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tiriansrambles · 8 months ago

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Letters. Pt 1/???

Edwin & The Cat King

ft Charles.

spoilers mentioned. please don’t read if you have not seen dead boy detectives!!!

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Edwin isn’t entirely sure when this all began. the letters. the feeling of joy when he’d receive one from dead mail. he never thought something so small would give him so much to look forward to. even though he should be focused on cases, his mind always wondered when he’d get another letter. considering he doesn’t … have a telephone. this was the best bet for any communication.

Edwin had begun to receive letters from the cat king. he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. but he is. He was pleasantly surprised about how nice of a feeling this was. when he first got a letter from Cat King, he figured he would forget about Edwin the moment he returned to London, even after their small goodbye. He still has the Lilly, preserved and put away for safekeeping. Mostly, he doesn’t want Charles to know he kept it.

The first letter received was him asking if he was okay. It had been some time since Niko. And to be frank, he wasn’t okay. At all. Even though he knows she’s moved on now. he misses her. every day. She became a dear friend and one of the only good things that happened in Port Townsend. He missed her. Despite her bravery, she didn’t deserve to die. He wanted her here. badly. Who else could he tell about the letters? Who else could understand? But he knows, for sure, that her afterlife is pure magic. Peace. Perhaps she had reunited with her father. He hopes she’s happy, at peace. The Cat King even allowed Edwin to talk about Niko for a long while through their letters, it was nice to let it out. He still missed her though, tremendously.

Since then, they haven’t stopped writing to each other. They’ve been writing every single day for weeks on end. Between cases, he’d make the time to write something to complete the letter and send it off. He appreciates Cat King’s effort. Truly. Considering there were probably easier ways of communicating. Like a telephone, or whatever it is that the kids use nowadays. Texting and Snapchat and whatever else. He can barely register the internet. And snap chat has a ghost emoticon for its logo. offensive. what do pictures have to do with the dead?

As the letters go on, of course, there is always a flirtatious tone to them. So much so he could even read the words in his voice. Imagining him in front of him, the way he would move about. Edwin didn’t want to admit this, but he almost … /missed/ the Cat King. After taking the time to understand him, the way he behaves. they are not so different. Two lonely souls. Perhaps he found comfort in that. In him.

Edwin’s gaze follows the stroke of each letter on the page, a soft hum escaping his lips. And soon enough, he’s smiling again.

Edwin,

How are you today, handsome? I found myself bored and decided to visit the library. I know, crazy, right? What would a sexy, and powerful being like me be doing in the PortTownsend public library? Well, I remembered you talking about how reading was a good pass time. So, I figured, why not? Take a page out of Edwin Payne’s book, amirite? I don’t know how you feel about modern books as of late. But I found something rather intriguing. I think you might like this one. The Song of Achilles. Madeline Miller. Did you know they have audiobooks now, where things are read to you? But I figured you’d hate that. Too lazy for you, isn’t it?

I was thinking, as much as I love writing to you…I thought maybe we could read this together. I’m sending you the book. Let me know what you think. And maybe, just maybe you could mirror to Port Townsend. We could read and talk about it. No funny business, I promise. Cat’s honor. But yes, this is me asking you out on a date. Whether it’s friendly or romantic is up to you, you’re painfully aware of what I prefer. I’d come to you, of course, but I’m sure it would cause unnecessary drama with your bestie. Although, I love the drama. I’ll spare you the drama until you inevitably fall in love with me.

You should be receiving it soon. Let me know. Don’t keep me waiting. <3

Love,

The Cat King.

If Edwin could blush, his face would be as red as a tomato. He reads the letter, once, twice, three times. A DATE?! A date… of reading a book. Together. That was intimate. Especially to Edwin, he loved to read. To research. He has not read anything modern, though. The only other ‘person’ he shared books with was Monty. Monty… he still couldn’t believe that. He had seemed to lose interest in making any more friends or sharing things with anyone. But The Cat King is the one who reached out. As he re-reads the letter for what felt like the millionth time, he jumps at the sudden shouting.

“MAIL!!!!” Called out the delivery man. Edwin is on his feet, quietly shushing him, but thanking him nonetheless. He hands him a package. it was the book, of course. but it was wrapped neatly with a bow. the wrapping paper was an interesting shade of green with a gold bow. It seemed to be the only thing to come. , It had been such a long time since he’s received a gift. especially like this. he almost didn’t want to open it, but of course he does. and despite being quick with it, he is cautious to save the wrapping paper. He stares down at the book, a finger tracing the cover. Interesting… a modern retelling of the Trojan War? From the perspective of Patroclus? The Cat King was correct. This certainly caught his eye…

“Wait!” Edwin calls out to the delivery man before he can leave, stopping him in his tracks.

The delivery man shoots him a look, and Edwin smiles, sheepishly. “I apologize, could you just wait one moment?”

Edwin is quick to get back to his desk, setting the book down and quickly getting out parchment to respond to the Cat King.

Cat King,

I have received the book… I must say, my interest has peaked.

I would very much like to read this book with you…

Edwin hesitates, a nervous breath escaping him.

I would … enjoy this to be a date. I don’t know in what way just yet. I would like to see you. I will find time to come see you. For now, we could read and write letters back until I can mirror over. Cases always take priority, of course.

Thank you… for thinking of me. It means a lot to me.

I am looking forward to this.

Edwin.

He can tell the delivery man is getting impatient, but he gets the letter ready in the nick of time, handing it over.

“I apologize. Could you please send this…and um, perhaps when you have letters addressed to this person, could you not announce it? ”

The delivery man blinks a moment, before rolling his eyes. Perhaps he could even sense the shame Edwin felt. He was keeping this from Charles. How could he explain this to him anyhow? He would just be angry…

“Very well,” the delivery man spoke, phasing through the wall.

Edwin sighs, leaning against the desk as if the wind was knocked out of him. This was already hard enough to hide from Charles, how was he going to do this? After the confession…things were? Well, awkward wasn’t necessarily the word. They just didn’t talk about it again. Charles said they had forever to figure it out. He was right…but it was obvious. He did not feel the same. He knows he would prefer Crystal as well… if his affections are for her, then how could he keep that from him? He loved him. He just wanted him to be happy. More than anything in the world. His dearest friend. His best friend. Perhaps that is what they are destined to be. He wouldn’t have it any other way…

Even if the Cat King is still really confusing for him, he can’t lie to himself. He has grown fond. Why shouldn’t he pursue it?

Yeah. That’s exactly what he will do. If reading this book together goes well, and he truly enjoys his company? Why not.

He nods to himself, turning to look at the book on his desk. Just as he was going to reach for it, Charles’ voice snapped him to attention.

“You all right, mate? You look frazzled.” Charles asks a brow quirked in confusion.

Edwin nearly jumps out of his skin, soon taking a moment to collect himself.

“Yes. Yes, perfectly fine.” He clears his throat, soon moving his position to hide the book on his desk. As discreetly as possible, of course. He felt guilty, hiding this from Charles. But he had no way to explain this. He just knows he will be angry with him.

Another quirked brow and a chuckle escaped Charles. “You sure, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He grins.

Edwin rolls his eyes, fondly. “Ha ha. You’re hilarious, Charles Rowland.”

“Arent I just?’ Charles grins, “really, though, you good?”

Edwin nods, “im fine, yes. just lost in thought.”

That wasn’t a total lie, of course.

“Well, Crystal and i were going to watch a movie. Care to join?” Charles asked, although he already knew the answer.

“Oh… um…” god, why was he so nervous.

“I think I’ll skip this one,” Edwin chuckles, “i uh— i would like to read tonight. You two have fun, though?” He offers, a nervous grin on his lips.

Charles brow is quirked again. The way he answered was not what he expected. A rather nice answer rather than saying something silly like it was a waste of time. There was something on his mind, but he doesn’t question. For now anyway.

“Alright then, mate. you know where we’ll be. enjoy your book.” He chuckles, offering a wave as he exits the room.

Edwin’s demeanor changed when he left, turning his attention to the book.

“Yes… i think i will enjoy it.”

#ramble with me #ramble with tiri #tirians rambles #tirianswriting #dead boy detectives #edwin payne #the cat king #charles rowland #edwin x the cat king #crystal palace #i fully imagine cat king buying the book wrapping paper and bow for Edwin #I feel like he struggled wrapping that I bet it took him hours to get it perfect #he probably had some cats hold things down for him too #the man is going to be kicking his feet at the response aaaaa #this is so silly should i keep going?

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flowersforbucky · 1 month ago

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starry eyed

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: reader gets a special gift from her secret santa

warnings/tags: mostly just fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, avenger!reader, no use of y/n, one minor injury, language, kissing and some sensuality

author's note: short little feel good christmas fic! everyone is alive and happy because i say so. i originally got the idea for this fic last winter, but i hadn't got back into writing at that time. happy that i was able to put it into words finally.

my masterlist

“So, whose name did you draw?”

You shove your hand into an oven mitt, grabbing a large dish out of the oven. Everyone had been assigned to bring a different breakfast food to the Christmas morning potluck.

Sam brought chocolate chip pancakes, Steve brought a shit ton of sausage links, and Sharon brought a giant fruit platter to name a few. You figured that the easiest, cheapest way to help feed a group of a dozen people is a couple tubes of Pillsbury cinnamon rolls.

“That kinda takes the secret out of Secret Santa.”

Bucky leans on the island in the middle of the compound’s kitchen, drinking his second cup of coffee of the morning. His breakfast dish of choice? A sack of two dozen McDonald’s hash browns.

“I was just testing you,” Bucky jokes. “You passed. Do you want to know who got your name?”

“No!” You whack his stomach with the oven mitt and he feigns injury. “I do not. Have I passed all of your tests?”

“I’m proud,” Bucky says after a big gulp of coffee. “You’re stronger than Sam, at least. He’s been asking everyone who drew his name for the last week.”

You roll your eyes. “He does that every year and no one ever tells him.”

Your friends begin filing into the kitchen, everyone grabbing plates and piling them high with all of the food scattered across the island. After making your plate, you retreat to the living room and nestle yourself between Natasha and Sharon on the couch.

Everyone is so occupied with stuffing their faces that there’s hardly any conversation. You halfway pay attention to the Hallmark Christmas rom-com playing on the television as you devour a stack of pancakes and hash browns.

Truthfully, you had hoped to draw Bucky’s name from the hat. You had a gift in mind for him already, and if you’d gotten his name then it would have presented you with the perfect opportunity to give it to him without any pressure for him to give you a gift in return.

You ended up drawing Sharon's name, but you decided to get the present for Bucky, anyway – a vintage tabletop phonograph from the forties that you’d snagged for an incredible deal on eBay. You didn’t put it under the gargantuan Christmas tree with all of the other gifts. It sits in your bedroom, waiting for you to give it to him later today when you’re not surrounded by all of your close friends.

To no one’s surprise, Sam and Peter are the first people to finish eating and immediately begin handing out all of the presents under the tree. You’re still finishing up your breakfast when Peter practically throws a small box wrapped in snowmen print paper towards you.

It's addressed to you, from your Secret Santa. Right off the bat, you’re sure that the gift didn’t come from Natasha – you know how much pride that she puts into gift wrapping. Not that this gift is wrapped poorly, but compared to Natasha’s typically extravagant bows, you’re confident that she wasn't the one who wrapped this present.

You also notice that the handwriting appears to be more on the masculine side. It looks familiar, though you can’t say with confidence who it belongs to.

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Sam says loudly enough to quiet all the chatter going on. “No one would spoil my gift for me and I’m getting impatient.”

You and Bucky share a knowing glance and eye roll at his words. He sits in a recliner directly across from you, holding the gift from his own Secret Santa.

“I’ll go first,” you offer excitedly, giving the box in your lap a small shake that gives nothing away.

You carelessly tear at the wrapping paper until it’s in pieces by your feet on the floor.

“What’d you get?” Sam asks.

You don’t respond at first, taking in the packaging of the box.

A northern lights projector.

You feel warmth spread across your cheeks and you can’t help but smile down at the gift in your hands, no longer having any doubt about who this gift came from.

One Month Ago

“These Spaghettios expired a couple weeks ago. Do you think we should risk it?”

You stand in the small kitchen of the Alaskan safe house, rifling through the limited options in the pantry. Some instant oatmeal packets, a few cans of Beanee Weenees, and the aforementioned expired Spaghettios are tonight’s dinner choices.

You can’t say you’re surprised – you’ve been doing this job for a while, and poorly stocked safe houses are pretty much the standard in this line of work. It doesn't help that this is the fifth night that you and Bucky have spent in this particular safe house, and you've eaten through all of the better options at this point.

“If you want to risk getting food poisoning in addition to that sprained ankle, then you go for it. I'll be sticking to the oatmeal.” Bucky reaches around you, grabbing a packet of maple and brown sugar oatmeal from the shelf that you stand in front of.

He's right. The oatmeal is the safest option.

One more night of this, you remind yourself. Tomorrow night, you'd be back in the comfort of your room, where you can DoorDash Chinese food.

You sigh, grabbing the remaining packet of oatmeal.

“You know, I wouldn't even mind the food situation nearly as much if I could just see the lights. Five nights here and nothing,” you grumble.

It’s your first time in Alaska, and you had high hopes for being able to see the northern lights. Each night so far, after long days of recon, you’ve stayed up past the point of exhaustion checking to see if they’re visible.

So far, the weather had been nothing but rainy and dreary, making the sky close to impossible to see at night. The clouds finally let up some today, but you've still seen no hint of an aurora. Just inky blackness, a crescent moon, and a steady downpour of snow that began a few hours ago.

“You could always get one of those projectors,” he teases with a shrug. “Northern lights, galaxies, constellations… all right there on your bedroom ceiling.”

Even though he won’t say it, you know he wants to see the northern lights as badly as you do. He's made it obvious by the way he glances out the window every so often to check.

You’ve been hoping that they’d make an appearance for him as much as for yourself. He's technically seen them before – decades ago. But never as himself. Never as Bucky.

“Those are neat,” you agree glumly. “I've just always wanted to see them in person. Kinda a bucket list thing.”

Getting to witness them with him would be the cherry on top, but you don’t add that part.

Bucky insists that you sit down on the couch and ice your ankle while he prepares the instant oatmeal for the two of you. You’re too tired to protest, so you retreat to the sofa and flip through the limited number of channels on the old TV with your foot propped up.

Fucking black ice. The last day of this mission and everything had gone swimmingly up until you slipped on a patch of clear ice earlier today, twisting your ankle.

You’re just thankful that it happened in front of Bucky, and not Sam. You can only imagine the teasing that would have ensued if it had been Sam that saw you eat shit.

The two of you eat by the warmth of the dwindling fire while watching a Seinfeld re-run.

You’re over three thousand miles from New York, but it doesn’t feel like you’re far from home at all. Bucky and you have been mission partners for quite some time now, and he has a way of making you feel like you’re at home, no matter where you’re actually at. His presence is familiar and comforting – whether you’re at the compound, or in a different country, or in Alaska – the familiarity and comfort of home is there, as long as he is.

“I’m gonna go get some more wood for the fire before bed,” Bucky says when he finishes scarfing down his food. You give him a quick nod, your mouth still crammed full of oatmeal. “You stay here and try not to sprain anything else,” he teases with a glance at your foot that’s elevated on the coffee table in front of you.

You shoot him an obscene gesture once his back is to you. “You act like my leg got cut off,” you grumble as he exits the house.

No more than ten seconds pass before you hear him call your name from beyond the front door. You look over your shoulder with wide eyes and he all but sprints back into the house with an animated expression.

“What? What is it?”

“The lights. They’re visible,” he exclaims. He walks over to the couch, taking your bowl from you and sitting it on the end table next to you before you can process what’s happening. He offers his flesh hand to you in an attempt to help you up.

“Holy shit, really? You better not be messing with me.” You push yourself up off the couch, momentarily forgetting all about your ankle.

“I’m not messing with you,” he snorts. “Come see for yourself.”

Bucky wraps his arm around your waist and you throw yours over his shoulder, helping you walk to the porch without putting too much pressure on your injured foot. You lean into him, his body heat providing a nice reprieve from the night air as you step outside.

You don’t pull away, and neither does he.

Side by side, you stare up at the seemingly endless expanse of swirling rivers of blue and green. The auroral rays seem to dance across the sky, electrifying the night with the shimmering veils of color.

“Wow,” you whisper in awe. Wow doesn’t begin to cover how ethereal the phenomenon is, but you’re at a loss for words. It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

You're acutely aware of the bitter chill of the cold wind. If it weren't for the fact that Bucky feels like a personal space heater, your teeth would be chattering. But with the view before you, you find it hard to care.

“I’d give anything to be able to see this where we live,” you breathe. You glance up at him to find him already looking at you.

“Wouldn't you?” You ask him.

“I really would.”

Present Day

“Oooh,” Natasha coos beside you, snapping you out of your memory. “A northern lights projector. I wonder who that could be from.”

You can tell by her tone of voice that she knows exactly who it’s from – even if you hadn't blatantly told her about seeing the northern lights on your mission with Bucky last month, she's too smart to not be able to figure it out herself.

You playfully elbow her in the side, silencing her teasing but the smirk on her face remains.

“Thank you, Santa,” you say with a glance at Bucky. “I love it.”

The rest of your friends open their presents one by one. You try your hardest to pay attention, but all you can think about is how perfect you think the gift that Bucky picked out for you is. He could have just given you a gift card, or a generic gag gift, but what he gave you is personal, and sentimental, and thoughtful.

When all of the Christmas morning festivities have come to an end, you retreat back to your bedroom with your presents. Despite getting many great gifts from your friends, the one from your Secret Santa is by far your favorite.

You unbox the projector and set it up on your nightstand before plugging it in. As soon as you press the power button, the ceiling of your room is covered in shades of blue and green that mimic the natural hues of the northern lights that you had witnessed first hand just a month prior.

You flick your light switch off, making it easier to envision yourself standing under the Alaska sky. Of course, there’s nothing like seeing the real thing, but it’s still pretty, and the meaning behind the gift is what makes you happier than anything.

Smiling to yourself beneath the undulating ribbons of turquoise and emerald, you can’t help but replay the memory of standing under the aurora with Bucky.

How he got so excited when he went outside and realized the lights were visible, the contrast of his warm body against the cold night air as he helped you stand on your hurt foot, and the way that he was smiling at you instead of taking in the scene before him –

Your phone chimes from your back pocket, drawing you back to reality.

A projection probably doesn’t really compare to the real thing, huh?

You smile at your phone, sitting down on your bed. You think of how you should respond when you remember the present you bought for Bucky that sits in your closet.

Come and see for yourself, you respond.

With his room being just a short distance down the hallway, it’s only a few moments before you hear a soft knock against your door.

“Come in,” you say softly.

You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of nerves, and you tell yourself it’s because you’re antsy about giving him the present you'd picked out for him.

Bucky eases into the room, closing the door behind him. He takes in the display across your ceiling with his hands shoved in his pockets – a nervous habit of his that you’ve noticed many times before, though you can’t pinpoint why he’d be nervous right now.

“Pretty cool,” he admits. He takes a seat in front of you on the edge of your bed and finally meets your gaze. “Can’t say it quite compares to the real thing, but at least it’s a whole lot warmer here.”

“The food is considerably better here, too,” you joke. “But really, thank you. It’s definitely the best Secret Santa gift I’ve ever received,” you add, cringing when you remember the toilet shaped coffee mug that Sam had gotten you two years ago.

You use it regularly, of course. But you like Bucky’s gift far more.

“And I got you a present, too,” you add in a small voice before you can chicken out. “I know I wasn’t your Secret Santa, so I hope you don’t think it’s weird. It’s okay if you don’t like—”

“Can I tell you something?” He interrupts you. He’s grinning big – the kind of grin that brings out the lines around his eyes. You snap your mouth shut and answer with a quick nod.

“I wasn’t your Secret Santa originally,” he sighs. “Natasha was. But I convinced her to switch names with me.”

“But why—”

“I got your present as soon as we got back from Alaska, but then I started overthinking it… just thought it would be easier to give it to you if I had the excuse of being your Secret Santa,” he shrugs.

You’re momentarily stunned. It dawns on you – he’d been worried about the exact thing you had. You’d been so worried about him being weirded out by you getting him a gift that you waited until you were alone to give it to him, and he’d been so worried about getting you a gift that he convinced someone else to let him have your name in Secret Santa.

How silly of both of you, you think.

He sits by you on your bed, waiting for your response with a patient, albeit uncertain expression. Your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips.

It had been a fleeting thought when you stared into his eyes under the colorful Alaskan sky – how beautiful it would be to kiss someone under such a serene and mesmerizing sky. How beautiful it would be to kiss him, here. It was a thought that you shoved down, out of fear for crossing a line and making yourself look like an idiot.

It's a thought that is once again at the forefront of your mind, sitting beside him in your bedroom under the imitation aurora.

Under the true northern lights, or under your bedroom ceiling in New York – it doesn’t matter. You think kissing him would be beautiful anywhere.

And so you do.

Or he does – you’re not actually sure who leans forward first. But you are sure that he still tastes faintly of maple syrup and coffee from breakfast, and that when he cups your face in his flesh hand and tilts it to give him a better angle to sweep his tongue along your bottom lip, your brain turns to static white noise.

You let him set the pace – it’s slow and soft, like he’s trying to memorize the map that his tongue draws inside your mouth. You place one of your hands on the back of his neck, intertwining your fingers in the short tufts of hair.

Still holding your face in his hand, he pulls away with a gentle tug of your bottom lip between his teeth and looks at you in the blue-green glow of the projector’s illumination.

“Was that my present?” he smiles, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. You laugh, reeling in the afterglow of the kiss.

You drop your hand from his neck, and hold up a singular finger to him, indicating for him to give you a moment. You walk over to your closet, retrieving the large gift bag containing the phonograph.

When you walk back over to your bed, you turn on your bedside table lamp for a bit more light before handing him the bag.

He smiles, blushing faintly as he pulls the tissue paper out of the gift bag. He eases the package out of the bag slowly, as if he’s scared the contents will break. You watch as he takes his time with the unboxing, now feeling a fresh wave of nervousness at the anticipation of him seeing the gift.

His smile only grows once he realizes what it is.

“My ma used to have one just like this,” he murmurs in awe. He grabs your hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Thank you. It's perfect.”

He turns to place it behind him on your mattress before pulling your face to his once more. It’s shorter than the kiss before, but just as tender and sweet.

“But just so you know, you could have just given me a kiss, and I would’ve been just as thrilled.”

••••••

thanks for reading!! i had fun writing this cute little piece ♡

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #christmas fic #fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem reader

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