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tryst-art-archive · 2 years ago

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October 2012: "Please Take My Card Away"

Every so often, I come into some money and get a little reckless. The amount of money varies, ranging anywhere from one hundred and fifty dollars to three hundred dollars. Admittedly, those are still pretty pitiful sums in the scheme of things, but they’re not chump change either. Whatever the precise amount, it’s usually a larger sum than I’ve had sitting in my wallet or lounging in my checking account for a long time, and magically one hundred and fifty dollars transforms from two weeks of hard work or three potential trips to the grocery store into enough money to buy four or five of the Nice Things I’ve had my eye on for the past few months. My logical mind always knows that what I’m holding is Practical Money—just enough for things like bills and food and T passes—but somehow I’ll manage to forget that factoid and start seeing my newfound wealth as Riches—plenty for food and bills and T passes and socks and shoes and video games and decorations and artists’ works and movie tickets and fancy dinners and tasty snacks and clothes and books and music and so forth and so on. The end result is invariably two weeks to a month in which, while waiting on the arrival of three pairs of five-dollar striped socks and a copy of Spec Ops: The Line, I don’t eat a whole lot, but when I do it’s at Elephant & Castle and I insist on paying for my companion.

One such occasion arrived with the first semester of my senior year of college. I had spent the summer in the role of [Company Name Redacted]’s design intern—a peculiar unpaid position which left me both blindingly certain that I needed to get out of school in order to be happy and equally convinced that perhaps, maybe, my life plan wasn’t going to hold up—and had, as a result, only managed to scrape by through the generosity of my family and the sturdiness of my savings account, now sadly depleted. The return of school brought with it the return of my job—I’d been working in [college]’s print shop and mailroom since the day I’d come to the school and though I only make around minimum wage, I’ve given over the majority of my weekday free time to [Different Company Name Redacted], resulting in cold hard cash—and thus the return of a stable income. I’d arranged to work twenty-four hours per week which, with paychecks coming biweekly, worked out to a little over three hundred dollars per pay period. After three long months of nothing but the basics, that first three hundred dollar check looked like a fortune, and I immediately, unconsciously, sought out something to splurge on.

PAX East—a Boston-based video game convention run by the creators of webcomic Penny Arcade—has been a staple of my year since it first took place in March of 2010. It’s expanded rapidly over its short life, being forced to move from the Hynes Convention Center after the first year to the Boston Convention and Exhibition Center for the second year and now PAX East 2013 has sold out of three-day passes within one day of those passes going up for sale, surprising its creators who, like so many others, foolishly believed there was little to know [sic] interest for “that sort of thing” out here on the east coast. Silly boys.

I went to PAX East 2010 first because the notion of a three-day event entirely about video games excited me unspeakably and secondly because I’d never been to anything remotely like a convention before and I rather suspected I’d enjoy it. I was entirely right; I loved the experience to death, even the boring parts, even though I went that year with a boyfriend who would be a hated ex in a mere month, even though I was in the worst phase of an eight-year depression at the time. I adored the exhibit halls where one could preview recently or soon-to-be released games and buy Chessex dice for your favorite table-top roleplaying game. There were tables for trying out every board game, card game, and pen-and-paper roleplaying game one could think of; there were tournaments for fans of Magic: The Gathering and contests for the best-dressed cosplayers (folks dressed in elaborate, detailed costumes of their favorite video game characters) and an overwhelming swath of free giveaways, including the massive swag bag guests received for simply walking in the door. PAX East boasted a huge array of panels from industry professionals and celebrities both in the digital and analog gaming communities, for those interested in discussion, and there were rooms of arcade cabinets, PlayStations, Xboxes, and PCs where one could borrow any game they wished for an hour. An entire hallway was cordoned off and filled with massive bean bag chairs so that people could sit with their handheld systems and play games with these stranger-brethren who gathered to PAX East with them. At night, musical artists like Metroid Metal, the Video Game Orchestra, and Jonathan Coulton provided concerts for PAX East’s guests, and throughout the whole convention one massive competition—the OmegaThon—was held to determine who was the all around best gamer at PAX that year. The concerts were almost a spiritual experience for me—I am not religious, but something about standing there watching an orchestra play an array of songs that not only meant an entire childhood to me but to all of the hundreds of people standing and sitting with me resonated in the way I imagine church resonates for the religious—and I loved the panelists for intellect. The cosplayers had my admiration for their skill, the bravery I thought it must take to put on that costume and pretend to be that character for no other reason than frivolous passion, and the sheer joy on their faces. I spent something like two hundred dollars, not counting ticket price, that first year, forty of which was solely on dice, and I came away with the absolute knowledge that I would attend PAX East for every year that I lived even remotely near Boston and that one day, I, too, would cosplay.

I did not cosplay at PAX East 2011, though I spent most of the autumn leading up to it thinking I’d don a Team Fortress 2 costume—a Scout or an Engineer. I simply never got around to constructing it; I am dreadfully lazy. For PAX East 2012, I managed to throw together a generic fantasy costume from odds and ends around my apartment—I’ve owned a purple cloak for at least six years and a pale green corset for perhaps two and these, in combination with alternately a beach wrap from 2002 or a long, rust skirt from my Irene Adler Halloween costume of 2011 worked out to something resembling a mysterious elf lady from a fantasy painting who was really risking her skin on the BCEC’s many escalators—but it wasn’t a character from anything in particular; it was a costume, not a cosplay. Perhaps it is no surprise then that when I found myself with three hundred dollars and PAX East 2013 six months away, I decided that I would create a cosplay costume; I would be Chell, the protagonist from Valve’s beloved video games Portal and Portal 2.

I began the search at work in the mailroom one day. It was a slow day with few customers and very little mail to sort, and I was bored. I did not, initially, think that I would put together a cosplay in a serious fashion. I merely wondered how easy it would be; was it possible? I had recently purchased a white tank top from ThinkGeek with the logo of the game’s fictional research laboratory, Aperture Science, emblazoned on the front. I knew the Portal 2 model of Chell well enough to know I needed about four to five more pieces to have her full look. What if it was easy? What if I could be Chell?

I decided to search out the little things first. She wore a dark gray pants-like something under a cerulean tanktop, white tank top, and orange jumpsuit. The jumpsuit, in the Portal 2 model, was unzipped and tied at her waist. She also wore Long Fall Boots—fictional footwear that enables its wearer to fall for any distance and fail to completely decimate their legs upon landing—and carried a Portal Gun—an equally fictional, vaguely gun-shaped device for creating two linked portals which defy space, enabling a person to move between them regardless of any intervene distance, gravity, or logic—and wore her hair in a ponytail. There were white bandages around one of her wrists.

I spent some time staring at various images and renderings of Chell before deciding that the gray, pants-like something was going to have to be spandex shorts. I remained undecided as to what, exactly, the gray, sheer swatch at her midriff was meant to represent, but I figured spandex or athletic shorts would get the point across just fine. As I mentioned before, I am terribly lazy, and so I don’t own anything even remotely akin to athletic wear, nor do I know where one goes to buy such things. I polled my coworkers on the subject, but they weren’t much help, so I decided to go with general clothing stores. I subsequently spent some time on the websites of GAP, Old Navy, Kohl’s, Target, Sears, and Macy’s. None of these turned up results I particularly liked, and certainly not in the shade or size I wanted or needed (I have a very large bum; clothing companies do not cater to people whose bum is twice as large, proportionally, as the rest of them). So I turned to eBay, scummy savior of us all, and wound up purchasing a pair of dark gray spandex shorts—“One Size Fits All,” it said, and I laughed, thinking how quickly my bum would destroy those shorts. The answer turned out to be a single wearing. Not the moment I put them on, quite, but near enough to; they now have a lovely seam along the butt crack that certainly wasn’t there before, but it’s not visible when I have the jumpsuit on.

At this juncture it became apparent that I was actually going to do it; I was going to make the costume. I immediately set about finding the cerulean tank top to go underneath my white Aperture Science one. This took an absurdly long time, though I searched many of the same places I had for the shorts, and for many of the same reasons. Shirt sizes, fortunately, are not a problem for me—I am almost always a Small, regardless of brand, though if the style calls for cleavage and low necklines, then I either need an extra-small or, more likely, probably just can’t wear it at all—and that was not the trouble here. No, the trouble was the particular shade of cerulean. Oh, there were plenty of light blue athletic tank tops out there, but none of them quite matched the light sky blue with the subtlest hint of yellow that Chell’s tiny scrap of visible under shirt displayed. I think I spent something like two hours trying to find the perfect shirt; it was certainly more time than I’d spent on the pants. In the end, I wound up giving target thirty dollars for a pretty ugly athletic tank in a nerve-wracking extra small. It was the closest match to the color that I could find, though everything else about it displeased me and shelling out thirty bucks chafed. When it finally arrived—I ordered it online; I couldn’t be bothered to try and get myself to a physical Target, not without a car—it turned out that the built-in sports bra was tight enough to restrict my breathing. “Oh well,” I thought. “I paid thirty dollars for it; I’m going to wear it.” (I never return things; I don’t like being an inconvenience to anyone but myself.)

I figured the bandages would be easily obtained at the Chinatown CVS, and they did turn out to be, and I already had the haircut for Chell’s ponytail. That left the three distinctive items—the orange jumpsuit which had, on closer inspection of images of Chell, a number of fine details; the Portal Gun which I could either buy an over-priced replica of or I could make; and the Long Fall Boots that I would have to make, no matter what. It was several days before I decided what to do about any of these items. The cheapest Portal Gun replica was one hundred dollars on ThinkGeek and sold out until December; there were a number of orange jumpsuits and coveralls to choose from but half of them were low-quality “prisoner” Halloween costumes and the other half were proper, working man’s coveralls only ever available in men’s sizes and typically costing a minimum of forty dollars. There was also a replica of Chell’s very specific jumpsuit available for one hundred dollars, but it wouldn’t be released until October 15th. As to the Long Fall Boots, making them was a daunting prospect. The in-game boots were heelless with a metal strut extending from the back of the calf to the floor that took Chell’s weight, her foot arched as though she wore a high heel. The black-and-white boots also had a massive open section at the shin and were, apparently, held on by straps there; the whole boot needed to stop just short of the knee and had a handful of black designs to be accounted for.

I do not sew, and I do not know how to operate a lathe. I also was getting three hundred dollars every two weeks and, following a painful and on-going break up, found that my living expenses and, particularly, food bill had dropped to a mere fifty bucks. I didn’t go out much, without the gentleman caller, and when I did it was to see my gaming group; I didn’t eat much, because my response to break ups is to unintentionally starve myself, and when I did I ate poorly and certainly not at restaurants or via Foodler; my rent and bills all amounted to very little compared with my previous lease, and so I knew I could have those well in hand. In short: I had disposable income, and I knew it. I did not sew; I did not know how to operate a lathe; I did not want to cut PVC or sand foam blocks into round shapes or figure out how to wire LEDs; I was and am terribly lazy: I dropped the hundred for the replica of Chell’s jumpsuit when it was released on the 15th, and I made mental plans to drop another hundred on the Portal Gun in December. In the meantime, a twenty dollar plush Companion Cube—another distinctive prop from the game—would suffice as a prop for the cosplay. Sufficient for Halloween at least. I can’t tell you how the Portal Gun will turn out, as at the time of writing, I haven’t bought it, but I can say that the Companion Cube turned out to be the perfect pillow for watching TV while laying on the couch and the jumpsuit ripped along the seam in the crotch as soon as I pulled it on (I must have a large, invisible penis) and is currently awaiting repairs from my roommate, who does sew.

Thus there were the boots; the things I had to make. I’d already lost at least two hundred and sixty dollars to the costume, not counting shipping. I couldn’t stop now, buyer’s remorse or no buyer’s remorse. I spent some time looking at what other cosplayers had made: there were modified Go-Go boots up the wazoo; there were a few examples of heelless fashion shoes converted through clever plaster work into Long Fall Boots; two people had actually done the amazing and made honest-to-god Long Fall Boots from scratch by sawing the heel of some high heel boots and milling aluminum to create a sturdy strut. These last were absolutely stunning in their craftsmanship and their accuracy to detail, but they weren’t up for sale, and I’m no more comfortable with power tools than sewing. I decided to go the Go-Go boot route.

Finding the right boots took some long hours of searching; I used the search term “Go-Go boots” because it most nearly fitted what I needed—white, knee-high pleather boots with a small platform and a tall heel. I wasn’t concerned about walking around a convention hall in three to four inch heels, as I wear heels every day and have done so since January 2011, if I’m not mistaken, but I was concerned about finding a style of heel that wouldn’t draw the eye. Most Go-Go boots, it turns out, have chunky, vaguely hourglass-shaped heels. Aside from being ugly and painfully sixties, this kind of heel wasn’t going to fade from sight after I painted them black—photos from cosplayers who had used this kind of boot proved that. No, what I needed was a stiletto, and it took two days before I found one I felt satisfied with through a long chain of store-hopping and modifying search terms. I risked the shoe size on an eight wide—like my bum size, my shoe size does not conform to fashion or factory standards; designers do not make high heels for people with wide feet, particularly not when those people should rightly be a seven or seven and a half in length—figuring that if it was too big I could wear multiple socks and trust to the boot shape to keep the damn things on. The size turned out to be almost perfect—lucky break—and I spent a couple more days staring at the untouched, white boots before I considered getting to work on them. The first step, I knew, was to cut out the front and create straps. I was terrified; what if I messed up? I’d have to buy new boots, and buying them and the supplies to modify them had easily brought the costume’s total cost over three hundred dollars. At this point, I was going to have to wear the stupid thing for every costume-able event for the next three years just to make the whole endeavor worthwhile; it was a damn good thing I counted Portal among my favorite games.

Finally, after much fretting, I sat in my living room with two of my roommates and my ex–gentleman caller. One of my roommates was gluing coyote fur to himself—he goes to art school and considers himself a therian (if you happen to know what that means), so this is par for the course in my day-to-day life—while the other, his lesbian girlfriend, made some felted birds for a set of commissions my mother had handed to her—the commissions were all from moms, grandmoms, and aunts—and my ex–gentleman caller was trying to improve my white-blue, defensive Magic deck that I couldn’t be bothered to make myself. I explained my nervousness over the cutting of the boots, drew moral support from my three literally and metaphorically closest companions, and set to work. I made cardstock templates for the cuts I would make and cardstock templates for the areas I would paint. I taped my cutting template to the boots with painter’s tape and started cutting. The first came out beautifully; the second I cut too far at one point and had to use a combination of duct tape and krazy glue to mask the massive horizontal slit in the boot. I use cyan dry erase marker to denote where the buckles—actually one-inch silver D rings I’d gotten at Joanne Fabrics—for the straps would go and made slits along those lines. I inserted the D rings and folded over a quarter inch of the edge of my cut and used about four packets of Krazy Glue to make the fold and the D rings permanent—I don’t sew, remember. I wound up with a shell of Krazy Glue over my finger tips because there is no easy or safe way to deal with Krazy Glue and so spent most of the drying time trying to scrape the little caps off. The following day, that one roommate attached a coyote’s tail to his butt, over his jock strap and using a binder of Pokemon cards as a weight to make sure the pressure on the silicone glue was strong, and meanwhile I threaded double-sided Velcro straps through my boots’ buckles, pulling them on and measuring out precise lengths so that the straps would have enough leeway to be adjustable at need but wouldn’t extend beyond the area of the cut out. I took the boots off and applied my cardstock stencils and painted high gloss, black acrylic paint onto the boots, creating a black toe, turning the platform black, coloring most of the heel and all of the stiletto black, and adding a swoosh to the outward-facing side of the boot. This took two coats and resulted in a number of missteps and smudges that I later had to obtain some Titanium White acrylic paint to cover up. I spent maybe four days on the painting, all told, adding numerous layers of both colors to ensure consistency in both hue and texture, buying a tiny professional paintbrush so as to refine the edges of the areas I’d painted black.

While the paint dried, I took a black, light aluminum, double-sided wreath hanger and had one of my roommates, a jeweler, saw it in half, giving me to gentle aluminum hooks. I filed the rough edge of the cut away and used my hands and a pair of pliers wrapped in scrap leather to bend these hooks into the shape of the Long Fall Boots’ struts. Half of the struts conformed to the back of the boots’ and my calves, while the rest bent outward in a gentle curve before coming back in toward the boots’ stiletto heels. I glue black foam and black felt to the bottom of the struts to prevent them from scratching floors, and then I used several packs of Krazy Glue to adhere the struts to the boots. This, it turned out, was the most nerve-wracking moment. I had thought that cutting out part of the boots was terrifying—what if I destroyed them? rendered them unusable?—but this was far worse. If I messed this up, not only would I be destroying the boots, but I would be wasting what had come out to about three weeks of on-and-off hard work to make these things look just right. These boots had been keeping me sane, through the senior year of college I did not want to have not because I didn’t want to graduate but because I had never wanted to go to college in the first place, because I only attended out of a perceived obligation to, because I suddenly understood those previously inexplicable students who dropped out in their final year of college or high school even though the beneficial, degreed end was around the corner; through the break up with a gentleman caller whom represented everything I had ever looked for in a friend, in a lover, in a partner, in a future but whom did not or perhaps could not return the feeling, could only care for me as a friend—oh, a good friend, indeed—and even as an object of desire but never as a romantic partner, never as someone to honest-to-god love; through the suicide attempt of a close high school friend who chose me, out of all the people in the world, to confide in, who, predisposed to anxiety and depression, had been finally and utterly decimated by the unintentional emotional abuse present in a relationship I had suggest she enter into with my best friend. Here were those boots, and if I did not attach the struts correctly, I would have ruined them, and I would have to start all over—I didn’t need that right then.

I attached the struts, and I used scrap pleather from that first hesitant cutting to create a little pouch over the top of the struts so that they’d be a bit more secure in place and would be less likely to stab me in the back of the knee, should I kneel while wearing the Long Fall Boots. I gave them a coat of high gloss black to disguise the glue’s dandruff, and I left them to dry. After several days, the struts still held, and the fabric of the boots did not tear under their weight. Several friends of both myself and my roommates saw the boots and declared them lovely; I myself was utterly pleased with them. Oh, there were some errors, to be sure—the swooshes in particular had been problematic, causing me to go over some rather extensive areas with mistake-hiding white, and there was that slit from my cutting error, and one of the struts was hanging ever so slightly askew, and I wound up having to put a felt liner along the edges of my pleather folds to keep the Krazy Glue there from chafing, and at one point one of the D rings popped out when I pulled on a strap too hard, putting the boots on, so that I had to glue it back in—but most of those errors were only visible up close; at PAX East, no one would be getting that close; from where they would be, in the lighting they’d be photographing (people always photograph the cosplayers) in, those errors would be virtually unnoticeable. I had a workable, aesthetic product, and I’d made them with my own two hands, through some tiny miracle, in the midst of two months of pain and disaster.

I set the boots on my unkempt floor, beside my bookshelf, and I put away the other pieces of the costume in my red file cabinet with my other, miscellaneous costume pieces, and I began looking forward to Halloween when I would wear the costume for twelve hours, throughout my work and school day—it would be the durability test, and by god, if anything was going to break, it was not going to be my boots.

#old writing #writing archive #nonfiction #personal essay #prose #the more of these i read the more distressed i become #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH #assignments #college #relationships #money #credit card #making things #cosplay #you will see the cosplay #10s #2012 #Age 21

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ghostickle · 2 years ago

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My favorite game am I an asshole or do my friends just suck

#party was planned two months in advance so people would be able to call off work and plan around it #Yknow it’s my friends 20th birthday and we only get to see each other maybe once or twice a month #planned it so far ahead so any issues could be dealt with in advance #I’ve spent hundreds on food games and decorations #and now I’ve got one person who ditched last minute cause she doesn’t want to drive #so we offered a ride and she just complained about how shitty her life is and left #and I got another bitch who has just barely talked to me being really stand offish #like I did something wrong throwing my friend a birthday party #and they’re his partner but they never opposed before and they never do anything and I actually care about this friend #he’s actually been there for me I want to do something nice and fun for him #so stop being a bitch just buy him a present show the fuck up and enjoy what I’ve spent two months and all my money into #ghost rambles #I’m just pissed that they’re acting like this while I’m not working so I’m not making any money this week so I can bake them cake and snacks #and I spent all the money I did have making this perfect #AFTER I SPENT THE OTHER HALF OF MY MONEY GIVING THEM A FREE RIDE TO SEE MCR LIVE #just for the bitch to complain they don’t care about mcr #like fine then give me back the money for that $300 ticket and the $40 I gave you to buy merch #and I could’ve went to mcr alone I could’ve not done all this for them #use all the money I wasted on them to buy myself a birthday present in January cause god knows they won’t remember my birthday #they never have in the last 5 years I’ve known them #i just. i put in so much to give the people I care about these really cool experiences #and no one’s grateful no one cares #and I’m tired of people complaining or dropping out #i should just quit doing stuff like this from them put the money and work into myself #I’ve wanted to redo my room for ages and I always wanted to do a big shopping trip for clothes #I’d kill to go back to new york #i wanted to get a septum too but put the money into this instead #like maybe it’s not worth trying to include them when they’re always rude #and they leave me out of shit #fucking hell when I was in the psych ward they just abandoned me didn’t talk to me I had no contact to the outside

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0-solshroom-0 · 2 years ago

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For the @drinkwithme-exchange

I got to give a gift to @wheresurboytonighthelookslikeenj and I chose the duo Eponine and Marius from their favorite friendships! I really hope you like it, I write some fanfiction but I’ve never written for Les Mis before so I did my very best. It’s modern au i hope that is okay with you 💕

(disclaimer: do not cycle your tank for an hour, it takes from several days up to 2 weeks to cycle a tank properly but for the purposes of this fanfiction I bent the rules. do proper research before buying a fish! Do not be like Marius)

Eponine had assumed it was an emergency. No, not assumed, was told it was an emergency. Marius barely understood how to use his phone to call someone, let alone text. So when he had texted her to “come over right now, it is the biggest emergency in the world,” she had assumed it was pretty important. What she had not expected was to see Marius on his living room floor clutching a fish bowl.

“Pontmercy..?” Eponine murmured as she finally stepped in the doorway.

“Eponine I accidentally won a goldfish from the carnival and I have no idea what to do with it.” Marius spoke all at once, words jumbling together.

Eponine knelt down next to him, and sure enough in the tiny glass bowl was a rather sad looking orange fish swimming lazily in a circle. “Well… it can’t stay in that.”

“I know, I need a bigger bowl.”

Eponine shook her head. “Definitely not. You need an actual fish tank. And tank decorations… and a filter and food. And probably a bunch of other stuff as well. Good lord Marius did you think this through?”

“I didn’t mean to win the goldfish!” Marius insisted, “I had gone to the carnival with Courfeyrac and then everyone else showed up and we were all taking turns playing this game, but no one was doing well and we all thought it was funny and then it was my turn and somehow I didn’t do badly and now I have a goldfish.”

“You couldn’t have gotten a giant stuffed monkey or something cheesy like that? It had to be a goldfish?” Eponine laughed, shaking her head.

“The lady had already handed me the bowl! I panicked!” Marius insisted.

Eponine laughed a bit more, “You’re panicking again! We see what kind of bad decisions you make when panicked, so let’s calm down yeah? Come on, put the fish on the shelf. We’ll go to the pet store down the way and everything will be fine.”

The trip to the pet store was much more eventful then either of them could have hoped, with Marius almost tripping into the wall of fish tanks, Eponine getting startled by the geckos, and finally the two asking a lady in the shop for help only to realize that Marius’s new pet was going to require a much bigger tank then initially thought.

“Twenty gallons for one little guy…” Marius sighed, shook his head, and continued carrying buckets of water between the sink and the new fish tank, which sat on the coffee table in the middle of his living room as there was nowhere else to put it.

Eponine laughed, arranging plants and wood around in the tank that was slowly rising in water level with each bucket full. “You signed up for this Marius, next time don’t be so good at carnival games, or give the fish to Jehan or someone I don’t know.”

“I just spent two hundred dollars in a pet store Eponine, this is madness.” Marius sighed.

“You could have given the fish away if it was that big of a problem.”

Marius looked offended, “No, I love him. Leave Marius Jr. out of this.”

“Marius Jr.? That’s the best you could come up with?” Eponine raised an eyebrow.

“Uhm…” He glanced around nervously before sighing, “Yes…”

“Well… I guess if that’s what you want.” She laughed as Marius added the last bucket of water. “Okay, I guess now we just wait on the heater to warm the water and then put the fish in?”

Eponine shrugged, “Do I look like a fish expert?”

“You knew it couldn’t live in a bowl.”

“Everyone with a brain knows a fish can’t live in a bowl.” Eponine gently flicked his forehead.

“I have a brain. Courfeyrac told me once that I am very intelligent.” Marius crossed his arms over his chest.

“Courfeyrac also wholeheartedly believes the gnomes in Musichetta’s garden come to life at night and swap places, so that’s not helping your case much.” Eponine chuckled, sitting on the couch. “Don’t trip over that extension cord by the way. It was the only way I could get the filter plugged in.”

“I won’t.” He nodded, taking a seat next to her.

“Famous last words. C’mon, let’s watch something while we wait on this fish tank to actually be suitable for fish. There’s a new crime documentary on Netflix I wanted to check out.”

“Eponine if I watch a crime documentary I won’t sleep tonight.” Marius insisted.

“You’ll be fine.”

Marius paused, and for a moment the two were in a stare off before he finally sighed. “Fine, but only because you helped me set up the fish tank…”

One crime documentary later, Marius Jr. the goldfish was happily swimming in his new home. Marius was in a trance watching the little fish swim back and forth between pieces of wood.

Eponine laughed. “Worth all the trouble?”

“Definitely.”

#les miserables #les mis #les amis #marius #eponine #drink with me #drinkwithme2022

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gucciwins · 4 years ago

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Frosty the Snowman

Harry and Y/N love the holiday season but Harry takes the teasing a bit to far and well Y/N decides to give it right back.

Word Count: 5126

A/N: hello! thank you so much to @goldenbluesuit for organizing this wonderful christmas fic challenge. thank you for allowing me to participate, kate. i’m so happy i got to be a part of it. merry christmas and happy holidays to you all. sending you all a big hug and lots of love.

_____

Christmas has never been much of importance in your life.

That was until you began dating Harry.

Harry and his family loved celebrating in particular because Harry was gone for so many months of the year. They loved giving gifts, and Harry loved spoiling his family. He was a true family man who loved to be doted on by his mother and teased relentlessly by his older sister. His smile never leaves his face when he's with them.

Ever since Harry found out how you spent the holidays alone drinking wine and hot chocolate on and off and binging all the best holiday movies. He declared that was not acceptable and that furthermore and until the end of time you would be spending it with him and his family.

The first year was something out of a storybook, a house full of kids and adults, Christmas music all day, and a big festive dinner. Gifts passed around, photos being taken to be added to the end of year scrapbooks. Lots of stories being told; honestly, it overwhelmed you.

Anne found you outside wrapped up in Harry's coat that you swiped before slipping out unseen. She stood next to you, overlooking her garden with you. "My son loves you; he's brought you here not to overwhelm you but to let you know that you have a family here, and you always will." You let your tears run free, feeling comforted, and loved. "I've never seen him shine as bright as he does when he's with you and when he's speaking of you. We all want you here as much as he does." Anne then pulled you into a long hug, the motherly hug you never got growing up. Reminded you not to stay out too long.

Three Christmases later, you now take part in family traditions, helping Anne cook dinner and staying in sweats and playing family games all of Boxing Day.

It's what makes your move to London with your boyfriend of four years easy. Knowing they want you there, knowing that the love Harry has for you won't fade, you've gone through many hurdles together, and it only strengthened your bond to one another.

Four years together, and you're still learning new things about each other, like Harry having to have coffee first thing in the morning, bread was a must-have always in the house, and that he owned more mugs than he needed. He picked up that you adored your shoes, meaning you wouldn't throw them out until they were ripped and beat up enough for a new pair. Also learned that you rather eat lots of fruit during the day than making food in the kitchen because it meant more dishes that would be needed to wash. You loved doing the laundry, Harry knew it was to steal his shirts, but he didn't mind. He always knew where to find them.

The one thing that really surprised him was your love for Christmas music; you knew every song, maybe couldn't remember the name, but you would be able to sing it. It never failed to make him smile; you even knew ‘Feliz Navidad’ and didn't butcher it as he did.

Your love for Christmas music was signified because you never celebrated the holiday, and music was easy to access. It was what you immersed yourself in.

This is why Harry is confused when he hears you begin to sing ‘Frosty the Snowman’ under your breath, then switching to a soft hum in the tune of the song as you start to place your freshly washed sweats in their drawers.

Harry was not sure why you did that; you loved singing out loud. You had a decent voice, as you liked to say, but why switch.

You're clueless to Harry watching you, deep in thought, trying his best to analyze you.

Then Harry gasps; it all clicks, making sense.

You raise your head to look at him, shutting the drawer with your hip. "What?"

"You don't know the lyrics." Harry accuses.

"To what?" You step towards the bed, wanting to finish the rest of this to finally go down and each lunch.

"Frosty the Snowman."

"I do." You defend.

Harry smirks, crossing his arms. "Prove it."

"No."

"Why not?"

You frown before taking a deep breath and begin to hum the song correctly to Harry.

"Okay, you know the tune, now the lyrics." He gestures for you to go on.

"Frosty the snowman..." Your voice dies down, you rake your brain for the correct lyrics, sending a smaller prayer you're right. "had a shiny nose?"

"Oh, this is golden, love." He's laughing now. It's filling up the room.

"Harry," You whine.

"You call yourself the Christmas Queen." Harry is holding his stomach, his laughter getting to be too much. "Next, you're going to tell me you don't know the lyrics to 'All I Want For Christmas Is You.'"

"How dare you, that came out in our birth year." You're over making fun of you.

"Okay fine, but really so many years, and you never learned. You said you love all Christmas music, and well, that's a classic, dove."

You run a hand through your hair, your fingers getting caught on the tips for not brushing it out. "I never actually got to make a snowman, so I never listened to the lyrics."

"Are you secretly a Grinch as well?" Harry teases.

You throw a balled-up shirt of his and hit him square in the face; it quiets him down. "Conversation over."

You walk out of the room, leaving him alone, to his chuckling.

_____

In your home, something was always baking.

It was either Harry trying to better his last bread or you baking a new vegan cake that Gemma sent you.

It's something you both loved to do.

For you, though, it was your own form of meditation. No matter the time of day, if you felt your head spinning, you'd just head to the kitchen and begin to take out ingredients letting that be your only focus. The Great British Baking Show also brings a lot of comfort to you, Harry happily laying his head on your lap, your hand running through his hair as you just let the show play on and on.

Now, you're in the kitchen for a whole other reason; you're baking gingerbread cookies, from snowflakes to snowman and even little reindeer. Harry has invited friends over for a fun holiday decorating party. It sounded like a good idea until he left you to do it all yourself as he ran errands that he pushed off for a week.

Thankfully, there were no distractions during the time it took you to make one hundred cookies because there would be casualties during the decorating. Just as you were putting the last dozen on the cooling rack, does your phone ring causing it to cut off Paul McCartney's singing of 'Wonderful Christmastime.'

As you pick it up to answer, you check the caller id and see that it's Gemma calling.

Gemma forgoes a greeting and goes straight to the reason for her call.

"You don't know 'Frosty the Snowman!'" She exclaims more than asks.

"I'm going to kill him." You groan into the phone.

Gemma laughs, "No, no, please don't. Mum likes you too much to see you behind bars."

"Gem, he's been relentless." Thinking back to the past few days and how he'd randomly come up to you and just begin to sing the lyrics to you, not shutting up until you tickled him too much to continue. "Please don't let it come up later."

"I've got you," Gemma assures you.

"Thank you."

"As long," Gemma begins, but you groan jokingly into the phone.

"Go on," You sigh, knowing this is how the eldest Styles sibling acts.

"As long as you tell me what Harry bought mum for Christmas."

"Alright, fair." Very well, Harry would most likely spoil this himself the closer the holiday arrives.

Just as you were about to spoil Harry's gift, he walks through the kitchen, saved by the devil himself. "I'll tell you later when you get here." You tell Gemma, smiling at Harry as you bid his sister goodbye.

"Who was it, love?" Harry asks, kissing you lightly on your lips, being able to taste the gingerbread on your lips that makes him beeline to the cooled cookies.

"Gems, a huge birdie told her I don't know the lyrics to a popular song." You lean against the counter, smiling as he has a cookie in hand already; he is also a big reason you made so many.

"Hey," He says, offended, a cookie half shoved in his mouth. "I'm not huge."

"Never said it was you, hun." You smirk. "Thanks for fessing up."

He pouts, not liking that you outsmarted him.

"Might want to watch the cookies." You pinch his love handles, snatching what was left of the cookie from his hand and heading upstairs.

Harry watches you walk away, upset that you stole his cookie; also, he knows you love his winter gains.

_____

You and Harry are up fairly early, he likes to go on a run around the neighborhood, but you like going to the park. This morning you skipped your run because Harry was meeting up with a friend for breakfast.

Sure, you got up at your usual time at 7am and began to prepare yourself breakfast. You usually drank coffee with Harry and seeing as he wasn't here, you decided to skip it, instead going straight to the fridge to get the fruits and orange juice to make a smoothie. Something simple, not wanting to clean much after.

As you finally settled on the couch, getting ready to read Educated by Tara Westover, a book Gemma recommended to her then gifted to her. Tara's memoir is her story of how she comes from a Mormon background and recounts how she educated herself to go to college and learn about the world. It's a Friday, and what better way to spend it lost in a book.

You had just flipped it open when your phone rang, alerting you to a message. As much as you didn't want to check because you were finally in a comfortable position, you knew it could easily be Harry checking in who gets worried about not getting a reply even five minutes after. He's a worrier at heart.

As you retrieve it and settle yourself back down, not at all comfortable anymore, you see it's a message from Iz. She was the first friend you made on your own that Harry didn't introduce you to. Iz saw you at a coffee shop you began to frequent and complimented your tote bag that had wildflowers embroidered on it. You thanked her and shared you made it. Iz was shocked, just throwing compliment after compliment. You offered to make her one, but she said you had better teach her instead. Thus, a friendship began.

Her message read:

Radio 1 Breakfast Show. Listen in!

It was definitely a strange message coming from Iz, but you did as told.

Greg James was saying goodbye to his special guest, no idea who it was. "Before he signs off, he's going to play you one of his favorite Christmas songs," Greg says, then silences, allowing his guest a moment before speaking.

"This week's Christmas song is in honor of my girlfriend who loves singing Frosty the Snowman... without knowing the lyrics. Happy Holidays."

Your jaw drops.

That your boyfriend's voice. You are the girlfriend.

He went on record.

Harry really went on live radio to tell thousands that you don't know the lyrics to a Christmas classic.

You want to laugh because you never expected this from him and are annoyed that something personal now the whole world will know by the end of the day.

You can't wait until he arrives home.

"Harry Edward Styles!" You yell as you hear Harry open the front door.

He looks sheepish. "Yes, my darling angel."

"You told me you were having breakfast with Greg James, not that you were going to be on the Breakfast show."

"I took muffins, and they provided coffee, therefore, breakfast." Harry defends

"You exposed me to all of the UK to not knowing 'Frosty the Snowman.'"

"No one knows you're my girlfriend." Harry tries to brush it off.

"We've been dating four years; I'm not that much of a secret. Anne posts me on her story from time to time, and your friends follow my Instagram, fuck; you've introduced me to Greg." You're not angry, more annoyed than anything because he won't let this go.

"It's just to give everyone a good laugh; no one is going to hold it against you."

"No, just my boyfriend and everyone who listens to the Breakfast Show." You cross your arms before storming up the stairs away from Harry.

"Love? You're not actually mad, right?" Harry asks, pushing the bedroom door open.

"You even got Iz on it!" Your turn around with a pout on your face.

Harry laughs. "I honestly thought she wouldn't go through with it."

"Well, I see where her loyalty lies."

Harry steps close and pulls you into his chest. You sigh, wrapping your arms around him. He knows how much you love his hugs.

"I promise this is the last I mention of it."

You frown into his chest, not at all believing him. Harry pats your bum, and you take that as the queue to look up at him. He's smiling down at you, leaning in to give you a quick peck. "I promise."

"Okay, then." You lean in and kiss him, firmer this time and much longer. Harry sneaks his tongue in, instantly getting a moan out of you.

"I know how you can make it up to me." You gasp, pulling away,

Harry raises an eyebrow at you. "Do tell."

A smirk on both your faces as you guide him to the bed, very much hungry for something that wasn't breakfast.

_____

Harry has the Christmas playlist running; it's a Sunday, meaning they spend it at home doing absolutely nothing. To be truthful, they rolled out of bed past ten and still have their pj's on. Not at all bothering to change, why waste more clothes if no one will see them like this in the comfort of their own home.

You cooked grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and now are playing a game of scrabble.

Harry puts down the word 'light,' then reaching his hand into the black pouch to pick five letters to have seven once again. You are looking back and forth between the board and your letters, thinking of the best place to place your word.

"I've got a question," Harry says, looking at you, wanting all your attention as well.

"What is it?" You're focused on your letters. Rearranging them, not putting down the 'q' in your hand. It's currently useless but will eventually give you a word to win the game. Not that you both ever keep points, oh no, that stopped after you beat harry 120 to 66, and he flipped the board, causing letters to fly everyone. You still claim that there are missing letters.

"Frosty is a cute name."

"Reminds me of that Wendy's dessert. I'm still not sure what made it so good." You say, maybe you should get up and eat some. Harry did just pick up new flavors that he had been wanting to try something about them being richer in flavor.

"You're getting off track."

"Sorry, Frosty is cute for what?" You don't let him answer before you're speaking again. "A dog, did you get a dog?" You pause, looking up at him, "a cat, did Anne find a stray and wants to give them to us?" You wait, but Harry is about to crush all your excitement.

"None of that." He shakes his head at you, and disappointment fills you immediately.

"Well, can this conversation end then? I'm disappointed."

"Darling," Harry chastises you for not letting him go on.

"Go on then, mate." You gesture him to continue. Shifting your attention away from the game in front of you.

Harry frowns, his eyebrows pinching together in the sweet way that makes you want to rub them out until he's relaxed. "Why'd you call me, mate?"

"Oh, I've called you this before." You brush off Harry's reactions; he's always dramatic.

"I'm not your friend." He states.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head and really look at Harry. "Well, of course, you are boyfriend," You emphasize, dragging out the word. "You're my best friend."

"You can't say boyfriend anymore. I'm your fiancé now." Harry states proudly, but you feel a little dumbfounded, not knowing why he is saying that.

Your eyes widen when you look down at your left hand, and no ring rests on your left ring finger.

"Fuck, I missed your proposal, and the ring got lost." You pout, trying your best to stop the smirk from coming out.

"Darling, I'm sorry." Harry quickly apologizes. "I'm still your boyfriend, but I will be proposing soon." He promises. "Shit, you were supposed to not even know. I really am bad at hiding things."

"Fuck, you really are." You laugh, "but boyfriend sounds cute. Can't I still say boyfriend when you do?"

"Doesn't fiancé sound nicer?" Harry tries.

You shrug. "Not as fun, husband is nice."

"You're rejecting my future proposal, then." Harry is teasing, and you can tell by the sparkle in his forest eyes.

"Of course not, you dummy. You can be my fiancé and my boyfriend." You tell him like it was the most obvious answer.

"Seems like a lot of work."

"Rude." You stick your tongue at him.

"Right, love, well try to remember I'm your husband once we're married, no more boyfriend."

"I will, hubby. You're going to be my hubby."

You both go silent.

You burst out laughing, "That's awful, I hate it."

Harry chuckles, nodding his head. "Yeah, I do as well."

"This is why I'm the brains in the relationship."

"Right," Harry rolls his eyes at you, not at all agreeing.

"Uh, darling, I went to uni and got two degrees while you only finished school at sixteen before going off to steal millions of hearts around the world."

"Including yours." He teases.

"I was always more a Zayn girl." You correct him.

Harry throws his arms up, "Can never let me win, can you?"

"Nope"

"We're off-topic." Harry realizing how far they strayed from their starting point.

"Where did we start?"

"Frosty."

You sit back, resting against the couch; you take him in and smile at how cuddly he looks in the purple robe that he stopped letting you use. "Well, go on."

"Seeing as-" He pauses, hearing the familiar opening notes to the song he was thinking of. 'Frosty, the Snowman' is now his favorite song. "Perfectly timed, as you don't know the lyrics to Frosty the snowman."

"Gosh, you're never going to let this go," You grumble.

"Nope. I figured we will have a little fun with this."

"More fun than the breakfast show."

He gives you a pointed look.

You let out a long sigh, "Let's hear it."

"You learn all the lyrics and sing it for me, and I'll let you get us a dog or cat." Harry's grinning at his idea, knowing you'll agree without a fight.

"Can we go to the shelter?" You look like a kid on Christmas morning who had just received their presents from Santa, and in a way, you have.

"Yes, we can. Only if you can learn the entire song." Harry tells you again, wanting to emphasize the singing.

"Done deal."

"Great, I'm giving you a week."

You smile wide, nodding, looking, finally focusing back down at your words and the ones Harry has placed. You put down the word 'queen,' and this wins you the non-official game. Harry looks down at his poorly hidden score sheet and curses under his breath.

"I win."

Safe to say you lost more letters that day.

_____

It's been a week, and Harry is patiently waiting on their bed as you get ready in your shared closet. Your shared closet is large and mainly holds all of Harry's clothing. You definitely have a nice share of clothes filled with gifts from friends as well as Harry's friends and your treasured thrifted pieces. You smile at yourself in the full-length mirror.

Harry really can't begin to imagine what you have in store for him.

The speaker is set out and ready, and all that is needed is for you to make your entrance.

You shake out your hands in hopes of ridding yourself of the nerves. You look yourself over one last time before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.

"Close your eyes." You call out.

Harry rolls his eyes but does as he is told.

You walk over to the speaker and press play, letting the music fill the room, making your way to stand in front of Harry, who slowly opens his eyes.

He gasps; he feels himself start to get hard. His eyes can't seem to take everything in fast enough. You smirk, loving the reaction you got out of him. It gives you the extra boost of confidence you were needing.

You stand there, hand on your hip in a sexy snowman outfit to go with the performance you are about to give.

The dress, if you can consider it with how short it is, has three black buttons in the center. The material hugs your chest nicely, giving Harry a nice view of your breasts that are close to popping out. The dress hugs your waist and begins to flow out right past your butt. You wore your favorite black heels that Harry sometimes begs you not to take off. You had on a plaid scarf and a black hat that matched it perfectly.

You were the human version of the snowman except for a more rated r version.

Harry is sitting his mouth wide open at a loss for words. You blow him a kiss before letting the song lyrics flow out of you.

Frosty the snowman

Was a jolly happy soul

With a corncob pipe and a button nose

And two eyes made out of coal

You sway your hips side to side, singing, enjoying the ravenous stare he was giving you. You throw the hat, letting it fall at his feet, but not even that breaks the gaze he has on you, not wanting to miss a single movement of yours.

Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say

He was made of snow

But the children know

How he came to life one day

You take a few steps forward, but never enough to allow him to touch you, and he's craving it; you know he is. His hands are gripping his thighs, his knuckles turning whiter by the seconds.

He still hasn't said a word. You have him mesmerized.

You sing the lyrics proudly, knowing you practiced all week for this moment. The moment Harry will never forget all the teasing he had been doing, always forgetting you win these battles.

There must have been some magic in that

Old silk hat they found

For when they placed it on his head

He began to dance around

"Baby," Harry breathes out, putting a hand out to touch you, but you take a step back before he can do so.

You smirk, shaking your head no at him. You were having a lot more fun than you expected.

You bend over, slipping off your heels, never breaking eye contact with Harry; he could very easily see up the dress that you had nothing underneath. His green eyes turned dark, and you swore your heart stopped, and you were sure he was about to attack. You were the prey, taunting him until he had enough, but surprisingly enough, he took a deep breath, and his composure was back well, just a bit of it.

O Frosty the snowman

Was alive as he could be

And the children say he could laugh and play

Just the same as you and me

You stopped right in front of him. Harry's eyes trained on your red lips, hanging out to every word you were singing. You reached a hand back and began to unzip the dress. The grin on your face excited for the next reaction you were about to receive.

Once you reached the bottom of your back, the dress fell to the floor. Harry let out a loud gasp. Your breasts on display, the small owl tattoo on your hip staring at him, he could see how wet you were, and all he wanted was his head between your thighs as you screamed his name.

You were a dream. You missed Harry's touch. It was the reason you stepped close enough for him to finally pull you in.

He led them down the streets of town

Right to the traffic cop

And he only paused a moment when

He heard them holler "Stop!"

Harry has no expression on his face as he sits you on his lap. He lets his head fall into your next, feeling how wet you are through his thin sweats. You move to stand up, but he grips your hips tightly, thrusting his hips against yours, searching for some kind of relief or a reaction from you because you still haven't stopped singing.

"Baby, stop singing." His hand is cradling your cheek as his lust-filled eyes stare at you.

You shake your head, not letting him distract you. The only piece of clothing left was the scarf, and Harry lets out a growl before ripping your scarf off your neck, throwing it off to the side.

Now you truly sit there naked in his lap, and you feel all the control you have over him. The song is coming to an end, meaning you've got to remove yourself from your favorite place to sit but knowing you'll be back there soon enough.

Frosty the snowman

Had to hurry on his way

But he waved goodbye, saying

"Don't you cry I'll be back again someday"

You sing the final lyrics in his ear before walking away to turn off the speaker, an extra sway to your hips, knowing Harry is very well still watching your every move. You stand a delighted look on your face as you wait for his praise.

"Those were the longest two minutes of my life," Harry says; he puts a hand over his heart, feeling like it might just burst out. "I'm never going to be able to listen to this song in public or around anyone that isn't you."

You smirk, thrilled to hear that.

"What did I do to end up with someone as beautiful and perfect as you in my life." He confesses.

"Probably stopped a war in a past life." You throw out jokingly.

Harry puckers his lips and makes grabby hands at you. "Kissy, please?"

And who are you to say no? He spreads his legs, letting you step in between. You slip your fingers into his hair, pulling back with enough force to have him let out a moan. You lean down and connect your lips in a hot kiss, one that has Harry gripping you tightly wherever he can get his hands on. You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you happily give up the control to him.

You pull back and rest a hand on his chest, preventing him from pulling you back for you. You wipe your thumb over his bottom lip that now has some of your red lipstick. "Seems like I won, sweets."

"I feel like the real winner here," Harry tells you cheekily, sneaking a kiss to both your boobs. You giggle, not at all surprised by his action.

"Well," You fiddle with the collar of his shirt. "Why don't you show me how winners celebrate?"

"With pleasure." Harry groans standing up quickly and pushing you back against the best. He strips as fast as he can, not without a small stumble; you're sure to keep your giggle quiet, knowing very well how easily he gets embarrassed.

He is quick to get on top and kisses you hard. His kisses are always soft, but it seems the teasing seemed to flip a switch, one that you will happily remember to look to turn on again on a later date. Tonight, you are ready for an endless night of pleasure and love.

Harry connects their lips, ready for an endless night of pleasure and love.

_____

Christmas cards were a lovely tradition. Harry insisted they started because he wanted to show off his beautiful girlfriend to his friends and family. He also liked them handwritten because it added a nice personal touch. Who were you to argue about it?

This year you were the one excited to send them out.

It read: Merry Christmas from our beautiful family to yours

You and Harry sat in front of the fireplace, four stockings hanging behind you. Harry made you sit in his lap, wanting to show off your matching two-piece buffalo plaid pajamas. You both had the biggest grins on your face, eyes shining bright. Next to you, laying on top of a box that was wrapped with blue sloth wrapping paper, was a one-year-old Australian shepherd that had spent the better of six months in the shelter because the small pup was quiet who didn't do well with people, but that changed instantly the minute he met you. You decided on the name Frosty for him. Not only did Harry get you the dog of your dreams but a small kitten as well. You brought home Snow, a six-month white Birman kitten who was the rut of his siblings, and how could you just not bring him home with you with his big blue eyes staring at you begging to add to your family because he had lots of love to give. At least that's what you told Harry what the look he was giving you meant. The two siblings laid next to each other, both surprisingly staring right at the camera, making it their best Christmas photo yet.

A photo can honestly speak a thousand words because one glance at this photo tells you how much love there is in that home and their relationship.

Christmas was all about spreading joy and love, and well, Harry accomplished just that for you.

_____

thank you so much for reading! i honestly hoped you loved it and would love to hear what you thought so send me a message if you like.

i love you!

#harry styles #gbsxmaschallenge #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #christmas #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff

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ncssian · 4 years ago

Text

A Favor: Part Thirteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: merry christmas

***

Nesta and Cassian agree to take separate cars to Velaris— not because they’re so afraid of being discovered together that they’ll risk global warming, but because Nesta has a preceding event and tells Cassian not to wait up for her.

After a rushed Secret Santa with the boys at Emerie’s apartment, Nesta drops by Gwyn’s place and leaves a small parcel at the doorstep. She doesn’t have time to knock and make conversation, but the gift is the least she can do after Gwyn surprised her the other day with a copy of a highly anticipated romance book weeks ahead of its official release.

“The library got early copies and I borrowed this one for you,” she said out of nowhere one afternoon, handing her the book. Nesta blinked in shock, not realizing that she and Gwyn were close enough for such acts of kindness. Even if their conversations felt like they’d been friends for much longer, they’d only known each other for a couple of weeks. It was then that she realized that’s just how Gwyn is. She does nice things because she can, not because social bonds or etiquette compels her to.

Guilt isn’t something Nesta feels often, but she was ravaged by it when she thought of not repaying Gwyn’s kindness. She couldn’t bear the idea of imbalances or debts being created in her relationships with her new friends, and spent the last two days searching everywhere for a decent gift to make up for it. She’ll have to text to make sure Gwyn got her present later tonight.

After a two hour drive (she might have taken detours to stall), Nesta is in the hallway leading to Feyre and Rhysand’s penthouse apartment. The door is cracked open enough that laughter and music float out to where she stands, and her fingers tighten on the bag carrying her sisters’ gifts. She checks her makeup in the hall mirror one final time, assuring that not a smidge of her perfect armor is out of place.

An in-and-out operation, she tells herself, flicking a lock of hair away from her face. She’s prepared for this.

Walking up to the half-open door, she’s struck down by the decision of whether to knock before going in or not. Luckily, the choice is taken away from her when the door swings open on its own, and Feyre is on the other side.

“Nesta,” her sister says in surprise, in a good or bad way Nesta doesn’t know.

Nesta blinks. “Did you know I was here?” She gestures to the door.

“Oh, no...” Feyre pokes her head past Nesta into the hallway. “Actually, I was checking to see if the pizza guy was here yet,” —she looks back at Nesta— “but this is even better!”

The slight strain in her voice makes Nesta think otherwise.

She doesn’t play along with the game. She doesn’t even comment on how they’re having pizza on Christmas Eve. Feyre adds after a moment, genuinely this time, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Nesta glances down at her dress, a skintight ruched piece that shows more chest than usual, and then back up at Feyre’s designer jumpsuit. “So do you,” she says, her voice more flat than she’d prefer it. But she means it. “Can I come in?” she gestures inside, hoping to put an end to this conversation and her nerves.

“Right, duh,” Feyre laughs, grabbing Nesta’s gift bag and waving her inside. “Elain’s in the kitchen if you want to see her. Grab a drink and make yourself comfortable.”

Nesta steps past the door cautiously, eyeing the penthouse as if it’s her first time here. The winding iron-railed staircase is to the right, leading up to the second floor which holds all the bedrooms. The living area sprawls to her left, and through a wood-paneled threshold across from her is the dining room and kitchen. If anything is different from the last time she visited, it’s that the place is now considerably more lived in: pictures, hand-picked art, and other signs of life and love decorate every inch of the apartment, to the point where it makes Nesta feel like a home invader.

She’s so busy absorbing this place she doesn’t belong in that it takes her a moment to realize the room has fallen silent.

She turns to the living area, and her eyes land on Cassian first. He went so far as to put on a suit for tonight, and he’s watching her with a stunned quietness that makes her proud of her own outfit choice.

Nesta knows there are other people in the room, but she really can’t bring herself to care. Her hands twitch at her sides, instinctively reaching for him—

“Look who finally decided to show up,” a smug voice drawls.

Nesta looks away from Cassian to find that just about everybody else is staring at her, too. The voice who spoke up is that tiny woman named Amren, and she’s watching Nesta now with a sharp glint in her gray eyes.

Slick discomfort coats Nesta’s insides at Amren’s tone, and she lets her hands fall behind her back so they can’t reveal her anxiety. “Merry Christmas, everyone,” are the first words out of her mouth.

“’Sup, Nesta,” Cassian is the only one that bothers to respond. His tone holds none of the closeness or intimacy it usually does— it’s been replaced with a removed, almost strained friendliness instead.

Remembering that seeking him out for comfort is not an option tonight, she tries to find somewhere else to look.

In the span of a second, she spies Mor’s curiosity, Rhysand’s vague distaste, and Varian’s hesitance, before finally settling on Azriel’s bland look of disinterest. His phone dangles lazily from his hand, and he looks about two seconds away from going back to it and ignoring her completely.

It’s his detachment that grounds Nesta enough to remember her words. “I’m going to…” she gestures vaguely toward the kitchen, “get some food.”

“I can help—” Feyre starts.

“No, thank you,” Nesta quips, then hightails it out of there. The conversation, along with Nesta’s heartbeat, restarts as soon as she’s out of the room.

Following the short hallway connecting the dining space to the huge kitchen, she freezes when she finds Elain standing before the dual range oven, staring intently down at her phone. She curses herself silently— how did she forget her other sister would be waiting here right after being told so?

Elain’s head snaps up at the sound of Nesta’s heels on the tile, looking flustered. She quickly tucks her phone into the pocket of her apron before she realizes who she’s looking at, and a wide smile overtakes her beautiful face. “Is that really you?” Elain marvels in her lilting southern accent.

The words hit Nesta bluntly for some inexplicable reason. She shakes it off with a blink and smiles back, far more subdued than Elain but still genuine. “Lain,” she greets kindly, like they’re two old friends picking up right where they left off.

It’s Nesta’s fault that things are like this, she knows. She hasn’t bothered holding a real conversation with her closest sister in months, and now she’s in the same room as her hoping she won’t have to face Elain’s disappointment for her distance.

“Oh, get over here, how’ve you been?” Elain crosses the sleek kitchen and waves her into a hug. Nesta awkwardly pats her back, and is held even tighter when she tries pulling away.

She only manages to detach from Elain when Elain’s apron pocket vibrates. Stepping back, she takes her phone out and silences it before tucking it away once more. “So,” she grins when her focus returns to Nesta, “how’s the lone wolf life treating you? Isn’t it great to be back at your old apartment?”

“It’s good. I’m doing good,” she nods along. Nesta hates small talk more than anything, but this is the least she owes Elain. And the least she owes herself, if she’s being honest. Even if she knows she will never truly be fit for a life of socialization.

She takes things a step further and nods to the oven, asking, “What are you cooking up?”

She knows she’s done something right when Elain’s dark eyes light up, and she starts rattling off the three-course menu she’s prepared for tonight. (“What about the pizza on the way?” Nesta asks. Elain’s face darkens. “Don’t get me started. Some of the people in that living room have the taste palate of five year olds.”)

Nesta takes a seat at the island and falls into the age-old rhythm of listening to her sister talk, her heart feeling bruised and soothed at the same time. How similar and different they are now from the people they were ten years ago. Nesta doesn’t know if this is a good thing or not.

***

“That’s the thirtieth time you’ve checked your phone since Mor started telling her dolphin story,” Cassian mutters to Azriel sitting next to him on the couch.

Az clicks his phone off and turns it facedown so Cassian can’t see the screen, his face remaining blank the entire time. “I can’t help it if I’ve heard the dolphin story a hundred times already.”

“You’ve been staring at that thing the entire night,” Cassian calls him out. “Anyone on there more interesting than us, dear brother?”

Az snorts, not bothering to look at him. “Like you’re one to talk.” He reaches for his glass of liquor on the side table.

Cassian frowns as the chatter drowns out his murmur. “What do you mean?”

Azriel takes a sip from his drink, not replying. “When do you plan on letting us back at your cabin?” he says instead.

Cassian snorts. “It’s not like I’ve been keeping you away from it.”

“You turned Rhys and me down every time we made plans about coming over.”

“Because Nesta was staying there.” He is very, very careful about the way he says her name. Even talking about her is walking a thin line.

“She moved out a while ago, though,” Azriel continues. He leans back into the couch. “Speaking of Nesta, I don’t remember her being that hot. Did you see her in that little dress tonight?”

Cassian tenses, dull anger sliding over his bones and under his skin. “We all fucking saw her,” he says tightly.

Az clicks his tongue. “Damn. A woman like that shouldn’t be wasted in a small town.” His eyes slide over to Cassian’s with a dark glint of amusement. “You mind sharing?”

In that moment, Cassian is presented with the option of punching Azriel in the face. Hard. It’s only due to a divine miracle that he doesn’t.

Even with his temper, Cassian knows when he’s being played with. “How did you know.” His voice is flat, cold.

“You have ‘Nesta’s bitch’ written all over your face.”

Goddammit. Cassian clenches his teeth, saying nothing. Can everyone see it, or only his closest brother? How long has he known?

“I had my suspicions,” Az says simply, “when you ran out of Thanksgiving dinner like your ass was on fire after she sent you that thirst trap.”

Cassian blinks. Of course; the bastard peeked at his phone the last time they were together. No reason other than that.

“It wasn’t a thirst trap,” he grits, on high defense now. “It was a perfectly appropriate photo that you never should have seen.”

Az’s lips twitch upward. “Could’ve fooled me with the way you reacted to it.”

This— this is exactly why he doesn’t want anybody to know about him and Nesta. Because even though a weight has been lifted off his chest with Azriel knowing, an even heavier weight has started to sink in his stomach.

For months, Nesta has been his alone. And the idea of opening their relationship up to others’ opinions and judgements...

“Cass?”

He breaks his death glare at Azriel to find Feyre standing over the couch. He blinks; when did she cross the room? “Yeah?”

“You okay?” She glances between him and Azriel, clear-cut concern in her eyes. “You’ve been a little out of it tonight.” These last several weeks, actually, he knows she’s thinking.

He pulls his best Nesta face, all emotion carefully hidden behind a wall so blank it’s almost dead. “I’m doing fine,” he says simply. “Don’t worry about me; worry about Rhys spending all of your money on cards tonight.”

When Feyre still looks hesitant, Cassian summons his signature smile, the one that puts everyone and their babies at ease. He knows he’s succeeded when Feyre’s shoulders sink and she smiles back, nudging him in the arm. “Alright,” she says begrudgingly. “Just don’t keep pulling that long face. It’s Christmas Eve.”

***

Nesta is still hiding out in the kitchen while Elain finishes up a roast chicken when Feyre wanders in, eager to play the doting host.

Nesta pauses in the middle of telling Elain what she got earlier today for Secret Santa, waiting for Feyre to interrupt or insert her opinion, but Feyre only leans against the kitchen entrance and waits for her to go on.

“... So I thought it was hideous, but she insisted I keep it,” Nesta finishes cautiously.

“Who insisted you keep what?” Feyre speaks up.

“My friend Emerie got me a Christmas sweater.” Nesta waves a hand. “It looks like it came out of the recycling bin of a thrift shop, but I think she legitimately expects me to wear it tomorrow.” She huffs a lighthearted laugh, remembering how she and Emerie had cackled over the tacky gift together.

She finds she doesn’t mind talking about Emerie to her sisters. Rather, it’s something that brings her pride, like how she imagines new parents talk about their babies.

“Ain’t that amazing?” Elain speaks from where she arranges the chicken onto a platter, her back turned to both sisters. “While we were worried this whole time about Nesta being holed up in her room, she’s been going out and making friends.” Her voice is tight with a forced cheerfulness that only their mother could have taught her. Nesta stiffens in her seat at the island.

“Oh,” Feyre says shortly, blinking. “I see.”

The easiness Nesta had from talking about her friends slips away, being replaced with her usual mask of steel and ice. “See what?”

“Nothing,” Feyre defends, moving to lean against the island across from her. “We barely ever speak anymore, Nesta. How are we supposed to know what goes on in your life these days?”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” Nesta says coldly.

“She’s also in therapy.” Elain still hasn’t turned around from the stove. “How exciting.”

Nesta whips her head toward Elain in disbelief at the information spilled. So she is angry at Nesta for avoiding her calls.

“Therapy?” Feyre looks taken aback. “For what?”

Elain swoops in before Nesta can choose between scoffing or rolling her eyes at Feyre’s question. “Who cares what it’s for?” She finally turns around, bracing her hands on the counter. “Does it even matter?”

Nesta tastes venom on her tongue, and it wants to be spit in her sisters’ direction. “If you have something you want to say, Elain, say it. The passive-aggressive act makes you look like a fake bitch.”

Elain flinches, and Feyre looks away to hide her tired disappointment. “We still can’t have a single conversation without you going from zero to a hundred, I see.”

You haven’t even seen a hundred yet. “Tell me,” Nesta demands. “What did I do to mortally wound you this time? Is it the fact that I have a life away from your incestuous circle, or am I missing something else?”

Feyre scoffs incredulously, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s the fact, Nesta, that you have it in yourself to be good to everyone except for your sisters! When it was just me you hated, I could accept it fine, but then you left Tennessee and shut Elain out, too. With no explanation.” Hurt dances across her face. “It’s been years and it’s only gotten worse. And after months of near silence you show up here like—like you would rather be part of any family except ours.”

She keeps saying we, like her and Elain’s feelings are one and the same. Like they’ve talked about this before.

Nesta crosses her arms. “So you are mad I have friends.”

“How is that your takeaway from this?” Feyre has to struggle to keep her voice down.

Nesta’s heated eyes cut to Elain, who’s been silent during this whole exchange. “And you agree with her? Or is there something else you’d like to add?”

Elain opens her mouth to respond, but Nesta doesn’t give her the chance. “If I haven’t changed, then neither have you two,” she seethes. “You still think this is the fucking Disney channel or something, where we’re all best friends who have sisterly sleepovers and text each other good night. Wake the fuck up,” she bares her teeth. “Stop expecting things from me and just be happy I’m alive and doing well— because that’s the bare minimum that I’ve always given you!”

But no matter what Nesta says or does, they will never understand her. She will never be enough for them. The realization sinks in with a rattling finality at the resigned look on Feyre and Elain’s faces: like they didn’t hear a word she said. Nesta wonders when they stopped listening.

A throat clears behind her, and she whirls to see Feyre’s boyfriend at the doorway. His pretty-boy face is drawn tight, barely hidden rage simmering in the violet of his eyes. “Pizza’s here,” he says curtly.

Elain blinks tears out of her eyes, spinning back to the counter to pick up the platter of chicken. “Of course,” she says quickly, “the rest of the food is ready too.”

Feyre leaves the kitchen first, then Elain, then Rhysand with a final deadly glare at Nesta.

Nesta doesn’t know how long she stands there in the same spot, unmoving. Only when her phone buzzes from the island countertop does she turn.

Gwyn: did u get me a vibrator for christmas???

***

Cassian hasn’t looked at her all night.

Nesta doesn’t know what she expected when she told him they couldn’t be together in public, but it wasn’t this: him, laughing and talking with everybody at the table save for her. Like she isn’t even sitting there.

Nothing has changed. Least of all her.

She swallows around a mouthful of dry meat, feeling herself slip back into that old, familiar role: the background character. Except tonight is different, because everyone saw Elain’s watery eyes and Rhysand’s furious stare when they left the kitchen, and now Nesta is being ignored on purpose.

The buzzing in her head is louder than any conversation going on at the table anyway. Whether her sisters would believe her or not, Nesta had made plans. Plans to call more often, to make amends for the years of radio silence, to reintroduce herself to Feyre and Elain as a better sister. Not now, but one day— when she finally learned how.

Plans that were all dashed in the span of one conversation. Her knuckles turn bone white around her fork. So much for getting better.

The longer the night goes on, the more hurt and rage swells in her chest, until she fears she can’t say a word without screaming. How long will it be like this between her and her sisters, between her and the world? As if Nesta owes them all one thing or another: her time, her energy, her best smile and her affections. Why does everything have to be an exchange, and why is she always the one giving something up?

Cassian is the one person who always let her be, adjusting to her whenever she couldn’t adjust to him. But she’s having trouble remembering that fact when he won’t even spare a glance her way. When he’s sitting there laughing with Mor in a way he never laughs with her.

“And what about you, girl?”

Amren’s voice drags Nesta out of her haze, and she realizes the woman is speaking to her.

Nesta doesn’t like the way Amren speaks— with barely hidden cruelty, like she takes joy in watching people squirm.

Nesta blinks. “What?”

A slow smile creeps up Amren’s red mouth. “I said,” she repeats, “are you finding the pay for your work at Night Court sufficient?”

“Amren,” Cassian starts, but Nesta is already on her feet. The table falls silent.

“I have to...” she mumbles unintelligibly. She can’t come up with an excuse. Shaking her head, she leaves the table without finishing her sentence. Leaves the dining room and the whole damn apartment.

***

The slam of the door shutting echoes through the penthouse. No one speaks for a long moment, and Cassian finds himself filling the silence: “Was that necessary, Amren?”

Amren sneers. “What did I do?”

Because he’s counting down the seconds until it’s acceptable to go after Nesta, Cassian indulges her. “Not everyone has it in them to play Mean Girls with you whenever you feel like it.”

“Yeah, but did she have to ruin dinner over it?” Mor snorts, reaching over and plucking a roasted Brussels sprout from Nesta’s nearly untouched plate.

Feyre stands up. “I’ll go after her—”

“Don’t bother,” Cassian says, earning a raised brow from Azriel. Elain looks inclined to agree with Cassian until he adds, “I’ll check on her. You don’t need to stress, Feyre.” With a reassuring smile, he pushes out of his seat and heads for the door.

Each casual step toward Nesta lasts a million years, but he finally reaches the hallway beyond the apartment, letting his facade drop in the same breath that the door shuts behind him. Relief wracks his body when he finds Nesta waiting for the elevator, still here.

“Nes,” he calls, hurrying after her.

She punches the elevator button repeatedly, as if that’ll get it to hurry up. He catches up to her and takes hold of her hand, turning her around—

She snatches her wrist out of his grip like she’s been burned, her fingers flexing with pent up emotion. “Not tonight, Cassian.”

“I’ll go home with you, you can tell me what’s wrong—”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?” he demands. She never shuts him out like this.

Nesta stares intently at the elevator doors. “Go back to forgetting I exist.” Her voice is flat.

He scoffs in disbelief. “You’re not serious—”

She whirls on him so quickly he almost stumbles back in surprise. “You didn’t look at me once the entire night.”

Cassian stills, stunned. Is that what this is about? “How could I have?” he laughs, shaking his head. “You’re the one who doesn’t want anyone knowing about us!”

“So you pretend I’m not there at all?” Hurt flares beneath her angered words.

“I can’t do both.” He fights to keep his voice low, aware of the thin walls. “I can’t look at you and not have everyone see what I feel for you— you’re all over me.” Even Azriel sees it, for God’s sake.

“What’s the truth, then?” she hisses. “Are you a terrible actor or a great one? Because in that apartment I forgot we were even in a relationship.”

“You walked in looking like that,” he gestures wildly at the black sheer mesh hugging her body, “and I was supposed to, what? Act like we were friends?” He hasn’t spent all night nearly losing his mind trying to fulfill Nesta’s wishes, trying not to let his feelings show, to get dragged through the mud for it.

“Is that your best excuse?” Nesta sneers. “I used to be too boring to spare a glance, and now I’m too sexy?” She steps closer to him, bringing them chest to chest. “We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world. That’s why we haven’t told anybody, Cassian.”

Cassian knows a spiral when he sees one, and he’s fighting not to get dragged into Nesta’s. “I know this isn’t about me.” He closes his eyes, praying for calm. “It’s about whatever happened with Feyre and Elain tonight.”

Which is the wrong thing to say, from the way Nesta’s face reddens. “Don’t even fucking go there.”

He doesn’t realize that the elevator has dinged open until Nesta reaches out her arm to stop the doors from closing. “You know nothing about me,” she says heatedly. “You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now. You haven’t. Learned. Anything.”

Cassian almost wishes she would scream senseless things at him like she used to do whenever she was upset— because this refined wrath of hers is so much more hurtful. And it makes him angry, too.

He leans in until his nose is brushing hers. “If this is one of those things where you try to push me away by being cruel, I’m not fucking buying it.”

Like a switch is flipped, the flame in Nesta’s eyes flares out. He sees that dead nothingness and knows he’s lost. “You don’t have to buy it,” she says simply. She steps onto the waiting elevator, and he doesn’t try stopping her. She doesn’t want to be stopped.

Nesta gives him a final look before the doors shut between them. “And I wore this dress for you, asshole.”

Cassian stands there long after she’s gone. Not knowing what to do next.

A muffled laugh breaks through to him from the other side of the walls, and he realizes that everyone has moved back into the living room. Turning around, he goes back inside to his friends.

***

;)

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#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic

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sunflovverharry · 4 years ago

Text

Driving Home for Christmas

a/n: hii! i wanted to make this a super cute dad!h during christmas fic so i hope you enjoy! this fic is a part of @goldenbluesuit ´s christmas song fic challenge which i’m honored to be a part of! It's the first fic challenge I’ve entered and I’ve been nervous to post something along with all these other amazing writers, but I'm excited to post this little piece centered in the dad universe. Happy reading, and remember to read the rest of the entries as well (which I’ve read some these past two weeks and they’re fab!) <3

pairing: dad!h + y/n

warnings: none! just a cute dad!h piece

word count: 3.8k

Harry was loading the trunk of their Audi, putting all their packed suitcases and bags of presents in there. The car was smack full as this year they had another addition to their family, waiting patiently for her mum to feed her before they left the city. It was snowing heavily and Anne made sure they knew they didn’t have to drive up today with the weather making the roads worse than usual. Y/n also told him a hundred times it was his decision as he was the one driving. Harry didn’t budge though, telling his mum they would definitely be there by tonight.

This year's Christmas celebrations were being spent in Cheshire with Harry’s family seeing as they were with her family in Nottingham last year. They’ve found it works best this way rather than splitting it up to go both places every year. After four years together and buying a house at the start of this year, y/n thinks this might be the last Christmas spent out of their own home. They have their two cats (Nellie and Sunny) and having their first child it might be time to start celebrating the holiday at their own house.

«Babe, did you remember to pack the board games?» Harry heard his girlfriend ask from the threshold where they had hung a mistletoe and had Harry not been busy trying to make everything fit, he definitely would’ve turned around, ran up to her and gave her a big smack on the lips. He settled for giving her a thumbs up not swirling around as he was too busy trying to figure out how he could make most of their things fit in the trunk, thinking it was just like a game of tetris. While Harry had been doing the heavy lifting and packing; y/n had put a cute Christmas onesie on the still tiny body of their daughter, definitely small for her age but she was eating like her daddy so where the weight went they had no idea.

Olive was a generally happy, cuddly baby who more often than not reached for her dad over her mum. It didn’t bother y/n that she was a daddy’s girl, knowing how much Harry loves children and now that he has his own he’s all over her. She finds the two cuddled together on the sofa, their bed or the armchair in her nursery at least a couple times a day. Her phone is now overflowing with photos of the two and she’s hoping to put together a photo album for Harry’s birthday filled with them - knowing he’d cherish it forever.

Half an hour later they were pulling out of the driveway. Harry had checked multiple times that all the lights were out, the doors were locked and the alarm system was functioning properly. Olive was smiling as she sat still in her car seat behind y/n. She had wondered if sitting in the back with her daughter would be better, but decided against it. If she got fussy they’d stop at a gas station and she’d move to the back.

The couple was tremendously excited to bring along their little bundle of happiness and get to show her off to all of Harry’s family and friends. Of course, his family have seen her when she was a newborn but living quite far away most of them only get to see them once or twice a year. It’ll change the dynamic of how they celebrate the holidays for sure, but it's a positive change. Anne will spoil her rotten, just like she does to y/n when they visit - making her tea whenever she wants some, washing their dirty laundry (which y/n didn’t care that her mother-in-law saw her underwear cause she didn’t bring anything too scandalous) and heading to the shops when they needed even the smallest thing. Really, y/n thought she was too kind for her own good. At the same time though, y/n always did play a good host when Anne visited them - spoiling her with the comfiest bed sheets, making the food for every meal, not wanting her to lift a finger as if she was the queen.

Olive was eight months - a fairly active one at that - and loves to crawl everywhere, especially to follow her mum or dad around the lower floor of their (way too big) house for only the three (five) of them. Since the pair hadn’t brought Olive with them for such a long drive, the longest being an hour, they were anxious to find out how she’d react to being confined over a longer period of time.

Half an hour in and Olive was babbling away to the teddy bear in her arms (she got it from her nephews when she was born and has been attached to it since) as Harry and y/n talked about how excited they were for their daughter to explore her daddy´s hometown and how his whole family and friends would fall in love with Olive even more. With their little girl just starting to sleep all through the night in her own room, Anne wanted to make sure she got her own room at her nana's too, so apparently she’s cleaned the office and made it into a makeshift nursery for her granddaughter.

Y/n doesn’t know who’s more excited to see all the familiar faces, the family that’s become not only important to her in the last four years, but now also to their baby. The last time they visited Cheshire, y/n was barely two months pregnant and as tough as it was to keep it hidden from Anne for another month, they managed to keep it to the two of them (with just a handful of slip-ups). They were sure Anne knew they were having a baby with the small smirks she gave y/n and harry when she didn’t want the wine - Harry keeping to non-alcoholics in solidarity with her - which was unregular for her, normally jumping on the thought of having a glass or two after a long day.

“You know mum won’t give her up after she gets her hands on her right as we walk through the front door? Might want to hop in the back and get your fix before we get there.” Harry let out a chuckle with y/n joining in knowing just how true his words were. Anne was a godsend of a grandmother, taking Olive in her arms doting over her until she’ll start crying for her daddy. Though everyone gives her all the attention she could wish for, no one could ever do what Harry can. He’s her favorite, no matter how much I wish I could be.

Another half hour later and we were making our first stop at a local gas station in Aylesbury. We were about a third of the way in, but the weather was getting harsher with the snow falling harder and the wind picking up just a little bit. While Harry filled the car up with gas and made sure Olive didn’t start fussing, y/n went inside to get a couple snacky items for the three of them and a filled up cup of coffee for her boyfriend. Coming out of the station she could see Harry in the back with his love bug, bringing her out of the car seat as her cute little wails haltered. She was due for a feed, so they found a secluded space to park so no one would stare at her while breastfeeding their daughter.

Sitting in the front passenger seat with her daughter attached to her nipple with her baby daddy sitting in the driver's seat next to her they spent the next twenty minutes singing along to the Christmas songs playing one after the other on the radio.

Y/n had always loved this time of year - the snow, the songs (which - admittedly - she listened to throughout the entire year), the decorations, the joy and cheer. With y/n and Harry moving in together a month before Christmas, only half a year after they first began dating, they had a mutual understanding for how they would go all out with lights, trees and decorations both on the inside and outside. Though their house was gated with a high fence along the perimeter of their entire land. The trees lining the driveway all the way from the gate to where the gravel road extends into two, one leading to the garage and the other to the front door, were now lit up with strings of light going through them. It was only the beginning to their decorations, but it couldn’t be seen from the gate. More lights were lit along the house, windows were accentuated by red tape creating squares with spray along it, making it seem like snow on the glass. Though there aren’t tons of colourful lights, outside at least, the inside is littered with different colours, shining and sparkling along the staircases, mantels, dressers, counters and tables.

Olive felt like there was something new to look at, touch and be amazed by in every room of their house. As the clock sets seven in the morning, like clockwork, Harry hears Olive’s wails for him to get her out of the crib so she can move around. He kisses y/n’s forehead as he lets her sleep for another half hour to an hour like every morning before pulling on a pair of boxers and some pajama pants if it’s cold to get his daughter from her nursery across the hall.

The two of them were like two giggling girlfriends when they finally saw each other for the first time that day, not being able to keep their smiles from their similar lips. Walking downstairs Olive points at the garland wrapping the staircase and every time she sees it, a small sound of surprise and excitement exit her puckered lips. Harry talks to her about how good her mama is at decorating their house and how good it looks good for Christmas (he only helped her put up decorations, following her direct orders). Y/n had a certain way she liked to decorate and with this being the first Christmas in their house she wanted everything to look perfect.

Coming into the kitchen after turning the dimmed lights on low to have some lighting in the morning dark they had a little shimmy along the floor. Olive babbled along with Harry’s singing and mumbling to her explaining how the buttons on the walls turned on the different lights. She probably didn’t understand or care about the lights, but the two continued singing and talking about nonsense along the way. In the kitchen, Harry made her a bottle she demanded having before getting started on the omelette he makes for him and y/n every morning he’s home without fail.

When they finally got back on the road the snow was coming down heavily and the only thing they could see were the lines of cars in front of them on the M40 pushing the break every few seconds before accelerating again moving only a couple meters before breaking again. Y/n didn’t have a lot of patience in traffic - or in general - and quickly became annoyed making Harry laugh at her telling her to calm down (she wasn’t even the one who had to drive through this horrible weather). This lasted for another forty-five minutes before the snow let up just a little bit and the cars seemed to roll along the road like normal.

“I didn’t think driving home for Christmas would take this long. At least, I hoped it wouldn’t.” They’d been on the road since nine thirty this morning and now, two and a half hours later, they still have at least another two hours left until they’re at Anne’s. It wasn’t unusual for y/n to call Anne’s home, having stayed there for weeks at a time during the almost five years her and Harry have known each other. Harry isn’t unknown to calling y/n’s parents’ house his home either.

“I know. Wish it didn’t have to take this long and I’m sure little Ollie is going to get antsy soon. If the weather continues like this and we don’t have to take more than one more break, I think we’ll be there within three hours, but if we run into traffic, we might have to take more stops along the way.” Harry wanted to move along quickly to get to his mum’s before Olive’s nap time around three, if she didn’t end up sleeping in the car. We knew when we decided to drive in the morning that Olive would probably stay up the whole way, too engrossed with the cars and lights along the way to ever be able to fall asleep.

“You know what we should do to keep her happy for another half hour at least?” Y/n turned to look at Harry with a smile grazing her lips. “Play some Christmas music! She loves when we sing and dance around the house.” Playing the memories of hearing Olive’s belly laughter through the house while Harry and her danced in circles around her like another pair of idiots.

Putting on the same Christmas song list they’ve played since making it together all those years ago, the first song coming on shuffle being Santa Claus is Coming to Town. The noise was at a comfortable volume so they could still hear Olive if she started fussing though it’s unlikely and for it to not be too disturbing for Harry’s driving. With Olive seated with her back to them she couldn’t see her mummy dancing in her seat while they sang along to song after song, but she heard her parents’ voices singing out to the songs she’s heard oh so many times before.

“This is accurate, huh?” Harry snickered as Driving Home for Christmas began playing through the speakers.

“You don’t say.” It was one of their favorite songs and it fit the scene they were in, driving home for Christmas, excited to see their family, singing along the slowly getting better traffic. Looking around at the cars next to them, most of them looked to be families also driving home to be with their families for this year's holiday celebrations.

The rest of the drive was filled with more singing, two more stops for Harry to give his baby some cuddles and walking around one of the local Tesco’s they stopped at to get some more drinks and snacks. Olive was waving at everyone walking past us and talking all kinds of gibberish. While y/n grabbed the snacks, Harry had Olive walking along the aisles in between his feet while holding her little hands in his following her around the store.

A quarter to three they finally made it to Anne’s home, reversing into the driveway so they could get their baggage inside easier later in the day. Y/n saw Anne open the front door in the rearview mirror when Harry was pulling in the last meters. There was a bright smile on her face when we got out of the car. The snow had laid thick on the ground up north and the slick ice underneath made it harder to walk without having to make sure every step was carefully thought out.

Just minutes later Olive was already crawling with her little legs all over her grandma’s home, interested in anything and everything she could get her chubby hands on not seeming to be tired at all. They decided to forgo her nap and hope for an early night, which isn’t likely with everything going on around her. Anne was on granny duties right away telling the pair to sit down and relax with the tea she had prepared while she took care of the baby. There was no doubt she loved the attention from the person she might not remember from this summer but quickly became attached to, almost as much as she is to her daddy.

Harry found his place on the sofa, head in y/n’s lap and feet hanging over the armrest demanding her fingers curling through his locks. It wasn’t surprising to her that he was tired from driving the entirety of the way in traffic and tightly packed snow at times. Sure, if needed he could have stayed awake, but with his mum taking care of his little love he didn’t care much, falling asleep to his other love combing her fingers through his hair. It didn’t happen too often that they could have a cuddle in the middle of the day - just the two of them - with Olive needing their attention at all hours of the day so when the opportunity arose he wasn’t going to turn it down. He admits, though this is nice as well, that a naked cuddle in bed would definitely top laying on the sofa with his mum and daughter running around them. Maybe tonight, he thinks, as he finally falls asleep to the sound of Olive’s giggles.

As nighttime inched closer and Olive’s bedtime was passing them in the chatter and laughter, y/n told Harry to get their things from the car while she nurses Olive before getting her ready for bed. While they took care of their daughter, Anne made a nice spread of cheese and crackers for them to indulge tonight while catching up on everything that’s been going on in their lives since the last time she visited them in London.

Harry found Olive’s bag first, choosing a pair of christmassy pajamas from the mountain of clothes they had brought for her. Y/n walked upstairs to the nursery Anne had set up, seeing Harry already unpacking her bags into the cute vintage turquoise chiffonier Anne had bought from a neighbour only a couple weeks ago immediately falling in love with it.

«Would you like to have a cuddle with daddy before bed, Ollie?» Y/n firmly believed her daughter needed the nightly cuddle from Harry, just like she does, to fall asleep. She was already reaching out for him with her nimble hands waiting for him to take her in for a snuggle in his arms. There was no armchair in the makeshift nursery like they had purchased for Olive’s nursery back home where they always sat but Harry made it work. Anything for a cuddle with his baby growing way too quick for his liking.

It was no secret Harry loved babies and that only heightened when he had his own baby. With how good Olive is and how lush it’s been having a baby around and it not be just the two of them, he had thought about what it would be like with another baby around. Another little love for them to have, give Olive a sister or brother to play with. He hadn’t said anything to y/n about the thoughts he’d been having, not knowing if she'd agree with him. It’s been eight months and when they had talked about it before they agreed on a maximum of two years between their children.

Only a couple hours later they headed to bed themselves, ready for a good night's sleep before another long day tomorrow. Harry had been debating with himself whether he was going to mention babies to y/n or not - ultimately ended up with yes, he would mention it. Now they were finally alone with y/n resting her head on Harry’s pillow, her fingers delicately drawing patterns on his chest.

“I have something I’d like to discuss with you.” Harry’s voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper, not wanting to ruin the calmness around them. He wasn’t nervous so to say, but he felt his pulse quicken the tiniest bit at the thought of getting turned down. Y/n turned her head to watch Harry as he pulled her in as close as he could without suffocating her.

“It’s been lovely having Olive, right? Seems like it was meant to be to have a baby and during the holidays it’s been so fun watching her so interested in everything.” Y/n murmured her answer. She had loved having a little one to care for and to fill their days with joy over the last eight months.

“Well, with how well it’s been going with her, I was thinking we could talk about having another little one? Maybe discuss it a bit. What do you say, let's make Ollie a big sister?”

“I think we might be well on the way to making her a sister, bub.” Harry turned his head at lightning speed hearing her words, not knowing if he heard her quite right. His open mouth and big round eyes weren’t something she saw often combined as she wasn’t always the best at surprising him, but this time she was sure her secret had come as a big shock. It wasn’t as if they had been trying for a baby either, only forgetting a condom a handful times when they were too in the moment to care for it.

She found out only a week ago, thinking she could keep it to herself until Christmas day. It wasn’t difficult to hide it from him, not struggling with morning sickness and only craving sweets as if she was on her period. Knowing they had agreed on the number of children they wanted - four - she wasn’t scared of him reacting badly.

“You’re not joking, right?” Harry smashed his lips onto his girlfriends when she shook her head - no, i’m not joking - kissing her slow and long, showing her just how happy he was. They spent the night talking about how thrilled and excited they were to expand their family with more children and how great of a sister Olive would be. Baby names were flying between them, agreeing to never naming one of their babies after a city, but rather continuing naming them something more unique than Chloe or Adam.

The rest of the holiday spent up north with Harry’s family was relaxing and lovely all around. Playing board games, exploring the city with Olive (who was way too fascinated by all the snow), family dinner parties and having fun with friends they didn’t get to see all too often. Olive was wiped out after opening her presents on Christmas morning and spending all her energy on all the toys she got and the paper ripping she played with (more than the toys to be honest).

This year had been special for the family and Christmas was just the same. Olive was lively and it made y/n and Harry exhausted with everything going on, but they wouldn’t change it for the world. After all, Olive was their little girl and soon there would be another little love in their family. Trying to keep the pregnancy from their family and friends was easier this time around as she could blame not drinking alcohol on her breastfeeding and decided they would keep it hidden from everyone until the last possible minute.

#gbsxmaschallenge #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles drabble #harry styles fiction #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #fic challenge #harry styles x oc #harry styles x yn #writing

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wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse · 4 years ago

Text

Wishes (Aragorn x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 2207 Warnings: ANGST

AHHH OK so this fic was made in collaboration with @hey-its-nonny and it was so fun to write!

You woke in a restored Gondor, eyes fluttering open at the beams of golden sunlight seeping through your window. The day you‘d dreaded for months had finally come. It was the day Aragorn was to be wed to his love, Arwen.

You rose, already mourning your loss of your friend and your love. You didn’t know how you could stay, concealed in the dark. Hiding. Ignoring your emotions and acting as if they didn’t exist was a difficult task. But, if it meant Aragorn would be happy, you would try your best, unsure of what might come of it.

Slowly, you slid on your dress, the silky fabric brushing your legs. It was a beautiful gown, one that Arwen had made especially for you. It fit perfectly, snug around your waist and flaring out. In your favorite color, too.

The necklace Aragorn had given you laid heavily on your neck. It felt wrong to be wearing it to this event, but without it, you didn't feel whole.

And with a look in the mirror, you sighed, a saddened smile gracing your lips while you prepared yourself for what would be one of the saddest days of your life.

You thought back to a better time when everything was easier. When your love for Aragorn had bloomed.

It was a cold night. You and Aragorn had gone on yet another adventure together through the hours of the night. After plenty of frolicking and distractions, you’d both agreed that it was time to eat.

You’d decided a warm soup was the way to go, and Aragorn agreed with you on that as well. And while you waited for your meals, you talked around pointless things, avoiding the affection that was blossoming.

You were teasing him, pushing him around, baiting him. When he finally retaliated, he accidentally hit your soup out of your hands. The target for the food? your clothes. Your shirt was covered, and you stifled a laugh while Aragorn looked mortified.

You winced a bit at how hot your soup was, as well as the fact that you could no longer eat it, since it was so elegantly spilled on your shirt.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. Here, let me- I can-” The poor man rambled, looking for a cloth to dry your shirt. You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, though the fiery wrath of the soup was definitely a contender for your attention.

Yet still, you laughed, opening your bag with a hum. “Aragorn, I’m sure I have a spare shirt in my pa- What? Where is it?” You quietly gasped, Aragorn’s eyes brightening.

“Take mine, Y/N. I have a spare.” He stated, the red on his cheeks dissipating.

Your gentle hands gingerly grasped the shirt as you stood, sharply inhaling at the temperature of the soup. “I’ll be back.”

After a minute or two, you walked over to the table and sat down, cozier than ever in Aragorn’s off-white shirt. You offered a smile and caught Aragorn’s eye, his shocked expression warming your cheeks. “It is a little big, I will admit, but it will do until I get a fresh change of clothing.” You grinned, biting back a smile.

“Keep it.” Aragorn smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the slightest and sweetest of ways. “It looks better on you than it looked on me.” He stated, inhaling a breath after stealing another glance at you.

You still had that shirt, after all the time that passed.

Those were fond memories you had of him, but fleeting. You smoothed your dress down and slipped on your shoes. Another memory came to haunt you, the emotions overwhelming.

You were wandering Rivendell when you heard a giggle. You had turned a corner, finding Aragorn, his lips glued to Arwen’s. You cleared your throat, causing them to break apart, looking at you sheepishly.

Arwen spoke softly, “Oh, I am sorry about that. We didn’t know anyone else would come here.” Of course, she didn’t know that Aragorn and you had spent many hours in this same place. You avoided his gaze and hid your emotion, laughing instead.

“Oh I have so many things I could say, but most important of all, I could tell everyone!” You paraded around them, joking of course. They laughed along, not truly seeing how much this hurt you. And you would keep it that way.

The decorations were beautiful. You gazed upon the arch that Aragorn was to be wed under, trailing down the cascading vines and flowers. You counted at least a hundred guests.

If it weren’t for the emotions you felt at the moment, you might have smiled just because of how beautiful everything looked.

The bells rang, signifying that the ceremony would start soon, and you took a sharp breath. Your stomach churned like you were about to face the armies of Mordor alone. But it wasn’t the time to be afraid. It was time to be Aragorn’s friend.

The very man that your thoughts were formed around jogged up to you, handsome as ever. His armor contrasted his eyes beautifully, and the smile he wore made you melt.

“Y/N. Just the woman I wished to see.” He grinned, placing a hand on your shoulder while you returned the smile.

You hummed, straightening your back. “What do you need?” You asked, ready to do whatever he needed.

“A friend.” He replied, indicating that he was nervous.

“You’ll be fine, Aragorn.” You smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Everything will go smoothly, I assure you.”

The man nodded, a dreadful sigh escaping his lips once the bells rang again. Of all the things you’d said today, the three words that left your lips were some of the hardest to get out. “Go get her.”

Once everyone was settled, the ceremony began with Elrond giving Arwen away. You watched Aragorn closely, the way his eyes lit up when Arwen was unveiled, the pure love and devotion he had for her nearly killing you. You had no idea it would be this hard. Tears pricked at your eyes when they kissed and you were glad you could blame it on the “beauty” of the moment.

You watched Aragorn lead Arwen down the aisle, each step a dagger in your chest. No matter how strong you wanted to be for Aragorn, you couldn’t watch this any longer. Your strained smile slowly disappeared as they walked out of sight. You had to get out of there.

So, when he wasn’t looking, you quietly slipped away, allowing the tears to finally fall. What you didn’t know, however, was that he saw you walk away, more confused and worried than ever.

Once you were far enough, you broke into a sprint. You needed to get as far away from there as fast as you could. You slipped your shoes off, the cold and roughness of the stone adding to your anguish. Upon reaching the garden, you sobbed, collapsing onto the stone ground where you once stood. You couldn’t control it. Your shoulders softly shook as you cried, feeling nothing but sorry for yourself. You thought you could watch Aragorn give a special part of himself to Arwen. You really did. But you couldn’t.

And you hated yourself for it. You held your head in your hands, sniffling quietly into the silence. You never got to tell him how much better he made you. You never got to hug him as Arwen would. You never got to laugh at his flirtatious jokes like Arwen would be able to. You never got to kiss him as Arwen would. But then again, why would he ever kiss someone like you? You weren’t even half as pretty as her.

Too lost in your own sorrow, you didn’t hear Aragorn’s footsteps approaching. Something about rangers, they always knew how to stay quiet and test the situation. Upon seeing you, he removed his crown, kneeling beside you with worry written on his sharp features. “Y/n? Y/n, why are you upset?” The worried man asked, gently grasping your trembling shoulders.

You flinched under the touch, shrinking away from the touch. “It is nothing, Mellon. Please, go be with yo- Arwen. Were you not just betrothed?” You asked, wiping away the salty teardrops on your cheeks.

While you stood to leave, Aragorn mimicked your actions, blocking your exit. “Y/n, please. I only wish to help,” He pleaded, following your gaze. He gently grabbed your chin, sending a shiver down your spine while he forced you to look at him.

“Aragorn, please let me go.” You sniffled, lip quivering while your eyes begged him to leave.

Aragorn frowned, giving one final attempt at helping you. He couldn’t know. He could never know. “Was it Arwen? Gandalf? I do not know what could have upset you in such a way.” He frowned, brow creased in worry.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. No more games, or guessing, or hiding from it. You’d tried so hard, only for it all to come crashing down in flames before your eyes. “It’s you, Aragorn!” You cried, hot tears streaming down your cheeks while throwing your hands out.

You laughed a sad laugh, backing away from the man you’d loved for countless years. “It’s always been you.” You croaked weakly, your voice brittle and defeated. Aragorn was still confused. He cautiously stepped forward, taking your hands in his own. “Y/n, what do you mean?” He asked, clearly worried that he’d hurt you in some way.

You shook your head, biting your lip while you trained your gaze on the ground. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just-” You smiled, shaking your head as you met his gaze. “Just go be with her. You need to be with her.”

But instead of walking away, Aragorn shook his head. “Y/n, we cannot keep circling amongst each other like this. Please, tell me what I’ve done to hurt you.” He pleaded, worry and remorse engraved in his expression.

You took a shaky breath, tearing up once again. “I can’t, Aragorn.” You admitted, the cost of saying the words far more than you were willing to give. “If I do, I will have to leave.” You choked, willing away the tears.

Aragorn sighed, determination set in his jaw. “Whatever you are facing, Y/n, whatever comes, I will face it beside you.” He stated, confidence and truth behind the words. You hated how perfect he was. Always an amazing friend, but not for much longer.

Finally, after a minute of silence, you decided that if you were going to leave Gondor for the rest of your days, you might as well make it memorable. “Forgive me, Aragorn.” You pleaded, leaning in to steal a kiss from Aragorn.

He hummed in surprise, but didn’t back away, eyes fluttering shut. You relished in the feeling, your hand on his warm, stubbly cheek. It was incredible. Until the both of you realized what was happening. You gasped, backing away from the kiss. “I-“ You stammered, quickly going into a panic. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” You breathed, stumbling out of the garden.

You felt like such an idiot. All of the nights wasted in tears rushing back to haunt you as you ran away from the love you’d held onto so dearly. You ran as fast as you could for the forest, clutching the necklace Aragorn had given you. Habit.

Little did you know, Aragorn decided to run after you, desperate to clean up the mess you’d made. You ran, skillfully weaving throughout the trees to lose Aragorn.

Once you thought you were far enough, you leaned against a tree, dirt marks along your arms and legs. That was the last time you would ever see Aragorn. You wasted it. So, you cried. Then you decided you would move on. Start over.

Aragorn approached, careful not to startle you. You looked up, resting your head against the tree with an irritated sigh. “I can’t stay.” You whispered, your defeated tone letting Aragorn know just how much of a toll this took on you.

Aragorn frowned, the glisten of a tear catching your eye. “Why? We can forget it happened, Y/n. We can make this right.” He suggested, a pleading in his voice that you’d only heard a handful of times. It hurt.

“We can’t. I have to leave.” You replied, forcing yourself to look at him. “I love you, Aragorn. I always have and will. Nothing can ever change that. So, unless you have miraculously realized that it is not Arwen, but me you love, which I highly doubt, I’m leaving.” You explained, standing with a sigh, knowing Aragorn would try to follow.

He stood, watching while you unclasped the necklace Aragorn gave you. “Goodbye, Aragorn.” You spoke defeatedly, gently grasping his hands to place the necklace in them.

“Y/n, anything you wish, I will do. Just stay.” He asked one final time, slow tears falling down his cheeks.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wiping away his tears with your thumb. “I wish I were Arwen.” And with that, you walked away, thankful that Aragorn didn’t try to follow.

taglist: @lady-latte

#Aragorn #aragorn x reader #lotr #lotr writing

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4stars-uswnt · 4 years ago

Text

My Rock [Christen Press x Reader]

requested by anon: Could you maybe write one where R is dating christen. R is always finding pretty rocks on the sidewalk and stuff and giving them to christen. The team always teases her but one day during a match the reader “finds” a rock and proposes to Christen in front of the sidelines?

A/N: this request was so freaking cute. i absolutely loved it!

“Chris!” You chase after your girlfriend, holding a small rock you’d found on the sidewalk. “Look at this one! It reminds me of your eyes.” Beaming, you hand the speckled green rock over to your girlfriend.

“Thanks, babe.” Christen giggles, kissing your cheek.

“(Y/N), that’s like the fifth one you’ve found that ‘looks like Christen’s eyes’ and we’re not even halfway back to the hotel.” Tobin jokes.

“You should see her whenever she’s in Utah. It takes us forever to get places because (Y/N) always finds cool rocks everywhere.” Kelley quips, smirking at your blushing cheeks.

“How many rocks has (Y/N) given you, Chris?” Alex teases, as you hide your face in the crook of your girlfriend’s neck.

“I dunno. I honestly lost track after like a hundred or so.” Christen chuckles at your embarrassment.

“I can’t help it. I find a pretty rock, and I give it to a pretty lady.” You confess. “Plus, they’re good little pieces of our relationship and a reminder for Chris that I’m always with her even when I’m not.”

Your teammates internally soften at that, not fully understanding your obsession with collecting rocks until now.

“So, do you actually keep all the rocks?” Megan asks your girlfriend, genuinely curious.

Christen nods. “A lot of them are used as decoration around our apartment, some of them I take with me when I travel, and the rest are just in a box under my bed.”

You can’t help but swoon, hearing that your girlfriend has kept every single rock you’d given her. You had seen the special ones that Christen had put in your bedroom or in the kitchen, but you hadn’t known she’d still had all of them.

—————

The next day, after practice, the USWNT piled onto the bus. After a couple of minutes, there was still no sign of a single midfielder.

“Where the heck is (Y/N/N)? I’m trying to get some food!” Sonnett yells from the back of the bus.

“Press! Where’s your girlfriend?” Kelley pops up from her seat. Before Christen could answer, you stumble up the steps.

“Sorry! I got a little caught up.” You squeak, both of your hands full of stones. Hurrying into your seat, you spill the rocks onto your lap, wanting to show your girlfriend what you’d found for her.

“Got enough rocks there, (Y/N/N)?” Ash calls out.

“Seriously, dude, what’s the occasion?” Tobin laughs.

You roll your eyes, ignoring your teammates teasing, as you explain to the brunette forward why you chose each one. Throughout the ride back to the hotel, the team pokes fun at you, before Christen waves them off, verbally hushing the bus.

“This one reminded me of Morena and Khaleesi. This one looks like that tree we saw on our hike last month. Oh! And this one is one of my favorites: it’s the same color as your mom’s eyes. And this one is just pretty…” You trailed off, practically shaking with excitement.

Christen beamed, her eyes twinkling. She always loved it when you gave her a new rock, especially when you had a story or explanation for them.

—————

Later that night, as you’re getting ready for bed, you notice a couple of the rocks and pebbles you’d given Christen on the dresser.

“Babe?”

Christen walks out of the bathroom, still drying her hair. “Yeah?”

“You said earlier that you travel with some of the rocks that I’ve given you. Can I ask which ones?” You gesture over to the dresser.

“Sure.” She softly smiles, bringing them over to the bed. “Whenever I travel for national team camps or for away games, I always bring these five with me: the one from our first date, this one from our first kiss, when we first said ‘I love you,’ and the ones from our first and second anniversary.”

You give her a watery smile, your heart swelling full of love for the woman in front of you.

“I love you so much.” You whisper, as you pull into a soft kiss.

“I love you, too.” Christen smiles, kissing your nose. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go to sleep.” She snuggles closer to your side and pulls the blankets over the two of you, as you drift into a deep sleep.

—————

That weekend, the team was preparing for their CONCACAF Olympic Qualifying final match against Canada on Sunday. Everyone was feeling pretty good about it, seeing as you’d been playing incredibly, easily defeating your opponents. You, yourself, felt confident about your game throughout this tournament, scoring three goals and getting five assists in only four games. Despite the high spirits, the team was still focused and serious, as they made their way into the locker room, considering it was a game versus Canada, their international rival.

“Here you go.” You tap Christen’s shoulder, holding out a small round pebble you’d found outside the stadium.

“What’s this one for?” Your girlfriend smiles, turning to face you.

“Good luck. Not that you’ll need it” You peck her lips, giving her a wink before heading to your locker.

“Thanks, babe.” She calls after you, chuckling under her breath. As she puts your little gift away in her bag, Christen can hear Kelley teasing you.

“Hey! Where’s my good luck rock?”

“Score a couple goals and then maybe you’ll get one.” You taunt the defender, as you make your way out into the tunnel, Kelly chasing after you.

—————

As the ref blows the halftime whistle, you quickly grab something from your bag, before going to meet your girlfriend at the sideline.

“Hey!” You grab Christen’s attention, stopping her from heading back to the locker room.

“What?” She gives you a puzzled look. By now, the rest of the team also stopped to watch what you had up your sleeve.

Bending down onto one knee, you look up at the love of your life. “I found you another rock.” With that, you pull out a black box from your pocket, opening it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring.

Christen gasps, bringing her hands to cover her mouth, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

“Christen Annemarie Press,” You start. “The past two years that we’ve spent together have been an absolute gift. You constantly amaze and inspire me with your beauty and your soul. You have been my best friend through the good and the bad, and I can honestly say you’ve made me a better person.”

You pause to take a deep breath, taking Christen’s left hand in yours.

“Thank you for loving me for who I am, and thank you for believing in me when no one else would. You truly have been my rock.” At that, you hear a few chuckles coming from your teammates and Christen herself. “You have shown me how to love with passion, purity, and unconditional acceptance. I know that forever is nowhere near enough time to spend loving you, but I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. So, Chris, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Of course!” Christen bursts, unable to contain her happiness, tears streaming down her face. Grinning, you stand up to pull your fiancée into a searing kiss, slipping the ring onto her finger.

Pulling apart, you rest your foreheads against each other. “I love you.” She whispers.

“I love you, too. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” You kiss her again.

Your intimate moment is soon interrupted by your teammates, who’ve now gathered around you, smushing you two into a huge group hug. After many congratulations, screams, and hugs, Vlatko signals that you do in fact have to head back to the locker room for the halftime talk. The team bounces down the tunnel, excitement from the proposal radiating off of everyone.

You and Christen trail behind the team, hoping to bask in your new engagement. Bringing your intertwined hands up to your lips, you place a kiss to the back of her hand.

“You’re amazing. I can’t wait to call you my wife.” Christen gushes.

“I can’t wait either. I love you so much.” You kiss her cheek, as the two of you enter the locker room. “But let’s go kick Canada’s ass.” You smirk, as you sit at your locker. Your fiancée huffs out a laugh, going to her own seat across the room from you.

Before heading back out onto the field, Christen puts her ring away, adding her new favorite rock to the collection she’d gathered over the years of your relationship with many more to come in the future.

—————

Liked by tobinheath, ashlynharris24, and 251,914 others

christenpress: She keeps me grounded. She keeps me going. She’s my rock. Now and forever.

tagged: yourusername

- - - - -

uswnt: Congratulations, Christen and (Y/N)! What a nice halftime surprise.

kelleyohara: The best rock she’s given you

yourusername: You’re my favorite person in the entire world.

mrapinoe: Love the two of you

ashlynharris24: Time to celebrate! 🥳

alikrieger: Can’t wait to see what the future holds

tobinheath: ❤️

cdunn19: Yes girl!

glennondoyle: I am so excited for the two of you. Hope to see you both soon so we can celebrate!

↳abbywambach: Congratulations!!

—————

Liked by alexmorgan13, allie_long_, and 985,463 others

yourusername: A real gem 💎

tagged: christenpress

- - - - -

uswnt: She truly is.

christenpress: I love you ❤️

alexmorgan13: It’s about time! Congrats! 🎉

kelleyohara: Still waiting on my rock…

↳allie_long_: Same. I want a rock like Christen’s

malpugh: Aw, pretty Chris

lindseyhoran10: How are you already getting married?

emilysonnett: She’s a diamond in the rough ;)

julieertz: Congratulations! Can’t wait to celebrate more

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #christen press x reader #christen press imagine #christen press imagines #uswnt #christen press

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hey-its-nonny · 4 years ago

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Wishes

Aragorn x reader

okay this will be my last angsty fic i promise

I’m excited to announce that this fic is a collaboration! i wrote this with @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse and i am super pleased with it!

chap. six of In Between is out, so be sure to check that out. ANYWAYS this is inspired by the song Heather by Conan Gray :)

let the heartbreak commence <3

~~~~~

The necklace Aragorn had given you laid heavily on your neck. It felt wrong to be wearing it to this event, but without it, you didn't feel whole.

And with a look in the mirror, you sighed, a saddened smile gracing your lips while you prepared yourself for what would be one of the saddest days of your life.

You thought back to a better time when everything was easier. When your love for Aragorn had bloomed.

You winced a bit at how hot your soup was, as well as the fact that you could no longer eat it, since it was so elegantly spilled on your shirt.

Yet still, you laughed, opening your bag with a hum. “Aragorn, I’m sure I have a spare shirt in my pa- What? Where is it?” You quietly gasped, Aragorn’s eyes brightening.

“Take mine, Y/N. I have a spare.” He stated, the red on his cheeks dissipating.

Your gentle hands gingerly grasped the shirt as you stood, sharply inhaling at the temperature of the soup. “I’ll be back.”

You still had that shirt, after all the time that passed.

Those were fond memories you had of him, but fleeting. You smoothed your dress down and slipped on your shoes. Another memory came to haunt you, the emotions overwhelming.

The decorations were beautiful. You gazed upon the arch that Aragorn was to be wed under, trailing down the cascading vines and flowers. You counted at least a hundred guests.

If it weren’t for the emotions you felt at the moment, you might have smiled just because of how beautiful everything looked.

The very man that your thoughts were formed around jogged up to you, handsome as ever. His armor contrasted his eyes beautifully, and the smile he wore made you melt.

“Y/N. Just the woman I wished to see.” He grinned, placing a hand on your shoulder while you returned the smile.

You hummed, straightening your back. “What do you need?” You asked, ready to do whatever he needed.

“A friend.” He replied, indicating that he was nervous.

“You’ll be fine, Aragorn.” You smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Everything will go smoothly, I assure you.”

So, when he wasn’t looking, you quietly slipped away, allowing the tears to finally fall. What you didn’t know, however, was that he saw you walk away, more confused and worried than ever.

“Aragorn, please let me go.” You sniffled, lip quivering while your eyes begged him to leave.

Little did you know, Aragorn decided to run after you, desperate to clean up the mess you’d made. You ran, skillfully weaving throughout the trees to lose Aragorn.

He stood, watching while you unclasped the necklace Aragorn gave you. “Goodbye, Aragorn.” You spoke defeatedly, gently grasping his hands to place the necklace in them.

“Y/n, anything you wish, I will do. Just stay.” He asked one final time, slow tears falling down his cheeks.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wiping away his tears with your thumb. “I wish I were Arwen.” And with that, you walked away, thankful that Aragorn didn’t try to follow.

~~~ i LOVED writing this!!! if any of you writers ever wanna collaborate, hmu!!

tags: @eru-vande @thewhiteladyofrohan @from-patroclus-with-love @elvish-sky @lady-latte @entishramblings

#aragorn #aragorn x reader #aragorn x yn #lotr #lord of the rings

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weirdo-with-a-nametag · 4 years ago

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Brain is tv static with random frames interspersed

Think I'm like. Really stressed and jumping between topics to try and find something that helps / feels good

Topics:

Anyone know a good health tracking app for adhd people? I want one that like pops up when you open your phone, maybe? But is unobtrusive. Like maybe you just rate your mood or whatever when you open your phone, and it closes, and you go about your business. I just hate every app and paper method I've tried but really want to track some stuff

Pigeon. ? Pigeon as pet?

Service animals re: cats, pigeons, my cat specifically, and then also ESAs and also what to use as treats while training my cat (he's pretty happy to learn behaviors with praise and pets as reinforcement, but treats would make everything move much faster, but I haven't found something I want to give him so we've just been y'know. Chillin)

Service animals re: what tasks can my pet potentially do that would help me? I don't really know a lot about service animals and there is a Huge range. If anyone has suggestions, or places to read about it, I'd appreciate it! Mostly thinking they may help with anxiety, sensory, and mobility/fatigue related stuff. Not much of a need for medical alerts.

Bioactive enclosures for my snakes, need to research their biomes and make progress on designs and equipment specifications

Also. Hit a seriously hard patch and haven't been handling them much at all this month so that's not great

Casting stuff. Saw jewelry today made of metal casts of claws, skulls, etc, and they were really well done and made me want to do that

Some taxidermy / vulture culture stuff I won't get into right now

Puzzles????

How to organize my room

Need a shower

Need to organize bathroom

So Much Schoolwork

Uhhhhh trying, but not making much headway, to figure out how I want to do my music collection. Also really need to clean my records..

Make?

Food??? Ew.

Dental hygiene ://

Plampts. So many. Houseplants need maintenance, many need repotting. Keep taking in people's problem plants and like, they're doing better, largely, after being trimmed and watered and whatnot, but need repotting. Also need to trim some aquarium plants.

Also need to put water in tanks. And spray nepenthes.

Laundry.

Gotta pick up trash in my room. There's so much. Everywhere. Why.

Schoolwork. I'm so behind. So, so stuck. Kind of feel like I'm dying.

Going on a picnic tomorrow. Have to figure out what still needs doing for that, probably need to go to the store.

Leo needs water. I'm so....ugh, I'm trying so hard, but it feels impossible. I do my best to take good care of my pets, and I think they live pretty good lives most of the time, but sometimes I get like This and completely drop off the face of the earth and then like, wake up or whatever and two weeks have passed by and I have not cleaned a water bowl! That's a serious problem!!!! I do not know how to combat that, really, besides more reminders. Having someone around who is willing to like, help, when things are especially hard, would be great, but I don't live with my partner right now and do not feel like I can ask anyone here for that. But I can't put my animals at risk. I check on them every day, and if their bowls are dirty I do take them out and clean them, but sometimes (like now) i cannot get myself to do it without a pressure like a dirty bowl, or a feeding day. And like, it's really important that they have clean water. I'm talking to myself here but like, if anyone has advice. Please. With the tank redesigns and upgrades, the bowls will be more accessible, which will help because one of them is very heavy at the angle I have to pick it up, and another requires moving a lot of branches and is best to take out while the snake is out (this is Leo) which is fine because I love my boy, but adds time to the process, and makes it harder to start, you know? Maybe if I just got more bowls - I could take the bowl out and immediately replace it, fill the new one, and replace the decor and snake, and then clean the bowl as a separate task? That would be easier for my brain. Currently I have a Specific bowl I prefer to use for each tank, and then everything else is Just In Case, but I mean. Acquiring extras is something I want to do anyway, and it may help with several problems, so. Yeah. I'll try that. But also, any other ideas, guys?

Anxiety: can't stop picking at my face, skin, nails, cuticles, scalp, pretty much everywhere with callouses, also scratched a mole off my face, which is something I've been trying Not to do for a while, so that's...not great. Can't find my earmuffs, and also all of my headphones are painful? Ears are really sensitive lately.

Been playing a lot of Moth Game (flutter: starlight if you wanna be friends say hey I don't know how to do it but would enjoy talking about moths if nothing else. The game is just like, an idle ish collecting game with cutesy versions of different species, and very little actual information, but it's still fun, and if anyone else is on there and also Into Moths like I am, hiiiii) and like it's fun and cute but also greatly impacting my productivity, and raises my stress levels during events, which is most days, so the game has. Not been helping. But I can't stop because then I'll miss Exclusive Moths.

Anyway. Had baklava and two mugs of Thai tea today and the sugar has made me nauseous.

Trying to journal. Hurts to write. Also takes too long. Also my handwriting is very bad. But typing is..not as good

Want to draw. Thinking about drawing cats

Plants again! Want to make seed bombs, have seeds, have most of the other ingredients, just need to put em together, basically.

Really sad :(

Or am I?

Weird noise coming from dining room?

Birds. Spent half an hour at least on the deck tonight listening to a hundred different bird calls (literally) to identify one I was hearing, it was a pine siskin, which I checked early on but the recording was bad and I didn't realize which call was identified. Anyway, cool to put a name to a face, so to speak.

Need to practice for ASL

So much.....to do...

Only had like >3 hours of work this week which was not great because money, but also like I'm really feeling those 3 hours....

My cat is basically refusing to come into my room? Which is very strange and I'm worried something is Off but cannot figure out what. Also means less cuddles which means I'm sad.

It feels strange whenever people follow me, the attention is nice but I have no idea what content y'all are here for. So to everyone: hi, enjoy, hope my random personal posts aren't a surprise to anyone who followed for like. News reblogs and informational stuff.

Do I even have it in me to..be successful in school? Should I drop out of college? I'm struggling really hard and do not feel like I'm building on the skills I need to continue, so like. Uh.

My dad is being. Abrasive.

Mom and grandma are very angry lately

Housemate is also angry, about things i thought we were on good terms about, so I am stressed because like,, are we okay?

Can't find my eye mask :(

Yoga? Like...restorative yoga? Need to track down my PT stuff. And. Do it.

Need to put the stickers on my license plates....oops...

Still haven't found my antidepressants! Yay!

Do I want to store my stuff in open bins, or with lids? Which stuff needs spill protection and stacking capability and which stuff needs easy access?

How to earn money without..chaos

Gotta go to the pet store tomorrow. Have to compile my list of pet store items i need. Uhhhhhhhhhh

Also I have an essay due tomorrow that I've barely started. So. Wooooooo

Kt tape for supporting arches / inner ankles? I keep messing up my ankles, and part of it is walking wrong because I don't have the energy to engage the muscles in my feet/legs right to like, avoid injury, and part of it is I just need new shoes inserts. But i wear slippers a lot and they do not have arch support and it hurts. PT to help with this also but Where Is It

Family can't seem to get dish soap I can use, so I've just been having to avoid washing anything by hand, or being in the general kitchen area while anyone uses the stuff, which has led to more of my dishes sitting out, and more conflict over dishes. Lovely.

How hard is it for parents to learn they have to respect boundaries? Very hard, apparently. And you're supposed to just sort of remind people, and explain, over and over and over but like at this point my self worth is actually pretty good and the lifetime of proof that they do not want to listen? That's making me want to stop trying. Like, if you're not going to respect my boundaries I'm just not going to involve you in my life. I'm not talking to my dad right now because of this. Maybe I'll decide to lay things out to him, again and again and again again, maybe not. And I'm comfortable saying that's on him.

How to drink water

Am I dehydrated or are my hands just completely callous now. My fingertips have such hard skin. Why? It's uncomfortable. This is part of why I've been biting them.

Also testosterone. Been having a lot of trouble doing my shots, because anxiety and physical freakouts, but also not feeling super urgent about it. Which I'm realizing may be a sign i need to look at the effects so far and the possible effects of continuing, and see what they make me feel. It's possible I'm where I want to be as far as T, and don't really want to stay on it. A big thing for me is a deeper voice, so it seems time to take a look at whether I like my voice where it is or want to see if it'll drop any more. Etc etc

Miss my lil sisters

Saw a lot of cool rocks today. Huge (like hand sized) ammonite for $28. May go back and buy one because. Wow.

Want to plant food plants

Also my natives. Whole garden plot standing empty with a bunch of stuff waiting in nursery pots, needing to go in the ground. Because I can't get out of bed. Love that. Stuff is dying out there, I'm dying in here, there's a poetry to it and I do not want to romanticize suffering so I will say this: I brought a Bucket full of moss home a month ago and planted it and now go outside sometimes to drench my moss and it is very rewarding because the stuff is just so green. Incredible. When the rest of my plants are finally in the ground, that feeling will only intensify. But, for now, the moss is very nice.

Made a glow in the dark bead lizard from memory during therapy yesterday, and I love him. Also, still struggling with bringing up autism and psychosis topics with my therapist. Still very worried about. Things. Would like to get a new person? But sometimes she is helpful? And we have a routine. It's very hard to break the routine. Maybe I can set some time aside during the summer, to figure out what to do there.

Term ends in a couple weeks. The task of catching up, of passing, seems impossible. I really need to pass my courses. I'm on academic warning, because my GPA is lower than it should be, and if I can pass all of my classes this term I can get off academic warning but otherwise I'm not sure what will happen to my financial aid.

My phone is playing the same 50-100 songs on shuffle and I don't even particularly like most of them and it is very strange

Got my face wipes! Hooray, i can wash my face again

Been eating too much sugar in general. It's making my joints hurt more, and the nausea

Pet a dog the other day. I miss that. It would be really nice to have a dog in the house again. The exuberance, the cuddles, the tail wagging, the walks... I'd really like that. Maybe once I'm out in my room, tanks and catio built and everyone is situated, I'll look into getting a dog instead of a cat next. Was planning on holding off in case I'm not physically able to take them out on walks and such, but I've been pretty successful at doing this job, and I think that my main hurdle for walking really is motivation. Dog walking is a strong motivator for me. Best to start by fostering, or just do Wag, for a while though. I'm feeling overwhelmed with my current responsibilities, and here I am talking about getting a dog. Good job, me

How do you get wax off of somewhat water soluble rocks? My housemate broke my lava lamp on some of my rock collection and I am not sure how to get some of them clean without damage.

I am...pretty sure there are collared doves nesting over my room but it seems they're less common around here than I thought? But they are..pretty distinctive. Like if I'm wrong, what are those birds. Some very distinctly colored feral pigeons? Who are nesting here, in a tree, without their flock, and who happen to have pretty much the exact same pattern?

Probably should go to the dollar store and get some bins for organizing

Been wanting to keep a bin by the door and stock it with stim/fidget stuff people can just .have ..like extras of some of my favorites and other things i can get ahold of, to offer to my friends who haven't really had the chance to explore the world of stim toys

Hands are really just not doing great the last several weeks. Arthritis type pain cropping up more and more in all the little joints, making it hurt more to write, type, or just use them for whatever. Coordination isn't great because of that distraction, and because my hands/arms are slow to respond and kinda weak. Most people would say I'm not using them enough but I've been doing 15ish hours of manual labor per week, so maybe it's the other direction? More water would help. If only it wasn't so heavy.

I haven't taken a single shower since I started my job. Which was March 29th. That's not great.

Practiced parallel parking today. 10/10 still very bad at it.

Having anxiety that my friends think I'm lying about things, faking, and are watching me to see if I'll slip up. So that sucks. Can either talk about that directly or indirectly, or just shut up about those things until I can get my brain under control again. I'm not sure right now if the reassurance would work as a reality check or make me believe it more, right now, so might hold off on the talking bit for a little while.

Saw, smelled, picked a couple pretty roses. Good times

At this point I'm just trying to list all my thoughts so that maybe I'll be able to sleep and not worry I'll forget

My mom has put her spider plant on the deck, and it has maybe five living leaves. I have no idea how she killed such a well established spider plant, the last time I saw it it was so happy. Did she stick it in a corner and forget to water it? Whatever happened, it is now in the Plant ER, so hopefully I'll be able to...help get it on the up and up again

Leo is such a pretty noodle. He's so pretty. He's posing. Hi, baby boy.

Oh, he saw me moving around and decided to come say hi. Sorry little man, i did not mean to disturb you. Please resume lounging. I can't bring you out right now, I'm trying to sleep.

Also, terrariums. Water features. Need to ask. Someone. The one who was making that super cool garter snake enclosure and blogging the progress? With the lazy river and pool? About maintenance on that kind of setup. My milk snake really enjoys water, and I'd love to put a water feature in his tank. But I'm unclear on how to keep it clean, or honestly where to start. Don't want any huge falls or anything, though it actually may not make the humidity too high if I did maybe a small drip wall into the pool? That seems like something he would enjoy, and a good way to support different types of plants. But like, that's the thing, it's bioactive and I haven't done that before and no amount of research is ever enough.

Oh, Shogun has a dirt hat. How cute. I love when they do that

See, this is the thing. My snakes make me so happy. All three of them are actually hanging out where I can see them from my bed right now, and it's really nice. I want their lives to be the best possible, and I think I have the resources to do that. Which is so exciting. Now if only my brain and body would cooperate. It would hurt quite a lot to have to re-home any of them, but the most important thing is their health and quality of life, you know? If I can't get my act together somewhat, it may be that one or all of them would be better off with another keeper. I don't know. It's just, i talk about all these tank ideas and all this husbandry standards stuff but how much of it actually gets applied to my own animals whose lives are in my hands? How well am I caring for them, really?

Oh!!! My red thread! I thought that was gone forever.

Anyway, please do not worry. My snakes are healthy. I pay attention, and watch for signs of illness, and they're okay. There will always be places to improve, and the water is a big one, but most of the time i change their water out frequently, I'm just worried because of bad depression and fatigue times, you know? I'm working on making the most self sustaining systems i can, in part so that I am sure they'll be okay if I mess up sometimes. Just saying this because I hope you guys don't feel like you need to worry about the welfare of my pets. They're okay, i just always want better for them, is all.

Anyway, the sun is coming up and I should probably go to sleep. So uh, thanks for reading, if you read all of this randomness, and if anyone has thoughts or advice on anything in this post, i would welcome it! Good night!

#mine #long post #snakes #pets #food m #uhhhhhhhhhhhh whatever else needs tagging

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essays-for-breakfast · 4 years ago

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Let the Time of Separation Disappear

Kiane Week Day One: Touch/Feel

This group thing was a terrible idea. The Seven Deadly Sins – more like the seven daily prayers King sent to the Sacred Tree to put an end to this madhouse. No matter how skilled the individual fighters might prove in combat – and King had his doubts about at least two of the four oddballs in this matter –, they would not function as a unit. The afternoons he spent trapped in the community quarters high up in Liones castle demonstrated this point with such emphasis, he might laugh. That is, if he hadn’t felt so miserable.

On the rare occasion that the Mage, Merlin, showed herself, she would levitate in a corner of the room, smile to herself, and watch the disaster unfold. She played the group without the need of a single word, and King did his utmost to turn invisible whenever she teleported into their midst. But the Captain, Meliodas, would always shatter his efforts by showering everyone on the team with a disgusting excess of liquor only humans could find amusing.

And unfortunately, ‘everyone’ included King.

The third of the bunch, Gowther, did nothing much at all. He sat on the floor in his clunky armor, took away space, and sometimes speed through a book Merlin handed to him in about a minute. The mere thought of gluing his eyes onto a piece of manufactured wood filled with this many words gave King a headache.

And no, the alcohol was not responsible this time. Although the sight of Gowther’s untouched mug on the floor did produce a foul taste on his tongue. King hurried to open the nearest window, and swallowed a lungful of oxygen. A bit better. Even though the air circling around the human castle lacked the scents of nature, of conifers and pollen and grass heavy with morning dew.

“What’s the matter, King, you gotta throw up?”

King craned his neck to throw a death glare at the owner of the voice.

Ban was by far and away the worst. If a single human existed to whom King liked to demonstrate the deadly capabilities of his Sacred Treasure more than Aldrich, Ban would make for the ideal candidate. Careless, loud, rude, followed by the stench of alcohol wherever he went, and overall, the most human-like human King had had the displeasure to meet. The day he would fight alongside this man would without a doubt bring about the end of Britannia.

“I would have rather stayed in my cell,” King said with a pleading look in Meliodas’ direction.

“Too late. I got’cha out of there, so you owe me your eternal loyalty. Although I might free you from your debt if ya take another drink and relax. I’ve got good news this time.”

Gowther looked up from his book with a teeth-clattering shriek of his helmet. “Does this mean you have found one of our missing members?”

Meliodas grinned. “Bingo.”

“Nooo!” King buried his face between his hands. “Not another one. I won’t take another.”

The only hinderance that had so far saved him from the dreaded field missions as a special order of King Bartra’s Holy Knights with a special talent for lacking any resemblance of teamwork, had been their shortage of numbers. According to Bartra’s vision, seven knights would unite against an unnamed great threat. King’s lucky streak had not only pushed him into the spotlight as one of these seven, it had also chosen the worst people as his teammates. And he had little hope that the Sins of Envy and Pride would upset the trend once they showed up.

Meliodas wiggled an accusing finger in the air. “Now, now, King, you have to give her the opportunity to win you over. I met her by chance before she was sentenced. She’s a nice girl. And her grilled pork tastes far better than mine.”

“That’s a low standard to beat.” Ban robbed across the lavish carpet – the pelt of a white hound-like creature if King had to guess – and put an arm around the Captain’s neck. “I’ve never tasted worse food than yours!”

“Well, it’s not like cooking’s a revered skill where I come from.”

“To return to your complaint, King,” Merlin said while hiding her intentions behind the rim of her wine glass, “I believe our newcomer will surprise you. You might find that you share more than a few things with her.”

Aha. Another one of Merlin’s cryptic messages. Did the Captain carry with him a dictionary on the way she shared knowledge in singular puzzle pieces to understand her? And could King borrow such a dictionary?

“Let’s just get this over with,” he said with a sigh.

Meliodas clapped his hands together. “Great! But we gotta go out to the yard to meet her. She’s a little shy.”

With crossed arms, King floated behind the others through the great halls of the castle. Cold stone atop of more cold stone, decorated with stone ornaments. A handful of knights passed them on their way towards the yard and stared at the group with a mixture of curiosity and hostility. Many a hand wandered towards the hilt of a sword, mace, or spear. King could handle the glares, as a Fairy, he had earned a plethora of glances and hushed comments from his prison guards throughout the past two hundred years. His human form did little to divert suspicion, after all, he hobbled behind an armored colossus, a drunkard, and a blond child. But what unnerved King far more was the fact that he would soon have to collaborate with these human knights and fight their war. Last time he had been forced to kill, his hand hadn’t stopped trembling for days on end.

King bumped into Ban when the latter stopped dead on the doorstep towards the yard. The string of curses he planned to hurl at Ban died in his throat, suffocated by the sight of his newest teammate. She reached thirty feet above the cobblestone, her head blocked the sun, and she refused to dissolve after one, two, four hacked breaths that escaped King’s mouth like whimpers.

She hadn’t changed one bit. Of course, she had grown in these two hundred years, the shape of her body had become more defined with added curves, but she still wore her hair in pigtails, she still shuffled her right foot over the ground, and she still hid her face behind brown locks when none of the other Sins raised their voice to greet her.

Her eyes, a shade of violet more intense than any forget-me-not – the same.

Her hands, strong and dirt-stained and able to form clay into fantastical figures – the same.

Her voice when she mumbled a “Hi, guys” into her hair – the same.

The world turned upside down and shrunk, King’s vision and his sense of smell narrowed until no one but her existed, her and a cave and a field of flowers he had called home. She had survived – what had led her here? Did she remember? No, of course not, the spell King had woven had plucked every last hint of him from her memory. But she still stood here, presented to him as his teammate. They could spend their time together like they had used to – but they would fight in a war together. She might get hurt, she might be forced to kill, she might see the failure he was, a killer who didn’t hesitate to end his best friend’s life. Even if the universe had worked its magic to make her remember him… wouldn’t she hate him? For abandoning her?

Ban smacked his elbow into King’s ribs. “Will ya say hi to her already? Otherwise my feet are gonna freeze to the ground.”

What? Had any of them talked? Had Meliodas introduced her already? King turned towards the Captain for help, but he only offered a knowing grin that matched Merlin’s expression to a T.

She extended a hand towards King, the skin covered by tiny scars from a life in the wild. “The name’s Diane.”

“Harle- You can call me King.”

“Nice to meet you, King.” The smile she gifted him was ripped right out of his memories, untainted by the two hundred years of separation.

And when he placed a trembling hand against her outstretched finger, every moment that had withered and lost its gleam in the darkness of his prison cell returned to him, and they were kids again. The games of tag, the stories she told him, the anecdotes about plants he shared with her, the sound of her laugh, the smell of grilled pork, the warmth of her body next to him when they slept.

All of this and more overwhelmed King at the touch of Diane’s skin. The sweaty palm of his human form against the softness of her fingertip, so close that he felt the individual grooves and bumps of her skin.

His heart might have well run away and forgotten to beat when Diane leaned forward. “We wouldn’t happen to know each other, right? Something about you feels familiar… I can’t put my finger on it.”

“W-where could we have met?” King blinked against the sting in his eyes. Probably dust. Yeah, definitely dust. “I’m sure you’re imagining it. You can find a face like mine all around human towns, right Captain?”

“Sure, but most of those folks can’t fly.”

“I always wondered about this,” Ban said. “But I’ve had at least two… three… five bottles of ale, so I can’t trust me ears or my eyes anymore. Speaking of, with our sixth member tracked down, the evening calls for a celebration! Captain, you wouldn’t happen to have more of that Vanya Ale stocked somewhere?”

Meliodas grinned. “I’m one step ahead of you. You’ll join too, right Diane?”

“How could I decline when you’re the one asking?” Diane winked at the Captain, but by some miracle, her eyes found their way back to King. “Still, I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before. It’s like a memory from long ago I can’t quite reach.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” King said. “People can imagine the most wonderous things when they’re dreaming.”

But he remembered. He remembered all of it, all the moments, the conversations, and the quiet togetherness Diane had forgotten. And on this day and throughout the next five years King stayed beside her. He found excuses to touch her, hand her a drink, brush her arm when floating next to her, high-five her after a successful mission. Her skin against his skin for the briefest of moments.

So that at least one of them remembered.

#kianeweek #kianeweek2020 #nnt #nanatsu no taizai #nnt fanfic #king x diane #kiane #king #diane #the sins #my writing #I don't know what this is #but it's not the prompt #too tired to edit

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gloves94 · 5 years ago

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Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 21

Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary: “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…” His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

"Have you ever thought about why you're the only person in your family- in the world with that color of hair?" Iroh said.

Tsai wished more than anything that she could see his face or be sitting next to him. She didn't know what hurt her more. Having had to hurt Iroh like that or her melodramatic break up with the prince.

She touched the tips of red auburn-red hair as she looked at the color pondering on the ominous meaning of his words. All along she thought she had inherited it from a distant relative from a faraway land. She always thought they there might be somebody else with the same hair tone but Iroh was right. They had practically gone around the world and had yet to encounter someone with similar hair.

"Tsai, your hair. It's that color because-" He was interrupted by a door being slammed.

"Prisoners are to be kept in isolation!" A guard intruded as she heard them barge into Iroh's cell.

"I feel that your journey will be difficult Tsai. Much more difficult than mine!" He shouted as they seized him.

"No! No!" She pounded on the walls. "Wait!"

"Be strong! Have faith and be brave! But most of all remember who you are! Look for the light! You are the light!" He shouted over his shoulder as he was escorted out of the prison cell dungeon.

"Please! Don't take him!" She pleaded her voice cracking. "Don't leave me alone," she let out a miserable whimper as the tears spilled from her eyes.

"Please…" She managed to let out a squeak. She wrapped her arms around herself feeling more alone than ever. That night Tsai spent the night in the cell in isolation and her tears almost drowned the miserable prison...

xxx

Zuko frowned slightly as he leaned against the ship railing and stared out at the moonlit ocean in front of him. He was finally going home after three long years. It was something he should be happy about, but a part of him rebelled against the emotion.His stomach churned with anxiety at the thought of seeing his father again.

Why did he feel so… filthy?

Why did he feel as if there was a missing part of him? As if he had lost something?

He didn't understand the heartache that consumed most of his internal turmoil and blended emotions.

"Aren't you cold?" A voice suddenly interrupted hit thoughts

The scarred prince turned his head slightly to glance at his ex-girlfriend. Not Tsai. It was Mai his ex-ex-girlfriend. She looked the same as she had before his banished. Her chalk porcelain skin remained emotionless her midnight straight black hair flowing down in two strands like two-night cascades. She walked over to him, hands hidden inside her sleeves and stopped less than a foot away from him cool, calm and collected.

"I've got a lot on my mind," he responded his tone flat as he turned his attention back to the ocean.

"It's been so long, over three years since I was home. I wonder what's changed. I wonder how I've changed."

Mai suddenly yawned and she looked at Zuko with a bored expression, "I just asked if you were cold, I didn't ask for your whole life story."

Zuko pursed his lips and turned away from her, his brow furrowing slightly in annoyance. Thoughts of a certain auburn-haired girl from the Fire Nation colonies flooded his mind. Thoughts about his uncle also seized him. His-No- Their betrayal. Yes. That's how it had been. They betrayed him. He shook his head slightly in an attempt to rid himself of his thoughts and the pulsating headache that was about to become a migraine.

He was so distraught he didn't notice Mai stepping closer to him and wrapping her arms around him.

"Stop worrying." She said with a small smile as she cupped his cheek and turned his face towards her.

He looked away, turning away from her. She leaned in to kiss him. Yet he recoiled. The only thing he could see was Tsai's look of pure horror on her face in the crystal chamber back in the underground lake cave. Mai pulled back with a frown, her expression one of hurt and confusion. They hadn't spoken in over three years; he hadn't seen her in over three years. He didn't feel connected to her anymore.

Then again he was sure he didn't feel anything at all anymore.

"Zuko?" She questioned perplexed, her brow knotting as she didn't understand just what was going through his mind.

Zuko starred at her for a moment. Her eyes weren't warm. Her skin wasn't sun kissed. Her hair wasn't red, but she was standing right before him and maybe- just maybe she'd help. She'd help put the memory of Tsai in a box and become the last nail in the coffin that would be buried away forever.

After all she was a traitor to his country and to his uncle- the apathetic look that she flashed him her empty eyes haunted him.

He hesitated but leaned forward to kiss her. She gently touched his face when she did and smiled faintly at him when she broke the kiss and walked away.

Zuko bowed his head and shut his eyes as he leaned on the ship deck's metal rail. It didn't work. Just like it hadn't worked when he kissed Jin in front of that fountain that night. His insides churned with unease as guilt stirred inside of his consciousness. He had to get rid of her. He had to forget her. Nothing would ever be the same after Ba Sing Se. He had to forget ALL of her.

He suddenly felt a sensation burning in his pocket, he snatched the burning coal out and realized it was her family's necklace. The one he had taken from her as the Blue Spirit. He had forgotten to return it to her and had stayed lost amongst his possessions in Ba Sing Se. He looked at the amber sunstone that decorated the center of the choker and the way that it gleamed. Wild thoughts raged inside his head. He clenched it in a shaking fist and raised it over his head throwing it into the dark depths of the ocean. Yet- his palm did not open. He could not let go. He used every ounce of physical strength he could muster, but his hand would not unclench.

"Why can't I let you go?" He roared in anger as frustration consumed him.

xxx

Isolation was a different type of hell. It was depressing. It consumed your sanity.

Tsai had a schedule of activities she would practice every day in an attempt to keep her sanity at least in the borderline. They would feed her flavorless rice and a bucket of water a day. She would sleep in the cold, dark floor and the only sound she could hear besides the crashing waves was the one of the sea gulls outside flying on the deck. Feeding on whatever scraps had been left over from lunch.

“You have to stay active.” Iroh had instructed. “Keep both your mind and body strong.”

She would awake, scratch another white line on the ground which symbolized another gone day. She would spend a period of time stretching, running from one side of her cell to the other, keeping her muscles strong. Part of it was spent singing and the other thinking.

Thinking was the worst. She couldn't stop thinking about the what if's. What if she had never gotten on that ship? What if she had joined the Avatar when she could? What if she turned really turned on Iroh just like his ungrateful nephew had? What if she had conformed with what she had known about the Fire Nation her whole life and stayed quiet? What did Iroh mean about her strange hair color? She also thought about her dream… The one that had been lost so many times… Maybe Zuko was right. Maybe she would never acknowledge anything extraordinary in her life.

Several weeks had passed now and she suspected they were nearing the Fire Nation's dock.

Tsai was taken to the prison dungeons in the North Tower upon their arrival to the Fire Nation. People threw rotten food and other trash at her and the disgraced Dragon of the West as they were escorted to the tower. Whooping, cursing and trash talk followed them as people cruelly hollered them on.

A part of her thought it was slightly humorous that she had been imprisoned in the Southern Water Tribe, the Earth Kingdom and now in the Fire Nation. All this prison bird was missing from her BINGO was visiting the Air Nomad's jail.

“They will first take you as a prisoner,” Iroh had predicted. “It is very important that you remain true to yourself. That you know what you want and what you have to do.” He had instructed.

She had to play the long waiting game and by their rules. She let out a breath she had been holding and attempted to find comfort in her discomfort. The rats that kept her company, grime and filth in the small cell did not help.

xxx

"Your Princess Azula, clever and beautiful, disguised herself as the enemy and entered the Earth Kingdom's Capital."

Her royal aides, Li and Lo, stood before at the top of the battle tower in the Royal Plaza in the Fire Nation Capital's harbor. Li addressed the soldiers below "In Ba Sing Se, she found her brother Zuko, and together they faced the Avatar..."

"And the Avatar fell!" They chorused together, "And the Earth Kingdom fell!"

"Azula's agents quickly overtook the city." Lo continued loudly, "They went to Ba Sing Se's great walls..."

"And brought them down!" The two women shouted in unison.

"The armies of the Fire Nation surged through the walls and swarmed over Ba Sing Se, securing our victory." Li exclaimed.

'Several Dai Li agents stood at the top of the Outer Wall then they leapt down, sliding down the wall with their hands and feet pressed against it. When they landed on the ground they quickly lunged forward and slammed their fists against the wall, bringing down several sections and allowing hundreds of Fire Nation soldiers into the once impenetrable city of Ba Sing Se...'

"Now the heroes have returned home!" Li and Lo shouted together.

"Your princess, Azula..." Lo introduced and the crowd below cheered loudly as the young princess stepped forward, a smirk on her face.

"And after three long years," Li continued to speak, "Your prince has returned..."

"Zuko!" Li and Lo shouted together.

Zuko swallowed imperceptibly and walked forward with a vaguely worried expression on his face, his head slightly bowed. How would his people react to his return form exile? He was taken aback in surprise as crowd cheered loudly when he reached the edge of the balcony and he stared down at them for moment then lifted his chin, holding his head up proudly. A small smile on his face. They accepted him. They welcomed him back. This was all that he had ever wanted.

Their honorable prince had finally returned home.

xxx

Zuko sat cross-legged beside the small pond in the palace's square garden he and his mother used to sit by, and he tossed small pieces of bread into the water, watching quietly as the turtle-ducks quacked. His thoughts went to his mother. What would she think of him? What would she have done? Would she be proud?

He sighed and pulled out the sunstone necklace from his pocket. He traced the stone with his thumb and looked at it sadly.

He had so many questions that were unanswered…

“You seem so downcast. Has Mai gotten to you already?" Azula commented with false warmth as she approached her brother and she smiled slyly as she stood in front of him, "Though actually, Mai has been in strangely good mood lately."

Zuko ignored her provocations and stared at the pond lost in thought, "I haven't seen Dad yet. I haven't seen him in three years, since I was banished."

What would he say when they met again?

"So what?" Azula snorted. Thinking her brother's concerns were pathetic.

'"-Your father sent you on a fool's errand to capture the Avatar was because he didn't want you-"' Tsai's harsh words echoed in the back of his head.

What if she was right?

"So," Zuko growled in annoyance, "I didn't capture the Avatar."

"Who cares? The Avatar's dead..." Azula replied flippantly, though her eyes narrowed when she saw her brother look away, "Unless you think he somehow miraculously survived..."

'"This is water from the spirit oasis at the North Pole." Katara explained as she held up a small vial on a leather string for him to see, "It has special properties, so I've been saving it for something important."' He could still remember the waterbender saying to him.

"No." Zuko growled lowly after the memory faded from his mind and he turned his head to glare at his sister, "There's no way he could have survived."

Azula's eyes narrowed and she glared down at her brother for a moment then she shrugged nonchalantly, "Well, then I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

It was then that Azula’s eyes caught a glimmer in his hand.

“What’s that?” She asked with narrowed eyes.

Zuko instantly pulled his hand away in a defensive tone. “Nothing,” he said much too sharply.

“Let me see!” Azula wasted no time and dove for his hand prying it open.

“Go away Azula!” Her brother argued back as he tried to keep his hands clamped over the jewelry artifact and tugged his way. Azula tugged the opposite way. “Let me see!” She insisted childishly. It was then that Zuko fell back hitting the back of his head against the tree’s back. Azula gave a step back from the sudden momentum yet saw a glimmer go up in the air. With one swift motion she jumped and caught the gem midair with one hand.

Zuko starred at the strappy part of the torn part of choker necklace in his hand and rose to his feet a deep scowl on his face.

“Look what you’ve done!” He exclaimed angrily.

“What is this?” Azula narrowed her eyes and inspected the small orange colored stone between her index and thumb. It was small, round and well-polished.

“None of your business!” He barked.

“A gift for Mai?” She assumed. “Why would you give her such a tacky present?”

Zuko snatched the gem from her hands and shoved it into the depths of his pockets. He wouldn't allow her to have it. To touch it. Even look at it.

“You’ve got awful taste.” His sister said looking down at her brother’s taste in jewelry. That was totally not Mai’s style. “Besides, everybody knows that diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Much classier too,” She said something about this being fun and walked away laughing as she did.

Zuko sighed and secretly looked at the gemstone as he retreated and once again took his seat by the pond. By this point all the turtle ducks were gone and he sat alone.

Zuko pursed his lips and he looked back at his reflection in the water, his anxious thoughts drifting from the ruined heirloom to his reunion with his father when he suddenly saw a familiar reflection appear next to him in the water. He almost fell to the side as he turned in shock. It was her. Tsai was standing next to him clear as day. She stood proudly with her back straight as an arrow as she usually did hands crossed over her chest.

"What do you think the Fire Dad will do to you if the Avatar is alive?" She clicked the back of her tongue in disapproval and shook her head.

"What are you doing here?" He snapped angrily hiding the stone in his pocket again, this time for good.

She rounded around him not breaking eye contact.

"Am I.…really here?" She pondered out loud. "Or am I rotting in the dungeons where you sent me!"

He must be going mad. People in his family had a history of mental turmoil and hallucinations. He wouldn't be surprised if he was actually seeing things.

"You're not real!" He shouted tossing a piece of bread at her which clearly went through her shape.

"Guess I'm real enough to haunt you," she shrugged casually. "What's it like?" She cocked her head to the side hair falling to one side. "Having everything you ever wanted back? Your honor? Your throne? Your family's respect!" She snapped viciously her eyes fixed on his, her expression loaded with contempt.

"Shut up!" He shouted back. He shook his head. He was speaking to nothing. There was no one there. She wasn't real. He was talking to himself. "SHUT UP!" He shouted pulling at his hair shutting his eyes tightly.

When he opened his eyes she was gone.

xxx

"I am so proud of you, Prince Zuko. I am proud because you and your sister conquered Ba Sing Se." Fire Lord Ozai said with pride as he walked around still kneeling son. This was it. The words he had longed to hear. His father's approval and recognition. It was what he had always wanted. So why was he on edge expected to be lashed out at? "I am proud because when your loyalty was tested by your treacherous uncle, you did the right thing and captured the traitor. I am proudest of all of your most legendary accomplishment. You slay the Avatar."

Zuko's eyes widened in shock before he schooled his face into a neutral expression as he turned his head slightly to look at his father over his shoulder.

"What did you hear?" He poked.

"Azula told me everything." The Fire Lord explained lowly, "She said she was amazed and impressed at your power and ferocity at the moment of truth."

Zuko pursed his lips slightly and looked off to the side, his mind whirling with questions.

"Like I said- what will daddy think if the Avatar is alive?" A familiar voice echoed inside his head.

Xxx

"Seems odd doesn't it?"

Zuko stomped through the hallways of the Fire Nation's palace. A figment of his imagination haunted him. A most annoying figment.

"Azula doesn't do things to be kind. Specially not for you." Tsai shrugged as she walked next to him. She looked like she always had. Strong, unapologetic, glowing.

"She's my sister. She wouldn't do that. You don’t know her," he growled out at the nothing. Trying to keep his eyes focused forward. "You're right," the girl answered after a moment. "After all, I'm just a figment of your guilty conscience. I only know what you know." He turned to where the girl was standing and swatted his hand over her repeatedly making her mirage vanish.

Zuko threw open the door to Azula's chambers and narrowed his eyes, "Why'd you do it?" He demanded to know. He hated to admit it but his conscience was right. Azula really did not do things out of kindness for anyone and less for him.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific." Azula commented coolly without opening her eyes or moving from her bed.

"Why did you tell Father that I was the one who killed the Avatar?" Zuko demanded as he walked further into his sister's room, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Can't this wait until the morning?"

"It. Can't." He spat.

"Fine." Azula sighed and she opened her eyes as she sat up in her bed, "You seemed so worried about how Father would treat you because you hadn't captured the Avatar. I figured if I gave you the credit, you'd have nothing to worry about."

"But why?" Zuko asked in confusion.

"Call it a generous gesture." Azula asked smugly as she slipped out of her bed and walked towards her brother, "I wanted to thank you for your help, and I was happy to share the glory."

"Generous? Since when does Azula share her glory?" It was that voice again. Scoffing in the back of his head.

Zuko's eyes narrowed as he regarded his sister, "You're lying."

If you say so..." Azula replied as she walked past him.

"You have another motive for doing this, I just haven't figured out what it is." Zuko growled as he turned to glare at his sister.

"Please Zuko, what ulterior motive could I have? What could I possibly gain by letting you get all the glory for defeating the Avatar?" Azula asked mockingly as she turned around and approached him, putting her hand on his shoulder, "Unless, somehow, the Avatar was actually alive. All that glory would suddenly turn to shame and foolishness. But you said it yourself, that was impossible."

Zuko scowled at his sister as she laid back on her bed and he turned his back on her, preparing to leave the room, "And what did you tell father about Ts-" He faltered slightly and stopped himself. The boulder of guilt on his shoulder's becoming heavier and heavier with every passing moment.

"About the girl that was traveling with uncle. " He corrected.

She appeared in his vision once again. "I have a name you know?"

Azula smiled slyly, "You mean your girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend." Zuko said. This time more quietly.

"You got that damn right!" His torturous vision screeched as she stood next to Azula.

"That's not what I heard," Azula said teasingly. "Did you see the look on her face?" She laughed. "When she was begging you to betray us alongside uncle. It was pathetic. I should've struck her down when I had the chance, but I guess rotting in the dungeons is a fit punishment. Even tho in an interesting turn of events she was the one that brought down Uncle."

Zuko saw Tsai's translucent imaginary hands wrap around Azula's neck as she attempted to strangle her. Zuko clenched his hands into fists at his sides as he stopped in the doorway, his back to his sister. He couldn't see or hear Tsai's voice anymore.

"Of course, father knows about her. He wants to meet her. Wants to find a fit punishment to atone for her family's crimes towards the Fire Nation's crown" Azula continued with a wicked smile as she closed her eyes, "Sleep well, Zuzu."

Zuko swallowed thickly and closed the door behind him, his eyes closing in anguish.

xxx

They came for her suddenly. She didn't even have a moment to react. She resisted kicking, fighting and scratching the soldiers that seized her.

"Where are you taking me?" She shouted.

She was completely stripped off her clothes and thrown into a moist concrete pit where buckets of ice-cold water were thrown at her. She shivered and was told to wash herself. After a pair of semi decent clothing consisting of a dull brown dress with long no sleeves were given to her. It was fastened at the waist with a simple string.

She was escorted into the palace. A palace which as a little girl had more than anything dreamed of visiting one day. It was as mighty as the nation with tall traditional Fire Nation roofs that curved up and reflect a bright red color. Crimson columns, gold and painted dragons danced the royal hallways.

“Knowing my brother, they will grant you an audience… Not to hear you out, but to humiliate you. I warn you. My brother is not the forgiving kind.” She could still remember Iroh’s instructions.

She was taken before Fire Lord Ozai.

The Fire Lord's face was striking with the embers that surrounded him. His cheeks were prominent and hollow, eyes were a pale yellow like a snake’s and his midnight dark hair was work in a half up updo as if was traditionally worn. He looked down at her as if she was an insect ready to be squished.

She could definitely see the family resemblance between him and his children.

“Play them like a game of Pai Sho.”

How many times had she been instructed to bow before the Fire Lord in her childhood if he was ever to visit the colonies. Of course, the man never did. How many days had she pledged her allegiance to the Fire Nation before school started as a child. Hell- she had drawn the face of their powerful leader countless of times, and now she stood before him. It was all a little unreal.

Azula stood to his right, Zuko to the left. The three of them standing before her. She suddenly fell to her knees being pushed to the floor by a guard. She glared at the man from underneath her bangs which had grown long and now covered most of her face.

"I should have your head," Ozai suddenly spoke. "For your dishonor and disrespect. Your family's too." He stroked his dark slim beard with one hand.

She remained silent.

It pained her but she had to play the long game...

Zuko looked at her. He did not look like she remembered. Her cheeks were thin, her eyes were wild, and her hair had grown dull and longer past her shoulders. She didn't glow like she seemed to in his mind, in his memories. She almost looked feral. Like a wounded animal.

"This is the harlot you decided to keep as company?" He tossed at his son who had been holding his breath this entire time. Ozai had asked a question, yet it sounded like a statement.

'Coward..' Tsai thought bitterly. 'To think that she had… That she had lov-' her eyes snapped back to Ozai. She couldn't afford to be distracted.

"I can see why you kept her. She's quite striking. And you know what they say about colonial women they are.." He paused for a moment. "Less sophisticated than us. In more ways than one," a ghost smirk made way to his face. "I should teach you a lesson." The Fire Lord stood, his fist gleaming with a burning fire.

This was Zuko's worst nightmare. He looked at his father with fearful eyes while attempting to wear a stoic mask of indifference. He wanted to say something. To speak up but he couldn't. He had already suffered the consequences of speaking up once without being spoken to and the results had been dire. Tsai didn't move. Her body stiffened at the sight of the flames. She remained silent as she wondered how Iroh could be related to this monster?

"Your existence is a mere insult to my nation. A half-bred mongrel with blood from the Earth Kingdom. Your existence is a stain in the history of a line of prestigious Fire Nation military men."

'Don't speak about my family,' she wanted to snarl. His cruel words were tearing at her as he insulted her pride, her home, her heritage and family all being shredded before her. It hurt. Standing in silence went against her nature. What she was about to do went against everything she had learned and grown in the past year. It broke her, but it was something she had to do. She had to at least make them think she was on their side.

"Fire Lord Ozai." She then rose to her feet and bowed her head to him with nothing but respect. Keeping it lowered hoping he wouldn't see past her façade.

She knew that this family was obsessed with honor and decided to have a play at it.

"It is truly an honor to be in your presence."

Zuko kept his hands behind his back as he starred with his jaw going slack. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing.

"I captured the traitor and bow before you and acknowledge my sins against the Crown and my Nation whom I hold so dear." She looked up at met his pale-yellow eyes. Here she stood before the most powerful man in the world lowering her head pathetically, groveling to him. Lying. It made her sick to her core. She couldn't believe what she was going to say next. "And I hope... I hope the Crown will pardon me and grant me the opportunity to regain my honor."

The prince kept a composed expression, yet he clenched his fisted hands behind his back tightly. Nails burying into his palms. His heart racing against his rib cage uncomfortably.

"You freed the Avatar." Ozai stated. "At the Pohuai Stronghold. Because of you the siege for the North Pole failed."

"My intentions were noble." She said bravely standing her ground as she pushed her hair back out of her face. "I couldn't allow a filthy man like Zhao to have that glory and honor of capturing the Avatar. Not when it didn't belong to him."

"Who did it belong to then?" The Fire Lord asked leaning forward slightly in what appeared to be intrigued.

"Your son. Our Prince. I saw it upon my duty to protect his honor." She lowered her head once again and the Lord let out what sounded like a blend between a humorous huff and a scoff.

"My son doesn't need anybody to protect his honor. Much less a colonial harlot."

The words didn't sting. Yet fueled her internal anger.

"And the Blue Spirit?" He asked after a moment of quiet.

Zuko stiffened next to his father.

"It was me." She once again lied through her teeth.

Zuko's face went white. What was this idiot doing? She was going to get herself killed. He could feel a bead of sweat sliding down his temple. His voice gone. He didn't want to look at his merciless father. Ozai spoke and he expected the worst. He was beginning to feel his knees growing weak. After all he was capable of anything. He had to do something. He had to speak up- but his voice. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth it would betray him and it wouldn't sound out.

"Killing you would be kind," The Fire Lord breathed almost in a sympathetic tone.

"What do you think we should do?" He questioned out loud. Azula slightly bounced ready to present her list of vile ideas and ploys in which she could torture and humiliate one of the Fire Nation's biggest traitors.

"Zuko..?" He turned to test his son.

It was then that their eyes suddenly met, and he felt a pang in his chest. His eyes went slightly wide. Heart almost stopping. Her eyes. They held no sympathy for him, no care. They weren't the same ones he had looked into countless of times before. His father was testing him. He had to answer something. Now more than ever he couldn't be wrong. He had once promised her he wasn't going to let anyone, or anything hurt her when they arrived to the Fire Nation. He had promised they were going to get it all back. If there was a time to act upon his promise it was now more than ever.

"She's to spend the rest of her days in the dungeons. In isolation," he answered coldly. 'At least she would be safe there…'

The Fire Lord remained silent. His displacement obvious.

"Boring," Azula laughed. "Is that the best you can come up with?"

"I have a better idea," she stepped forward. Malice clear in her voice. She waved the guards away with her hand and walked around Tsai mockingly. The girl only kept her eyes frozen forward on the Fire Lord's pale ones.

"She's harmless really," Azula laughed and pushed her forward making her tumble. She then kicked the back of the girl's head stepping on it pressing her face against the palace's cold marble floors.

Zuko fought the urge to run towards her. To help her. To knock his vile sister on her back. To fight the aching that longed for her inside him. The sunstone burning hot in his pocket.

"All I want is a shot at redemption," She tried to speak as eloquently as possible. "I would be spitting at the graves of my ancestors if I continued to pretend I'm something I'm not. Back in Ba Sing Se I realized that what I wanted more than anything was to serve my nation. The Fire Nation. The greatest Nation of them all. Just like my father and fore father's before him."

Ozai looked at her with intrigue as he once again stroked his beard.

"Without me. The Disgraced General would've never been captured." Azula stepped harder on the back of her cranium.

"I need a new servant daddy. Can I keep her?" Azula pouted as she stepped harder on her head. The red head let out a snarl from the back of her throat. "I have always wanted a pet."

"I don't have time for such trivial things," Ozai dismissed bored. "Do as you wish Azula."

Zuko could feel his father's eyes on him. He had just gotten in his good graces. He couldn't afford to disappoint him again.

"She'll be our servant." Zuko managed to find his voice. He looked at her hard, his chest swelling with a shaky breath he was holding. "You will be stripped of all of your noble and royal titles and you will work every day for the rest of your life as a peasant. Serving us. Until you are deemed of being considered honorable."

"Which will be never!" Azula cackled proud of her brother stepping up.

Ozai relaxed back into his seat appearing pleased with his son’s punishment.

"I…" She rasped and heaved anger dripping from her words. This was humiliating. "I pledge my loyalty to the Fire Nation and to the ruling Crown." She lowered her head. "It will be my honor."

Ozai's malicious grin stretched even further. An expression which sent cold chills down her spine.

Azula stepped harder on the back of her head. "You're going to wish you were dead by the time I'm done with you!" Azula cackled maliciously. She finally stepped off her and kicked her side laughing. She kept her head low not wanting to meet Zuko's eyes. She couldn't bear the sight of him.

The colonial girl was taken to a private servant quarter near the royal chambers. She had no belongings. No name to her. Nothing. Not even a mirror in her new prison. On the way to her new 'prison' she thought a thousand and one ways in which she could poison Azula. Not that she would get away with it, but if she was going down, she might as well take the bitch down as well.

Zuko remained petrified. His heart was pounding in his chest. Sweat had formed on his brow and he was finally able to unclench his tight jaw. All while his father's cold eyes scrutinized on him.

"Don't tell me you actually grew to care for that colonial half-breed mongrel," his father spat out venomously.

"No," Zuko answered back, eyes hard and cold. "She means nothing to me."

xxx

AN: I am NOT okay 😭😭😭

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CHAPTER MASTERLIST

#prince zuko #zukoxreader #Zuko x oc #Zuko x you #zuko #imagine #atla #atla fanfic #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar fanfic #avatar x oc #avatar fanfiction #iroh #ozai #azula #fan fiction #wattpad #aoc

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crimsonbluemoon · 5 years ago

Note

For the prompt game 12//07//25 please? Ah... Ohmtoonz? or a pair you've been itching to do :3

EACH TIME I SAY I WONT OVERDUE IT

Yet here we are. >.>

AU: BabysitterTrope: Childhood friendsPrompt: “I know this looks bad, but I swear it’s not.”

Pairing: Ohmtoonz

“Okay, I know this looks bad-” Ryan had to take a deep breath to keep from bursting out in laughter at the scene. His kitchen, which had been pristine and tidy when he’d left for a meeting with his lawyer three hours ago, was covered in more colors than he thought he could process. In the middle of the room sat Joe, hands splotched in yellow and smearing the substance down the tiles already coated in pink. The ‘babysitter’, (the term used very loosely, since it was a last minute decision after Joe’s original babysitter got sick) was in no better shape. Blue clumps of paint (Ryan hoped it was paint) were threaded through hair he remembered being much fluffier when they were children. Age had tamed it, though the red beard was even brighter now with fingerpaint between the strands. The place, his four year old son, and his babysitter were a disaster that Ryan still wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry over. “But I swear it’s not.”

“Luke.” Trying to keep from smiling, Ryan stepped forward, hands leaving his slack’s pockets to point above. “My ceiling is purple.”

“And orange!” Joe supplied happily, splashing his hands down into an actual pile of paint beside him.

“What happened? You’re a police officer; you literally shoot people for a living. How did a four year old get the jump on you like this?” Ryan had to tease, because it’d been so long since he’d been able to. Luke had always been the one that got away; his best friend for nearly two decades before, at eighteen, he left to travel Europe and ‘find his meaning’ in life. Ryan had wanted to go, nearly asked to join, but had simply stood in the airport and held back tears just long enough for Luke to enter the gate without seeing them. He’d been head over heels in love back then, and sometimes he’d thought the feeling was mutual. But all the ‘what ifs’ flew away with Luke on his plane, and Ryan had forced himself to move on.

Eight years, one messy divorce, and a son later, Ryan had run into his high school love at the bank four months prior. Luke had come back to their hometown years ago to become a cop, but Ryan’s wonderful ex-wife had demanded he move to the west coast with her. He’d never got wind of Luke’s return, too distracted by the birth of Joe and the mother of his child abandoning her duties to run off with the pool guy. Ryan hadn’t been able to move back to his hometown until four months ago, still working on finalizing the paperwork and letting Joe finish his first year in pre-school before moving him back across the country.

He’d felt a little lonely, raising his toddler without a hand to help support him on days he didn’t want to get out of bed. It wasn’t like his marriage had given him much in that department, either. She’d been distant after Joe was born, jealous of the attention Ryan gave their son, and sought her happiness in someone else. She hadn’t even said goodbye to their son when she left, which had been the coldest part of it all. And Ryan didn’t know how to de-thaw from her abandonment. Joe helped, because he was Ryan’s world. Honestly, the only good thing about the marriage was the ball of optimistic sunshine. But he had bouts of crying and questions about why his mom left that kept Ryan awake and aching for hours. Wounded with nobody willing to help heal him. Maybe he’d always been that alone, that empty and unlovable-

Except one look of relief and the words ‘There you are’ in a bank full of people was enough to fill his heart to the brim again.

“Your kid’s way sneakier than the idiots in our town.” Luke glanced down at Joe with a grin that proved his next words were affectionate. “Like a damn little squirrel.”

“That’s my favorite animal!” Joe gasped out, and Ryan shook his head in disbelief. Two days ago, it had been a flamingo. He’d begged Ryan to buy him a lawn decoration of the pink bird, which Ryan had firmly said no to. They barely even had a lawn, and he knew that Joe would never play with it. The puppy dog eyes were hard to refuse, but Ryan was getting better at putting his foot down. They did not need the bird.

But then Joe asked Luke, who bought it before Ryan came back from the bathroom. Ryan wasn’t sure who he scolded more that night over chicken fingers and fries.

“Yup, you mentioned that. Six times.” Without an ounce of annoyance, Luke let Joe climb onto his lap, sitting cross legged so the toddler had a better seat. Green was smeared over Luke’s sweatpants from where Joe had dragged his knees, but like the amazing human he was, Luke didn’t show any regret over being a human jungle gym. “And remember what I told you each time?”

“Daddy’s favorite animal is a bunny,” Joe chirped back, and the long forgotten memory bubbled up too quick for Ryan to hide his blush.

“Luke!”

“What? I didn’t tell him why you like rabbits so much.” Except there was a grin on Luke’s face that was anything but innocent. Because how could it be, when Luke had never let him live down the time he walked in on Jonathan and Evan’s first time. He hand’t meant to blurt out ‘they were fucking like rabbits’ so loudly, and didn’t know that Mini had been recording the party. Craig got the perfect angle of Ryan nearly throwing himself down the stairs to escape the traumatizing experience. He wasn’t sure who had the tape anymore (maybe Panda, since his friend always liked to watch it whenever he was needing a pick me up), but Ryan had to guess that Luke watched it over a hundred times.

“We’re not talking about this,” Ryan said, sending Luke a meaningful look through his blush. “We need to talk about who’s going to clean this disaster you and my son created.”

“I’ve got the kitchen if you take the rugrat.” The offer of help was so simple, yet every time, it sucker-punched Ryan. Luke had not been expecting Joe when Ryan came back from California, blaming Jonathan’s ‘lack of understanding with the English language’ as to why he didn’t know. Ryan hadn’t been a fan of social media, and only kept in touch with a few old friends from the town. But like Joe was his own, Luke didn’t hesitate to jump into the fray with Ryan, helping out whenever he could. Being a cop meant weird hours and long shifts, but Luke never complained when he popped over to visit them after work. Ryan never needed to ask for help; Luke just gave it. Whether it was cooking Joe food while Ryan took a much needed shower, or picking out pjs as Ryan bathed the fussy kid, Luke was there to lend a hand and a smile right when Ryan needed it.

But for the life of him, Ryan couldn’t figure out why. Luke was attractive and single, and the talk of the town even now. It was hard to go into the supermarket without hearing one of the cashiers asking Ryan how Luke was doing. It was common knowledge in their little town where Luke spent most of his days, and it seemed people thought the best way to catch his attention was through befriending Ryan again. The jealousy and insecurity from high school reared up, and Ryan had to attack it with a fire hose to keep from Luke knowing. Luke had a right to date, to court whoever he wanted, because he didn’t owe Ryan and Joe anything-

“Uh oh, daddy’s daydreaming again.” Joe’s words and a snort of Luke made Ryan re-focus, turning his attention back to the two still on the floor. Luke looked so content with the toddler in his lap, and Joe showed no signs of discomfort being so close to the other man. They were covered in paint and his house was a wreck, but Ryan felt his heart swell at the warm image.

“Maybe you should go pick out your pjs so I can check in with your dad.” Luke’s words were like magic; with a quickness that he never had when Ryan asked him to move, Joe scampered out of the kitchen. Little purple footprints made Ryan groan, but his shoulders barely got to slump before warm hands were pulling him forward into a hug.

“You’re covered in paint,” Ryan protested weakly, though put up no real fight. The smooth hand that slid down his spine melted his stress away, and Ryan felt helpless to the urge of sinking into Luke’s warm chest.

“What did Tyler say?” Luke didn’t mince words, but kept his voice low against Ryan’s ear. There was no reason to shiver at the contact or intimacy of their position, because Ryan knew it meant nothing like what his heart hoped it would.

“He said this next court case will be the final one; she’s not fighting for any custody.” He should have been happy about the news, since it’d been what he and Tyler had asked for when discussing Joe’s fate. But it’d stung, knowing that even now, his ex-wife wanted nothing to do with the son they had created together. How did he explain that to Joe when he got older? When he asked questions about her, when he got angry and confused about his own self-worth? Ryan would do whatever he could to raise Joe with love and care, but fights would happen. They’d disagree over bigger things than eating broccoli or only reading two stories before bed. Who would Joe turn to in those moments? That was why he’d probably tried so hard with his ex-wife to begin with; he’d never wanted Joe to feel unsupported or disadvantaged because he’d only have Ryan.

But he couldn’t make her love Joe. And that killed him more than the divorce ever could.

“She’s an idiot.” Luke’s words of anger toward a woman he never met was unlike him. Charisma and open-mindedness were his middle name, never judging a book by its cover. But Joe’s mother seemed to be the one exception, Luke showing disdain toward her from day one. “She had everything anyone could ever want, and she gave it up like an idiot.”

“You really liked babysitting Joe that much, huh?” Ryan tried to make a joke, but his laugh was cut off when Luke grasped his shoulders and pulled him back far enough to force eye contact.

“I’m not just talking about him.” The serious gaze made it hard to breathe, Ryan’s chest stuffed with too much to sort through. His eyes blinked slowly, reminiscent of the unspoken feelings he’d shut down at the airport years ago. Now they oozed out without his permission, and he didn’t have a plane to help hide them this time around.

“I’m…I’m not-”

“Not what? Intelligent? Charming? Sweet? A great father that your kid would spend every second of the day with if he could? Not someone who deserves love?” Luke’s words were followed by a grin, a warm palm cupping Ryan’s face and slowly dragging a thumb under his wet eye. “Not the most amazing guy I’ve ever got to meet? Who, if I ever got the chance to call my husband, would never go a day without knowing how crazy in love with him I was? Cause I’ll tell you right now, you are all of those things. Every single one of them. You are worth so much more than you could ever know. And I’ll knock out any fucking moron who says anything else.”

“Luke…” But what could Ryan say? His stomach fluttered at the words, hope rising in his throat and keeping his vocal chords from speaking again. There was no room for protest, because Luke’s steady words and lack of hesitation proved the statements came from his very being. He really saw Ryan as something to brag about, as someone to keep. When his own wife, who was supposed to want him until death do them part, threw him away. Ryan knew he needed to say something, to give a response in some way to the confession (and Jesus, did Luke say he loved Ryan?), but his mind was too fuzzy and scared to speak and destroy the fantasy.

“Luke said a bad word!” Joe, however, had no such problems, and Ryan forced his eyes away from Luke to see his son with his hands pointing to the counter. “He needs to put money in the swear jar!”

“Oh, ri-right.” Ryan swallowed slowly and tried to focus, but a little peek at Luke from the corner of his eye made his heart jump into his throat again. His blush was deep, he knew it, but there was no saving himself. “You owe a dollar to the jar.”

Luke’s grin was a mile wide as he slipped past, dropping the bill into the jar while keeping his eyes set on Ryan. And when he spoke, Ryan knew he wasn’t speaking about the swear.

“So worth it.”

#hubcat99 #Ohmtoonz #Ohmwrecker #Cartoonz #Sultry boys #<3 #Crimson drabblez

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livingmybestfakelife · 4 years ago

Text

The Favorite -4 of ?-

Parings: Tommy Shelby x Black Reader

A/N: This is a filler chapter so not much goes on

Tags: @maryams-things, @princesscornbread

~Ellison Manor

Solomon, Delhana

New Years Eve 1912~

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And never brought to mind

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And days of auld lang syne”

You were picked up by your grandfather as he sung along with everyone else, it was the last night of the year and the entire country was celebrating a very successful one, the economy was at it’s strongest, Delhana won the most gold and silver medals in the African Games and your grandfather was crowned king after the passing of your great grandmother who lived to be 98 years old, he had been king for less than a year and was already a favorite with the people.

You cackled as he tickled you while spinning you around, he had been in a perfect mood all day, earlier that morning he woke you up so that you both could have a big slice of Shapphire Pie, as it was a New Years tradition in your country, it was basically blueberry pie topped with vanilla ice cream. Afterwards he took you out to a farm that was a couple of miles away and you fed some horses and some other farm animals, you wondered why Iman didn’t come along and he told you that it was yours and his special day, you didn’t get a lot of time to do it for the entire month of December, the closer the holidays had gotten the more busy your papa was, being the head of the Church of Delhana meant having to deal with business that came along with it, setting up food drives and other charitable work kept him on his feet but now he had some free time and wanted to spend it with his family, especially you.

“Careful there baba, she just had five slices of turkey and cake, don’t want her to mess over herself”

“Aww she’ll be alright son, she’s a tough one ain’t you my girl”

“That’s right Papa!”

He puts you down and you reach over to hold his hand as he guides you over to the grandfather clock to wait for the time to hit midnight, as soon as it does the entire room roars out a “Happy New Year” while a footman pops open some sparkling cider and pours it in some glasses, Papa picks you up again and gives you a big kiss on the cheek which makes you giggle before giving him one back.

Your father looks over at the special moment and for a second he’s a little envious, you adore your dad, that much is true but it’s not as close as when you were around your grandfather, and he knows the reason why, him and his wife, he knows that he shouldn’t given that fact, but he’s raised you up so far and wants you to be more attached to him, all he can do is hope that you’ll grow apart from him slowly through time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pandora’s Box

London

It was difficult to keep up good spirits but you were doing well so far, even with no updates yet on the status of everyone back home. You had to be strong and do what you were instructed, you decided that a good distraction would be attending a party that you were invited to tonight at a club called Pandora’s Box, you were informed that it would be a good networking opportunity since some important political men and society women would be attending.

You put on your gorgeous pink dress and your mother’s necklace then left with Abel by your side, he checked over the guest list and made sure that the place had heavy security three hours before you both would be showing up just to be safe. He helped you in the car and you were on your way to famous local club, from what you heard you would have a private room set up for you in the back with drinks on the house, it seemed that just about everywhere you went the locals went out of their way to kiss up to you, and would they be crazy not to? You were royalty after all, a good review from you would mean more good business.

“Thomas Shelby is meant to be joining us tonight, he called while you were getting ready and asked if he could join us, he’d like to talk business, I told him that it would be up to you”

“I guess that would be okay”

“What kind of business do you think he wishes to discuss with you?”

“Well he’s a politician so I’m guessing it’s to talk politics, England wants more of our business, he, like the rest of them believe that I could put in a good word about them to papa, like he’ll listen”

“Are we thinking about the same papa? Because yours is wrapped around your finger, of course he’ll listen to you”

“Well...yeah, but it’s not completely up to him remember? It’s up to parliament really, he has power but not that much”

“True, but it wouldn’t hurt to try”

“I suppose not...”

It was then that you remembered that you didn’t even know if your papa was even okay, you spent all this time pretending and forgetting that you...well, forgot.

“My god, we don’t even know what’s going on over there”

“I’ve received a telegram this morning, no one in the family was harmed, but they’re currently in a undisclosed location at the moment until they are sure it’s safe to come out, my apologies on not telling you sooner, but you needed to keep your mind on other things, given how busy your schedule was”

“I understand, Abel, no apologies is necessary”

A weight was lifted from your shoulders then, at least you know that much, still you couldn’t wait to be reunited with them, you became homesick the second you stepped onto the docks in the beginning of your stay. Once you arrived at Pandora’s Box you were greeted by patrons who bowed or curtsied to you, Abel of course couldn’t let his guard down completely, even though he would be out on the town with you he still had a job to do, he never likes to have days off, a workaholic the man was. It was just two years ago when you negotiated with him about taking a weekend off every two weeks and then a full week vacation every two months, it was the only deal he’d go with, looking back on it, it made you chuckle, he was fiercely loyal to the crown.

“Your royal highness, right this way”

A hostess led you both to the room that was set up for you towards the back of the club, and just as you expected, Tommy was standing by the double doors while smoking a cigarette, he appeared to be checking you out and admired the effort you put into your look for this evening, you couldn’t afford to look anything but presentable.

“Your highness, may I say that you look beautiful this evening”

“Thank you Mr. Shelby, you look nice as well, shall we?”

The doors were opened for you but you stopped in your tracks before entering

“I’m sorry but I must ask you to please put out your cigarette”

“No problem”

He rubbed the cigarette up against the exposed brick behind him before discarding it in a nearby trash can, you walk inside and admire the decor on the inside, it was elegant yet had a bohemian feel to it, there was art hanging on the walls that were risqué in nature, still it was quite tasteful in your opinion.

“I’m pleased that you decided to take me up on my request to speak to you”

“Business?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Political?”

“Personal , for myself and my families company”

“I see, please sit”

He thanks you in a nod and takes his place across the table before clearing his throat

“I don’t expect you to do me a favor without returning it, so name your price and I’m sure we can work something out”

Glancing over at Abel you noticed his interest in the conversation and was probably guessing what you would ask of Tommy.

“What is it that you need Mr. Shelby?”

“Your country’s economy is rather strong”

“Indeed”

“Lots of land, and mines, and...companies that I’m sure wouldn’t mind another investor”

“Depends on which company”

“Your cousin, she’s married to Kabir Best, the heir to his fathers mining company Hiltonhead Grove, it’s been going strong for the longest time”

“Mr. Shelby, perhaps you’d like to talk to my cousins husband about this, I have no say in that kind of business”

“Correct you are, but it seems that it’s been very difficult to get into contact with the people I need at the moment, most of the lines are down and the ones I do get I’m told that they’re unavailable”

“Then I’ll most likely not be able to either, doesn’t matter if I am the daughter to the heir of the throne, unless it’s an emergency then it’s out of my control, believe it or not I don’t have that much power”

“I see...well if you do manage to get ahold of someone then would you mind putting in a word for me, Mr. Best is after all apart of your family”

“I’ll see what I can do, no promises”

He nods his head then offers to pour your glasses of wine to make a toast

“None for Abel, he has to stay alert while on duty”

“I also don’t drink alcohol”

“That too”

“Well your highness, here’s to-“

You put down your glass which makes him freeze his speech, wondering what he’s done wrong

“I’m sorry your highness, something the matter?”

“I almost forgot, my favor”

He smirks before placing his glass down on the table as well then gestures for you to continue

“Of course, and what may I do for you?”

“You ever stolen some priceless jewels before?”

“I’ve done that before, yes”

“How about a marble bust that looks like it weighs over two hundred pounds?”

“That, I can’t say I have”

“Well I’m sure you will”

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #black reader

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steves-on-a-plane · 5 years ago

Text

Waiting For You

Words: 1597 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Timeline: Not Specific Request: “Omg u are taking requests? Can you write something about Bucky being readers boyfriend and she is just waiting for him to propose they have been together for yearssss and yearsss.” - Anon Summary: Bucky and Reader have been dating for seven years, but after dropping hints about wanting to get married for nearly a decade, Reader has finally accepted that it may not be in the cards for her and Buck.

You’d tried dropping hints over the seven plus years that you’d been dating Bucky. They were subtle at first. One time you left a stack of bridal magazines on the coffee table for a week to see if he said anything. Another time You started a conversation asking about which two colors he thought went best together. But over time the hints got less subtle. You talked about how nice your sister’s wedding was and how you couldn’t wait for your own special day. You’d read your friend’s Facebook posts aloud and talk about how they all seemed to be having kids. Every attempt seemed to go unnoticed.

“What are we watching tonight?” Bucky yawned as he snuggled up close to you on the couch. It was time for your weekly movie night and it was your turn to pick the movie.

“Twlight; New Moon.” You said pressing play on the remote. You draped a blanket across you and Bucky as movie started.

“The vampire movie?” Bucky sighed. “Didn’t we watch already?”

“Not this one.” You laughed. “There’s five of them.”

“Five!” Bucky complained. Alright well what happens in this one?”

“You’d know if you stopped talking.” You scolded him. You yawned and leaned against Bucky, your head resting on his chest. After only ten minutes Bucky had more questions.

“So Bella’s upset because she’s getting older and Edward is not? The dude’s 109!” Bucky exclaims pointing at the TV. He starts playing with a lock of your hair, twirling the strand around one of his fingers.

“But he looks seventeen.” You pointed out.

“That dude does not look seventeen!” Bucky argues. “Where’s my phone? I’m gonna Google how old this guy was.” Bucky strained to reach for his phone that was resting far away on the coffee table. He couldn’t quite reach with you laying on him. You handed him your phone without taking your eyes off the screen. “Ah-ha! I knew it!” He remarked a half-second later. “My dude was twenty-three when this movie was made.”

“Okay, but that’s not the point.” You sighed. “From Bella’s perspective, Edward doesn’t want to change her into a vampire at all. She’s thinks he is just going to stay with her until he she is too old for him and then he’d leave and move on. For Bella, it’s only ever going to be Edward, but she’s afraid that she will only ever be an insignificant blip in his life.”

“Why would she think that?” Bucky asked.

“Well, you’re missing the entire set up to the plot.” You whispered to him. “So please be quiet.”

As the movie played on Bucky eventually settled down and watched the movie. You were tired from the long day you’d had. You felt your eyelids grow heavy around the half-hour mark. You struggled to stay awake at first, New Moon was your favorite of the Twilight movies. But the security and warmth from being held in Bucky’s arms had you drifting off to sleep.

Two months past and you’d all but forgotten about that night. Your movie marathon had moved on from the Twilight saga and onto Harry Potter. You’d given up on dropping even completely obvious hints about getting married too. You’d been together for seven years, at this point either Bucky was going to propose to you or her wasn’t. You were through with trying to force it to happen. It was the morning of your birthday and Bucky surprised you with breakfast in bed.

“Eat up!” He instructed. “I’ve got a full day of activities planned for us!”

“What kind of activities?” You asked, offering him a waffle.

“I already ate.” He waved the food off. He sat on the bed next to and leaned back on his pillow. He kicked his feet up and started listing off activities. “Let’s see, Breakfast in bed was first on the list, so check. Then I was thinking you might enjoy kicking my butt at a few rounds of Luigi kart…”

“It’s Mario Kart.” You snorted, trying not to choke on your food.

“Yeah, but I like Luigi better and there aren’t enough games named after him.” Bucky told you. “So, we’re a Luigi Cart family in this house.”

“Okay.” You humored him. “And what are our plans after Luigi Cart?” ‘”I thought maybe we could go to the mall, do some shopping and eat at that restaurant you’re always trying to get me to go to but it’s closed on Sundays.”

“I can’t help it that the Chick-Fil-A curse means I only crave it on Sundays!” You exclaimed.

“Then after that I thought we could just come home and relax and snuggle. It’s been awhile since we’re spent the day just the two of us together.” He said.

“That sounds great, Bucky.” You agreed.

The day went mostly as Bucky described. You played Mario Kart for about two hours before heading to the mall. At the mall, Bucky was great about letting you drag him through all of your favorite stores. With your boyfriend’s arms weighed down with shopping bags, you took a break for lunch at Chik-Fil-a. A fast food restaurant that Bucky usually told you charged way too much for a food as cheap as chicken. Once you were all shopped out, Bucky drove you home.

“Just leave the bags in the car.” Bucky told you as he stepped out of the car. “I’ll cary them in later. I wouldn’t want my gal to lift a finger on her special day.” Bucky swoops in and kisses you before putting an arm around your shoulder.

“So movie night next?” You asked.

“Sure.” Bucky nodded. “But first, close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes? Why would I…”

“Humor me, please?” He asked.

“Alright.” You squeezed your eyes shut and let Bucky guide you into the house.

“SURPRISE!” You opened your eyes to see that Bucky had secretly put together a surprise party for your birthday. The house was decorated with streamers and balloons in lilac, your favorite color. There was a large six tire cake on display in the dining room, it too had lilac colored frosting and all of your friends were there, ready to celebrate the day with you.

“Wow! Thank you everyone!” You reached out and held Bucky’s hand. Parties or large gatherings weren’t really his thing so it meant a lot to you that he was willing to endure such a stressful envirement just for your birthday. “Thank you for putting this together.” You said, kissing him on the cheek.

“This is just the beginning, Babe.” Buck promised. “You guys hungry?” Bucky asks the crowd of Avengers around you. They reply with encouraging “Whoop-Whoop!”s and “Yeah!”s.

“We just ate lunch.” You frowned. “I don’t know how much more I can eat.”

“We’ll start with dessert then.” He said leading you into the dinning room. Bucky instructs everyone to gather around the table and with Steve’s help he removed the top layer of the cake. It is the smallest and probably only about four servings of cake.

“Do you remember a few months ago when we watched all of the Twilight movies?” He asked you. You nodded in response. “Well, those movies really got me thinking about something. Most of my adult life I’ve only ever seen myself as a monster. I thought I was destinted to be damned and I sure as hell didn’t think I’d ever catch the eye of a dame half as great as you.” Bucky reach out so that he was holding both of your hands in his. You were facing each other and looking directly into each others eyes.

“In a hundred life times, I’ll never understand how anyone so amazing could love me.” He continued. “And I don’t ever want my anxiety to get in the way of loving you. I don’t want to risk losing you because I was too afraid to let you know how I really feel. Happy Birthday [Y/N].” He sealed the birthday wish with a kiss.

“Thank you, Buck. No candles?” You teased him as you sized up the beautifully decorated but candle-less cake. Bucky didn’t comment as he handed you an ornamental cake knife. “Did you buy a cake knife just for this?” You asked him.

“It’s ours!” Clint shouted from where he stood in the back of the dining room with one arm holding his wife Laura close to him. “Think of it as something borrowed.” He told you cryptically. Holding the cake knife carefully you cut into the cake. You cut a small quarter out of the cake and slid the wedge out.

“I need a plate.” You laughed, completely missing the small silver object glistening inside the cake. “And a fork.” You added as Steve held up an empty plate to you.

“We’ll get you a fork later.” Bucky said. He takes the plate out of your hands and set the piece aside. “This wasn’t how I thought this was going to go but…” Bucky stuck his fingers inside the cake and seemed to dig something out of it. You couldn’t help but gasp when he produced a silver ring with a sapphire set atop it. “Something new, and blue.” He commened before lowing himself to the ground. “[Y/N] [Y/L/N], I’m sorry I made you wait so long, but will you make me the happiest mna on the planet and marry me?”

“I literally thought you would never ask.” You told him. You dropped down onto the ground so that you were kneeling next to him and threw your arms around his neck.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Reader Insert #Bucky Barnes FF #Bucky Barnes Fan fic #Bucky Barnes Fan Ficiton #Request

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