girls fanfiction#gilmore girls au#gilmore girls imagines#gilmore girls#gilmore#jess mariano x original character#jess x oc#original character#original character stories#luke danes#lane kim
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A Boy Needs His Father Pt. 2
@elloryia, sorry couldn’t resist another piece
Mick stopped the lawnmower as he watched his son jump out of Len’s Jetta and slam the door shut with terrible force. Leonard got out after the car turned off and shouted for Jason to stop, but the little boy ran onto the front porch, ignoring a direct command from Leonard for the first time since they’d brought him home.
“Jason stop!” Mick snarled in a deep, powerful alpha voice that froze the boy in his tracks. “Turn your ass around right now.”
“Mick, just back off,” Leonard sighed as he walked over to their somewhat frozen child. “You don’t even know what’s going on.”
“I know he ignored you and was slamming doors,” Mick growled as they both approached Jason.
When Mick got a look at Jason, he felt his rage boil over as he growled at Leonard. “What the fuck happened?”
Jason’s left eye was rapidly bruising and his lip was busted and swollen on the same side. Mick’s pup looked like he’d taken a hell of a beating and the alpha in him roared for blood. His pack, his son, his pup had been struck by a stranger and left marked! Someone would pay. That’s all there was to it.
Leonard shivered at the effects of the alpha voice and then glared at him. “Don’t use that tone on me, Mick, or I’ll leave you with more than a case of blue balls.”
Mick ignored his omega’s threat and watched as Leonard pulled Jason into his arms and nuzzled him. The omega made sure to scent the boy as he cuddled him. Mick crouched down beside the pair and sighed. Maybe he shouldn’t have snapped without knowing what was happening, but at the moment he had larger concerns.
“What happened?” Mick tried in a softer tone, hoping all would be forgiven with both his omega mate and his son.
“He won’t tell me. It didn’t happen at school, though, or we would have been called,” Lenny frowned. “Jason, come on. You need to tell us what happened.”
Mick knew deep down that Jason wasn’t going to say anything to Leonard. He didn’t know how he knew, but the kid was ashamed, and Jason didn’t like being coddled at the moment. Mick could tell by how stiff the pup was and how he tried to hide his face, keeping his eyes turned away from Leonard in particular.
“Let me have him.” Mick held out his arms.
“I can handle it.” Leonard scowled.
Normally Mick would love to sit and argue, but he didn’t have time for this. There was still a lot of work to be done in the yard before the sun went down and he wanted to finish it. He also didn’t want to wait for Jason to find his voice or for Leonard to figure out he was actually the cause of Jason’s distress. His omega would be hurt by it.
He stood up, grabbing Jason as he did and placed the kid on his hip. Jason somewhat helped as he held on, but he turned his face away again. Mick could feel the tears falling into his shoulder, but kept quiet about it.
“Fine,” Leonard hissed icily.
“Len, don’t even,” Mick stated calmly. “A boy needs his father. It’s nothing to be offended about.”
Leonard took a deep breath and then nodded before he got to his feet and headed inside. When the door shut gently, Mick was relieved. It meant his partner was seeing reason. Now all he had to do was get his pup to do the same and they could all get back on with their merry little lives.
“Okay, Jason, what happened?” he asked softly.
Thankfully, Jason turned to face him, his bruises radiating a small bit of heat that Mick was able to feel. He took Jason away from the front of the house and moved to the front of the yard near the lawnmower. Once they were seated on the ground, he shuffled Jason a bit so that the boy was sitting in his lap.
“If you talk softly, Dad won’t hear,” Mick promised.
“I got beat up.” Jason’s bottom lip trembled.
“Yes, I see that,” he said, trying not to let on how much it enraged him. “By who?”
“These older boys were calling a girl names, and she started to cry,” Jason started. “I told them to shut their mouths and we got into a fight.”
Mick nodded. “You don’t seem like the kind of pup who cries over a few bruises.”
“I’m not crying because of that!” Jason shouted. “I’m… I’m just so fucking pissed off!”
Mick covered his mouth to keep from laughing at the explanation. Once he was sure his surprised laughter had subsided, he gave Jason a stern look. “I’ll let you get by with pissed and damn, but you aren’t going to be running around spouting off the ‘F’ word, got it?”
“Yes, Pop” Jason said, nodding as a few more tears fell. “But I got so mad and then I started crying! I don’t even know why that happened!”
“Still is,” Mick snickered as he gently brushed a few tears away with his knuckles. “You need to take a few deep breaths and settle down, son.”
Once more, Jason nodded and took three big, deep breaths. “Dad kept wanting to know who did it, or how old they were and I was so pissed off because I shouldn’t have gotten beat up at all! ‘Cept they were cheating cause all of them were trying to get me and Kasey was being a useless ass!”
“Jason, language, last warning.”
The small boy looked him over and must have decided Mick was serious, because he nodded once and then continued his story.
“I don’t mind that I lost ‘cause it was four against one! But I’m so mad, Pop! I just want to hurt them worse than anything ever, and Dad hates bullies. What if he starts to hate me, too! What if he finds out I hit them first! He’ll get rid of me!”
Mick felt his heart ache at the sight of his son breaking down. Len and Lisa had some major issues with their father and his nasty temper. The man was a drunk and abusive. Everything a bully tended to be when they grew up. Was Jason hearing snippets of conversations? Had their son overheard Leonard’s talks with some of the Rogues about his hatred for bullies and abusers?
It certainly explained why the boy didn’t want Leonard to look at him.
“Look at me, Jason,” Mick ordered. He took the boy’s chin between his thumb and forefinger to be sure the boy didn’t try to look back down. “Neither of us are ever going to cast you off, do you understand? You are not Lewis Snart and you are not Willis Todd. You are Jason Leonard Rory forever and always.”
“But what if I grow up to be just like Willis? Victims sometimes become abusers; my counselor said so,” Jason insisted.
“You think we’d let that happen?” Mick asked. “Look at it this way, son, my mom and dad… they were good. They didn’t care for fire. I turned out nothing like them. And your daddy? Does he seem like a bully to you?”
“No,” Jason said, shaking his head.
“Lisa’s not a bully either, is she?”
Jason finally smiled. “No, but she’s still mean sometimes.”
“Well, that’s just Lisa’s personality,” Mick snorted. “Lewis Snart was never hurt by his old man. Dillon Snart was a good man and a good cop, but Lewis came out as twisted as they come. Some people just have it in ‘em. I know; I’ve seen it. But you? Never. Even if we’d left you in Gotham, you’d never have become anything like them.”
“But I attacked them first,” Jason sniffled. “They were only name-calling, but I was the first to throw my fist and Dad says only bullies hit first.”
“It wasn’t to stop someone from hitting you?” Mick asked.
“No, Sir.” Jason frowned.
“Then you’re right. You messed up, Jason. Don’t matter what people say, you don’t go around hitting them over words.” Mick pulled the kid into a tight hug before he got the wrong impression. “Just because you made a mistake though, it don’t mean you’re banished or disowned.”
“But Dad hates bullies,” Jason said, sniffling hard.
“Dad doesn’t hate you,” Mick promised. “Even if you turned out like Lewis Snart, you’d break his heart, but he’d never hate you.”
“Jason.”
They both looked up at Leonard. The sneaky bastard had probably been listening the whole time.
Once again their son’s pretty blue eyes filled with tears as he looked up at Leonard. “Yeah?”
Leonard dropped to his knees and held out his arms. The boy practically leaped out of Mick’s arms and into his other father’s. They hugged each other tightly.
“Mick’s right; I could never hate or disown you. I’m not that cold.” Leonard offered a smile.
To Mick’s relief, Jason laughed at his dad’s pun.
“I’m sorry I hit them first,” he said softly.
“It’s complicated, Pup,” Mick threw in and reached out to touch the boy’s hair in a show of physical support. “But you’re young. You’re gonna fuck up now and again.”
Warning, icy blue eyes caught Mick’s as Leonard shook his head. “Don’t talk like Mick or you’ll wind up with a bar of soap in your mouth. Now go inside and get cleaned up. You and I are going to have a talk about today and what to do in the future.”
“Okay.”
Jason was released from Leonard’s arms and ran into the house.
“Thanks for the assist,” Mick said with a smirk.
“Well, a boy needs his father,” Leonard said as he rolled his eyes. “You’re more than welcome to join us for the talk.”
“Nah, the pup knows I love him, you’re the one he’s scared of losing,” Mick teased.
“Watch it, Alpha,” Leonard sneered before walking over to him.
Mick leaned in and kissed his omega. “Go take care of our pup, Babe.”
Leonard headed toward the house. “Don’t worry, Alpha. I’ll make sure our pup knows he’s never getting tossed out in the cold.”
#ojtserversunday#coldwave#dc cw characters#alpha mick rory#omega leonard snart#not yet presented jason todd#adopted#mild angst#fluff and comfort#father son bonding#prompt fill
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On the Wednesday Train
Author: @xerxia31
Rating: K
Summary: The Wednesday train brings a visitor from Katniss’s past, but she’s not ready to see him.
I sit on the porch swing Peeta made last fall, reading and re-reading the few simple lines scrawled on the thick Capitol paper trembling in my hands. I want to see you. And from the one person I never thought would write them.
It’s been more than five years since the end of the rebellion, more than five years since I killed Coin, more than five years since I was exiled to District Twelve. More than five years since I’ve seen my former best friend.
More than five years since he killed my baby sister.
Behind me, our cottage door creaks open on hinges that I mentally remind myself to oil. “Are you hungry?” Peeta’s voice is low, tentative. He knows what’s in the letter, was beside me when I opened it. But like always, he’s giving me the space to come to terms with its contents on my own, no pressure. Peeta never pressures me into anything. I glance over my shoulder at him and he smiles softly. “Dinner is ready, if you want.”
I toss the letter onto the table that rests just inside the door as I follow my husband into the cozy little home we built together a couple of years ago. If the past five years have taught me anything, it’s that I can now afford to think before I act. I don’t have to answer the letter now.
I don’t have to answer the letter ever.
—–
It takes a month.
A month of thinking. Of reliving that awful day in the city circle, of nightmares and tears and hours spent staring into the void. Of missing Prim so much that my very bones ache with it.
A month of long walks in the forest. Of reliving those quiet moments of innocence, of brotherhood, of shared responsibility but also shared triumph, so sweet in memory but gone forever.
A month of yelling and of whispered conversations. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to see him,” I confess one night, long after we’ve gone to bed. We’re on top of the sheets in deference to the heat, a faint breeze wafting through the open window to alight on sweat-sheened skin.
“You’re strong enough to do anything,” Peeta reminds me. “And you don’t have to do it alone.” He’s right, of course. There aren’t many in District 12, even still. But the few of us who are here have built a community together. Our friends, our family of choice if not by birth.
“He hurt me.” There are so many more layers to my fear, my reluctance to see Gale again. But the simplest truth is that Gale’s actions hurt me terribly, irreparably.
“I know,” Peeta says, tracing soothing circles on the scarred skin of my belly. “But he loved you too.”
-----
He arrives on the Wednesday train, which surprises me. I’d thought a fancy government job in District Two would have afforded him the means to travel via hovercraft, or maybe even private car. Instead, Gale is taking a train along the same tracks that twice hurtled Peeta and me towards certain death.
We don’t meet him at the station. I pace our porch until the train whistle echoes through the district. Then I switch to pacing our small living room.
Peeta, though outwardly calm, has covered our kitchen table with baked goods, the scents of hot yeast and sugar filling our home even with all of the windows flung wide. He’s sheepish, but I know how keeping his hands and mind busy helps him fight off the false memories that still plague him from time to time, memories that so often involve Gale and me and things that never happened between us.
And things that did.
Despite his clear inner turmoil, Peeta abandons his baking to pace with me. “What could he possibly want after all of this time?” I mutter. It’s a hypothetical question; I could have asked in my return letter weeks earlier but I didn’t. I only wrote ‘okay’, and left it at that.
Peeta wraps his arms around me and kisses my temple. “I don’t know, love,” he says, the same answer he’s given me every time I’ve asked. “But we’ll find out soon enough.”
I know the district like the back of my hand, know exactly how long it takes to walk from the train station to the little cottage Peeta and I built about a half mile from where the fence once stood. That span comes and goes, and then a second of equal length. Peeta and I stop pacing, and eventually move out onto our porch, settling into the swing together, his arm still holding me steady, my head now settled onto his shoulder. “Maybe he changed his mind,” I say, voicing the thought I know we’ve both had. “Or missed his connection?”
Peeta merely hums above me, a sound that could be agreement but I suspect is not, and sets the swing in motion with a push of his good leg. And he’s right, because only a few minutes later a long shadow turns down our walkway. Gale, silhouetted by the sun, strange and yet somehow familiar too.
And not alone.
Peeta’s smile is genuine and delighted as he takes in Gale’s companion, my expression is likely the confused scowl I’ve spent much of my life wearing.
She has straight black hair that bounces with each step, and wide, wary almond-shaped eyes, so dark they glisten like wet coal in the afternoon light. As Gale approaches, she tucks her face into his shoulder shyly.
“It’s good to see you,” Peeta says when my own silence has stretched too long, clomping down the porch steps while I stand frozen at the top. Gale shifts the dark haired toddler on his hip to reach for Peeta’s outstretched hand.
“It’s been a long time.” I jolt a little at Gale’s voice, just the same as it always was, and yet different too. Older. More tired.
Gale’s pint-sized companion peeks out at us again, gazing back and forth between Peeta and me, her little brow wrinkling. “And who is this?” Peeta asks, smiling at the little girl and ducking to her level. She reaches out to pat his golden curls before retreating again.
“This is Iris,” Gale says. He turns to speak directly to her. “Can you say hello?” The fondness in his voice reminds me so much of how he always used to speak to Posy, and to Prim.
Prim.
My throat closes and heavy clouds descend over my heart. I think Peeta notices, even as distracted as he is by Iris. Peeta loves children. He’d make an incredible father, if he had a different wife. Instead, he comes back to the wife he does have, me, and wraps his arm around my shoulder again, taking some of my weight as my knees tremble.
Gale follows him up, until he’s standing just feet away for the first time in so long. Solemn grey eyes regard me cautiously. “Hey Katniss,” he says and a part of me is inexplicably saddened by the loss of the nickname I always hated.
“Gale,” I whisper. Then nothing. We size each other up like rivals before the duel, the air between us fetid with grief and fear.
“Come inside,” Peeta encourages.
We move into the living room that bears Peeta’s touch on every surface, bright pictures on the walls and soft blankets tossed over the comfortable sofa and chairs. It’s smaller and simpler than our old houses in Victor’s Village, but palatial compared to the Seam shack where I grew up. And like all of our little house, it’s warm and welcoming, just like the man who makes gentle small talk as we settle in, asking about the trip, the weather, bringing out sweet tea and plates of baked goods.
Gale sits on the couch with Iris on his lap and my gaze is drawn to her like a magnet. She’s perhaps two, or maybe just a bit older, and admittedly adorable, her initial shyness already fading as she looks around curiously.
A child. Gale has a child of his own. It hits me hard, the unfairness of it. That he should have a perfect family when he stole that future from my sister. That he’s built a life when there are still days I can’t even get out of bed.
Peeta glances at Gale before asking, “Do you like cookies, Iris?” Gale grins, and Iris nods, a huge smile dimpling her plump cheeks. Peeta holds out a cookie, cinnamon, the kind I like best, and she takes it in that trusting way that most kids seem to exhibit with Peeta.
We fall quiet again. Gale bounces Iris on his knees while she messily devours a cookie, giggling and feeding him bites. She clearly adores him. And the way he looks at her fills my chest with an unfamiliar longing. Not for Gale, not even for a baby of my own. But for the contentment of a life I’ve never even wanted.
Peeta carries the conversation, telling Gale about the medicine factory that is slated to open in the fall, the influx of new people we expect will follow. Gale speaks not about his life in Two, but about the new housing going up above ground in Thirteen, now that the decontamination there is complete.
When Peeta inquires if Gale is part of that project, he shakes his head. “My mom’s house will be in the first group. Rory is on one of the construction crews.”
“They’re not with you in Two?” I ask, the first words I’ve said since Peeta’s return. Gale stiffens, a frown tugging at his lips.
“They’re not,” he says, and ever after five years I can read his pain, hear it in his gruff voice. “But I speak with them a couple of times a month.” That surprises me, Gale was always so close to Hazelle, even when the mines, and then the war, took him away for so many hours, he still made time for her. I wonder why he hasn’t brought them to Two.
Iris is getting restless, climbing over Gale and making little whining noises. When Peeta offers to take her to feed Haymitch’s geese (“they’re much tamer than the man,” he assures Gale) I feel betrayed. I don’t want to be alone with this stranger who isn’t a stranger. So much for not having to do this alone.
Peeta takes Iris’s hand, she follows him happily. It’s quiet for many, many long moments, only the soft murmur of Peeta and Iris’s conversation floating in from the kitchen as they gather bits of stale bread for the geese, and the wind through the willows just outside my window. The front door creaks again, announcing their departure.
Then Gale and I are alone. I shift in my chair by the fireplace, across from Gale, and really look at him.
He’s well put together, nice clothing and new shoes, neatly trimmed nails with no coal dust under them. But he seems so much older than his not quite 25 years, the line between his brows a permanent feature, a weariness in his grey eyes. He regards me the same way, cataloguing the changes that five years have wrought on my own face. I know what he sees. While my face was spared in the explosion and fire all of those years ago, the burn scars that mar my arms and legs are on full display. I’m no longer self-conscious enough about them to wear long sleeves, especially in the late August heat. This is who I am, and the people of Twelve accept me, faults and all. More importantly, Peeta loves me despite everything. I have nothing to be ashamed of. And I remind myself that I have nothing to fear here either.
“How old is Iris?” I start. There are a thousand things we should be talking about, but his daughter is perhaps the easiest.
“She just turned two in April,” he says.
“You didn’t mention her.”
He nods. “Her mother was my neighbour, in Two. She died just before Christmas. There was no one to take the baby.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “She’s not your-”
“She is my daughter,” he interrupts, voice hard. “In every way that matters.”
I’m momentarily stunned, not just by his vehemence, but that he’s taken in an orphan, and is raising her apparently alone, without her mother or his own. That’s not the Gale I remember, who cared about his family, sure, but not for strangers. He never seemed upset about the kids in the community home like I was.
“She’s why I’m here,” he admits.
“You wanted me to meet her?” He could have just sent a photograph, like Annie did when little Finn was born.
“No, I mean, yeah, I did, but that’s not what I meant,” he stutters. I bite my tongue, giving him the space to sort out his thoughts. “Having her in my life…” he trails off, and stands, walking over to the window. I can see his pained expression reflected in the glass.
“I wanted you to know that I get it now,” he says, still facing away. “I didn’t really understand, after.” He sighs, but I stay still and silent. “I felt bad.” He shakes his head and turns to face me. I’m shocked to see his eyes are shimmering. “I feel bad, I feel fucking awful, about what I created with Beetee, what they used it for. But until Iris, I didn’t really understand. I do now.”
I frown and shake my head. Having a baby shouldn’t be necessary to understand why blowing up a bunch of kids is wrong. This is ridiculous.
“I understand,” he tries again, “that there are things more important than being right.” He tries to clear the roughness from his throat. “Back then, I was always so angry, so damned righteous. I hated being so powerless.”
“We all did,” I remind him, anger in my voice. “Nothing makes you feel quite so powerless as seeing your little sister’s name pulled out of a giant glass bowl. Of hearing her essentially sentenced to death.”
“I know,” he says softly, though he doesn’t. The only person who really understands the scars I bear on my soul is Peeta. And maybe Haymitch, on his more lucid days. “Once the war started,” he continues, “and we were in Thirteen, well, people started giving me a little bit of that power I craved. It was a heady experience.”
“It never felt like that for me,” I grumble. My experiences with the people of Thirteen were so different. I never felt like I was being given the power to change things. I felt like a tool, or a puppet.
“I know,” he says again. “And that should have been my first clue. You knew, you always knew, right from the beginning, that Coin was using us.”
Gale closes his eyes, head bowed while I stare, unable to absolve him. My sister is dead, as are a lot of other kids and medics. While their deaths aren’t wholly his fault, his contribution is unforgivable, despite the pressure we were both under in Thirteen. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he whispers, as if reading my thoughts. “I just want you to know that I am so very sorry. But more than that, I understand, and I pledge to you, and to Prim, that I’m going to do everything in my power to make the world a better place.”
Honestly, that still sounds like what he thought he was doing with Thirteen, and I frown. “You don’t believe me?”
“I do.”
“But it isn’t enough?”
“I guess I don’t see how it’s any different. You’ve always wanted to change Panem, Gale. You’ve always wanted to forge ahead full speed and crush anything in your path” I expect him to get angry, to defend himself. Instead he smiles, wistfully.
“You’re right,” he says. “But it is different now. I’m different now,” he emphasizes. He turns away again, leaning on the window sill. I join him, our shoulders nearly touching as we look out over my front yard, the laneway beyond it. Victor’s Village is too far to see from my house, but when the wind blows just right I can hear the sounds of children playing on the green there. Not today, though. There’s only somber silence. “I’m trying,” he says finally, the words defeated. “I may never get it right, but I’m trying.”
“I don’t understand.” Trying to get through to me? Trying to be a good dad? I just don’t know.
“Trying to be like you. I used to think you were weak,” he says, and I bristle. “I thought your compassion was cowardice.” He faces me again, and this time his tears have spilled over, twin trails tracking down his cheeks. “But it’s the opposite. Your compassion is your strength. It’s why you both survived the Games. Why you found Peeta and nursed him back to health. Why you dragged him through the sewers instead of letting him kill himself.” He turns away and I absorb his words. Compassion. It’s a word I’ve always associated with Peeta. But maybe I have a little myself too.
“It’s why you’re listening to me now instead of chasing me down the lane with your bow,” Gale murmurs. A reluctant smile lifts one side of my mouth. Under all the bluster, under the fancy clothes and the fancy haircut, he’s still Gale, still that boy who was once my best friend. I’m not so petulant that I can’t admit, if only to myself, that I’ve missed him.
He must see the softening of my expression because he laughs quietly and wipes his face roughly with a sleeve. He doesn’t ask me for forgiveness, which makes me glad. I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive him yet. But maybe someday.
We watch the trees wave in the light breeze in silence that feels far more companionable until toddler squeals float through the woods, approaching. Peeta and Iris returning. Reality returning.
“Are you okay, Katniss?” I know he means more than am I all right with him being here and the things we’ve talked about.
“I am. We are,” I say, meaning me and Peeta. And maybe meaning Gale too.
They stay only a few minutes longer before Gale takes his tired little girl to the boarding house where they’re spending the night. Peeta offers our spare room, but I’m not sad when Gale declines. We made progress today, but I’m not ready for anything more just yet.
We watch their retreat from our porch, Peeta’s arm again wrapped around me.
“You were so brave today,” Peeta says when they turn the corner and disappear from view. I nod, turning into his arms, inhaling his scent. “And so was he.”
“So was he,” I agree.
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Fic: Pure (10/14)
Summary: Belle wanted to wait until marriage before she had sex for the first time. It was the one thing that still stuck in her mind after leaving her small town upbringing steeped in religious doctrine and abstinence culture. When her wedding night comes, however, the purity ideals of Storybrooke’s sex education are hard to shake off, and making the transition from virgin to sexually active is more difficult than she anticipated. With the help of a patient husband, Belle begins an intimate journey into understanding her body, her desires, and her identity as a woman.
Rated: E
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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [AO3]
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Pure
Ten
Belle had hoped that a night out with the girls would take her mind off everything. If she was thinking about having fun and getting tipsy off overpriced cocktails, then she wouldn’t be thinking about Aiden. Or about sex. She wouldn’t be thinking about any of the things she shouldn’t be thinking about, even though she knew that logically, there was absolutely no reason why she shouldn’t be thinking about them.
Unfortunately, her ploy wasn’t working.
They were in Aesop’s, a favourite haunt for the three of them that they had quickly found just after Belle had moved to Boston and fallen in with their group at college, and many happy times had been shared there. It was not a place that she had ever come to with Aiden, preferring to keep it as a girls’ only thing. There were plenty of other wonderful places that she had discovered with him, after all.
She twirled the straw around the ice in the bottom of her empty mojito glass, wondering if it would be too soon to go and get another. She was already on her second, and Ruby and Mulan were still on their first drinks.
“What’s up?” Mulan touched her arm gently, her face full of concern. “You haven’t smiled at all since we got here. Are you still worried about your dad?”
Belle shook her head. “No, I know that he’s fine.” Although she had not actually spoken to him since she left Storybrooke, she’d had regular updates from the nurse who had informed her that he was recovering well but was rather put out at having been told that he would have to give up alcohol for the foreseeable future if not forever.
“So, what’s the problem, then? This is supposed to be a happy girls’ night out, and no offence, but you’re looking like a wet weekend. Come on, let’s see if we can’t get a smile on that face.”
Belle managed a weak smile, but she knew that it would not be enough to appease Mulan, who was quite possibly the shrewdest person she’d ever met. Sure enough, Mulan just raised an eyebrow.
“Please, Belle, you know that you can talk to us about anything. Is it Aiden?”
“No. Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t think that the problem’s with Aiden, he’s being a perfect gentleman about the whole thing. Maybe too much of a gentleman if I’m honest. I think that the problem’s with me, can I get another one of these things? I think I’m going to need it.”
Mulan went over to where Ruby was flirting outrageously and not at all seriously with the bartender, ordering another round of drinks in and collecting her girlfriend for a full-on crisis conference in one corner of the bar.
“So, it’s definitely a relationship problem, then?”
Belle nodded. “It’s not so much a relationship problem as a lack of relationship problem.”
“You’re not having sex.”
Belle spluttered on her cocktail. “What? Yes! No! Yes! How?”
“Look, when a relationship runs into problems, intimacy is always the first thing to go.” Mulan shrugged. “It’s just one of those facts.”
“Our relationship hasn’t run into problems.” Belle sighed. “Intimacy is the problem. I just… I should never have gone back to Storybrooke. All of the hard work that I put in with Aiden to overcome everything that I learned there has all been undone, and it’s all my fault.”
“Belle, I don’t think that anyone can say that the weirdness you had to put up with whilst you grew up is your fault.” Ruby wrapped her arms around her, stroking her hair. “You did so well to break out of it, you can’t give that up now.”
“I know!” Belle exclaimed. “I don’t want to feel like this, I don’t even know why I’m feeling like this, I just am, and I can’t make it go away. I don’t want to want him, but I do.”
“Belle, wanting to have sex with a man you’re married to is hardly a crime.”
Belle huffed. “Tell that to the nuns.”
“They’re nuns, Belle, what the hell do they know about sex, and what right do they have to be passing moral judgements on anyone else?”
“I don’t know. They’re nuns. They can’t lie or they’ll get smited. Smote? Smooted?” Good grief, she probably should have eaten a bit more before she’d come out if this was how tongue-tied she got after two and a half mojitos. “Smeeted? Whatever. They can’t lie or God will get angry at them.”
“Look, just because they believe something’s true doesn’t necessarily follow that it is. You’ve got to trust your gut in these situations.”
“That’s great, but I don’t know what my gut is telling me at the moment; I’m getting mixed signals from it and I really don’t think that’s down to the amount of rum I’ve just drunk.”
“So, the nuns say you shouldn’t be having sex, even though you’re married, and you agree with them?”
“Yes. No. I don’t want to agree with them, who wants to agree with a nun? I just don’t want to be a whore either.”
Mulan and Ruby looked at each other and then at Belle.
“I think you’ve had one too many of those,” Mulan said, pulling Belle’s glass away from her a little. “Belle, you’re not a whore, why would you be? You’re a married woman.”
“I know that! But I don’t know who I am anymore! It’s like I’ve lost my entire identity! I was always the good little virgin girl and now I’m not. Now I’m not anything. I just am. People look at me and think ‘what is she?’ I’m not worth anything anymore now that I’ve lost my virginity. I have no value to society anymore until I become a mother and I’m not ready for that and if that means I can’t have sex until I am and if that means Aiden leaves me then I’m going to have to accept that.”
Belle looked in horror at the mojito glass. She hadn’t expected to pour out all her thoughts quite so volubly. When she looked up Ruby and Mulan were looking at her with what she assumed were shocked expressions similar to her own.
Ruby shook her head. “Belle, that’s… I don’t think that there are even words to describe that.”
“What happened in Storybrooke?” Mulan coaxed softly. “You were fine before you went back there to see your dad. What happened to change that? You were enjoying married life; you were enjoying having sex with Aiden. At least, I assume you were. You seemed fine about it when you were telling us about the honeymoon; I know it’s not a topic that you discuss often unless you’ve had a lot of rum.”
“It was nothing,” Belle mumbled. “It was so stupid, and I shouldn’t have let it get under my skin, but now it’s there and it won’t come out. Like the rhino in the just-so stories.”
“Belle, it’s got to be something if it’s made you so miserable that you think your marriage is ending.”
Belle sighed, grabbing her glass back from Mulan and taking a long gulp of it before telling them the whole story – her dad treating her as another man’s wife instead of his daughter because she’d had sex now, and of course, Mother Superior’s cutting words. By the time she’d finished, Mulan was ready to take the next greyhound bus to Maine and personally dismember everyone in Storybrooke apart from Rory.
“Oh Belle…” Ruby gave her another hug. “No wonder you don’t know who you are anymore. But we know who you are. Aiden knows who you are. You’re our friend, and you’re the love of his life. Surely he can reassure you that you have an identity beyond your virginity if no one else can.”
Belle sighed, and Ruby gave her a look. “You have talked to Aiden about this, right?”
“How can I?” Belle shrugged. “What can I say? How do I even start that conversation? And it’s not like he’s talking about it either, he just started sleeping in the spare room. He’s furious with me, I can tell.”
“Aiden’s a lovely guy, Belle. I know he’s absolutely terrifying on the outside to a stranger and I was ready to beat him with a stick when I first met him, but now that I’ve got to know him, I know how desperately devoted to you he is. He’s not the kind of guy to get angry with you for not wanting sex.”
“Then why isn’t he talking about it!”
“Maybe for the same reason you’re not talking about it? Maybe he’s waiting for you to bring it up, and he’s just giving you space until you feel ready for that?”
Belle could feel hot, angry tears pricking at her eyes, and she wiped them away before they could fall.
“I don’t know how to talk about it,” she said. “I need him to start that conversation because I’ve never had to start it before.”
“It’s very easy, honestly. All you have to do is begin with ‘hey, can we talk about the fact we haven’t had sex for weeks and you’re not even sleeping in the same bed as me anymore?’”
“Yeah, but…”
“Belle.” Ruby took her shoulders in a firm grip, forcing her to look up at her. “Belle, you need help. You can’t muddle through this on your own. Mulan and I can help you as much as we can, but you need to talk to Aiden about this, he’s the other person in your relationship. You still have Archie’s number, right?”
“I don’t need a psychiatrist, I’m not crazy.” Although, the more she thought about it, the more Belle wondered if she might actually be going mad. Listening to some of the things that she’d been saying over the course of the evening, they certainly wouldn’t have made sense to an outsider, even if inside her own brain, they conformed to a twisted and horrible sort of logic.
“No.” Ruby sighed. “No, you’re not crazy. No one’s saying that you are. But you need help. You need someone to talk to who can offer you proper, practical advice on how to overcome this. Because you can’t stay like this, Belle. You can’t live the entire rest of your life with the thoughts that you’re thinking now. You’re not worthless, you have value, the rest of the world doesn’t give a damn whether you’re having sex or not, and to be honest, anyone who sets that much store by your sex life or lack of it, anyone who is that damn interested in policing what you get up to between the sheets, is a pervert.”
The bald statement shocked Belle out of her increasing hysteria.
“I mean it,” Ruby said, and her expression was so ferocious that Belle couldn’t doubt her veracity. “Why is your sex life so important to that nun? Why is she so interested in it? Why does the state of every woman’s virginity have to be public knowledge in that town?”
In all her years, Belle had never questioned why. She’d despaired of it, she’d hated it, she’d pointed out the inconsistencies and paradoxes, but she’d never questioned why the town found it so incredibly important to, as Ruby put it, police her sexuality.
She stumbled away from the table, the rum and lime juice roiling in her stomach.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
X
Belle was back earlier than he expected. Normally Gold was well asleep by the time she came in from one of her nights out at Aesop’s with Ruby and Mulan. He never begrudged her it; it was good that she had such great friends and that they’d stayed so close even after college had finished.
Tonight, though, it was barely gone eleven o’clock and he was still sitting up in the living room, a documentary about tropical fish keeping him company as he looked over the notes he’d made for the clock restoration. It was a particularly tricky piece and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to leave it alone until he’d worked out all the kinks. He was surprised to hear the taxi pull up outside, and even more surprised to hear the doorbell. Belle was normally a giggly drunk, not a forgetful one.
Nevertheless, he got up and opened the door. Ruby was there with her arm around Belle, who was looking pale and drawn and not at all tipsy. It was enough to alarm him.
“Is everything ok?”
Ruby nodded. “Yeah, too many mojitos too quickly but she’s ok now. Not in the right frame of mind to continue the evening, though.”
Belle stepped into the house. “I need to brush my teeth, but I’ll be back down in a minute. Thanks for looking after me, Ruby.”
“It’s nothing, babe, you know that.”
Belle went upstairs, but Ruby didn’t move away from the door.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked. “It won’t take a sec. Belle’s… Look, you need to talk to her, ok? You need to ask her about what’s going on in her head because she won’t tell you without prompting, and you need to know what’s going on. So please, to save you both anymore heartache, please ask her what’s going on.”
Gold nodded dumbly as Ruby made her way back down the drive to the taxi, and he stood there in the doorway for a long time after it had driven off.
“Aiden?”
Belle’s touch on his shoulder brought him back to reality and he closed the door, following her into the living room.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked. “Ginger tea to settle your stomach?”
“No, I’ll be ok now.”
She sat down on the sofa, moving the clockwork sketches before running her hands through her hair with a groan. Gold thought about Ruby’s words. It was probably better to bring up the subject sooner rather than later, especially if it was still fresh in Belle’s mind having obviously been talking – or perhaps not talking, that was the point – about it with Ruby and Mulan. And of course, if he didn’t bite the bullet and do it now then he’d keep finding excuses to put it off. Like the fact that she was probably a bit drunk and wasn’t feeling well and the middle of the night wasn’t the best time to have this kind of conversation…
He bit off that train of thought and sat down beside Belle. It was now or never.
“Belle… What’s going on? I mean, you know… With us.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth he was convinced that he had said the wrong thing, because Belle immediately began to cry. He was about to apologise and try to take it all back when she reached out for him blindly, wrapping her arms around him in a vice-like grip and burying her face in his shoulder. At least the fact that she was seeking him out for comfort felt like a good sign, and he put his arms around her, pulling her in against his chest and trying to soothe her as best he could, without really knowing what had caused her to break down in the first place.
At last she quietened, and after a long period of tense silence, she spoke.
“I want you,” Belle whispered, leaning into Gold’s chest as he held her close. “I miss us being together. I miss us making love, I miss your hands and your lips. I want you so badly I can hardly bear it, but at the same time, every time I think about it and I think about how much I want it, something in my head screams at me that I shouldn’t want it, that it’s a sin to want it, that sex isn’t for me to enjoy, it’s just something that I have to do in order to satisfy you and make a baby. It feels so good and that makes me feel so bad, because it shouldn’t feel so good.”
“Oh Belle…” As much as it was a relief to know that Belle still desired him, even if she didn’t want to act on those desires, Gold had no idea how to get her out of the terrible spiral of shame that she had found herself in. “Belle, you can’t beat yourself up for enjoying sex, that’s…”
He didn’t want to say that it was ridiculous; because it wasn’t. This was the was the way that Belle felt about the whole affair and her feelings were valid, even if he couldn’t hope to get his head around them having never experienced the same kind of feelings that she was wrestling with now.
“I don’t want to!” Belle exclaimed. “Do you think I enjoy feeling like this? It makes me bloody miserable, Aiden! I don’t want to feel like this anymore! Sometimes I wish I’d never done it in the first place, then at least I wouldn’t be feeling like this!”
Her words felt like a slap in the face, and Gold pulled back as the horrific realisation dawned.
It was all his fault, and there was nothing that he could do to make it better because what he had done could not be undone. If he’d just left Belle alone then she’d be fine. He could have lived with a celibate marriage if it meant that Belle was happy. He should never have pushed her, God, he should never even have touched her if he had known just how horrible it was going to make her feel. She hadn’t been ready, and as the more experienced one in their relationship, he should have seen that and respected it.
Fuck, he was a monster.
“I’m sorry.” It was hardly enough to make up for all the pain that he’d caused her, but it was a start. He got up off the sofa, backing off from her. “Belle, I’m so sorry.”
Belle blinked. “Why are you sorry?”
“I pushed you into something that you weren’t ready for. I put my desires above your needs, and that’s something that I can never take back. I’m sorry, I should have waited for you.”
“You did wait for me. You waited for me for three years, I think you’re entitled to expect some output after that.”
“No! I’m not entitled to anything! You don’t owe me anything, Belle. It’s not your duty to be sexually available at my whim.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to the nuns who expect me to open my legs and satisfy my husband whenever he wants and then call me a whore for doing so! I can’t win, Aiden. No matter what I do, I can’t win. They’ll always think the worst of me unless I’m like them. I just can’t win against them. It’s like they want me to be miserable, so they rig the game and make sure that every hand I play, I’m going to lose. I have to have sex, and yet I can’t enjoy it, what kind of fucked up way of thinking is that!”
Belle suddenly went silent, staring down at the floor, and she buried her face in her hands.
“They screwed me up. They got in my head before I got married, and then you managed to get them out again, and I was almost back to normal, and then they got back in. Oh God, Aiden, I need help.”
She burst into tears again then, loud, wracking sobs filled with pain and misery, and Gold couldn’t have stayed away if he’d tried. He had to comfort her, just as he comforted her when she cried in the middle of the night. He had to let her know that it wasn’t her fault, and that he would help her get better even if he couldn’t undo the things he’d done to make her feel this way in the first place.
“I need help,” Belle gasped through her tears. “Christ, I think we both do. I need to get these bloody nuns out of my head. I don’t understand how what they say can make no sense at all and can still make me so fucking upset. I just want to feel normal again. I want to enjoy having sex with you again. Because I did enjoy it, and I don’t regret it. I could never regret that. Making love with you was wonderful. Learning to love you like that… It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t blame you for me feeling like this. Before we went back there… I’d never been happier than I was when I was with you and I was feeling so much joy that I’d never experienced before.”
Gold took a deep breath, holding Belle close. Maybe it wasn’t his fault after all. Maybe the blame could all be laid squarely at Storybrooke’s door.
“I just wish I knew how to stop feeling like this. I need help.”
Belle fell into silence, and then, in a sudden burst of movement, she grabbed her purse from the floor and rummaged around in it, coming up with a scrap of paper.
Archie Hopper, it read, along with a phone number.
Gold looked at the paper and then at Belle, raising his eyebrows.
“He’s Ruby’s ex,” Belle murmured. “He’s a therapist.”
She turned to Gold and gave him a weak smile. “I think that maybe Ruby and Mulan are right. I think that I need professional help.”
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TV series ask meme: Doctor Who
send me a tv series and I’ll tell you:
my all-time ultimate fave character: I’m not sure I have a favorite, but I have clung to Clara harder than any of the others. I like all the companions I’ve seen much of, some more than others, but she was the one who makes me think the most. I also really love Martha and Rose. I guess those three are my favorites, but it depends on what we’re talking about.
a character I didn’t used to like but now do: River Song. I understand some of the criticisms of her, but she grew on me to the point that I would say I like her.
a character I used to like but now don’t: I never liked her to begin with, but the original portrayal of Cassandra in 1x02 makes my skin crawl a bit because of the transphobia involved now that I understand it, which I probably didn’t in my early years as a fan. I appreciate that the second and final portrayal of her involved showing her some empathy, which I guess was a slight rebound on that, but still. Bad taste in my mouth.
a character I’m indifferent about: Thirteen, so far, because I haven’t seen her or her companions??? And I guess that I was just kind of put off by the very hamfisted pop-feminist marketing angle they went for. Like, the fact that the Doctor wouldn’t be opposed to regenerating as a woman had been foreshadowed since Eleven, so I don’t really think that we needed Simm!Master being made even more arbitrarily sexist than he already was (which was enough and made some kind of sense character-wise) and Twelve and co being all ~the future is female~ in the text of the show. I mean, I guess hedging your bets against idiot dudebros who can’t read the writing on the wall. But yeah, I hope to… one day enjoy some Thirteen but for various reasons including the way the marketing just made me feel blank about something I thought I would otherwise be intrigued by, I haven’t gotten around to it.
a character who deserved better: Martha Jones the mostest. Also, Danny Pink. Ianto Jones (Torchwood). Also Owen and Tosh but especially Tosh. Probably a bunch of other episodic characters, including that Family of Blood whom the Doctor went full wrathful-Eldritch-god on. Oh, and Donna Noble.
a ship I’ve never been able to get into: Doctor/Donna as a romantic thing. There are others I’ve seen that I’m indifferent to or put off by, but that one is one that I can sympathize with the urge to ship but just… can’t.
a ship I’ve never been able to get over: Honestly since I’ve liked Doctor Who for over a decade, this is a hard question to answer. Doctor/Rose was one of my first ships as a teenager that I really understood in a fannish way, but over time the fire about it has cooled somewhat for me. I like it still, but I feel like over time I stopped being as OTP~ about it. So Doctor/Rose is a mainstream ship that I really like when presented in certain ways. Clara/Danny broke my heart. I liked Amy/Rory as they matured, and “together or not at all” made me really happy even if I was iffy about the early execution. I still tear up a little at the musical piece from that scene. And… uh… I am forever transfixed by Doctor/Master | Missy and Doctor (especially Twelve) & Clara and might be persuaded to ship it under certain circumstances. See, I can’t choose, but I guess if I had to it would be one of the last two. Oh, and it’s pretty much bits and pieces except on the Torchwood side, but one of my favorite rarepairs in the world is Jack Harkness/Martha Jones and I would’ve endgamed it so hard had Torchwood S3 ever existed.
a cute, low-key ship: Jenny/Vastra? I’m mostly pretty “oooh I can’t decide” about choosing ships and favorites, but in this case I was pretty, like, on-board with it. I wrote a fic one time which is more than I can say for even ships I’ve been more into. Doctor/River wavers between “I accept it” and being low-key to very occasional bursts of Strong Feelings that would put it in the above-category.
an unpopular ship but I still enjoyed it: Jack Harkness/Martha Jones.
a ship that was totally wrong and never should have happened: The sexist, dehumanizing elements of the episodic romance in Love and Monsters have aged really badly. At first, I didn’t really fully understand why so many people hated it so much, but I get it now, even though I liked the underlying concept for that episode a lot. I also have a lot of discourse-y opinions about why, while I enjoyed some of it and rooted for Ianto and Jack both to be happier, together or apart, that I really don’t like Jack/Ianto endgame and/or it being treated like this Epic Romance when it really only became Epic because Ianto died horribly. I would just prefer to ignore CoE (I have never watched it) and endgame ship them with other people. But this is a sin to people who are major Janto shippers, and I support you! I just… don’t personally… jive with it. It felt like Ianto settling for me and then getting killed for it.
my favourite storyline/moment: The whole narrative throughline involving the Doctor, Clara, and Missy in S8 and S9. It really played with the whole “the bad guy is right” and “who is the bad guy” in a way that never became so nihilistic I couldn’t stomach it, and in fact led to Missy’s redemption, which is hitting all of my happy buttons.
a storyline that never should have been written: The ending of Love & Monsters (the stupid kids-show-write-in-monster resulting in a woman being a tile that performs oral sex for the rest of her lifespan is bad but didn’t have to be like that). I’m really bitter about The Girl in the Fireplace even though there are parts of it that I have grown to be at peace with. I still would probably be happier if the episode mysteriously vanished from memory. That bizarre thing with the Daleks in business suits and something about pigs? I hate The God Complex, like, a lot. I only ever watched it once and am afraid to try and stomach it again. And there are others I’m just indifferent about or have mixed feelings about, but those are my axes to grind. Interesting how, at this point, most of my gripes happened in the RTD era, though The Girl in the Fireplace was entirely the result of then-Moffat’s textual criticism on how stupid it would be for the Doctor to fall in love with a common girl. Probably my favorite episodes in S1 are actually the ones that involve the Slitheen, but I hate the fatphobia and fart-joke-heavy aspects of those as aliens. Would tweak the actual threat, though the writing of the overall story feels like some of the best in early Doctor Who revival to me?
my first thoughts on the show: The first episode I ever saw was The Idiot’s Lantern, and I really understood nothing about it except that it was science fiction, a revival, and something a British friend watched every Saturday. I was perplexed, but intrigued. Then I caught random smatterings of episodes over the rest of my Christmas break, and by the time I saw The Christmas Invasion on Christmas, I was in love and given a new lease on hope. I had just gone through a personal trauma, and it really helped me to feel something about anything again, and S3 and Simm!Master’s role really helped me grapple with what I’d been through and feel empowered enough to survive.
my thoughts now: I always tell people that I’m kind of indebted to Doctor Who for my life. And I feel like that’s true. My emotional involvement with it varies a lot, depending on when you’re talking to me, but it’s a comfort-attachment for sure. There are certain lines or scenes from it that form some of the foundation of my personality, when I manage to have one. I think it is at its best when it is showing love for what it is: healing, restorative, and revolutionary, but on the other side of the coin, cruel, dangerous, and destructive. I think its engagement with questions about the nature of love and responsibility toward one’s fellow-living-things is when it is the most fun. I haven’t really interacted with it as much since Clara left. I have seen about half of Bill’s episodes, the missing chunk being the middle of S10, and I’ve seen nothing after that. I will one day, probably.
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To be Her O.A.O. (one-and-only)
written by: @noneyabidnes
Rating: Mature (in future chapters)
Prompt 73: Katniss marries Gale before he’s sent to fight WWII. Gale sends home his buddy Peeta to break the news to his wife and family that he’s fallen in love with someone else in Europe and is staying there after the war… Peeta is under the impression Katniss is a cold woman that only married his friend out of obligation but finds out the other side of the story soon enough. [submitted by @alliswell21]
Tags: era-appropriate derogatory terms for Axis powers, amputation, angst
A/N: I got permission from @alliswell21 to shift from Europe to the Pacific Theater of Operations, since I geek out over that side of WWII history (my Pop was in some of the places mentioned in this story.) This was intended as a one-shot. I didn’t want to commit to chapters, but it’s spiraled out of control and now I can’t stop myself. I’ll cross-post it on ffnet (ryebrewster) and hopefully will find some closure. If you find some of the language awkward or somewhat un-PC, I was attempting to be era and region appropriate, but it’s hard to write an Appalachian and a Philly accent without both coming across pretty hick. Guess I never listened to myself talk before. -rye
–//–//–//–//–//–//–//–
Chapter 1
At the moment, I can’t believe this road ever ends. It rolls away from me, ever higher, ever rockier, taunting me with each uneven step I take. Foolish me had thought I would just hitch a ride. I should have guessed from the name that it would be a ‘road less traveled by.’ Rocky Ridge doesn’t exactly sound welcoming, but Gale had always made it sound like the closest a man could get to heaven. At least, until he met a certain honey-tongued Polynesian girl whose hips swayed like the island breezes. Then heaven made a quick detour to places on her that we best not discuss in public and I definitely won’t be discussing whenever I find the end of this infernal road.
I pause, resting on a particularly large boulder off the side of the narrow road. Hard to believe any car could make it up the path. Certainly not my Dad’s old Tudor, scraping its fenders on each slight turn to avoid the next large rock too heavy to move, and barely jeepable given how narrow. Briefly my inability to drive doesn’t seem like such a bad thing, but then the throbbing in my left leg reminds me that walking isn’t a great alternative either. I’m still getting the hang of my prosthetic, despite all the weeks (oh God, it’s been months, hasn’t it) spent in rehab in San Diego.
Gazing around me, I can begin to see what Gale always beat his gums about. These forests are beautiful, and so peaceful. Such a shift from the tropical forests in which we stewed. The proximity of my memory is enough to shake me from enjoying the moment. The color green took on such an ugly connotation during the war. Sitting on this boulder, I feel like I want to reclaim the hue and give it back its fresh and lovely place in my mental palate, but I do wonder if there will ever be a time when I won’t associate lush forests with machine-gun fire and jungle rot.
As the leaves flutter in the breeze, I catch a brief glimpse of metal roof in the distance. Finally, I may be making progress. Once more I pull the wrinkled and cracked photo from my pocket. Katniss. Her scowl hasn’t changed since he first handed me the image three years ago. At the time, it was to boast about the girl waiting back home. When he handed it to me again five months ago, it was to beg me to explain to her. To get her forgiveness, if not her blessing, for him not coming home. I hope the lump of cash in my rucksack would help to secure it, but her scowl challenges me each time I look at it. He’d said she was an easy woman to love, but an impossible one to live with. I can only imagine how she’ll feel about a crippled stranger appearing on her doorstep.
Righting myself again, I’ve renewed hope that the distance isn’t much farther. It’s as I round another bend that I hear the arrow whizzing past and striking a tree several feet to my left. My gaze slides to my right as I’m reminded that I’ve no firearm.
“I don’t miss twice,” the voice growls from the foliage. It’s feminine and angry, a combination I’ve been warned about but didn’t think I would confront quite so soon.
“I don’t intend to be aimed at twice.”
“Could hear you coming from a mile away. What business you got up Rocky Ridge?”
“Gale sent me.”
I can hear the air sucked out of her lungs despite the distance. The silence stretches on before she quietly emerges, her bow lowered at her side. Immediately I know it’s her. I’ve stared at her picture long enough that I would know those high cheekbones and quicksilver eyes anywhere. Her braid is loose with fly-aways and her neck shows the proof of a battle with some clawed creature. For a moment my memory jumps back to Philadelphia and the unfortunate circumstances of my own childhood, but I think these scratches aren’t human. Katniss clearly is of the forest, part dryad, part fairy, Artemis herself standing before me, at home in nature in a way I’ve never been.
“Gale? Is he…?” she breathes out, fear seeping into the short syllables.
“He’s alive.” It’s all she needs to hear for now. Her head drops and she lets out another long breath.
“I guess you’ll be wanting something to drink. Doesn’t look like you packed for the hike.”
“I am a bit parched. My canteen dried up two clicks ago. You’d think I’d be better at rationing, but I had no idea the road was this long.”
“Clicks? You talk funny. Where you from?”
“Philadelphia, ma’am, but clicks is how we measure distance in the Marines. Kilometers. Gale never mentioned you guys live so far out of town.”
She just nods, turning her back to me and heading off through the greenery, on a path only she sees. I follow her on the assumption that it must be a short-cut to the house, not because I’m keen to test my prosthetic out over the exposed roots and downed branches.
“I can’t walk as fast as you, ma’am. The Japs took my leg along with a bunch of my friends.”
She stops and slowly turns back to face me. “And you walked all this way? Why didn’t you catch a ride in town?”
“I didn’t realize no one would be coming out this way. Like I said, I grew up in Philadelphia. There’s always traffic everywhere you look. Never occurred to me that I might walk out of town and never pass another car.”
“I can walk slower. I’m not getting any hunting done with you making all that racket. My sister’ll check your leg when we get up there, then I can give you a ride back.”
“I did come to speak to you.”
She nods again, turning away from whatever I might have to say. Silence descends upon us. Normally I would fill it, but I’m struggling enough just to stay upright, that I don’t bother to engage her, and I figure her for the quiet type anyway. She’s alert, taking in the sounds of the forest around us, and I find myself remembering following Gale in much the same way through the mountains of Okinawa, the resemblance both eerie and comforting.
After longer than my leg would prefer, a clearing opens up before us with a handful of houses and barns dotted across the ridge. Sheep and goats graze below me in a field while a couple horses stand in the shadow of the closest barn. It appears to have seen better days, needing a fresh coat of paint, but it’s obvious that someone has been attempting repairs on it from the ladder propped against the side leading to relatively fresh boards. She catches me staring at it as she turns around to check my progress.
“We had a bit of a storm a couple weeks back. Some branches took out an old window. Took forever to clean up all the glass, but at least none of the goats ate any.”
I take it that she performed the repair herself, a fact that would surprise me if she were any of the women I grew up around, but seems perfectly normal given what I’ve already learned of her. I search the hillside for any sign of a man, young or old, and come up empty.
“Do Gale’s brothers help you out at all?”
Her eyes narrow at me, clearly not suspecting I had knowledge of the younger boys. Her scowl settles as she explains, “Rory’s taken up working for the lumber yard in town and he takes Vick down with him. Vick runs deliveries for the grocery. They both pull their weight around here. We all do.”
She’s offended, that much is clear. “I would never doubt that you do, ma’am. From everything Gale told me, you’re all a well-oiled machine up here. I just don’t think he knew the boys had taken up jobs while he was gone. I think he hoped his pay was enough to keep you all afloat, along with your hunting of course.”
Her scowl deepens as she steps closer to me. “You say he’s alive but you keep talkin’ bout him in the past tense. You gonna tell me what you’re doin here, soldier? You seem to know an awful lot about my business.”
I can’t help but stumble back at the intensity of her ire. It draws her attention to my leg, still unstable on the steep ground. Her face softens briefly before the scowl returns. “Let’s get you inside and off that leg.”
The house is just a handful of rooms lumped together with a porch across the front. It’s clear at a glance that as space was needed, they just built on with whatever materials were available, but there’s a pride that’s been taken in the appearance nonetheless. Flowers bloom along the front of the porch and herbs hang drying from the rafters. Two rockers with flowered cushions are tucked against the house, sheltered equally from the sun and any rain that might roll through.
As we step through the door the only light filtering through comes from a handful of windows of varying sizes. Gauze curtains blow gently at the open panes, reminding me of mosquito nets. I shake the memory off before it drags me down, instead turning my attention to the closest chair quickly being vacated by a young woman with delicate features similar to Katniss’s.
“Prim, let him sit. He’s a bad leg. Might need you to look at it. Walked all the way up here.”
“Why didn’t he ask Haymitch for a ride? Not like the man has anything better to do.” The young woman I’m guessing is Prim glances at me with equal parts scowl and concern as she makes room for me to sit.
“Not from around ‘ere, so he doesn’t know Haymitch from Adam,” Katniss offers. “Says he knows Gale.”
Prim halts in her movements as she takes me in. I’m dressed in my civvies and my hair has grown out a bit from my time in San Diego, but the duffle on my shoulder gives me away.
“You were with him? Is he okay? Where is he?”
It strikes me this is the first time the question has been asked and the unspoken one that follows. Why isn’t he here instead?
Katniss slams a tea kettle down on the fire box in the corner, breaking the tension with the clatter. “Prim, can you grab some of the tea from over there? I’m steep up some sweet tea quick while you check him out. Then I can give Mister—” she cuts off, realizing she still hasn’t asked my name.
“Mellark,” I supply, rising out of my seat to stand at attention. “Corporal Peeta Mellark, 3rd Battalion, 14th Marines. Pleased to make your acquaintance Mrs. Hawthorne, Miss Everdeen.” I nod to each in turn. “I’m sorry I didn’t offer it up sooner. I was with Gale for a good chunk of my tour. We made it through Guam and Okinawa together. Even ended up side-by-side on the USS Hope being ferried back to Tongatapu after our artillery backfired. I promise you, he’s alive Mrs. Hawthorne.”
She had turned back to face the kettle, but with my final announcement, I can see her shoulders have risen to her ears.
“Please don’t call me that,” she mumbles quietly, and I strain forward to hear her.
“Katniss,” Prim begins to scold.
“No, Miss Everdeen, it’s okay. Actually, it makes the rest of what I have to say easier.”
Katniss turns and I can see for the first time that tears line her eyes, just waiting to fall.
“He’s not coming back, is he Corporal?” she whispers, as though saying it too loud will make it true.
I shake my head slowly, wishing all of this had gone differently. “He doesn’t want a divorce. He figured you’d prefer it that way. But no, he’s not going to coming back to Virginia.”
“So there’s not another woman?”
I glance at Prim, unsure of how much Katniss wants me to reveal in front of the younger woman, but it’s clear the two are close.
“Um, I’m afraid to say, there is. She’s from the islands, Tongan, a sweet girl. He…” I stumble, unsure of whether I should finish the thought, knowing it might cause her more pain. “He said what was between the two of you was a partnership. That you had always said he deserved someone who loves him. She loves him plenty. He’s going to go back there, to Tongatapu, as soon as the clean-up is done in Japan and his tour is over. So, whether you get divorced or not doesn’t really change things for him. He still wants most of his pay to come here. He knows you’re looking out for his family.”
She nods at what I say and sinks into a chair by the stove. “He had stopped sending letters after Guam. I didn’t…I didn’t even know he’d been injured. Did he…? Is he okay?”
“He didn’t lose anything important, if that’s what you mean. Lost a little chunk of his ear. His hearing’s not so great, not that it ever was.” She chuckles lightly at my jab. “I’d still be out there helping with the clean-up if it wasn’t for my leg. They had to send me stateside to learn to walk again. I last saw him in Tonga when he was shipping back out.”
“And he asked you to find me.”
I nod though I know she’s not looking at me. Her gaze is out the window, toward the houses down the ridge, where I presume the rest of his family lives.
“Said he couldn’t write you a Dear Jane letter. He wants me to write him when I know you’re okay.”
She stiffens at the sentiment. “Okay? As though I’ll be perfectly fine with a complete stranger just showing up and telling me my husband has abandoned me for another woman?”
I can’t help the lump that forms in my throat, but I cough to try to dislodge it. “Pardon my forwardness ma’am, but was he ever really your husband?”
At that her eyes snap back to me. The pot behind her is obviously boiling so she stands to move it off to the side of the stove and sets about putting tea into cheesecloth. “What Gale was to me is really none your business. Seems like he must’a told you an awful lot though, you coming here like this. What’s in it for you?”
I sigh, knowing this was coming. “He saved my life on Okinawa. He realized the ordinance was about to backfire and tackled me out of the way. If he hadn’t, I would have lost a lot more than just my leg. I don’t really have a home to rush back to. I promised I’d check in on you and his family. Make sure that you understood it wasn’t anything you’d done wrong.”
The pot slams again and before I know it Katniss is out the front door. Prim watches her stomp out, but makes no move to follow her. I take my cue from the younger woman. I’m in no shape to chase Katniss across the hillside anyway. Prim shifts her gaze to me and tentatively starts asking me questions. Where am I from? Where did I fight? What was it like? Some I can answer easily, others leave me speechless. For all the rehabilitation they did for my leg in San Diego, no one ever really talked to me about how to deal with coming back home. No one talked about the nightmares we all wake from at night—or the ones that haunt us throughout the day. I fall silent eventually, when it gets to be too much, but in my focus on all her questions I haven’t noticed how she’s lifted my leg and been examining the spot where my prosthetic rubs against the stump, just below my knee.
“I’ve had miners who’ve lost hands and arms come through here. Mining means workin’ with TNT and it doesn’t always turn out s’good. I haven’t had any legs though. You’ve got your stump mighty irritated. I’m gonna clean it up and wrap it for you. You need to stay off it a coupla days to keep it from gettin’ infected. You can take my cot here in the living room. I’ve been sleepin’ in Katniss’s room most nights anyways s’as we don’t have to heat the whole house.”
She bites her bottom lip as though she’s said too much. I can’t fight the questions swirling around in my own brain.
“Did Gale ever live here?”
Her eyes widen as she takes me in.
“What did he tell you about the two of them?”
“That she’s easy to love but hard to live with.”
Prim lets out a soundless laugh. “He would say that. He thought it was love but she always knew better. They were great together—as hunting partners, as friends. When our Pa’s passed away, it was just us and two other families up here on the mountain. We had to band together to get through it all. My ma, well, she just couldn’t handle it. She was a nurse down at the clinic in town, but after…we couldn’t get her to leave the house. Gale’s Ma, she’s tougher. She buckled down and started taking care o’all us kids, but there were six o’us and only one of her. Wasn’t long before Gale and Katniss stepped up. They already knew how to hunt, had been going out in the woods together for years. Ma and I used to go out and pick herbs—we use them down at the clinic to help out people who can’t afford the expensive medicines. But I knew there were others that were edible, that we could live off of. I took Rory with me. We sold the goat and sheep’s milk down in town, though ain’t many people got a taste for it since they can get cow’s milk at the grocery for cheap. We make cheese out of it too.”
She peters out, unsure where her train of thought was going, and focuses to gently wrap my stump having already cleaned it. In a moment, the thought returns to her.
“He asked her to marry as a matter of convenience. He was shippin’ out and knew that if they were married it would be easier on his ma—and frankly I think he trusted Katniss to take care of all of us more than his ma. The woman is amazing, but she’s got a bit of a weakness for the drink, but then, most of the folks ‘round here do. They never stopped moonshinin’ ‘round these parts.”
She glances at the pot on the stove. “She never finished makin’ the tea, did she? You want something stronger? We have a little ‘shine around. Ma and I use it for our patients, but I’d say you fit the bill.”
I consider the offer before shrugging her off. I’ve never had moonshine, but there was some camp swill that would get passed around whenever we stayed too long at one post. Didn’t take much to get things to ferment in the jungle. Would rot your gut, but took the edge off the misery of sitting in a swamp day and night. And then there was the hooch at the clubs. Enough to make every Jane look like a pinup but all it took was one tale of Cupid’s Itch to scare us young GIs away from the women who hung around. Well, most of us anyway.
“I should stay sober. I don’t know what state she’s gonna be in when she gets back here and I can’t imagine she’s gonna be too pleased with you telling her I’m staying the night. I’m about the last person she wants to see.”
I find the thought makes me sad. I’ve been carrying her picture so long, there’s a part of me that feels like I know her. I’ve traced her scowl with my finger. I’ve practiced what I would say, though it didn’t come out that way. I’ve tried to imagine her smiling. Gale made it sound like an impossible feat, but I have a feeling there has to be a way to bring out that side of her—not that it’s my job to do that.
Prim’s voice cuts through my silent misery. “She’s not angry at you. She’s not even angry at him. And you seem like a nice guy. I mean, if Gale trusted you enough to send you all this way, you have to be a good guy. Usta be he’d kill anyone that came close to Katniss.” She pauses for a moment before looking me straight in the eye. “You don’t think he’ll ever come back?”
I shake my head. “I honestly can’t be sure. I don’t know that he’s thought it all through, but this girl of his is pregnant and his tour’s up in another month. He’s already gotten approval to stay in Tongatapu. They can’t live together on the base since they aren’t married, but he’ll be part of a skeleton outfit that maintains the place until the Navy decides it doesn’t need it anymore. By then, he’ll be through his commitment so he could go anywhere, but after all the things he said about him and Katniss fighting about having kids, I can’t imagine he would just take off if there’s a little one in the mix.”
“He’s like a big brother to me, y’know? After Pa died, Gale did a big part of raising us. I’m gonna miss him.”
“He talks about you guys all the time. He didn’t just carry Katniss’s picture, he carried all of yours.” I pull the well-worn photo of Katniss out of my pocket and her eyes widen in recognition.
“Why do you have that?” She snags it out of my hands.
“He gave it to me. Has your address on the back, or at least you used to be able to read it. It’s been through some things. He wanted to make sure I found her.”
“’Easy to love but hard to live with.’ That’s what he says?”
“Yep.”
“Well, she’s not going to get any easier now.”
With that, Prim straightens up and tosses the photo on the table, and begins re-organizing her supplies from cleaning my leg. My fingers itch to reach out and reclaim the picture. I’ll never admit it aloud, but that photo means something to me. The stories Gale told and the ones I’ve created in my own mind, the happy world they’ve built on this mountain despite all the hardship. I’m not ready to let that go. The door slams behind me before I find the courage to grab for it though.
“We need to go tell Hazelle,” she tosses the words at Prim, ignoring my presence completely. Prim acknowledges her but continues putting away her supplies.
“Peeta’s gonna sleep out here for a coupla nights while his leg heals up. He can’t be walkin’ on it til it’s calmed down some.”
I can feel Katniss’s glare on my cheek but can’t peel my own eyes away from my hands, still fighting to resist the urge to grab the photo.
“I could give him a ride into town so he could find a room to lay up meantime. Why’s he gotta stay here?”
Prim’s tone allows for no discussion. “He’s Gale’s best friend and he’s my patient. He ain’t gonna hurt us. You wanna kick him out on one good leg? God have mercy on your soul, big sis. It’s my bed I’m offerin’ up. He’s stayin’.”
I can feel the blush building up my neck at the insinuation that I might want anything untoward from them. Prim’s right. I would never want to take advantage. After all Gale has told me about these women, I could never, but another part of me is happy at the thought of being here—in a place that sounds more like a home than anywhere I’ve lived.
Katniss takes a step in front of me, forcing my attention up to her cold stare. “Don’t know what Gale was thinkin’ sendin’ you instead of a letter, but you best be on your Sunday behavior. I know how to skin a stag. You ain’t much of a challenge, Marine or no.”
Instinctively I know I shouldn’t smile, but I can’t fight it no matter how hard I try. “Mrs. Hawthorne, I’ll be a choir boy just for you.”
She smirks slightly before returning her attention to the forgotten tea. “I don’t need no choir boys ‘round here. Gale certainly ain’t one. But if you can carry a tune better’an him, that would be much appreciated.”
Prim’s smiling at me from across the room, so I know the awkwardness has passed, at least for the moment.
“And please, stop calling me Mrs. Hawthorne. Ain’t nobody ever called me that. No point in startin’ now when we all know what Gale is up to.” She pauses in her work before turning back to me. “There’s a baby.”
She states it as fact. She’s not looking for confirmation, but I nod nonetheless and watch as she swallows a lump in her throat before continuing.
“Yeah, he would never abandon a kid. Posy’s the only one on this mountain that we still have to worry about and he knows Hazelle and I won’t let that little girl down.” She shakes her head, as though to remove the thought. “ So, do you sing, Corporal Mellark?”
“Peeta, it’s Peeta. And to be honest, not very well, but I can play the guitar and the harmonica okay. My talents lie more with wrestling, baking…and painting.”
“Seems like an odd combination for a Marine.”
“If any of those islands had been a giant cake, I coulda taken out the Japs with some fancy frosting tricks. Instead I was just the guy everyone came to for their camouflage. Guess I’m good at making people look like mud.”
“Don’t think that would take much talent, no offense.”
She’s poured me a glass of sweet tea and I lean forward to claim it. “No, I s’pose not when you’re surrounded by mud and can just smear it all over yourself, but the guys seemed to prefer when I did it.”
“You must have a gentle touch.” As soon as the words are out her mouth, the blush begins. “Not that…oh hell, nevermind. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
I let the chuckle rumble out of my chest. The hospital in San Diego wasn’t exactly a cheerful place with most of us still fighting phantom limbs and shell-shocked from being sent home. And it’s as I’m enjoying the first laugh I’ve had in months that I finally see it. She cracks a smile, small, secretive, and the single most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. It takes my breath away so quickly I feel light-headed. And now I can see why Gale found her so easy to love.
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It was Halloween. 2003. His grandmother’s turn to host the festivities.
The party was lavish, for all their talk of today being largely for the children they had planned the occasion to an excessive amount. His grandmother only invited their closest friends and family to such an occasion, it grew far too political when all the pure bloods were together, best keeps things between just a select few. The adults took the time to engage in small talk and gossip, dressed in lavish gowns and elegant robes, an array of autumn colours spread throughout the fashion of the guests with whispers of the actual holiday throughout. They ate food from a grand buffet that the elves had slaved away over all day, drunk their way through bottles of fire-whiskey because giggle water was delicious but it was so unbecoming to laugh like children. It was even unbecoming on the children, actually. After they’d all been sufficiently fed they were ushered off to a different reception room where desserts and glasses of pumpkin juice were ready on trays to be consumed. There were a few children there that were new to him but it was clear his cousins knew them all, they sat around in a circle with Seth prowling around the centre, telling tales of ghosts and ghouls and all kinds of wicked things. The other children hung off his every word, all except Tyler.
Tyler sat in the far corner by himself. He had a book in his lap, tilted upwards so he could read the pages, he wanted to curl up on the armchair he’d taken refuge but he was still struggling to get used to the kinds of clothes his grandmother put him in- especially the dress robes for special occasions that came with cloaks and clasps and all kinds of unnecessary additions. He had to sit up straight in clothes like this, he’d crease them otherwise and his grandmother didn’t like when his clothes got creased. It was difficult to read like this though, the book had lots of words Tyler had never seen before and his mind tendered to wander when he tried to sound them out with so much noise in the background. Occasionally the group at the other side of the room would bubble with laughter, much of it came from his younger cousins, whenever they giggled their pigtails bounces either side of their heads, when they did Tyler couldn’t help but look over. There wasn’t room for him in the circle. He hadn’t been invited. That was alright though. Tyler would rather be anywhere else.
“You’ll never guess what I found!” Seth left the circle for a moment, pounded across the room to where he had left his coat and a large bag, he withdrew something from it and when he set it in the centre of the circle the group gasped and cheered. Tyler couldn’t see, from where he was sat, but it must have been fascinating because Seth had a very proud smile on his face. “No more stories, let’s talk to someone who’s really dead!”
“Really? Won’t we get into trouble?” Another boy asked.
“No! My father bought this for me, I said I wanted one and he gave it to me, he gave it to me so I would use it!” Seth, Tyler had learnt, had lots of things. He had lots of books and lots of toys, he told everyone about them, and on many occasions had berated Tyler for having none at all. “I know how to use it too, I’ve been learning, the more people the better- even you, Tyler!”
The group went quiet, all eyes were on him, Seth had an unreadable smile on his face.
“No,” Yvette spoke up first, shaking her head. “That’s not a good idea, you said-”
“Shut up!” Seth hissed at their cousin. “It’s not nice to exclude people, Tyler can play too.”
There was a look exchanged between his cousins and then Yvette stood up, her hands balled into fists as she stomped away from the circle and slumped herself into a chair at the edge of the room. It didn’t surprise him, Yvette hadn’t spoken more than a few words to Tyler for the entire time he’d known her.
“I’m not playing then.”
Tyler didn’t move, he stayed sat in his seat and waited for someone else to speak, no one did but they looked at him. They stared at him. Seth was looking at him expectantly- impatiently- his head tipping to the side. He’d never asked Tyler to join in before, least of all when his other friends were around, most of the time Seth was the first to push Tyler to the side and insist that he didn’t belong with the rest of them. Now he was waiting for him and some of the other children had began to sigh, growing impatient too with the fact that Tyler had yet to move, the only encouraging faces of the group came from his younger cousins. Their cheeks were rosy, their blonde hair tied up in ribbons, each of them had a small pile of sweets in their laps.
“Hurry up already, don’t you want to speak to ghosts?” Seth clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, seemingly thoughtful before he added, “We might be able to talk to your parents, I for one would like to hear from my uncle.”
Talk to his parents? Tyler sat up straighter. It had been over a year now, over a year and a half even, closer to two than to one. A long time. Not long enough. Tyler tried not to think about his parents, he tried not to think about them because whenever he did a familiar ache tightened in his chest, his stomach churned, he grew nauseous. Tyler tried not to think about them because thinking about them was a reminder that they were gone, that they only existed in his head and nowhere else. He tried not to think about them because when he thought about them he longed for them, he longed for them to show up out of the blue, longed for them to take him home so he never had to see this place again. He tried and failed. He couldn’t not think about them, even when he filled his head with so many other things, with all the tricky books in the world, he still found himself thinking about them. To be able to talk to them...
Tyler had not yet grown graceful, in all his eagerness to get up and join in he stumbled when standing from his seat, wobbled on his little legs and almost dropped the book he had all but forgotten he was reading. Grace was not on his side yet but his reflexes were already well-tuned, he caught the book and himself before he could properly fall, set the heavy novel down where he’d been sat seconds before and sheepishly wandered across the room to join the circle in the very spot where Yvette had been sat before. He crossed his legs and set his hands carefully in his lap, his fingers linking together. Now he was sat down he could see what Seth had stunned everyone else with earlier, it was a large wooden board and upon it the alphabet was engraved and numbers 1-0, as well as three words; yes, no and goodbye. It was a ouija board. Tyler knew because he’d read about them, he’d read a lot about ways to talk to the dead since he’d lost his parents. Granted, he didn’t know exactly how it worked so when Seth insisted he be the first to use it- it was his board, after all- he saw no reason to argue. Not that he could, even if he really wanted to. He watched, fascinated, as Seth pressed a wooden arrow-shaped object with curved edges to the board and held it still with two fingers. He said a lot of what sounded like nonsense but Tyler didn’t question it, Seth was a decent reader too, he might have been taught something like this if he wanted it.
“Spirits, if you are near then let us know it, talk to us!”
The pointer stayed still. Five seconds. Then ten. Then.. it moved. A swift jolt towards the top of the board that caused a chorus of gasps around the circle, even Tyler found his eyes wide.
“Can you hear me, spirits?”
It moved again. Stopped abruptly.
Yes.
Tyler spared a glance towards his cousin, even he seemed surprised, a hint if disbelief behind the smile that spread across his face.
“My name is Seth Envest, do you know who I am?”
The pointer shook in place but didn’t move.
Yes.
“Who are you?”
The pointer stayed still a moment and then pulled down the board towards the alphabet below, it skirted over letters before coming to a stop on one. R. It paused then continued again. E. Tyler sucked in a breath, he found his gaze shifting to his cousin again and found Seth staring right back at him, his eyes wide too.
“Rory Envest.”
Tyler’s heart lurched. Daddy. It had been so long. The last time he’d seen him... well, Tyler didn’t much like to think about the last time he’d seen him, where he’d left him, sometimes in his head he imagined that maybe he’d never been moved from the spot- his mother too- and they were still just there, lying side by side on the ground. Cold. Lifeless. He was still looking at Seth, not fully convinced he’d heard his cousin right, trying to figure out if there was any other possibility... when the pointer moved again. He whipped his head back towards the board as the pointer began to move frantically across the letters.
F.
I.
“He had a message! Quick, write it down!”
It was difficult to say who Seth was talking too but Tyler didn’t care, he didn’t look up from the board now as the pointer travelled back and forth across it. Everyone else in the circle seemed to be holding their breaths, tense in their spots, but Tyler leant forward as close to the board as he could without toppling right over onto it. The pointer was moving so fast, when it paused it only paused very briefly, he tried to keep up with the places it stopped but letters came and went before he could catch them all.
A.
L.
How was anyone writing this down?
E.
E.
Suddenly the pointer stopped and all was quiet except for his own breath, which was erratic, he was having a hard time taking breaths in. For a near minutes he remained staring at the board, waiting for any more letters to come, but when he didn’t he looked up. The boy beside Seth had a notepad in his lap, a pencil in his hand, he must have been writing the letters down and now he was staring at the page with his mouth hung open. After what seemed like forever, Seth snatched the pad from the boy and, to his surprised, pushed it towards Tyler.
“It’s for you.”
His heart was in his throat, his hands were shaking as he took the very edges of the notebook into his grasp, everyone looking towards him expectantly.
FILTHYHALFBREED
His brows furrowed.
“What’s that?”
Seth’s voice was very far away and yet somehow right in his ears. He was laughing, a victorious bark of laughter leaving him and a fit of giggles taking over much of the other children in the circle- in fact, all of them, save for the twins.
“Filthy. Half. Breed.”
His fingers stretched in a jolt, the note falling from his grip. His whole body shaking.
“You didn’t really think we could talk to your traitor of a father, did you?”
He couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t for lack of trying but when he sucked in a breath he was shaking so much that it didn’t seem to quite make it. And they were laughing properly now. He knew why, of all the things that could make the moment so much worse it was already happening, even as his face grew hot with embarrassment he could feel the warmth of tears as they began rolling down his cheeks. He was sobbing. No sound came from him but his body shook with the effort of attempting to keep them down, tears dripped over his face and off his chin, he unconsciously curled himself up to shield himself from all the eyes on him.
“Awww, the half breed’s crying, it’s your own fault for having all that dirty blood.” Seth was saying, his words taking large bites out of Tyler’s ability to think. “You should thank me- look at you! Even your stupid father would be ashamed if he saw you like this, you’re pathetic, you’re stupid and no one wants you. Not us. Not grandmother. Not my parents. Not even your own dead parents would ever want-”
“Seth!” The hiss came from Yvette.
“Seth!” The twins joined in, Sorcha continuing the sentiment with a fierce, “Stop it! You’re being horrible!”
The two of them, blonde pigtails in bobbing, lunged across the circle at their brother and began pummelling him with their tiny fists. It was too late though, Tyler had no space in his heart to be grateful, it was thrumming in his ears and aching in his chest. He scrambled back from the circle, feet pushing him back across the floor, and rolled onto his knees to push himself up. He made to run and this time didn’t catch himself, this time he went tumbling to the floor with a thud. Once again the circle erupted with laughter. He could barely see now as he pushed himself up with his fists balled, stumbled a few steps in his stupid, stiff new shoes, but once he was up he ran and he ran. He ran straight out of the room, bashing himself into the door on the way, and kept running, he ran all through the house and along almost-pitch-black corridors until he ran into his room and straight into his bed. He flung himself upon it, legs flailing as his hands took hold of the sheets and he used the grip to pull himself further onto the mattress. He turned his face down and though no sound came out, he screamed and screamed and screamed. Until his lungs burnt out.
~~~
Tyler shot up in bed gasping for air.
It was nearly Halloween. 2015. He was safe, at Alastair’s town house.
Though it took him a moment to realise that, his heart was pounding hard in his chest and panic was still etched into the fleeting memory his dreams had unlocked for him. He was shaking. A familiar feeling. His body tense. He didn’t want to move because, as his senses began to come back to him and reality bled in, he realised with much discomfort that his clothes were drenched and sticking to him. Sweat. He shuddered. Cold, despite his predicament. And alone. His eyes searched the room and sure enough he was alone. When he exhaled his lungs heaved. It took some persuading to get his legs to willingly push the covers down his body towards his feet, as he shuffled them down he pat the fabric, it wasn’t too wet. He could change them tomorrow. His clothes, on the other hand... Tyler remained tense as he shuffled to the edge of the bed and set his feet down on the ground. He was still shaking when he stood, wobbly and with his head swimming, he had to take a moment to steady himself on the dresser before he could go to the en suite. The first thing he did was peel off his clothes, his top first and then his boxers followed, he kicked them away from him and left them on the floor. When he looked in the mirror he was immediately put off by his reflection. He stood rigid, with his arms held out instinctively at his sides, the hair that fell at the back of his neck was clumped together in hideous rat tails and clung to his skin. Goosebumps were present everywhere. Still shaking, he turned the tap on hot and immediately soaked a washcloth under it. He wiped himself down, every inch that he could reach, starting with his face and the back of his neck, all the way down to his wobbly legs. When he was finished he splashed cold water on his face.
He returned to bed, unsteady on his feet but clean, to find Alice sat in the centre of it. If a cat could look concerned that would surely be her expression. He merely shook his head, as if to tell her it wasn’t worth talking about. Tyler couldn’t bear thinking about it. He acquired new boxers first and felt somewhat better when he pulled them on. He was cold now though. Tyler crouched so he could root through a drawer of long-sleeved tops, made with thicker fabrics, things he didn’t always sleep in because they were too warm. At the very bottom of the drawer, tucked away safely, was a hoodie that didn’t belong to him. Tyler pulled it on over his head but kept his face tucked into the neck, when he breathed in he wanted to cry. It smelt like the castle and lazy days spent lounging in a common room that wasn’t his own, limbs tangled up with a boy whose very existence made him feel safer. Back when he was a child there’d been no golden haired boys to dream about.
Tyler climbed back into bed, exhausted though he’d been asleep for hours. As he pulled the covers back over him, Alice adjusted herself accordingly. She came trotting up the bed and when he curled up she managed to squeeze herself between his chest and his knees- above the covers though, she had far too much fur to be tucked under quilts too. She purred and purred, doing her best to comfort him, while Tyler squeezed his eyes shut and kept his face buried against Jeremy’s hoodie. If he tried hard enough he could pretend it had never happened. Some things were better off considered dreams.
#[ drabbles ]#abuse tw#bullying tw#death mention tw#racism tw#I'm not??? like idk if racism is the right tag tbh but it's pureblood prejudice and it's kinda meant to represent racism in the magical#world but ejrgbhrge I'm never entirely sure that's the tag I should use or even feel comfortable using#but for lack of a better description it's what we've got#also Ty's family are literally trash and his childhood was a disgrace#also ok in terms of context Ty would've been 7 during this time#his cousin about 9/10 (can't remember exactly)#Ty was pretty much still mute at this point except he'd gone from completely mute to being selective#he could pretty much talk to the elves the twins and his grandmother on occasion and largely because he was terrified of being passed along#to another member of his family
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why do you think maggie would like jess? why do you like him? why aren't you team logan
Hi, so I just want to preface this by saying this is literally all just my opinion and I don’t want to start fights with people over Gilmore Girls, I truly do not care that much. You have your ships, I have mine. Okay? Okay.
So I never said @friarlucas (yes, I am tagging you) would like Jess, I said Jess reminded me of the Lucas in her fic, atlp (ao3, ff.net). I truly don’t know who Maggie would like because Maggie is her own person who is prone to liking blonde white boys (love you Magpie).
As for why I like Jess, short answer, I’m poor. But seriously, I just think he was unfairly treated a lot of the time by the characters and the narrative itself.
In the first episode he’s introduced we hear Lorelai say that she “get’s him,” and listen, I hate it when rich characters do that to poor characters. Lorelai grew up in a privileged household with two parents and never had to worry about money. I am not excusing how her parents treated her at times, but to say that to a teenager who has one parent, who shipped him off to a different state to live with an uncle he never knew, and who showed signs of an abusive childhood (listen, look, I’m taking a child psychology class and am a psychology major and know what childhood abuse looks like due to personal and professional contexts, so I do know a little about this subject) had the same experience as her is flat out not true. After this, Lorelai never gave him a chance and just painted him as a bad guy forever. Even in the revival while her perfect daughter was a mess, she still had some bitter things to say about him.
Now let’s move on to Rory. Look, I like literati, but in the world of Gilmore Girls, I am a Jess fan first. Jess gets a lot of hate for their relationship when Rory wasn’t the best person either? Like she kisses him, tells him not to tell anyone, and then doesn’t contact him? She gets jealous over Shane and is hateful towards a girl who happens to not read? She didn’t trust him about the black eye and was constantly comparing him to Dean? She tried using him in season 6? Like Jess wasn’t perfect, but putting all the blame on him when Rory shares it too is unfair.
Now Luke. Luke didn’t know how to raise a child and obviously went with the tough love approach with Jess and truthfully, I didn’t agree with all that he did. For example, kicking Jess out when he knew how much of a hard time he was having with his dad who left when he was a baby showing up 18 years later. LIKE I KNOW IT WAS FOR THE FAILED SPIN OFF BUT STILL. Another thing I really didn’t like about Luke was that he was constantly protecting Rory before he protected Jess. And look, Jess has to hear, from Rory, from Lorelai, from everyone, that Luke is this great guy who was always there for Rory, but if I was Jess I’d be thinking, “okay but he’s my uncle and was never there for me.” Like, it’s not unheard of that Jess would be mad at Luke for not being there for him, his blood family, and instead being there for Rory. When they first started dating Luke gave Jess a lecture about not hurting Rory but never thought about Jess’ well being? Don’t get me wrong, I still love their relationship, but it makes sense to me that Jess wasn’t completely nice to Luke all the time?
I was going to combine stuff about his parents into the Luke section but that got too long so here we are. Jess’ parents are literally a mess. Liz was first introduced as a negligent and possibly abusive parent. Then in season 4 we’re supposed to think Jess is the bad guy for not wanting to walk his “whack-job” mother down the isle? Like I’m sorry but a neglected and/or abused child doesn’t owe their parents anything (I speak from experience so do not try to argue with me about this). And his dad left when he was a baby and then shows up randomly 18 years later. Jess has to beg him to let him stay with him after Luke kicks him out? Like…they’re bad parents.
Finally, just everyone in general. Like everyone in Stars Hallow thinks he’s bad news for what? Stealing baseballs? I’m shaking in my boots. I genuinely think Jess felt so much judgement from that town that he felt trapped; going from a big city like New York, where anonymity is a given, to Stars Hallow, where everyone knows who you are and are constantly judging you is a difficult change. Also, no one likes being judged? Personally I feel like Jess is a classic case of hearing people say you’re a bad person and won’t amount to anything and then believing it.
I don’t know if any of this makes sense and I kinda just rambled. Basically, I see a lot of my brothers and even myself in Jess. I feel empathy for him because I’ve been in a lot of these same situations. No, I didn’t disrespect people or steal gnomes, I was more of the perfectionist who tried her best to make sure her brothers were okay, but I understand why he feels the way he does and think some people in the fandom truly downplay how much child abuse/neglect and poverty together can impact a person. I’m a big proponent about the whole, “just because you had a shitty life, doesn’t mean you have excuses for treating other people like crap,” sentiment but it’s not a crime to have empathy/sympathy for a teenager who, in the end, did atone for his mistakes and showed growth? Not everyone who has a hard life is going to be rainbows and sunshine. Again, these are just reasons I like him; you don’t have to.
As for not being team Logan, I truly do not care that much the more I get through my rewatch. I think he’s a privileged white boy, and at this point in my life, I don’t care about seeing these stories. Even with Rory’s storylines I find myself rolling my eyes at the amount of privilege she has and how much she ignores this privilege. I still like the show and characters overall, but it’s just not my life and I don’t have a connection to these storylines. Regarding the relationship itself, I again, just don’t care? Like I disagree with how Logan tries to make Rory feel like she’s in the wrong a lot of the time (the “seeing other people” thing, the bridesmaids incident, the marriage ultimatum), and of course I hate their revival storyline, but if you ship it, fine? I just liked literati more? Even though Jess deserves better than Rory 2kforever.
I hope this answered something, sorry if I just rambled like a mess.
#ask#anon#discourse#jess mariano#anti logan huntzberger#anti rogan#i'm tagging in case people have jess blocked or whatever#this is so much longer than was expected#also i'm not really anti i just don't care
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I'd love to read something from Broken Sundays where Clarke and Lexa see each other during one of their breaks. Thank you!
It’s been just under six months and Clarke has come to the illogical conclusion that even the air tastes different now that Lexa isn’t a main player in her life anymore. She remembers talking to her friends about it at college, when it first happened, about how food just wasn’t as satisfying and sleep wasn’t as easy and they all made noises in the right places and would regurgitate lines about time healing all wounds and how she needs to go through each stage of grief and own it.
Which is all bullshit in her very valid opinion because time does heal all wounds and it doesn’t hurt like it used to but Lexa is no longers hers and, honestly, it’s the worst feeling in the world. Just because she doesn’t cry at night or physically long for Lexa’s touch like she did in those first few weeks doesn’t mean that she still doesn’t feel that loss, that pain.
On her worst days she remembers everything. She looks through pictures and images of a younger Lexa and her younger self smile back at her, shoulders and cheekbones fading from sun kissed and freckled all the way through to wrapped in layers and dusted with snow. There are presents that she reminds herself of, little gifts they’ve given one another, and they make her smile. It all makes her smile and and cry and laugh she wonders if she should do such a thing but then she stops and thinks and she knows that of course she should smile! Being with Lexa was the happiest time of her life and denying that, being sad about it, is almost a disservice to everything that they went through.
When they broke up it was easy. Clarke is very aware that, for some, those words don’t make sense but her and Lexa have never done anything the simple way. It was painful and scary and awful when they broke up, yes. But it was easy. Because it was through communication and understanding and mutual love for one another that it happened. And she knows, they both know, that it isn’t forever anyway.
It can’t be.
Clarke once vowed to herself that she would love Lexa forever the moment that the brunette kissed her with her caramel sweet tongue.
----
“It’s okay. The bedroom isn’t much to rave about but the kitchen is big and the backyard is awesome so I can’t complain,” her dad tells her when she asks about his new house and she keeps a smile on her face in an attempt to sound happy when she speaks to him. The thought of her parents not living together hurts her a lot, especially when she knows she’s the main cause of their breakdown, and she tries not to dwell on it too much. “I think you’ll like it. You can help me pick out some things the next time you come home. I think it needs a real artists touch to make it pop.”
“One daughter complete with interior designs coming your way in the near future,” she laughs softly and she puts her hand over her eyes when he cheers down the phone, completely embarrassed by his antics despite being alone in her bedroom and with nobody in her shared house at all. “You’re so lame.”
“How dare you speak to such a cool and amazing dad like that?”
“Oh, I dare,” Clarke grins and it’s the widest she’s smiled in absolute months. She will always and forever thank the stars that fate twisted and turned and adjusted just enough that Jake Griffin was her father. “I’ll let you know closer to the date when I’ll be back but I already can’t wait to see you, dad.”
“I’ve missed you too, kid,” he says and Clarke can hear the wistful sigh in her voice. In her mind's eye she sees him in his brown leather chair, his feet kicked up in front of him as he rests a cup of coffee on his stomach. She can practically smell his aftershave, the laundry detergent he uses, she can feel the softness of pillows beneath her as she sits in the room with him and meets eyes that look so much like hers. “Will Lexa be coming back with you?”
“We broke up, dad. I told you.”
“I remember, I’m not that old just yet. I thought you said that you were still friends?”
“We are but it’s different,” Clarke replies and she feels herself becoming distant. Because she has really spoken to Lexa in weeks and she hasn’t seen her in a long, long time.
There was a time when Clarke could rattle off what Lexa was doing, right down to the very minute, but she struggles now to even remember what days her long classes are on. She wonders if there is another girl with this knowledge, if there is someone else who knows Lexa’s quirks and tastes and feelings.
There is nothing more in this world Clarke wants more than to know Lexa is happy but she squashes her thoughts of someone else rapidly because, oh.
That’s not something she can think about yet.
“I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could take away what you’re feeling.”
She smiles at that because her dad might be the most perfect person put onto this world. “I’m a lot better than I was,” she admits and she hears him let out a satisfied sigh at that. “Dad, do you think that you could ever be friends with mom again?”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone and Clarke closes her eyes. Her parents were happy before and even if she has no regrets about coming out, about meeting Lexa and finding love, she knows it put an unbelievable amount of strain on her parents. When the separation came, Clarke cried for hours in Lexa’s arms. And it didn’t matter how often Lexa or her dad or Raven would tell her that her mother's actions had nothing to do with her; it didn’t matter.
Guilt built and built and built.
And the higher it grew, the stronger it became, and it chipped away at the walls her and Lexa had built their future in and it broke down her defence and before she knew what was happening she was alone.
Alone and rebuilding and sad.
“No, I suppose not in the traditional way,” he finally says and Clarke just nods because there isn’t much comfort she can give. Her dad has insisted too many times to count that she isn’t to blame, that it wasn’t her fault and that even adults fall out of like with one another before they fall out of love. But still, that means nothing when the family dynamic she knew so well growing up broke into pieces the moment she held a girls hand. “I just hoped Lexa would stick around for you, you know? I liked her.”
“So did I,” Clarke laughs but it’s wet and sad and she longs for walks along that river to ease the sadness. “I always knew you liked her more than me.”
“Oh Clarke, of course I liked her more than you,” Jake teases but there is nothing to it and they softly make their way into silence before they finally say goodbye to one another.
They didn’t just break up, Clarke thinks as she lays back on her bed and ignores how hard her heart is beating, they broke everything.
----
Of all the people she’s ever known in her life, she never expected Finn Collins to turn up and come stumbling in like a newborn foal on a rainy Friday night. When she left Arkadia to dive headfirst into life and college and her relationship with Lexa she had simply assumed she’d left the long-haired beautiful boy back in the small town. It’s not difficult for Clarke to remember how sweet he was back then, even if a little flawed, and memories of him asking her to be his girlfriend in a soft voice at a Christmas dance swirl in her mind a little as he stands in the little diner and looks at Clarke with awe and shock and envy.
His face when she broke up that Thursday night in Spring was that of a broken little boy but, as he stands from his booth, he’s a man and it makes Clarke proud to see how much he’s grown and filled out and changed. There’s a small boy in across the table from him and she’s curious but, instead, she makes her way over to him with a small laugh and her arms outstretched.
When he wraps her in a gentle embrace, it’s nice. His arms have filled out from what Clarke remembers and there’s a distinct brush of stubble against her temple as he pulls his body away from hers, his aftershave filling her senses and taking her back to her first true boyfriend.
“Trust us to move out of the smallest town ever to exist and explore the big bad world and still manage to find one another,” Finn laughs and he’s attractive and wonderful and a thought fills Clarke that she hopes he’s happy. He really deserves to be happy. “What are you doing here, Griffin?”
“Studying,” she says and she knows she should be working but Finn is the only customer currently and her boss is easy-going when it comes to Clarke, she knows that. “I came here for college. What about you?”
Finn watches her curious eyes and he swallows a little, his hand coming to the back of his neck. “So this is Rory,” he finally introduces and Clarke schools her face enough that it lets Finn continue, his posture relaxing some. “He’s my boy. He’ll be two in August.”
“You’re a dad?”
“Strange how life is, huh?”
Clarke laughs a little at that but there isn’t a judging bone in her body, not for this. Looking at little Rory even she can see he is happy and healthy and his tiny arms have little rolls on them that she wasn’t to squeeze and adore. Thin brown hair cover his head and his inquisitive brown eyes take her but he doesn’t speak, a shy smile breaking across his chubby cheeks instead.
“Two?”
“That summer after we graduated high school was intense,” he chuckles but there’s a sad look in his eyes that Clarke doesn’t want to deepen and she knows he’s probably had it rough, being so young and being a dad. “I’m lucky because Marie, his mom, is really good. She lets me see him as much as I want which is amazing.”
Clarke nods, supportive. “Does she live here in the city?”
“Oh, no, I’m just here to meet my mom,” he says and a dark look crosses his face. “She hasn’t really met him yet and she doesn’t want me taking him to Arkadia. You know how people talk. Marie lives here so I’m visiting.”
The sardonic tone isn’t lost on Clarke and she knows Finn is talking about people like her mom, she isn’t an idiot. It hurts to know the town is still the same, that nothing has changed, and she reaches out to put her hand on his arm. “At least I’m not the centre of attention anymore,” she tries and that makes Finn laugh, his own hand coming to brush through his hair, and he nods at her.
“You and Lexa did stir up quite the scandal,” he muses. Rory makes a frustrated noise and he turns his attention back to his son, sitting down to give him attention. “How is she? Are you both doing alright?”
“She’s fine, we’re doing good,” she says and her eyes widen at that, knowing how wrong it sounded, and she tries to correct herself but Finn looks at her with a wide smile before she can explain.
“I knew you two would make it,” he says and guilt drops in her stomach because they didn’t make it and she’s more aware of that than anyone. “Listen, can I give you my number? It’d be awesome to catch up properly. You can bring Lexa too if you want.”
She agrees and silently thanks the stars that some customers walk in, college students with unlimited stomachs and good tips, and she apologises before she moves away.
I knew you two would make it, feels more like a hammer to her chest than a complimentary sentence and she forgets to say goodbye to Finn as he leaves, so lost in her own thoughts.
----
Her faith has stayed as important to her now as it was then. She knows people question it, tell her how the LGBTQ community is looked down upon and hated by religion, but Clarke has always found solace in her beliefs.
St. Patrick’s Church welcomed her with open arms when she tentatively stepped in during her first year of college and have done nothing but support and love her since. Her sexuality doesn’t define her and she grew tired of being ‘Clarke Griffin, Bisexual’ a long time ago, instead wishing people would discuss her talents or her humor or her brain. Church gave her that relief and, as she sits in a pew and links her fingers, she’s glad she didn’t give it up like she wanted to all those years ago.
“Good evening, Clarke,” Father Michael says as he passes by her and Clarke smiles, comfortable that he knows who she is, and she sits back as he considers her for a few moments. “Seeking warmth from that awful chill?”
“Just needed the quiet to collect my thoughts,” she admits with a soft chuckle and even with the lights and the colourful pictures and kind face of her Pastor, she can still hear Finn’s words. “I knew you’d make it,” repeats in her mind and she wonders if everyone believed in them, wonders if they were the only two people who didn’t manage to see it through. “And it’s warm.”
He smiles at that, deep set wrinkles next to his mouth forming at her young words. “Can I help?”
“No,” she says and she isn’t avoiding the subject or the need to talk about it. This is just something she needs to work through alone. Between the conversation with her dad, and then with Finn, a once muted person has rammed back into her life on full volume and she wishes she knew how to handle it. Breaking up with Lexa was painful, she reminds herself, but remembering her seems to be worse.
He hums softly, a kind noise. “Your friend was in earlier,” he says to her and Clarke looks up, not surprised at all to know he’s talking about Lexa. It seems, to her at least, that everyone is talking about her recently. “She needed to clear her thoughts too, I think.”
“Was she okay?”
“Oh,” he sighs and he turns to look at her completely, his attention on her fully even as others walk into the Church and find a place amongst the seats to find peace too. “I’m sure she will be.”
Clarke knows he won’t divulge much more than that and she’s accepting of it, not wanting to pry into Lexa’s personal life with her faith more than she ever needs to. In that first year in college there was a struggle for Lexa between herself and her faith and Clarke remembers how she pulled away from the Church for a long time until one summer evening. A mild night where Lexa got ready with Clarke and they made their way to St. Patrick’s together.
“I miss her,” Clarke admits and Father Michael barely reacts beyond a knowing nod. “I don’t know how to stop missing her.”
“I believe sometimes we have to face loss to understand strength and to understand strength we need to look inside ourselves,” he says softly to her, weathered hands holding onto the wood in front of her and when she meets his eyes all she can see is understanding and kindness. Where was this faith when she was younger? “What does your heart tell you, Clarke?”
“That I miss her.”
He chuckles kindly at that and tilts his head. “Perhaps you should find your peace of mind not here but with her, don’t you think?”
Her eyes widen at that and when she leaves, an hour later and without any real answers, Father Michael simply smiles at her with soft eyes and understanding.
She knows he’s a rare case, that not everyone is as kind and as open as he is, but she hopes the world will learn one day just how easy it is to say yes to love like Father Michael has managed to do.
----
“Careful,” Harper laughs as she walks past Clarke, her tray full of empty milkshake glasses and plates, “I’m slightly worried for my safety with the force of that yawn you just let out.”
Clarke smirks at that and rolls her eyes as the girl brushes into the kitchen area, disposing of the soiled utensils, and Clarke gives herself a little shake as she reminds herself she only has a few hours left at work. She’d stayed up late the night before on an essay that wasn’t due for weeks but she wanted to get it out of the way, mostly so she could spend more time with friends at the weekend and earning some money to go home.
“What time are you working until?” Harper asks as she comes back out. She’s wiping her hands on a towel as she speaks and Clarke groans, her eyes on the black clock above the door that ticks slowly towards her finishing time. “That bad?”
“Seven,” Clarke replies but it still feels like forever away as the time creeps slowly towards five o’clock. It feels like she’s been here all day but there’s a part of her that isn’t too bothered; working keeps her mind busy and the busier her mind is then the less it has time to think about exes and rivers and trees the perfect shade of green.
Harper sympathises softly but then a rowdy group of guys walk in, jeering and catcalling and falling over one another, and for the next hour Clarke doesn’t really think about anything.
----
And of course it happens.
Because it’s Sunday.
Of course it happens.
----
Lexa sees her but she pretends not to and Clarke doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. She watches as the brunette distracts herself by tidying away her menu but, in turn, all she manages to do is knock her napkins and cutlery from the table with a clatter loud enough to make the boys at the long table cheer.
There’s a deep blush on her cheeks as Clarke makes her way over and it’s so deliciously attractive that, for a moment, Clarke forgets she’s at work and has an urge to wrap her fingers around Lexa’s wrist and run, run, run away from prying eyes and fluorescent lighting and jukebox music that doesn’t fit the moment.
“You’ve cut your hair,” is the first thing Lexa says to her in six months and it’s oh so Lexa that Clarke can do nothing, absolutely nothing, but laugh. She was going to be good, she was going to take her order and act like Lexa was another customer but her eyes are green and her lips are soft and Clarke is doomed.
She’s always been doomed.
“Do you like it?”
Lexa blushes again, long fingers tapping on the table, and she nods. “I think you’re aware that I like anything when it comes to you,” she says--no breathes--and just like that, just that suddenly, Clarke feels peace and serenity and glee wash over her in waves and waves and waves. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to --”
“Thank you,” Clarke interrupts. She knows what Lexa is like, she knows she’ll fumble and apologise and pretend like she didn’t mean the honest words she spoke and Clarke doesn’t want that. She’s always been most in love with this candid Lexa; the Lexa that shared cider with her and laughed deeply and held her hand in public. “You look good too, Lexa.”
There’s a moment where things go quiet and if it wasn’t for the rosy pink on Lexa’s cheeks, the swell of her smile and the bright shine in her eyes Clarke would think she’s just said something wrong. But she knows she hasn't. She knows the brief compliment is blooming inside Lexa’s chest, stretching and growing and flowering into a feeling neither of them have forgotten. She watches as Lexa’s jaw flexes a few times, her throat bobbing under words she can’t place right now, and she stands.
Patient.
If she thinks hard enough she can feel the breeze from the river, can hear the clacking of stones breaking over one another, the shuffle of animals as they dance through trees and long grass and flowers.
She can smell perfume and hot cocoa and taste strawberries and caramel and apples.
If she tries hard enough and closes her eyes tightly then she can pretend it’s just her and Lexa and the world begins to spin again.
“When do you finish?”
Lexa’s voice startles her, calm and relaxed and without the shake her own reply has. “An hour, and then I don’t really have much else to do.”
“Hm,” she acknowledges and she taps at the table again, nervous and unsure and beautiful. “I’ll have a black coffee then, please. Take your time. I’m in no rush.”
Clarke grins, able to read Lexa’s words better than anything written by any author in history. She ignores Harper’s questioning glare and the tut she hears from another table for waiting so long and makes her way to get a singular black coffee, two sugars, and hopes Sunday’s go back to being everything for her.
----
With Spring rising, the light of the evening is pale and romantic and the streets are mild enough to walk with a small jacket. The sidewalks paint themselves with pale yellows and reds and greys as the sun dips behind buildings ready to bring the day to an end. Lexa walks next to her, her left hand occasionally brushing Clarke’s right, and it shouldn’t be so easy to fall back into such rhythm with a girl who bundled up her heart and carried it away with one last embrace.
“Did you know Finn was in the city?” Clarke starts and it’s so awkward how Finn manages to be the topic of conversation for her that her fingers flex tightly at her sides. Finn was always the boy that kissed Clarke first, who touched Clarke first, but Lexa seems to ignore all of that and makes a noise of genuine interest at the subject. “He has a son?”
“I’m sure his mother loves that,” Lexa says and Clarke feels pride grow in her when her tone holds nothing but concern and kindness. She thinks back to Anya and Aden and the things people would say about them, the beliefs they held, and she purses her lips together as Lexa presses forward. “He’s our age, right? That must be hard.”
Clarke nods, awe in her eyes at the mature girl in front of her and she doesn’t know why she’s so surprised. Six months is an intake of breath in the long life she knows her and Lexa have together but she can’t deny how much she’s missed, perhaps forgotten. “He seems to be okay. He said the mother is really good with him and he looks genuinely happy. It was nice to see.”
“I’m glad.”
“He said he knew we’d always make it,” she blurts out and she wishes she knew why she said it because the heavy feeling drops in her stomach again. If Lexa is surprised by the subject change she doesn’t let on but the spark in her eyes dulls a little and she drops her head, eyes focusing on her steps instead of glancing over at Clarke. “I would have corrected him but I so wanted it to be true that I think I forgot.”
“We’ve made it out of that town, so he isn’t entirely wrong,” Lexa muses and there’s a wistful sigh to her voice, a beautiful tone that aches deep inside of Clarke. Everything inside of her screams at her to soothe Lexa, to hold her hand and assure her that it’s okay, but she shoves her hands inside the denim of her jacket instead and nods. “We’re studying subjects we love, have hobbies we enjoy. In one way we have made it.”
“Except for our relationship,” Clarke says, because one of them had to.
“Except for our relationship,” Lexa concedes and suddenly stops walking, her body several steps behind Clarke for a few seconds until the blonde notices, and when she turns Lexa is looking at her with such determination that her body trembles. “You know, I don’t plan on this break lasting forever Clarke. There is no scenario I can imagine in which I spend any single second of my life not loving you. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Absolutely not,” Lexa teases and Clarke hasn’t heard a more perfect reply in her life.
---
Clarke’s apartment block appears a lot sooner than either of them would have liked. The high archway and brown doorway looms from the sidewalk and Lexa looks at it for long moments, her eyes filling with memories. Clarke can see them running up the steps during a rainstorm, their hair soaked and droplets falling from their lips as they kissed and kissed and kissed. How they sat there studying, a thermos of hot chocolate between them, and Clarke laughing with Lexa’s roving commentary as people walked past.
She wonders what they would have looked like back then, two girls completely enamoured with each other, lips and skin and hearts painted with kisses from the other.
She wonders if people were envious of them, of the love they shared, of their lives.
She finds herself envious of her own past, even as she stands at the bottom of the stoop with the girl of her dreams in the city that managed to shape every single aspect of her life.
“My dad has a new house,” Clarke says softly, desperate to keep the conversation moving. “He finally moved out of that awful apartment and he wants me to go back and help decorate.”
“I know,” Lexa smirks and Clarke’s eyes widen enough that she rushes to explain, her hand lifting to push hair back over her own ear in a nervous gesture. “We talk sometimes. Jake and I.”
Clarke rolls her eyes because of course they do, of course her dad would be too kind to let the girl his daughter fell in love with suffer a breakup alone. “I should have known you two would team up behind my back.”
“Don’t tell Anya. I think she still harbours a crush on your dad, you know?”
“Shut up,” Clarke giggles and she reaches her hand out to slap at Lexa’s forearm. It takes less than a second for Lexa to capture her hand, to hold it against her arm with a soft smile, and her thumb runs over Clarke’s knuckles with a confidence that neither of them have felt in months and months and months. “I’ve missed you so much, Lexa.”
For the first time since they started talking Clarke sees tears line green eyes; they build from the bottom, black eyeliner running only just, and her heart clenches. Because they’re beautiful and tragic and so in love it hurts. “If you only knew how empty I’ve been without you, you’d understand how much I’ve missed you too,” she says and Lexa has always had a way with words, a way to make something so simple a masterpiece, and she runs her hand down Lexa’s forearm to link their fingers together.
“When we broke up you told me that you needed to understand yourself, have you found answers?”
Lexa shakes her head slowly, her feet shifting ever closer to Clarke’s, and she sniffs softly. “I’m not going to stand here and lie and say breaking up with you was wrong and I know I can say that because I know you agree,” she starts and Clarke can do nothing but nod.
Two years she spent with Lexa and she slowly went from being Clarke Griffin, to being Clarke and Lexa, to being Lexa’s girlfriend. And she knows that wasn’t ever Lexa’s intentions or plan and it certainly wasn’t hers for Lexa either; they lost their sense of identity, so wrapped up in one another, and while she lost her heart on that autumn evening she began to find herself again.
“I know who I am with you and I know who I am without you, and I can honestly say that who I am without you is only half a person,” Lexa continues and she smiles softly at the girl in front of her. “Truth is I’m miserable without you and I’ve learnt to be without you. I don’t know if you need more time and if you do then that’s okay, but you’re my inevitability Clarke. You’re as inevitable as Sunday’s appearing each week. I hope you know that.”
Clarke nods, gentle and slow and her heart beats loudly in her chest. “You’ve always been inevitable to me,” she says and watches Lexa swallow thickly, an emotion filling her eyes that almost overcomes them both. “Do you want to come inside? It’s warmer.”
“Are you trying to proposition me, Clarke Griffin?”
“If I was you’d already be inside,” she fires back and revels in the laughter she receives, the pure happiness. There’s a light in Lexa’s eyes that only appears with her and it grounds Clarke while simultaneously making her believe she can fly. But Lexa has always done that to her, always made her feel incredible and special and like she’s everything. One smile and she’s done. One little smile and she sees her future. “Come inside, Lexa.”
Lexa nods, already tugging a little at Clarke’s hand. “It’s Sunday, isn’t it? There isn’t anywhere else in the world I’d rather be.”
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