#I go back in time so i can enjoy it firs time around then record | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sometimesanalice · 2 years ago

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Oh Christmas Tree

Summary: Bradley’s never been one to look forward to the holidays, that is until he met you. He’s excited to do everything, including getting his very first real Christmas tree.

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, allusions to smut. Minors DNI.

Length: 7.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(What was supposed to be a quick fluffy Christmas fic, somehow turned into this, enjoy!)

The atmosphere at the Hard Deck was livelier than usual, the music seemed more upbeat and the voices a little louder. It was the first time in a while that the entire Dagger Squad was together in one place. News of the success of the Uranium Mission traveled fast and had been keeping them busy in the months that had followed.

Things seemed to settle down a bit as the holidays rolled around, some has dispersed home for Thanksgiving while a few others had been given last minute orders to ship out for a short mission. You’d been dying to take Bradley Bradshaw home to meet your parents in person, but he had been one of the few sent away only set to return the day after Thanksgiving.

You’re sitting across from Natasha at a high top near the pool tables in the back of the bar listening to Jake talk about his visit home, while your boyfriend next to you talks animatedly about something related to his latest mission with Bob.

“I shaved off an extra 5 minutes from the last Trot. Turns out I’m in even better shape than I was the last time I was home for Thanksgiving,” Jake brags smugly taking a swig of his beer from his nearly empty bottle.

“Wait, you come from a Turkey Trot family? That explains so much. Please tell me, you guys wear matching Seresin family shirts for it too,” you tease without remorse. “Oh! Or maybe those turkey leg bobble headbands?”

You hear Bradley snort into his beer as he drops a well-defined arm across your shoulders. He’s wearing one of your favorite Hawaiian shirts from his collection, and you’ve been having a hard time keeping your eyes and hands to yourself.

“Bradshaw! Are you going to let your girl trash talk me like that?” You turn to Bradley to see him smirk with a shrug at Jake’s indignation.

“I mean, if the headband fits,” he replies lifting his bottle up in cheers.

“Darlin’, you wound me. And for the record they don’t match, since we all get to decorate our own with those paints in the little squeeze bottles,” he says pointing his empty bottle at you before turning to Bradley, “And see if I ever save your smug ass again.” He walks away making his way to the bar for another beer.

“Formal petition to change his callsign to Turkey now. Him and Rooster could be the Bird Bros,” Natasha jokes after he’s out of earshot. “What about you, how was your trip home?”

“It was pretty good,” you feel Bradley start playing with the ends of your hair, while he picks his conversation with Bob back up. “Since my sister had the baby, my parents have been leaning into the new grandparent thing pretty hard. So I set to establishing myself as the fun wine aunt, and basically drank cranberry mimosas all day.” You pause to take a sip of your drink, “Which I regretted immediately the next day when my parents decided it was imperative that we all go to their favorite Christmas tree farm as soon as it opened to cut one down together. Baby’s first Christmas all.” You unlock your phone to pull up the folder you made of pictures from the visit, handing over your phone to let her scroll.

“Since they’re flying out to spend Christmas with my sister and her in-laws in Philly, I tried to talk them into an artificial tree. Which is blasphemy where I’m from, I’m pretty sure the state tree is the Douglas Fir. My family takes the tree hunt very seriously, there’s a science to it and everything,” you lean over to swipe past some of the selfies you took to show her the completed tree in your parents sitting room.

“However, as you can see, my attempt to talk them into the lower maintenance, yet slightly ostentatious, fluffy pink tree of my dreams was met with a hard pass,” you say laughing to yourself.

She swipes backwards a couple times on the pictures. “This one is cute, why didn’t you post this photo?” she asks holding your phone up showing a selfie of you at the tree farm.

“Which one? Let me see,” Bradley requests, his conversation with Bob now abandoned. He’s already leaning into you and reaching across the high top with his large hands to take the phone from Nat.

It was a photo of you that Bradley hadn’t seen before. You were pink nosed wrapped up in cozy looking scarf, surrounded by pine trees and grinning into the camera. And his heart swells at the sight of the image before him. It’s just so you.

“You really look pretty,” he states sincerely. He glances at you briefly to see a hint of a blush spread across your cheeks before turning his gaze back to the picture of you.

He’d known you had been just as eager as he was for to him come home with you to meet your parents in person. You had even concocted a plan that involved him to try and help you get your hands on your Aunt Christine’s corn soufflé recipe.

“My mom has tried to get it for years, and she refuses to share it with anyone!” you’d lamented to him one evening after a couple large glasses of wine. “She always says she’ll email it, but she never does!” You gesture wildly. He loved getting to know all sides of you, but two-drink you was a particular favorite of his.

“Mmm. Girlboss, gaslight, gatekeep,” he nodded along in solidarity.

“Exactly, Bradley! You get it!” You take another long, deep sip of your Merlot, your feet tucked under you on his couch. “Me with my wiles and you with your Rooster charisma, I think this might be the year! I’ll set the groundwork and you can lay the ruggedly-handsome-impossibly-sexy-American-hero-thing on thick,” he loved how animated you were getting and he was having a hard time keeping the indulgent smile off of his face. “And she’ll fall right into our trap and release the goods all while thinking she’s staring in her own Hallmark movie.” He knew he would do anything for you, what his girl wants she gets. If that involves some light to heavy flirting with your aunt, so be it. He was getting soufflé recipe for you one way or another.

However, those plans were quickly dashed when he got the mission orders at the last minute. His stomach was in knots when it came time to tell you, but you were quick to put him at ease by reminding him there was always next year. “Plus” you’d said, “it gives us a whole year to craft our Stealthy Soufflé Scheme. Although, maybe we can pop up in May or June? I want to show you all the sights, we can even go hiking! And I’m definitely planning on taking you on a beer tour.”

“That sounds like the perfect trip, Sweetheart. I’d love that. I’ll see about getting a request submitted first thing in the morning,” he was already setting a reminder in his phone so he wouldn’t get too distracted at work and forget. He wasn’t going to let you down again.

“Oh. That’s probably one I snapped really quick and forgot to send to Bradley. I was probably already spamming him too much as it was,” you answer in response to Natasha’s question. Even though you knew exactly why that one never made it his inbox.

Since you’d be spending the holiday apart, Bradley had requested that you send him pictures throughout your visit so that he didn’t feel like he was missing anything. You had sent him ones of you at the grocery store with your mom, of you holding your niece, a few silly ones fueled by too many champagne heavy mimosas, and some less family friendly shots of you in bed wearing the deep wine-colored lacy lingerie set you had planned to surprise him with. And then a few without the lingerie set too.

You had known he wouldn’t have the best reception, so you sent them as things happened knowing that he’d respond whenever he could. You just wanted them there waiting for him. However, a few days in was getting hard to know what was too much when all you could see were all your outgoing messages to him.

You had felt yourself getting a little self-conscious and started second guessing the things you sent, like the picture from the tree farm. You didn’t want to go overboard and scare him off or make it seem like you were rubbing his face in all the things he was missing while he was on assignment. You had just wanted him to know that you were thinking about him- which was pretty much all the time.

Turning your head to take him in next to you. He’s sitting there with a soft smile on his face while he is tapping away on your phone. When his phone lights up mere moments later, you realize he’d just sent the image to himself and was now paging through the folder looking for others.

“For being a Communications Specialist, you’re really bad about updating your own social media. That one was definitely worthy of making it to the grid,” Nat announces as she slides off the barstool taking Bob with her to go dominate on one of the pool tables.

Bradley hands you your phone back. “You know, I’ve never been to a Christmas tree farm. Or even had a real tree for that matter,” he murmurs a bit ruefully when it’s just the two of you, picking at the label of the bottle Natasha had left behind.

“When I was younger we only ever had a fake tree. And then after my mom passed, everything with Mav, and moving around so much I just kind of didn’t ever want to think about it. I never thought to get anything for myself.” He lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “I’m really happy you’re sticking around to show me the ropes this year,” he says earnestly, sounding much lighter than before.

The thought of him fending for himself for so long makes your heart hurt. You lean into him pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. “I’m happy you want to spend the day with me,” you tell him brushing your nose against his as you pull away.

“I did my good daughter duties, but flying home during the one of busiest days of the year was enough for me. And I wouldn’t want to subject you to the Richardson’s by going to Philly, my parents call them the Dickardson’s for a reason,” making a face that causes him to laugh.

“We’re going to have the best Christmas together, I wouldn’t want to spend the day with anyone else.” This time when you pull him in for another kiss your lips are eager to meet his. The slide of his mouth against yours never fails to make your heart beat wildly in your chest.

You could spend days kissing Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and never want to break for air. It’s only at the sound of someone’s loud wolf whistle that you break apart as you’re brought back the moment.

“You know, I’m still not over the fact that my girlfriend withheld such ‘compelling content’ from me,” he teases, using air quotes the buzzwords he’s heard you say from listening to one too many of your late night zoom meetings.

“It was the last day! You were getting in before me, and I thought you’d want the real deal instead. And to tell the truth, I didn’t know if I was overdoing it. I didn’t want to make you feel left out,” you explain honestly. You’ve always been the type to keep those insecurities to yourself, but you’ve been trying to do better. He makes you feel safe enough to open up without holding back.

“Sweetheart.” He picks up your hand his mustache brushing the back of it as he places a kiss there. “You could never overdo it. Spam away, send me everything. I love getting those pictures, it makes me feel closer to you. But, I do know how you could make it up to me.” As he sends a mischievous wink your way.

You’re hit with a brief vision of you on your knees before him in that wine-colored set he still has yet to see in person.

“Oh, do you?” You ease off your stool to stand in front of him, his legs automatically widening for you to step in between them.

“Wanna come help me pick out a tree this weekend?” he asks, slipping his hands into the back pockets of your jeans to tug you in even closer. “I hear you know a thing or two about picking out the best one,” his eyes crinkle around the edges as he smiles broadly at you.

You don’t bother fighting back the grin that takes over your face. “Stick with me, kid,” you say taking his sunglasses from where they rest against his chest and sliding them on, “I won’t lead you astray.”

Bradley had the best afternoon learning the ins and outs of selecting the perfect tree at the tree lot with you.

He had found a tree place with a festive name that was about 30 minutes away, it was probably a bit different than what you were used to, but he hoped you’d be happy with the options there. He had even called in advance to make sure they had the specific variety your parents usually got after texting with your dad to find out what he should be looking for.

He had wanted to pick you up from your apartment, but you had insisted on meeting him at his place since you had an early work meeting scheduled in the morning. And had greeted you with a coffee in hand from your favorite shop when you arrived.

He’d even worn the plaid flannel shirt you had bought for him when you were visiting home for the occasion. When he parked the Bronco in the lot, you had giddily exclaimed, “Bradley, look at all the trees! There’s way more than I thought there’d be. It smells like home!”

Once you were both out of the car you had grabbed his hand threading your fingers between his, and set off like a woman on a mission. He’d felt rather pleased with himself.

The outdoor speakers were playing the local Christmas radio station and there were rows and rows of trees under a few large white topped tents. He loved how seriously you were taking this, and if he wasn’t already totally enamored with you this would have sealed the deal.

You’d taught him how to determine its freshness, “You have to pull a needle off and see if it bends or snaps. If it snaps then it’s already way too dried out and you’re just purchasing a giant match stick.”

From there the came the scent test, “Now sniff the tree, you have to get your face in there. The stronger the tree scent the longer it will last.”

And finally, the aesthetics.

“I like mine a little girthy and on the fuller side, but that’s all a matter of personal preference. You want some gaps, so that the heavier ornaments can hang better, but not too many. And the top has to be straight, no one wants a lopsided tree topper.”

“That’s not the only thing you like full and girthy,” he couldn’t help but let slip out.

“Bradley, there are children here!” you admonished while looking around wide eyed, but that didn’t stop you from grazing the front of his jeans every chance you got.

So, when he managed to find what you excitedly deemed to be the “absolute most perfect tree!”, he couldn’t help but preen his face feeling a bit warm from the attention and praise you showered him with.

He’d hauled the tree up to the check out where it was bundled while he paid, and then carried it over his shoulder out to the Bronco. You’d trailed behind him carrying the wreath you’d picked out humming along with the music.

“Is there such a thing as a competence kink? Because this,” you had mused gesturing to him tying the tree down in the back, his hands tingling, “is definitely doing it for me.” He had just grinned and shaken his head at you, his face heating up a bit. However, he couldn’t help but flex a bit more for your benefit as he finished up.

And when you made him pull off the road less than 10 minutes later, to indulge in that new self-discovery with your mouth around his cock, well that was very much for his benefit.

Now you’re with him at his place. You guys had wrangled the perfect tree into the house and had gotten it set up in front of his windows in the living room near the upright piano he had tucked in the corner. He loved the smell that was filling the room and the way you’d lit up once it was in place. If he had his way, you’d be around all the time.

Bradley could hear you singing along to the Christmas album he had picked up that was playing on his Dad’s old record player as you worked on putting together some hot toddies in the kitchen. You had put him on light duty, and he was determined to make it the best-looking thing you’ve ever seen.

He worked going round and round the Christmas tree, the lights all shining merrily. He took his time making sure to wrap and tuck the lights around the branches, the cozy glow filling his chest with warmth.

But the longer he worked the more he was starting to get worried that he was coming down with a bug or something, his face starting to feel slightly feverish. His throat getting thick and uncomfortable.

He’d noticed it earlier at the tree lot, but didn’t want to give it too much thought. The Navy had ruined his Thanksgiving plans with you and he didn’t want to let you down again. He worked to string lights on a few more branches adamant to push through for you.

“Sweetheart,” he reluctantly called out to you, “I think I might be coming down with something. I’m not feeling too hot, and my throat is kinda scratchy.” The guilt was starting to settle in the pit of his stomach, maybe if he rested now he could keep it from getting too bad.

He turns to see you coming out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs in your hand, your eyes going wide.

He turns back to the tree looking to see if he accidentally fucked something up. It was his first time with a real tree, maybe the lights needed to be strung differently.

“Bradley. Oh my god.”

You had just put the finishing touches on the hot toddies and were already walking out of the kitchen when Bradley had called out to you. Those beverages were quickly abandoned on his coffee table as you propelled yourself towards him.

His face was brightly flushed and his eyes were shade of red that made your own itch in sympathy. You reach up to tug at the collar of the flannel he was wearing to get a better look at the skin of his neck and chest. The scars on his neck were standing out in contrast to his reddened skin.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” Even his voice was sounding a bit scratchy. You ignore him in favor for undoing the buttons at the cuff and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, trying to not let yourself get too anxious. “You tryin’ to get me to put these lights up topless like some kind of sexy Santa?”

You shush him as you finally get the sleeve rolled up when your suspicions are confirmed, his thick forearm is absolutely covered in angry looking raised red welts.

“Oh no. Roos, baby. You’re breaking out.” Already pulling him away from the 7-foot issue occupying the living room and heading towards the kitchen, “I think you have pine tree allergy.”

He finally looks away from your face and down to his arm, a deep furrow settling over his features, “Oh fuck.” You get him seated at his oval oak dining table grabbing your phone to figure out what to do next.

“Yeah, ‘Oh fuck’,” you repeat back to him eyes skimming the information on the page you clicked into. You’ve always been the type to take charge in a crisis, this would be no different. You’d make sure he’s taken care of the way he needs to be. The way he deserves to be.

“How’s your breathing feel? Is your throat feeling tight or like it’s closing up?” you ask looking up at him.

His red-rimmed honey eyes seem to shift focus like he’s lost in thought for a brief moment.

“Rooster.”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, baby,” he says a bit bashfully. “I’m used to being the one levelheaded in stressful situations, but you should see the intensity on your face. I think you coulda been a pilot.”

“Bradley, I’m flattered. Truly,” you’ve learned that he isn’t the type to say things he doesn’t mean and you respect the hell out of what he does. “Although I’m sure there are a few more qualifications I’d have to pass than that,” you reply lightly, petting the back of his hand resting on the table. “But I need you stick with me here. I just need to figure out if we need to get you to the ER or not.”

He nods. “It’s a little thick, but not like it’s going to close up. And really scratchy, ‘s all.”

“Ok, that’s good. That’s good,” you repeat again more to yourself than him.

You love this man so much, and he deserves the world. This is the last thing you would have wanted for him and his very first, and last, real tree.

You can still hear the record playing in the background as you try not to gnaw on the inside of your cheek working to put your game plan together.

After firing off a quick text to Jake, you quickly pop upstairs to Bradley’s medicine cupboard, hoping that he has some antihistamines tucked away in there. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see the pink box, grabbing it you tear off a couple squares from the silver lined sheet to bring back to him.

He’s still sitting where you left him at the dining table. He’s slumped down in the chair his mouth pulled down at the corners, and you think it’s probably because he’s not feeling the greatest right now. You hand him the meds and a fetch him a glass of water, watching as the tendons of his throat flex as they work to swallow the pills down. The red welts have finally made an appearance there too, and are an angry contrast to his usually golden skin.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, hmm?” You bend down to catch his eyes with your and holding out our hands to him. He nods once taking your smaller hands in his as he lets you pull him up.

You help him to unbutton and remove the flannel shirt trying to avoid further contact with the hives on his body, not wanting to cause him anymore discomfort. Once his wide chest and arms are uncovered, you work his jeans down his thick thighs leaving him in his tight black boxer briefs. There’s nothing more than you love than being up close with Rooster’s body, but right now you’re on a mission and can’t be distracted by all the skin before you.

While you’re still feeling concerned for him, you can feel your anxiety starting to settle a bit from where it was at earlier. You’ve got a plan, you’ve already checked off a few things, and you’ll be able to take a breath once Bradley is taken care of.

He’s ruining everything with you. First Thanksgiving and now Christmas.

How the fuck did he not know he was allergic to pine trees? He’s 35, he should known those kinds of things by now. Shouldn’t he?

He is frustrated as fuck laying on top of the king-sized bed in his darkened bedroom, the stinging of the hives on his arms and upper body were driving him crazy. God, his eyes itched and burned. Although, he couldn’t tell if it as from the reaction to the tree or from fighting the sudden urge to cry for the first time in a very long time.

The afternoon was not going as he had envisioned it. He wanted to sing some carols loudly while getting tipsy off hot toddies with you. Dance with you in between hanging ornaments on the tree. Maybe fuck you under the tree if he played his cards right, he wanted to be the one to get your tinsel in a tangle.

All he had wanted was to make you happy. You weren’t spending Christmas with your family, and he didn’t want you to miss out on anything being in California with him instead. He was really excited about the holiday for the first time in what felt like forever, and it had everything to do with you.

“Do you have any oatmeal here?” You had asked him not too long ago, and it was all he could do to point you in the right direction as the guilt was eating away at him. Once you had found it, you had sent him away to go upstairs to get him further away from the tree. His strong, capable, and pretty girlfriend was left to deal with the mess downstairs without him.

He could hear the whir of the blender and wondered what you were up to. Sulking at the fact that all he could do is wait for the antihistamines to kick in, and hope that he’d be feeling better soon so that he could help you take care of things.

“Bradley? Baby, are you awake?” You entered the dimly lit room cautiously, approaching him gingerly on the bed and holding a large bowl with something fluffy and powdery looking in it. He hadn’t heard you come up the stairs.

He loved the sound of your voice. He loved it in the morning when it was thick with sleep, how excited you got when you were talking about something you were passionate about, and he especially loved the breathy whispers and words of encouragement from you in his ear late at night when he was moving so deep within you. What he didn’t love was being the reason you were so anxious, that he was at fault for why your tone was so laced with concerned.

“Yeah,” although he was starting to feel sluggish, “’m still awake.” He felt your cool hands on his face and leaned into your soothing touch, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“I’m going to make you an oatmeal bath,” you informed him gesturing to the bowl in your hand. “From what I’ve been reading online that should help calm down the hives, hopefully stop them from spreading anymore.’

“Okay, Sweetheart,” he sighed. He can hear how pitiful he sounds, but right now his girl is the only thing that is making him feel good, and he will do anything you ask of him.

You set about turning the taps on for the large tub in the bathroom, twisting the handles to get the water to come out at the right temperature. Once you were satisfied, you swirled in the oat powder you had made watching as the water turned cloudy, then headed back into the bedroom to get Bradley.

“Let’s get you in the tub so you can soak for a bit, yeah?” He looks so miserable alone stretched out on the bed. “It’s not too hot, and it should help you feel better,” you help him to sit up placing a kiss to the lines of the scars on his cheek trying to comfort him.

Ever the soldier, he dutifully follows you into the bathroom. Once he is stripped of his briefs and comfortably situated in the milky mixture, his eyes flutter closed as he reclines back, leaning his head against the ledge of the tub. You move kneel on the floor next to him running your fingers through his sun-streaked waves.

Your little pocket of peace is disturbed a few minutes later by the ding of your phone.

“Jake just got here,” you announce filling him in on the next part of your plan, “He’s going to help me with the tree.”

“’posed to be my job,” Bradley sulks making a petulant sound in his throat. You can’t help but let out a gentle tsk while fighting back a small smile at his response.

“I just want you to relax here and let the oatmeal do its thing. I’m going to get things wrapped up downstairs it shouldn’t take too long, and then I’ll come back to check on you.”

“Mmhm, fine,” he sighs as you press a kiss to his forehead.

You let Jake in and he is quick to jump in taking over by unwinding the lights off from the partially lit tree. He’s even quicker to haul the massive thing out of the house and into the back of his truck, as the new owner of the 7-foot Noble Fir. After the tree is deposited, he heads back in and helps you coil the lights back up so they’re not in a tangled mess on the floor making some light small talk because he can tell your mind is elsewhere.

On his way out the door he shoots you a cocky salute, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face. “You can thank my new Trot PR for how quickly I was able to run back to my place after I got your SOS text to get here as quickly as I did, Darlin’,” he drawls.

You flip him off, but tell him to text you what meals he’d like you to make and bring over later in the week as thanks for his help. And with a quick kiss to his cheek, you shoo him out the door wanting to get back to your boyfriend.

After he leaves, you break out the vacuum and work on getting the needles off the ground before moving on to the laundry. You grab the pile of Bradley’s clothes from the floor in the kitchen where you had left them before stripping down to your underwear, throwing everything in the washer and turning it on to get rid of any potential lingering irritants.

You make you way back upstairs, stopping to slip on one of Bradley’s old UVA t-shirts and grabbing him a loose pair of navy sweatpants, before going in to check on him. He is still there soaking his head tilted back and eyes closed, just as you had left him. Thankfully the hives have seemed to stop their spread leaving his face untouched. His neck, chest, and arms still bearing the brunt of his allergic reaction.

You gently knock on the door to announce your presence, not wanting to startle him. “You ready to come out now, baby?” Before him you had never been a pet name person, but now all you wanted to be a source of comfort in his life. A soft place for him to land.

“Yeah,” he turns his head towards the sound of your voice, “I think I might be getting a bit prune-y, but that felt really good. Thank you, Sweetheart.” He has finally opened his eyes and looking right at you, with a smile small and soft, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You’re trying not to read into it too much, not wanting to let your anxiety get the best of you. You help him up from bath and use the handheld to first shower him off, grabbing a fluffy towel to help gingerly pat him dry. As he bends to pull on the sweatpants you had brought in you turn to rinse out the remaining oatmeal residue from the tub. He presses a kiss to the back of your head as he passes by you to make his way back to the bedroom.

By the time you’re done he has already climbed into bed, the comforter on your side already pulled back as he reaches out for you to get in with him. The white percale sheets you had helped him pick out were cool and luxuriously soft to the touch, and you feel yourself release the breath it felt like you’d been holding since you entered the living room holding those long forgotten hot toddies.

Bradley is quick to lace your fingers together and tuck his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, his mustache ticking the soft skin of your throat there. For all of his golden retriever energy, he is soaking up your affection and attention like a lap cat as you slowly rub your free hand up and down his broad back.

However, he’s still entirely too quiet. Your lips press tightly together on their own accord as you begin to think that there’s something more on his mind that he’s not sharing with you than just the effects of the hives and double dose of Benadryl.

You’re about to speak up when he beats you to it, “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. I just wanted you to feel at home and now I’ve ruined Christmas.” You’ve never heard his voice sound so small.

Oh. Oh no.

“Bradley, please look at me.”

You lean back a bit as he removes his face from the spot it was tucked into and study his beautiful yet troubled looking eyes. “Is this why you’ve been so quiet? Please tell me you haven’t been spiraling thinking you’ve ruined anything.” He looks away, and you feel your brows scrunch together.

You cup his cheek in your hand, running your thumb down the cleft of his chin, “I love you so much and we’re going to have such a wonderful Christmas together, a tree is a nonissue here, baby. You matter more to me. I hope you know that.” His gaze finally meets yours and you continue on, “I need you to hear me. You’ve got absolutely nothing to apologize for. Nothing is ruined and nothing that happened today is your fault. Ok?” Nodding your head, needing for him to understand and let go of his misplaced guilt.

You see the exact moment he absorbs and believes everything you’re saying to him, his shoulders releasing the tension that had gathered there. “Ok, I hear you.” You lean into him to place a tender kiss on his lips. “I love you so much,” he breaths against your mouth.

“I love you too,” you say pressing one more lingering kiss to his lips before encouraging him to settle his head back down again. He reaches for your hand, guiding it to his hair, prompting you to comb your fingers through his curls.

“Now that we’ve settled that, how are you feeling? What else can I do to help?”

“You’ve done so much for me,” he murmurs kissing your neck gently. “’M just tired now and want to hold you for a bit. The Benadryl is starting to kick my ass.” He pauses for a moment, “But maybe we can order some pizza, Sweetheart? And put on one of those Christmas movies you like? Y’know the ones where the people live in a town is named something like Tinselville and their dogs fall in love?” He asks his voice sounding a bit boyish and hopeful.

You can’t help but let out a giggle because, really, his description is not too far off. You can feel his smile against the side of your neck as you turn the tv on.

“You can have whatever you like, handsome boy. Pizza and Oscar quality Christmas content, it is.” You grab your phone unlocking it and opening up to the delivery app, when Bradley plucks it from your hand tossing it to the side and placing his in yours instead.

“Order from mine instead, it’s my turn to take care of you,” he states slinging his arm low over your hip.

You click the button on the side to wake his phone up only to see your face smiling back at you on his lockscreen. Nose bright from the cold, surrounded by trees, and wrapped up in a scarf your mom had loaned to you since you hadn’t brought any practical winter-wear home with you.

It’s the picture that Bradley has sent himself the other night at the bar, and you’re flooded with a rush of affection for the man nestled against you. You notice his wallpaper is still the picture of you and him from this Halloween when you’d surprised everyone by dressing up as him, he’s kissing you squarely on the mouth while grabbing a handful of your ass. It was one of your favorites too.

You’d just finished submitting the order, when a text from Jake comes through, and you roll your eyes.

Those 5th Gens didn’t get you, but you’re taken out by a fucking a Christmas Tree. Would hate to see what one of those tree shaped car fresheners would do to you.

You’re not going to let him come for your boyfriend, even in playful roasting, when you just managed to picked his spirits up. Not tonight, Hangman. And you set to typing your response with your one free hand, the other still carding through Bradley’s curls.

Listen up, Lieutenant Turkey Trot. I was planning on surprising you with a bottle of that Texas bourbon you like when I swing by with the food later this week, but now that’s up to you. Do with that what you will... xx

Not bothering to wait for a response you hand Bradley back his phone only to see it light up again. “Lieutenant Turkey Trot,” he snorts, “Damn. Hangman apologized. And he says he wants a lasagna and your chicken and dumpling casserole.”

Southern men are too easy. Nothing is as important to them as food and their mamas. You smile smugly to yourself, making a mental note to go to remember to stop by that speciality liquor store by your place.

The food is delivered not too much later, you and Bradley eat in bed the box sitting between you while making fun of the plot of the movie you had turned on. You can tell the Benadryl is staring to win when Bradley’s running commentary tapers and his breathing begins to even out.

“It’s ok to go to sleep, baby.”

“Just resting my eyes, wanna see if they figure out why the poinsettias aren’t blooming.”

“You should get your rest,” you gently press, “I’ll set record it and you can find out tomorrow.”

“You’re gonna stay the night, right?” He asks sleepily as he concedes and begins to burrow down into his bed.

“Of course. If you want me here, I’ll stay.” Truth be told, you liked his bed better than yours. You’d even went back to the shop where you’d helped Bradley pick out his sheets from and bought the same percale set for your place in an attempt to help you sleep better.

You set an alarm for earlier than you’d like, remembering you have a meeting first thing in the morning. “I might have to leave a bit earlier than usual though,” you mention softly, “Since I’ll need to go to my place before I have to head in to the office.” You hadn’t originally planned on staying over due to your early morning and now you were kicking yourself for not grabbing a few things to keep in your car just in case.

“Yes. Stay,” he murmurs and reaches out to you, wrapping his arm around your midsection and pulling you to his chest. You let your fingers trace lightly down his forearm, feeling the hills and valleys caused by the welts that litter his arm. He lets out a hum of contentment in response, you’re pressed so close to him you can feel the vibrations of the sound from his chest against your back.

You think you’ve finally lost him to sleep when he mumbles already half gone, “Why don’t you keep more things here?” You can feel his warm breath against the back of your neck.

“How much were you thinking? You saying you want to share a drawer with me?” you lightly tease.

“Bring it all,” he sighs, “Want you here.”

The sound of his soft snores filling your ear only a couple minutes later.

You don’t bring up Bradley’s half-asleep musings, you won’t hold him to anything said under the influence of the antihistamines. While the thoughts of moving in and living with Bradley made your heart beat a bit faster, you kept those hopes tucked away just for yourself.

It was now a week after the pine tree debacle, Bradley’s hives were quick to clear up after a couple days and a few oatmeal baths later. Your skin was still reaping the benefits of the oatmeal too after he managed to coax you in with him one evening.

He had texted you earlier in the day asking for you to swing by his place after work. You knew the door would be unlocked for you, and you let yourself in.

“That you, Sweetheart?” He called out from nearby, you can hear the sounds of some crooner singing in the background.

“Yeah, it’s me." You set your purse and work tote down before bending to undo your heels at the door. “Hey, I was thinking on my way over here, I bet lots of places still have artificial trees left in stock that we could get. I feel like we need a Christmas redo.” You get one off and begin working on the other, “I was planning on getting one to liven up my place too, maybe I can find one of those ostentatious pink ones I tried to talk my parents into getting and fulfill a lifelong dream.” You say that last part with a little laugh.

You finally win the battle against the top buckle of your cute shoe finally kicking it off and wiggling your toes out, “Ooh! Maybe we can go to that cute cocktail bar off 17th afterwards? One of my coworkers was talking about their new seasonal drinks today and it seems festive.”

You fish your phone out of your purse and make your way to the living room, “That is if you didn’t have anything planned.”

Your voice trails off at the end because when you round the corner you find Bradley in his living room looking very proud with a self-satisfied smile on his face already standing next to a Christmas tree.

A very large, very fluffy, pink Christmas tree.

You stand there entirely stunned. The juxtaposition of your tall, handsome naval aviator next to this truly over the top frosted tree has your brain working overtime. The entire room is cast in a dreamy glow from many strands of white lights he had already spun around it.

“I still feel bad that about what happened the other weekend, and I wanted to make it up to you. At the bar, I heard you telling Phoenix that you always wanted a pink tree, so I hope this is similar to what you hand in mind.” He seems to be getting a bit nervous now, since all it seems you can do is just blink at him. He reaches around into his back pocket pulling out a small tube, “I even got some of those scent stick things to tuck in if you-”

He doesn’t get to finish since you’ve launch yourself at him.

“Bradley!” He catches you easily with one arm as you begin peppering his face with kisses.

His laugher fills the room and his grin lights up his face at your reaction, “Are you happy, Sweetheart?”

“I’m the happiest! Oh my god! Are you for real?” you exclaim in between kisses. You stop the assault on his face to take it in your hands, “Seriously though, there is nothing to feel bad about. You’re what matters most to me. I mean, yes, I absolutely love this. But you should have what you like too.”

He takes a step back, with you still in his arms and propped up on his hip. He thoughtfully studies the tree in front of you both. “Yep. This is definitely the perfect tree,” he declares proudly, “It’s full and girthy. Has some good gaps, and look at that top. Straight as an arrow. Although we might need to get some more decorations for it, but I got it started.”

You look from him back to the tree puzzled, since you don’t see anything on it aside from the lights. He walks you both closer, and pulls off what looks to be a strand of curling ribbon with a shiny silver object dangling from it from a branch on the tree.

A key.

He sets you down back on your own two feet, holding you close against his body bringing his forehead to yours. “I meant it, Sweetheart. Bring it all. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be here. All the time. With me. You’re the only thing on my list this year, you’re all I want. Will you let me give you more than a drawer?” His honey brown eyes gazing at you hopefully.

You already knew what your response would be even before he pulled that key from off the tree, and the answer must be all over your face because Bradley’s face breaks into a beam as he picks you up and spins you around.

The choice has always been easy with him, it’ll always be a yes.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Causally hyper-fixating over all things TGM at bradshawburner

You can find the prequel to this story here!

Find out what happens during their second Christmas together here!

You can read more of my stories here!

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #hello december playlist challenge

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quitealotofsodapop · 6 months ago

Note

This was in my notes for a long time

MK glanced up at the ringing of the bell. The food truck was bustling, full of people all over the city looking to enjoy Pigsy's Noodles during their New Years while they await the parade. At the sight of the partially glamoured face of a ginger haired person with a heart-shaped birthmark around his eyes wearing an orange hoodie and maroon pants, he felt his face pale considerably. Especially as the very obviously glamoured demon was accompanied by four seemingly human children, having apparently put more effort into their glamours than his own. A quick flash of Gold Vision confirmed MK's suspicions. His mom and siblings.

"Oh boy..." He groaned, glaring at the snickering of one of the twins. They pointed at their headphones and stuck their tongue out before bringing their attention back to their sibling. Right, lotus ears. There's no verbally spoken secret within a mile that can be kept from the twins simply because one of then was born with their father's ears. Before MK could return the rude gesture he felt a hand shaking his shoulder, startling him.

"What's up, monkey man?" Mei was grinning, "You look like your mom jsut walked in on you or something!"

"That's because he did." MK groaned, pointing to the group, "He brought my siblings too."

"Oooh, tough. I'm totally gonna record the entire thing, it's bound to be good blackmail."

MK rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to the front where his mom was watching the whole interaction with amused golden eyes.

"Mom! What are you doing all the way out here?"

"Can't a fella come to his son's workplace on the holiday?" Wukong joked, instinctively reaching out to stop Luzhen from grabbing at Yuebei's hidden tail, "With the New Years I thought it'd be a good idea to bring your siblings down to the parade for a better view. We're jsut stopping by fir seem food before we go down to the festival."

"Well you came to the right place! What can I do ya for?" Pigsy grunted as not too gently pushed MK aside for some room. For a moment the glamoured monkey demon was frozen at the unexpected resemblance before shaking himself a bit,

"Oh, uh... something vegetarian please. Make sure mine is cooled."

"Cooled?" Pigsy raised a brow as he glanced at MK, a cooled bown the noodles is rarely something people want.

"Mom had an accident when he was younger that makes it difficult for him to eat hot foods." MK explained, writing the order down for his boss. The pig shrugged, muttering something about ice as he began the order. MK returned his focus to his family as they chatted, Wukong quite forcefully demanding a hug from him.

What MK didn't realize was the conversation going on behind him.

"So that's very obviously a glamoured demon." Tang was pointing out as they watched the family interact, "So our theory is looking more and more true."

"Yeah, kid's a demon. Or the least his mom is. Poor guy." Pigsy said in return, "Still that isn't a good glamour."

"I've seen glamours before." Sandy chimed in, "I don't think it's because he's bad at it, just look at his kids! He's probably jsut putting all his energy into keeping his kids' glamours up."

Ref.

Oh gosh poor MK getting mega-embarrassed by his mom and siblings XD

I love the detail of the Eclipse Twin with the lotus ears teasing MK before they even get there. No secret is safe from the twins; one hears all and they both share everything.

I love Wukong being so focused on his kids glamours that he barely has enough magic left over for his own. And ofc Luzhen trying to grab Yuebei's invisible tail - cus where did it go? XD

I love hcs of Wukong not enjoying hot food cus of his lore. Him like his noodles lukewarm at best.

And the noodle gang cofirming their suspicions that MK is def a glamoured demon (or at least half-demon). Imagine the shock they'll get when they learn exactly who MK's mom is! XD

#post jttw stone egged au #jttw stone egged au #sun wukong #lmk mk #qi xiaotian #dad sun wukong #lmk eclipse twins #lmk rumble & savage #long xiaojiao #lmk mei #lmk pigsy #lmk tang #lmk sandy #lmk yuebei xing #lmk sun luzhen #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid

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murdrdocs · 2 years ago

Text

Santa, Baby | S. Harrington

description. on christmas night, a time you’d spent lonely for a while even though your last name is another’s, you receive a visit from a being you believed to be mythical for years. OR, santa claus pays you a visit to fulfill your wishes.

includes. SMUT 16+, technically cheating as reader is married but separated, horrible marriage but NO ABUSE!!, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex (not safe, fanfic is fiction, irl is not), cumming inside, sweet santa’s son steve

word count. 5k+

a/n: merry christmas! i stayed up super later writing this and i enjoy it a lot i think! i hope it’s enjoyable :) this is also the only AU that i can see myself writing for in the future so yay !!

When you were younger, Christmas was a time of joy.

The largest tree your parents could afford, almost reaching the tip top of your ceiling, decorated with ornaments new and old. You loved looking back on the ones you made as a child, how the growth of your artistic ability could easily be shown in the ornaments that hung prettily against green fir.

The music was a staple. Your mom would make a show of putting on records, dancing around the house with you, singing the crafted lyrics of holiday songs until you knew them by heart and you had begun to lead her in them instead of the other way around.

At the time, everything seemed so warm and colorful. Even when Hawkins would be blasted with a white Christmas, all you could remember was greenery and warmth.

None of that has been present in years.

Ever since you married Ralph.

Sitting on the armchair in your living room, facing the large tree that you carefully decorated, you try to remember the last time you had that childlike wonder towards Christmas. It was long, long, ago, you decide once your brain cannot conjure up a year.

Your legs are mostly bare, and they would be cold if it weren’t for the fire heating them up. You’d lit it a while ago, and had to rekindle it multiple times since. It worked as a habitual reminder for you, keeping you awake so that you could see that Ralph returned to your home safe and sound.

No matter how often you told yourself that you didn’t care about him, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk upstairs and go to sleep whenever he was out. Even though you had assurance that he would return drunk as can be with another girl's perfume on his collar.

Your eyes turn to the clock. It’s late, but too early for Ralph to be home anytime soon. Only a few hours until the clock hit midnight, and introducing another dull Christmas.

Turning your eyes back to the fire, you try not to think about it.

Some nights, when you find yourself like this, you have a glass of wine and a few records to accompany you.

But tonight, you sit alone with your thoughts.

Thus far, you’d concluded that it was time to finalize your divorce.

You and Ralph were not happy together, you both knew this. You slept in separate rooms, barely spoke to each other, and have not been intimate together for a while. There’s been a pit in your heart, stomach, and throat in regards to your marriage for even longer.

You know that in order to be truly happy, you have to be legally divorced.

You make plans to contact a lawyer on Monday.

You’re lost in thought whenever the front door opens.

Your back faces it, and there’s no need to turn around and see who’s entering, even though he’s hours early.

Heavy boots thud against the hardwood floors, skirting to a stop. You hear a groan, and a sound akin to a gruff, followed by rustling. Ralph murmurs something under his breath, you don’t bother asking him to repeat it.

Instead, you sit still, back straight, eyes forward and rapidly blinking as you wait for him to go upstairs. And when he does, that pit inside of you doubles.

The house feels colder.

You wake up without knowing that you’d fallen asleep in the first place.

Your body was jolted awake by itself, and you’re instantly made aware of something being out of place.

It takes you a second to figure out exactly what it is, but when it comes, you’re prompted into action.

Someone, or something, is on your roof.

There’s a loud thud, assumingly similar to the one that woke you, and then there’s one more that’s slightly quieter. You wait, your eyes turned up as if you could see through the roof itself. Then, there’s the sound of footsteps. Human footsteps.

So someone is on your roof.

You stand and tiptoe to the staircase.

“Ralph?” You call, your voice a whisper yet loud enough to be heard if he was listening. You try a few more times, to no avail, and you’re left with the realization that you’re going to have to fight off a burglar on your own, on Christmas.

It’s a horrible, daunting feeling to realize that your deadbeat husband is even more of a deadbeat than you originally thought.

The person atop your roof is on the move. Your eyes follow the sound of the footsteps as you make your way to the table that sits adjacent to the staircase. Your eyes don’t dare look away from the crown molding as you pull the drawer open, and blindly fumble for the weapon Ralph kept tucked in the mahogany table.

At least Ralph could do one thing right.

You have it in your hands when the steps stop.

Your hands tighten around the handle when someone comes down your fucking chimney. Like Santa Claus or something.

Unfortunately, the fire was completely put out by now, due to the fact that you’d fallen asleep. You wished it were still blazing so you wouldn’t have to deal with this intruder yourself.

But things just aren’t going your way tonight.

“Stop right there.” Your voice sounds stronger than you thought it would. The shake in your hands betrays you though.

Not like the person could see it anyway. They were too busy commenting on their landing.

“Could’ve landed better. That’s something Dad’s gonna critique me on. ‘How was your landing, Son? You know that’s the most important part of the entrance’.” He’s so enticed with his own chastising that it takes another two barks of orders from you for them to even spare you a glance.

“I said, Stop. Right. There.”

He has the audacity to look shocked. As if he wasn’t the one to break into your house.

“I can explain.”

You scoff, but you don’t roll your eyes. You can’t take any chances. “Save it for the police.” One hand stays on the weapon, and the other reaches for the phone on the table.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!”

You can barely comprehend what happens next.

One minute, your fingers are just about to wrap around the plastic of the receiver, and the next the receiver is gone all together. When you glance down, you see that the entire phone itself is missing.

“What the …” Your eyebrows push together as you squint, and then you cast an accusatory glare at the intruder.

“What the fuck did you do and how did you do it?”

When you watch the phone appear in his hands, your knees buckle.

“Like I said, I can explain.”

You must have been drugged with something.

Maybe some hallucinogens from the 60s or the Cocaine that you know to be frequenting clubs currently. Maybe someone –– Ralph –– even spiked your eggnog earlier. There has to be some explanation for you to be here, in this position, with this person that you had thought to be mythical for the past decade and a half.

Because standing next to you, looking up at a fucking sleigh with eight reindeer attached, is Santa Claus. The mythical man who travels around the world in one night to bring happiness and joy and presents to all the good children.

You’re staring particularly hard at the one reindeer leading the flock, your eyes squinting as a hand comes to shield your eyes from literally nothing. But you have to be sure, as if this will truly confirm or deny.

You take a step closer to your home, and crane your neck up further, just to get a better look. And sure enough, there is a red nose. Rudolph is leading the sleigh. Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer.

You turn to Santa, your jaw dropped and your eyes wide and your heart thudding so hard behind your chest and tears coming to your eyes from the sting of the cold and the sting of childlike excitement.

“You’re Santa Claus,” you tell him, as if this is something he did not already know.

He nods his head, and places his hands on his hips as he glances from his sleigh to you.

“Yeah. That’s what I’ve been telling you. Well actually,” one of his hands lifts to bring his thumb to his forehead, push the red hat out of the way, and scratch at the skin a bit, “my name’s Steve Claus, but yeah, for the night I’m Santa.”

You can’t do anything but repeat yourself.

“You’re Santa Claus. Santa’s real? All this time?”

He nods again. “Yeah. I mean, only as real as you believe. So like you had to have believed in me or else I couldn’t have been here and– it’s a whole thing and I’m kinda running on a schedule here so.”

You’re too shocked to say anything else so you let Santa––Steve take charge of the conversation.

“Look, okay. I know you’re shocked and all but I need you to listen to me. My name’s Steve, as I just told you, and I’m filling in for my dad––Santa–– for the night. My first task, and probably the most important one of them all, is to come here, and find you, and fulfill your greatest desire or whatever.” He scoffs and looks off to the side like he doesn’t believe in anything he’s saying.

Your face displays confusion similarly to Steve’s. “I don’t know what my greatest desire is and why are you here, at my house? Isn’t there some kids in Africa who need this more than me or something.”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t know. That was my exact point but Dad said I have to come here. So, I’m here.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Steve, but I can’t ask for something if I don’t know what I want.” You take a second to think, and to shiver because it’s so cold and your slippers were not made for snow and you’re still dressed in tights and a little dress. You push your discomfort to the back of your mind and lick your drying lips.

“Maybe a sable, a yacht, a convertible, the deed to a new house? Or another ring that’s not this hunk of clunk,” you flash your left hand and the diamond ring that Ralph gave you. It’s nowhere near your type, and you hate to look at it. But you refuse to take it off and spark very-true-rumors of your divorce from him.

Steve stops you before you can go on. “No, no, not like material things. It has to be something deep down inside. Here,” he takes a step closer to you and begins to reach his hands out, “let me just–” you watch as Steve’s hands find your shoulder and your chest, right where your heart would be. Which, in turn, puts his hand almost on your tit.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and his eyebrows begin to furrow with focus. “Sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable I just have to find–” he smiles, “there it is,” and then his smile drops, and replaces itself with shock that forms something more like a smirk. “That’s … interesting.”

“What? What’s interesting? And what did you just do? Did you grope me or test for breast cancer or–” Steve interrupts you.

“Let’s go inside for this.”

There is absolutely no way in Hell, Heaven, or Earth that you were not drugged with something.

Because there is no way that Santa Claus––or Steve Claus or whatever––was kneeled between your legs, in the early hours of Christmas day, his gloved hands sliding up your almost bare legs with the intent of reaching between your thighs.

Your heart thuds behind your chest with ferocity that reaches your throat, your hands are shaking and sweaty, and you fully believe that you’re going to pass out before your tights even come off.

“Relax,” he’s telling you. “When’s the last time your husband did something for you? Hmm?”

It takes you a while to respond. Not only because you’re thinking of a response, but also because your breath has been knocked out of you with the way Steve’s looking up at you. His eyes are so big and so brown and so pretty. They’re cloaked with long eyelashes that you feel envy and jealousy for.

And his skin’s so golden. He lives in the North Pole, so there is no reason for him to have a tan this glorious. It amplifies his freckles and moles that you almost get lost in. Almost. He prompts you out of an incoming trance.

“Are you still with me?” he says your name, and you swear you almost melt. Instead, you hold yourself together and nod.

“Yeah, sorry,” he smiles so softly and tells you it’s okay. “It’s been a while since Ralph and I even …” you trail off with embarrassment. Steve fills it in for you.

“Had sex?” You nod. “God, a man has a wife as beautiful as you and he won’t even make you feel good? It’s a shame.”

His hands find the tops of your thighs. They slip under your dress, and hook around the elastic of your tights and panties. “Will you let me take care of you?” He’s pleading, his big brown eyes soft and glowing.

You nod once more.

“Words, honey. I need to hear you say it.”

“You can take care of me, Steve.” And he smirks.

“Good girl. You listen so well, honey.” The praise goes right to your cunt.

He’s pulling your tights down and you reach a hand out to grasp the armchair so that you don’t topple over. Steve’s suddenly made aware of your predicament, and he instructs you to take a seat.

He doesn’t bother standing to make his way to your new position. He just crawls shamelessly so that he can find his place between your legs.

Without anything on your skin, you’re bare and cold. Goosebumps rise on your legs, and with a flick of Steve’s hand, the fire is going. You sigh gratefully and begin to relax back into the cushions.

Your legs part and you make room for Steve. From there on out, you’re puddy in his hands.

You let him throw your legs over his shoulders and slide you down so that your bare cunt is closer to his face. Your hands rest on the pillowy arms of the chair, and you take a deep breath just as Steve’s face disappears and you’re only met with the velvet of his hat.

The first touch of his tongue makes you flinch. The movement is embarrassing, and you’re instantly apologizing. Steve gently reassures you with whispers followed by tiny presses of kisses into the junction of your pelvis and your thigh.

The next touch is more expected, and easily welcomed. His tongue is flattened out and he drags it from your hole to your clit, where he purses his lips and kisses.

You’re already mewling from such a simple gesture.

Steve takes your reaction in stride. He repeats the action, but swirls his tongue around your clit at the end instead of kissing it. Then, he focuses solely on the bud. He’s delivering the most calculated kitten licks, his tongue perfectly enveloping your nerves in a way you’re sure is not humanly possible.

It’s so good that your back is arching within the first few minutes. Your hands are twitching at the arm rests, begging for strands of hair to hold onto. You dig your nails into the fabric instead of reaching out and digging them into Steve’s scalp.

It’s when Steve starts practically making out with your cunt that you lose it.

You regain your sanity for only a few seconds when you notice that he’s mumbling little praises in between.

“Taste so good, sweetheart. And doing so well ‘f me. Don’t ever wanna leave this pussy, baby.”

Your breath has quickened and it’s heard in your moans. Your hips grind up into Steve’s face on their own accord, you’re so busy chasing your quickly approaching high that you don’t even realize.

Steve welcomes it. His hands slide down to grip your ass, and he fucking dives in.

He’s messy with the way he eats you out. His tongue slipping and sliding and adding to the wetness of your cunt. The muscle is so warm yet cold and he knows exactly what to do and you can’t hold back anymore, your hands are finding his shoulders, running across the red velvet of his suit and up the side of his neck and playing with the parts of his hair that aren’t covered by his hat.

It’s only a few more determined movements and you’re cumming, the empty walls of your cunt spasming as your back curls and the crown of your head rubs at the back cushion of the armchair.

Steve works you through it. The pads of his fingers press and massage into your ass as he keeps you flush against his tongue. You’re sensitive, so he works you slowly, his licks going back to short ones, using only half the expanse of his tongue.

Once you stop twitching, and you’re back to the sitting position that you started in, Steve slips his hands from under you and leaves from between your legs.

When Steve looks up at you, you’re ready for another round.

His mouth and the area around it glistens with a mix of his saliva and your cum. His pretty pink lips are parted and you can just faintly hear the little breaths he’s letting out. He sees you staring, and he smiles at you, a glint in his eyes.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips and you decide that you wanna kiss him.

So you do.

Your feet set down on the hardwood and you bend down to take Steve’s face in between your warm hands so that your lips can securely slot in between his.

The kiss is slow at first, testing the waters on both ends, and seeking out taste from your end. Something shifts when Steve whines.

You’ve practically pounced on him at that point. And you would feel even a little bit of sympathy if he wasn’t so receptive to it.

He’s pulling you into his lap by the back of your thighs. He’s tilting his head to deepen the kiss, and forcing his tongue between your lips. He’s canting his hips up so that your cunt grazes the fabric of his pants and you’re made aware of the hard shape suffocating in them.

“Holy shit, Steve,” you can’t help but exclaim once Steve’s clothed cock grazes you again and you’re made aware of just how much length he’s packing. “Can you fuck me? Will you fuck me? Please?”

Your hands still hold his flushing cheeks, and you’re so close that your noses are almost touching and your lips ghost across his as you speak.

He looks so baffled that you want him to fuck you. Like he didn’t just devour you better than Ralph ever had.

His brown eyes staring up at you in wonder, a look that you can only describe as submissive.

He stutters when he speaks. “Yeah. Mhm. Yeah.”

You smile into the kiss.

As you’re pulling away, your hands search for whatever it is that undos Steve’s top. It’s much more complicated than you would have originally guessed, so you let Steve do it instead.

As soon as it’s open, you’re resting your hands on his chest and pushing him to lay back on that hideous faux cow skin rug Ralph insisted on putting in front of your fireplace. You hated it, truly, but you’re also thankful for its presence in a moment like this one.

Steve lays back and watches you kiss down his neck and chest all the way to his bottoms, which are much easier to get open.

His boxers have little candy canes on them and you can’t help but snort. He’s about to start babbling out some sort of excuse, but you couldn’t care less for it. You wrap your lips around the clothed head of his cock instead, your eyes closing gratefully.

Steve sighs and curses under his breath. You intended on teasing him a little longer, but his hips buck up and one of the reindeer on the roof makes a sound (probably Dasher) and you’re reminded of his time restraint.

Your nails graze his skin as you pull his boxers and pants down just enough for access.

You were right about his size. But you couldn’t have predicted just how pretty his dick is. Pretty is the only word to describe it.

He’s groomed, first of all, shaved in most places but with a small, clean tuft of hair at the base of his dick. His dick is a perfect compromise of length and girth, and just looks like it would fit perfectly in your mouth and cunt. The bead of precum at the flushed tip looks appetizing, in an almost primal way that seems unrecognizable from you.

All you want to do is suck.

So you do.

Your lips wrap around his bare head this time and you actually moan. You moan because you enjoy it, not to be sexy like you would with Ralph long ago.

Your tongue swirls and your head makes its way down his dick.

You’re manually breathing the further down you go, and controlling your swallows so that you don’t choke and embarrassingly barf on Steve Claus’ dick (although that would be a story to tell).

Steve’s moaning above you. One of his hands comes to the back of your head and you briefly get the fear that he’s going to push you down further. But he doesn’t. He keeps his hand there, limp, pliable.

His thumb caresses your cheek on its way there, and the touch makes something else swell in your chest.

You continue your work. Your saliva dribbles down the parts of his cock that your mouth cannot reach, and you let your hand get to work. The other holds you steady by gripping Steve’s hip bones.

Above you, praises continue.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. So good, that pretty little mouth of yours. Wanna take you back home with me. Make you my little snow queen.”

And holy fuck does that sound enjoyable. Fantasies of leaving behind this dull life for one in a literal fantasy land briefly floods your mind, and prompts you to suck Steve’s cock with more vigor.

You work shallowly now, focusing on the tip and a little further down. You pump the rest of his length with your free hand, twirling and gliding your soft palm up and down.

Steve’s working so hard not to fuck your hand at this point. You can tell.

Veins in his neck are prominent as he restrains himself and you almost want to tell him to fuck your mouth. It takes your own personal restraint not to.

Your mouth detaches from Steve’s almost completely, your lips solely wrapped around the tip so that your tongue can focus on the area right below his pink tip.

When Steve Claus cums, it’s the most beautiful sight you think you’ve ever seen.

His fingers grip the back of your neck so tightly that it stings just a bit, his chest reaches for the sky, his eyes squeeze shut and his pretty lips part to let out the whiniest little sounds.

You milk him, letting his warm cum spurt onto your tongue until his dick is twitching in your mouth and he’s manually pulling you off. You’d expected him to taste bitter, or even a bit salty. You didn’t expect him to taste sweet, with a hint of something that is so close to peppermint out of all things.

You’re broken away from your wonder at the taste of Steve’s cum when he speaks.

“Baby, I need to be inside of you. Now.”

You’ve always appreciated a man who got straight to the point.

Steve’s cum is barely down your throat before his tongue is.

His hands work to unzip your dress and he only separates from your lips to pull it over your head. When he’s undoing your bra, he’s kissing your neck. You tilt your head and your hand finds the back of his head, pulling him closer to you, silently urging him to leave marks.

And he does.

He sucks and nips so hard in multiple places, leaving behind burning marks that he blows on before he moves down to kiss your chest.

When his hands press into your back, you realize that he’s removed the gloves.

His fingers are soft, and you want them inside of you.

But then his cock presses into your thigh and you decide that you want that inside of you more than his fingers.

Steve’s tongue swirls around the perky buds of your nipples as he lays you down against the rug.

When he’s had enough, he sits back on his haunches, and stares at you.

You feel a little shy and self conscious, until you catch the look in his eye.

Steve’s not staring, he’s marveling.

He licks his lips and lets out a breath of air, a soft “wow” barely audible in there.

With new found confidence, you bring your knees up and part them as one hand trails up to grip your tit, and the other trails down to swipe a hand in your folds and glide it down to just barely dip in your fluttering hole.

“Need you, Steve,” is all you have to say and he’s on you, one hand holding you still by your hip and the other aligning his dick. But not before he takes his hat off of his head, and puts it on yours.

When he presses forward and begins to breach, you can’t help but gasp. You’re trying your best to relax, but he’s so large that it’s just not working. Steve’s thumb rubs soothing circles into your warm skin and that works a bit, but you eventually just have to close your eyes and wait until he’s bottomed out.

When he does, he lets you take a few moments to adjust.

“Doing so well, honey. Just breathe, that’s it. Relax.” His words work wonders on you, to the point where you have to consider if he’s actually ordering you to relax.

When your muscles aren’t tensed, Steve starts to move, shallow and shy at first, then with more depth and confidence as your body starts to tell more.

Your lower back arches and your hands start to grip the rug. You reach out for Steve, and he comes to you, resting his weight on either side of you and pushing his chest against yours.

Your nipples, sensitive from the chill of the air earlier and Steve’s mouth, rub against his toned chest and the movement increases the sensitivity.

Steve’s hips move with barely any percision, with only a hint of calculated movements that leads you to the edge. Just having him above you, fucking you, staring into your eyes and moaning is enough to speed you to your orgasm.

Your hand trails around Steve’s back and your nails scratch at his skin, your chest pushes up to increase the friction on your nipples, your legs lift to dig your knees in his sides. You’re not going to last much longer, and Steve realizes.

He dips down to peck your lips, and then your cheek. “You close, honey?” he asks in your ear.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m so close, Stevie.” You can feel him smile at the nickname.

“I’ll get you there. Promise.”

His hand trails down to press his thumb to rub your clit as his thrusts speed up just enough, increasing the squelching sound of where you two are connected.

Your eyes pinch shut, but Steve shuts that down. “Look at me. I wanna see you when you cum around my cock.”

Two more circles of his thumb and your back is arching and you’re cumming with a loud cry. Your ankles wrap around his lower back and you pull him in to you, forcing his thrusts to be more shallow than they were before. But you can’t get enough of him, you don’t want him to leave.

Deep in your mind, you wished you could spend your entire night like this. But Steve has a job to do, and he can’t spend his days buried in your cunt.

Your walls are fluttering around him and he curses. “Fuck, so close,” he says your name and you know you’ll never get tired of the syllables coming from his tongue. “Want me to cum in you, hmm?”

The idea is more appealing than it should be.

Worry flashes your face for a second, Steve kisses your cheek. “Don’t worry, you won’t get pregnant. But that would be a sight, wouldn’t it?”

Your cunt tightens around him and he chuckles. “You think so too, don’t you?”

There’s no point in denying it.

“Yes, Steve. Please cum in me, mark me up.”

He does with a few more thrusts.

Steve’s face contorts when he cums, but he keeps his eyes on you. You watch him through it, one of your hands finding his hair and the other cupping his cheek. When he leans into your touch, and presses his lips to your palm, you smile softly.

You’re standing in your clothes once again on your lawn. Steve’s hat is still on your head and it keeps you warmer better than any other clothing item you’ve ever owned.

You watch Steve on the roof, the taste of his lips starting to fade against yours. A soft, almost sad smile is on your lips as you watch him get situated in the sleigh. You take it all in once more, the eight reindeer, the red sleigh with a massive brown sack on the back, the gorgeous man commanding it.

Then, as he strikes the deer into action and sails away into the night, you make your way back inside and to the armchair.

#stevesworld!#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #stranger things #celeste writes st

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martinys-world · 1 year ago

Text

the girl (4)

I am struggling with trying to mold sliver with out giving to much away. also I forgot to mess with the color in the diomand pretend yellow is gray.

hope you enjoy this chapter the other chapters (1) (2) (3)

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Going form point 1 to point 2 was just a normal walk. just a turn left, a turn right. nothing worth noting. Honestly, I usually keep track where I am, but the lady with yellow eyes mess with my head big time. I mean I know their “magic” but that usually baloney or leave a mark. While I was playing the guessing game. I was just holding the strap on kris bag. He was leading the way. he used his strength to stop me from walking into a person. Coming back, I saw Noah going in and kris tugging me sit on a stone wall.

“You okay sliver?”

“I been better, honestly.” I can't lie to him no matter how hard I want to.

“Does it have anything to do with that magazine?”

Looking down I am not realized that I am still on the page that the lady left me on.

“Kind of …”

Before anything can be said. My plastic bracelet that sits on my left wrist. Started buzz and change color, from snowflake white to a dull sky blue. I guess my “blood sugar” need “insulin”.

Pulling out my bag I grab my pencil case. it had all three of use Noah being the cool one with an attitude. My with peace sign on my fingers. Kris decides to photo bomb with heart hands. It’s one of my favorite moments. Under the photo there a diamond, With mini diamonds inside. 4 diamonds in total.

You see no matter where there are three beings There is good (blue one on the right) the bad (purple on the left) and the neutrals (green the top). Then their possibility (the grey on at the bottom) there will always be good and bad but there was a third a neutral. That was both good and bad. They were made so that neither side would be by there self. Then there is possibility. the one where humans or any being fir that matter are place. You have a chance to be good, bad, or neutral.

I pulled out my necklace held the yin and yang charm. I twisted so that yang was on top, and yin was on bottom for once. A bust green came off from the necklace. Went to anything that was electronic and frozen them, nothing can record. A sphere was around me. it gave a green tint to show that it was there.

I then press. Blue, purple, green, and gray. The case unlocks. I open it very carefully. There are 10 slots of vials, I pulled out a vial that was the same color as my bracelet. Number 10. It was a liquid that was filled to the top. With the needle that was under the vials. I careful took the foam full of vials out. Looks like I am going to need to run and get more needles soon. Taking one out and literally stab under my bracelet. The place where any nurse goes to draw blood. When they need to draw your blood for any reason at all.

My bracelet turns back to its normal color snowflake white.

“How does your bracelet do that?”

Dam it. I forgot he was there. I didn’t want to drag him in this. Quick find an excuse.

“Magic.”

Magic may be fake but it’s the simplest way for him to understand. In all honestly, I don’t know. It always done turn to different colors on its own. I quickly and carefully clean up. I put the now used needle back in its clear little package.

“Can it turn into other colors?”

“Yes.”

“What other colors?”

“Sometimes I turn a light purple. Once it turned gold.”

“What do they say?”

“Like I said it turn gold only once, I don’t fully know the truth. at the time it meant it was okay going to be okay.”

The time it turned gold was when I was escaping/stepping out of your comfort zone. It was scary leaving the place you only knew. When I was in that car, taking my first steps into a better life. Left hand on the wheel and my right hand on my dog (spike) petting his ear. I look over my wrist it turns into a shiny gold. Not enough to blinded me but enough to just stand out. the only feeling I can explain was I was safe, and I just knew everything was going to be alright after that, no matter how scary it was going to be.

“What about purple.”

How to I explain purple? It was always complected to explain, let alone explained to an eleven-year-old.

“Purple is when I become sick. I need an antibiotic?”

“What the antibiotic do you need.”

Pointing at open my case. (That has all the vials in place.) I pointed to the number 3. Number 3 was the only one I had left; I need to do a run for it soon or I will surely be dead.”

“Number 3 has all the antibiotics; I need to get better and fast.”

closing the case, I put it in the green bag. Know that my “medicine” is safe

“How fast?”

“Almost an instant.”

“But I thought medicine doesn’t heal as fast.”

“You are right but- “

“Sliver, tails let go.”

Noah, you have prefect timing. I just finished the twisting the yin and yang. Yin was once again on top of yang. The sphere was gone. he not only saves me from a very uncomfortable conversation but saving his brother join a cause, that I don’t want him or anyone else to be part of. I want no one be part of my work. I still trying to fix myself form the last few runs.

In my whole happy moment. I didn’t realize that Noah was upset. He must have not gotten the job, but my gut was saying there was more to it. When we got on the train. I gave Kirst my bulky headphones so he can play his game boy isn’t of the world around him. I just stared at Noah with the “explain now” look.

“There noth- “

“I know you didn’t get that interview, but its more to it is there?”

Knowing he can't lie to me. he started spilling the truth.

“Okay so I didn’t get the job like you said. then the guy that I was going to the interview that Mr. Tucker didn’t want to hire me for some reasons but what really bug me was the whole, “one of your people.” On top of that I ran into Mrs. Greene, and she said this is the last appointment until money starts rolling in,

“Hey, you will get a job it’s only a matter of time Mr. tucker is missing out and he is wrong, you’re not people you are Noah Diaz. A brother and a son that is no has don’t everything in his power to protect his family. you are a hero one way or another.

“You differently know how to make a guy feel better.”

“I just, know when to say that truth. you know what I always say?”

Shaking his head no.

“When its midnight there are stars.”

“I hate that saying.”

“But it is turn there are stars when’s it dark out.

He did a silent chuckle, that was my Signal that my job was done. He was somewhat better.

He went to watch the window of the subway to show that he was done with the conversation. That was my que to open my journal. I careful rip the magazine of the two articles and took picture of the lady on the toothpaste ad. And put the page before, so I can take whatever time I have left to write.

Noah is one the only people that is a hero. Whether he realizes it or not. Tails is lucky to have a brother like him. the one that dose anything for his family, doing the wrong things for the right reason. He a big brother trying to carry the world on his shoulders. Maybe I should call K and see if there something I can do to help.

The train jolted to a stop. A nice new scratched mark in my journal. I can't get rid of a pen mark even if I wanted too. That Tossing the journal and magazine in my big bag. Noah taps on kris, and they started to leave the cramp space. When everyone was off. kris wouldn’t let go of my hand. I felt like I was normal, and I have not felt like that in a VERY long time. Maybe I can be part of their family.

“Hey, you two go up. I need to talk business.”

Letting go of kris and going to Reek.

“What that all about?”

“Reek said something about a job before we left.”

Oh no. Noah don’t do the wrong things for the right reasons.

“I going to cancel those plans tonight tails.”

“Why?”

“I have a feeling your brother going to me tonight.”

“Hey sliver,”

“Yea little man”

“Please watch out for my big brother.”

“You know I will.”

“If he gets beat up, I will beat you up.”

“I know. I will let you beat me up.”

“I have something to ask you. But let’s go inside first.”

After going up the flights of stairs. We made to his door where he had a key. he pulled me in his room and the door was left open.

“What this thing you want to ask?”

“In a few days I am going out of town.”

Opening my purse, I pulled out 2 flower necklaces. Open was a blue daisy and the other one was blue speedwell flower, but both have a white almond gem in the middle.

“I am going to send a letter to an old friend. He going to be around for a bit but he going to be looking for me. I am going to send him to Reek, but I don’t trust him for the life of me. this is a very dear friend to me. I am going to tell him a phrase you are going have to say back. Do you understand?”

With a nod he

“He going to ask “when it dark there is? All you must do is there say “stars. there could be other lights, but stars will always there. “After you say that you are going to give him this daisy necklace and you two will go from there.

“What about the other necklace?”

“This is my promise to you. You used this necklace when you feel your life is threatened. It could be as simples as an earthquake, and you are stuck. Or someone is planning to hurt you. You break it in half I will come as fast as I can.”

“How will you know.”

“I will just know.”

“Hey kids, where are you at.” Said sonic.

“We are in the kris bedroom trying to beat Bowser.” I spoke.

Tails was quick to pull out his Gameboy. this boy totally has my back.

“Well with this information I am going to start dinner Or at least start it before mom comes homes. She will be here in an hour. Sliver will you be staying?”

I was going to say no but tails grab my hands. With his pleading eyes. They were begging me to stay.

Looking back at sonic, “I guess I could stay for a meal.”

“Okay I will leave you guys to your mission.”

I waited for 7 mario deaths before I could do something.

“Hey, I am going to pop out your window to make a call okay let me know when sonic and your mom need me, or when dinner done.”

“Got it.”

Pour kid gets so close but then dies on boswer. I was taking this opportunity to do something. leaning against the cold metal bars against forehead as I leaned against them, waiting for a different sound then ringing in my ear.

“When its midnight there are?”

“Stars, there could be other lights, but stars will always be there.”

“Took you long enough for your check in.”

“Sorry!!”

“Late is better than never. Anyway, how are you doing.”

“I mean I am okay. I need some refills can you send me a location I can get them?”

“Yea. I will E do that. he was saying the was a big dopiest near New York. How are you feeling mentally.”

“I’m not the greatest. But I am okay.”

“Do I need to go to you and drag you back.”

“NO!!! I am doing okay. don’t you dear come find me.”

“Okay, you know I will come and get you, if you go 24 hours of no contact when you are supposed to contact.”

“I know you will. I was enjoying being normal for once.”

I heard him sigh.

“I am not going to disappear without a word again. I promise you that.”

“I know you won’t, I just can't help but worry. I know being normal is something you want. But people like us can't.”

“I know we can never be normal but doesn’t mean I can't enjoy it while we can. You can walk away any minute I can't.”

“I know. I just worry about you. They can find you. Then drag you back.”

“I left no traces. I been doing this long enough.”

“I know. I love you okay.”

“Love you too.”

“Okay do you need anything else?”

“Actually, are you next to computer of any sort?”

I hear him wheel across. The room from one table to another.”

“Now I am.”

“Go dark and go to the SC or AC list of names? Type in tucker in last name slot.

“Got we go 100.

“See if any of them live or work in New York?”

“That shrink the list down to 7. “

“Any of them working in bridge security guard.”

“That brings it down to one. Sean tucker. A farther of 3. Wife is a teacher. she struggles with PTSD, and other relate illness.

“Tell me a story.”

“An apartment Building was on fire at Stone and Garfield St. the wife who name is Sally Tucker

was on the 3-floor stairwell, when the explosion happens after the electric fire reach an area of chemicals. That set the who building a blaze. The chemicals made it spread faster.”

“How long ago was the fire.”

“About almost 8 months on the 27th. it looks like her Lily was one of the survivors. Went straight to the hospital after a bystander saw her window get smash by her boyfriend. Trying to get help to her. once in hospital she has serve burns. Lost more than 25% of muscle tissues. After multiple surgeries she was release about 6 months ago. she gotten into physical therapy about 2 months ago. has been there ever sense.

“How were the tuckers involve in the program.”

“T and V had brought it to our attention when one of Mrs. tuckers students came home saying how his teacher was “acting strange”.

“I am guessing the “acting strange” was her PTSD.”

“You called. V. went to talk to her. she found out story. made a deal with her. she goes to therapy we give better care to her friend.”

“because of the deal. Every one of her family members had to be in the system.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Dose he used any of our services.”

“T has babysitting, and bills marked.”

“Babysitting Is needed when both parents are working full time and the mom needs help. There is no way they could do all that on their own.”

“Besides that, everything clean.”

“That doesn’t help what I want.”

“Want to explain?”

“Well, the people I am with. One of them had an interview with Mr. Tucker. When they came back.

He said, “he doesn’t want your people on his team.”

“Well one of their rules is equality to the end.

“When was there last check?”

“Well about a month ago. t went to see if they were going to appointments. the other check ins are form the babysitter or physical therapy workers.”

“Okay. send T. and V. or someone with their level of clearance. To report and see if maybe something will come up. If I want to mess with them I want to make sure its fair.

“Done. I know you are a necklace short who am I adding.”

“how do you know?”

“well you are making me do all this extra work for this “family you been hanging out with, right? they must have a lot of your respect.

“You not adding him yet, at least not until I leave, or something happens.”

“Okay, but you still gave out a necklace?”

“I going to protect them while I am here. When I give you a mission, I will tell them how you can get to them. I gave their youngest two necklace.”

“One for him and one for us.”

“You know it.”

“Also, I need you to look into someone for me. tell me the name. Susie Cook.”

“Got it. why…”

“I just want to make sure she there. I don’t want to fully explain it right now.”

“Okay. so, you know you better explain when I see you.”

Banging on glass had caught my attention. Tails tap his back of his wrist as time was up. I nodded at him as an understanding. He left his room. Dinner must of be done.

“Look bro I need to go. anything I should know before I disappear again.”

“That we love you and want what’s best for you.”

“I love you guys too. I have a feeling I will be back sooner then we know it.”

“I learned to trust that gut. you diffidently got the Gibbs gut.”

“What?”

“Wait, that not out yet.”

“I Explain and you explain when I come back.”

“DEAL!! when its midnight.”

“There are stars.”

I close the phone. Ending the call. Climbing in the window. It going to be a good night. Little did I was going to say the opposite later that night.

#tf x reader #tf rotb #transformers x reader #transformers-x-reader #transformers #beast wars #optimus #unicron #fanfiction #mirage rotb #Noah Diaz #more then meets the eye

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sunder-soul · 3 years ago

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𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖛𝖊

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Chapter One: There's just something about those Riddle murders that doesn't quite make sense... Wordcount: 2.3k Content warning: language, allusions to bigotry.

Permanent Taglist: @jujugentle @weirdowithnobeardo @pearlstiare @fromthehellmouth @whoevenfrickenknows @moatsnow @voidmalfoy @lucys-brain @sunles @arana-alpha @tallyovie @expectoscamander @nothinghcppens @itsjustfics @mikariell95 @suicide-sweetheart636 @toasterking

Name: MORFIN GORMLAITH GAUNT

Age: 46

Wand: fir, 10 ¾ inches, dragon heartstring

Residence: Gaunt Estate, Little Hangleton, Yorkshire

Marital status: -

Offense charge: three counts of murder in the primary degree

Date of charged offense: 1st July, 1943

Offense Detail: prisoner entered the residence of the Riddle family (Muggle, IM-00) and inflicting the Killing Curse (UC-001-1717) upon the three members of the Riddle family present; Thomas Riddle (63), Mary Riddle (60), and their son Tom Riddle (37). Use of the Killing Curse has been confirmed by Prior Incantato (see report DMLE-619-1951-BLE, SA: Robert Odgen).

Date of Testimony: 3rd July, 1943

Prisoner plea: guilty

Sentence: Azkaban, 360 years

Date of Sentence: 3rd July, 1943

You frown.

It’s very late, the candle your desk is barely a stub, the little flame hovering nervously on the surface of a broad pool of wax, and you’ve been copying over these stupid reports to the new, tamper-proof parchment forms for seven hours now – but something is extremely odd about these dates.

“McCollin,” you say slowly. “Did you work this case?”

“Hmm?” McCollin doesn’t look up at the desk beside you, head resting heavily on one hand and his spine curled into a perfect and truly concerning C-shape over his own stack of files. He looks close to passing out right there and then, salt-and-pepper hair a little greasy, scruffy five o’clock shadow, eyes bleary and shadowed.

“Gaunt,” you read, “1943. You were working with Odgen then, right?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I remember that nutter.”

“What happened?”

“Guy was from one of those ancient pure-blooded clans, you know, one of the real fanatical ones, inbreeding and liquidated assets and all,” McCollin yawns, dragging his hand down his face and smearing ink across his whiskered cheek. “Hated Muggles like nobody’s business."

“Yeah he killed three Muggles, right?” you peer at the report.

McCollin nods at the form he's copying. “Went off the deep end one day. Walked right up to their house and murdered ‘em. When they brought him in he was ranting and raving about how they’d had it coming for years.”

“He was arrested, charged, and sentenced within three days,” you say slowly.

He finally looks up at you. “So?”

“That’s the fasted processing I’ve ever seen.”

“The guy admitted to it, kiddo,” McCollin says in deadpan, “he had snakes nailed to his door and his family tree was basically a Christmas wreath.”

“Yeah, but… what made he snap?”

He laughs again, shaking his head despondently as he returns to his form. “You got a lot to learn.”

His tone wants to be fond but it just strikes you as patronising, especially considering the amount of times people have said that exact same stupid line to you. It’s like half the bloody department think being Muggle-born makes you incapable of understanding the subtle and unique intricacies of wizarding culture – as if bigotry and supremacists and assholes are exclusive to the magical world. “What?” you say a little too defensively.

“Families like that… guys like that… they’re not right in the head. Hate Muggles just to hate ‘em, reckon they’re all that’s wrong with the world. Honestly it’s a miracle he didn��t do it sooner.”

You look back down at the report, suspicions anything but assuaged. “Yeah,” you say quietly, “it is.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Did you ever watch Gaunt’s testimony?”

“You’re still going on about that?” McCollin drawls, heaving the towering box of finished files up a bit as he heads for the lifts.

“I looked him up in Records and the memory’s only available with supervisor permission,” you push, following him quickly. “If you signed me off then I could get Owler to –”

He slams the button and stares at the little golden arrow above the elevator grate slowly sliding towards the basement floor. “And why in Merlin’s name do you want to watch the Gaunt trial?”

You slip your hands into the pockets of your purple Ministry robes. “I’m interested.”

“Interested,” he echoes, shooting you a look. “Is that so?”

“He was processed in three days, McCollin. If it was that obvious he was guilty, it must have been one hell of a trial.”

“It was,” he scoffs as the lift dings and the grate grinds to a noisy open. “Fine, but only if you finish Johan’s quota by five.”

The triumph is impossible to keep off your face and McCollin rolls his eyes at your immediate glee. “I’m on it,” you grin, spinning around and racing back to your desk to get started.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Merlin’s beard,” McCollin mutters, shaking his head at the stack of completed transcripts. “I gotta hold stuff over your head more often.”

“Just sign the slip, McCollin,” you smirk.

He sighs and grabs the quill from your hand, and you hold your breath as he scribbles his initials on the slip. “You’re obsessed,” he drawls.

You seize the slip and round on the lift, heart racing with excitement. “I’m interested.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

The trial is absolutely insane.

Morfin Gaunt looks like a Witch Weekly cartoon caricature of a fanatical blood-purist and he rambles in a manic-edged, ceaseless torrent about how much he enjoyed murdering the Riddles as the Wizengamot mutters and blithers disapprovingly for about three hours – but something catches your attention right near the end. Something you can’t help but ask Owler about the second the memory ends and you’re thrown back into the Records Room.

“Who’s Merope?”

Owler’s sallow face looks about as thrilled at your question as he was at your request for the memory in the first place. “Merope Gaunt,” he says in a flat, nasally voice, waving his wand at the Pensieve and sending the memory swirling back into its phial.

“Merope Gaunt?”

Owler’s thin, anaemic lips downturn even more. “His sister.”

You stare at him. It is not at all what you’d expected. “And why did he call his sister a mud-soused, scumsucking slut?”

“Ask your supervisor.”

“He seemed to be saying he killed those people because of Merope, why on earth would his sister be why he –”

“I keep the records, I don’t conduct the investigations,” Owler interrupts with not inconsiderable disdain. “Now if you could please –”

“Did they bring Merope in for testimony?”

Owler gives your continuing presence a very dirty look. “No.”

“Why not?”

He pushes the door to the Records room open and stares at you.

You try to hold your ground but Owler is unrelenting, and you're forced to step past him with a curt sigh. “Right, well, good afternoon, Owler, thanks for –”

The door slams shut behind you.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“Get what you wanted?” McCollin smirks as you collapse stony-faced into your chair.

“I forgot how impressively unpleasant it is to talk to Owler,” you mutter, resting your head in your hands. “Did you know about Merope?”

“Merope?”

“Yeah, Morfin’s sister.”

“Didn’t know he had one,” McCollin says disinterestedly.

“He was saying some stuff that made it sound like she’s why he killed those Muggles.”

“Uh huh.”

You lift your head, giving him an incredulous look. “He said she’s why he murdered three people, McCollin. How does that not interest you?”

McCollin throws down his quill and sighs sharply. “Look kiddo, the guy’s rotting in Azkaban, he admitted to the murders, they found the curses in his wand, and he had a memory of the whole thing. What exactly are you hoping to achieve here?”

You can barely believe it. “Why isn’t Merope Gaunt mentioned in any of his trial documents?” you say sharply.

“Either she wasn't relevant to the proceedings, or she's dead, or he made her up,” McCollin shrugs, “like I said, the guy went off the deep end.”

“But why doesn’t it say –”

“Just drop it,” he sighs impatiently, “you have work to do, and I won’t have you wasting clocked time on some case from nearly a decade ago.”

“Come on, McCollin, can’t you admit that it’s weird that –”

“I said drop it,” he says sharply, “don’t make me be the big mean supervisor here, you know I hate it.”

You glare at him. “Fine,” you say through gritted teeth.

It’s almost too easy to pull Morfin’s old file from where it’s still sitting in the refuse pile and subtly charm a copy of it that evening.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

Merope Gaunt, as far as you can tell, fucking vanished off the face of the earth in 1925.

There’s nothing, no addresses, no marriage or death notice, no registered Floo connections, no DRC calls for gnomes or doxies or even the odd kappa, not a single trace of her after Morfin and their father Marvolo had a stint in Azkaban for assaulting Bob Odgen back in the 20s.

It seems like the second they were locked up, she scarpered.

You sit back in the Archives Hall and let out a long breath, flipping the folder shut dejectedly. Morfin’s file is a thick wad of anti-Muggle hate crimes rivalled only by his father’s, and closer inspection had revealed that the Gaunt family estate sat a cool twenty minutes' walk from Riddle House where the murders had occurred. If Morfin had lived so close to some of the Muggles he hated so much, he’d been sitting on a clear motive for murder for years.

So why suddenly snap?

What had pushed him over the edge?

Why did he cite Merope in his deranged testimony?

Why talk about her in that way?

Where the hell did she go?

There are endless questions and zero answers. Plus, you kind of get the feeling that if McCollin saw you hunched in the Archives after-hours trying to find those answers, you’d get your pay docked.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

That night, you sit bolt upright in bed with a surge of electric realisation.

Mud-soused… scumsucker…

You’ve heard that language before. You’ve processed about four hundred case files of harassment with that language.

“Idiot,” you breathe, smacking your forehead and falling back onto your pillows with a thump. “Idiot, of course…”

Because that’s the way Pure-blood extremists talk about witches and wizards who've fallen in love with Muggles.

Suddenly, you have a pretty good idea where Merope might have disappeared to the moment her blood-obsessed brother and father were out of the picture, and a pretty good idea of where you might be able to look to find her. Because you’ve been looking in the wrong place.

You’ve been looking for her in the wizarding world.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“I have the craziest news for you,” you grin, slamming a silver Sickle on the counter and taking your seat at the bar.

“You say that twice a month,” Mori grumbles, setting your drink down and sliding the coin into his huge, calloused hand.

“It’s true twice a month.”

“It’s true half as much as you think.”

“I found her.”

Mori’s dark brows raise. It makes his gruff face look slightly less intimidating. “The lady from that old case you're into?”

“Yeah,” you beam, seizing your drink and leaning forward. “Started going through marriage certificates, and –”

“You’re telling me that your big-shot Ministry intern arse has been working this thing for a month and you didn’t even check marriage certificates?”

“Not Muggle ones,” you smirk.

Mori takes a glass off the bar and starts to clean it as he peers at you. “Go on.”

“She married the same guy her brother murdered, Mori,” you breathe, glancing around to make sure none of the shady denizens of Moribund’s are listening – it’s not like the bar's regular patrons are so welcoming to your big-shot Ministry intern arse on the best of days considering you’re half-way down Knockturn Alley in the dead of night. “They fucking ran away together!”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Mori mutters.

“Exactly!”

“What are you going to do about it?”

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink and feeling supremely pleased with yourself.

“What, you spent that much time investigating this thing for no reason?”

“Nah,” you say quietly, lips still in a smile. “I have a feeling there’s more to it than this. I still have to find out what happened to her after they got married and her brother murdered his new in-laws.”

“And what’s this guy’s name again?”

You give him a dry look. “You know I can’t tell you names, Mori, I’m pushing the bounds of my contract telling you this much already.”

He shrugs his massive shoulders, casting a wary look around the dark bar. “If you’re looking for people who might know a thing or two about murderers and Muggle-haters, you’ve come to the right place.”

“I’m here to talk to you, Mori, not the murderers and Muggle-haters.”

“You’re here to drink cheap and rant to someone who won’t rat you out to your boss,” he growls.

You give him another grin. “Cheers to that.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You find Merope’s name in a record tome of an old church parish almost by accident. There’s barely any information there, just one name on a huge list of those buried in the pauper’s graveyard less than ten blocks from where you’re sat amongst the looming shelves of the Muggle public archives at that exact moment.

But there is something.

It says she died in a place called 'Wool’s Orphanage' on New Year’s Eve in 1926. It’s not hard to guess why she might have been there, and how she probably died.

Merope Gaunt had a child.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

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hold-your-applause · 4 years ago

Text

A commission for the lovely @tater-tati, thank you so much for your undying support. I do hope you think of this whenever you need to catch your breath

Reformation

You wished human spines were more efficient.

You could feel yours starting to go stiff from all the hunching over you were doing at your desk, which was made worse by the poor quality of your office chair. You hadn’t stood up for hours; you could feel your knees waiting to crack when you would eventually rise from your seat, and you knew your ankles wouldn’t be any happier.

You didn’t even want to think about your neck.

You blinked your tired eyes slowly, trying to make sense of the words you had reread for the eighth time.

Or was it the ninth?

You sighed in aggravation, forcing yourself to sit up straight so you could lean back in your chair, wishing you could yell out all the tension in your body.

It’s not like anyone would hear you. You were the only person left in the building.

For the last two weeks, villains had been popping up in record numbers, so much so that many agencies were forced to work beyond their means in terms of staff, meaning countless extra hours and fewer days off. Not only that, you worked in the accounting department, and with your other coworkers feeling burnout and calling out, that left you on your own to handle the numbers. There was a serious influx of information regarding insurance, supplies, wages…

It felt like it was never ending.

The timing couldn’t have been any worse, either, seeing as you had arranged to end your employment at your current agency to move to a new one at the end of the month.

Before the workload began to overwhelm you, you had started to feel that your boss may have been taking advantage of your work ethic. You had a knack for finishing your tasks in record time, which meant you had time to spare to either get ahead of schedule or do the work of someone else who had fallen behind. It didn’t take long for everyone to catch on and hand off their work to you instead of doing it themselves, but ever the team player, you took it on without complaint. Not once in three years did you complain, committing yourself to the company as much as you could.

Which was exactly why you had ended up stuck here with more than you could reasonably handle.

You leaned forward, resting your palms on your desk to try to stretch out the knots forming in your back.

One more week, and you’d finally be working for Gang Orca instead of stewing at this dump.

You had heard wonderful things about his agency; there were far better benefits than you were currently receiving and an employee turnover rate so low it was almost too hard to believe. Your friend had gushed to you about how much she enjoyed working there and even managed to get you the interview that landed you a spot on their financial team.

Unfortunately, that light at the end of the tunnel felt farther off than ever before with the amount of stress you were accruing with these late nights at the office.

You winced as you felt a satisfying pop in your lower back, bringing you some short-lived relief before you felt your shoulders protest and force you to sit straight again.

You heard a door open and close somewhere on your floor, making you curse to yourself.

The janitorial staff was here, meaning it was past 10.

You jumped when you heard a low rumbling come from your right, making you whine at your muscles complaining at the sudden movement. After getting over the initial shock, you realized it was your phone, which you kept in your drawer lately to keep yourself from getting distracted.

You were surprised the battery wasn’t dead yet.

You fished it out of your stuffed drawer, glad you were able to catch it on the final ring before it went to voicemail. You didn’t even check to see who was calling before answering.

“Hello?”

You internally kicked yourself at how tired you sounded.

“Hey.”

You felt some of your fatigue disappear at the sound of the calm voice on the other end.

“Shoto, hey. Is everything okay?” You asked, unable to even pretend you weren’t exhausted.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just got home.”

A relief, truly.

Being the son of the former number one hero of Japan brought Shoto a lot of attention, both good and bad. With crime on the rise, that meant his own work hours had increased, and while the extra money brought some comfort, you worried that he might overwork himself and get hurt.

Like you were one to talk.

“Good! That’s good.” You said, smiling tiredly as you quietly waved to the janitor that passed your desk.

“Yeah. Is everything okay with you?”

You paused, thinking of a way to answer that.

Shoto was a pro hero, and his job was infinitely more dangerous than yours. You knew that whatever difficulties you faced didn’t compare to anything he handled on a given day, so you tried to keep your complaining to a minimum. He knew about your job transfer, but you hadn’t been honest about the reason why. Your reasons felt trivial compared to a hero who goes out into danger most days.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just the usual. There was another call out today so I was the only one in the department. I’m just finishing up these balance sheets and then I’ll be home.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, but you thought nothing of it. Shoto was the type to think before he spoke, so these pauses were frequent.

“That’s really unfortunate, but I’m glad you’re almost done. How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

You looked over at your computer’s clock, squinting to try to see the tiny numbers on the illuminated screen.

10:17

“I don’t know, maybe another half hour? And then the drive home will be another fifteen minutes, so probably close to an hour?” You estimated, rubbing your tired eyes.

“Alright. We’ll get started on dinner then.”

You tensed, feeling guilt wash over you.

You had planned to make dinner for you, Shoto, and Hitoshi when you arrived home, hoping to surprise them before they got off their own shifts. You hadn’t told them about it, but you felt awful that you didn’t get to do your good deed for your boyfriends as you had wanted.

“You guys don’t have to wait up for me, if you’re hungry, please go ahead and eat, Shoto. And if you’re tired you can just go to bed, I’m sure you had a long day.” You insisted with a roll of your neck.

“It’s okay, we don’t mind. I won’t keep you any longer. Just be safe on your way home, and we’ll see you when you get here.” He said.

You nodded, hiding your sigh. “I will be. I’ll see you when I get home.”

With some quick affectionate words, you hung up, groaning as you forced yourself to get out of your seat.

You were grateful that the elevator in your apartment building was functional again as you leaned against the wall, not paying attention to the number climbing with each floor you passed like you normally would. Your eyes were instead closed, listening to the familiar humming of the electricity running the car instead of the soft music playing from the speaker overhead. You had almost fallen asleep during your ride home in the cab, and you wanted to at least try to stay upright until you got to your floor.

Which seemed to be taking an eternity, if you were being honest.

You forced your eyes open, pulling out your phone to check the time.

11:08

You couldn't catch the heavy sigh that rolled out of your throat just before the door opened. The quick reprieve from walking had caused your legs to feel less like lead and more like concrete, which you tried to ignore as you fished for your keys in your pocket when you finally reached your door.

Your day was almost over.

The sound of the door unlocking was music to your ears as you pushed it open, dropping your bag on the floor so you could hold onto the counter to slip your shoes off.

You gasped when you felt something slide across your shoulder blade, jumping and whipping your head around to see a familiar pair of mismatched eyes looking back at you.

"Welcome home."

Your shoulders dropped along with your guard and you leaned forward, resting your face in the crook of Shoto's neck.

You could tell he'd already showered.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

You felt him shake his head, his arm moving down to trap you in a gentle hug that seemed to make the heaviness of your eyes disappear.

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault." He assured you, letting his thumb rub absently against your back. He made no move to pull away, and even though you felt like your ankles were going to give out at any moment, you weren't in any rush, either.

You moved your arms to wrap loosely around him as he tilted his head to kiss you briefly.

"How was your day?" You asked, pulling back to look at his face.

"Better than usual. I think things are getting ready to calm down." He responded.

That was good news.

"That's great. That means you'll be a little safer." You said, blinking as he turned you around and began pulling your coat off for you.

He hummed in affirmation as you pulled your arms out of the sleeves, allowing him to hang the coat up.

"And hopefully your workload will be lighter."

You made a face as you attempted to turn around to face him, but his hands on your round hips kept you rooted in your spot as he pulled you back to lean against his firm chest.

You tilted your head back to rest against his shoulders, feeling him tug on your blouse so it was no longer tucked in the waistband of your skirt. He slid his hand under the light fabric, resting his warm palm against the skin of your stomach.

You could tell he was using his quirk, and you weren't about to complain.

"The bath is ready."

You blinked and turned your head, seeing Hitoshi standing near the hallway, suspiciously still in his work clothes.

Shoto reluctantly pulled away.

"Come on." He said, leading you away from the door. "You need to get off your feet."

Hitoshi had refused to leave you alone while you bathed, and at first you thought it was because he was worried you'd fall asleep in the water, but you understood the real reason when he climbed into the tub first. He'd put off taking a shower in order to join you, which made you feel guilty for just a moment before he assured you that he was glad to finally have a calm moment with you. Your schedules didn't exactly line up lately, so more often than not, one of you was asleep when the other came home.

Hopefully, that would soon come to an end and things could go back to normal.

You allowed him to comb his fingers through your hair as he worked the conditioner through it, doing your best not to doze off as they massaged your scalp. He'd been adamant about doing all the work, and you didn't have it in you to argue with him on a normal day.

"You're taking tomorrow off."

Your eyes snapped open, turning your head to look at him in disbelief.

"What?" You asked dumbly, looking at his calm face.

"I called your boss and let him know you're not going in tomorrow." He said casually, looking unbothered as he moved you so he could rinse your hair without getting the water in your eyes, but you gripped the side of the tub to stop him.

"Toshi, I can't, we're understaffed right now. I'm all they have right now." You protested, feeling your stomach churn anxiously. "Everyone else is sick."

"And you'll be next if you let them keep taking advantage of you." He said, unimpressed. He gently pried your hand off the edge of the tub, carefully tilting you to try to rinse your hair again, and this time you didn't fight him. "They all called out because they know you'll pick up the slack, and this is their last chance before you leave. You're starting somewhere else soon, and you're not going to make a good impression if you're too tired to move the day you get there." He lifted you back up, moving some wet hair off of your face. "So you're taking tomorrow off, and all three of us are going to be unproductive on purpose."

His tone left no room for argument.

You swallowed, still feeling unsure.

"Also, what's he going to do? Fire you? With a week left?"

You let a nervous laugh escape you, the last of your anxiety disappearing.

"Thank you, Hitoshi. I wouldn't have done it myself." You said, resting your back against him and letting your hands gently sit on the edges of the tub again.

His own hands moved to settle over yours.

"We know."

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled your attention away from Hitoshi and towards Shoto, who was wiping his hands with a hand towel.

"Dinner's ready."

The blend of being in clean clothes, well fed, and Shoto's warm hands working on heating your sore joints made you wonder how you had managed to stay awake. It was well past one in the morning, and somehow all three of you didn't seem close to sleeping. Instead, you had all made your way to the couch to get a headstart on your lazy day.

Your legs were currently draped across Shoto's lap, his hand currently rubbing at one of your knees, melting the stiffness away with almost no effort. Hitoshi had assumed the same position he had in the tub, arms caging you against him.

It felt like it had been a lifetime since the last time the three of you were in the same room together like this.

You were glad to be able to breathe again.

Your train of thought was effectively derailed when you felt heat crawl up your leg, making your leg jump instinctively. You tried to sit up, but Hitoshi's arms tightened around you, refusing to let you move. Your eyes darted up to look at him in confusion, and for a moment he looked back at you, but before you could ask him to let you get up, his mouth was on yours, and your request died in your throat.

You closed your eyes, sitting still as you felt warmth glide over the skin of your thigh before ducking under the hem of your shorts.

You counted yourself lucky to have found people who would take care of you when you couldn't.

#shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki imagine #shoto todoroki #hitoshin shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou imagine #hitoshi shinsou #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia #scenario #comfort #director fugue

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years ago

Text

Soulmate September - Day 7

Day 7 - There is a string tied around your pinky that only you can see, the end of it leads to your soulmate.

Pairing(s): Kid AU! Intrulogical

TWs: Remus being Remus [though not overly so, he’s like, 9 here], some swearing

–

Remus Castillo and Logan Smith were two very different children; former was creative and bursting with chaotic energy, while the latter preferred to be more logical, more stable. One studied hard into the night despite his young years, the other decided that a good time was filling a blender with crayons and silly putty to see what would happen. Both attended different schools, lived a good distance apart, and neither of their families knew the other existed.

What could possibly bring together such opposing forces?

If your answer wasn’t being forcibly dragged kicking and screaming from the local museum by security for tampering with the exhibits and screaming about historical theft, then congratulations; you’re most likely still sane.

How did these very different children meet, you ask?

The story began on a Friday lunchtime - as all good stories often do - when Sanders Elementary and Faraday Academy For Gifted Children both booked their museum visits for the same time slot. Thankfully, the museum staff speculated that they could indeed handle two classes of fourth graders at once - those poor, unfortunate souls - and decided to start both classes off on either sides of the museum with a little overlap.

Logan entered the foyer with his peers, gazing around at the array of trinkets and treasures adorning the space. Though he hungered for knowledge of all kinds, his heart was set on the cosmos, reaching for a copy of the museum’s map when his hand was blocked by another. He recoiled and turned to face the other; a boy with tanned skin as opposed to his own pasty complexion, with wild green eyes that bore into Logan’s own, and a grin like a shark about to snap Logan’s hand up in it’s jaws.

“I call dibs, four eyes!”

Logan huffed, straightening his glasses, “There are plenty of maps to go around, there is no need for rudeness-”

“Why do you talk like you’ve got a stick up your ass?”, the boy asked with no hint of remorse nor shame, “Just talk like a regular kid, jeez!”

Logan was flabbergasted. No one had ever talked to him like that before. Then again, no one ever really talked to him in general. Perhaps that was why his lonely little brain could only think to stammer out,

“Who ARE you!?”

The boy roared with laughter, “Wow, thats all you have to say!? And they call ME weird!” , he shot a hand out towards Logan’s, not removing the one touching the map, “I’m Remus! What’s your name, frankenstein?”

Logan huffed, “Logan Smith. And you know,”, he began, puffing his chest out proudly as he yanked the map away, “Frankenstein was the scientist, not the monster, therefore, you’re not insulting me-”

Without hesitation, Remus leant into Logan’s space and licked the map, causing Logan to jolt back and drop it. Picking up his spoils, Remus chuckled manically, “You look smart but you’re super dumb. Frankenstein IS the monster, dumbass, that’s the whole point.”. Without waiting for Logan’s rebuttal, Remus made his way back to his class, leaving Logan to frustratedly grab another map and return to his class, unaware of the string that formed around his pinky…

The tour was everything Logan had hoped for; an informative romp through space and time, enjoying the sights of the planetarium and a walk through a tunnel lined with geodes. And yet, all Logan could think about was that stupid boy who stole HIS map. Hmph! How dare Remus call him stupid! Whatever, at least they would stop soon to have lunch in the Polar Exhibit and he wouldn’t have to think about-

Oh god dammit.

As they entered the wide circular room, he laid eyes on the boy from before pretending to have gotten his tongue stuck to the giant fake iceberg in the centre of the room. Cheering him on was a gaggle of other children while their teacher seemed more content to just eat his own lunch and try to pretend it wasn’t his problem. Logan huffily stormed over to the nearest empty seat and popped open his Big Hero Six lunchbox, ready to moodily munch his jelly sandwiches when a painfully familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“We meet again, professor!”

Great.

“Remus.”, Logan hissed, though he tried to maintain composure, “A pleasure, I’m sure but I must be-”

“- crazy to run away from your soulmate?”, Remus finished, leaving Logan, once again, speechless.

“E-Excuse me!?”

“Check your pinkie, dingus.”

Logan checked and finally noticed the string, and to his horror, the end of it that tied itself around Remus’ pinkie.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for life! Unless I die, then you’re stuck with my corpse. Oooh! Maybe you can bring me back to life! Really earn that Frankenstein nickname-”

“This HAS to be a mistake!”, Logan squeaked, flustered and shocked by the news, “There’s no way YOU are my soulmate!”

Logan made eye contact with Remus and for a moment the boy looked hurt, but he plastered on a grin and poked Logan in the arm, “Nope! Fate thinks you’re my future husband, so suck it!”

Groaning, Logan let out an exasperated sigh, “Fine, then I suppose you should tell me about yourself, Remus.”. Logan would - for eternity and a day after - deny that the smile Remus gave him made his little heart flutter for the first time.

As the two ate, Remus went into a long tangent about his life and Logan found himself absolutely fascinated.

Remus Castillo had a twin brother, Roman, who enjoyed Disney movies and being “an overly wordy drama queen”. They had a single father, much like Logan’s own, whose wife had apparently decided she was destined for greater things that didn’t involve unplanned twin boys (Remus’ words, not his). Logan listened as Remus told him all about his family’s culture, having moved from Aguascalientes to Florida a year ago for work related reasons; retelling fond memories of watching the parade of Calaveras along the Avenida Madero with his father and brother each year. Logan found Remus really enjoyed a mixture of colourful and morbid subjects, each tangent sending Remus on a fun winding road down memory lane or through a vague memory of some educational book.

Logan Smith had wanted nothing to do with the boy who’d licked his hand and stolen his map, but as lunch ended and both classes were being called away to their respective classes, he found he didn’t want to be separated from Remus.

Very apparently, Remus didn’t want to either. If they way he was gasping Logan’s arm and hauling him towards the class from Sanders Elementary instead of his own was any indicator.

“Come on! You can hang with us! Roman won’t mind! And my buddy Remy’s lotsa fun too-”

“Remus Castillo, stop right there.”

Remus indignantly ignored his teacher, plowing through his sentence, “You’ll LOVE my class, they’re all weirdos like us-”

“REMUS!”, barked his teacher, already done with the nine year old terror, “You let that boy go this instant!”

Remus defiantly clung tighter to Logan’s arm, “No!”

“Remus Castillo, you’re to let go NOW.”

“But he’s my soulmate!”, Remus yelled, causing his classmates to chatter excitedly. It made Logan feel a little self conscious, but Remus didn’t seem to care, “Pleeeeease let him come with us!!”

His teacher rubbed his temples as if it could massage the exhaustion away, “That’s nice, but you are NOT going to cause more trouble, soulmate or not!”

By now, even the children and teacher from Logan’s academy were watching the commotion. It came to a head as Remus’ teacher tried to separate the two of them, earning the tiniest war cry from Remus as he stomped on his teacher’s foot and clung fully to Logan like his life depended on it.

“I’M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT HIM! I’LL STAY HERE UNTIL WE’RE A GROSS MUSHY PILE OF SKIN AND BONES IF I HAVE TO!”

With that pleasant image in his brain, Logan decided to perhaps appeal to his own teacher,

“Miss, can Remus perhaps stay with our group so we may avoid further-”

“Absolutely not,”, she turned up her nose at Remus’ display, “Our school has a reputation to uphold, I will not have it sullied by such a rude child.”

Well that backfired. Now both teachers were having to try and separate the two of them. It took two of the museum’s security personnel to finally haul Remus off of Logan, carrying the writhing child as they assured his teacher that they’d put him in the tantrum room. With the way they handled his feral yelling and attempts to grab at any nearby exhibits for something he could use to bash them with, this probably wasn’t their first Rabid Child Rodeo.

Logan watched dejectedly as they hauled his soulmate out of sight while his teacher ordered him to get in line as they continued their tour. He couldn’t focus on any of the various bewitching artifacts that the guide presented to them on their tour of the ancient world though, all he could think about was Remus. Alone. Stuck in some room. Missing out on the exhibits. Missing him.

“....Emile?”, Logan asked the boy standing to his left.

“Yes, Logan?”

“I’m about to do something very, very impulsive.”

“.... Okay?”

“And reckless.”

“...Right-”

“In the name of fate.”

“........”, Emile sighed, “What do you need me to do?”

“Either talk me out of what is likely a terrible decision that will without a doubt go on my permanent record and possibly disappoint my father. Or encourage me so that I may spend time with my soulmate for as long as possible.”

Emile shook his head, “Well, if cartoons have taught me anything, it’s that you’re gonna go for it no matter what I say so...”. He placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder, “Make it good, Logan, I wanna remember the day the untouchable Logan Smith lost his mind.”. With a shared chuckle, Emile let him wind up for whatever he was about to do, while Logan waited for his moment. The tour guide was gesturing to an exhibit of ancient Mayan armour when Logan chose to strike, raising his hand while Emile awaited the fireworks show to come.

“Sir? I have a question.“

“Of course, what is it?”

“Did the museum ask permission to have that armour?”

The guide looked confused while Logan’s teacher looked ready to have an aneurysm.

“I… don’t understand what you mean. Anyway this-”

“I’m merely asking,”, Logan interrupted, ready to keep pushing until he would be hauled off by security, “because I believe that if it were my culture being mercilessly appropriated and stolen from, I would be rather upset.”

“We’re allowed to have it because it’s for education-”

“But it’s still stealing. And stealing is always wrong, correct?”

“Well, it-”

“It’s a yes or no question, please answer as such-”

Remus hadn’t expected company in the tantrum room, but he wasn’t complaining as Logan was marched in, looking positively proud of himself in spite of the way the security guard nearly tossed him inside with obvious frustration. With a bright grin, Remus pat the beanbag next to him, positively writhing with unbridled joy, “Spill! What’d you do?!”.

Logan tried to play stoic and prideful, but the excitement cracked through in his voice, “I merely inquired as to why museums considered their historical thievery to be ethically justified until the tour guide got angry and attempted to ignore me.”. “Sick!! Then what!?”, Remus’ delighted eyes met Logan’s with a similar sparkle of mischief.

Logan chuckled as he admired their string of fate, as people called it, slowly pulling his eyes from it to meet Remus’ again, “I screamed. Loudly. For quite the duration. I must say, I’m rather proud of my own lung capacity.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness in it.

“Naturally, security came to try and calm the situation.”

“And then they brought you here?”

“No, they attempted to calm me down”, Logan snickered, “But, one of them put a hand on my shoulder rather rudely. So I bit them-” “YOU BIT ‘EM!?”, if Logan could bottle the light that radiated from Remus there and then, he would have, his own smile growing while his soulmate’s grin threatened to tear through his cheeks, “Logan, mi alma, you’re insane! I love it!”

“Mi alma?”, Logan queried, his cheeks losing the great blush war as his face radiated a nice rosy crimson.

“Oh, right!”, Remus explained, “It means ‘my soul’, it’s what people call their boyfriends ‘n’ stuff back home. I figured since you’re my soulmate, it makes sense to call you that!”

For a moment, Remus faltered, “Uh…. if you don’t mind I guess? It’s whatever, I’ll stop if you hate it-”

“No, no, I rather appreciate the sentiment,” , Logan awkwardly smiled back at Remus, “Mi alma?”

The wilder of the two threw his head back in a roar laughter, “Man, your pronunciation sucks! And that’s an easy one!“, he teased as he shuffled his beanbag closer to Logan’s and continued with a wild smile, “Looks like I gotta stay with you for sure now and make sure you get it right! You’re stuck with me, Nerdy Wolverine!”

It would be hard work convincing his father to let him move schools to be with Remus, Logan knew that. Despite the fact his father adored love in all forms and regarded the bond of soulmates as sacred, Logan knew it’d logically be a hard sell to ask his father to not only pull him out of an expensive academy, but also to have him possibly move home or make a rather lengthy commute.

But as Remus’ had met Logan’s, the latter found himself locking fingers with his wild soulmate, banishing that thought while they still had time together. Whether it would work out right away, after a couple of months, or even over the course of a few years, they’d make it work.

“Falsehood,”, Logan smirked, “I believe it’s you that’s stuck with me.”

-----------

Okay, this one’s the cutest thing hands down. I’m so proud of this one! As a tidbit, I had it in mind that their single fathers were Janus for the twins and Patton for Logan.

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses

#intrulogical #logan sanders #remus sanders #tsshipmonth2020 #soulmate september #my fics #fanfics #theyre so cute i cry #also incase its confusing #i figured that in this universe #people probably still get married and such like #to people who arent their soulmates #if they feel they want to just settle down but that they won't meet their soulmate #so thats the explaination for Janus being a single parent #as for patton #i like to thing he just adopted logan

383 notes · View notes

lettrespromises · 4 years ago

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THE FORGOTTEN DAY. - AKAASHI, DAICHI, KUROO, ATSUMU.

@luveranime wrote : ❝Hey Nikki its me again lmao 😂. Could you do one where they actually completely forget your birthday? With Akaashi, daichi, kuroo, and atsumu? Make it angst please🥺❞

A.N: ❝dear reader,

thank you so much for trusting me once more with your request! i always love writing the requests even more so than my own prompts. i sincerely hope you’ll like these hc’s, i tried to make these as angsty as i could but atsumu has two braincells and i could NOT resist the temptation of doing something more lighthearted, i hope you won’t be mad at me! mwah! enjoy your promised letter!

sincerely yours, nikki❞

Genre: Kinda angsty, kinda fluffy. Warnings: Cursing, crying.

Now, Akaashi is not one to forget about dates and birthdays. I’m pretty sure he has a notebook filled with everyone’s birthdays written in a chronological order. Needless to say, he’s someone who is extremely organized.

He is the kind of boyfriend to remember all the slightest details you mention when you guys have a conversation. We’re talking about small details, pieces of informations that others wouldn’t necessarily pick up on except if your name is Akaashi Keiji. (I.E: he knows that Bokuto-san classifies his underwear according to each day of the week.)

The week leading up to your birthday, he makes sure to leave several notes stuck on your notebooks, laptop, mug, even your jacket to let you know how loved you are and how exceptional of a human being you are.

Unfortunately for you, your birthday has the misfortune of being set right during the revision week leading to the final exams. The latter are extremely important to Akaashi because missing his exams would result in him not being able to go to inter-school volleyball training held during the weekend.

Even though he’s in a relationship, he can be quite distant when something is bothering him because he refuses categorically to drown you with his problems, revisions being one of them. He’s so driven to study hard (although he’s already an excellent student), that everything else appears as a blur to him- he breathes revisions, eats revisions, lives for revisions.

The latter causes him to inevitably forget about your birthday. At first, you just think he’s playing along with you and he has this huge and sweet surprise in store for you which might explain why he hasn’t left you any love notes or sent you any texts, or even avoid you at school.

The evening of your birthday, you crash down at his place, a bit perplexed at his antics. But, unconsciously, you were still in denial, you knew or at least hoped that he was just purposefully acting as such because he wanted to surprise you for your birthday.

When he opens the door and sees you, he has a quizzical look on his face “Um, hello, Y/N? May I ask what you’re doing here, dove?”

Now, it was your turn to have a quizzical look on your face, “So you really don’t know? Isn’t it, you know, a special day?”

His mind is so coated by his obsession to study hard that nothing comes to his mind, nothing to answer to your interrogation and eventually, nothing to leave his mouth as a response. He could swear there’s something he has forgotten, it’s somehow on the tip of his tongue but no sound is echoed on his part.

“You know what, Akaashi, just don’t make promises you can’t keep. I hope these notes you left me will help you.”

First of all, you called him Akaashi instead of Keiji, meaning that there was something terribly wrong with him or his deeds.

Second of all, he looked carefully enough, there were pearls of tears on the corner of your eyes.

Third of all, he was so taken aback, as if all his memory had resurfaced in the blink of an eye that he still couldn’t find the strength to say something. Instead, his eyes wandered on your figure, his back facing you, already on your way home. The sole reflex he had was to raise his hand in your direction, as if he could catch your silhouette already long gone, hopelessly.

Daichi is already the (unofficial) dad of troublesome children (thank the heavens for mama Sugawara and uncle Asahi), which means not only he has to juggle between his duty as a captain and as a student, but he also must make sure of the stability of your relationship.

It’s really taking a toll on him. Seeing him come home late after late night practice is not even surprising anymore, he just comes to your place and crashes down for the night at unbelievable hours- sometimes ten, sometimes eleven.

His role of captain is so dear to his heart and he’s kind of an all or nothing kind of guy. But when it comes to the volleyball team, he pours every once of passion, patience and energy he has to offer. He knows that the first years have literally gifts when it comes to playing and he wants to exploit their potential at the fullest.

Nonetheless, when it comes to remembering dates, Daichi (being an unofficial dad) has the tendency to remember rather quickly common dates like birthdays, if not, he can always count on Suga to remind him in case he gets too hotheaded into what he’s doing.

On the day of your birthday, he sent you a myriad of texts, mini-novels if you will. All of them were the testimonies of the love he held in your regard, he was so thoughtful, each one of his word was carefully chosen to make you feel like the most loved person on the planet.

Starting the day off with a series of loving texts from your boyfriend is indeed the best way to wake up.

However, after close inspection, the last text he had sent you mentioned a date tonight at your favorite restaurant in town because, and I quote, “you deserve to be treated like the royalty you are.”

Focusing in class was almost impossible, the only thing occupying your mind was tonight’s date with Daichi, just the two of you on your birthday. And truth be told, there was no other way you’d rather spend this ever so special day.

Right after the bell rang, you made a beeline to your place to get ready as Daichi told you he would pick you up at 7, right after practice. Your heart was bursting with joy and impatience, a sweet mix of emotions which made you feel overwhelmed by love.

It was 7 already and your eyes were stuck on the alley of your house, waiting to see Daichi’s car arrive and admire the beautiful, lovestruck grin plastered upon his face.

Then it was 8, and suspicions started to arise in your mind. Your head was clouded by interrogations : “Does he not love me anymore?”, “Is this is way of telling me we should break up?”

Then 9, then 10 and eventually 11.

You waited four hours to hear a sign from Daichi, and you couldn’t keep up with the countless texts you had sent him, wondering where he was. But, you still had hope. Heart-crushing hope that is, or maybe you were just stuck in pure denial.

You were sitting on a chair, several stains of tears on your cheeks already, facing the window which offered a view outside your house because “You never know, he might show up...”

At 11, your phone rang and Daichi’s number highlighted the screen. You were so quick to pick up the phone, your quickness was almost inhuman.

“Baby? Hi, it’s me. Are you still awake?” You hummed in response, scared of the way your voice would break if you were to talk. “Listen, practice-...”, you cut him off : “Practice ran late again, I know, Daichi.”

There was a moment of silence on his end of the line, a moment of guilt.

“Baby, you have no idea how sorry I am. It’s just the team and the firs-...” - “I know, the gifted first years.” your voice was barely above a whisper.

“We can reschedule tomorrow if you want, I’ll ask Ennoshita to take care of the training for me.” He sounded desperate, eaten alive by the guilt consuming him and the fragile tone of your voice, you sounded like a broken record.

“Tomorrow won’t be my birthday anymore, Daichi, you know that.” You knew that if you were to hear the sound of his voice again, you were bound to break in tears, and as much as he hurt you, you knew it wasn’t his fault and you didn’t want to make him feel even more guilty than he already was feeling.

Instead, you hung up while he was still rambling about confused apologies and you headed straight to your room, head low, fresh tears crashing on the stains left by the dried tears. Like an eternal circle, if you will.

Kuroo is someone who is extremely observant by nature, just look at the way he behaves around Kenma- he doesn’t need for you to talk to know how you’re feeling and can directly dissect what’s wrong with you.

So when he finds himself having a one-sided discussion with you, (or a double-sided conversation if you deem silence as a worthy response), his brain automatically goes on retrospection mode and he’s trying to reminisce absolutely everything that happened during the last 48 hours.

The science-related puns don’t work, the teasing is a crushing defeat, all his best aces fail to put a smile on your face or make you crack a laugh. You’re still silent, or if he’s lucky enough, he can hear the faint sound of hum leaving your lips.

His last option is to ask Kenma because Kenma appears as an omniscient point of view in your relationship. And although he’s not directly involved in your couple, he always seems to find the responses to the riddles left by the cons of being in a relationship.

Kuroo and Kenma are having lunch outside, as expected of the blonde individual, his eyes are solely focused on the device held between his hands, but Kuroo is used to it.

“Man, I just don’t get why Y/N is giving me the cold shoulder, it’s really weighing on my mind.”

“Are you sure you don’t know, or do you act as if you don’t know?”

“Ha? What do you mean?”

“Yesterday was Y/N’s birthday, just in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Oh... Oh! It’s time to panic, it’s time to leave his brain on overdrive and find a solution to make up for what he judged an inexcusable behavior.

What broke his heart even more is when he imagined to put himself into your shoes, how heartbroken you must have felt, how alone you must have felt, he even wondered if you wanted to break up with him.

Sure, Kuroo was observant, but sometimes being a airhead got the best of him. Or perhaps in this case, the worse of him.

He froze, his mouth was set agape and kind of like Akaashi, in moments of panic, he didn’t know what to do. He felt defeatist, he knew that forgetting your birthday was a dealbreaker. He already thought of all the consequences of his actions, and he knew that none of these consequences would turn out good in any way.

He ran through the hallways like a madman, yelling to the other students to step aside as he did so. He knew where you were, and he felt so stupid for knowing your timetable off by heart but not being able to remember such a simple date as your birthday.

You were having lunch in class with your friends, and when a hint of a roster’s head peaked through the door, making hand gestures to silently tell you to come see him, you excused yourself and left the class under the puzzling looks of your friends.

To say that Kuroo was sweating was an understatement, he was absolutely shaking to death and he exuded guilt by every pore of his body. Your gaze landed on his face, and your expression seemed lifeless- where did the usual gleam in your eyes go? The shine in your eyes he loved so much?

“You’re free to insult me for the rest of my days on this planet. I know I messed up, I messed up so bad and I don’t even know how to-... Hey? Oi, Y/N, please, please don’t cry.”

If he needed yet another reason to feel guilty, that was his cue. The tears falling in cascade on your face, the scarlet tones of your eyes, everything about you screamed pure sadness.

Both of your hearts broke in unison, and the motion of his hands to capture you and hold him close to his chest was so experimental, as if he’d never held you in his arms in his entire life.

“Why did you forget, Tetsu?”

“I swear on my life that it was unintentional. I know you won’t forgive me anytime soon and, kitten, you have every right to do so. I know it’s not an excuse but just believe me when I say that it was unintentional. I’m so sorry, you have no idea.”

“Just wish me a happy birthday instead of rambling.”

“Happy birthday, kitten, I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

As the manager of the volleyball team, you were Inarizaki’s pride and joy. You were a literal ray of sunshine, the embodiment of a gem and you were always cherished by the entire team for helping them so much.

You always made sure they drank enough, prepped several towels in case they sweated too much (they always did), listened to their problems, eased their doubts- you were undeniably perfect to them.

So perfect that Osamu, as well as the rest of the team, always wondered how and why you ended up with his airhead of a twin, or rather, and I quote, “The useless piss-haired twin.”

To be frank, if it wasn’t for you, Atsumu would probably be dead by now. The cause of his death? Osamu himself? The whole team? His stupidity? We shall never know.

You cannot expect Atsumu to remember any specific dates, he even struggles to remember his own birthday which results in him asking when was his brother born and Osamu letting out a desperate sigh, wondering what on Earth did he do in his previous life to deserve such a twin.

Nonetheless, Osamu’s cooking skills came in handy. The whole team had agreed on celebrating your birthday, a kind of surprise birthday after practice if you will, because you were so good to them.

The divine smell of the cake didn’t go unsmelled (please help is that even a word?? no it’s not but i couldn’t say ‘go unseen’ because a smell can’t be seen like???) by none other than Atsumu himself. “Whatcha’ baking this for?” Osamu didn’t even bother to throw a glance in his twin brother’s direction “You should know, idiot.”

Safe to say that Atsumu got absolutely z e r o information from his brother whatsoever and was thus left in general incomprehension. He then figured that maybe it was someone’s birthday given how well looking the cake was, but whose birthday was it? Once again, z e r o idea.

After practice, the whole team gathered to show you the surprise they had in store for you- Kita had stuck some ‘happy birthday’ posters on the wall, Osamu had brought the cake and Aran had the gift from the whole team in his hands. The preparation was quick and efficient, all while you were changing in your more regular outfit in the locker room.

Needless to say, Atsumu still had z e r o clue to whose birthday they were going to celebrate but the grin on his face still testified of how happy he was.

When you exited the locker room to say goodbye to the rest of the team, you were absolutely overwhelmed by joy when you saw them gathered together, a radiant smile plastered upon their face, they were so proud of themselves and most of all, they were proud to be the reason of your happiness.

Reflex kicked, both of your hands covered your mouth and your vision quickly became blurry from the pearls of tears gathering at the brim of your eyes. To say that you were happy was an understatement, you felt so moved, so touched that this whole surprise was for your birthd-

“Hold up, I thought it was mom’s birthday? Who’s the cake for?”

The look on Osamu’s face screamed “Someone hold me back before I kill this idiot with my bare hands.”

Kita threw a volleyball at the back of Atsumu’s head.

Suna was crying on the inside out of desperation.

Hitoshi was holding Osamu back.

The rest of the team eventually ganged up on Atsumu for even daring to forget their sweet angel’s birthday while you were standing there, dumbfounded to say the least, torn between crying and laughing.

You didn’t even need to make Atsumu pay for his mistake, the team had made sure to make him pay for the next ten years (if I’m being generous.)

So... Happy birthday... I guess?

348 notes · View notes

wheresmynaya · 4 years ago

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Lost in the Lights Ch.16|Brittana

A/N - Better late than never, am I right? 😅 Sorry for the delay, it has been a struggle to write but thanks for being patient and not spamming me with demands for an update. I must be a glutton for punishment though because I've decided that this final chapter will have two parts now. Here's part one. Enjoy!

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

Despite the pristine shape Brittany keeps herself in, she breathes heavily in the crisp December air. Her lungs feel like they’re growing icicles and she’s struggling to keep her hands from going numb in the frigid temperature. There’s no doubt her nose is as red as Rudolph’s by now and she can barely feel her lips as she calls out play after play, but she persists.

She always persists.

Afterall, this is the last football practice of her high school career.

It’s an important milestone for her but the couple of hours Coach Beiste added to practice makes it a little harder to enjoy – especially now that the sun sets earlier and the temperature drops faster. But Brittany figures high school football practices are a walk in the park compared to college level, so she goes through the motions as per usual and soaks in the moment while it lasts.

At the sound of Coach Beiste’s whistle, everyone gets set for another play and Brittany readies herself for the snap.

When the ball is hiked, Brittany takes it into her hands and tries to drop back so she can fire downfield. The Titan defense is too aggressive for her new O-Line though and soon the pocket she’s in begins to collapse. Defensive players are coming at her from all angles so she has to duck and dodge. It’s a mad scramble to avoid a sack but there’s nothing more to do than to throw the ball away for an incompletion.

When the play is called dead, there’s some shoving amongst her frustrated linemen but she wedges herself in between the guys, forcing them apart with a firm push. The tension has been growing since last night’s practice, but they can’t fall apart now. There’s too much at stake.

“It’s alright, guys! We’re almost there!” Brittany tries to encourage her team although she’s starting to sense the discouragement, “Keep pushing! We’ll get this.”

“Jackson! Ridley! You have got to step it up,” Coach drills for the tenth time, “Pierce was this close to a sack. You have to offer more protection than that or we’re getting our butts handed to us tomorrow night.”

The replacements for Azimio and Karofsky nod diligently. The two eagerly accepted the challenge when Coach Beiste called upon them to step up after dismissing Azimio and Karofsky. The only problem is that they mostly practiced on defense so protecting the quarterback is new terrain for them.

“This isn’t Carmel’s first rodeo, folks. They’re the defending champs for how many years now? We have to do better than this. I know we can, we wouldn’t have a record like ours if we couldn’t,” Coach continues.

And it’s true. From where the Titans were as a team in the beginning of the season to now is a drastic improvement. Hell, they’re playing better than they ever have! The loss of Azimio and Karofsky was only a minor setback, but the team has faced adversity before and they can do it again.

Besides, they’re better off without them.

“Carmel’s time at the top is over,” Brittany adds as she looks around at her team, “Right, Titans?”

The team starts to hype themselves up again as they cheer on Brittany’s words and the quarterback smiles proudly at the response.

“Alright, let’s run it again and this time hold the line longer than half a second,” Coach instructs, “We know Pierces has wheels, but she shouldn’t have to scramble. Line up!”

The Titans all gravitate back to the line of scrimmage at the Coach’s command and begin again.

With only two practices on offense under the replacements’ belt and the big game just a mere 24 hours away, all Brittany can do now is have faith that they’ll be able to iron out most of the kinks and everything will work out just fine.

It has to.

It’s a restless night’s sleep for Brittany before the big game, but that’s nothing new. She always gets the jitters on game day, but there’s something else that looms over her and she can’t quite decided if it’s good or bad. It lingers throughout her morning run and usual routine of getting ready for the school day. It’s there as she texts Santana good morning and it’s even there when she joins her mom and Pete for breakfast downstairs.

“Nice shirt, Petey!” Brittany compliments before pressing a kiss to the top of her brother’s head.

Pete puffs out his chest and does a cute little flex to show off his custom-made Pierce Power t-shirt in WMHS colors. Brittany starts to mimic him and soon the two are having a flex-off at the kitchen counter.

Whitney can only laugh at the pair as she plates up their banana pancakes. That odd feeling still lingers as they all settle down to eat, but it’s kind of comforting above anything else.

With her car keys in hand, Brittany’s just about to head out the door when she catches a glimmer from the corner of her eye. The morning sun trickles in through the tiny opening left in the living room curtains and falls on a silver picture frame on the fireplace mantle. In the frame is a picture of a young Brittany wearing a football jersey that’s two sizes too big and she’s giving the camera a toothy grin as she holds a football that’s two sizes too big for her tiny hands.

But behind her, supporting the ball in her tiny hands so she doesn’t drop it is her dad and he looks just as proud as he always did to be there to support her. It’s one of Brittany’s favorite pictures of them – the first time she was introduced to football. It wouldn’t be for a couple more years that she’d actually take to the field, but in that picture is where her interest begin.

It wasn’t forced upon her. It wasn’t her dad trying to live vicariously through her. It was just a moment between a father and daughter. A moment that shaped her and encouraged her to be this great athlete, but above all – a great person. If it wasn’t for him, maybe she would’ve never touched a football?

Brittany starts to get a little choked up because he should be here. He should be in those stands tonight cheering louder than anyone else there just like he has done all of her life. He should be with her, looking just as proud as he does in that picture.

She starts to feel that familiar pain in her chest, the slow building anger, because it isn’t fair. Of all the great dads in the world, why did it have to be hers? But then she remembers something her mom told her once after having one of her nightmares.

“He’ll always be with you, Britt. He’s in every pretty sunset and sunrise. He’s there for every game and every one of your touchdowns. You might not be able to see him anymore or hear him, but he’s there. You’ll feel it.”

It’s not until that moment that Brittany begins to realize what that feeling that’s lingered around her all morning might be. It’s the first time she’s really felt it in a long time and she quietly wishes he’d visit more often.

At that, she gives the picture one last smile before heading out the door.

When she arrives to WMHS’ student parking lot, Brittany finds that she has beaten Santana to school for a second morning in a row. She chuckles as she remembers the garbled nonsense Santana had sent in reply to Brittany’s Good Morning text and decides to head inside and wait for Santana by their lockers instead. The girl has been known to show up with just a few minutes left to spare before first bell and Brittany needs a little more time than that to get ready for class.

On the walk to her locker, Brittany is greeted by several students and faculty wishing her luck tonight. She smiles and thanks them like she has grown accustomed to doing over the past few months, although sometimes she still can’t believe they all treat her like some type of celebrity.

She spots some of her teammates in the hall dressed similarly to her in their blue jeans and Game Day jerseys. The only thing Brittany’s missing is her letterman jacket but she can thank the Puck Heads for that.

“Sup Pierce!” Puck calls out before he and Finn bump knuckles with her, “Ready for tonight?”

“Totally,” Brittany responds confidently, “You?”

“Hell yeah!” Puck answers, “Can’t wait to saw right through those guys.”

“Seriously! Wish we got to have the school day off or something,” Finn says, “Like a Titans Skip Day?”

“Dude, genius idea!” Puck replies, “No way I’ll be able to concentrate on stuff today.”

Brittany knows the feeling but she doesn’t say that, “I know, that would be so awesome but no skipping. Coach checks if we’re all in class.”

“Damn,” Finn and Puck grumble in unison.

Brittany only laughs as she continues her walk, “Would be cool though. I’ll catch you later.”

When she gets to her locker, Brittany starts pulling out the books she doesn’t need yet from her book bag in exchange for the ones she’ll need for her first class. She’s trying her hardest to remember what she needs for class, but with the entire school going on and on about this game tonight it’s difficult to focus on much else.

That Titans Skip Day starts to sound really good as she finishes up stuffing her book bag. She only wishes it were a real thing as JBI rounds the corner with his mic and cameraman in tow.

“Good morning, Brittany!” JBI says cheerfully, “Do you have time for a quick interview?”

Brittany’s brows rise, “You’re asking first?”

JBI’s cheerfulness falters slightly, “New policy.”

Brittany looks around the hall for Santana but she still isn’t around so she figures she can throw JBI a bone. It’ll probably be the last interview she’ll have to do anyway and since he asked nicely, she might as well do it.

“Alright then. Shoot.”

“Awesome!” JBI then looks to the camera guy and gestures for him to start filming.

Brittany straightens up and tries to prepare herself for whatever questions might be thrown her way. Surprisingly though, the first three are pretty easy for her to answer. In fact, it starts off as a relatively legit interview void of gossipy comments.

Key words though: starts off.

“What about the loss of Karofsky and Azimio?” JBI questions, “With the change being made just two days out from the big game, are there any regrets?”

Brittany takes a moment before answering, “I’m not going to question the decision my Coach made, so no I don’t have any regrets. I don’t really consider it a loss, it was more of gain. Taking their place are two players who have been on our defense’s practice squad and they’re super excited to show everyone what they’ve got.”

JBI doesn’t seem satisfied with her diplomatic answer and presses further, “How prepared can someone possibly be with only two days of practice? Doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“Well, you can thank Karofsky and Azimio for that,” Brittany replies too quickly, “They were the ones that decided not to carry themselves like they should. Would it have been nice to get a little more practice in with the new guys? Sure, but they were the ones who let this team down, who let me down.”

“So it was a personal matter that got them kicked off the team?” JBI presses.

Brittany grits her teeth, “If you want to know their story then go ask them for the details.”

JBI backs off with a sigh, “Okay. So with a couple key players out of the way, do you have any concerns about the outcome of tonight’s game?”

“No. We’re going out there to win tonight,” Brittany says confidently, “We’re a resilient bunch of talented players, we can overcome just about anything if we continue to work as a team. Jackson and Ridley should be given more credit because they’re doing fantastic given the short notice.”

“Hopefully that’ll reflect in tonight’s game,” JBI changes gears once he realizes Brittany isn’t going to fall into his trap, “There's also a rumor going around that the entire hockey team has been required to attend the game tonight. Can you confirm this?”

“Is that considered a rumor?” Brittany questions. JBI nods eagerly but Brittany just shrugs, “Well yeah, Coach Beiste found out that they haven’t actually attended a Titans game ever so she figured this would be the best way for them to get over their…feelings towards me and the team. A lot of their aggression comes from ignorance so hopefully tonight we can change that. It's important that we all support each other, we all play for the same school so when we succeed we all do.”

“And if you don't win?” JBI presses, “The last time the Titans competed against Carmel the score was 23 – 7; you guys were demolished. It would be pretty embarrassing now with the Puck Heads there because you’re not losing in front of just one rival, you're doing it in front of two.”

Brittany feels her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t thought about that before and she finds herself struggling to come up with a quick, diplomatic response.

“Why the hell would you say something like that?”

Brittany turns to the familiar voice and finds Santana walking up with this scowl on her face. The crowds of students quickly get out of her way as she saunters over to the pair. JBI looks like he’s a deer caught in the headlights and Santana thrives on it as the scowl turns devilish.

“What’s the matter with you, huh?” Santana snaps and gives him a little shove out of the way since he was blocking her locker.

“What?” JBI asks innocently. Brittany swears she sees him shiver.

“How about a good luck tonight or you’ve done an amazing job with the team this season?” Santana prompts with faux-excitement before the scowl returns, “God, the shit you spout. No wonder you’re always in a dumpster.”

Brittany stifles a laugh while Santana just shakes her head at him.

“I – I’m not always in a dumpster,” JBI counters but Santana only waves him off as she glances at Brittany. There’s just a hint of a smile there, but it’s enough for the quarterback to find her confidence again.

“Well to answer your question, JBI,” Brittany replies, “If we don’t come out on top tonight, at least we played at all. Right? Have you competed in any Championship games lately? Has anyone at this school besides the Cheerios competed in a Championship?”

JBI’s shoulders sink a little while Santana smiles proudly.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Brittany adds.

“And on that note,” Santana says to him, “Kindly fuck off.”

Once JBI and his friend shuffle away, Santana’s demeanor softens just a little more.

“Sorry I missed you in the parking lot,” Santana apologizes, “I couldn’t find my keys this morning and Quinn was meant to drop off your – “

Santana’s sentence is cut off by Brittany stealing a quick kiss while they’re shielded by their locker doors being open. Santana’s lips are still a little cold from her being outside but it doesn’t last once she has Brittany’s on her. It’s soft and sweet and for a second they forget they’re even at school.

“Mornin’,” Brittany says once she pulls away wearing her infamous mega-watt smile, “How are you?”

Santana blinks at the casual tone and lets out a chuckle, “I’m good now. How are you?”

Brittany looks down the hall where JBI is now trying to interview Puck and Finn. She shakes her head at that and laughs, “Well...it’s a typical day at William McKinley.”

“There’s always something,” Santana chuckles as she starts rummaging through her locker, “How are you feeling about today?”

“I feel good,” Brittany nods, “I feel ready. A bit nervous because there’s a lot riding on this game…”

“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about,” Santana assures her with a smile, “You’re the best of the best. Both on the field and off.”

Brittany feels her cheeks pink at the compliment.

“I for one can’t wait to see you play,” Santana adds before sending her a smirk, “I’ve never seen someone look so good in that uniform.”

“Okay,” Brittany blushes, “Stop while you’re ahead or else I might make you miss first bell.”

Santana giggles seductively just as a group of freshman girls walk by them.

“Good luck tonight, Brittany!” One girl says, “You’re an inspiration to us all.”

Brittany gives them an awkward but polite smile, “Thank you.”

They all chatter amongst themselves excitedly as they move on down the hall. Santana looks at them then back to Brittany as a smirk forms.

“I see your fan club is very active today,” She teases.

Brittany rolls her eyes, “They’re excited. It’s the first Championship game for a lot of people here, they’re bound to be a little…enthusiastic. Plus there’s the whole first female QB thing that no one will forget so yeah, they’re active today.”

“Just remember who your real number one fan is,” Santana flirts with a tug to the hem of Brittany’s jersey.

“Who’s that?”

Santana tugs a little harder causing Brittany to come closer as she quirks her brow.

“Right,” Brittany smirks, “I might need more reminding later.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhmm,” Brittany hums, “I might need help warming up too.”

“I bet you do,” Santana teases as she leans in for a quick kiss, “Luckily, I’m good at doing both.”

“God,” Someone scoffs, “Get a room.”

Santana scowls at the interruption but as she and Brittany pull away they find Quinn standing there smirking. One hand is on her hip while a coat protector dangles from the other.

“I see why you couldn’t wait two more minutes,” Quinn mentions with a chuckle, “Had to go and scar everyone with whatever’s going on here.”

Santana rolls her eyes playfully, “Please, our lips barely even grazed.”

Brittany chuckles at that.

“Besides,” Santana continues, “It was either wait on your ass for who knows how long or see my wonderful, amazing girlfriend. It was a pretty easy decision to make.”

“Yeah yeah,” Quinn jokes as she hands Brittany the hanger, “This is for you, Britt.”

Brittany looks a little confused as she takes it but then she gets a peek of crimson red fabric from the opening of the bag and realizes what it is.

“Hey, it’s my jacket!” Brittany exclaims.

“I rushed the order,” Quinn shrugs as Santana helps Brittany unzip the bag.

“Thank you so much,” Brittany wastes no time putting it on over her jersey. She was never one to walk around in her letterman jacket all the time, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her feel a little more complete now.

“Looking good,” Santana winks before adjusting Brittany’s collar.

Brittany blushes before turning back to Quinn, “I really appreciate this, Quinn. Let me know what I owe you so I can pay you back.”

Quinn waves her off, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Brittany asks, “A rush order like this couldn’t have been cheap.”

“It’s fine, really,” Quinn assures her, “Just kill it tonight.”

Brittany only grins, “I can do that.”

And the Titans do kill it…at first.

They hit the ground running and were able to score touchdowns on their first two drives, making the score 14 – 0 within the first five minutes of the game! The quick lead really got the crowd going in favor of the Titans – Brittany was sure she could hear her mom and Pete cheering her on all the way from the stands. Even the Puck Heads looked somewhat interested in the game. She and the team used all that energy and gave each play their all and then some.

For most of the first quarter, the Titans were crushing Carmel on offense and their star quarterback, Jesse St. James, was not happy about that. The guy practically threw a temper tantrum anytime the Titans scored, it was so sad. It’s a surprise the refs hadn’t called any penalties, but with a rivalry like there’s everyone was ready for the tension.

Whenever the Camels would score, the Titans were all too happy to respond with a touchdown of their own. With the amount of touchdown passes Brittany was throwing, she was nearing a record-breaking game and they were still only in the first half.

It was a shoot out up until the ball was picked off of Mike midway in the second quarter which changed the tides in favor of the Camels.

With that small advantage, it was like new life was breathed into Carmel. From then on, it felt like Brittany and the Titans were playing catch up, just hoping to maintain their 14 point lead that the Camels were quickly closing in on.

Unfortunately on the Titans’ next drive, they’re unable to make it into the endzone. The Camels use that to their advantage once again and do what the Titans couldn’t: score.

That brings it to 35 – 28 with the Titans still in the lead but only by a single touchdown.

“Not today, sweetheart!” A Carmel defender taunts in Brittany’s direction after her pass was swatted down. The player jogs alongside her and flexes, “Maybe if you had guns like these you could get through me!”

Brittany does her best to ignore him, but he’s been running his mouth all night and she’s starting to reach her boiling point. She can’t lose her cool though, not tonight, so she just keeps her eyes forward in hopes that he’ll lose interest.

After another failed drive for the Titans offense, Brittany makes her way to the sidelines with her helmet in her hand. She’s given a water bottle and takes a quick drink before wiping the sweat from her face with a towel. Although she’s starting to get a little frustrated, Brittany keeps those feelings to herself as she reaches for the Titans playbook.

“There’s got to be something we haven’t tried,” Brittany mutters to herself as she flips through.

She’s looking for something that Carmel wouldn’t expect from them, something that’ll give the Titans that edge that’s been missing so far. Though it’s still early in the game, it feels like Carmel is starting to play one step ahead of them and Brittany wants to find a way to stop that before it’s too late.

As she flips through the plays, constantly tucking the fallen strands of hair from her ponytail behind her ears, Brittany continues to look for that special play when she hears someone call out to her. Turning to the voice, she finds Santana leaning on the railing behind her.

“Want me to fix that for you?” She asks with a small smirk.

It takes a second for Brittany to realize that she’s talking about her messy ponytail before she’s jogging over to close the distance between them.

Santana’s decked out even more so than usual in school spirited accessories and her Cheerios uniform is as vibrant as ever, but what catches Brittany’s eye is the #12 drawn on Santana’s cheek in red and black marker. She swears that wasn’t there when she saw Santana before the game and it makes her heart melt.

Brittany knows many people have taken a liking to her, to the point where they wear her number to show support but it hits differently when Santana does it – especially since not many people know about them being a couple yet.

“You’re wearing my number,” Brittany points out as she turns her back so that Santana can reach her ponytail. She keeps her eyes trained on the field, hoping their defense doesn’t let Carmel score.

“I am,” Santana says as her fingers delicately pull the hair tie from Brittany’s hair and starts to comb through the strands, “You don’t know how many girls on the squad wanted to wear yours, I couldn’t have that.”

Brittany laughs, “Well I am pretty inspirational.”

“I guess,” Santana teases before getting to work on the braid, “How’s it going out there? It looks like you guys are losing steam. Not getting tired, are you?”

Brittany scoffs playfully, “We’re just getting started but I can see what you mean. Their offense isn’t making it easy for us. They’ve definitely watched film.”

Santana hums again as Brittany gets lost in thought to the feeling of Santana’s fingertips gently scratching at her scalp. She’s been so focused on the game and moving around that she hasn’t noticed how cold it is out. A December winter in Ohio is very different from the ones she’s used to in Florida, but she keeps her hands hidden in her hand warmer.

“We have to score once more before the half, but I think Carmel is starting to pick up on our routes,” Brittany says, “I have to do something different. It can’t be a sneak because I don’t think they’ll let me get away with it for a second time. I can’t risk getting picked off again either because that’s even worse, but what? What won’t they expect?”

“Well,” Santana sighs as her hands move further down Brittany’s hair, “I can’t say I know what most of that means but you got this. If anyone can make something happen, it’s you. It’s still early, maybe you’ll wear them out?”

“Or maybe they’ll just get stronger?” Brittany mumbles her worries.

“You can’t think like that,” Santana tells her as she finishes up and nudges Brittany around, “You’ve turned this team around and gotten them this far. You’re going all the way, babe, I can feel it. Besides, you guys are in way better shape than them; at least, I know you’re definitely in better shape. I can guarantee that one from personal experience.”

Brittany smiles back lovingly and almost laughs when Santana accompanies her compliment with a wink. She’s not used to being the one that needs the pep talk, but she’s glad Santana’s there to offer her one anyway. She didn’t realize how much she needed the reassurance.

It makes those three little words start to float up, but she pushes them away for now. She needs her focus to be on the game.

“Thank you,” Brittany says, “It really means a lot.”

Santana only shrugs although she looks just as smitten.

“And thanks for this too,” Brittany says as she glides over her newly braided hair, “Didn’t know you could French braid.”

“It’s one of my many talents,” Santana jokes, “Also one less thing you have to worry about. I’m sure you’ll figure out the football thing too. Maybe you could have one of the guys throw it to you instead or something? Carmel would never expect that.”

Brittany’s eyes light up, “Oh my God, you’re right.”

“What?”

Brittany gets to thinking out loud, “I’ve got Finn and even Sam. They both have pretty good arms. If I hand it off to one of them instead, I could totally slip through and get open.”

“Wait, seriously?” Santana chuckles disbelievingly “You’re really gonna try that?”

“Duh. It’s a good idea,” Brittany grins confidently, “God, I could just kiss you right n – ”

“Offense! To the field!” Coach yells out, “Where’s Pierce?”

“Shit. I gotta go,” Brittany says before quickly pulling on her helmet and giving Santana a wink, “Wish me luck!”

Santana only waves her pompoms in return as she watches Brittany jog off.

Back out on the field, Brittany gets her guys ready for the first snap. She’s going to try and get them into better field advantage because no way she’s going to attempt to run for 40 yards. She can’t risk getting tackled and potentially injuring herself so that’s where Puckerman comes in handy.

“East 32,” Brittany calls out to her sides; a running play, “East 32!”

She tracks the defense’s movements, keeping her eyes on the linebacker that’s been giving her a hard time all quarter. Thankfully Jackson and Ridley have been doing a great job of protecting her thus far, but all it takes is one wrong move to change that.

“Down!” She says and readies herself for the snap, “HUT!”

The ball is thrust into her hands and she’s quick to get a good hold of it before she’s passing it off to Puck. Brittany hits him square in the chest with it and he automatically wraps the ball in his arms, making this impenetrable cage, before he’s crashing into defenders. Brittany throws a block in order to offer a little more protection, but Puck is only able to go a few yards before he’s brought down.

It’s a clean hit, but someone on the Camels makes a snarky comment and the next thing Brittany’s knows is that Puck’s getting in their face. Matt tries his best to pull him away, but another one of Carmel’s guys shoves at Matt so now everyone’s starting to get scrappy.

“Back off! Get back!” Brittany yells at her guys as the refs start to push players apart, “Come on, guys! Back off!”

With the two teams having years and years of rivalry history under their belts, Brittany was prepared for the emotions to show. She figured it would’ve happened a lot sooner, but she’s grateful that it didn’t. She needs her guys focused on the game, not getting wrapped up in a fight.

“Come on, Puck,” Brittany coaxes as she gets her hand on the Running Back, “Don’t let them get into your head. You’re better than this.”

“That asshole keeps talking shit!” Puck snaps, “I’m getting sick of it.”

“Then shut him up with a play,” She warns him, “You getting caught up in a fight doesn’t help your team. It won’t mean anything if you’re ejected, will it?”

Puck quiets down, “No.”

“Okay, stay focused then,” Brittany says then pats him on the shoulder before gathering her guys for another play.

On their next play, she hands the ball off to Puck again and this time he’s able to break free of his defenders and gets a crucial first down. Now that they’re within good range to try Santana’s idea, Brittany has to call a time out to tell her team about it.

When she does, they all look at her like she’s crazy…at first.

“I like it,” Mike nods, “I think it’ll work. It’s kind of crazy, but they wouldn’t expect it. Plus they’ve been favoring the left so far too, it’ll be good to switch it up.”

“Exactly,” Brittany smirks and looks to the time remaining before half time, “We’re just shy of the two minute mark so if we can get another touchdown in and go for a two point conversion, I think we’ll feel a lot more comfortable in our lead.”

A lot of the guys like the sound of that.

“I’ll take the snap,” Finn offers, “Or hand off? Whatever you want to do, Cap.”

Brittany smiles apologetically, “Actually I was planning on using Sam for this one.”

Sam straightens up at the mention of his name, “Me?”

“Didn’t you want to try out for QB or something?” Brittany replies, “I could use someone with your agility. No offense, Hudson.”

Sam looks over to Finn, everyone does, but surprisingly Finn just nods proudly.

“Whatever it takes to win,” Finn says and gives Sam a pat on the shoulder, “Kill it, dude.”

Sam perks up, “Okay, what do I need to do?”

Brittany goes on to explain what she’s thinking despite Coach Beiste in her ear telling her to do something different. With all do respect to her, Brittany sees an opportunity to shake things up and she can’t play it safe with the play Coach wants her to run instead. She knows that there are recruiters in the crowd watching her and the other players and she’s got to stand out if she wants that scholarship.

She gives one glance over to the sidelines where Santana and the Cheerios anxiously await the next play. They’re all ruffling their pompoms as if they were beating drums but Santana’s hands don’t move quite as fast as everyone else’s, she’s too concerned about the game. Brittany gives her an encouraging nod though before turning back to focus.

When the ball is snapped, Sam grabs for the ball but it’s not a smooth hand off. Thankfully, he’s able to secure it in time to drop back and find Brittany crossing over the line of scrimmage. He hangs in the pocket for as long as he can so that Brittany can get into position but what she doesn’t anticipate is the Carmel Cornerback closing in on her.

It’s a jump ball and Brittany leaps into the air to catch it but as she tries to, the Cornerback makes a high tackle. Brittany’s helmet nearly flies off as she’s brought down hard on her elbow. As soon as she makes contact with the turf, she knows she’s going to get an earful from Coach Beiste.

The ref calls it an incomplete pass, but it could’ve easily been picked off by that defender if they weren’t careful which would’ve been even worse.

“Try again next time, Princess!” The Cornerback laughs in her face before the other defenders join him in celebrating.

She’s slow to get up while Jackson and Ridley rush over to push the defenders away from her. The refs are already calling out the penalty against Carmel for that high hit and giving the Titans a first down, but Brittany can’t enjoy it – her elbow’s bothering her even more as she tries to loosen it up.

“Get over here, Pierce!” Coach yells, “Hudson, you’re in!”

Finn looks warily between the two before getting his helmet on and into the game. Brittany does her best to put on a brave face but as she makes it to the sidelines and the trainer starts to fuss over her, she knows she’s messed up.

“What the hell were you thinking out there?” Coach demands, “You know who you’re playing against? You’re lucky they didn’t break your arm!”

“I’m sorry, Coach, I thought we could catch them off guard,” Brittany replies.

Coach Beiste just shakes her head and looks to the trainer, “How is it?”

“Just some bruising,” The trainer responds, “She’ll be fine.”

Brittany grits her teeth as the trainer wraps an ice pack around her elbow. The cold stings but not as much as Coach Beiste’s disappointment.

Coach hardens her stare, “Hudson will close out the half. You just…go sit over there and keep icing that elbow.”

“Yes Coach,” Brittany replies before making her way over to the bench.

She feels this annoying sting in the corner of her eyes and a little in her throat, but she swallows it back. She was the one who made the decision, she has to pay for the consequences. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less though.

Brittany drops the ice pack to examine her elbow for herself, noticing the redness but she can’t tell if its from the pack or the hit. All she can do is count her lucky ducks that it’s only bruising and not something worse.

“Hey B!” Santana calls out to her again from the other side of the fence. There’s this concerned look on her face as she asks, “You okay?”

Brittany turns and gives her a weak smile and a thumbs up. That doesn’t seem to satisfy Santana though and soon the Co-Captain is making her way around the fence to Brittany’s side.

“You know you can’t keep coming over here, Santana,” Brittany says as her girlfriend starts to look her over, “Coach Beiste is already super pissed at me for that play. I don’t need her pissed about you too.”

“Please,” Santana waves off, “You saw what happened the last time someone tried keeping me away from you while you were hurt?”

“Actually no,” Brittany smirks, “My eyes were closed.”

Santana gives her a look, “Well it wasn’t pretty.”

“I’m kind of surprised you didn’t try running onto the field that time,” Brittany jokes lightly.

“It didn’t look too bad,” Santana teases as she touches Brittany’s elbow.

“Ouch,” Brittany whines and Santana quickly withdraws her hand.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

When Brittany starts to grin, Santana swats her knee.

“Not funny,” Santana chastises before reaching for Brittany’s abandoned ice pack, “You need to keep this on there. It’ll reduce the swelling.”

“I know,” Brittany sighs, “It’s just cold, Doc.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

Brittany gives her a look and Santana gives it right back.

“Don’t be stubborn,” Santana tells her as she gently touches Brittany’s elbow, “Looks sore.”

“A little,” Brittany says softly, “But you know what would make me feel a lot better?”

“What?”

“A sweet lady kiss.”

Santana quirks her brow and tries not to laugh, “A what?”

“You heard me,” Brittany says and taps her lips, “Right here.”

Santana chuckles but she doesn’t make a move as she lowers her eyes to Brittany’s elbow, “You really should be more careful and rest this.”

Brittany’s smile falters at the way Santana evaded the request, “That’s what I’m doing.”

She doesn’t want to over think the topic change, but she can’t help but think of it as just that. They had been going so well for so long, Brittany didn’t think she’d have to experience Santana’s hesitance again.

Santana sighs, “I mean you should – ”

“I know what you meant,” Brittany answers, “Finn’s in for now but I’m finishing the game, Santana. I’ll rest it later. I’m not sitting out any longer than I need to.”

“But Britt – “

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

Santana freezes, her words quickly dying upon hearing Brittany’s question. Of all the progress they’ve made together, she didn’t think she’d see Santana back peddling once again.

“I – that’s not it,” Santana stammers as her eyes drift to the stands, “There’s just a lot of important people here – scouts and my parents and reporters – and a lot of cameras too.”

Brittany swallows back the lump in her throat and tries to shake off the hurt because that’s the excuse she wants to give? Brittany shakes her head, “Sure yeah. I get it. Appearances are important and what not.”

“Wait Britt,” Santana tries with a hand on Brittany’s knee, “That’s not it at all. I mean it is, but not…I’m not hiding this time, I promise.”

Brittany bites her bottom lip, trying to keep that sinking feeling away. She wants to believe her, but they’ve been out together in public before, even kissed, so what’s different about this time? If anything, Santana should care even less about the audience now after everything they’ve been through.

“I’m trying not feel hurt right now,” Brittany mumbles and it’s barely loud enough for Santana to hear.

“Baby,” Santana sighs in a tone that Brittany isn’t used to. It makes her feel soft and warm. Santana looks up at Brittany with her eyes pretty brown eyes, “I don’t mean to hurt you. I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to you too.”

Brittany frowns at that, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want them taking your moment from you,” Santana says, “I don’t want you to get overlooked because the focus is on us sharing a scandalous kiss or however they try to spin it. I rather the focus to be on you and the team and your inevitable win.”

Brittany stays quiet and Santana sighs.

“Maybe I’m being a little over protective here after what happened with me and Dani or dramatic or whatever but I know how this town works,” Santana adds solemnly, “They’ll take your moment like they took mine and I don’t want that for you. You’ve worked too hard for this, Britt.”

Brittany can’t find it in her to feel as hurt as before now that Santana’s explained her reasoning. She just stares back adoringly, “I think things are different this time around.”

“Are they? Just look over there,” Santana gestures to the fence where JBI and his camera friend are filming. Alongside him is another reporter from a sleezy Lima gossip magazine, “Fucking vultures. They already think they’re getting a good show.”

“But we aren’t doing anything?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll make something up.”

Santana flips them off and Brittany’s quick to put her hand down.

“What are you doing?” Brittany chastises, “You just said – “

“If you flip them off they can’t use the pictures,” Santana says, “I saw Kristen Stewart do it.”

Brittany frowns at her logic but doesn’t challenge it.

“Look, there are eyes and ears everywhere waiting for you to put on a show,” Santana tells her, “Let it be the right kind of show, okay? This is your night.”

Brittany begins to smile as lets Santana’s words sink in. Her heart begs Brittany to say those three little words that keep coming up, but her head speaks first.

“Yeah, okay. Tonight’s my night.”

“Exactly,” Santana replies then teases in a lighter tone, “You and I can make a scene later, once you win this thing.”

Brittany chuckles at that, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Santana tenderly squeezes Brittany’s knee as halftime is called, “I have to go put on a show of my own now. I’ll see you after.”

This time Brittany’s the one left watching as Santana jogs off to join her squad.

“We’ve got them right where we want them and you’re blowing it by not playing smart!” Coach yells at the squad in the locker room. Some of the players begin to show signs of exhaustion, but Coach’s booming voice grabs their attention, “Don’t give your lead away! You’re a better team than them. We know it, they know it so let’s play like it.”

Brittany nods to Coach’s words before she’s being rounded on.

“And you,” Coach shakes her head, “You have one of the best arms out there, kid. You’ve got scouts all over the country with their eye on you. Do you really want to blow all of that by being cocky?”

Brittany stiffens. She didn’t think that’s what she was being by taking a chance, but she knows better than to argue with her coach.

“You’ve got good instincts but think about your team,” Coach Beiste warns, “If you want to do some trick play like that, run it by me first and I’ll give you the okay on whether or not it should actually happen.”

“Yes Coach,” Brittany answers.

“As for the rest of you,” Beiste takes in a deep breath before cracking a proud smile, “As frustrating it is sometimes to watch you all play, you’re doing one hell of a job out there. We expected Carmel to bring the heat but we love playing with fire, don’t we?”

The Titans start to get rowdy at that and Coach’s smile widens.

“Keep at it and we will come out of this on top,” Beiste says, “Play hard, play smart, but most importantly have fun. This is your night, Titans, this is the legacy you’re leaving behind. Make it a good one!”

Brittany feels her chest swell with pride as she nods along to Beiste’s words.

“Alright, we’ve got a little time left so coaches talk to your groups,” Beiste motions for the secondary coaches over while she turns to Brittany, “And you, come talk to me about this trick play you tried pulling. Maybe I can help you iron out the kinks.”

Brittany’s eyes widen but she doesn’t question it and quickly gets to the drawing board.

After the Cheerios’ halftime performance, the Titans come out with guns blazing. Coach Beiste’s locker room speech had the entire team revved up once again. They were more determined than ever to finish out the game on top. Whatever it took, the Titans would do it just so that they could secure the Championship title.

Brittany felt a renewed sense of motivation as well. With Coach’s speech and Santana’s words keeping her focused on the game, she was unstoppable – even if her elbow was still a little tender. If Lima wanted a show, she was going to give them the best damn one they’d ever seen.

Apparently, Carmel had the same idea in mind.

Both teams played hard, both teams played smart, but only one could come out on top. The score had been tied at 49 – 49 for the most part and with just four minutes left in regulation – one of the teams needed to make a play or they’d head into overtime.

Brittany thrived on that kind of pressure. She loves the buzz of energy, the restlessness of the crowd, the determined looks on her teammates’ faces. This is what champions are made of, moments like this where she can really show all the doubters that she can hang with the best of them.

“Alright we’ll do bootleg right,” Brittany calls the play, “Let’s use up some of the clock. Once we score, we don’t want them to have any time to make a play. Okay? Get some yardage and get out of bounds.”

Her teammates nod before they all break to get into formation. Brittany takes her place too but first glances to the sidelines where she sees Santana cheering her on. Behind her is the entire hockey team and Brittany chuckles to herself when she sees they all look pretty invested in the game too.

“Down!” She calls out and her O-Line moves accordingly, “Down…HUT!”

The ball is snapped but the pocket never forms; Jackson and Ridley get overpowered almost instantly so Brittany has to scramble. She’s looking left, she’s looking right but no one’s open. She thinks about throwing it away, but with so little time left on the game clock, she can’t risk getting intercepted.

She has to tuck the ball in and run like hell.

Matt sees Brittany’s in trouble and tries to run along with her to offer some type of protection and with his help, Brittany’s able to cut the corner on her defender. She gets a few yards before she steps out of bounds.

As she slows herself down so she doesn’t collide into any of the photographers there, a Carmel defender gives her an unexpected shove. Brittany tries to soften her fall as she’s pushed into the bystanders she was trying so hard to avoid. She can hear the player trying to taunt her while the ref places the spot of the ball, but she doesn’t bite. Brittany’s teammates yell back at the Carmel defender who laid the late hit thought and question the ref’s lack of penalty.

“Yo Ref!” Matt calls out, “You awake or you’re just going to let them get away with that?”

“I’m saying!” Jackson adds, “How much they paying you?”

“Don’t guys,” Brittany says as she tries getting them to move on, “It’s alright. I’m good.”

Although Brittany agrees with them, the ref motions for the game to continue on. She can see Coach Beiste getting all red in the face at that, but Brittany can only get her guys into position once again.

With just minutes left on the clock, the Titans have to move fast and get out of bounds so they have the time to reset. If it gets to overtime then so be it, but Brittany would rather they wrap the game up now while they have the chance.

“Okay, let’s get in range first before we dazzle them,” Brittany says, “Blue 32 West. Okay? Blue 32 West.”

It’s a play action call so when the ball is snapped, Brittany fakes the hand off to Puck while Mike makes a run for the sideline. Along with Jackson, Puck offers more protection and secures the pocket long enough for Brittany to make a safe throw.

Mike brings it in virtually untouched and is able to get a few extra yards in before he’s tackled out of bounds. The clock stops but Brittany still pushes her team to hustle to their new line of scrimmage.

During the next quick huddle, Brittany tries to rally her guys. They’ve got to make a play now or at least get a new set of downs. They can’t turn the ball over at their current position, that would basically give the win to Carmel. They could try to get within field goal range and bring Kurt and special teams out for an extra 3 points?

But Brittany’s never liked doing the bare minimum to win a game.

What they need is something…unexpected.

“I want to try that trick play again,” Brittany mentions and everyone starts to disagree. She’s quick to quiet them down, “I know, I know. It didn’t work out too well the first time but that’s exactly why we should do it now. They won’t expect us to try it again. Coach worked it out with me during halftime, we just need to get to the 10 yard line.”

A few of the guys still look unsure though.

“Scared QBs don’t make plays,” Brittany tells them, “I’m not scared. Are you?”

There are mumbles of hell no and I ain’t scared.

“Okay then,” Brittany nods and holds out her fist, “Who’s with me?”

“I’m in,” Sam says as he puts his hand on top of hers.

Mike follows suit, “Me too.”

“Like I’ve always said…you’ve got balls, Pierce,” Puck chimes in, “I’m down.”

Everyone else joins and Brittany smiles at how they can all come together as one cohesive unit. They’ve grown so much since she first joined the team!

“Alright, let’s do this!” Brittany cheers.

The Titans run up to their new line of scrimmage with less than a minute left in the regulation, but before Brittany can call the next play, Carmel takes a time out.

Brittany straightens up as the ref blows his whistle to signal the time out.

“Figures,” Brittany sighs as she loosens her chin strap.

They had great momentum going for them, but Carmel’s time out throws them off a little. Everyone’s starting to get a little anxious with so little time left on the clock, but Brittany does her best to keep the Titans focused.

Meanwhile, the Camels look nervous as they glance at the Titans. It’s not too common that they have such a close game like this. They’ve been a well oiled machined for so long, stacking up wins for years but Brittany and the Titans have thrown them for a loop.

All Brittany can do is stare back determinedly.

“Look at them,” Puck jokes, “They’re scared as shit.”

“Should be,” Sam smirks, “They’re about to get their asses handed to them.”

At that, one defender – the one that laid the late hit on Brittany – looks over his shoulder at them and sneers.

“What the hell you looking at, Punk?” Puck challenges.

“Easy,” Brittany warns, “They’re just trying to throw you off. Let’s focus here. Everyone know their routes?”

She goes on to confirm that everyone knows what they’re meant to do for this next play. She feels confident about it this time, because she’s not going to let her team down twice in one night. It’s the last play of the game, the last play of her high school career. There’s no way she’s going to blow it.

“Okay this is it, guys,” Brittany tells her team, “This is what we’ve worked all season for, this moment right here. We know what to do, let’s show them. Let’s shut this game down already! Titans on me, Titans on three. One…two…three!”

Everyone puts their fists up and chants together, “Titans!”

The 30 second time out goes by quickly and soon everyone’s coming together again at the line of scrimmage. It looks like Carmel is going to blitz which would’ve stopped Brittany’s version of the trick play but not with Coach Beiste’s tweaks.

Still, Brittany stays focused. She can’t get too confident just yet. Anything can happen.

“Down!” She calls out before stomping her foot. Sam runs to her left while Puck stays in position on her right, “Hut…HUT!”

The ball is snapped and it’s kind of like a game of hot potato. First it’s in her hands then she smoothly hands it off to Puck. They split off in opposite directions while Puck keeps the ball tucked under his arm until he’s within reaching distance of Sam. The ball is then handed off for a third time as Sam makes a grab for it and quickly gets into a throwing stance.

The Camels are all sorts of confused and in that confusion, Brittany is able to slip through a gap in the defenders where Mike is drawing out his man. With all eyes mostly focused on Sam, Puck and Mike – no ones watching Brittany.

The quarterback runs as fast as she can for the endzone while Matt runs alongside her, offering protection from the Cornerback who is on her tail yet again. This time though, she’s too fast for him and when Sam launches the ball in her direction she’s wide open.

All she has to do now is make the catch.

For a moment, it feels like time stops and everyone goes quiet as the ball sails through the air in a perfect spiral. Brittany keeps her eye on it just like her dad taught her and runs like hell until she is positioned underneath of it.

But the ball is slightly over thrown so Brittany has to reach up high for it. At the last moment, she turns and jumps up, the tips of her cleats scrape the turf as she makes the catch. She hangs on for dear life as the final seconds tick away and game buzzer sounds. She does her best to secure the ball to her chest but the sudden change in momentum has her falling to the ground on her back.

But she lands with the ball still in her arms!

Her breath is caught in her throat but she quickly rolls to her side to find the nearest ref. She’s praying to anyone that’s listening that she has landed in bounds and in the endzone, because if not? That would’ve been the greatest play for nothing.

It’s the longest second in the world and she doesn’t begin to breathe again until she sees both of the ref’s arms shoot up.

“Touchdown!” The ref signals.

The crowd erupts in applause and soon Brittany’s being hoisted in the air by her teammates Santana’s got Coach Sylvester’s megaphone in hand, using it to cheer Brittany on. Even the Puck Heads are whooping and hollering for them but it’s hard for Brittany to hear any one thing. All she hears is the loud roar of the crowd, of her teammates, of the entire town of Lima celebrating the win.

On that cold December night, Brittany led the William McKinley High School Titans to their first Championship victory in over thirty years with a final score of 56 – 49.

A giant orange cooler of Gatorade is being dumped on Coach Beiste and Brittany’s being carried on the shoulders of her teammates while everyone cheers them on. The Titans were the underdogs and they put on a great show and came out on top.

Brittany’s nearly too stunned for words.

The guys eventually put her down in favor of celebrating with their friends and families and significant others who have begun to take to the field and Brittany finds a familiar sense of déjà vu as she watches on.

Just a few weeks ago, she was in this exact place – staring up at the stadium lights wishing that she could have what everyone else does. To love or be loved openly, to share this great moment with someone special just like everyone else. It’s hard not to feel envious because even though she’s surrounded by all of these people and she’s come so far, she’s still never felt so –

“Hey Pierce!”

Brittany’s heart skips a beat because she knows that voice. It’s one she didn’t expect to hear so close by but she turns anyway and finds Santana giving her this smug grin in the sea of people on the field.

It’s such a sense of relief and it gets even better because soon Santana’s jumping into her arms. Brittany surprises herself by how readily she catches her and hoists the girl up. Their smiles are big and bright and then Brittany’s being kissed so deeply and it just about takes her breath away again – so much so in fact that Brittany loses grip of her helmet and it falls forgotten at their feet.

It’s a kiss like that that makes it all worth it in the end. The battles they’ve faced on and off the field, together and on their own, it pales in comparison to this moment right here. Because in this moment, beneath the bright stadium lights, Brittany doesn’t feel so lost anymore.

In fact, she’s never felt so found.

When they pull away from each other seconds later, Brittany wears this pleased half-smirk and the look makes Santana let out a chuckle. Brittany’s head is swimming in the high of that kiss and the win and she’s still a little dazed but then a flash of a camera makes her quickly remember where they are and more importantly – who’s watching.

She lets down Santana gently as she takes a look around uneasily. Crowds have already started to gather as the two teams form lines to shake hands and congratulate each other, but in amongst the players and coaches and family and friends are the cameras. It makes Brittany feel suddenly protective as she pulls Santana a little closer to her, remembering Santana’s words from earlier.

“You know people are starting to stare, right?” Brittany mentions softly before looking to Santana, “Not that I’m complaining or anything, because I’ve always wanted to do that – especially with you and it was everything that I’ve ever dreamed of – but there are cameras pointed at us and you said earlier that...” Brittany loses track of her thoughts as she looks to the stands and sees Santana’s family alongside her own and her jaw just about drops, “Holy shit, Santana, your dad is over there and he does not look – “

“I love you,” Santana says all in one breath.

Brittany’s swivels back to Santana in an instant, “You…”

Did her ears deceive her? How hard did she fall on that last play? Oh my God, did she hit her head? Is she concussed now? Her lips move but no words come out. Maybe she really is concussed?

“Pierce!” Coach Beiste calls out to her.

Brittany’s lips part before she’s looking to her coach.

“I got someone I want to introduce you to,” Coach tells her as she gestures to a broad-shouldered man wearing an Ohio State cap.

Brittany nods, still just as speechless. She’s caught between her present and her future, but her feet don’t move. She wants to clarify what she heard Santana say. She wants to shout her response from the top stands of the bleachers but she’s so speechless.

“You should go,” Santana tells her, “You don’t want to keep them waiting.”

Brittany swallows hard and nods. She doesn’t want Santana to get the wrong idea, but so much is happening all at once and it’s like her voice has stopped working.

“I’ve got to go deal with something too,” Santana adds and looks towards the stands where Hector and Maribel await her, “I don’t think I can run forever so...”

Brittany frowns at her cryptic words and it adds to the list of things she wants to talk about, but Santana’s already saying her goodbyes.

As she turns to walk away, something kickstarts in Brittany and she reaches out to catch Santana by the hand.

“Wait,” Brittany stammers, thankful that she has suddenly found her voice again, “I – I’ll see you at Puck’s later, right?”

Santana glances at her dad and shrugs, “If I’m not grounded for the rest of my life.”

“Pierce!” Coach calls out to her again.

“Coming!” Brittany answers and looks apologetically back at Santana, “I’m sorry I – “

“It’s okay. Go,” Santana gives her hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go, “Great game, B. I always knew you could do it.”

Brittany can only return the weak smile before they’re being drawn to go their separate ways.

#its been forever and a day I know...#Lost in the Lights #Brittana #brittana fanfiction #QB!Britt

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linniewritesficz · 5 years ago

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Tooth and Claw // M. Y. G.

Hybrid Yoongi x Fem. Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Violence, blood, basically all the injuries that come with fighting and shit, death (but not a main character so no worries), I guess you could call it animal abuse since he’s part animal, reader almost gets assaulted

Summary: Predatory animal hybrids are rare and illegal in your society, but that doesn’t stop some people from rearranging the DNA of orphans and then selling them on the black market. Min Yoongi was one of those orphans who was “adopted” as a baby and turned into the monster he believes himself to be now. Because of his panther DNA, he is an incredible fighter and is feared in the underground fighting rinks his owner forces him to participate in. He has given up on living a normal, comfortable life free of violence and constant running from authorities that want to get rid of his very existence. That is until Yoongi meets you.

Author’s Note: I’m supposed to be finishing the first chapter of my Prince Au but,,,,,,,,,,,,,,I had this idea and had to get it out. It’s barely edited and mostly written at some ungodly hours of the morning, but I loved the idea so I ran with it. Its on the long side so grab a snack! Um also, the ending is a little up in the air so if you want a part 2 let me know :) Enjoy! xx Linnie

Bright fluorescent lights blind Yoongi for a split second before he hears the deep growl of the grizzly bear hybrid that was placed in the pit with him. The familiar smell of sweat, alcohol, and blood coupled with the fear of the young hybrid in front of him fills Yoongi's senses. He could tell that he was no older than maybe early 20s. This was his first fight, and with Yoongi’s track record, it would most certainly be his last.

“Place your bets, gentlemen! The panther or the grizzly!” the man with the megaphone announces to the crowd of men who were most certainly not gentlemen in any translation of the word.

“Win this fight, kitty, and you might get something good to eat tonight!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the slurred words of his owner. They were obviously lies, fully knowing that he would be given the bare minimum of calories needed for survival tonight and locked in his too-small cage.

“Didya hear me kitty? Useless bastard!” This was his owner’s philosophy: an angry and hungry hybrid is a winning hybrid.

Before Yoongi has the chance to react like he wants to, a scantily clad lynx hybrid is kicked across the dirt floor holding a sign announcing the first round was beginning. The men in the stands above them begin cheering and yelling obscene statements towards the female hybrid and she scurries away to climb out of the pit, much in the same way his opponent would be carried out of dead in a matter of minutes.

Yoongi readies himself, lowering his center of gravity and extending his claws. Although he was usually smaller than his opponents, he possessed superior agility and speed, leading to his gruesome victories.

Yoongi notices almost immediately how unsteady his opponent is on his feet. He is tall and broad, but top-heavy and will be easy to take down with a strategic pounce on his back, forcing him to fall on his stomach. After that, it would be an easy win. Yoongi would use his claws or his sharp teeth to rip into his opponent’s neck and instantly causing him to bleed profusely. It would kill him in approximately 10 minutes and another win would be under Yoongi’s belt.

“Your winning streak is over, kitty” the grizzly hybrid spits and bares his sharp teeth at the smaller man.

“You have a lot of confidence for someone who’s about to die,” Yoongi says calmly but narrowing his eyes while his sleek black tail flicks angrily around his ankles.

After the horn sounds, it doesn’t take long for the younger fighter to move towards Yoongi, and for Yoongi to quickly run and slide in between his opponent’s legs. He easily swiped at his hamstrings, slicing through the fabric of his pants and into the thick muscle of his leg. The grizzly howled in pain and spun around clumsily to face Yoongi, bleeding and limping severely. Yoongi glanced up to where his owner was leaning over the railing of the pit, him receiving the signal to keep going. He nods and prepares to deliver another blow to his opponent.

In the process of the exchange between Yoongi and his owner, the grizzly manages to swipe at Yoongi’s face narrowly missing his eyes. Yoongi dodges a second blow, raking his claws across his opponent’s arm. Another painful, but ultimately minor injury. He knows that the men watching him fight are here to watch a show, and although this was his first fight with a grizzly bear hybrid, he was proving to be an easy opponent. However, he gives them what they want until his owner gives him the signal that it is time for the fight to end.

After nearly 10 minutes of playing around with the grizzly hybrid, Yoongi is panting and wincing in pain from a painful swipe to the shoulder the younger opponent manages to get in. However, the other is in much worse shape. Both legs are bleeding profusely while claw and teeth marks litter his neck, arms, and back. It is here that Yoongi looks up at his owner who nods.

Yoongi’s ears flatten against his skull and every hair on his body stands at attention as his eyes narrow.

“I’m done playing games with you. It’s high time we end this.”

Yoongi’s ears flatten against his skull and every hair on his body bristles in preparation. Before his opponent has a chance to turn around at the sound of his voice, Yoongi is running at full speed towards him. He leaps onto the back of the grizzly and sinks his teeth into his neck, meeting tough muscle as he tries to rip it from the body. In a rage, the hybrid begins to try to shake Yoongi off of him and successfully manages to do so, causing Yoongi to be thrown at full force against the wall of the pit.

Although mildly disorientated, Yoongi launches himself off of the wall and on to the shoulders of the grizzly hybrid and flips off of them before grabbing onto the fencing that covers the makeshift ceiling.

The grizzly roars and grips his neck before looking around frantically. “Where the fuck did you go you fucking coward??”

“Up here, asshat.”

Looking down at the grizzly, Yoongi grins wickedly before dropping down on top of him and sinking his teeth into his fleshy neck once again. It is this time that he is taken to the ground fully and is knocked unconscious. As the crowd cheers above him, Yoongi manages to finally rip open the grizzly hybrid’s neck, delivering the fatal blow. Another victory.

In an instant, it seems, gunshots ring through the room as people yell “Cops!” and begin to scatter. Yoongi has little time to react as he rips himself away from the dying hybrid in front of him and begins to climb out of the pit to hopefully make it to his owner before a bullet does. It takes two, albeit painful, leaps to make it to the top of the pit and onto the sticky ground of the room.

“Where the fuck is my panther?” the drunken words of his owner rip through the chaos and Yoongi’s ears perk up at the sound.

Although the piece of shit he calls home is the last place he wants to be, there really is no other choice unless he decides to run. Yoongi begins to move towards the sound but only stops due to the sight of his owner desperately trying to fight off two police officers. Yoongi stiffens. These men want him dead. His very existence is a threat to them and if given the chance, they would not hesitate to shoot him on the spot. So Yoongi runs, faster than he’s ever run before. And he doesn’t look back.

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The alleyways are almost as dirty as the fighting pits, offering a small sense of familiarity to Yoongi as he tries his best to tend to his own wounds. His shoulder is throbbing but the best he can do is not move it as he licks at his knuckles. Knowing that he did not get far from the fighting pits, Yoongi is on edge and is constantly looking over his shoulder as he walks down the dark alleys knowing full well he could be found at any minute.

Eventually, he settles himself beside a large dumpster and breathes a sigh of relief into the night. I did it, he thinks to himself, I’m finally out of that hell hole.

New scents and sounds flood Yoongi’s system as he attempts to fall asleep, but he knows it will not come easily as his heart is still beating rapidly with his panther instincts still on high alert. Every scurry of a mouse or shout from a bar in this distance makes Yoongi’s eyes snap open. He knows he needs to get farther away from the fighting pits for him to be safer.

It is not until about three in the morning when Yoongi’s shoulder stops bleeding and his eyes become heavier with sleep. He leans his head against the dumpster and begins to fall asleep. Suddenly, a sharp distress cry wakes him again and he jumps to his feet, ready to flee. There is no way the police could catch him if he leaves now, but Yoongi stops in his tracks as a new scent fills him.

This scent, coupled with a strong smell of fear and whiskey, is sweet and unlike anything Yoongi has ever experienced in his life. His tale flicks around his ankles, but not angrily, rather indicating his curiosity and need to know more about whatever person or object is producing that scent.

“C’mere baby. Just wanna taste is all.”

“Get the fuck off of me! Fuck! Help!”

From where he’s standing, Yoongi can see a burly man hovering over a smaller figure. Although the two are dimly light by a flickering street light, he can clearly see that the larger figure is incredibly drunk and is not listening to the words coming from the second person. Yoongi can tell that neither one of these people are hybrids and that the second person is a female, the one producing the scent that has peaked his interest.

Yoongi can feel an intense push to run over to the two and pounce on the man that is seemingly attempting to assault the girl.

No, you’re hurt you fucking idiot. Do you want to die on your first night of freedom?

Fighting within himself, Yoongi lets out a deep growl, one that was different than his usual growl that would be used to intimidate his opponents in the fighting pits. This one come from a different place. Not one of self defense, but of an overwhelming need to protect the girl from any and all harm. It scares him, but he pushes the fear back before running at full speed towards the two, giving into his primal instincts.

In an instant, he pins down the large man and snarls in his face.

“She said to get the fuck off of her. If I ever see you touch her again I will personally rip every limb from your body. GOT IT?”

Underneath him, the drunk man trembles and lets out a shaky breath.

“F-fine! Ok! I won’t touch your bitch!”

Standing up, Yoongi watches as the drunk man runs off as best he can towards another bar, presumably to find another woman to harass into the night. It is at this moment that Yoongi is filled with the scent once again and he turns around to find you backing away from him slowly.

He opens his mouth but as he does, his vision blurs and a sharp pain runs from where his shoulder wound is through to his entire body. Yoongi stumbles, no longer the fierce and agile predator but instead a very injured man in need of serious medical attention. As his eyes roll into the back of his head, he doesn’t notice small but strong arms catching him before he falls and slips from consciousness.

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“I didn’t know what else to do Tae! He saved me from some drunk asshole and then passed out. I couldn’t just leave a hybr- Yes I know it’s dangerous. Yes thank you for your insight.... Look if you’re not gonna help me I’ll call Namjoo- Thank you.”

You hang up the phone and sigh as you rub your temples.

“Stupid stupid stupid! You fucking brought home a goddamn hybrid knowing full well you have no business handling a hybrid. You fucking dumbass!”

“Who’s the dumbass?”

Whipping around, you find the man, no hybrid, that saved you the night before standing in your living room instead of passed out in your room like he was ten minutes ago. He looks pale and scruffy, his black hair completely disheveled and matted in some places. You notice how he clutches his right shoulder and how the ripped shirt is stained with dried and fresh blood. There is a look of fear and curiosity in his bright amber eyes that make you cautious to approach him.

“I-I have a friend on the way.. He’s in veterinary school and can help with your wounds,” you look down at your feet before looking back up at the hybrid in front of you. “Thank you for saving me last night.”

He doesn’t acknowledge your words, and instead looks around the room to inspect every object and corner. He is scared and in an unfamiliar environment, you assume this has to be normal behavior, right?

“Where am I?” his voice is scratchy and low, like he hasn’t used it much in a while.

“Um well, you passed out after attacking that drunk guy so I dragged you to my apartment.”

“Why do you smell like that?”

Your eyes snap up to meet his. “Pardon?”

“You smell different. And it’s not because you’re a human. Why?” the hybrid narrows his eyes at you and takes a step forward.

In response, you step backward and gasp as your back hits the countertop. As the predator takes another step, your attention is shifted to the turning of your doorknob.

Taehyung takes one step into the apartment before he is met with a sharp hiss and growl coming from the hybrid that now is aiming his aggression towards him. He jumps in fear and slams the door shut behind him.

“Shit (Y/N) you didn’t tell me he’s a predator!! You said he was a house cat!!”

“He is a cat!”

“Call me a house cat again and I’ll rip your arm off.” the hybrid spits in anger.

“Well then what are you??”

“I’m a fucking panther. Are you dense? Who are you?”

Taehyung cautiously sets his bag down and slowly holds his hands out for the hybrid to sniff. “My name is Kim Taehyung. I’m just here to help you, buddy. I’m going to school to specialize in hybrids, ok? My friend, (Y/N) here says you saved her. Now she wants to save you, but you gotta trust us.”

A moment passes before the hybrid speaks again, this time his voice is small. “You’re not gonna hurt me, are you?”

His words make your heart ache for him. This hybrid was obviously abused and made to think all humans would treat him like whoever had owned him in the past.

“We’re not gonna hurt you. Can you start by telling us your name and where you’re from?”

“Yoongi, Min Yoongi. And I don’t know where I’m from. The only time I was ever let out of the house was when my owner would take me to the fighting pits.”

“That must be why you’re so injured,” Taehyung says, mostly to himself. He turns to you. “(Y/N), can we use your bedroom? I’m gonna need some space to work.”

Hours pass by before you see Taehyung exit your bedroom, removing a pair of surgical gloves and running a hand through his hair.

“You owe me. Big time.”

“I’ll buy you dinner from that fancy French restaurant you like so much! He didn’t hurt you, right?”

Taehyung shakes his head, “No, but he did threaten me with my life multiple times. You’re making me rethink my dream job, but it’s fine.”

You reach out to hug your friend and he accepts, falling into your arms and sighing. While you want to comfort your friend, the only thing you can think of right now are Yoongi’s earlier comment about your scent. Thoughts like that don’t cross your mind, but due to the hybrid being obviously taken aback by your smell it is something you cannot shake.

“Hey Tae, you would know better than me. Are hybrids sensitive to smells? Like specific smells that a person or another hybrid can give off?”

Taehyung releases you and looks into your eyes. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

You clear your throat and look down at your shuffling feet. “The hybr- I mean Yoongi said earlier that I smelled different. And not human different.”

He cocks his head to the side, like he always does when he’s deep in thought. “Well, some animal breeds mate for life and it is often based off of pheromones the two are producing, like wolves and swans. But hybrids are generally not bred like that,” Tae pauses for a moment, “The only way it could happen is if a male hybrid’s DNA is modified specifically to suppress his animalistic need to mate with multiple females.”

Your eyes glance over to your bedroom door, the only thing separating you from the panther hybrid that is sleeping soundly. There was no way whoever bred Yoongi to be who he is was that advanced in DNA modification. That doesn’t make sense.... Doesn’t it?

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theshatteredrose · 3 years ago

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Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily (Chapter 35) - Original Fiction

AN: Ooh, boy, this was a long chapter to write. Hope you enjoy reading!

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Chapter 35:

Night had fallen quickly, plunging their surroundings into pitch black not long after they had returned to camp. Eishirou was once again issued with the task of sitting down and letting the Elites prepare camp, where they would stay for the night. Although feeling somewhat guilty that he wasn’t physically useful, he had other work that needed to be done.

The campfire was the first thing to be built, so he was sat on some thick padding on the ground next to the fire.

The illumination of the campfire would prove to be less of a beacon for ShadowDwellers than an artificial lantern. Besides, there was something alluring about a campfire; the sound, the smell, the dancing, flickering light.

It reminded Eishirou of the recordings he had viewed. Which helped since he was in the middle of typing out a report for said recordings.

His writings wouldn’t be considered professional to many, but since it was to reach Jacob, it didn’t have to be perfect. He just needed to jot down what he had witnessed as frankly as possible. Even if his musings were somewhat jumbled.

Although reluctant to do so, he also explained the moments of their first ShadowDweller encounter and then near-miss with a rockslide. Those pieces of information were sure to worry anyone who read the report, especially Jacob, but Eishirou knew it wasn’t something he could just flatly deny.

But he did add the small consolation of a possible new area to explore sometime in the future.

Zayne suddenly dropping down onto the mat next to him, lounging causally on his side, pulled Eishirou from his work.

“Did you take your painkiller?” Zayne asked as he rested his chin in the palm of his hand and leaned on his elbow.

Eishirou nodded. “Yep. Needed to get this report done before the drowsiness kicks in.”

Thankfully, he was almost done with the wordy part of his report, as jumbled as that was. All he needed to do next was to attach the photos he had taken.

Speaking of photos.

“Before I send this; can you see it?” Eishirou questioned as he turned his tablet toward Zayne.

“Hm?” Zayne glanced at it idly to begin with before he perked up and reached with his hand to take hold of the tablet so that he could get a closer look. “Is that the ShadowDweller we encountered today?”

Eishirou felt a rush of relief. “Ah, so it did work.”

He had been worried that it would just disappear from existence or something.

Intrigued by Zayne’s response, Rinka wandered over to him with a wholly curious expression. “Can I see?”

As Eishirou retrieved the tablet from Zayne to present to Rinka, Leon wandered over, also.

“I’m interested, too,” he admitted and leaned over Rinka’s shoulder (more like simply tilted his head down since he was so tall) to look at the tablet, too. A flicker of surprise appeared on his face, matched in time with Rinka’s eyes widening, before he appeared intrigued. “Hmm. Looks bigger from this photo.”

Did it? From Eishirou’s point of view, the photo couldn’t properly convey how big the ShadowDweller truly was in person.

“Isn’t it virtually impossible for a photo to be taken of a ShadowDweller?”

Eishirou winced at Cadmus’s sudden but actually quite understandable question. “W-well, yeah.”

As he retrieved the tablet from Rinka, he risked a glance over in the veteran Elite’s direction. Only to find a pair of sharp eyes fearlessly and pointedly looking directly at him.

“How did you manage it?”

“I just…took the photo,” Eishirou replied as he turned his head away abruptly and busied himself attaching photos to his report. “I mean, it showed up on the map, so I figured that it had enough outward mana to take a photo of it. Of course, it could just be sheer luck.”

Cadmus didn’t verbally respond. Though, Eishirou certainly felt his eyes on him…

His question also caused a tense silence to fall over the group. Rinka shuffled away, moving to sit next to Ernesta on the other side of the campfire. Leon shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned to pace the perimeter of their camp.

“So, this means it’s the first photo of a ShadowDweller, right?” Zayne suddenly commented, breaking the silence. “It’ll be sure to make you famous.”

Zayne’s tone was light with a hint of teasing, which prompted Eishirou to relax. “I hope not. But I do hope it’ll be of use for future ShadowDweller Research.”

Just before Eishirou moved to finally send off his report, he took a moment to gaze at the ShadowDweller photo again. Was it really the only photo of a ShadowDweller in existence? More importantly, how and why was he able to take photo?

Hm…The X marking he saw didn’t show up on the photo?

Well, that was something he would have to work on later. His first priority was to learn how to activate the Red Lily. Before those Star Rebellion group got their hands on it.

“There,” Eishirou sighed. “Hopefully that went through.”

“Was that information sent to Professor Chryses?” Ernesta asked.

Eishirou set his tablet aside. “Not directly, but it should get to him. It’s easier for me to send information through to Communications. Misaki will then send it to the appropriate people.”

Leon paused in his pacing and tilted his head to the side. “Misaki?”

“Oh, Misaki is going to be our contact for this mission,” Eishirou explained, leaning back on his hands. “I feel kinda bad since he's going to be working overtime for this.”

“Ah,” Leon uttered simply in understanding. He paused for a moment before adding, “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” Eishirou replied with a smile. “He has a habit of being parental at times. I keep telling him to take medical classes as I’m sure he would be a great medic.”

Leon turned back to his pacing, those his movements were more for the need to move rather than out of caution. “He definitely seems the type not liking to see anyone hurt.”

Eishirou immediately nodded his head. “Definitely.”

He soon found himself musing that possibility. “Hm, I wonder if that’s the reason why he’s reluctant to become a medic. It’s a medic’s job to deal with the injured. He might be better off staying a chronicler and communicator. He’s also the type to take an attack in someone else’s place.”

“Tch.”

A sound, like an annoyed scoff, was heard over the crackling of the fire. It was a terse sound, though soft, also. He wasn’t sure if that sound was just one of the many noises of nature around them. Or if someone had responded to his ramblings.

It was probably just a croak of a frog or something.

Though…Ernesta was side-eying Tatsu with a tight frown on her lips.

Another sound was heard, but one that was immediately recognisable. It was his tablet alerting him. He immediately picked up the tablet and tapped at the screen to activate. Thankfully, it was a message from Misaki.

Oh, good, information got through. He hoped Jacob would be thrilled with the information he found. Even though it wasn’t exactly what he was sent to find.

Another message soon came through, once again from Misaki. Though, it was on the behalf of Neriah.

“Oh hey, Leon?” Eishirou called out, immediately gaining the Elite’s attention. “I just got a message from Neriah regarding Mikiel. His status has been steadily improving. His brainwaves are becoming stable. He believes that he may awaken in a few days.”

Leon perked his head up, an expression of relief on his face. “Really?”

“Hm?” Cadmus uttered. “That is the Elite you rescued, yes?”

“Yes,” Ernesta immediately answered, turning her head in the veteran’s direction to gaze at him with a somewhat placid expression. “We found his badge and it is thanks to Eishirou that we had found him in time.”

Cadmus arched an eyebrow at the team leader. Eishirou was about to explain that it was Team 3 who had found and rescued Mikiel. Eishirou had just been the medic at the time. But another buzzing from his tablet prompted him to immediately turn his attention back to it.

It was another message from Misaki. The content of the message, however, didn’t appear pleasant. If Misaki beginning the message with “debated whether or not to give you this while on a mission” was any indication.

And after reading the message, he immediately understood why.

It was information about the missing Elites of Flutterlight Forest. And the news wasn’t good. Two bodies had been found. The document didn’t go into great detail about what…state the bodies were found it. But the information it did provide was no less disturbing.

They were…robbed of their belongings? Badges and holsters? That…meant they weren’t the victims of ShadowDwellers, did it? A ShadowDweller had no use for such items.

He tried to supress a wince as he read through the information, but clearly, he did a poor job at it as Zayne immediately nudged him with his arm.

“What’s wrong?”

“There's...news about a two of the missing Elites,” Eishirou admitted reluctantly.

“From your wince, the news isn't good?”

Eishirou shook his head and sighed. He couldn’t keep the information away from the others. It was disturbing, something that needed to be known. And that would, no doubt, increase the Elites’ caution and protection.

“No. They were found. Not alive, though.”

A tense silence immediately fell over the campsite.

“…Any names?” Leon asked softly.

Eishirou shook his head again, granting the silently distraught Elite a sympathetic look. “No. Not yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Leon replied simply, his voice purposely steady. However, he turned his back toward the campfire and stared out into the pitch darkness of the forest around them.

Everyone fell into silence once more.

Eishirou looked sadly at Leon’s back before he uttered a sigh. He set his tablet aside upon his bag and pulled his legs to his chest and rested his chin atop of his knees. He was certain that Zayne and the others were worried about future encounters with ShadowDwellers, those creatures being the first to come to mind upon learning the defeat of a pair of Elites.

But the information Eishirou had read indicated that something else might be response. Something wholly more human. Of course, he had no way knowing that human interference was involved. Maybe a ShadowDweller was responsible and someone opportunistic looted the bodies for their own gain.

Whatever the reason, he was grateful that Zayne was beside him.

“You know,” Tatsu unexpectedly began, “there’s a theory doing the rounds stating that the presence of Passives may be the reason for increased ShadowDweller attacks.”

Eishirou abruptly lifted his chin from his knees and whipped his head in Tatsu’s direction.

That…he had heard something along the lines of it. High populations of Passives, with their inert mana deposits, were believed to be a draw point for ShadowDwellers. It hadn’t been confirmed. But it hadn’t been debunked, either.

Do…do Elites believe that, though?

Zayne slowly pushed himself upright. “Is that so?” he asked slowly, his tone terse. “Are you saying that it was Misaki's fault he got injured when he was a kid? By a ShadowDweller, no less? While you, an Elite, was there and should have done something about it?”

From the other side of the camp, Tatsu snapped his head sharply in Zayne’s direction. “What did you just say?” he hissed, surprising and honestly startling Eishirou greatly.

Zayne, however, scoffed and pushed himself to his feet. “Do I need to repeat myself? Misaki has a scar on his forehead because of a ShadowDweller attack. An attack you were present for. Does it bother you that a weak, fragile Passive protected your worthless ass instead? Is that it?”

Tatsu’s green eyes seemed to…flash with anger. “That isn’t what happened. Who told you that?”

“Who do you think? It may surprise you that Eishirou and Misaki are friends.”

Tatsu turned his head sharply in Eishirou’s direction. “Eishirou…”

The way he practically growled his name with barely suppressed rage caused Eishirou to wince. And feel the need to, well…hide away from him. That anger…he wouldn’t actually attempt to hurt him. Would he?

However, Zayne suddenly moved to stand in front of Eishirou. Protecting him. Again. “Eyes on me, asshole.”

“Why are you so obsessed with him?” Tatsu snapped. “He's just a Passive!”

“Eishirou is not just a Passive,” Zayne retorted just as sharply. “He's a medic, a researcher, a Chronicler. He enjoys reading up ancient myths and legends. He plays a violin, for fuck's sake. He's not just a Passive.”

Eishirou’s felt his eyes widen as he stared up at Zayne. His back straight, his shoulders tense, his legs spread apart in a power stance. He meant it. He meant everything he said. He wasn’t just standing up for him – he was protecting him. Not only because he needed it.

But because, in his mind, he deserved it.

Zayne…

“But you,” Zayne continued. “You’re nothing but an Elite. And that’s all you will ever be.”

That…

He was talking about himself, too, wasn’t he?

“That’s enough,” Cadmus interjected with a purely reprimanding tone, physically moving to stand between the two. “Zayne, an Elite is meant to remain professional at all times.”

“Since when does being professional mean you have to be a cold, heartless bastard?” Zayne retorted.

And it appeared to be a question that Cadmus couldn’t answer immediately.

“Passives don't belong on the battlefield,” Tatsu quickly spat, unable to hold himself back from doing so.

Again, Zayne snapped his attention toward his teammate. “You’re sounding like a fucking parrot, repeating the same shit over and over again. Sure, Passives shouldn’t be on the battlefield, which is why there are fucking Elites, you dumbass! Passives don't fight! They don't have to! They do literally everything else!”

“Only because of Elites. Passives wouldn’t exist without Elites!”

“Elites wouldn’t survive without Passives!

Tatsu barked out a sharp, almost disturbing laugh. “Do you actually believe that shit?”

Zayne’s expression unexpectedly darkened. “I bet you can't even cook a cup of instant noodles without fucking it up. Elites are useless outside the battlefield. And you know it. And that's why you're such an asshole; you've been told that Elites are superior. That we are all powerful and important. But we're not. We fight. We fight and protect. And that's fucking it. We can't have hobbies. We can't have interests. We can't even have friends. We're soldiers, not human beings. And that's fucking infuriating.”

Eishirou…knew those things. But it hurt to hear. It hurt because no one disputed that. No one attempted to correct him.

“Ok, that’s enough,” Cadmus once again tried to intervene.

But Zayne was having none of it. His frustrations, his anger, his…self-loathing was too much. He had been holding back for so long.

He couldn’t hold it back any more.

“No, you shut and listen for once in your god-damn life,” Zayne said, utterly scathingly toward his father, visibly startling the other man. “I'm not just an Elite. I'm not just a prodigy. I'm not just the son to an Elite. There is more to me than being an Elite. I know there is. But I don't know what. I want to find out. I want to have hobbies. I want to have interests. I want there to be more to life than god-damn ShadowDwellers. Why is that so fucking wrong to you?”

Silence. A tense silence. The kind of tension one could just about physically see fell over the campsite once more.

Zayne stood off against his father, the two just staring at each other with unreadable expressions. But Eishirou could tell what Zayne had said struck a chord with his father. His cold silence, the purposely stoic expression…the crease at the corners of his eyes.

He felt something.

And Zayne…He had…been holding that in for a long time, hadn’t he? Years’ worth of pain and resentment.

“…This is not something that should be discussed here,” Cadmus finally stated, attempting to dismiss any possible future outburst. “Now let’s-”

“I want to as well.”

Rinka’s soft voice interrupting the Veteran Elite caused everyone to turn in the young woman’s direction. Standing next to the campfire, head lowered with her chin toward her chest and hair curtaining over her eyes, Rinka stood stock still.

With her hands curled into tight fists by her sides.

“Rinka?” Ernesta questioned; her voice filled with obvious concern.

“I want...I want to learn how to draw rabbits,” Rinka began slowly. “I want to learn how to make flower crowns. And go looking for seashells on the beach. I want to play volleyball and go swimming like other girls. I want to listen to music and learn how to dance. I want to be normal.”

Oh…

They…they really weren’t allowed to be anything else but Elites?

Her shoulders began to tremble. “I don’t want to be an Elite. I want to be a Passive!”

Rinka’s raised voice full of pain startled everyone within the camp. So sharp, so sorrowful was her voice, it immediately made Eishirou’s chest ache with pure empathy.

“Rinka…”

Eishirou pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the young Elite-no, young woman. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and crouched down in front of her so that he could look before her curtain of hair to the young, pained youth beneath.

“You don’t need to be a Passive to do those things. You’re human. You’re alive. And that’s a good enough reason,” he said gently as he reached up with his hand to brush aside her hair. “Listen, when we get back to the academy, we’ll go speak with Lyvia. She’ll be happy to help you. And be your friend.”

“R-really?” Rinka murmured as she looked at him with tears in her eyes.

Eishirou nodded and presented her with the handkerchief. “So, don’t cry.”

Rinka fumbled with the handkerchief and used it to hastily rubbed at her eyes. “S-sorry,” she murmured quietly.

When Ernesta moved to stand on Rinka’s other side and, too, lowered her tall frame to crouch down beside her, Eishirou dutifully stood and took a step back. Far from perturbed by Rinka’s outburst, Ernesta appeared sympathetic and understanding. And not remotely surprised.

Of course, he couldn’t be entirely sure as Ernesta’s expressions had always been either placid or passively aggressive. But he swore that she held a sense of gratitude in her eyes when she looked over at him.

Once more, silence reigned over the campsite. Only the crackling fire and the distant sound of frogs could be heart.

They were reacting to their own mortality, weren’t they?

There were reportedly more Passives than Elites, which was why they were so highly regarded. And yet, a reason why there were so few was because it was rare for an Elite to live pass the age of thirty. They were expected to marry young and have children early, to have an Elite child and to continue their lineage. If one did live beyond the age of thirty, they graduate to the title of Veteran Elite.

To live such a short life fighting and doing nothing else…

Being an Elite wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

It made him feel guilty that he was so afraid of Elites.

Eishirou uttered a sigh and pushed himself to his feet. He fidgeted with his hands in front of him as he turned to look into the brightly burning campfire. Something within the dancing flames and the pops and crackles was calming.

Yet, reflective, too.

“To be honest I, too, saw Elites as someone different from me,” Eishirou began quietly. “Someone beyond my league. And someone who I couldn’t possibly engage in conversation with as I expect them to treat me with nothing but disdain. And there were times, in the past, that turned out to be true.”

Haughty, aggressive, arrogant. There was no excuse for their attitudes. And he would never excuse such behaviour. But what he had heard today, he now knew of their reasons. It didn’t excuse their actions, but Eishirou was no longer going to allow himself to make grand, sweeping generalisations of a whole group of people because of a few bad incidents.

“But I understand now. And I’m sorry if I treated Elites differently or shied away from them, from you, because of a perceived intimidation. You’re human. Just like me.”

He used the accompanying silence to walk around the campfire to gather up his bag and tablet. There was still an undeniable amount of tension in the air, but the brewing situation seemed to have been diffused for now.

“It is late,” Ernesta stated. “Eishirou, you should get some sleep. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow.”

Yeah. His painkillers were starting to kick in. He felt exhausted.

“Right,” Eishirou replied simply to Ernesta’s suggestion before he turned and tilted his head questioningly in Zayne’s direction. “Zayne?”

Not bothering to answer verbally, Zayne simply nodded and moved to join Eishirou as he slipped the strap of his bag onto his shoulder. He then slipped an arm around Eishirou’s upper back and proceeded to escort him toward one of the set-up tents, ignoring the stares he was no doubt getting from his father and teammate.

As the flap of the tent fell behind them, blocking the view outside, Zayne suddenly pulled Eishirou into his arms in a tight hug. Eishirou, however, was only half startled by the sudden embrace. In all honesty, after hearing Zayne bare his soul to his father, he had wanted to walk straight up to Zayne and comfort him in some way.

“You ok?” he asked as he rested his cheek against Zayne’s chest, his head nestled beneath the taller man’s chin.

“I’m sorry about that,” Zayne said quietly.

Eishirou raised his hands to slip around Zayne and rest against his back. “You’ve been holding that in for a while, haven’t you?”

“…Yeah,” Zayne admitted around a sigh. “And he just pisses me off.”

Eishirou gave a small chuckle in spite of himself. He wasn’t sure if Zayne was talking about his father, or about Tatsu. The both of them had been sniping at him all day, so it could be either one.

He was glad, however, that Zayne had gotten all of that off of his chest. To hold so much resentment for such a long time must have been incredibly painful.

Eishirou subconsciously tightened his arms around Zayne. He didn’t want him to suffer like that again.

“Zayne, listen; I’m grateful to have met you. For allowing me to do the things I do. Not many Passives get to venture beyond the walls of the city and experience new environments. Places like this. It can be dangerous, I know. But I also know that I am safe with you, no matter what. Others don’t get to see what I see. And I only get to experience these things thanks to you. So, thank you.”

Zayne didn’t respond verbally, at first. However, his arms did tighten around him. One arm wounding tightly against the small of his back, pulling his body closer to his. He then slipped his fingers of his other hand through his hair. With his fingers gentle carding through Eishirou’s hair, Zayne lowered his head to whisper something into his ear.

“Eishirou…I need to tell you something.”

The way Zayne’s warm breath hit the side of his neck caused Eishirou to unwittingly shiver. And a strange, fluttering feeling to appear in the pit of his stomach. “Hm?”

“It’s-” The sound of someone sneezing loudly outside interrupted whatever Zayne was about to say. In annoyance, he sharply turned his head to look over his shoulder toward the entrance of their tent. A motion that caused Eishirou to feel a great sense of disappointment from…something.

“Never mind,” Zayne muttered as he turned back to glance down at Eishirou, whom he still held tightly in his arms. “It can wait.”

“Are you sure?”

Zayne smiled warmly, gently down at him. “Yeah. We’ll talk when we return home. For now, get some sleep.”

“Ok,” Eishirou returned.

Zayne then loosened his arms around him. And Eishirou took a step back and over toward the cot occupying one side of the tent.

He dropped his bag to the ground next to his bed and felt a frown tug at his lips. There was that feeling of disappointment again. The warmth of Zayne’s arms was consuming yet comforting. And to be pulled from them, even by his own accord, felt wrong in some way.

He didn’t have the state of mind to ponder that, however. The painkillers had well and truly kicked in now. And the only reason he hadn’t fallen asleep was that he was standing upright. He was certain that as soon as his head hit the pillow, he would be asleep.

So, without another word, he slipped onto the cot and laid down onto his side.

Just before he fell asleep, he felt something brush against his cheek. It was a hand. Zayne’s hand. He was sure of it. And it made him smile.

… … … … …

A gentle, but urgent hand touching the side of his face awoke Eishirou from his sleep. His eyes fluttered open, though it was a difficult thing to do. All he wanted was to close his eyes and fall back to sleep.

“Eishirou, wake up.”

But the urgency in Zayne’s voice forced him to push through the need to sleep and to open his eyes. It was still night. The tent was dark, saved for the subtle glow of the campfire through the nylon shelter.

“Hm? Wha-?”

Zayne suddenly pressed the pad of his thumb against Eishirou’s lips to silence him. “Shh. Grab your bag. We need to sneak out. We’ve been followed.”

F-followed?

#original fiction #scifi fantasy #mystery #Adventure #young adult #relic keepers: awakening of the red lily

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caffeinated-chaos-bean · 3 years ago

Text

Mid-2021 Blog Update

Hey guys.

So... It’s been a while. Quite a while... and I want to lay some things out as to why I’ve been gone and the blog has practically been dead in the water for half a year, if not for a whole year.

I want you to know that what I’m going to say will be in heavy detail. I’m comfortable speaking on it, and what information doesn’t just include me will be using either public details that I know I can share or will be put in a short and sweet manner.

This is your trigger warning: If you need to click off or scroll past due to the mention of extremely bad mental health, toxic relationships and households, the mention of depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, please do so now.

. . .

First off, I’ve lessened the amount of time I’ve been online due to my mental health. I was put on antidepressants as well as told to take anti-anxiety gummies in November and will be weaned off of those starting this October. A lot of my family and relationship drama on top of the world practically shutting down and going into chaos thanks to COVID-19 just took a major toll on me. With so much on my shoulders, stress from living with said things on my shoulders, unsupportive family members, and an emotionally distant partner, I was at one of the lowest points in the life. I’d never had to be on mood-related medication in my life until last November. I’d always been able to handle what was thrown at me, but mid- to late-2020 was what knocked me down that low for the first time in my life. Suicidal thoughts came and went (they weren’t often, only when I couldn’t bottle my emotions up any longer but didn’t have a way to express them either), but even when they did, I knew that it was just in my head. I never once chose to act on them, because to me, that is not a way to solve a problem or escape your inner demons. All it does it put your personal suffering onto those around you -- your friends, family, and those who cared about you even when you don’t see it -- and it doesn’t do anyone any good. When my doctor asked me about suicide, that’s the very explanation I gave her. Yes, they happened, but I’d never act on them; it’s not a way out and it puts your pain onto others and only worsens the situation for the long-term.

Aside from that, though... I move on to other personal reasons for my absence that helped trigger what was mentioned above. Mid-August of 2019, my then fiancé's mother was murdered by two 17yr old boys of whom she and their family knew. Going off the information that was made public, one boy had mixed meth with marijuana prior to the killing. He claimed that my fiancé’s mother mouthed off and made a derogatory comment about his deceased mother, thus sparking the incident. While he claims to have only stabbed her once, the autopsy report shows that her head/face and upper torso were “hacked, slashed, and chopped” repeatedly with “various sharp, bladed objects”. Not only did they murder her, the two individuals also set the grass around her body on fire along with her home. When we found out about this having happened, I had no idea how bad it would have turned my relationship upside-down. My now ex-fiancé didn’t come from a great childhood, there was abuse and CPS, among other things. But he had managed and was a good person. He could make me laugh and tear up at his jokes, sang beautifully, and did everything to make those around him happy. When he lost his mom, it broke him. It shattered his very being, because not only did he know the two who caused it to happen, he also was unable to reconcile and make amends with his mother for what he went through as a child. He was robbed of being able to forgive and be on good terms with her, and it broke him. He stopped communicating with family, he took bereavement after being pulled from work by family the day it was confirmed to be his mother only to to fired 3 months down the line when he tried to go back (fuck Walmart for that btw), and was slowly becoming a hypochondriac. He stopped talking to me, he would cry in his sleep, and grief made him lash out as was expected. But as the days dragged on, his motivation and care towards finding a new job dwindled. He and my mother would fight endlessly and I was caught in the middle of it, as we all were in one household. There were times in which I would keep my phone on my leg and record for my own personal documentation should I need it due to how bad my own mother would belittle me, belittle my ex behind his back, and just scream and go off. When I’d turn to my ex for comfort, he wasn’t much help due to his own deteriorating mental health. He took to discord, specifically the Vampire the Masquerade community, as his escape from reality. He eventually would hardly talk to me at all, show no compassion, and at times I tried to speak with him about getting a new job or suggesting part-time ones that I felt would be easy and as stress-free as possible for him, I would be shooed away without a word; if I tried to further my attempt to have the conversation, he eventually got an attitude and would just say “Bye!” over and over again while shooing with his hand to get me to leave. There were many days where I’d get off work and sit in the bathroom for an hour and cry because of my frustration and how I felt stuck between two people I cared about deeply (ie. my ex and my mother).

My ex has since moved out and no longer lived with us. He and I are no longer together, and he has cut off all communication to me along with his family. He isn’t living in California anymore, really. He met up with discord friends and is in another state. That’s the last I heard from him. That’s the last his family heard. He doesn’t talk to us or attempt to reach out or respond when his family reaches out. I still very much care about him and want him to get better, but if he has to do so by being away from everyone, then so be it.

While I was letting - or shutting out, rather - the emotions I was feeling once he officially moved out, I relapsed with my anxiety tick; with my trichotillomania. I have a good number of smaller, thinned out spots in my hair from unconsciously pulling out strands of hair when my emotions didn’t know how to regulate. I’m still fighting to get this under control, as I do still catch myself doing it and so does my mother. It currently is not as bad as when my ex first moved out and I had to adjust back into sleeping alone and without someone next to me, but I do still pull. I am looking into trying to get my sister to order me a HabbitAware bracelet for me this Christmas in order to help get my tick back under control. I know its something I will live with forever and go in and out of doing, as there is no cure or medication to curb trichotillomania, but its something to help me be more aware of how often I do pull and to train it to no longer be a muscle memory response.

Most recently, I’ve had to stop taking melatonin. I’ve had bouts of insomnia since my ex left, and eventually I took enough melatonin to not only build an immunity to it but also a slight dependence. I was taking more than I should have been, and I noticed the signs of it and have stopped taking melatonin altogether. Due to this, I have switched to hempseed oil gummies. I take 2 before bed and they have helped wonderfully. But, due to how easy it was for me to become dependent on melatonin, I do plan to take brief breaks from the gummies to avoid a similar situation. I also do not plan on seeking an insomnia medication due to the same reasons. I knew what I was doing was wrong and I knew i was becoming addicted, and due to this I do not wish to risk it happening with a prescription sleep medication. I will deal with my bouts of insomnia as they come.

I also am conquering my insecurities towards others knowing I am a fan of Michael Jackson; a moonwalker. In elementary school (5th grade, 2009), I went through a heavy obsessive phase when he passed. I’d never heard of him, and when I listened to his music that firs time I was instantly hooked. I was ridiculed at school after I performed “Thriller” during a talent show; I had classmates going as far as saying that I must want him to kidnap and r*pe me if I enjoyed his music so much. I didn’t understand the gravity of those comments back then the way that I do now that I’m 23, but I still knew to an extent that what they were saying was in now way a good thing. I shut out his music from mid-6th grade all the way until this year. I hadn’t listened to a single song aside from hearing “Thriller” on the radio during October. For my birthday this year, I had a friend take me out of town and get away for a day. The entire time, she surprised me by playing hours of his music when in the car with her. It has since reopened that connection to his music and I’ve been listening to his songs with a fresh take, with the mind of an adult who can comprehend his words and understand finally what he’s saying for each song. As such, I’ve become more comfortable with others knowing I’m a moonwalker. You can have your opininos of the man, you can choose to believe the tabloids and junk media or make your own conclusions after assessing the details and documents of his life, but I will enjoy the same freedom of opinion.

I know this is getting pretty long, but I wanted to fill those who still might be checking up on this blog for any sort of update or spec of life coming from it in on what’s practically killed the blogs for a good chunk of time.

I do plan to slowly start doing stuff again after Halloween. I have a video made that I plan to post for Halloween and I look forward to letting Kikumi and the others be open for asks again. Until then, may the wind guide you all. I hope everyone can have a safe and wonderful rest of August. I will see you in October.

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chonkychornes · 5 years ago

Text

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

AN: Hi all! Here’s my idea for a Holiday ON shot featuring a sweet Bucky and what I hope is a gender-neutral reader. My first attempt at total fluff. I hope I hit the mark. If you like it, please like and reblog. Thank you to @quant-um-fizzx for all her help and support this year, and Pandora, who stays away from Tumblr, but still reads my shit and helps me with all the things!! (All mistakes are my own) Happy Holidays, dear ones! I hope you’re all finding peace on this day.

Summary: Bucky and Reader meet up on the way home for Christmas. Will they both get their Christmas wish?

Words: 6591

“Attention passengers of American Airlines Flight 2135: Baggage is now arriving on carousel four.”

“Okay, where the hell is my bag?” You mutter to yourself as you reposition your purse across your chest and duck around a family with a double-wide stroller. Spotting the carousel you need, you move to it determinedly, but frown when you see a flight number over yours and no bags circling the platform.

Grabbing your phone out of your bag, you see a missed call and a couple of new text messages.

I'm stuck in training. - Steve

I’m sorry. I can send a car for you. - Steve

You pull up his contact number and laugh as he apologizes as he answers, “Steve, I’ll be fine. I’ll call an Uber or just get a cab. It's no big deal.”

“I feel so bad, I promised to meet you.”

“Shit happens. I’m still waiting on my bag anyway, so I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.”

As you drop your phone back into your bag you hear the annoying buzzer for the carousel and feel the push of the crowd as everyone moves forward to try to find their bag.

You deliberately take a step back and move away from the crowd. You have time and you’d rather wait and not be crushed or hit some small kid with your suitcase because they’re standing too close to the conveyor belt.

You see someone else on the other side seems to have the same idea as you lean against a pillar out of the way. It’s not until this person is almost directly in front of you that you realize who it is.

“Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh?’ He grins down at you and you can’t help but laugh as you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze him quickly.

“What the hell are you doing here, Bucky?” You pull back and take in the penetrating blue of his eyes, the crinkle around them, and the soft smile on his lips.

“It’s Christmas! Steve would have had my ass if I wasn’t back in time,” he brushes a hand through his hair and you notice how short it is now.

No more manly buns for this one.

“Where have you been?” You nod vaguely out into the terminal and he smiles as he leans on the pillar next to you.

“Ireland; Kerry,” he ducks his head a little and you know why. Ireland had always been your dream destination.

“Was it green and beautiful? Did you catch a leprechaun?” Nudging him playfully in the ribs with his elbow brings back that soft smile.

“I’ll show you the pictures.”

The exchange is easy and natural. He still makes your stomach flip and you still make him laugh.

“That’s me,” he says as he pushes off the pillar and grabs his old beat-up duffle, slings it over his shoulder and resumes his place next to you.

“Now, you’re going to let me guess which one is yours, right?” You laugh and nod.

The wait is even longer, but he’s promised his car with the remote start and heated seats currently sitting in long term parking, so you agree.

“It’s the ugliest one, right? You always picked the worst patterns.”

“They’re easy to spot!” You’re a little defensive because everyone always teased you for this.

But when that neon orange paisley print comes around the conveyor belt, you have to bite your lip from laughing out loud at his incredulous expression.

“Did you find that in the seventies?” he grabs it and nods towards the door as you take your bag from him.

The car is not only warm and running when you get to it, but it’s also almost too hot and you shrug out of your coat.

“Thanks for the ride,” buckling yourself in and settling into the seat, you send him a genuine smile.

“Like I’d let you take a cab,” he says as he pulls up to pay for parking and soon you’re on the turnpike and headed to the compound.

You’re both quiet and as he navigates through the late-night holiday traffic, you get caught up in the lights of the city.

“You awake over there?”

“Huh? I was looking at the city lights,” you shift to look at him. “I’m sorry, did you say something.”

His hand twitches on the shifter and it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you.

“I was wondering if you were hungry. Everyone, except maybe Steve will be asleep by the time we get there and I frankly do not like it when Nat wakes up angry,” the car glides over closer to an exit. “Do you wanna stop somewhere and eat?”

“Sure, wherever.”

He pulls off into a small metro area and spots a Denny’s about two miles from the highway. Once you’re inside and seated in the back, you realize you might be the last customers in the restaurant.

After the waitress unenthusiastically takes your order and leaves you alone in the booth. As you rearrange the jelly holder, Bucky stares at you until you finally look stop fidgeting and look at him.

“So, how’s … everything?” he asks when you sit back and fold your hands into your lap.

The grimace crosses your face before you can stop it. It had been so easy at the airport, casual, but this feels forced and you don’t want this. Nothing had ever been difficult between the two of you before.

“Things are good, of course, they are.” You shrug and offer a smile, “Moving to DC was a good choice for me. I like the work that I do and I’m happy with the results.”

He bristles a little at the mention of your work but doesn’t bat an eye at the mention of your move. The two of you had discussed it, at length, when the opportunity had come up; neither of you wanted the move, but you also couldn’t deny that it was a good choice for you.

When the waitress comes back with your country fried steak and eggs and his bacon cheeseburger and fries you both take a few minutes to situate yourself. Chewing replaces the awkward conversation and you’re grateful for the time being.

“You still enjoying the life of a superhero?” The question is obviously a surprise to Bucky as he chokes down the giant bite he just took.

“That’s the designation, but it doesn’t make it true,” he smirks and pushes his plate towards you. Sighing, you set your silverware aside and swap plates with him.

“Just like old times, right?” You laugh lightly as you pick up the remainder of his burger and take a bite and moan. “Oh, god that’s good.”

“The job s’okay,” he shrugs as he shovels some scrambled eggs onto his fork. “I still get to travel and I don’t have to take anyone with me anymore, so that’s a plus.”

“Everything works out for a reason, then?” Locking eyes with him, you polish off the last of his fries and smile with bulging cheeks.

“I think some of our friends might disagree with you on that, but sure; everything works out for a reason.”

You both fight over the check but in the end, you let him pay. Back in the car you stretch and yawn before reaching for the radio, “Can I?”

“Sure, doll.”

You land on some local station playing holiday music and you hum along until you feel your eyes start to droop.

“I’m glad I ran into you, Buck,” you rub a hand over his forearm and let it linger there. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here, but I brought you a present.” A lazy grin crosses your face when his face lights up.

“Well, you gotta come home for Christmas, right?” He nudges your arm away and reaches over to rub the back of your neck, “Of course, I got you something too.”

Sighing into his touch, you wish every interaction with him could be like this; so easy, so real.

Sometime later, you wake to Bucky gently shaking you, “We’re home, doll. I’ll get your bag.”

After you two are let in by Friday, you both stop at the fork in the hallway that leads to both wings of the private quarters.

"Nat cleaned up my old room," you provide as it seems Bucky was going to invite you to his room.

"Oh, that makes sense." He rolls your bag towards you and throws you a smile. "See ya later, doll."

"Night, Buck."

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

The next morning starts with Steve waking you after eight, which has to be a record for him, but it was nice to have a cup of coffee and catch up a little with him before facing everyone else.

"How'd you get home, anyway?"

You sit up a little straighter, "I figured you would have spoken to him by now," you shake your head at his curious look. "I ran into Bucky at the airport."

"What is it weird?"

Rolling your eyes you set your cup down and shrug, “Nothing has ever been ‘weird’ between me and Bucky. Intense, hot, heavy, real?” You tick it all off on your fingers as Steve smirks, “We just never worked right.”

He snorts and stares at you incredulously, “You’re kidding, right?” He forward and claps you on the shoulder, “You and Bucky are like Westley and Buttercup.”

He stands up and moves to the door, “Have you thought any more about my offer?”

“Yeah, I still don’t have an answer for you,” you lean back against the couch cushions and smile. “Apparently we’ll be getting some new desk jockeys come January and I would want to make sure the transition goes smoothly.”

“Maria Hill doesn’t retire every day,” his hands are on his hips and give off his fatherly vibe. “You’ll really think about it? You could be back here with us all the time, and you’d get to call the shots.”

“For the most part,” you add with a wink.

“Bingo.” He opens the door, “Let’s go make the horde breakfast.”

After the cast of characters join the two of you for breakfast and take over the clean up, the day is filled with baking cookies with Wanda and Morgan and pulling out the decorations for the tree.

The tree that Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Tony are going to chop down.

“Where are you going to find a pine or fir small enough to fit inside?” You ask as the men don their winter gear and debate whether an ax is necessary. “Why don’t you just drive into town and buy a tree?”

Silence descends on the large common room and four heads swivel in your direction.

“Is it something I said?” you ask with a grin.

“Doll, this is the best way to acquire a tree.” Bucky is as serious about this as he has ever been about anything.

“It’s the dumbest way to go about it, for sure.” He stalks towards you and you stand up straighter.

“Do you think I should stay inside? I could stay here and decorate cookies with you,” he sends a wink to Morgan who has snuck up next to you and is tugging on your hand.

“I don’t know, what do you think, kid?” Hoisting her up onto your hip she taps her lip with her finger and pretends to think.

“Booky, you should stay and use sprinkles with me.” She nods so sagely, you believe she has all the answers to life’s questions.

“Alright guys, you heard the little lady: I’m staying.” He slides the leather coat off and tosses it to Sam who rolls his eyes, but hangs it back up. “Don’t die.”

The three of you walk back into the kitchen as the guys leave and as soon as they’re gone you finally ask, “What happens if they come back empty-handed?”

“They won’t,” Bucky says with a grimace and you don’t want to know what that really means. “But Pepper already bought a tree. It’s over in the warehouse, you know, just in case.”

Sprinkles, frosting, flour, and eggshells cover almost every surface in the kitchen and your back and feet are killing you.

Pepper finally whisked Morgan off for a nap and before you can even think about starting the cleanup, a cup of coffee is being shoved into your hands and you’re being shooed away from the epicenter and told to “take a load off” on a bar stool that sits at the island.

The groan is quiet, but still present as you sit and it serves as another reminder that you weren’t quite cut out for the life of a superhero; the life of an Avenger.

You weren’t enhanced and you hadn’t been trained since childhood, you had just been good, great even. They had seen something in you, taken a chance; gratefully it had led to the job you had now and the good work you were doing in DC.

But you never could keep up with any of them; couldn’t keep up with him.

“You look awful serious over there, doll.” Bucky is closing the dishwasher and setting it. “You alright?”

“Just thinking about … you.” It’s honest, if not a little gratuitous. You think about Bucky a lot for someone that couldn’t figure out how to make it work between the two of you.

“Oh, remembering the good times?” He’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, muscle and metal rippling and gleaming as he wipes down the counters.

“Thinking about how I wasn’t cut out for this,” you vaguely gesture around the room. “I did all I could, after ‘The Snappening’ and after Thanos was defeated and everyone came back, to be an Avenger, but my talents are better served elsewhere. Helping people in different ways.”

“Plus, it pays to have a friend on that side of the line,” he says with a slight grunt.

Bucky never quite got over the fact that you went to work for Everett Ross when everyone came back. Resources were needed; facilities, food, water … you name it, you found it and helped to distribute it.

You were doing good work that you were proud of.

Even if you had to work for an insufferable jerk.

“Not all of us are cut out for this lifestyle,” He pulls you from your thoughts as he leans on the clean counter across from you.

“You thinking of hanging up the suit?” The surprise is evident in your voice and you feel a weird flutter in your gut.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs and grabs your coffee mug and drains the last of it. “Sometimes I think I could handle being a desk jockey.” He refills it and doctors it up just the way you like and passes it back to you.

“You’d hate it.”

“Would I? Quiet days getting work done and feeling satisfied with it,” he’s leaning on the counter again and smiles. “I guess the grass is always greener, right?”

“Sure, but I don’t leave work every day happy. Sometimes I’m so frustrated because I’m not getting the answers I want or I’m not getting them fast enough.” You drink deep from the cup before pushing it back to him.

“I went to DC to talk about a job opening,” he drops the information so casually that it doesn’t register at first.

“Wait, my DC? What job?”

“What, like you own it?” You both laugh as Sam and Steve come stumbling into the room laughing, breathless, and red-cheeked.

“We found a tree,” Sam tells you with a pointed look. “It’s way too big to bring inside, but Tony is bound and determined to decorate it out on the lawn.”

“I’ll track down everyone, I think they’re watching movies.” Shaking your head you stand up and whip off your apron and look over at Bucky, “Text Pepper. I don’t think Santa will leave Morgan’s presents outside.”

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

Somehow you got paired up with Tony and Pepper to trim the “indoor” tree as it was referred to. Tony had brought out a bunch of old tools and spare parts and decorated the giant tree outside but got bored when he realized that everyone was inside staying warm.

“So, who is trying to convince you to come back?” Tony asks as he untangles the third string of lights. You shoot him a glance and strategically place another bauble on a branch.

“Everyone. Well, with the exception of Bucky, Pepper, and yourself,” you sigh knowing exactly where this is headed. “I’ve had several lengthy discussions with Maria about this.”

“There’s no one we’d rather work with.” He’s so matter of fact in his statement that you’re taken aback for a moment. It isn’t often that Tony is so genuine, without any hint of sarcasm. “Don’t you miss us?”

Walking around the tree looking for large holes, you snort. “I miss you all. But I call, I email.”

“You missed Morgan’s birthday.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, Tony.” Pepper admonishes from the other side of the tree and even though you can’t see her, you smile in her direction.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you did, in fact, miss it,” Tony repeats and you finally stop in front of him with your arms crossed.

“I wasn’t even settled and if I’m not mistaken, a certain group of superheroes had just inadvertently taken out a clean water reservoir that I need to need to attend to.”

“Fair enough,” Tony hands you one end of the lights and you begin to weave it into the tree. “You do realize that if you came to work here, you could help us avoid that.”

“That’s a cheap shot, even for you.” You stick your tongue out at him and tug at the lights in his hands. “For the record, I am seriously considering it.”

“Mom, she stuck her tongue out at me!” He complains to Pepper who laughs and walks away to change the record from Sinatra to Bing Crosby and White Christmas.

“Play nice you two.’

After a few minutes and another string of lights, you finally ask the question you need to know the answer to.

“Do you know what job Bucky went to DC to look at?” Tony looks up at you with something akin to fascination on his face.

“Has he really not talked to you about it? I just figured that was the reason-” he trails off when the record skips terribly and he jumps up to fix it.

Dinner is easy enough with gallons of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches to feed the literal army assembled. As per tradition at the compound, everyone gets to open one present on Christmas eve, which is always new pajamas; and everyone gets them from a secret Santa, so they’re all hideous in a spectacular way.

There are dancing llamas, hanging sloths, crazy reindeer and snowman. Footless, two-piece sets, onesies, and even some butt flaps. Hot cocoa, egg nog, and nightcaps are passed around as everyone settles down to watch “White Christmas”.

Sometime after Bing and Danny lip sync to “Sisters”, you meander out into the hallway and towards the large front windows to look at the softly falling snow.

Taking a seat on the stairs and drawing your knees up under your chin, you reflect on the past two years. Everyone came back and the greatest physical threat to Earth was defeated. You were able to hug and share your love with people you thought you would never see again.

You left.

The rewarding aspect of your job was almost to self-satisfying. You could say that you were helping to end hunger, lowering poverty levels. The work you helped with brought desperately needed medical treatments, education, and supplies to areas that need it most.

It looked great on a resume and sounded great a corporate mingles.

You liked it because you weren’t a self-serving asshole.

It was white bread and stale to boot.

But there was still a part of you that missed being even somewhat a part of the action; you missed being around and hearing about the stories. You missed being called for an assignment, even if everyone figured out that you weren’t cut out for it.

“Why couldn’t I do both?” The thought only just now manifested itself to you and how you hadn’t thought of it three months ago when Maria Hill called to offer you first dibs at her position with the Avengers, doesn’t even make sense.

“What are you doing out here?” Bucky’s voice is quiet when he pulls you out of your thoughts and plans.

“It was getting to be a little too much in there, I just need some space.” When you look up at him, you grin when you see his onesie designed to look like The Grinch wearing a Santa suit.

He’s holding two mugs and tries to pass one off to you.

“I can’t drink any more coffee or cocoa,” you whine and shake your head.

“I figured.” He says and pushes the mug into your hands, “It’s a hot toddy. Something to help you sleep.”

Taking a tentative sip you smile when you feel the familiar, smokey burn from the whiskey followed by the smooth honey. It’s sweet, but that’s how you like it. You scoot over on the step and pat the space next to you.

Bucky somehow manages to take up all the room without crowding you; that’s how he’s always been. When you rest your head on his shoulder, you feel him press a kiss to your hair.

“Is it weird being here with me?” It’s the question that you’ve been dying to ask. Everything has always been easy and simple between you two, even when you just stopped being you two.

“Why would it be weird?”

You sigh and sit up. That was enough of an answer right there if you ever heard one.

“This was my Christmas wish, doll.” You look over your shoulder to the man with the bright blue eyes and sweet smile. “I wanted you here again, even if it was just for the holidays.”

Without thinking you push yourself into his arms and wrap your arms around his neck. He chuckles as he rubs your back and pulls you closer. When you finally pull away you can see the laugh still in his smile and the longing in his eyes.

It’s been so long.

“You know, I used to get so excited whenever I heard you were coming to Wakanda for research,” Bucky tells you with a duck of his head as if he’s embarrassed to confess this to you. “The first time I ever walked into the city there was with you.”

Bucky had always given Shuri and her team all the credit for helping get back to himself; but between the two of you, he made sure you knew just how much you helped him grow.

“I may have made a few extra trips over there after we started to get close,” you concede. “I was still doing my job, but there was so much more to it then.”

“Then everything happened and then we got you all back. Steve went back for Natasha and they figured how to save Tony,” the memory of all the triumphs makes you a little misty-eyed. “Then one night there you were, knocking on my door.”

“I just wanted to talk,” he says with a laugh.

You had talked, about everything and nothing for hours that night. That one night turned into a year of quiet dinners, movie nights, and slow dancing in your room.

But in all that time, there was never any serious discussion about what you two were doing; you could deal with that and you certainly weren’t trying to initiate that talk. Everything was easy peasy, lemon squeezy between you two.

No definite plans, no routines, and nothing to catch you off guard.

Until the offer from Ross came and you knew that this was what you were truly meant to be doing. At least, you thought so two years ago; and when you sat down with Bucky to discuss it with him, he agreed.

“It sounds perfect for you, doll. You should take it if you want to.”

Hindsight had afforded you the opportunity to see that you two often said that to each other, “If you want to.”, or some variation. Not once did either one of you tell the other exactly how you felt, whether it was positive or not!

That’s why everything was so easy between you two all the time; you just always agreed with each other and nothing ever got done or decided.

“I wish we had stayed in better touch after you left,” Bucky’s comment pulls you from your thoughts. Here, the perfect opportunity was presenting itself to you.

“Why didn’t you? I know I had my reasons for not being better about it, but why didn’t you?” You’re trying desperately to keep the desperation out of your voice, but now that you’re asking, you need to know.

He hesitates, “I actually thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

You stare at him for what feels like a full minute before he continues, “This job was a huge step and such a great opportunity for you and I … I didn’t want to be a distraction. I just wanted you to be happy and if you weren’t happy here, with me, then I should just leave you be.”

“I was happy here with you,” you pace in front of him and smile sadly. “I was so unhappy for the first six months or so that I was in DC.”

Bucky grabs your hand and makes you stop in front of him, “Why didn’t you keep in touch with me? You said you had your reasons.”

“It sounds so stupid, but I thought you didn’t care where I was; here or there, that it just didn’t matter to you.” You can feel the tears well in your eyes, “I thought you didn’t want me, so I just left you alone.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” he tugs on your hand and you stumble towards him. “I always want you. Since the first time I met you across the globe to when I saw you last night at the airport and even right now.”

His warm, muscular hand cups your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s testing and slow and when you melt into him, awkward angle on the stairs and all, he opens his mouth to you and it’s like you’ve never had fresh air before. You drink in every bit of him, trying desperately to absorb his very essence and clinging to the hope of what this one kiss could mean for you both.

“You know, you both have perfectly good rooms you could put to use,” you both pull away sheepishly and look at Steve who has his arms crossed over his broad chest in his candy cane striped long johns.

“The Stark’s are headed out.” Steve turns and returns to the common room.

“C’mon doll, let’s go say goodbye to the kid.”

After hugs and kisses are passed all around you search for Bucky in the small crowd of your friends. Everyone seems to have dispersed and you remember the pile of unwrapped presents in your room and decide that you’ve had enough excitement for one night and head to your room to handle the gifts.

You spend the next hour or so methodically wrapping gifts and watching “Holiday Inn” and thinking about your future. There are two voices in your head, one telling you to stay in DC and one telling you to return to New York; you’re not at all sure which voice is supposed to be the devil or the angel.

You think again to how you could both, at least until a suitable replacement was found for you; and wouldn’t that make everyone happy?

You didn’t give a shit if it made everyone happy. You wanted to be happy, you deserved to be happy.

You wanted to be happy with Bucky.

After Christmas, you decide, you’ll call Maria Hill. Skype her with Tony and Steve, who undoubtedly will be on your side. Tony can convince Ross and then it’s a done deal.

Eyeing the present you had already wrapped for him when an idea came to you that caused you to spring to your feet and grab your coat and slide into your boots. You’d need some help with this and if this wasn’t the time for Captain America, you didn’t know what was.

Quietly creeping down the halls to Steve’s room feels insanely dumb at two in the morning. Calling or texting him would have been faster and simpler, but this was a spur of the moment thing.

When you reach his door and knock softly it takes a few minutes before the door opens. Natasha, in worn grey leggings and a ratty T-shirt, greets you.

Sleepy eyed but smiling she asks, “Did you need Steve to help with a grand declaration of love?”

“Yes,” She pulls you into the room. “I’m sorry for waking you up, but I do need his help.”

“S’no skin off my back, just make sure you get him back in time for his Christmas present.” she sends you an overexaggerated wink and you fight the urge to puke and burst out laughing.

She wanders off, presumably to wake Steve and he stumbles out a few minutes later.

“What do you need, kid?”

After explaining yourself and helping yourself to coffee in Steve’s kitchen and fixing two travel mugs to go, he stares at you in disbelief.

“You want to make a four trip to a New York welcome center for a picture?” he hasn’t even put on his coat yet.

“It will feel much longer if we don’t hurry,” you shove a travel mug into his hands. “I’ll drive!”

The next thing you know you’ve made it to the Adirondacks, done what you wanted to do and now Steve was driving you back to the compound.

“I can’t believe you woke me up for a four drive and that only took five minutes!” He’s complaining, but he’s smiling. He knows what his means. He knows how happy his two friends will soon be.

“I know,” you try to stifle a yawn. “It’s gonna be worth it, I think.”

When you get home you part ways, Steve for maybe an hour of sleep before whatever it is that Natasha does for him on Christmas morning and you for as much sleep as you can manage.

Ditching your coats and boots by the door, you fall into bed and dream of sugarplums dancing.

The banging could be elves working on toys in Santa’s workshop. It could also be someone trying to knock down your door. You pop one eye open and peek at the bedside clock that reads eight in the morning.

Two hours of sleep and now someone was breaking down your door, “Hang on, I’m up.” Hollering as you stretch and climb out of bed you head to the bathroom and run through a very abridged morning routine before answering the door.

Bucky is as handsome as ever in a lovely deep green cable knit sweater and dark jeans. He’s wearing the worn-out slippers you bought him several years ago and it adds to the charm and allure he possesses.

“Heard you snuck out after curfew last night,” he grins and leans against the doorjamb. “Wanna tell me all about your adventure while you open your present?”

You hadn’t realized, but he’d been holding one hand behind his back. When he revealed himself he was holding a beautifully wrapped package.

“I thought everyone was doing presents together?” You gesture him inside and take a seat on the couch.

“We are, but this is special.” He sits next to you and the grin fades into something serious.

“Well, you look well-rested and refreshed, can a girl at least take a quick shower?” Before he can answer, you’re off the couch and into the bedroom with the door closed behind you.

Bucky can entertain himself for twenty or so minutes and this will give you enough time to clean up and dress for the day and take of your very last present.

Over the running shower, you ask Friday to silently connect your phone to the printer in the room. But the time you’re rinsing the conditioner from your hair, it’s done and you can finish up.

After you’re dressed you realize you don’t actually have anything to put it in, so you just slip into a book and take it out into the front room with you. Stealth was never your point, but you could try.

“Feel better?” Bucky hands you a mug of coffee and you smile widely.

“Much, thank you,” you move back to the couch, grabbing his present from the pile on the coffee table. “Shall we?”

You hand over your gift before Bucky can give you his and he smiles as he rips into it like wild five-year-old.

You had found a lovely, antique hinged picture frame. It opened like a book and inside on the left, you had placed a photo taken of the two of you after Bucky’s first visit into the city in Wakanda. Both of you have sunkissed skin and big smiles; he had kissed you right before that photo was taken. It was the first kiss between you two, and it held so many possibilities.

On the right side, a photo was taken of the two of you after Bruce and Doctor Strange had figured out how to bring Tony back. There was a look of shock and awe mixed with an overabundance of happiness. You two had jumped at each other and hugged and when you pulled apart, someone had thought to capture it.

Bucky is deadly still.

He’s so quiet you wonder if he hasn’t reverted to Hydra assassin. You’re about to crack a joke to relieve what you believe to be tension when you hear the faint sniffle.

He’s crying so softly and when he looks at you, your heart wants to break.

“Bucky?”

“This- this is beautiful, doll.” He wraps an arm around you and presses his face into your neck and inhales deeply, “Thank you. It’s the most perfect thing.”

You embrace him tightly and when you pull away from him you immediately reach for the book to give him the second part of his gift when he shoves your present under your nose.

“Oh no, it’s your turn. Then you can tell me all about this late-night drive.” He wipes his face as laughs and you sigh and begin to pull at the ribbon on the package.

You could never rip apart this beautiful paper; the brushed silver background with the royal blue swirls all over it. You’re struggling for a moment until you realize the problem.

“Did you use packing tape?” Bucky laughs at your incredulity and you stick out your tongue as you reach for the scissors on the coffee table and slice through.

When you reach the box inside you can tell it’s lightweight. Opening the box reveals a beautiful knitted scarf in striking emerald.

“It’s from Ireland,” Bucky tells you as you lift it from the box and bring it up to rub it on your face. “I knew how much you liked them and I just figured-”

You cut him off with a quick peck on his lips, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Pulling the entire scarf out, you notice something flutter to the floor.

“There’s something else, doll.”

Picking up what looks like a postcard, you turn it over to find an awkward looking photo of Bucky standing on a street under a sign that says “Welcome to Washington, DC”. You stare at it for a few moments and then burst into hysterical laughter.

“I know it’s a bad picture of me, but I thought the sentiment might be good enough,” He isn’t mad, but you can tell, even through your hysterics, that he’s confused.

“Is this a grand declaration?” You look to him and sober up quickly as he nods.

Reaching for the book and slipping out the photo you had just printed you hand it over and simply say, “Ditto.”

Bucky is struck dumb looking at you in your Christmas jammies and winter boots and coat in front of a huge “I <3 NY” sign at the New York welcome center in the Adirondacks.

“That’s what I was doing last night, or early this morning.”

He looks at you and his blue eyes are bright with fresh tears, “What does this mean doll?”

You take this picture from his hands and set it on the coffee table next to the picture of him in DC. When you turn back to face him you take his hands in yours and smile softly.

“It means that I haven’t been very happy and I want to be,” squeezing his hands you scoot just a little closer. “I want to be happy with you. I was always happy with you, Bucky.”

“With me? Are you sure?” He’s so earnest and eager. “I’d spend the rest of my life making sure you’re happy if that’s truly what you want.”

Leaning in, you press your lips to his. When he cradles your head and crushes your body to his you know how right this is and deepen the kiss. As he pulls away from you and caresses your cheeks you can feel the tears prick your eyes and the smile crepe over your face.

“Where will we live?” You both laugh and Bucky pulls you into a hug and leans back into the cushions of the couch with you in his arms.

“I don’t want you to leave your job. You’re still happy with that, right?” When you explain to him that while you do love what you do, the job is stale and you miss being around the Avengers compound.

You tell him of your plan to talk to Steve and Tony about being able to do both.

“What about the job for you in DC?” Bucky looks sheepish at your question.

“You know those desk jockeys you were going to get in January?” he nods as your jaw drops.

“Buck, you would hate it. Not the purpose behind it, but the actual job,” you turn towards him, animatedly explaining things. “Sitting at a desk all day, writing reports. You’d hate it. I don’t want that for you.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you place your hand over his lips, “I don’t care where we’re based, DC or New York, I just want to be with you. I’ll take Maria’s job and work with the team again.”

“Everything else is just details, right?”

“Right,” you snuggle back into his arms and sigh contentedly. “Wherever we are together will be home.”

Bucky presses a kiss to the top of your head and squeezes you gently in his arms, “Then we’ll always be home for Christmas.”

A minute passes and you burst out into laughter, “You’re such a dork, Barnes.”

He laughs with you, “A dork that loves you.”

“That’s been my Christmas wish for years,” you turn in his arms to kiss him again. “I love you too.”

@quant-um-fizzx @broco8

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers #marvel #fanfic #holiday

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