#blurred lines: an english christmas
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santa doesnât know you like i do
summary: in which matty tells you you are everything he wants.
warnings: angst, but honestly not much.
a/n: felt inspired by sabrinaâs fruitcake. hopefully a first of many christmasâ short one shots.
English is not my first language !
The moment Matty had started growing facial hair, everyone knew. They just knew, it was obvious, that you finally had him entranced and with no sign of turning back.
âYou would look really good with a beardâ and just a man in love would follow through and through to show you how much he listens to you.
But how comeâ when he looks at you from afar all lovey-dovey, takes you by the waist when talking to other people, and tells everyone he wrote songs about you mid-concertâ the two of you hadnât made it official?
And here you stand, in the middle of a Christmas Eve party at Charliâs and Georgeâs, taking a sip of eggnog while Matty is lively talking to his bandmates, and youâre just there. Alone.
Maybe itâs your boring white Rory Gilmore sweater. Maybe itâs your blurred lipstick from earlier, after you kissed Mattyâs tears away from his cheeks right after he told you about Pitchfork naming him Villain of the Year. Or maybe itâs the eggnog thatâs making you a little dizzy.
You put the glass down and take a glass of water from the kitchen. That is when you feel a pair of familiar hands around your waist, making you put the glass on the counter and whip your head to the side with a smile.
âHey gorgeousâ Matty says with his usual raspy, (goddamn) sexy voice tone.
âHi,â you say in response âwhatâs up?â
âJust wanted to see how my girl was doing,â he tells you, kissing your cheek and making your face grow hot âletâs go talk to the guys, okay?â
âOkayâ you answer softly.
He guides you back to his circle and this time around things go more swiftly than before. You have always gotten along with Mattyâs friends, but it was just that situationship factor that didnât make you feel good around them. Like, why was Matty keeping you there if you werenât, at least officially, his girlfriend? Heâd never asked you the question, heâd never hinted at it at least, he just introduced you to new people as âY/N, my friend.â
âCan I go home with you after the party?â
Matty scrunched up his nose at your question.
âOf course. Why are you asking? You always stay at mine, right?â
You gave him a weak smile and nodded.
âYeah⌠Just needed to get sure.â
Matty immediately noted the way you werenât comfortable at all, you saw it in the way his eyes shifted from confused to harshness.
âCome on, letâs just go now.â
âWhat? No, youâre having a great time now.â
âBut clearly youâre not,â Matty says a little louder than expected, and you lift your head from his to look around with a small frown âwhy do you care if someone hears us?â
âI donâtâ Just, come on, letâs go talk somewhere more private.â
Taking his hand on yours, you drag him to one of the empty bedrooms, closing the door behind you with a sigh.
âIâd be making a joke about you wanting to get me alone and shit, but honestly youâre scaring me a bitâ Matty commented, furrowing his brow as he took your other hand in his.
âIâm okay justâŚâ you sighed âMatty, what are we?â
There it was, the question that would probably scare him away. For good or for bad, it had to be asked.
âWhat do you mean?â Matty asked, even more confused.
âI mean⌠Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? Friends with benefits? Friends that sometimes hook up?â
Matty put his lips in a thin line before answering.
âY/N, we started this because you wanted just to fuck.â
That makes your heart drop, and you have to fight the urge to sigh in defeat.
âYeah, I know, but itâs been almost a year, and⌠I mean⌠I like being with you.â you explain to him, biting your lip slightly before continuing talking âWe go on dates and we have clothes at each otherâs apartments. Weâre close. Weâre not just a couple of people that want to fuck anymore!â
Matty was startled by the way your voice had risen and your cheeks were starting to get red from frustration. And so were you, but you didnât care, this needed to be finally solved.
âBabe, breathe.â
âBreathe? How do you want me to breathe?!â you asked him, slipping your hands off his to put them in your head âI think I have the right to say that out of the people in that room, I know you better than anyone. Weâve been through each otherâs good and bad Matty, why⌠Canât I be the one to give you everything you want?â
Matty immediately steps up to you and takes your hands off your head, placing them on his chest so you can feel just how warm he is. His eyes pierce into yours and then you feel it. His heartbeat, going a hundred times a minute. It makes you flustered that just like that, he can calm you down, but once more, it perfectly shows how good he knows you.
One or two curls fall onto his forehead as he looks straight into you and starts talking. You curse in your head that even in this time and place he looks freaking gorgeous.
âY/N, I didnât make anything official because you never told me you wanted to make it official,â you open your mouth to argue but he doesnât let you speak âno, donât argue against that. Communication is the key if we want something formal between the two of us, and God knows Iâve been craving to be with you and brag about you ever since you asked me to be your fuckfriend, but I didnât do it because I thought you didnât want to.â
You gulp and frown. It is true, the two of you didnât communicate clearly with one another.
âYeah, you are⌠Right,â you say with a sigh, squeezing his hands in yours for reassurance. He does the same in response and that makes you blush in a soft manner âwhy didnât you say anything though?â
Matty raises an eyebrow.
âDid you just see yourself? You were almost breaking this off.â
âWhat?! No I wasnât!â
âYes you were,â Matty said, a small smile on his lips âyouâre neurotic sometimes babe.â
âOh shut up.â
âMake me.â
In a swift and quick move, you land a kiss on his lips, and when you pull back with a smirk, he puts a hand on your neck and pulls you in to devour your lips fervently, but quickly, leaving you dizzy as he pulls back.
âThere,â he says, smiling widely now as he watches your eyes blurry with love and happiness âhappy?â
âVery much.â
Matty smiles and grabs you in a hug, squeezing your body against his as you huff out a âI hate youâ and he murmurs a âAnd I love youâ. After pulling back you hook your arms on his neck and he puts his hands on your waist.
âOh and Y/N?â he asks in a whisper.
âWhat?â
Matty leans in, kisses your cheek and says to your ear:
âYou are the one that can give me everything I want.â
#matty healy#the 1975#matty healy x reader#ross macdonald#matty healy fluff#matty healy oneshot#matty healy imagine#matty healy fanfic#matty healy fanfiction#matty healy one shot#matty healy drabble#matty healy fic#the 1975 angst#the 1975 x reader#the 1975 fic#the 1975 imagine#the 1975 fanfic#matty the 1975
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đđĄđđŹđ˘đ§đ đđĄđđ đđđđĽđ˘đ§đ | bang chan
kpop | giuliadesu
fem!reader â fluff â 1.4k
chasing that feeling by tomorrow x together
if it wasnât for the giddiness you felt bubbling inside you, you wouldnât have believed in the turn of events the last few days brought.
it was the last day before christmas holiday in the school where you taught english. the day was slowly moving towards a cool yet pleasant evening, with kids scurrying around to bid goodbye to teachers and friends before heading home, and faculty members stopping by a bit longer to chat before the long awaited break.
snow had started to coat the streets of seoul a couple of hours prior to your exit from the premise of the building. a smile crept over your face, as you enjoyed the feeling of the cold flakes gently landing on your skin, making your way to the metro station to head home.
after that, it was a flurry of events: chan had visited your apartment (thanks to the spare key you gave him) and left a small envelope on the console table near the door; it contained train tickets for a small skiing location in the gangwon-do prefecture, along with a tiny note handwritten by him.
âhey pookie! the guys and i have rented a cabin in this small village for the holidays, come join us! and no, we donât accept a negative answer ⥠iâll pick you up at the stationâ
you had just enough time to change into more comfortable clothes, pack a suitcase with warm clothes and your skiing gear, grab the presents for the boys and off you were towards the train station!Â
you and chan had a bit of something going on, it was clear to everyone. the fine line between friendship and romance had started to get more and more blurred, with both of you making clear moves and statements that made it obvious you were in love with one another â despite not having confessed yet.
it was easy, considering you were both big on physical affection; hugs, naps together, holding hands whenever, soft kisses placed over cheeks or foreheads, tons and tons of cuddling⌠the kids were almost exhausted of hearing you say that you were just friends. friends didnât behave like that and didnât look at each other like that.
they were just hoping that the amounts of mistletoe hanging around the cabin and the festive atmosphere would give you the final push.
the 25th was a very sunny day, the majority of which was spent outside in the snow â whether skiing, snowboarding or simply chilling together.
then, after dinner, you all gathered on the carpet to exchange gifts, a warm glow coming from the lit fireplace. unsurprisingly, you and chan were sitting one next to the other, his arm lazily draped around your waist, while your hand would occasionally come to rest over his thigh.
while the other kids were busy opening the matching sweaters youâd gotten them (and throwing a tantrum over who wore it better), you took the chance to give chan his very own christmas present.
it was a small box, and just from the outside he realised it must have come from a very expensive jewellery brand. he sent you a glare, to which you replied by sticking out your tongue.
the black ribbon came off together with the lid, revealing the equally dark inside of the package. resting on a velvety cushion was a silver dog tag, engraved on both sides. the first thing chris noticed was how it perfectly matched the style of his chain bracelet. then, the quote on the front caught his attention: together forever, never apart; maybe in distance, but never at heart. the back also had something etched on it â the korean names of his friends.
his eyes shot up to meet yours, and you swore they were almost glossy.
âi donât even know what to say⌠itâs just perfect.â
then he lifted you up from the floor and put you on his lap, hugging you tightly. you returned the hug immediately, your arms going around his neck.
âyou donât have to say anything. just know that the sentence speaks the truth and you are so, so loved.â
his grip tightened even more around your mid and you smiled in the crook of his neck, placing a gentle kiss there. he found himself willing to chase the feeling of your lips, although he knew it was not the moment.
âput it on for me, please?â
later that night (or was it the wee hours of the morning?), well past the time everyone had gone to bed, chan found himself in the kitchen, trying to make a hot chocolate. he regretted not wearing a shirt over the short, grey sweats he used to sleep the second some hot milk droplets landed on his chest.
âyou should be more careful when cooking, mister bang.â
he jolted in surprise, and you couldnât hide the giggles that left your mouth.
he was about to retort, but when he turned around and saw you wearing his very oversized hoodie over your definitely-not-wintery pyjamas, the words died in his throat.
âdo you want some hot chocolate?â
the way your eyes lit up pulled a chuckle out of him, and he went to grab a second cup from the shelf. while he had his back turned to you, you went and hugged him from behind, your arms snaking around his waist and resting on his abs.
âthank you for inviting me here. i donât think iâve ever had this much fun over the holidays.â
one of his hands came over your own, giving it a gentle squeeze.
âhey, donât mention it! thatâs what⌠friends are for, right?â
you felt a slight tinge of weariness in his voice, and you couldnât help the small pang of disappointment in your chest.
âright, friendsâŚâ
a relatively comfortable silence fell over the small kitchen of the cabin. while chris finished preparing the beverage, you stayed glued to his back. you could feel his warm skin, the way his muscles moved with every action, the faint sound of a song he was humming.
chocolate now safely poured inside the mugs, the boy turned around.
âwait here a second for me, yeah?â
without even waiting for an answer, he lifted you up and sat you on the counter; then he disappeared in the living room, where faint lights from the christmas tree created shadows over the walls.
he came back a few moments later, a small box in his hand. it was very similar to the one you presented him a few hours earlier.
âi know i shouldâve given this to you before, but i didnât want the guys to make fun of me.â
he laughed while coming closer, and you instinctively parted your legs to allow him to stand right in front of you. the dog tag caught on the dim kitchen light. you smiled.
he started humming a tune again, probably to ease the nerves. you recognized it as chasing that feeling by txt.
you couldnât contain the giddiness bubbling inside you while carefully unpacking the present. the white box contained a bracelet, whose very thin chain matched that of the necklace youâd gifted him, and the small charm dangling from it was of two hands making a pinky promise.
wordlessly, yet with a warm smile across your features, you moved your arm in front of chris, the bracelet in your other hand. while he was hard at work at unclasping it and wrapping it around your wrist, you caught a glimpse of the two words etched on the back.
â⌠is it a confession?â
âonly if you want it to be.â
the smiles on both of your faces were already enough of an answer, yet the moment needed something more.
one of his hands cupped your cheek, while one of yours gently took a hold of the dog tag.
chris stopped one millimetre away from your lips, still giving you the chance to turn down both his confession and the kiss.
âna sungmyeonga, come and kiss me, i just keep on chasing that feeling.â
with a slight tug on the necklace his soft lips landed on yours.
it was a sweet kiss, all smiles and giggles. your hands came over his wrists while both of his were now holding your face.
and boy, did you both chase each otherâs feelings with your mutual pining!
the next morning, no one was surprised to find the both of you sleeping on the couch, necklace and bracelet on full display. apparently, the smiles on your faces were enough for everyone to know that you finally belonged to one another.
Š giuliadesu. please do not copy, translate, use in videos or reupload on other platforms and sites. it is strictly forbidden to feed any part of my content to ai.
#đ¤đŠđ¨đŠ#đŹđđŤđđ˛ đ¤đ˘đđŹ#đđđ§đ đđĄđđ§#đđĄđđŹđ˘ďż˝ďż˝đ đđĄđđ đđđđĽđ˘đ§đ #kpop#kpop x female reader#kpop x reader#stray kids x female reader#stray kids#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#stray kids x you#skz fluff#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz#bang chan x reader#bang chan#bang chan fluff#bang chan x female reader#bang chan imagines
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modern/other worlds au fic recs
bucky barnes x reader
â¤ď¸ = fluff đ = angst đĽ = smut
one shots:
pièce de rÊsistance - @viollettes
You get creative after you forget to get a Christmas gift for your best friend. â¤ď¸
so money - @viollettes
Bucky, an associate at the Law Offices of Fury, Hill, and Stark, must deal with an annoying Rumlow. It certainly doesnât help that Rumlow thinks he can get any girl in the office, including a certain junior partner Bucky has a crush on. â¤ď¸
strangers in the night - @redgillan
Youâre on a date, but things arenât going well. You find refuge in the restroom where you meet a man whoâs also having a bad night. Together, you make an escape plan â¤ď¸
ball, chain & satin - @redgillan
âCan you write a one shot where Bucky and Reader are getting married, but Bucky is scared. Angst or fluff, itâs up to you. Thanks!â Requested by Anonymous. â¤ď¸
protecting what's his - @jobean12-blog
Bucky has been your bodyguard for some time now and it's been hard to deny how badly you want him to be more than that â¤ď¸
keeping score - @all1e23
After hearing you begging Steve to pretend to be your fake boyfriend to keep your family off your back, Bucky quickly jumps at the chance to play your boyfriend even though youâre a hundred percent sure he hates you. What could possibly go wrong? â¤ď¸
warm - @teamatsumu
âThe fire alarm in our building went off and you rushed out without a coat. Wanna share my blanket?â â¤ď¸
leave me weak - @moonbeambucky
Donating blood was the last thing you wanted to do but you find that something else leaves you weak. Paramedic!Bucky â¤ď¸
bookmark my heart - @moonbeambucky
A handsome single dad catches your eye at the library. Is he the one or will your love be shelved? â¤ď¸
what's on the inside - @teamatsumu
The readerâs car breaks down and has to be taken to an auto repair shop to be fixed. The mechanic there is a huge, intimidating man, but with a heart of gold that immediately piques her interest. mechanic!bucky â¤ď¸
convergence of the twain - @sinner-as-saint
Y/n always had a crush on her English Lit professor, Mr. Stan. She planned on keeping her one sided love a secret, however fate decided otherwise. â¤ď¸đĽđ
redamancy - @renxzs
 Roommate AU - Maybe it was a bit naive to think moving in with your best friend and long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, was going to be some smooth road that led to an admittance of mutual feelings for one another and a happily-ever-after ending, wrapped up nicely in a bow. Naive indeed; especially when you have to consider the fact that Bucky is the biggest womanizer you know. â¤ď¸đ
soft - @softlyspector
Bucky and the reader have been together for a few months. She wants him to stay the night with her, but heâs reluctant. Modern!AU. Tattoo Artist!AU â¤ď¸đĽ
let me love you - @sinner-as-saint
Things happened between you and your boss over a weekend recently; while on a business trip. Boundaries were crossed, lines were blurred â rather salaciously. Following this; you decide to resign from your dream job because you couldnât handle the guilt of having been so unethical. So vulnerable and open. Neither could you handle his burning stare at work, nor the craving of being under him each time you looked at him. So you decide to leave before you ruin your own career and further. But then, your boss shows up at your doorstep â determined to make you realize that this isnât so bad after all⌠â¤ď¸đĽ
the karens of the world - @espinosaurusrexex
Aunt Karen is possibly the worst person you know. So when her annual Independence Day party arrives, you try to give her as little reason to pick on you as possible. Not being single for once should cover most of the topics she complains about. So you ask your friend Bucky to play pretend â¤ď¸
in a moment - @world-of-aus
Five instances when Bucky Barnes promises to give you the world, and one time he actually does â¤ď¸
the forever third wheels - @witchywithwhiskey
it's the weekend of your town's annual valentine's day carnival and you go with your group of friends, though you can't help but be sad you don't have someone special in your life. your friend, and fellow third wheel, bucky barnes makes it his mission to give you a valentine's day you won't soon forgetâand show you how special you are to him.â¤ď¸
no more losers - @witchywithwhiskey
your obnoxious roommate bucky barnes interjects himself in a conversation about your sex life, and things take a turn you didn't expect. đĽ
personal sessions - @angrythingstarlight
your new gym comes with a few perks. heated swimming pool, sauna, and your very own personal trainer. bucky barnes. and he has the best way of making sure you work up a sweat đĽ
aroma - @navybrat817
florist!bucky barnes x reader - bucky adores domestic moments with you â¤ď¸
cry baby - @buckymorelikefuckme
i want to be fucked so good that i cry, justâcompletely reduced to tears. is that too much to ask? đĽ
pizza and a movie - @navybrat817
mechanic roommate bucky - you never make it through a movie with bucky đĽ
anatomy - @navybrat817
mechanic roommate bucky - you help bucky relieve some stress after a long day đĽ
sleeping arrangements - @navybrat817
roommate bucky - you insist on sleeping in your own room, but bucky likes a challenge đĽ
starting gate - @navybrat817
motorcross!bucky - you attract the attention of your coworkers friend who just happens to be a handsome racer who plays for keeps â¤ď¸
closer - @tom-holland-parker
Youâd never felt like this before, it was like some primal instinct deep down inside of you. You just needed to be close to him. The only problem was that you were already wrapped in his arms and it still didnât feel close enough đĽ
unexpected - @pellucid-constellations
 With all of his rough edges and impassive glances, Bucky Barnes looked to be the last person youâd find at an elementary school bake sale. Too bad Steve couldnât make it, and dealing with a class hopped up on sugar wasnât a feat you could manage alone. â¤ď¸
if it were summer - @pellucid-constellations
You met Bucky in Italyâa summer abroad with sweet gelato and even sweeter words. You never thought youâd see him again, and you were right. Because the Bucky at this frat party, the one with the smirk and the wandering eyes, was nothing like the one you knew. That didnât mean he wasnât still completely in love with you đ
crossing the line - @jadedvibes
after you friends set you up on a blind date with your sworn enemy, you both drunkenly decide to mess with them by making a bet to see who can pretend to be a happy couple the longest â¤ď¸đđĽ
hearsay - @jadedvibes
your colleague makes you an interesting proposition after he overhears you talking about a bad hookup, beefy lawyer!bucky x lawyer!reader đĽâ¤ď¸
freak in the sheets - @buckycuddlebuddy
hearing the man youâve been fantasizing about had similar feelings for you had to be a dream. a best kind of dream. you never wanted to wake up. pairing â dilf!bucky barnes x babysitter!reader đĽ
sharing is caring - @theidiotwhowritesthings
Bucky doesnât share food. No exceptions. Well, one exception. â¤ď¸
on his knees - @sweetsweetnuit
even the king of the underworld has his weaknesses. buckyâs just happens to be a mortal woman he canât get enough of. đĽ
stranded - @bucksfucks
 when your car breaks down on the side of the road and your dad canât come rescue you, he sends the next best thing. đĽ
cock warming - @sweeterthanthis
Explicit language, hints of soft dom Bucky, slight daddy kink, and cock warming. Obviously đĽ
no script - @teamatsumu
Sebastian practices all his roles with you. This one is a romantic scene, and you donât know how to conceal your feelings as just acting when they are so much more. sebastian stan x reader â¤ď¸
sink or swim - @moonbeambucky
The feelings you harbor for your best friend comes to light after a breakup but will you lose everything once he learns the truth? roommate!bucky â¤ď¸đ
the sins of the father - @sunmoonandeddie
You were nothing more than the Siren, the She-Demon of the Seas. At least, thatâs what you thought. â¤ď¸đĽđ
awakening a beast - @rookthorne
There was an unspoken habit of yours that you seemed to continuously exploit at Buckyâs expense â at least this time, it ended in something that would have you squeezing your thighs together at the very memory. mechanic!bucky đĽ
not so forbidden - @vanillanaps
You were upset after a mishap that happened so your favorite bodyguard came to comfort you with good news. presidents daughter x bodyguard au â¤ď¸
well oiled machine - @vxntagedior
you canât seem to face bucky after crashing one of his cars mechanic!bucky â¤ď¸đ
#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes smut#modern au
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Next Episode is going to make me sad, I just know it.
Yai is going out of his way to invite Jom to things he enjoys and hopes that Jom will also enjoy - the Christmas party. However, Yai doesn't take into account which o t h e r people will be at this party.
Which we can see here when Yai realizes just how much he didn't expect to see James. See James or see Jom smiling at him so nicely when he's always only shown Yai that smile (I kind of blurred out the smile for Yai's reaction;;; my bad).
James has shown his interest in Jom from the beginning. He was very intrigued with the servant who spoke fluent English as that was how Jom spoke to him the first time they met. Since then, whenever James is in the area (i.e. visiting Yai's BIL), he seeks out Jom. Each time, Yai has stepped between them, but it doesn't seem like he will do the same this time. Maybe he's worried that, after seeing Jom interact with James, Jom might actually return James' feelings.
Which brings us to petty Yai claiming he doesn't need Jom.
That he can continue to do everything himself as he was doing before Jom came into his life and house. This is probably his attempt to brush Jom off so he doesn't feel he has to stay with Yai; even if Yai clearly would like him to stay. This all comes to a head, however, when Jom questions why Yai has been acting that way since the party.
I feel like Yai has long since forgotten his title when he's around Jom. As Yai's servant, Jom walks a very thin line anytime Yai shows him any kind of affection. It's a double-edged sword of sorts. Jom knows he likes men, but he's smart enough to realize the gravity of this time that he's been brought to. Jom is already pushing the line by requesting that Yai go and help out servants -- something no other 'master' would bother to do.
The more Yai shows favor for Jom, the more his father wants to squash Jom beneath his feet (I feel his mother is the same way). Neither parent probably expected a servant to play such a big part is getting their son to take charge of his role as the next master of the house. Jom's requests are also hurting Yai, but he's willing to do them for Jom.
This is obvious from a viewer's POV as to how Yai regards Jom. In the moment, however, Jom needs to survive if he's not able to return; even if he does like Yai.
It seems that Yai spells out his feelings for Jom another night (different shirt), but Jom's reaction is very guarded. As I said, Jom has to play this smart if he wants to survive.
We know from his dreams, however, that Jom does eventually give into his feelings for Yai. They were very comfortable sharing a bed and having small banter when Yai didn't want Jom to leave him.
I'm just curious how long Jom will be willing to walk that thin line.
Well, this is all just my thoughts. It could be totally wrong.
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I think every video game should have at least one of these modes to turn on. Just for fun.
Disco mode --- dancing characters/enemies, music is either disco variations of the originals or actual disco songs/instrumentals, disco ball appears in rooms, flashing multicolored lights, outfit changes to disco suits/70s aesthetic, collectibles become glow sticks
Lowkey disco mode --- the same as disco mode, except no flashing multicolored lights and the disco ball doesnât flash/glitter
Birthday mode --- all characters wear party hats, streamers/confetti come out of guns, balloons in rooms, collectibles become birthday themed (cake, pinatas, presents, etc.)
Clown mode --- all characters wear clown wigs/makeup, pain sounds become goofy honking noise, weapons become spray water bottles or pies, music becomes circus-themed
Silly Weapon mode --- weapon designs change to funnier variants (gun becomes water pistol, sword become baguette, etc.)
Paintball mode --- ammunition is paintball pellets, characters become painted when shot (instead of bleeding/showing wounds)
Costume mode --- characters can put on costumes
Cosplay mode --- characters can put on costumes referencing characters from other franchises
Pajama mode --- characters can put on night clothes/pajamas
Mascot/ Furry mode --- characters can put on mascot/furry suits
Christmas mode --- characters wear Santa hats and Christmas sweaters, Christmas decorations (trees, lights, etc.) in rooms, collectibles are Christmas-themed (candy canes, presents, etc.), music becomes Christmas-themed
Halloween mode --- some enemies wear things like rubber masks or witchâs hats, music becomes fun spooky (think âSpooky Scary Skeletonsâ or Nightmare Before Christmas vibes), collectibles become candy, your bag/inventory becomes Halloween-themed
Easter mode --- characters wear bunny ears, Easter decorations (pastel banners, etc.) in rooms, collectibles are painted Easter eggs and candy, your bag/inventory becomes an Easter basket
Accent mode --- all voice lines are in the (poorly done) accent of your choice
Beach/Vacation mode --- characters wear vacation clothes (swimsuits, Hawaiian shirts, shorts, cabana hats, sunglasses, etc.), music becomes tropical/easy listening, palm trees in various places, collectibles are beach-themed (shells, tropical drinks, etc.)
8 Bit mode --- graphics and music change to 1970s early video game quality
Rainbow mode --- characters wear rainbow-colored accessories, guns shoot rainbows
Fansub mode --- all voice lines/subtitles/text become grammatically incorrect in the style of old, originally Japanese games made into English for Americans or early fansubs of anime
Narrator mode --- adds a narrator who makes snarky comments about everything you do
JoJo mode --- characters/enemies strike JoJo-inspired poses in battles or equip menus, Special Moves change to use a Stand
Cowboy mode --- all characters wear cowboy hats, all weapons that are not guns become lassos, âYeehaw!â voice line when picking up a collectible, âHowdy partner!â voice line for starting a boss battle
Batman mode --- all hitting sounds are accompanied by word balloons (âWHAMâ, âPOWâ, etc.), comic book inspired graphics, everything you own is now bat-themed, enemies have items based off of Batmanâs enemies, scene transitions/loading screen use the one from the 1960s show (blurred background with a bat rotating), music is solely the theme from the 1960s show, you donât kill enemies (they instead go unconscious), you canât equip guns
Helium/Chipmunk mode --- all voice lines are higher
What are some of your ideas?
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The Pagan Roots of Christmas: From Saturnalia to Yule
As the holiday season approaches, we start to hear familiar carols and see twinkling lights lining the streets. But have you ever stopped to think about the origins of these traditions? While Christmas is widely celebrated as a Christian holiday, many of its customs actually stem from pagan rituals that predate Christianity. From Saturnalia to Yule, join us on a journey through history as we uncover the fascinating pagan roots of Christmas.
Introduction to the Pagan Roots of Christmas
Christmas is a holiday that is celebrated by Christians around the world on December 25th. The holiday commemorates the birth of Jesus Christ, but many of the traditions and symbols associated with Christmas have pagan origins.
The word âChristmasâ comes from the Old English âCristes maesseâ, which means âChristâs massâ. In ancient Rome, there was a festival called Saturnalia that was held in honor of the god Saturn. This festival took place from December 17-23 and was a time of feasting, gift giving, and merrymaking. Many of the traditions associated with Saturnalia were later adopted by Christians and incorporated into Christmas.
The use of evergreen trees and wreaths dates back to ancient pagan cultures who believed that these plants had magical properties that could ward off evil spirits and bring good luck. The Celts used holly, ivy, and mistletoe in their winter festivals, while the Norse decorated with evergreens during Yule (a winter solstice celebration). The custom of decorating homes and churches with evergreens at Christmas time is a tradition that has its roots in paganism.
The giving of gifts at Christmas time also has pagan origins. In ancient Rome, it was customary to give gifts to friends and loved ones during Saturnalia. The practice of giving gifts at Christmas time was later adopted by Christians as a way to symbolize the gift of Jesus Christ to the world.
Christmas carols are another tradition
Saturnalia, the ancient Roman festival, was held in honor of the god Saturn. The holiday was celebrated from December 17-23 and was a time of feasting, drinking, and merriment. Gifts were exchanged, homes were decorated with greenery and candles, and businesses closed down so that people could enjoy the holiday.
The Saturnalia festival was originally a one-day event, but over time it expanded to include an entire week of festivities. On the first day of Saturnalia, slaves were given a holiday from their work and were allowed to dine with their masters. This reversal of roles symbolized the freeing of humankind from the bondage of work during the winter months.
Feasting and drinking continued throughout the week, culminating in a grand public banquet on December 23rd. It was believed that during Saturnalia, the boundaries between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred. As such, offerings were made to deceased ancestors and special meals were prepared in their honor.
The pagan roots of Christmas are evident in many modern-day traditions. The exchange of gifts, decorating with greenery, and feasting are all carryovers from Saturnalia. So when you celebrate Christmas this year, remember its pagan origins and take a moment to enjoy the spirit of revelry that characterized this ancient festival!
Yule and its Origins in Germanic Paganism
The Pagan festival of Yule has its roots in Germanic paganism. The word âyuleâ comes from the Old English word for âwheelâ. This is a time when the sunâs power is at its weakest and the days are shortest. It was believed that during this time, the sun was reborn and that the new year began at Yule.
Yule was originally a 12-day festival celebrating the Winter Solstice. It was a time for feasting, drinking, and merrymaking. Gifts were exchanged, and people decorated their homes with evergreen branches and holly. The Yule log was burned in the hearth, and candles were lit to ward off evil spirits.
Today, many of these traditions have been adopted by Christmas. However, there are still some pagan elements that remain in our Christmas celebrations. For example, mistletoe is still hung in doorways, and yuletide logs are often used as decoration.
How Christianity Adopted these Traditions
When Christianity began to spread throughout the Roman Empire, its followers sought to find common ground with those who were not yet convinced of the new religionâs truth. One way they did this was by co-opting popular pagan traditions and giving them Christian meaning.
One of the most popular pagan traditions during the time of early Christianity was Saturnalia, a festival honoring the god Saturn. This festival was celebrated in December, and it involved feasting, gift-giving, and merrymaking. Christians saw an opportunity to turn Saturnalia into a celebration of Jesusâ birth, and so Christmas was born.
Another pagan tradition that Christmas adopted was the use of evergreen trees and wreaths as decorations. This practice originated with the Celtic people, who believed that these plants had magical properties that could ward off evil spirits. Again, Christians saw an opportunity to give this tradition new meaning by using evergreens to symbolize eternal life through Jesus Christ.
So, while Christmas may seem like a purely Christian holiday today, its roots can be traced back to pagan traditions that predate Christianity itself. By adopting these popular customs, early Christians were able to more easily win converts and spread their new religion throughout the Roman Empire.
Popular Christmas Traditions and their Pagan Roots
Christmas is a holiday that is celebrated by Christians around the world to commemorate the birth of Jesus Christ. However, many of the popular traditions associated with Christmas have pagan roots.
Saturnalia was a Roman festival that was held in honor of the god Saturn. The festival took place from December 17-23 and was characterized by feasting, drinking, gift giving, and merrymaking. Many of the traditions associated with Saturnalia, such as decorating homes with greenery and giving gifts to loved ones, were later adopted by Christians and incorporated into Christmas celebrations.
Yule was a pagan winter solstice festival that was popular in Scandinavia. The festival celebrated the return of the sun after the longest night of the year and lasted for 12 days. Yule traditions included decorating homes with evergreen boughs, lighting candles to ward off evil spirits, and feasting on special foods like roasted meats and sweet desserts. Like Saturnalia, many of these traditions were later adopted by Christians and became part of Christmas celebrations.
Modern Celebrations of Christmas and Paganism
Though Christmas is now a largely secular holiday, it still has many pagan roots. One of the most popular modern celebrations of Christmas is the Saturnalia festival, which was originally a Roman holiday honoring the god Saturn. The Saturnalia was celebrated with feasting, gift-giving, and merrymaking, and many of its traditions were later adopted by Christians.
Another popular pagan tradition that has been incorporated into Christmas is the Yule log. The Yule log was originally a large log that was burned in honor of the Norse god Thor during the winter solstice. Today, many people still burn a Yule log in their homes as part of their Christmas celebrations.
So while Christmas may be mostly secular nowadays, it still has plenty of pagan roots. If you want to get in touch with your inner pagan this holiday season, why not try celebrating one (or both) of these traditions?
Conclusion
It is clear that there are many pagan roots of Christmas and that it has evolved over time to become the festive holiday we celebrate today. From Saturnalia, Yule, midwinter festivals and more, these ancient traditions have been woven into our modern celebrations to create the unique blend of religion and commercialism that makes up Christmas in 2020. By understanding how far back these traditions stretch, we can better appreciate the origins of this wonderful season and continue to embrace its customs with reverence for years to come.
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Not to go out on a limb, but... The whole notion of cultural Christianity and the hegemony associated with it are inherently such wonderfully Occidental arguments. Cultural Christian hegemony is understandable because of the way in which power relations play out internationally, but they tend to fall apart a bit in scenarios that don't necessarily refer to the USA or France.
Cultural Christianity and it's argument presumes that the subject population is not welcome to the imposition of Christian cultural practices. But in cultures that are wholly colonial, or at least, at the intersection of colonial and "traditional", this line is blurred. This dichotomy, of a Christian imposition of cultural values and a local resistance to it, don't necessarily exist.
I live in the city of Kolkata, formerly Calcutta - colonial city par excellence. It was built by the English East India Company, became a political and economic centre with the growth of colonialism and struggled to deal with the transition to post-colonial India, where it found itself sort of ideologically defeated by Delhi and Mumbai, the political and mercantile hubs of an independent India.
This 300 years of only colonial Christian influence, resulted in an interesting inter-mixing of cultural practices. Other than the fact that the way the city has grown and the urban development of the city still uses colonial planning as it's bedrock, there are two festivals I want to draw your attention to.
The first is the quintessential Bengali festival, Durga Pujo. The worship of goddess Durga in this case lasts 10 days, and you'll find analogous festivals in other parts of India - most notably Navratri. You'll find two crucial differences in the Bengali festival - the consumption of meat, a strict no-no on Hindu religious practice; and a sort of public irreverence for adherence of stricture and tradition.
The permissability of meat came with traditional Hindu families making concessions for rich Englishmen who were trading partners, political allies and in certain cases, friends. They also often contributed directly to the puja itself. This eventually became the norm and that's how you have a mainstream Hindu (not tantra) religious practice allowing for the consumption of meat.
The publicisation of religion that also took place in this very period of time converted the otherwise domestic pujo into a larger practice of community engagement. Since the people needed to be engaged and tied together through processes that would allow for governmental legitimation through support of indigenous religions, the sarbojanin pujo (public pujo) developed, which was less for devotion and more for spectacle. This would indirectly, lead to the modern theme pujo, which is known for its inherent irreverence and it's love for art and splendour.
This is like, extremely condensed (for more refer to Tapati Guha Thakurta's "In The Name of the Goddess". But this intriguing interaction of the colonial with the indigenous takes place that becomes part of this larger culture that the city developed. The other festival is one that at least in other parts of the world, is far more controversial - Christmas.
What crucially needs to be remembered is that Christmas was and isn't a religious festival in Kolkata. In fact, the religiosity of it is extremely miniscule in the larger scheme of things. As Christmas would initially be a holiday under the colonial state - a day off for everyone - it ended up fostering a practice of Christmas becoming a family holiday marked by horrid Santa caps, plum cakes and making merry in public parks and zoos and the sort. This was, literally institutionalised by the state, with the Christmas market and festival that developed in the city centre featuring music, cultural events and more. Several other organisations, such as the theatre troupe Nandikaar, also redid their schedules to match the public holidays surrounding Christmas to gain traction. And now you have a weeklong music festival coupled with food and handicrafts and the crowds can become maddening to the point that it causes the entire city to come to a standstill.
And the fun part of this?
Kolkata defends these with its life. The Hindu revivalist right-wing, is understandably from their perspective, appaled at what is a debasement of high Hindu culture and the appreciation of foreign implantations into Indian society. And this, leads to what has atleast on one occasion resulted in violence stemming from the Hindu right's attempt to control Bengali cultural expression. But the vast majority of urban Bengal and substantial sections of its hinterland have defended these practices vehemently and sometimes, vengefully. Is that then continued colonisation? It's difficult to say, because the ways in which urban Bengali Hinduism and culture has been influenced by the colonial presence has made it impossible to dissect the two without getting rid of it completely. Everything that sets the city's cultural practice apart in the country is its colonial heritage, and to undergo deconstructive decolonisation would mean complete assimilation with the national practice, which, would mean local specificities would cease to exist.
I'm quite sure similar contradictions exist in Hong Kong and Singapore, the two other colonial metropoles, and they have their own practices developed in conjunction with their specific histories. Similar practices evolved in French colonies in India - Chandannagar still has an extensive French speaking population, and it actively protects it with aid from the French government.
At least what i wrote all of this is, maybe cultural Christian hegemony isn't universal in the sense that it's universally oppressive, but rather, universal in the sense that it affects everyone. Maybe considering it oppressive has more to do with the relations communities hold to it in certain nation-states.
Basically, to us in the East, this isn't a black or white argument. To me, born and raised in a city defined by its proximity to colonial power, the conception of Christian hegemony is difficult to fathom, because we'd have not been what we are without it, and expecting that decolonisation is the abandonment of it thus puts a locally unique culture at risk of extinction.
Also, more recent historical scholarship, contradictorily shows the involvement of Indians in the establishment of the company state that would become colonial - then this begs the question, was it even hegemonic? Or was it participatory? Depending on which historiography you choose to follow, your answer will differ, but it won't ever be one or the other.
And in the West, where cultural Christian hegemony is the nature of the state, it acts and causes people to react differently, to the way in which these relations play out in societies with different histories. Decolonisation isn't simply abandoning colonial vestige, progress towards indigenisation isn't simply becoming the "true native".
Things I would prefer to be called rather than âculturally christianâ
+ Raised christian
+ Has a christian background
+ Exchristian
These still acknowledge a personâs history with christianity while also respecting the fact that they have left it. Hope this helps!
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Blurred Lines: An English Christmas // h.s.
Late because life is messy sometimes, but I hope you enjoy regardless. x
âItâs New Years,â you protested.
âItâll still be a new year tomorrow, they can see us then.â
You wanted to argue but somehow you couldnât find the strength. The next thing you knew, he was counting down next to your ear, quietly, breath warm on your skin.
âTen⌠nine⌠eightâŚ.â
So many things had changed this year. When the last one had rolled around, youâd been alone, drunk, wondering if it was appropriate to text your international musician bootycall a happy new year and petrified of how he might take it. Now, said bootycall had turned boyfriend and heâd all but begged you to spend the holidays with him, and there you were, tucked in his car with his family inside.
âFive, fourââ
âI love you.â
âTwo,â mixed with a laugh, his hand was already on your cheek and you just caught sight of his eyes. âOne⌠happy new year!â
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Right around the time heâd been in the city for SNL, the first of the deep freeze spells had claimed the city. It was the type of cold that froze your knuckles stiff if you didnât pull your gloves on before going outside, and sometimes even if you did. Sixth Avenue and Rockefeller Plaza were transformed from when heâd been there just over a month ago â the tree was lit in all its glory, though you did your best to steer clear. Pickpocketing did not a holly, jolly Christmas make.Â
Standing on 34th street, you took a deep breath, eyes stinging as you took in the Macyâs display. Just the wind, you told yourself. And yet, the ache that accompanied it stayed even when you were tucked inside your place, the little faux Christmas tree in the corner twinkling away, merry and bright.Â
Just about a month ago, youâd been in bed together, A Christmas Carol on in the background while youâd straddled him and heâd chased the kisses he was so in demand of.Â
âYouâre crazy,â youâd sighed when heâd made his suggestion into your neck.Â
âAn English Christmas,â heâd said. âMet Jeffrey and that wasnât so bad, was it?â
âManager and mum are different animals.â Youâd massaged his scalp, gently finger combing his curls. âBut I did like how surprised he was.â
Harry had chuckled and pulled back to beam up at you. âYeah, me too. So, what say we do that again?â
Sighing but smiling, youâd cupped his cheeks. âFlights are through the roof by now,â youâd said stroking the smooth patches above his stubble. âAnd Christmas in New Yorkââ
âI know, Iâve seen it,â heâd said. âBut Christmas in EnglandâŚ.â Heâd puckered his lips and youâd granted him a kiss. âIce skating at Winter Wonderland....â
âIce skating at Bryant Park,â youâd countered and heâd chuckled.Â
âMulled wine by the fire.â
âCocoa over a subway grate.â
âMe.â
Heâd smiled softly when your breath hitched and youâd blinked. âMe,â youâd whispered and heâd tightened his hold around your waist.Â
âFair point, that is.â
Heâd left before youâd come to a resolution â a flurry of coats and scarves, your pajama pants slung low on your hips and toes freezing in your slippers as you kissed him goodbye outside your building and next to his car.
âMiss you.â Kiss. âLove you.â Kiss kiss.Â
âI love you, too.â Youâd squeezed him closer, seized with the idea to grab on tight enough he wouldnât be able to go. Heâd pulled back, though, and cupped your cheeks with another kiss.
âMerry Christmas.â Heâd grinned lightheartedly, but heâd knocked the wind out of you. You hadnât said a word back when he got in the car and you watched him drive off, shivering on the sidewalk.Â
The closer you got to Christmas, the worse it was, and worse still because you felt silly to feel so⌠sad. Youâd been apart last year! But last year⌠things had been different. Your world was smaller, and now everything was bigger. You together were bigger. Heâd asked you to spend Christmas with his family.Â
Too late and too close, though. Youâd looked â you had to at least take a look, didnât you? â and everything that turned up that didnât have a twelve hour layover somewhere was thousands. Heâd pay for it if you mentioned, but that wasnât right, or fair, and it shouldnât be expected of him just because he could.Â
Christmas in New York had never felt so blue.Â
The change of the wind happened very fast, then. Christmas music tinkled in the background in an effort for you to feel festive, and you were hanging new ornaments on your tree when your phone buzzed and an alert appeared. You squinted, gasping when you read it before it disappeared, and you nearly dropped Santa on his head in your haste to fumble with your phone.Â
âHarry,â you breathed. âHarry, HarryââÂ
It took ages for him to answer his phone â in reality, no longer than seventeen seconds, but when it could disappear at any momentâŚ.
Youâd just about given up on him answering when it stopped and you took a deep breath. âHey. Whatâs happening?â
âIâm ok,â you said. âBusy? Did I wake you?â
âItâs only half ten,â he said. âIâm at Mumâs. Eating some cheese, sitting by theââ
âIf I asked youââ You covered your mouth but stuffed back the apology for cutting him off and inhaled deeply, fingers shaking. âIf I asked you to pick me up at the airport, could you?â
âWhat? When?â
âThereâs a deal for Christmas Eve,â you said. âI could⌠Iâd stay through the new year, if⌠I mean, I can change the dates to see the price, butââ
In the most romantic corner of your mind, youâd nursed the idea of staying through and ringing in the new year together, but for all you knew, in the absence of your plans heâd made his own.
âWhere? Here?â
âManchester, yes,â you said, throat sticking. God, what if you were too late? âUnless Londonââ
âNo!âÂ
Immediate and vehement, you heard a distant voice. âHarry? Everything ok, love?â
âFine, Mum, mâââ He cleared his throat. âFine.â Lowering his voice, he asked, âChristmas Eve?â
âThrough New Years, if⌠if you donât have plans.â
âNo, plans, no⌠just⌠I was eating cheese, Iââ
You laughed softly.Â
âWhen did you decideâ?â
âIâve been watching it since you were here.â You gulped, short of breath in your excitement. âI didnât think anything would happen, though, itâs so last minute, and so⌠I mean, I know you haveââ
âWhat about your plans?â he asked.Â
âIâll change them.â Immediate and without thought, the words flew out of your mouth, and you went hot all over. âI mean, Iâll figure it out â this is a great opportunity, isnât it? An English Christmas?â
âItâll be enough to make you want to move here.â
âWeâll see about that,â you said. âSo, Christmas Eve? Iâll book it.â
âYou havenât?â he asked. âWhyâ?â
âI wanted to check!âÂ
âWhy would I say no?â
âShut up.â
Harry chuckled and you smiled despite yourself. âGood thing youâre coming,â he said. âGemâs been nagging me. Saying Iâm a Scrooge.â
âIâll send you the flight info when I get it, and Iâll book a hotelââ
âWhat? No,â he said. âYouâre staying here.â
Your stomach dropped. âI donât want to step onââ
âNot stepping on anything. Youâll stay here, Mumâll be fine with it. We can sleep in my room, itâsââ His breath hitched. âItâs fine, love.âÂ
Tingles made your fingers jittery and you swallowed hard. âIf youâre sure,â you said. âIâd like that.â
âDâlike it, too.â Silence lingered for a moment before he cleared his throat. âRight, go book that ticket, otherwise we havenât got anything to plan.â
***
Iâm going to be late.
The first glimpse of Manchester you had was of it covered in snow. Large flakes fell in slow motion, and a thin layer of slush coated the asphalt as you shivered on the pavement waiting for Harryâs car to pull up.Â
Heâd messaged you while you were on the flight warning that he was running behind schedule and the snow would have everyone on the road losing their minds. Youâd told him not to worry â a weather delay out of New York had kept you grounded, so however late he was, he would be right on time. Now, though, waiting for him, you wondered if you shouldnât have kept that bit of information to yourself to try to keep him on schedule.
Just when you were about to go back inside, fingers and knees trembling from cold and inexplicable nerves, you locked eyes on a pair of headlights growing closer and brighter on a car that had become quite familiar to you some months ago. It slowed, and just after it came to a stop, the door opened and a head of dark curly hair emerged followed by broad shoulders and long limbs.Â
âTold you Iâd be late,â he said.
Chortling under your breath, you quieted when he embraced you, warmed immediately, and you dug your nails into his shoulders, breathing deeply. Christmas. âYou kept me waiting long enough,â you murmured without venom, squeezing him closer.Â
âCould say the same about you.â He kissed the side of your head and you finally broke the embrace, fumbling to hand your bags over to him. He made quick work of storing them in his boot while you hurried around the opposite side of the car, and when he joined you inside, he rubbed his hands.Â
âRight. Whereâre we going?â
âYouâre not funny.â
Harry chuckled and fastened his seatbelt.Â
It was a long while of winding roads and peering out the window at the passing scenery before you mustered up the courage to ask, âSo, what do they know?âÂ
âWho?â Harry tilted his head your way but kept his eyes on the road. âMum and Gem?â
âYeah.â
He was silent at first and your stomach dropped. âGem already sniffed out something was up⌠but Mum was a bit caught off guard. Dunno if Iâd call her surprised, though.â
âI can stay somewhereââ
âDonât be silly.â He grabbed your hand. âItâs not even an issue.â
âI donât want to just barge inââ
âYouâre not barging, Iâm kidnapping you,â he said. âHolding you hostage in my motherâs house.â
You forced a smile and he glanced at you. âItâs Christmas Eve,â he said. âMum would let anyone in.â
âSo, Iâm not all that special?â
âNot one bit.â
Laughing, you said, âThatâs better, then.â
Still, when the car slowed and turned into a driveway, your heart felt like it was going to beat its way through your chest, and it just about stopped when he announced, âWeâre home.â
He led the way to the door with you on his heels and he pushed it open without fishing for keys. Warmth and the smell of something sweet slammed into you, and you stood there in shock as he maneuvered around you to close the door.Â
âSorry!â you said in a hushed tone and he smirked at you.
âSâokââ
âHarry?â A voice called through the house â warm and inquisitive â and muted footsteps followed.
âYeah?â he called back. âWho else?â
Footsteps grew louder and seconds later a woman slightly shorter than him with wide eyes, a pointed nose, and hair so dark it was nearly jet black appeared, wiping her hands on a garish Christmas hand towel.Â
âHello.â She smiled and held her hand out, leaning in for a quick kiss on the cheek when you shook it. âItâs nice to meet you.âÂ
âMum, this isâŚ.â Harry jerked his thumb at you. âAnd this is my mum, Anne.â
âItâs good to meet you,â you said. âItâs soââ You gulped. âThank you for having me.â Â
She smiled warmly, but before you could say anything else, Harry hunched in front of you.Â
âCâmon,â he said. âTake you upstairsâŚ.â
Suitcase in hand, he climbed the steps swiftly with you right behind him and rounded a corner into a room that was a time capsule of the late 2000s save for a few upgrades. It smelled almost exactly like his home in London, making it impossible to mistake who resided there.Â
âSmall,â he said, dropping your luggage on the floor. âBut itâs only for a little bit.â
âItâs nice,â you said. âCozy.â You nodded towards the posters on the wall, eyebrow arched high, and he colored instantly.Â
âDunno how to take them down,â he mumbled and you grinned. âCâmere.â
Gladly. You closed the short distance between you and practically melted into him, head on his shoulder and eyes closed. âMerry Christmas,â you whispered and he kissed your head.Â
For the longest time, you stood there wrapped in each other, and it was only when you swayed that he rasped, âMust be tired.â
âI am,â you said, voice muffled. âBut itâs earlier there than it is here.âÂ
âDid you sleep on the plane?â
You shook your head and he chuckled, kissing your head again. âShould sleep a bit.â
âItâs rude,â you said.Â
âThen Iâm rude all the time.â
âI should stay up,â you said. âOtherwise my schedule will be all off.â
âSâget comfortable, then.â
Shoes, coats, scarves, and his hat removed, you both trudged down the steps in socked feet. âTea?â he offered and you nodded. âGo in there and sit down,â he said. âIâll be right in.â
The living room was comfortable, with plush furniture and blankets. The fireplace was empty, but logs by it promised a fire later, and you perched on the edge of the sofa, glancing around curiously.Â
âYou must be Harryâs.â
Your spine nearly snapped when you turned on the sofa and met a pair of sharp, clear eyes under strong brows and framed by dark hair.Â
âSomething like that.â
Gemma â unmistakably her brotherâs sister in the intensity of her stare if nothing else â swept around the side of the sofa, hand extended, and you stuck yours out, gasping when a blunt nail scraped your skin. âSorry!â she said quickly. âDid I get you?â
âNo, no,â you assured her. âIâm fine. Itâs nice to meet you, Iâ Iâve heard a lot about you.â
âSurprising,â Gemma said with a rueful smile, settling into an armchair. âThat means he had to talk.âÂ
âHe doesnât do a lot of that, does he?âÂ
âNot really.â She pushed the sleeves on her jumper up her forearms. âHe hasnât really mentioned you much, Iâm afraid, but Iâm glad youâre here.â
Not a surprise when all things were considered, but you slid down a cliff in your mind, suddenly unsure of what you could say and what heâd want you to say.Â
âWhat havenât I done?âÂ
Harry shuffled slowly into the room, two mugs filled nearly to the brim in his hands. âCareful,â he warned when you reached for one. âSâhot, youâll burn your fingers⌠let me put it down on the table.â He gingerly set them down to avoid spillage and he sighed when he straightened up. âWhat are you two talking about?â
âYou,â Gemma said and you smiled slightly. âAnd how I didnât know she existed until a week ago when you were being a Grinch.âÂ
âI wasnâtââ Harry whipped around to look at you, hair on his forehead and eyes intently focused. âWe werenât telling anyone, you know that.âÂ
âA Grinch?â You arched an eyebrow and he flushed.Â
âHe was a miserable sod,â Gemma confirmed. âShouldâve pitched him into the fire for kindlingâ ah ah!â Gemma leaned forward, eyes locked on something behind you, and snapped her fingers twice. âStop that!â
Mreow.
You gasped and leaned away from the sound next to your ear, twisting your head and finding yourself practically nose-to-nose with a pair of green eyes that didnât belong to the man in front of you. The black-and-white cat in question blinked, wide-eyed, but before either you or it could move, Harry scooped it up in his arms. âDottie,â he heaved when it made an offended little noise. He scratched behind the ears before placing her on the ground. âMum has cats,â he said sitting beside you. Dottie blinked at him before slinking back towards his legs. âSorry about that.âÂ
âItâs fine â surprised me is all.â Harry slung his arm over your shoulder and you clasped your hands in your lap.Â
âYouâre not allergic, are you?â Gemma asked before turning her attention onto her brother. âSheâs not, is she?âÂ
âSheâs not.â Harry glanced down at you. âAre you?âÂ
Before you could answer, Anne walked in with a tray laden with sweets. âBiscuits, if youâd like them,â she said, setting them down on the coffee table. âGemma, love, would you help me in the kitchen for a bit?â
âWith what?â
Anne nodded towards the doorway and Gemma rolled her eyes but stood and followed her mother from the room, quiet, bickering whispers moving with them.Â
âJesus.â Harry sighed, eyes falling shut as he leaned back against the sofa. âSânot even Christmas yet.â
***
Christmas. The room was dark, cold, and so still you could almost hear Anne turning in her bed down the hall. Jet lag had gotten the better of you, and even though the sun was far from the horizon, you were wide awake. You didnât even remember falling asleep â the last thing you were consciously aware of was begging off the Christmas Eve pub crawl and Harry declining in solidarity before ushering you off to bed.Â
Now, Harryâs bare back was to you, throwing an absolutely sweltering degree of heat off, and his snores echoed and bounced off the wall. It wasnât until you were peeling yourself out of your jeans that youâd realized youâd forgotten pajamas â youâd lobbed your rolled up socks at him when heâd waggled his eyebrows and lecherously commented about the convenience of that â and now, cold as the tip of your nose might be, your legs were burning up in a pair of his flannel bottoms and an old t-shirt thatâd been repurposed for your use.Â
Biting your lip, you struggled with the knotted string until you got it loose enough to pull on the elastic, and you lifted your hips, wriggling and holding your breath. âWhatâsâŚ?â
The sheets rustled when Harry turned halfway and looked over his shoulder, face barely visible in the dark but hair clearly stuck out at odd angles. âWhatâs happening?â
âItâs hot,â you whispered, yanking his bottoms the rest of the way and sighing with relief when they slid down your thighs.Â
âSâwinter, the heatâs on,â he said.
âYouâre on.â
So crammed was the bed that he nearly squashed your arm when he rolled over, and you kicked the bottoms off the rest of the way under the duvet just as he reached across you.
âWhat are you doing?â you wheezed, pushing against his chest. Seconds later, the glow of his phone illuminated the room and you caught sight of him squinting.
âItâs Christmas!â his hoarse whisper broke the darkness and you squeaked when he collapsed half on top of you and squeezed the breath from you.Â
âStop that,â you whispered back. âPeople are sleeping.â Harry burrowed his face in your neck and you squirmed. âHarry, youâre hot.â
âDonât care, sâChristmas.â
It hit you on his second declaration. Christmas. Christmas in England, with your boyfriend, holed away in his childhood bedroom. âMerry Christmas.â You patted his arm.Â
âIt is.â He exhaled heavily against your skin. âMâglad youâre here.â
âMe too,â you said into the darkness. You slid your fingers into his hair and pulled softly, turning your mouth to his when he lifted his head. The kiss was sweet if restrained and you shifted onto your side to deepen it just before he pushed you onto your back and settled over you, bed creaking with every wriggle of your bodies to maneuver the mattress. âWhat are you doing?â you asked between kisses.Â
âSaying Merry Christmas.â Harry kneaded behind your knee gently and you held your breath.Â
âWe canât.â You hoped you sounded like there was more heart in the words than you felt, but the follow up pull on the bottom of your sleepshirt â a gentle, unassuming action â said otherwise.Â
âWhy not?â He pressed several puckering kisses to your cheek and you smiled despite yourself.Â
âWeâre in your motherâs house.â
âDâyou thinkâ?â Harry stopped abruptly.Â
âHmm?â
He pressed his nose into your jaw. âSâmy Christmas present, innit?â he mumbled and you laughed under your breath as he sucked soft kisses under your ear.Â
âGemmaâs next to us,â you sighed, and for a moment, that did make you take pause. His sister whoâd only just met you most certainly did not want to hear her brother getting up to no good on Christmas morning.Â
âSheâs asleep!â he said. âAnd Iâm pretty sure I heard her one year â itâd be pay back.â You snorted softly and he kissed your mouth several times. âGonna be here for a week,â he murmured. âNot gonna say hello tâme the right way for a week?âÂ
âCanât spend a week with me without having sex?â you whispered.
âKnow thatâs not true.âÂ
You rubbed the back of his neck and kissed his chin. âIf you want.â
âI want,â he groaned. âI do, I want⌠fâyou want.â
âI want,â you said, hands sliding in his hair. âI wantâ mmm.â He kissed you again, deeper, and you sighed into it, hiking your legs up around his waist. For the longest time it was just heavy, smacking kisses and wandering hands from both of you, seeking new skin and new places to touch and tease, with his groans and mumbles interjecting the harsh pattern of breathing you wove together.Â
âChrist, I missed you.â He kissed your neck and your eyes rolled up. âHowâs it been so long?â
âItâs been a month,â you said. âJust overââ
âSo long.â He shook his head and rutted against you. âSo fucking long, I canâtâ I hate it.â Youâve had longer â much longer â but something about the way heâd said it had you aching, distance unbearable even though he was on top of you. âKept me waiting, didnât you?â
âIâm sorry,â you gasped, digging your fingers into his shoulders when his hand slipped up your sleepshirt, his breath hot on your neck. âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to, Iâm here, Iâm here, I promise,â you babbled. âIâm here, comeââ You drew his mouth back to yours for a kiss and his blunt fingernails scraped against your skin. âIâm here, baby,â you said between kisses. âIâm here, Iâm hereâŚ.âÂ
âSay it again.â He pulled your underwear, wrestling them down your hips and thighs. âSay it again, pleaseââ
âBaby,â you sighed. âIâm here, baby, Iâm here, baby, baby, babyâŚ.âÂ
Your throat closed up when he pressed against you and then inside of you, stretching you just a little uncomfortably and face pinching when he dropped his pelvis fully against yours, murmuring instructions for you to, âBreathe, take a deep breath, love....â He held perfectly still for a moment before he thrust sharply and you gasped when it punched the air from your lungs.Â
âOh, fuck,â he groaned under his breath. âTight little thing, arenât you?âÂ
Were you? Or was he big enough and had it actually been as long as heâd bellyached about? His next thrust was heavy and you squeezed your eyes shut, thighs shaking for a moment before they fell open farther.Â
âThatâs my girl.â Harry kissed your cheek, breathing you in with his next thrust. âGod, youâre wet, too⌠donât even have to try to get up to my balls, do I?â
âNo⌠fuck, Haâ!â
âShhh!â he urged you, mouth on the side of yours. âHave to be quiet, sweetheart, have to....â Whimpering, you grasped his shoulders, fingers slipping on his sweat-slicked skin. âDâget you on your hands and knees if I could,â he whispered. âFucking bedâs so smallâŚ.â
You hiccuped over a deep breath.
âLike gettinâ on your knees for me, donât you?â he rumbled. âMakes you cum like no other when mâin your bellyâ fuck, dâyou hear that? Hear us?âÂ
Mouth stretched, a tremor rolled through you and you tensed. Everything was so fucking hot and deep!Â
âGood girl,â he said. âThatâs betterâŚ. Good girl, nice and quiet.âÂ
âI missed you!â you whispered through a burning throat.
âMissed mâcock?â
âMissed your cock, missed y-youâ ungh!â Your lips quivered in a silent whimper. âYouâve been gone so long, youâveââ
âI know.â He ground against you and you nearly cried out. âI know, darling, mâsorry, I wonât do it again⌠I wonâtâŚ.â Harry groaned gutturally, then, and came to a short and sudden stop.Â
âHarryâŚ!â You gulped and pulled on his shoulders, hands sliding uselessly.
âCanâtâŚ.â He shuddered and his cock twitched in you. âI canât⌠fuckâŚ.â
âYou can,â you said. âYou can, youââ
âMâgonna cum!â he hissed, exhaling slowly between trembling lips. âIf I do, Iâm gonnaâ! Canât, I canâtâŚ.â
âItâs your p-present,â you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. âItâs your⌠HarryâŚ.â
Face screwed up, he thrust short and quick, swearing under his breath, and seconds later streams of hot cum spurted inside you. Harry wheezed, shaking from head to toe, and he smothered apologies in your neck, pressing you into the mattress.
Short of breath, you clung to him and combed your fingers through his hair, rubbing his sweaty scalp and shushing him gently. âQuiet,â you reminded him, kissing his ear. âHave to beâŚ.â
A thunk against the wall behind the bed nearly startled you out of your skin and you stared at the ceiling, heart in your throat.Â
âAre you done now?â a muffled, irritated voice rang out. Mortified, your jaw dropped. Oh, GodâŚ.
Harry slapped the wall as snickers and conversation faded in and out behind it.Â
âShut it!â he rasped before quietly adding, âNot like you two havenâtâŚ.â
You pushed his chest and he grunted, but when he threw an arm around you, you squirmed.Â
âDonât!â you whispered. âI canât believe youââ
��What?âÂ
***
When you woke again, the sun was struggling to break through the frosted window, the haziest beams breaking through as best they could to cast a little light in the room. Harryâs face was smashed against his pillow, mouth open, snoring softly and apparently exhausted from his midnight awakening. You yourself were sore, and you winced, sinking into the mattress when you remembered how thatâd ended â itâd taken ten minutes of him muttering to ignore it, itâd be fine, everything was ok before youâd nodded off again. Squeaking, you rolled into him and pressed your face into his hair, breathing in deeply and only pulling back when he stirred. When he settled again, you slipped out from under the duvet and shivered when your feet landed on the cold wood floor.Â
It wasnât until you were halfway down the stairs, wrapped in his purple dressing gown, that you realized you werenât alone on Christmas morning, but by then it was too late to scurry back to the bedroom. You braced yourself and counted to three before nimbly descending the rest of the way. Alone time with his family and all the questions that came with it was bound to happen eventually, and he adored his mother. As long as it wasnât Gemma or her boyfriend just yetâŚ.
The kitchen was flooded with bright sunshine and the smells were as homey as they were mouthwatering â spicy, sweet, and savory, you took a deep breath. Anne moved from counter to counter, muttering to herself in an almost musical way as she referenced different cards, and your heart just about leapt into your throat when you opened your mouth. âGood morning.â
Anne turned, and, eyebrows high, she smiled. âGood morning, love. Happy Christmas.â
âHappy Christmas,â you said, dry lips cracking with your own smile.Â
âSleep well?â
You nodded, scratching your elbow and shifting in place. âYou?â
âI did, I didâ have a seat,â she gestured to a stool by the island and you tiptoed towards it to perch atop. âTea? Coffee?â
âPlease,â you said and Anne quirked an eyebrow with an amused little smile.
âWhich one?â
Oh.Â
âEither,â you said, hot under the collar. âWhichever youâ tea,â you decided upon spying her own milky cup.Â
âItâs nice of you to join me,â she said as she set about making it. âIâm always the first up on Christmas. Think Iâm more excited than they are â at least ever since they found out about Santa. Sugar?â
âNo, thank you.â
âMilk?â
You shook your head with a shy smile and she smiled â approvingly, unless youâd imagined it â and set the mug in front of you. âTake it like he does.â
âThank you,â you murmured. The mug was warm to the touch and you held it, breathing in the steam wafting from it. âIs it nice? Having everyone home?â
Anne paused, a warm, sentimental glint in her eye. âIt is. Itâs chaotic, and loud, but a full home is a happy heart. Itâs good to have my babies home.â
âThank you,â you said. âFor letting me stay with you and for having meââ
She waved her hand. âWeâre happy to have you â all of us, really, especially Harry. Night and day compared to how he was before. I think heâd have come around by now, maybe, but not as much.âÂ
âStill,â you said. âI donât think Iâve had the chance to tell you I appreciate it.â
âHavenât had a chance to say much at all!â Anne agreed. âHeâs always around â itâs like heâs afraid weâll bite your head off. Have you ever had a Christmas away from home?â
A pang hit your chest but you cleared your throat. âNo⌠first one. He promised me an English Christmas.â
Winking, Anne said, âThink we can manage that for you. Youâll never want another.â
You took a tentative sip of the hot tea.
âSo, how did you two meet?â
Your eyes watered when you swallowed the scalding mouthful, but before you could come up with something to say, an arm went around your shoulder and a kiss dropped to your head.Â
âMerry Christmas.âÂ
You looked up at Harry, relief rushing through you. âHow did we meet?â
He chuckled deeply but scratched his chin, and you could see him working it out in his eyes. âAt a concert,â he drawled slowly. âLittle bit ago. Had a good time.â
âWho were you seeing?â Anne asked, pulling out another mug.Â
âCanât remember,â you murmured and his eyes softened, crinkling at the corners some. âSomeone not very famous.â
âWas good, though,â he said.
âHe was ok.â
Snuffing a laugh, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
âTea, sweetheart?â
âThanks, Mum,â Harry said.Â
Anne busied herself with the electric kettle while he leaned in. âSleep ok?â
You nodded. âYou were out like a light.â
âGot tired,â he said with a smarmy smirk and you tutted. âLove me anyway.â
âFor now,â you said and he bumped his nose into your temple as Anne gingerly slid a cup his way.Â
It took a simple knock at the front door disturbed the peace.Â
Uncle Harry was someone you hadnât seen until he had kids at his feet pestering him and demanding attention or a quiet moment in front of the television. It pulled at something deep in you hidden behind your belly button, but with your water wings removed as his attention became occupied, you were in the deep end on your own. Their parents â cousins and step-relatives, from what you could gather â were friendly if vocal and sharply more inquisitive than the little ones who had his ear. Anne, Gemma, and her boyfriend were one thing, but you were quite sure youâd forgotten three names already, and you found yourself staying quiet instead of running the risk of revealing that embarrassment. After gifts had been opened and drinks had been poured, you murmured gentle excuses in the midst of the chaos and slipped away in search of a quiet moment of sanity.
You climbed the steps into the darkness of the second floor and rounded the corner into his bedroom, but your eyes watered instantly when your foot collided with something hard. âFuck!â You hobbled to the nightstand and turned the night on, an accusatory gaze falling on your suitcase. The bed sank beneath you and you bent to rub your offended toes.
âYou good?â
Your eyes snapped up to find the senior Styles sibling in the doorway with her arms crossed. âYeah,â you said. âJust⌠needed a minute.â
âThere are a lot of them.â
You nodded. âAnd I donât know who anyone is or how toââ You mimed jamming your hand in somewhere and she hummed.Â
âThey donât bite,â she said. âThey can be loud, but they donât generally use their teeth.â
âIâm trying.â You massaged your toe. âIâm just not sure and I donât want to fuck it up.â
âAnd he glued himself to you for 30 hours and didnât let you figure out how to know people before getting swept away in a sea of kiddies.â
You nodded again. âTheyâre excited to see him, though,â you said, a smile pulling at your mouth. âThatâs nice.â
âDo you want children?â
âYes,â you said without thinking. âWeâ yes.â Gemmaâs eyebrows rose and your face burned.Â
Footsteps clunking closer made you both look to the doorway, and seconds later his frame filled it. âThere you are,â he said. âYou ok?â
âStubbed my toe.âÂ
âHowâd you do that?âÂ
âI didnât do it on purpose,â you huffed. He sat down next to you and pulled your foot onto his lap.Â
âIâll leave you two to talk.â Gemma slunk from the room and Harry frowned.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â
âNothing,â you said. âJust overwhelmed.â He peered at you with clear, focused eyes, and you felt guilty for admitting it. âFeel out of place.âÂ
His lips thinned but he nodded slightly.
âI donât know anyone, butââ your voice stuck and you swallowed hard, âbut Iâm trying.âÂ
âAnd youâre doing great.â You looked at the ceiling. âYou are,â he insisted. âI think so. And I know there are a lot of people. Itâll be calmer tomorrow â Boxing Day and all. Weâll play some games and have a walk.âÂ
You nodded and did your best to keep your lower lip from wobbling. âThe kids love you,â you said and he chuckled low.Â
âYeah, Iâm the fun one.â He squeezed your ankle and tugged. âCâmere.â Shifting, you leaned forward and curled up against his side, face in his neck.Â
âSorry,â you whispered.Â
âDonât be,â he said. âYouâre jet lagged, too, yeah?â
You nodded and circled your arms around his chest when he rubbed your back. âCan we have a minute?âÂ
âYeah, we can.â
***
He was right. Boxing Day was significantly less crowded, with the family and friends trimmed down to only the closest, although the boisterous energy lingered, lending just enough festive spirit to counteract the long-melted snow that had turned the outside into muck. You leaned against his legs, head on his knee, with a full belly in front of the fire and his hand on your shoulder as voices rose and fell, a smile on your face listening to him shout interjections and laugh.Â
âYou awake down there?â Harry bounced his knee and you tilted back to frown at him. He grinned boyishly underneath the cap on his head, eyes full of mischief.Â
âWhy are you being a pest?âÂ
âHe canât help it,â Gemma quipped from where she sat cross-legged by the hearth, the fire casting a glow onto her skin. âHe was born that way.âÂ
âTake a lot of abuse, donât I?âÂ
âYour knees are knobby,â you said as you settled back down against him with a smirk.Â
âOiââ He pinched your cheek and you shrank away from his fingers.Â
âEveryone behave,â Anne said, walking through the maze of legs and limbs. âAnd take your pick. Forgot to do these yesterday, so we have plenty to clear through.â
Of what you were picking you didnât know until the bag passed you by you caught a glimpse of a variety of gold, red, green, and patterned Christmas crackers.Â
âYouâll share one with me,â Harry said, a gaudily patterned one in hand.Â
âWhatâs my prize?â you asked, twisting between his legs. âA cheap toy and a bad joke?â
âSounds about right,â he said, holding his cracker out. âGo on and give it a good pull. Yâmight know a thing orââ
Gasping, you grabbed the tab inside the cracker and tugged hard to cut him off. The anticlimactic pop was followed by a puff of smoke which he waved away quickly before digging inside the half heâd come away with.Â
âI got a crown!â he crowed, unfolding the flimsy paper. Smirking, you took it from him and stood on wobbly knees before removing his cap from his head and placing the paper crown delicately on his hair.Â
âPrince Harry,â you said with a simpering smile and he burst out laughing.Â
âTreat me like a king, though, donât you, darling?â
You rolled your eyes and Gemma retched. âThatâs disgusting,â she said.
âSheâs right,â you agreed and he pulled you down onto his lap. You tensed but he adjusted his legs to make a comfortable seat, arms looped around your waist like a seatbelt.Â
âNow I know why I kept you two apart for so long,â he said. âTeaming up on me.â
âYou deserve to be told,â you said, straightening his crown.Â
âHow long have you two been together?â Gemma asked. âI donât think youâve actually told us.â
âA while,â Harry said and she rolled her eyes.
âQuit dodging, Iâm not telling.â
âA year,â you said. Harry looked at you and you held his gaze. âA year and a half?â you went on. âMaybe?â
âSomethinâ like that,â he agreed. âDepends on how you cut it.âÂ
âLast summer?â Gemma asked, thumbing the end of her cracker.Â
âMore or less,â Harry said. He exchanged a quick glance with her and you ducked your head, only able to imagine their unspoken conversation. He cupped your cheek and kissed the side of your head quickly.Â
âThatâs a long time,â Anne said absentmindedly as she picked a cat out of the bag of crackers. Harry mumbled incomprehensibly and you became fascinated with his fingers, her observation echoing in your head. She was right â a year and a half wasnât nothing. Itâd taken awhile, and the first year or so had been spent in limbo, but here you were at the end of it on his lap at Christmastime with his family in his motherâs home. That was a long way to come from that hotel room in the city.Â
âRight.â Bag of Christmas crackers traded for a cat under each arm to keep them from trouble, Anne straightened up. âWhoâs ready for a walk?âÂ
âYou up for it?â Harry murmured next to your ear.Â
âI think Iâll stay in,â you said quietly. âLet you have some time with your family.â Â
âSure?â he asked and you nodded, pressing your forehead to his momentarily before clambering from his lap.Â
Coats, scarves, hats, gloves, and multiple pairs of Wellies later and you kissed him goodbye with a smile. âGo,â you whispered when he lingered, and after the door shut, you stood in the foyer biting your lip, cats circling your legs.Â
It was hours later when you were curled on his bed and pulled from your doze to the sound of heavy footsteps coming closer. The door creaked when it opened and his hulking frame slipped in, bringing the smell of rain and mud with him.Â
âYouâre back,â you rasped and he nodded, tiptoeing across the wood floor in socked feet, boots abandoned somewhere else in the house.
âI am.â The bed sank under his weight when he sat down next to you and you opened your arms, welcoming him when he tucked his face into your neck, the soft wool of his Green Bay beanie tickling you. You shoved your hand underneath it into his hair and massaged his head, the chilled tips of your fingers warming instantly.Â
âMmm,â you hummed, breathing in deeply. âYou smell good.â
âNot like wet dog?â he laughed and you grinned.
âNuh uh.â You pressed your nose to his head, breathing in the smell of his shampoo. âGood walk?â
He nodded. âThey really like you,â he said thickly. âThey really.â
Relief bloomed in your chest and the invisible pressure youâd felt on your shoulders since youâd booked your ticket eased some. âDid you think they wouldnât?â you asked with a small laugh and he shook his head.
âCourse not. Sâjust nice tâhear, innit?â
***
It went by entirely too fast. Only yesterday, youâd touched down at the airport, and now it was New Yearâs Eve. Two days more and youâd be on your way back, and even though youâd done nothing but be with him, it felt like youâd hardly seen him. There was always someone â that was the point, though, wasnât it? Family and friends and all the things people didnât get to do throughout the year. All the things he definitely didnât get to do.Â
âBut I want to see you,â heâd moaned when you reminded him. âI wantââ
âIâm here!â youâd laughed. Heâd scowled and youâd cupped his face. âQuit being a grump. Only have a little time left, donât we?â
For wanting to be with you, though, heâd done a good job at disappearing for the last few hours.Â
âYou leave on the second?â
Curled up on the sofa, you nodded in answer to Gemmaâs question. âYou?â
âThe sixth,â she said. âHead back to London then. He might come with, if he doesnât leave sooner.âÂ
âDoes he usually?â
She shrugged, scratching one of the cats â Evie or Dottie, you couldnât be sure which â behind the ears. âHe gets restless,â she said. âHeâs always on the move. Heâs slowed down some but he still gets itchy.âÂ
âWhat am I?â
You twisted and looked up, finding him towering above you behind the sofa. He had his coat on and a cap on his head, and his hands were tucked in his pockets.Â
âAn eavesdropper.â He nodded as if to say that was fair before dropping a kiss to your head. âWhereâve you been?â
âJust taking care of some things.â He ducked close to your ear. âWanna disappear with me?â The way he said it â smooth and warm â sent a delicious tickle up your spine. âCâmon.â He jerked his head.Â
âWhere?â you asked.Â
âOut.â
âOut where? Itâs almost 10:30, and your mother saidââ
âDonât you worry,â he said. âMum knows Iâm stealing you.âÂ
Your own coat and scarf wrapped tightly around you, you followed him out the front door. It was misting lightly and you gripped his hand tightly, tripping in an effort to keep up with his purposeful stride towards his car.Â
âWeâre driving?â you asked.Â
âGoing to a party,â he said.Â
âA partâ Harry, Iâm not dressed forââ
He held you firm when you pulled his hand. âYouâre fine.â
âHarryââ
âYouâre fine,â he said. âTrust me, will you? Just get in the car.â
He opened the door and you groaned, ducking, but instantly your mood shifted. âWhat is this?â you asked, cackling as you slid in. A blanket was tucked in the corner of the backseat and a paper plate with cheese, crackers, nuts, and olives was precariously balanced on the console.Â
âNew Years party,â he groaned, clambering in after you and shutting the door firmly. âVery private, invitation only.â
âAnd how many invitations went out?âÂ
He grinned without remorse and you kissed him.Â
âBubbly?â he asked.Â
âWhatâ?â You laughed when he reached around front and pulled a bottle of champagne from the seat.Â
âGimme your scarf,â he said. When the cork popped, you covered your ears, and he waved away the mist before lifting it to his mouth.Â
âCouldnât find glasses, so I figured weâd justâŚ.â
You snorted but accepted it when he passed it your way.
âWhatâs the meaning of this?â you asked.Â
âI like seeing my family,â he said. âBut I like seeing you, too.â He shrugged after a moment. âYou leave in a couple days. Just wanted some time where we arenât around other people or about to fall asleep.â
âItâs kind of romantic of you, you know?âÂ
He smiled lopsidedly.Â
The poor-quality stream on his phone of the program everyone was crowded around inside kept you both apprised of the dwindling decade. Champagne gradually replaced the blood in your veins, and you as the night waned and drew closer to morning, you curled up half on his lap, lips burning from salty brine. âWe should go in soon,â you said, tongue heavy.Â
âSure,â Harry said, nuzzling your temple and doing the least to make a move.Â
âWhat time is it?âÂ
Harry leaned forward and you clutched his jumper. âThree minutes to midnight.â He flopped back and you burrowed closer.Â
âItâs almost time,â you said. âTheyâll be looking for us, we shouldâŚ.â
âSâok, they know where we are,â he said, nuzzling your temple. âThey wonât miss us.âÂ
âItâs New Years,â you protested.Â
âItâll still be a new year tomorrow, they can see us then.â
You wanted to argue but somehow you couldnât find the strength. The next thing you knew, he was counting down next to your ear, quietly, breath warm on your skin.Â
âTen⌠nine⌠eightâŚ.â
So many things had changed this year. When the last one had rolled around, youâd been alone, drunk, wondering if it was appropriate to text your international musician bootycall a happy new year and petrified of how he might take it. Now, said bootycall had turned boyfriend and heâd all but begged you to spend the holidays with him, and there you were, tucked in his car with his family inside.Â
âFive, fourââ
âI love you.â
âTwo,â mixed with a laugh, his hand was already on your cheek and you just caught sight of his eyes. âOne⌠happy new year!â
You kissed him first, gripping his wrist to hold steady, but he returned it in kind, Auld Lang Syne squeaking its way through his phone on the stream.Â
âAnd I love you, too,â he said against your mouth, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek.Â
âGood,â you whispered before sighing. âSuppose we should go in now since we missed it.â
âHang on,â Harry said, voice strained. âThey can wait a minute.â He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.Â
âWhat are you doing?â you asked, heart pounding and mind jumping to the wildest conclusions you couldnât believe would be true.
Licking his lips, Harry took a deep breath. âIâve got⌠Iâve got that place in the city, you know.â
You looked up at him, but he was studiously avoiding your gaze, and he was remarkably pale for how warm it was in the car. âIâd like to raise my⌠Iâd like to have my family in England, but in the meantimeâŚ.â He shrugged. âI could like⌠I could spend more time there. For awhile. And, like, if you thought you wanted to spend time with me or summatâŚ.â It was only then he chanced a glance at you, and you caught his cheek to hold him still.Â
âYou scared me,â you said, lips ticking up at the corners.
âWhatâd yâthink I was going to say?â he rasped and you shook your head.Â
âNot that.â You scratched his cheek lightly. âAnd Iâd like spending time with you if you spent more time there.â
âYeah?â
You nodded and he let out a breath. âIâll look into it, then,â he said and you rolled your eyes.Â
âPest,â you said before kissing him.Â
What a difference a year made.
#harry smut#harry styles smut#harry fanfic#harry styles fanfic#harry blurb#harry imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles imagine#harry one shot#harry styles one shot#original writing#permanentcross#blurred lines#blurred lines: an english christmas#christmas#new year#new years#holiday
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ain't this life so sweet
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/CjvM7V0
by Helenas_Mangos
When Luciferâs siblings arrive in LA on a mission to take him back to hell, Amenadiel hatches a plan to convince them heâs changed and doesnât deserve to be there anymore. Now Chloe is playing fiancĂŠe to the man she loves but is trying her hardest to get over, Lucifer is a reluctant step-devil, and Trixieâs hatching a plan of her own. As Christmas fast approaches and the lines between real and fake begin to blur, Luciferâs siblings may not be the only ones falling for the charade.
Words: 4323, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English
Fandoms: Lucifer (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/M
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Christmas Romance, Christmas Fluff, Sharing a Bed, there's only one bed, Family, Found Family, Cuddling & Snuggling, Step-Devil, hallmark movie vibes
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/CjvM7V0
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How To Piss Off Your Boss II ăIă
When HC places the dishes in front of a group of esteemed guests, foreigners and wealthy business people by appearance, heâs roped into a brief conversation in English. Not that he minds too much. HC has had many opportunities to practice different languages in the kitchens heâs worked in, mainly consisting of English, Spanish, Italian, and Japanese. Most of the phrases HC retained were curse words too. Go figure.
Once the CEO wraps up the small talk session, he spins on his heel and speeds back to the kitchen. As he power walks through the various tables, HC takes note of which guests have seemingly ordered yet still only have drinks on their tables. Heâs not sure what his employees were yammering about to delay their service up to fifteen minutes, but it could certainly wait until after the dinner rush, for godâs sake.
A blur of white completely stops HC in his tracks. His neck suffers from a violent double-take when he catches sight of a familiar white turtleneck, worn by a figure with a familiar smile. HCâs mouth gapes open slightly, nearly tripping in his haste to veer off towards the two-person table secluded by the window.
XL cutely waves as he finally gets a glimpse of his husband tonight. Â
âGege!?â HC breathily asks, confused. XL sets his flute of wine down, amber eyes shining with mirth.Â
âSurprise!â
HC immediately shoots a glare back to the kitchens where he sees his employees peeking through the pair of windows on the doors. His lips curl into an angry snarl, like a tiger provoked by its own streak. He makes a move to steamroll into his kitchen and rip them a new one. Except a hand grasps onto his wrist before he can make it past one table.
âSan Lang, donât mind them. Itâs no big deal,â XL pleads, tugging on HCâs hand. The taller man willingly turns around, rolling his wrist so he can be the one to hold XLâs hands instead.Â
âGege, how long have you been waiting?â HC asks in a tight voice. XL frowns, not wanting to answer, but he knows HC wonât let it go.
âJust under thirty minutes.â
âThirty minutes!?â HC exclaims. âThe fact that no one told me you were here for nearly half an hour is unacceptable. Oh my god, Iâm going to fire them all.â
âNo, youâre not. San Lang, calm down. I didnât tell you I was coming, so you couldnât have known. I donât think the server who showed me to my seat even knew who I was,â XL reasons.
He subconsciously pulls HC closer to sitting down at the table.Â
âSomeone shouldâve told them because youâre not just any customer, gege. Youâre my HUSBAND. Youâre important to me, and I would like my workers to let me know if youâre here regardless if I knew beforehand. I donât want you to have to wait that long for me to come out and join you.â
âThey said you were busy! Plus, thirty minutes is hardly a long time.â XL tries again. HC insistently shakes his head, gingerly squeezing XLâs hands.Â
âDarling, your time is too precious to be wasted like that,â HC says, leaning forward to plant a kiss on XLâs forehead. XL hums as he finally pushes HC down into the chair opposite of his own.Â
âWell, youâre here now, right? Why donât we enjoy a lovely dinner together? My treat!â XL says happily.
Seconds later, two massive dishes of finely-boiled squid and glass noodles, along with spicy wonton soup are placed in front of the two men. Itâs the new cook who bows while stuttering out an apology, repeating âI didnât know- Hua Lao Ban, Xie-xiansheng- I didnât know- please forgive me.â
XL, being the angel he is, claims there is nothing to forgive. Across from him, HC silently churns in strong disagreement. It takes three servers to make sure everything was up to standard, watching their bossâ expression carefully for any hint of dissatisfaction. They leave in a hurry, the abundance of food making XLâs face light up like a Christmas tree.
âI love you, San Lang,â XL cheers, tapping his chopsticks together excitedly.
HCâs face softens, endeared by his husbandâs antics. The incident is far from being forgotten in his mind. After all, from the stories XL has told about the times he was truly struggling in life after the pitfall of his parents, HC has a very good idea of what circumstances XL has had to endureâway worse than waiting thirty minutes for his food and husband to show up.Â
XL probably didnât even expect to see HC tonight. And that is still absolutely inexcusable. XL is HCâs number one priority, even above all of his businesses.
But for now, HC supposes he can put it off to share a wonderful meal with his husband.
âI love you too, Gege,â he responds, shoulders relaxing.
However, an offending, black, leather folder captures HCâs attention. Itâs tucked into a corner on XLâs side of the table, unopened. HC already knows what it is without having to look closer.
âGegeâŚâ
âHmm?â XL looks up with his mouth full of noodles.
âDid they charge you for the meal?â HC asks slowly, barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface. His eye pins the flutes of his favorite drink he hasnât touched. âAnd the wine?â
XL chews methodically, cheeks puffing from how stuffed they are. If anyone who cared about eating etiquette were watching him, they no doubt would be utmost appalled at such a messy display. HC would curse them to hell if they dared said or did anything.
XL finally swallows, licking his lips.
âThereâs nothing wrong with charging me,â XL says. HCâs nails dig into his skin as his hands clench into balled fists. âWhat if I just want to support my husband?â
HC inhales deeply, then exhales heavily.
âGege does that enough by being married to me. Look, Iâll be right back-â HC abruptly stands up. He swoops in to kiss XL on the lips, pecking three more times which makes XL giggle. HC then quickly blows cool air on the spoon XL holds mid-air with his hot soup.Â
Without another word, HC storms back towards the kitchens. The other cooks actively avoid their boss, bowing profusely if they happen to cross paths with him. HC doesnât say anything to acknowledge their remorseful actions. For the next ten minutes, he continues instructing the team as if the mishap hadnât even happened.Â
Apologizing wonât be enough, they all know this. They kept not only XL waiting for thirty minutes but also the other customers that entered after him. However, XL had been waiting for the longest as he was a walk-in customer, which made it all the more displeasing for HC to find out his husband had not received the special treatment he deserved.Â
The orders have slowed down enough for HC to snap his fingers as a signal for everyone to line up. When all the cooks are appropriately assembled, HC doesnât hesitate to hurl the folder with the check onto the main island in front of them.Â
âWho was it?â HC asks icily. No one utters a sound. The CEO reaches over to yank out the white paper filled with prices. He points to it, eyeing every single one of his employees. âTell me. Who gave this to him? Who charged him for his meal when I have specified numerous times to neverâand I mean NEVERâbill him.â
Itâs so quiet in the kitchen, the guests closest to the kitchen doors can probably hear HC scolding his cooks, beyond livid. HC couldnât care less, as long as XL was outside of hearing range and slurping down his soup with a content tummy. Heâll have to make it up to XL on his own accords, first by taking his husband home to have uninterrupted one-on-one discussion.
The newer cook who HC has distinguished as Hai Ye shuffles uncomfortably, looking like a child guilty of disobeying their parentsâ order. Someone has yet to speak up to confess or snitch, meaning they would rather face punishment collectively than risk one person receiving full blame. While HC is one thread away from blowing his top off, he buries the nasty curses down inside his chest. He knows what itâs like to receive unfair consequences for things he didnât knowingly do wrong.Â
Instead, HC forces his temper to cool down.Â
âSeeing as these were a series of mistakes that everyone here has contributed to, Iâm canceling janitorial services and assigning all of you cleaning duty,â HC declares, crossing his arms. âI donât know what else it will take, but this must not happen again. With Xie Lian or with the backed-up orders. We are better than that, understood?â
âYes, Hua Lao Ban,â the cooks recite resolutely. HC grunts with a tone of finality. He quickly snatches his long coat, taking out his wallet and stacking the amount of money needed to cover XLâs check.Â
âGood. We can move on from that. Finish the night on a reasonable note. Additionally, can someone fetch me a to-go box and cup?â HC asks as he unbuttons his chef blouse and throws it into the hamper off to the side. HY is the closest to the to-go boxes, so he instantly abides by HCâs request. The CEO offers HY a nod of gratitude. Then, heâs out of the kitchen, long coat thrown loosely over his lanky frame.Â
Between the few orders they have to complete, HY witnesses HC personally box up his and his husbandâs food. XL eagerly holds HCâs hand when heâs done, pulling the taller man towards the front door to go home. Before leaving, HC gives the head chef, HX, a menacing glare as if to say, âYou better have things under control.â
The CEO of Crimson Embers walks out of his restaurant with a gentle hand resting on his husbandâs lower back. They disappear through the front glass doors, subtly leaning into each otherâs space, content to be together after a long day apart.Â
Bonus:
When the other branches hear about the incident, they hang up a framed picture of XL with HC, making sure to point to XLâs face for new employees saying, âIf this man enters the restaurant, show him to his seat and then tell Hua Lao Ban immediately. Get him everything he asks for. NEVER charge him for his orders.â
#tgcf#heaven official's blessing#tian guan ci fu#hualian#hualian au#xie lian#huan cheng#modern au#cerdrabbles#still not beta-ed#spur of the moment drabble which is so on brand with canon Hualianâs dynamic
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Illustration by AndrĂŠ Castaigne, 1911
Phantom of the Opera and Carnival - some thoughts
While ALWâs Masquerade lyrics imply that the masked ball happens at New Yearâs â toasting to a prosperous year and a new chandelier â in Lerouxâs novel the masked ball happens sometime before Shrovetide/avant les jours gras. Shrovetide is an archaic English way of saying Carnival. While Masquerade is a great song, ALWâs decision to move the date of the masked ball means that it loses some of the symbolism and disconnects the story from the greater tradition of Carnival. I have some thoughts about this. Itâs a little long, apologies.
What is Carnival? Primarily, itâs a season: the period of time between January 6 (Twelfth Night) and Mardi Gras (the day before Ash Wednesday). The date of Mardi Gras changes every year because it is linked to the dates of Easter and Passover and calculated using the lunar calendar. Carnival is celebrated in some way in most of Europe and in most of the Western Hemisphere, especially in areas colonized by France, Portugal, and Spain. It is not widely celebrated in the U.S. except along the Gulf Coast, primarily in Louisiana, because this region was colonized by France and Spain and the tradition became entrenched before the area became English-speaking. Carnival is celebrated to a lesser extent in Africa, again as a result of colonization. Iâm not sure about Carnival celebrations in Asia (leave a comment if you do know!) While Carnival traditions vary widely depending on geography and culture, there are some elements that define the celebrations: masks and hidden identities, processions that later became parades, an excess of food, music, and dance. Carnival is older than Christianity. Most of the pre-Christian elements seem to come from the Romans. But the Carnival that was exported across the world along with colonization was very much a medieval Catholic tradition.
Modern Carnival is usually celebrated as a secular holiday. Â But in order to explain Carnival, I have to address the religious roots. [Iâm not trying to preach, I promise.] The word Carnival comes from the Latin carnes, flesh. It is a celebration of the flesh in every respect. The excessive hard partying could be viewed an attempt to eat up all the butter and get out all the sinful behavior before Lent, the 40 day liturgical season proceeding Easter, when there is an expectation of fasting and hard praying and grim contemplations of death (Stations of the Cross, Passion Plays). But you can also view Carnival as a very intentional celebration of the ephemeral nature of life. Â The dates of Carnival correspond with the liturgical season of Epiphany, which is the only period of the year when Jesus is alive and concerned with human things â he is a mischievous child, he goes to weddings with his mom, his miracles are often quotidian and material â wine and bread and fish. Only three to four months pass from the time Jesus is born at Christmas to the time he dies at Easter. His human life was short and fleeting. Carnival/Epiphany are about the fleeting nature of all life. A celebration of the flesh. Ash Wednesday serves as the reminder that eventually it will all turn to dust. You must burn through the ephemeral to reach the eternal. Carnival isnât only about excess before deprivation. It is a celebration of life in the face of death. Â
New Orleans Carnival/Mardi Gras provides the perfect metaphor for this. Parades involve âthrowsâ to the crowds â trinkets, usually beads, plastic coins, toys, cakes. People can get a little crazy in their thirst for beads â especially the rare glass ones. But come Wednesday, the beads grow dim before your very eyes. Thousands of them get crushed beneath the wheels of garbage trucks cleaning up the streets. No matter what wealth you have accumulated in this world, no one, absolutely no one, can take it with them when they die.
Carnival is a time when the old order is inverted. Jesus was meant to turn the world upside down â a king born in a barn! Costuming and masking blur gender and class lines. In the Americas, while racial lines were historically very much imposed even during Carnival, it was also a rare time when slaves and later free people of African descent were allowed to express their cultures in public. This is clearly still true in Carnival as it is celebrated in Brazil, the Caribbean, New Orleans. Carnival can work to temporarily equalize the masses as masked people blend into each other and lose their own identities.
So, what does any of this have to do with Phantom of the Opera? Erik appears at the masked ball dressed as the Red Death. Yes, clearly, he is a fan of Poe. Heâs a well-read man! But death very much has a role to play in Carnival and it isnât at all uncommon to see people dressed as death or other morbid figures. Because Carnival celebrates life, it is inherently celebrating the ephemeral. All life ends. And that is what makes it beautiful and worthy of celebration.
Erik enjoys his connection to death. Depending on your reading of Leroux, Erik is probably not even wearing a mask, stalking the party in his full hideous glory, as Daroga might say. This is especially meaningful when you consider Lerouxâs famous quote about Parisians and masking. While Erik is a trickster and a liar, on this night, a night of inversions, he is the most honest man at the Garnier. He is there to remind others of their own mortality. And this is a perfectly normal and sane way to celebrate Carnival. The party goers arenât afraid of Erik (except that one guy who touched him) â they greatly admire his costume; they even ask where he had it made. As if he were just a normal reveler. Even today it would be completely normal for there to be a guy dressed as death walking around a Carnival party. In this way Erik is almost the opposite of Poeâs Red Death, whose mere presence offends Prince Prospero so much he orders him killed on sight. Perhaps it is because Prospero himself does not understand the nature of his own Carnival or life itself. You cannot lock Death outside.
While the party goers seem amused by Erikâs costume, and we enjoy Erikâs moment of pure arrogance and swag, I donât think Erikâs performance is entirely symbolic. Itâs also a threat. If he really had as much gunpowder under his house as Daroga informs us, then it would have taken a while to get it all down there. On the night of the masked ball, isnât it possible that the gunpowder was already there beneath the Opera? Only Erik would have known this. I think this made him feel powerful, to walk around knowing that at any moment he could end it all. He was there to embody Death, to incarnate it. To make it flesh.
#carnival#carnaval#phantom of the opera#le fantĂ´me de l'opĂŠra#gaston leroux#red death#edgar allen poe#you can't take it with you#mardi gras
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below the cut, you'll find an interest check chapter for quatervois, a nancy drew pc fic. it's francy and also my idea of my absolute dream game. please let me know what you think and enjoy!
+++
After Ned breaks up with her and she loses her father, Nancy struggles to find her old vigor for detective work. While on vacation in London with Bess and George, Nancy accepts the urgent invitation to return Blackmoor Manor. Her English getaway quickly turns into an investigation once Nancy realizes the true reason Nigel Mookergee asked her back to the moors. Finding Deirdre Shannon at the manor under the same pretense only sets Nancyâs nerves further on edge. It isnât until the Hardy Boys show up in Blackmoor that Nancy gets a glimpse of who she once was. With a manor full of suspects and a glass heart cracked open, Nancy is determined to find the truth.
Dear Ned,
How are you? Itâs been a while. Iâve always started off my letters telling you about my latest case, but Iâm not on one right now. Iâm sure thatâs hard to believe. Bess and George have whisked me away to London. Iâm sure you would love it here. This is the first time Iâve seen Bess and George since I sold the house in River Heights. I stayed with Kyler and Matt in Ireland for a while. I needed a change of scenery. Their daughter just turned two. Iâm somewhat jealous Iâm happy for them. Anyways, I miss you I hope youâre doing well. Iâm sure New York is lovely at Christmas time. I hope Stephanie is I wish Stephanie well How is Stephanie? I hope Stephanie is doing all right. I appreciated the card Stephanie sent when dad passed away. Warm regards, Merry Christmas, Love Nancy
She stares down at the letter as if the red ink were her own blood. It feels just as wounding, seeing her emotions made physical in the words on the paper. Only when a tear splatters on the page does she break free from her trance to the past. Nancy is the only person in her hotel suite, yet she works to rid the evidence like one of her own suspects. She pulls her feet up in the desk chair and crosses her ankles, holding the arch of her right foot â it recently became the victim of her latest culprit. Nancyâs foot got caught under the getaway carâs tire, and she is lucky to even be able to walk after the event. Months later, itâs stiff as hell with the most intense cramps sheâs ever endured. Heart racing to forget the night it happened, she focuses on the snowfall out the window â counting little sparkles of snowflakes, though the world blurs when she squints. The doctor thought her failing sight as well as the daily headaches were on account of being hit in the head so many times.
She busies herself with choosing a postcard to send Hannah and Nancy selects one with a cat dressed up as a royal guard. The cuteness puts a smile on her face, however small â she hopes itâll do the same for Hannah, but there is no telling. Nancy had the gut-feeling Hannah was lying about recognizing her the last time Nancy visited the nursing home. Torment swirls like wind to fallen leaves. She doesnât have Hannah or Togo to come home to. Togo passed just before Nancyâs thirty-second birthday, and Carson fell ill soon after that. Nancy looks to her hotel bed where Mr. Woogle Woggle sits tucked between two pillows. It seems he is the only one that hasnât left her. A knock on her hotel door reminds her that is simply not true. Nancy rights herself, fixing her posture to the stance of someone passionate, and she opens the door. Bess and George greet her with blazing smiles; Nancy gives silent thanks for their presence in her life. She would still be in Scotland with Kyler and Matt, had Bess and George not insisted to take her on a vacation. Nancy imagines that their insistence was due to them wanting to keep Nancy from spending Christmas alone on the road again like last year. âNancy,â Bess stresses. âYouâre never going to guess who we ran into in the lobby!â Horror strikes dull and loud in her ears. Surely, itâs not Ned. Please, donât let it be Ned. George says, âGive you a hint: they were involved in one of your cases.â Nancyâs despair leaves her throat tight. She glances down the hallway, preparing to yank Bess and George into her room and dial her Cathedral contact to get them set up in witness protection.
âThat didnât narrow it down at all, George,â Bess says with a roll of her eyes. âNancyâs been on hundreds of cases.â Nancyâs strain creeps into her one word: âWho?â Bess and George beam. âMaya Nguyn!â ++
Nancy follows Bess and George to the elevator in a hurried stupor. No thoughts can she conjure as she steps free from the elevator walls which seem to close in on her; Nancy marches into the lobby and notices a woman in the crowd of tourists. She stands with her back to Nancy, her hair drawn up in a bun, and her chin is lifted high with no time for games. Maya turns around and her bright red mouth stretches into a smile. âNancy!â âMaya,â Nancy huffs in disbelief. She tenses in Mayaâs sudden embrace before all but falling into it. This is something good I did; Nancy cherishes with shut eyes. This is someone I helped. When Maya pulls back, Nancy says, âWhat are you doing all the way out here? You said in your last letter, you were still in Washington.â âMy house is technically there,â Maya nods. âBut I get to work on the road more these days.â Her brows crease over a sympathetic smile. âBess and George tell me youâre kind of in the same boat.â Nancy shrugs, struggling to hold Mayaâs concerned gaze. âItâs just easier,â Nancy lies. Maya seems to see right through it, but she doesnât speak on it. Nancy will have to thank her later. George says, âMaya offered us free tickets to a play sheâs reviewing tonight and get this â itâs at the Globe Theater!â âRemind me whatâs so special about a globe theater,â Bess sighs, checking her nails. âNot âaâ, Bess, the.â George shakes her head. âThe Globe Theater â well, technically itâs a reconstruction of the first one, but itâs where Shakespeare wrote his plays.â âItâs the opening night of a new play,â Maya explains. âAnd Nancy, youâll never guess who the star is.â Nancy cannot take anymore guessing games. âBrady Armstrong.â Maya blinks. âWell â yes, actually.â Nancy frowns. âWait, really?â âYes,â Maya laughs. âIâll be conducting an interview with him after the show if you want to go backstage and chew him out for all the stunts he pulled back in the day.â A spark of vigor heightens Nancyâs senses. That doesnât sound bad at all. Still â âAre you sure we wonât be a distraction or ââ âNancy.â Mayaâs hand falls on her shoulder. âYou saved my life. Youâre the furthest thing from a distraction.â Gratitude floods her before Nancy nods. âAll right, then.â +++ The walk to the Globe would be depressive what with the sky being the color of a soaked napkin, but the Christmas decorations lift everyoneâs spirits. Nancy limps by a shop playing Christmas oldies through the open door and she is borne back to her father listening to records over cocoa on Christmas morning. She tries to push the memory from her mind, then she thinks of building snowmen with Ned and having snowball fights that turned into the sweetest kisses sheâs ever received. The music wonât stop. There are three Christmas trees in the display window and their flashing lights strike pain behind Nancyâs eyes. She pants through a sensory overload before someone squeezes her hand. Maya smiles in understanding as Bess and George walk obliviously in front of them. âItâs hard,â Maya says. âThis life on the road. You pick up a few habits.â Nancy squeezes her hand in thanks before tucking her own in her peacoatâs pocket. âI want to enjoy this,â she admits quietly. âBut I think the holidays are always hard.â Maya nods. âIt wonât be this way forever, Nancy,â she promises. âIâve got my fingers crossed for you.â Cross your fingers, thereâs a story behind this door! Nancy swallows around the lump of panic in her throat. She plasters on a smile. +++ The theater is packed with noise and touching and all-around boisterous patrons. They find their seats in the crowd and Nancy doesnât watch where sheâs going â she must keep her eyes on the open ceiling to remember how to breathe. She sits down at the end of the group and Maya passes out programs. Quatervois, the title reads. Bess says, âWhat does that mean?â âIt means youâre at a crossroads,â Maya says. âA turning point.â âSounds a little dramatic,â George grumbles. Nancy traces the swooping lines of the title with
her thumb, repeating the process until the lights go down. The masked chorus emerges from the shadows and gives a synopsis: Down from Olympus a great hero emerges, Mighty in his strength and courage! A choice he must make Shall he ignore fate? Will he choose love, Or follow his destiny there-of? When Brady saunters on stage in an impossibly short silk chiton, itâs an out-of-body experience for Nancy. He still hasnât grown his ponytail back, so Simone could very well be in the audience right now. Nancy rubs her aching temple at the thought. Brady begins his journey as the character Diogenes, a demigod that was supposedly â according to the playâs plot â written out of ancient Greek mythos. Diogenes must defeat those who want to leave him forgotten in history, lest he admit that he canât win this fight and live his life like everyone else. Nancy assumes the playâs ending too soon. She imagines this will be a droll experience written only to paint Brady as a glorious hero that can conquer anything â but she is quickly surprised. Brady is stabbed in the final act and addresses the audience in a wail: And so my story ends a breath too early, No time to even be weary! The moon shall pass over my corpse, And the sun will beat down on my ashes with no remorse. Today, I have failed my quartervois Alone, forgotten, and lost. When the curtain falls, Nancyâs mouth is parted in disbelief as a tear burns down her cheek. They donât receive a proper goodbye with Maya since the rest of the crowd is bustling toward the exit. She does have time to say that Brady is producing a new television series and will be scouting some locations further into Essex; Maya will be following the film crew there for test shoots. She embraces each girl individually and holds Nancy for a beat longer, whispering, âYouâll call if you need to talk?â âOf course,â Nancy says by impulse. âSame to you.â +++ Nancy is proud of herself for going out, but when she closes the door to her hotel suite, her back thunks against the wall and she must take deep breaths for several minutes. She decides to treat herself to a bubble bath even though itâs nearly midnight. She rolls her hair up into a bun and looks at it in the mirror, how haphazard and messy hers is in comparison to Maya. Nancy isnât jealous â but she canât help but notice when people are thriving. She wants to figure out how to do it herself and hasnât found the cure yet. The bath is claw-footed and deep. Nancy sinks into the steaming water before goosebumps rise on her arms, and her freckled skin blushes in the heat. The water does wonders for her foot. She eases her head back on the lip of the tub and nears a light doze when her cell phone rings. It rests atop a stack of towels by the tub. Nancy wipes her damp hand off before looking to the screen. Frank Hardy. Nancy answers and taps the speaker button to relax back in the tub. âHey.â âHi, Nance,â Frank says, his voice a familiar balm after such a stressful time. âWhatâs going on?â âThings arenât too different from last weekâs call,â Nancy smiles. âBut Iâm on vacation with Bess and George.â âOh wow! Thatâs awesome. I hope itâs been fun.â Nancyâs glazed eyes blink. âYeah,â she rasps. âItâs nice.â She clears her throat, searching for her old enthusiasm. âBut what about you? Howâs Joe?â âSame as usual, a pain in my ass.â Nancy chuckles before a distinctive lift raises Frankâs voice. âWeâre actually getting ready to get on a plane for a case â but I wanted to make sure everythingâs good with you.â Nancyâs hand closes in a fist on her raised knee. âGosh, itâs been so long since Iâve been on a case.â âNot really. You just took a few months off to stay with Kyler, right?â âYeah, but thatâs the longest Iâve ever gone without a case since I started.â âIâd give you ours if I could,â Frank says. âReally not looking forward to such a long plane ride. Oh, theyâre calling for our gate â but do you want me call you when I land?â Gratefulness is a warm glow in her heart. âNo, thatâs okay â but
thank you. Be safe on your trip and tell Joe I said hi.â âCan do.â Frank pauses. âI â tell Bess and George I said hi.â âCan do,â Nancy repeats. She chews her lip. âSee you soon?â She feels foolish for saying something when Frank is headed to a case. While the weekly phone calls have kept Nancy sane, it would be even better to see the Hardy Boys. âIâll make it happen,â Frank promises. âSee you, Nance.â After they hang up, Nancy struggles to get out of the tub with her swollen foot. She gets into a pair of sweats and wraps up some ice in a washcloth, then holds it against her foot. Nancy mulls over her conversation with Frank, wondering how much of her poor mood could be due to not solving a mystery. With a deep yawn, she tosses the soaked washcloth in the wastebasket, not able to walk to the bathroom to put it in the sink. She cuddles up to her teddy bear and flicks the lamp off when her phone rocks to life on the nightstand. Bewildered, Nancy turns the lamp back on to look at the screen. The number is unknown; she sees her hand tremble around the phone. She lets the call go to voicemail before the phone vibrates to life once again. Bracing herself, Nancy answers. âHello?â âYes, hello â Iâm trying to reach a one Nancy Drew?â The voice is British and eerily familiar, like Nancy heard it in a dream. âThis is she.â âSplendid! Oh, you wouldnât believe the trouble Iâve gone to in order to find your number.â âSorry? Who is this?â âWhy, Nigel Mookergee. We met at ââ âBlackmoor,â Nancy whispers. âNigel, hi. Whatâs going on?â âIâm afraid the manner of my call is not a jovial one,â he says. âHow should I explain this? Well, I suppose from the start. You see ââ He sighs. âDonât tell anyone Iâm speaking of this, but the Penvellyns have fallen into a bit of⌠financial trouble.â Nancy says, ââFinancial troubleâ?â âItâs certainly not my business to spread, but yes. Itâs not that they are a poor family by any means, but one diplomatâs salary is not enough to keep up a castle.â Nancy sits up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her bedside table. She jots as Nigel continues. âThe Penvellyns began to host historical tours at the manor â much to Mrs. Drakeâs dismay, I might add. Jane wishes to expand the business to the paranormal side of things, and I donât quite agree with the idea myself, but she insists itâs just what the manor needs.â Nancy finishes scrawling and says, âSo, youâre working for the Penvellyns now?â âYes. Iâm afraid thereâs been some situations â inconsequential events, if you will â that need a glance over.â Nancy arches a brow. âYou mean an investigation.â âAh, such a serious word. I simply want to make sure we are fully prepared to expand the business.â Nancyâs eyes narrow. âRight. When would you need me there?â âAs soon as possible -â Nigel catches himself. âI mean, at your earliest convenience.â Nancy glances over her notes, running her hand over the page filled by red ink. She closes her eyes against the sight and says, âIâll be there tomorrow.â
thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and stay safe. and please consider following me here and on twitter! xoxo
#nancy drew#nd#nancy drew pc#nd pc#CUR#clue crew#blackmoor manor#curse of blackmoor manor#francy#frank hardy#nancy drew fanfiction
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Holidate - Part One
Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader
Words: 3000ish
Warnings: Overbearing parents, alcohol
Summary: Tired of being alone on holidays, Sweet Pea and Y/N decide to be each otherâs plationic plus-ones all year round. What could go wrong?
Notes: Iâm super late posting this and I feel awful about it!! I just couldnât decide how I wanted it to go and ended up rewriting it three timesđ¤Śđťââď¸
âNo Mom.â Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose, irritation seeping into her words. Thereâs already a dull ache drumming behind her temples and she hasnât even made it home yet. âIâm not using this as an excuse because Iâm running late.â
âWell I simply canât just drop everything and come get you, Iâve got to stuff the Turkey and cut the vegetables and-â She lets her Motherâs voice drowned out into background noise with a frustrated sigh on her end.
She hates Christmas, she thinks. Hates the decorations, the songs, the cheer. Every last bit. Nothingâs been the same since the truth came out about Hal and-
âIs Jug there?â She cuts her own thoughts short, desperate not to think of her Dad and all the things heâs done right now.
âOf course Forsyth is here!â Y/N can almost see Jug flinch at the correction and bites back a laugh. âBut him and Betty have already opened a bottle of wine.â
âCan you just ask him for the number of his Dadâs garage please?â Another five minutes of Alice rambling on passes before Jugheadâs voice appears on the other end with a joyful âMerry Christmasâ and a direct contact to someone who might be able to help.
She thanks him quickly, hanging up before she can even finish saying goodbye, so he doesnât have a chance to hand the phone back. And as she leans against the car behind her, the same car that had given up on her just as she passed the town sign, she dials the number and hopes sheâll make it home in time for dinner.
Otherwise, she might never hear the end of it.
-
âAgain, in English?â Y/N cocks an eyebrow at him, the string of words heâd just said sounding almost foreign in her head.Â
 She doesnât mean for it to sound as rude as it does, but she canât help it. Sheâs tired, exhausted even, not to mention cold. The snow fall had picked up five minutes after sheâd called the number Jug had given her and it had taken him, or Sweet Pea as heâd introduced himself, almost 40 minutes to reach her.Â
But he just laughs it off, smirks before firing it straight back at her. âYou arenât getting anywhere in this car, anytime soon princess.â
âGreat!â Itâs official. Her momâs going to kill her and sheâll be blamed for ruining Christmas. She throws her hands up in defeat, kicking a tyre in the process. âJust great!â
âIf it makes you feel better, this isnât how I planned on spending my Christmas Eve either.â He watches her amused, another laugh passing his lips before the sarcastic remark follows, his arms now crossed over his chest and she almost feels guilty.Â
âIâm sorry for being such an inconvenience.â She throws a false apology at him along with  a fake grin that falls into a frown almost immediately.Â
âApology accepted.â Sheâs scowling at him now, eyes rolling back but he simply ignores it, happy to keep winding her up. âWant me to give you a ride somewhere while I tow this back?â
âOnly on one condition.â She points a finger over her shoulder towards his trunk, the radio still on loud. âWe find a station that isnât playing Christmas music.â
âHey, itâs either Mariah Carey, or you walk Sweetheart.â He shrugs, walking backwards, watching her make the choice.Â
He canât help but laugh again when she sighs and runs to the passenger seat, desperate to seek shelter from the snow.Â
-
10 minutes after Sweet Pea kindly drops her off at her childhood home, Y/N finds herself still on the porch out front, mentally preparing herself for whatâs about to come.
She sucks in a breath. Two, three. And with a fake smile so sickly sweet it makes her stomach hurt; she lets herself in.
Pollyâs the first to spot her, catches her the minute she walks through the door and pulls her into a hug before she can even drop her bags. She canât help but sink into the embrace, itâs always nice to see her older sister alone like this, but Y/N doesnât even get the chance to ask her how she is before the twins descend down the stairs and push past them in a blur.
âJuniper put the presents down- Dagwood no!â She feels Polly gently squeeze her hand in a silent way of saying theyâll catch up later before sheâs chasing after them, joining an exhausted looking Jason who pauses long enough to wave a quick hello before he resumes pursuit.
She moves further into the house, away from the chaos of the living room and towards the interesting smells wafting from the kitchen. Itâs impossible not to hear her Mother barking orders from where she stands over the stove, while Jug and Betty listen to every word, working on the dining table and itâs fixtures like a well-oiled machine.
âY/N/N youâre here!â Betty looks up with a soft smile but doesnât dare move from her task and face the wrath of Alice Cooper.
âFinally!â Itâs Aliceâs turn to look at her now, a perfectly shaped eyebrow arching in distaste as her eyes roam over her middle daughter. âPlease tell me you arenât wearing that to dinner?â
Y/N lets out a breath she didnât realise she was holding and prepares to fire back when a gentle arm lands around her shoulder with a calming chuckle.
âOh come on Mom, Y/N looks fine.â Charles plants a quick kiss to her forehead before ruffling her hair and they both laugh. Her brother had always been her saving grace in situations like this, the only one brave enough to stand up for himself and the others, ever the mediator. But not even he was enough to put Alice off her persistent questioning, she was already sick of her Motherâs judgement and they hadnât even touched on her job or her relationship status yet.
-
âYouâve definitely told them we arenât officially together, right?â Sweet Pea takes one last, slow drag of his cigarette before stomping it out under his boot. Josie nods at him reassuringly but one look up at the exterior of her parents house has his stomach in knots. âThey know weâre just casual?â
âSweet Pea would you stop?â She playfully pokes at his ribs, but he just sighs and rubs a nervous hand down his face.
He couldnât help it, that sick feeling rising from the pit of stomach by the second. The idea of spending Christmas with Josieâs family, a girl heâd only been dating for a month, was absolutely terrifying on all levels. But Fangs had ditched him to spend the holidays with his boyfriend in New York, not that he could really blame him, and he had no other family in town so when she originally offered, heâd jumped at the chance of not spending the day alone.
Part of him had regretted it since.
If Sweet Pea thought the outside of house was impressive, with itâs perfectly placed lights and overly decorated windows, it was nothing compared to what was waiting for him on the inside.
Myles and Sierra McCoy welcome them at the front door with bright smiles and open arms that engulf Sweet Pea before he even has the chance to say hello.
Josie joins in, the four of them becoming one big, massive group hug like heâs been part of their family his whole life and not just a stranger potentially only passing through. All three of them squeal in excitement before someone yanks him in doors.
If he had doubts before, he thinks, heâs almost certain heâs in over his head now.
-
Betty gets engaged on Christmas Morning.
Right in front of the Christmas tree, just after the last presents are opened and the twins are happily distracted by a mountain of toys; Jughead drops to one knee and pops the question under twinkling lights.Â
The minute Betty gasps the word âyesâ the family erupts in cheers, fawning over the couple. Of course Alice is already crying, Polly demands to see the ring, while Charles and Jason pat Jug on the back.Â
Y/N however stays put, her eyes falling down into her mug of spiked coffee that her mom had scolded her over, eyebrows raised over the rim as she knocks it back.Â
âArenât you going to congratulate your sister?â Alice sends her a pointed look, catching her before she can slope off into the peaceful confines of the kitchen.Â
âCongrats Betts.â She pulls her into a hug and paints on the biggest smile she can muster as she mumbles into her hair. âIâm so happy for you.â
And she is. Her sisters getting everything sheâs dreamed of with Jug, of course sheâs happy, but itâs hard to ignore the fact that her younger sister will be married before her.Â
Even Charles has betrayed her this year and invited a date to Christmas dinner leaving her the last single Cooper. And her mom wasnât prepared to let her forget it anytime soon.Â
-
Sweet Pea successfully manages to make it through family movie night, forcefully sat between Josie and her mother, hot cocoa in hand and surrounded from all sides. He even grins and bares the series of photo albums that follow, another embarrassing photo of Josie lurking behind every page turn, but he draws the line when the marriage talk starts, declaring heâs suddenly tired and turns to run up the stairs so fast heâs surprised he doesnât pull something on the way.
Sienna wakes them up on Christmas morning with a soft knock at 8am sharp, wearing a bright red Christmas jumper and holding two more for the both them.
The mere idea of it makes Sweet Peaâs skin itch as much as the material does once he begrudgingly pulls it over his head.
The rest of the morning is spent sipping coffee, watching the three McCoyâs exchanging gifts. Heâs too distracted, wondering if itâs still too late to find a way out of the whole thing to even notice Josie standing in front of him until sheâs shoved the present right under his nose.
âMerry Christmas my love.â She places it down on his lap and Sweet Pea finds himself wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
âJose I⌠I thought we said we werenât doing gifts?â All three pairs of eyes are now on him, burning their way into his skin and heâs sure heâs never felt embarrassment like it.
âBut that was just a joke, right?â He smiles awkwardly when she laughs, but the sound is humourless, and he can already see the anger bubbling behind her eyes. She doesnât even give him the chance to reply. âWhat, so Iâm good enough to sleep with but you canât buy me a gift?â
He chokes, shocked by her transparency around her parents while his cheeks redden by the second.
Ten minutes later heâs out on the drive, bags thrown in the back of his truck, scrambling to get away as fast as he can.
-
Christmas Day ends the way it started.
Miserably sat at the kitchen table, sipping on something alcoholic held in her hand.
Polly and Jason had slipped off not long after dinner, taking two sugar high kids and all their loud noises with them. Betty and Jug now sit on one couch, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her head resting on her chest, content in their own bubble of love while Alice sits on the other, quizzing Kevin Keller, Charlesâ surprise date. Sheâd feel bad for him if she wasnât already feeling relieved that her Motherâs attention had turned to someone else for five minutes. Her brother sits besides her, topping up a glass of red.
âHe seems nice.â Charles hums in response, biting back a laugh. Was she missing a joke? âWhat?â
âIf I tell you something, you canât tell the others.â A quick eager nod and sheâs shuffling closer so he can whisper his secret. âKevâs just my Holidate.â
She blinks back in shock. âHolidate?â
âJust a date for the holiday, someone to keep Mom off my back.â He shrugs like itâs nothing, like itâs the simplest solution to the problem. He sips his wine while he waits for her to process it. âThereâs no strings attached and I donât have to spend events alone. Iâm even heading down to his parents after New Years to return the favour.â
âThats...â Y/N breathes out, sheâs a little envious she hadnât thought of it herself. âWhat an idea.â
-
Y/N sinks into a booth at Popâs Chocklit Shoppe two days later with a sigh of relief, happy to welcome the peace that comes with being away from her family.
She loves them, her siblings, her mother, the twins, of course but itâs exhausting. The intruding questions, the never ending merry go round of pity and interfering. She knows deep down itâs only because they care, but sometimes she wished theyâd just leave her alone.
Pops promptly brings her order of curly fries over, with a soft smile and an extra chocolate shake on the side she didnât order. Itâs been two years since she last stepped into the place, yet he still remembers her favourite like it was yesterday.
âItâs good to see you Y/N.â Thereâs something in his tone that just feels like home and she finds herself welcoming it, itâs been a long time since anything in Riverdale has felt anything close to that, not since the truth about her dad.
Pops doesnât stick around, a light pat to her shoulder before heâs a retreating form, leaving her to her thoughts. She barely makes it through a fry before someoneâs sliding in opposite her.
Sweet Pea pushes the key across the table, grinning cheekily as he helps himself to the basket in front of him. She barely knows him and heâs already stealing her food. âOne fully functional car.â
âFinally!â She snatched them up, hiding them
in her bag and he can see the tension practically melting from her shoulders. âNow I can get out of the hell hole.â
âChristmas went that well? He asks, curiosity peaked.
âYou could say that.â She presses herself further into her seat, huffing as she rubs the palm of her hands against her jeans. The anxious look in her eyes tells him that what ever she might say next wonât necessarily make sense and sheâs a little embarrassed by it. âMy sister got engaged.â
âTo FPS son right?â He vaguely recalls his boss proudly telling anyone who would listen that morning. âAnd thatâs a bad thing?â
âSheâs my younger sister, and now, as Iâm about to be the only official unmarried Cooper daughter my mom has even more of an excuse to interfere in my love life.â The words just slip out and she finds part of her gladly confessing her thoughts to a virtual stranger instead of keeping them in. He smiles in a way that tells her he gets it.
âYeah well, bet you a chocolate shake mine was worse.â He ignores the glare she sends him when he innocently brings her existing milkshake to his lips and continues when she says nothing. âI spent it with someone Iâve been dating for four weeks and her parents.â
She almost chokes on a curly fry. âYou got serious that quick?â
âOf course not, and we both knew it.â She stares at him like he has two heads, he knows she canât quite fit âcausal relationshipâ and âfamily Christmasâ together so he does it for her. âDidnât want to spend the day alone so I took her up on the offer. Cue overbearing parents, the cringest matching jumpers and the ultimate gift exchange where I got her nothing because we agreed no presents.â
âArenât you old enough to know by now that no gifts definitely means get her a gift?â She laughs when he rolls his eyes.
âEnded with her kicking me out before dinner.â She shakes her head, laughs again as she calls him tragic and a tiny part of him agrees. âAnd now Iâm officially dateless for New Yearâs Eve.â
âThanks for reminding me I have to come back in a few days to attend Riverdaleâs Annual Blossom New Years Eve Party alone for the second year running.â She wrinkles her nose in disgusted, unprepared to have her friends on her back as well as her family, and ends up missing the way his eyebrows raise in surprise.
âYou know Toni and Cheryl?â
âTâs been my best friend longer than I can remember and Cherylâs brother is married to my sister, guess you could say I know them pretty well.â She tilts her head to the side, eying him slowly, like she suddenly sees him in a different way. âHowâd you know them?â
âGuess you could say I spend more time than I should at the Wyrm.â The mention of Toniâs bar lights up her face. âPlus Toniâs been a really good friend to me since I got here, I was actually meant to be taking Josie to their party.â
âI think I know a way to solve our little problem.â A plan suddenly forms in her head, he doesnât know whether to be worried or not as he watches the smile on her face widen. âSweet Pea how would you like to be my Holidate this Friday?â
âYour holi-what?â
Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp
Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @wildberryyyy @hopelesslylosttheway @be-gay-do-crime-cutie
Holidate Taglist: @popcrone818
#riverdale#riverdale imagine#riverdale sweet pea#riverdale fanficton#riverdale series#riverdale au#riverdale edit#riverdale one shot#sweet pea#sweet pea x reader#sweet pea riverdale#sweet pea au#sweet pea fanfiction#sweet pea imagine#sweet pea one shot#sweet pea edit#sweet pea series#holidate#Holidate au
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do you have any soft levihan hc's living in your mind rent-free as of recent?
Oof lmao, so Iâm not the type who can think of other HCâs on a fly. What helped a lot though is going through my old fics and finding some commonalities among them then going through other fics I enjoyed and finding some more commonalities among them and realizing âhey I think thatâs an HCâ
My HCs go straight from the mind to fanfiction more often than not so I barely have time or the space to think âHange and Levi do that,â because when I get into enough of a black hole, I have the weird habit of blurring the line between canon and headcanon.Â
Anyway, I listed down five HCs I found and I added the fanfiction I made where I found them more prominent and which satisfied that similar âoomphâ I needed.Â
So I guess it became a fic list indexed by HCs. I hope this helps someone find fics to read at least.
1. Hange grew up rich.
Ahhh yes. The classic Hange grew up rich HC. I made like three posts about it so I ainât expounding on it here. But have the links.Â
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
My fics: Heroes and Victims, Passion Project, A Tale of Two Slaves, Division of Labor, Trials and Tributes
Fic Recs: Thereâs Thunder in our Hearts by @smallblip, In another life by @fanmoose12
2. Levi would be a stay at home dad while Hange works full time.
I honestly think Levi just does not have the same sense of adventure as other people? His life is just so sad and heâs just too strong that he gets pulled into action anyway? The moment he gets time to breathe and the world becomes peaceful, he decides to settle down. The magic of Levihan is I feel like Hange is the one who gets more excited about the peace and the rapid technological development which comes with the end of the war. So yeah, thatâs how I write my domestic fluff I guess.
My fics: Rough day, Household PlanningÂ
Fic Recs: I donât remember reading some but if someone can point me in the right direction :D
3. Hange is a nerd for anything requiring the scientific method
This is just a personal preference when reading but there are just certain professions I like seeing Hange in when reading Modern AUs. Scientific method doesnât necessarily mean that itâs a science related thing. I think Hange as a psychologist, humanities or historian works. As long as sheâs constantly using her big brain. Like I guess I canât imagine her in sales? Or customer service where she has to keep up appearances or social pleasantries. I imagine her though in anything with big brain moves with less need for social pleasantries like law, medicine, history, research or sciences.Â
My fics: A Tale of Two Slaves, Division of Labor, Trials and Tributes
Fic Recs: Yellow by @ariadneamare, Wherever you will go by @lizaloveslevihan, Partners by @fanmoose12
4. They're both inexperienced with love.
One HC I have is Levi and Hange are just incredibly emotionally constipated. Like they never had to experience love like Levi was just too busy surviving and Hange was too busy being interested in the world. So like, maybe they were each others first love? And thatâs why itâs so hard for them to notice?Â
I actually have a fic sitting around my laptop about the development of their relationship in canon from Erwinâs point of view which was one of the first fics I also ever wrote about Levihan. There are so many fics out there which just depict this so damn well Iâll just drop them below. Â
My fics: Passion Project, My Sweetest Downfall, Free Spot, That one unposted Erwin POV fic
Fic Recs: : Last Christmas by @fanmoose12, Aftermath by @just-quintessentially-me, Terrifyingly Complicated by @fanmoose12, Partners by @fanmoose12 , Perfect Christmas by @lizaloveslevihan, Dreams by @lizaloveslevihanÂ
5. They actually only developed romantically and started meta-ing their relationship during the time-skip.Â
I hold this HC very close to my heart when reading canon fics like I think the best way I was able to describe how this HC works for me was writing my first ever fic in the fandom âWould you cry?â So if youâre interested to see how I see it, you can check out that fic.Â
My fic: Would You Cry?
Fic Recs: Thin Ice by Xenobia (Lw NSFW),Â
I know I missed out on a lot of good fics which probably would satisfy that similar oomph. I have the tendency though to just search the bookmarks of the authors of works I enjoyed instead of browsing Levihan tags on AO3. I also frequent the Japan fandom a lot so I donât have the widest coverage for English Levihan fanfics. I also got into AUs only fairly recently so I havenât been able to fully enjoy what the wonderful world of AUs has to offer just yet.
Anyway, I hope that answers your question. Thanks for the ask anon! Very much appreciated
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Boy Like a Fading Dream
A part two of the uni AU? More like a "I wanted to characterize the Langa of this AU". Wrote it a couple of days ago but didn't want to back-to-back post, just give a few days for the first part to settle in.
Find it on AO3 here!
Context: For his skills on a snowboard, Langa landed himself a scholarship. But he hates it. He hates his studies. He hates the athletic training. He just wants to go back to the time when it was fun, racing his dad to the bottom of the mountain.
âWhereâs dad?â
Langa lets his bag hit the ground with a thud as he kicks off his shoes. His mother is in the living room; sheâs cutting carrots in front of some sitcom. She lifts her head to smile at her son as soon as he enters her line of sight.
âHow was your day, baby?â
Langa sighs as he crashes next to her. He feels her watch him as he picks up a carrot from the bowl before snapping it in half between his teeth. He feels her gaze, just as heavy as his eyelids are.
âTiring.â
Itâs all he manages to say to her. Itâs all he finds to say. Tiring. His days are always just tiring.
âDid you have fun at practice?â
Fun? Langa barely remembers what that feels like. Fun, it feels like a foreign word now. He knows he must have felt it in the past, the thrill of gliding down the snowy slopes, but now itâs anything but fun. Snowboarding isnât fun anymore, especially when thereâs no snow outside. Especially when heâs cooped up in a gym rather than out on the open mountains.
So was training fun? No. No, it wasnât.
âIt was fine,â he lies. He canât tell his mother how much he hates it. He canât tell her when itâs whatâs paying for his education â an education he also hates. âThe usual, you know.â
Nanako pats his arm, her smile sweet and ever so motherly. âThatâs good, baby. Iâm glad youâre enjoying yourself.â
Langa sucks in a breath as his mother presses a kiss to his hair. Iâm glad youâre enjoying yourself. If only she knew how big a lie that was. He would have done anything to just quit everything right now and lay in bed for the next ten years. Everything lost its appeal. If only everything could stop just for a moment, just for a minute, just enough time for Langa to catch his breath.
âDadâs not home yet, is he?â
Nanako shakes her head. âHeâs staying late tonight. He has a project thatâs due, I think, tomorrow? Something about his team not being up-to-date so he has to stay late.â
Langa sighs again as he straightens out on the couch. He grabs another carrot before getting up to fetch his bag.
âI have to go study.â
Nanako doesnât say anything as he leaves to climb the stairs that lead to his bedroom. Langa knows sheâs watching him, watching his every move, but she doesnât say anything. Maybe she can sense his disappointment. Maybe she knows that heâs lying to her.
Langa crashes in his bed, slinging his bag at the end of his mattress where it bounced before falling among the pile of dirty clothes heâs thrown aside. His room is a mess, but he canât bring himself to clear out his trash. Heâs already in a deficit of energy when just doing his mundane daily tasks. So he crashes among his pillows and pulls out his phone.
It's automatic, the swiping left and clicking on the app. Itâs become a routine, crashing in bed and opening Instagram to scroll mindlessly. Langa doesnât actually care for whatâs on his screen, he just needs something to do, something to make him forget about the emptiness thatâs formed in his chest.
So he scrolls. Pictures of old friends from high school, professional pictures and reels of snowboarders, screenshots of old Tumblr posts, reels of animals being cute, Langa scrolls through them all. He scrolls, scrolls until everything on his phone becomes a big blur. He scrolls until his phone slips from his fingers, falling flat on his face.
Another sigh as he turns to his side. His phone rests against his pillow as he goes back to scrolling. Always scrolling, numbing everything heâs ever felt. Because Langa does feel. He feels a million things, but none of those feelings are good. Frustration, loneliness, exhaustion, the list can go on. He hates all his feelings, especially that hollow feeling of disappointment that has been growing over the past year or so.
A notification pulls Langa out of his mindless scrolling. He usually ignores them, swiping them away, but for some reason, this one catches his attention. For some reason, he clicks it rather than get rid of it. The flash of red catches his attention.
.MechanicStarReki. â Suggested for you
Langa squints at his screen. The name doesnât ring a bell but the face seems familiar. Familiar, but he canât pinpoint where exactly it is that heâs seen it. His memory of the familiar face is hazy, like that of a dream starting to fade as morning takes shape. Familiar yet so foreign.
Langa scrolls through the profile, careful to not make his presence known. Most of the captions are in Japanese and he canât find it in himself to decipher their meaning. He knows with a little effort, and maybe a little help from a translator app or from his mother, he could read the words, but he doesnât bother. He contents himself with the scarce English. He contents himself with the many pictures of a boy with red hair.
The last post dates back a few weeks, a set of pictures with the caption âSee you for Christmas.â The pictures show the redhead hugging who Langa assumes to be his sisters. They all look too much alike for them to not be family. Langa swipes between the pictures, taking in the scene: two school-aged girls cling to the boy, identical in all ways except the color of their dresses. Heâs hugging them, a wide grin stretching across his face. Langa swipes again. Another girl is shown in the picture â she must be around 15. Sheâs pouting, but the sun reflects against the tears that had started to form at the corner of her eyes as she hugs the boy. Her eyes are the same color as his, a deep amber color that Langa knows heâs seen somewhere. He knows he's seen the boy, but he also knows itâs impossible. He canât have seen him, not with the location associated with the picture: Okinawa, Japan. Thereâs no way heâs ever seen this boy; Langaâs only been to Japan once, the summer before he started high school.
Langa moves on from the set of pictures. He scrolls down, analyzing everything that has been posted over the years. Skateboards, sketches of various types, doodles, the boy with his friends, more of his family. Langa always pauses on the pictures of him. He always squints at him as if that would help him remember where heâs seen him.
A part of Langa knows that this is obsessive behavior, that he should just let it go, but he needs to know. He needs to know where heâs seen those faded freckles against sun-kissed skin. He needs to know where heâs seen those bright amber eyes. He needs to know where heâs seen that lopsided grin. He needs to know where heâs seen this boy, this boy that feels like a fading dream.
Does he resemble an actor from one of his motherâs shows, the Japanese ones she puts on while she cooks? No, thatâs not it. Heâs too young to look like any of those actors. Anyway, Langa never pays attention to the actors on the screen; he only knows the story because his mother has been following the ridiculous drama for years now. So the boy doesnât just look like someone Langa might have seen on tv.
Does he look like an athlete Langaâs watched perform time after time, desperately trying to analyze his technique in hopes of recreating whatever is being done? No, it isnât that either. Langa never recognizes the athletes, even when they tell him they've been competing against each other for years. He remembers their boards, but never their faces. So it isnât that.
No matter how much Langa rakes his brain, he canât find where it is that heâs seen the grin, the bright eyes, the freckles. Maybe the boy really is a figment of his imagination, a face given to a faceless dream that comes back every so often. Maybe heâs caught a glance of someone who looks like him in the street, or maybe itâs just a mere coincidence that the boy Langaâs made up looks like him, a mixture of a bunch of features that gave someone real. Or maybe Langa is delusional from his lack of sleep.
Langa drops his phone as his door is pushed open. He knows his mother knocked, but when he gets lost in his own little world, nothing else exists. Nothing exists until his bubble bursts.
âLanga sweetheart?â Nanako is standing in the doorway. She's looking at him, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. Her usual worry is evident in her features. âIs everything alright?â
Langa shifts, pushing his legs off of his bed to sit up. He nods at his mother, his words failing him. He hates how he finds himself unable to speak.
âAre you sure?â She shifts her weight to the side. Worry. âIâve been calling you to set the table for the past 10 minutes now.â
Langa blinks at his mother before apologizing. He hadnât heard her, he says. He had gotten lost in his own little world. Heâs sorry, heâll be down in a minute to set the table.
âLanga.â Nanakoâs voice pierces through him as he fishes his phone out from under his pillow. âAre you sure nothingâs bothering you?â
Langa almost cracks. He almost tells her. He almost admits that he hates everything heâs doing. He almost admits that he hates going to school. He almost admits that he hates training. He almost admits that the thing he hates most is himself. Almost, but he doesnât. He wouldnât be able to survive the disappointed look on his motherâs face. He knows she would understand, that sheâd tell him heâs allowed to quit, that she would support him no matter what, but he also knows she would be disappointed.
So he just smiles at her, that closed-mouthed smile heâs been practicing for years.
âIâm just tired.â
Nanako nods before making her way to him. She holds him tightly against herself, the warm embrace of a mother. And for a moment, Langa doesnât hate himself.
âIf youâre tired, I can bring your food up. You donât have to eat downstairs if itâs too much.â
Langa shakes his head. Dinnertime is the only time of the day where he can spend time with his parents. Between classes and training, heâs barely ever home. Itâs the only time where things feel normal, like they were back in the day when Langa was young, doing homework at the kitchen table while his mother cooked, explaining to him what he had to do. Itâs the only time where he feels like theyâre a family again.
âJust give me a minute and Iâll be down.â
Nanako sighs as she steps away from him, nodding. A small, tired smile pulls at the corner of her mouth as she turns back to him, halfway through the door.
âYou promise youâd tell me if something was bothering you?â
Langa nods, promising, but the promise is hollow, his fingers crossed behind his back. Itâs broken before even being uttered because Langa knows that he canât make that promise. Thereâs just no way that he can promise such a thing. He canât bring himself to tell anyone about how he feels. But still, he smiles and nods at his mother as she makes her way out of his room, down the stairs, back to the kitchen. He smiles until he canât bear it anymore and crystal tears fall from his eyes, fall right onto the picture of the grinning boy in his phone, the phone he's been gripping so tightly.
#oh yeah Oliver is alive for this one#Given that I want to make Langa miserable I had to give him back one happy thing#and his dad seemed like a good thing to give back#And without a dead dad he can stay in Canada#Sorry for the lack of concrete Renga#Given that I like this AU but don't actually have a plot for it it'll be a bunch of snippets#and snippets means that there will eventually be concrete renga content#but I had to establish this 'background' first#Also it's 2021 all the kids are miserable in one way or another because I'm mean and have been feeling like shit lately#I really hate the titles of these but I don't have the energy to think of something good#renga#snowgear#lanreki#langa x reki#reki x langa#langa hasegawa#langa#hasegawa langa#reki#kyan reki#reki kyan#nanako hasegawa#hasegawa nanako#sk8#sk8 the infinity#lils writes
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Traffic Lights Are Burninâ
[Read on AO3]
Written in honor of @nebluusâs birthday! She asked for some WFB, and of the options I gave she chose the next part of our Six Flags saga...only the beginning scene of that chapter ended up ballooning out into this so...it ended up being less Amusement Park Shenanigans and more Wholesome Boys Will Be Boys Content. IâM SURE MADI WILL BE JUST FINE WITH THAT TOO đ
âAre you making an omelette?â
English is not, functionally, Mitsuhideâs first language. Not that he thinks of it like that-- first or second, third or fourth; thereâs no ranking in his life, no moment in which one language followed another. There was English with Mama and quebecois with Papa; a plan quickly scuttled by Mitsuhide being the fifth Lowen sibling. Refusing to be pigeonholed into a single language no matter how many times Mama repeated consistency is key, his brothers mostly spoke a tossed salad of both and assumed heâd understand the lettuce.
Coupled with the fact that all his cousins lived in Toronto anyway, Mitsuhide had hardly begun talking himself before it became outside quebecois and inside English. Unless they left the province, in which case it was a free-for-all that left his few monolingual aunts and uncles dizzy.
Which is to say, Mitsuhide only becomes aware of the precise inner ranking of his languages in moments like this, where gut immediately kicks out a dry âjâessaie.â The translation is vetoed on the grounds that although in quebecois heâs never met a word he couldnât steep in sarcasm and smuggle in a sacre, he prefers to keep his English so clean it squeaks.
Youâve got it all backwards, Kihal had told him as he sweltered under the San Juan sun, English is fake, you can be as much of an asshole as you want it in, it doesnât count.
Itâs true, thereâs something thatâs more real to him in French, thatâs more real about him, but, well-- there were far fewer cousins to tattle on his potty mouth this way. And now that he knows Obi...
Well, if Kiki ever made good on her threats to teach him any of his âchurch swears,â heâd probably never sleep easy again. So instead, he scrolls through his mental rolodex of possible appropriate replies before settling on, âWould you like one?â
Zen glances up from his array of pamphlets, glossy paper glaring beneath the overhead lamp. It matches the way Zen is looking at him. âWe donât have time for that.â
Mitsuhide frowns, giving his eggs one last vigorous whisk before pouring them into the pan. âThereâs always time for breakfast. Itâs the most important meal of the day.â
He glances over just in time to see Zenâs grimace. âShirayuki really could be your sister.â
Thereâs really no reason he has to look so horrified by the idea. His brothers may all be broad shouldered, barrel-chested giants, but plenty of his cousins made pocket money in high school through catalogue modeling. And theyâre all very nice girls.
He doesnât mention it. A conversation never ends well if you have to whip out photos of female relatives to prove your point. âWould you like one?â he repeats instead, a safer tactic overall.
Zenâs nose wrinkles beneath some dubiously drawn eyebrows. âAre you putting spinach in there?â
âKale,â he agrees. âAnd chicken.â
âIn a breakfast omelette?â He clucks his tongue, just the way the Wisteriaâs chef would when he attempted to cook at the estate. Quel dommage, he would say, sighing over the cutting board, why would you do that to perfectly good eggs? âWhy would you do that?â
Because these muscles donât come cheap; Mitsuhide chokes down a truly staggering amount of chicken in order to keep them. Roasted, of course-- boiled is technically better for protein, but even he has to draw the line somewhere. The eggs have less, but they are calorie efficient; heâd eat more of them if he could stomach the slimy, snake-like sensation of swallowing them down hard boiled.
But explaining his diet regime usually ended with glazed eyes, so he settles for, âI could always put something different in yours. Thereâs ham.â
Fancy ham, Obi calls it. Itâs just from the deli counter, fresh sliced from whatever quality cutâs on sale, but considering how the first time Obi saw a charcuterie board, he shouted, Oh, Lunchables!--
Well, Mitsuhide can accept that maybe they have different benchmarks for fancy. And somehow just the simple act of calling it that does make it taste better. Or at least more satisfying when itâs shoved between a Hawaiian roll and deli cheese.
Thereâs a soft shuffle by the kitchen door, and a wild thatch of bristle peeps around the frame. Mitsuhide shakes his head with huff. Thatâs a new one-- just think the devilâs name and he appears.
Obi lopes into the kitchen, all long limbs and smooth movements, blurring right into the background without any effort at all. Heâd gotten Mitsuhide a few times when heâd first moved in, popping up wherever it was sure to be the most inconvenient, grinning like a cat with feathers in its teeth. But once you knew the trick of it, well-- itâs no effort to keep the kid in his sights.
Which is why he has a full, uninterrupted view when Obi slips right up to Zenâs elbow, and asks, âWhatcha doing, chief?â
âWah!â Pamphlets fly up, a glittering flock of wings swooping beneath the lamp. Zen slaps them down before they can skitter off the tableâs edge. âObi! Make noise for fuckâs sake!â
âSorry,â he sing-songs, not a sincere note in it. Two long fingers pluck a pamphlet off the wood, twisting it between them. âWhatâs all this? They starting to put theme parks on exams now?â
âNo.â Zen scowls, snatching it out of his hands. âIâm just making todayâs itinerary.â
Mitsuhide slides his omelette onto a plate, turning just in time to catch the glance Obi sends him. It somehow says is he fucking with me while also implying Iâll hold him down if we gotta send him to the doctor. âAn itinerary?â
He leans a hip against the island, fishing out a fork. What was it Obi always said? Dinner tastes better with a show. Time to find out whether it extends to breakfast too.
Zen fixes Obi with a look that could have had trenches with all its affront. âYou canât go to an amusement park without a plan. How else do you get on all the coasters?â
âItâs only Six Flags New England.â A week ago, the name alone made Obi flee like a cat from a bath, but now every syllable drips with derision, like a sommelier reviewing boxed wine. âTheyâve got what? Superman?â
Mitsuhide shoves a corner of his omelette in his mouth. Itâs not as good as a sausage, mushroom, and cheese, but, well, itâll do. âBizarro.â
âBizarro.â Obi scoffs. âSee? Nothing. Besides, I thought you were the kind of guy to spring for fast passes, boss.â
Zenâs always been sensitive; the sort of kid who tended to pop off when a situation came to a simmer instead of trying to turn down the heat. When Izana had been sitting president, heâs spent half his tenure fielding tense calls, sometimes even climbing into a towncar at a momentâs notice to be taken back east. The school, heâs always say, lifting a shoulder, my brother is proving to be a challenge, and my mother is...unreachable.
Heâd thought this Zen kid must be like the ones he knew on the ice, punching first and asking questions later, complaining about being put in the box. All temper and no temperance, Mama used to say when she drove him home, canât talk when you got plastic between your teeth.
But then heâd met him, undersized and stick-limbed, living in that house with people paid to be invisible. A kid with too much on his shoulders and too many eyes to watch him stumble under it. Heâs come a long way from there.
So when Zen squirms in his chair, red already starting to lick up his neck, Mitsuhide doesnât enjoy it. On the contrary, Zenâs discomfort is his discomfort, a failure of him to keep the watchful eye on him that Izana asked him to.
But it also doesnât stop him from adding, âShirayuki believes that waiting in line is part of the amusement park experience.â
Obi looks as though heâs just been told itâs his birthday and Christmas, all rolled into one. âOf course she does.â His mouth sharpens to a wicked grin. âSo youâll be lowering yourself to the peasantâs lines today, huh, Your Highness?â
âDonât call me that,â he grumbles, swatting him away. âNo oneâs being lowered anywhere. We wonât be running into any of them so long as we get there early and hit the coasters in the right order.â
Obi coughs. Or at least, makes it sound like he is. âUh-huh.â
âWhere is Shirayuki anyway?â Zen glares at the empty doorway, brows heaving like thunderclouds over the bridge of his nose. âI thought you said youâd get her.â
âI did.â Obi twitches his shoulders; as good as a shrug, from him. âSheâs getting ready.â
âItâs been fifteen minutes.â Zenâs glare changes target to him, thunder rolling in the tone of his voice. âShirayuki doesnât take this long to get ready.â
When Mitsuhide glances up, chewing around another stab of egg, kale, and chicken, Obiâs eyebrows are already there to meet him. His head tilts, just the barest degree; this is your show, big guy.
Mitsuhide coughs, trying to clear his throat of leaf bits. âGirls,â he starts, the ground sinking beneath him with each word, âlike to look nice. Especially when they are on, uh, dates.â
âThis isnât a date,â Zen informs him, more than a little put out. âObiâs going.â
The sound Obi makes can only be termed as distressed. âI didnât want to.â
For exactly this reason, is what he doesnât say. Doesnât even show it on his face, though it has to be lurking beneath it, considering how he--
Well, considering nothing Mitsuhide knows for sure. But certainly a few things he reasonably suspects.
âChief.â Obi flips the chair next to him, straddling it. âYou know, I really thought it couldnât be true. I really wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. But to hear you now--â he leans in, one narrow brow raising the same time his voice drops-- âyou really do chicken out when it comes to getting chummy with Doc.â
Mitsuhide nearly chokes on his chicken.
Zenâs red all over, like someone pulled him from a boiling pot and put him on a plate. âYou donât know that.â
âSure I do,â he says, so easy. âDoc told me.â
âShe said that?â His skinâs so flushed Mitsuhideâs half afraid heâll pass out, but instead he just collapses against the ladderback, head buried in his arms. âShirayuki?âÂ
âPretty much.â Obi sighs, hands braced on the table. âI mean, is it so hard to say she looks nice when she dresses up? Or that you like her hair, or--â he stumbles, shaking his head-- âno, not the hair. Too loaded. But you know, one of her floaty little numbers. Her freckles. Something.â
âI have!â
Obi lifts a dubiously narrow eyebrow. âLike when?â
âAh...â Whatever the answer is, itâs not helping his blood flow problem. Mitsuhide nearly opens his mouth, searching for a good way to make himself a target-- âThe Big E.â
Well, there goes that plan.
Obiâs inquisition crumples into confusion. âWhat? When did you--â
Every word ekes into the air with the utmost resistance. âWhen she was wearing your hoodie.â
âWhen she was wearing my--?â Gold eyes round to coins. âChief.â
For a solid minute, thatâs the only reaction-- wide-eyed disbelief, earned from two sides. But Obi coughs, mouth twitching, and itâs a snort, a smirk, and--
And then Obi launches himself away from the table, both hands still gripping the edge as he falls apart utterly. The chairâs back keeps him from putting his head between his knees, but spiritually heâs there, tears tracking down his cheeks as his laughs wheeze out of him
One hand finally slaps the table, like heâs asking for a time out. Zen frowns down at him, red finally fading to a painful pink. âItâs not that funny.â
âIt is,â Obi squeaks, and Mitsuhide has to shove his last bite of omelette into his mouth to stifle his own noises. Itâs no good-- Zen whips around and gives him the same glare heâs been saving for Obi.
âIf you donât cut it out,â he says loftily, âIâm going to let a freshman stay in your room.â
Well, that brings Obi up. âFine,â he coughs, voice still ragged from laughing. âBut still. My hoodie.â
âThe sleeves hung over her hands! It was cute.â Zen huffs, folding his arms over his chest. âFine, if Iâm so bad, why donât you two show me how itâs done?â
Thereâs a pause, long and loaded; enough that Mitsuhide glances up from his plate to see just what tomfoolery he should brace himself to break up--
Only to find Zen staring at him.
Intellectually, Mitsuhide is aware that Zen is a Wisteria. He met him through Izana, after all; heâs been over to the manor, heâs even met their prodigal mother on one of her rare stopovers between vacations. But when he thinks of the name, itâs Izana who springs to mind, the gears churning behind his eyes.
Itâs not often that Zen reminds him of his brother; Cookieâs always said that Izana takes after their mother with that long and lean model build, while Zen has always been Kainâs child. But now, now--
He sees it, and it sends a shiver right through him.
With a quirk of his lips, Zen says, so like Izana that if he closed his eyes he wouldnât know any different, âYou first, Mitsuhide.â
Obiâs mouth curves into a leer. âYeah, Big Guy. Show us the skills that got you Ms Kiki.â
This probably isnât the time to tell them that it wasnât him who got her; Mitsuhide hadnât been trying to do anything more than be the friend she needed, to be a person she could confide in, could trust. People like that were thin on the ground for girls like her; heiress tended to make men see dollar signs instead of personality. But Kiki--
Well, she had other ideas. Ones heâd only cottoned onto when she climbed on top of him and shoved him against the couch cushions with her mouth.
âD-Donât look at me!â he manages, trying to busy himself with anything. But thereâs only a plate to be put in the sink, and a pan to be wiped. Not enough to fake a decent amount of responsibility. âIâm not--â
âAw, câmon, Big Man. Donât leave us hanging.â Obi leans back, grin so wide it practically splits his face. âLemme paint the scene. Youâre single, Doc is adorable, and sheâs waiting there--â he gestures to Zen, who flutters his eyelashes in precisely the way Shirayuki doesnât-- âfor you to make your move. Go!â
He could point out heâs not single, and that he doesnât have any plans to change that anytime soon-- but that only ends in one way: a two-pronged mockery with additional ridicule provided by the impending arrival of his better half. He could also point out that of all the people in this room, heâs the only one who hasnât wanted to date Shirayuki, but-- well, the problems with that one were obvious.
Instead, Mitsuhide takes in a deep breath, learns on the counter, and says, âWhy, Shirayuki! Youâre looking beautiful this morning. Those shorts really flatter your legs.â
There is a long silence, and then to everlasting embarrassment, they burst out laughing.
âHer shorts?â Zenâs hand is pressed to his chest, like he needs support to keep upright. âThatâs all you can think of? Her shorts?â
âWell, Obi said not to do her hair,â he protests. âComplimenting her dress seemed like low hanging fruit. I was trying to be unique.â
Obi doesnât even bother to remain horizontal, sprawling himself over the long forgotten maps. âSo you went for her legs?â
âThereâs nothing wrong with legs!â
âOh, no, of course not,â Zen sputters out in an effort to keep his mouth straight. âDefinitely a very neutral place to comment on.â
âDefinitely not known for being attached to things like asses.â Obiâs mouth twitches, as much a sign for danger as thunder rolling in the distance. âOr puss--â
âI was not trying to comment on that.â Heâd felt bad for Zen earlier, but the sentiment doesnât seem mutual. âItâs not typical, sure, but Kiki never seems to mind when I compliment--â
âKiki?â Zen squawks. âKiki?â
âWell, I think weâre all learning a little too much about Big Guy today,â Obi wheezes. âMainly that itâs Ms Kiki that chased him, and not the other way around.â
âYeah.â Zen shakes his head, long and slow and solemn, like a doctor about to give a terminal diagnosis. âNo game at all.â
Mitsuhideâs not a competitive man. Sure, he was forward on the ice, the kind of player that got sent to the box before the end of the first half and slid right into the captain spot when it was vacant. Aggression is part of the game, competition laced in every turn of his skate and lift of his stick, but thatâs a different situation, a different language--
But itâs that part of him that surges beneath his skin right now, that makes him want to saunter over and put both hands on that rickety, painted wood until it creaks. That makes him want to take a full minute to bend down, showing off every centimeter of his one-ninety plus, and ask real low if either of them has made a girl beg on their cock lately, but--
He puts it in its place. That sort of talk always sounded better en français anyway.
Zen waves his hand, slipping his pamphlets out from under Obi. âAnyway, enough messing around. Are you still making omelettes, Mitsuhide?â
âOhh, omelettes?â Obi spins to him with wide eyes. âCan I get mine with fancy ham?â
Mitsuhide blinks. âWait, arenât you going to do your take?â
âNah.â
Zen shrugs. âJokeâs over.â
âSo I just did that for no reason--?â
âI wouldnât say no reason,â Zen wheedles. âIt was very educational.â
Obi grins. âMainly about how Big Guy likes legs--â
âOh,â drawls a voice that makes his body go cold and hot at the same time. When he turns, itâs Kiki leaning against the jamb, a single elegant brow raised, excusing amusement and menace in equal measure. âAm I to take it that the show is over?â
âK-kiki,â he stammers. âHow long--?â
âHm.â She saunters over to the counter, slipping onto a stool with a casual grace that still leaves his mouth dry. âLong enough. I have to admit, I was looking forward to seeing a display of Obiâs fabled moves.â
âMs Kiki,â Obi simpers, pressing a hand to his chest. âIâd be happy to give you a personal demonstration anytime.â
Both her brows raise. âDid I say I was desperate?â
Heâs saved from Obiâs answer by Shirayuki padding into the kitchen, flushed and breathless. âOh, you were right Kiki! Everyone is already ready. Sorry to make you wait.â
Thereâs a hesitation in the air, and Mitsuhide canât figure it out, not until he sees-- sheâs wearing shorts.
Shirayuki blinks. âIs something wrong?â
âOh, I donât know,â Kiki hums, sending him a gaze so wicked it should be illegal outside the bedroom. âDo you have anything to say to her, Mitsuhide?â
âNo!â It comes out a little too harsh, a little too loud. âI mean, I, uh...like your sandals!â
âSandals,â Obi snickers, a sound thatâs only covered by Zenâs hushed, âShut up.â
âOh!â She blinks down. âThank you. I got them at Payless. I, um, donât think they make them in your size.â
âNo,â he manages mildly. âI donât imagine they would.â
âYou do look real cute, Doc,â Obi chimes in, slinking out of his seat to circle around her. âDid you dress up for today?â
Zen makes a noise, somewhere between a choke and a gasp, but even with the pink brushing her cheeks, Shirayukiâs too used to his antics to do much more than sigh.
âOf course I did, Obi.â Her fists perch high on her hips, cocked as she talks to him. âItâs the last time weâre all going to be going out together, isnât it? What could be more special than that?â
Mitsuhide may not be a competitive man, and especially isnât a malicious one, but when Obiâs jaw goes slack, the tips of his ears darkening just the slightest bit, well-- he does indulge in the slightest bit of schadenfreude.
âWell,â Zen says, a little sharp. âLetâs get going.â
âAw!â Obi whips around. âWhat about fancy ham?â
âI donât think you need--â
âOh, I havenât had breakfast either!â Shirayuki adds, eyes wide. âDo we have time?â
Zen hesitates, and then with a sigh, relents. âWeâll stop at Dunkies.â
#obiyuki#akagami no shirayukihime#snow white with the red hair#The Wide Florida Bay#modern au#my fic#ans#mitsuhide gets so few POVs in the fic I can't help but let them get away from me okay#he's a gift#the actual six flags chapters are gonna have rotating POV#and it was just supposed to START with him#but then i was like WHAT IF I INCLUDED THE SCENE FROM BEFORE THE CANON DATE#and now we are here
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