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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

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The Switch

Day 10, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: The Switch

Author: adenei

Pairing: George Weasley/Angelina Johnson

Prompt: First Date

Rating: T

TW: Mentions of character death

***********

The shop is quiet as George locks the door to his office. It’s been a month since the grand re-opening of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and the steady thrum of customers has put the business back on track to where it was before the untimely closure due to the war. Things are different, of course, with Fred not being there, but George’s family and friends have stepped up and offered more support than George knows what to do with—not that he wanted it in the first place.

In retrospect, he is thankful for his family and friends, Ron and Angelina in particular. They helped him put down the bottle and get his life back on track.

“Fred wouldn’t want this.” Angelina had told him late one night while she and Lee were staying over in his flat that smelled of days-old Firewhisky and hadn’t been cleaned since before they’d gone into hiding at Aunt Muriel’s.

“How would Fred feel if you let everything the two of you worked for go to shit? How would you feel if the tables were turned and if it was—” Ron had yelled as he snatched the half-full bottle away from his brother and dumped it down the drain. The emotion was raw as the words caught in his throat, the end of the phrase hanging between them like the weight of a bludger pulling them down and grounding them.

At first, he’d been pissed, but they were right. Fred wouldn’t have wanted George to resort to any of that. And even though he’d been begrudging in accepting help to begin with, George knew he wouldn’t have gotten the shop up and running as swiftly as he did without everyone’s help. The hole in his heart still ached, and not a moment went by where he didn’t miss his brother, but finding a new stride in this post-war life is exactly the push George needed to not only move on but also honor and make Fred proud.

As George makes his way onto the main floor of the shop, a figure standing behind the counter makes him pause. He’d recognize that silhouette anywhere, the unrequited crush from his Hogwarts days now thrust back in his life, as if to taunt him of just another thing he’ll never have.

“You’re still here?” The exhaustion is apparent in George’s voice after a ten-hour day.

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure you didn’t stay on and try to do all the inventory yourself again like last week.” Angelina runs her fingers over the various displays of fireworks that are locked away behind the checkout area as she lightly teases George.

“Nah, I learned from that mistake. Besides, don’t you have your regular job that you need to get back to? Now that things are running smoothly again, we’ll be able to manage without the extra help. Especially once things die down after the first.”

“I don’t mind spending a few hours here after work, you know that. Things’ll start to pick up again soon once the Quidditch season gets underway, I’m sure, but right now, my corresponding duties are light. Call me crazy, but I’ve enjoyed spending more time with you lately. Almost makes me feel like we’re back in Hogwarts, you know? When real life and responsibilities seemed so far away.”

A chuckle escapes George’s lips. It was true, all this time they’d been spending together, especially with Lee and sometimes Alicia, almost made everything feel right again.

“Well, we can hang out in other places, too. I swear I don’t live at Wheeze’s.”

“George, you live upstairs.”

“Ah, bugger off.”

“I’m only teasing.”

“And all I’m saying is if you want to do something outside these walls, all you have to do is ask.”

“Are you hungry, then?”

A genuine laugh bubbles up into George’s throat at Angelina’s brazenness. “Bloody hell, woman! Impatient much?”

His outburst brings a smile to Angelina’s face, brightening the dark circles under her eyes from the extra hours spent helping out.

“You’re the one who said to ask. So, what do you say? Fancy a drink and a meal down the street? It’s late enough that the Leaky shouldn’t be too busy.”

“I s’pose it couldn’t hurt. Beats making something for myself, that’s for sure.”

“Great, let’s go.”

Angelina walks around the counter and reaches out to take George’s hand in hers. An electric shock shoots up his arm from the point of contact, and George has to stop himself from pulling away from the surprise of it all. A memory flashes through his mind of twinkling lights amongst a silver backdrop in the Great Hall all those years ago. He sees two figures dancing and twirling to the music of the Weird Sisters, one with flaming red hair much like his own and the other whose sapphire gown swished against the travertine floor. The memory brings a reminiscent smile to his lips as Angelina tugs him out the door.

When they reach the Leaky, the pair settles into a quiet booth in the back of the establishment, away from curious eyes. It’s late in the evening for a meal, which is made evident by the empty tables and chairs scattered throughout the pub. Only a handful of patrons litter the bar, allowing Tom to be attentive to their needs.

George takes a large swig when the barkeep returns with Butterbeers, and they place their orders.

“No shot of Firewhisky tonight then?”

George shakes his head. “I told you, Ange, I was serious about stopping. I can’t use the bottle as a crutch for grief anymore.”

Angelina nods as she observes him intently. George can feel the heat of her gaze trailing over him as he takes another sip from his drink.

“You’re staring.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Oh? And here I was thinking I was mesmerizing you with my dashing good looks,” George quips.

Angelina smiles, and for a moment, George thinks he sees a blush on her cheeks before she recovers. For all the time they spent together during Hogwarts, and more recently in the months following the war, George finds it odd that they’re struggling with conversation now.

“Knut for your thoughts?” asks George.

“Just that it’s been nice reconnecting with you. And Lee. Circumstances are shit, of course, but with my hectic schedule during Quidditch season, I don’t get much time for socializing and friends. I even had to drop my registration for the semi-pro league I was hoping to play for.”

George nods, and his stomach twists as he processes her words. That would mean she’d be leaving soon once things got busy. He’s overcome with the urge to see if her job is something she’s passionate about.

“Do you love it? Your job, I mean.”

“Well, yeah, if I can’t play professionally, the next best thing is writing and commentating. Plus, I’ve gotten to see the world all on the Ministry’s dime. Can’t complain there…”

“But is it something you see yourself doing for a long time?” George presses. He doesn’t mean to sound judgmental, but he needs to know if it’s even worth it to pursue.

“Well, after graduation, it seemed like the right fit. The opening was there, my parents were encouraging me to see the world, and I didn’t have anything tying me down. Honestly, I think my parents thought it was safer for me to travel, especially with the war on...”

And what about now?

George is nodding his head up and down while the question ricochets in his mind. He opens his mouth, gathering the courage to allow the four words to escape his mouth when Angelina interrupts him.

“Well, there are some openings that would allow me to stay in London that have just come up. They’re looking for commentators and stats writers for the matches played in the Kensington stadium. So, if you needed an extra hand at the shop, I could stay—”

“—I don’t want you to stay for the shop. If you want to travel the world, you should. I doubt you’ve seen all the world has to offer in two seasons.”

No! What are you thinking!

George can almost hear Fred chastising him for his rash response. It doesn’t come out the way he meant it to sound, and he knows he messed up given the crestfallen look on Ange’s face.

“I only meant—”

“I-I’ve actually already put in for the London job, George. And I promise it’s not because of the shop. Lee promised to help me with commentating, and this way I can play again. I start training next week. You know how much I missed playing Quidditch, and now that England is safer, I can stay and have the best of both worlds.”

The longer she goes on, it feels like she’s rambling and going on with a laundry list of pre-prepared reasons, which doesn’t sound like the Angelina he knows. It’s almost like she’s trying to convince herself that those are the reasons she’s staying, and not for anything else.

“Oh.”

Ange rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, I know you and Fred always used to think you two were the center of the universe, but I promise I didn’t choose to stay just for you.”

Her voice is light, and she’s smiling, but George can’t help but sense something else lingering beneath the surface. Disappointment, perhaps? Or maybe he’s just reading into things too much. Hoping something might be between them that really isn’t. He forces himself to stop overthinking and simply enjoy her company instead.

“Well, I, for one, am happy you’re staying. We’ll be able to get together more often, and it’ll almost feel like our Hogwarts days. Maybe I’ll even be able to convince you and Alicia to test new products again.”

Angelina nearly spits out her Butterbeer at George’s joke as Tom approaches with their meal. He knows he’s not fooling either of them; the irony is that the girls were always two steps ahead of him and his brother. They were the only two in their year who managed to avoid becoming test subjects to all of their prototypes.

The two fall into more reminiscing as they tuck into their fish and chips. George doesn’t realize how ravenous he is until he starts eating, and he’s even more grateful for Ange’s suggestion now.

As they are polishing off the remainder of their baskets, the topic of conversation falls on the Yule Ball, as Ange remembers how Fred had tossed the wad of paper at her.

“It was romantic, wasn’t it?” George jokes as he remembers his brother’s ridiculous attempt at asking a girl out. “Still don’t know why you said yes to that tosser.”

To this day, he’d always resented his brother for drawing his wand first and asking Ange to the ball. Of course, George knew it was all meant to be a bluff. It was Fred’s attempt to get his brother to buck up the courage and ask Angelina for himself.

George remembers it vividly. “Just ask her. What’s the worst she’ll say? No? Fine, if you won’t do it, I will.”

When Fred had gotten Ange’s attention, George had no idea what to expect. They were usually well in tune with each other, and George could anticipate Fred’s moves, but when his brother had asked Angelina himself, it took George by surprise.

“We were getting down to the wire, weren’t we?” Angelina interrupts George’s thoughts. “No one else had asked me, so I figured it was better to go with one twin than none at all.”

George chooses the wrong moment to polish off the last of his chips. The fried potato catches in his throat, and he coughs it up, all while reaching for the last dredges of his Butterbeer to clear things out.

Did she just say it was better to go with one twin than none at all? But then that would mean…

“Ange, don’t tell me you were waiting for me to ask you.”

She shrugs and averts her eyes from his gaze. “I mean, I wouldn’t have been disappointed if you’d asked, let’s put it that way.”

After this revelation, George burst into laughter. To anyone else in the near vicinity, it probably sounded like he should be admitted to the Janus Thickney Ward. He hasn’t laughed this hard since he and Fred were able to pull off a prank on Muriel shortly after arriving at her Manor at the end of March.

“You—Fred—I—me—” He can’t seem to formulate a coherent string of thoughts until Angelina goes from amused to offended.

“Honestly, George, I didn’t realize it was that funny. Forget I said anything.” She checks her watch and gathers her bag. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. It’s getting late, and clearly the thought of the two of us together appalls—”

She’s in the process of standing up when George sobers from the onslaught of irony and reaches out to grab her wrist.

“Ange, wait. I’m not laughing at that. Just—just give me a chance to explain, yeah?” He pulls her into the bench beside him, where she lands on her bottom harder than she needed to as she lets out a loud huff of indignation.

“Fred never intended to go with you when he asked.”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have raised so high on her face that George is surprised they haven’t gotten lost in her braids.

“No, what I mean is, he’d been pestering me to ask you since the ball was announced. He knew I had a thing for you—obviously—and was being supportive.”

It felt weird for George to admit that he fancied Angelina in school now, after so many years of keeping it close to his chest. Fred and Lee were the only two who ever knew.

“So, what are you trying to say, then?”

“When Fred asked you...I was shocked, too. I didn’t realize he’d already devised a plan that I didn’t cotton on to right away.”

The look on Angelina’s face transformed from defensive to shock to comprehension, all in the span of a few seconds. “Don’t tell me…”

“Being an identical twin has—er, had—its benefits.”

“So.. are you trying to tell me that I didn’t go to the ball with Fred?”

“Nope.”

“And at the end of the night, when I kissed Fred in an attempt to make you jealous, I was actually kissing you all along?”

“Sorry if it was disappointing.” The wisecrack escapes George’s lips before he can stop it.

Half of him is expecting Angelina to slap him for the ‘switcheroo’ that he and Fred pulled, and in fairness, they deserved it. What if Ange actually had fancied Fred, and they’d pulled one over on her?

But to his surprise, Angelina does the opposite. She leans in and kisses George right then and there. The same shock he felt when holding her hand earlier ignites within him once more as he lets his body take control. He allows himself to get lost in the feel of her lips, realizing that it’s the first time he’s truly felt like himself since Fred’s passing. He even dares to let himself think he’s found happiness again.

Eventually, George pulls away as his lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen. They remain close, foreheads touching as he offers a weak smile.

“Y’know, I was going to tell you it was me at the end of the night, but how could I when I thought I was going to break your heart when you thought you’d kissed Fred?”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you can’t argue with sixteen-year-old George’s logic, can you?”

Ange rolls her eyes and leans back. George misses the contact as soon as it’s gone.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Ange raises her eyebrows in question as if tempting him to follow when she scoots out from the bench a second time.

George pulls enough money to cover their meals out of his wallet and leaves it on the table before scooching out behind her. He pays no mind to the remaining customers as he pulls Angelina back into him and whispers in her ear,

“I’d say we’ve wasted five years of pointless pining to wait any longer.”

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #george x angelina #tw: mentions of death

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shini--chan · 4 years ago

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I have an idea! What would Allies do after finding out that their s/o have (another) stalker? It can be another yandere, a creep, ex, jealous coworker with bad intentions or even a serial killer.

And a good idea it is, my dear anon.

Yandere Allies – Feindling America

You were already fast asleep, snoozing away under the covers in your shared bedroom. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and had decided to settle down in the living room to do some light reading. His insomnia was due to the usual reasons – too much caffeine, too much stress, too much curiosity to just let the day finish.

And because he was worried, intently, about you. There was somebody else trying to stick their grubby fingers in your shared life, and pry you apart. That was something he was absolutely sure off. After living so long, and becoming paranoid due to his position on the global stage, he knew very well when he was being watched.

There was something after you in particular, he didn’t like it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of somebody moving in the bushes. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body, and for a moment he was tempted to storm about side and give that creep a hook. Yet a better idea came to mind – first to fire a warning shot.

He net his book aside and sauntered to one of the glass door to the balcony and gave the pane a few sharp knocks. It was enough to catch their attention. It was almost comical how the figure froze, and the hood swivelled in his direction. Alfred couldn’t identify them in any capacity – they wore non-script jeans and a grey hoodie along with a pair of gloves. But this was about digging up the war axe.

Grinning, he flipped the bird at them, and then proceeded to draw a thin line across his throat in an unmistakable message.

Alfred would see this as a chance to play hero. He would finally be able to prove to you how capable he is at protecting you, how attentive he would be when it would water down to your safety. Of course, he would make sure there would be a lot he wouldn’t catch wind off – it would be the instances where he would come off as an evil master mind or as a control freak that he would skilfully hide from you.

He might or might not elect to torture the fool that would be stalking you. For him, waterboarding that creep would be a method of stress relief. It would also drive home the point that nobody should dare try to get between him and his sweetie.

Canada

Besides you, your phone beeped for what must have been the twelfth time in the span of one minute. You sobbed harder and buried your face in his chest. Matthew calmly stroked your back, making quiet soothing noises as he held you close.

“(Ex) will have to leave you be someday. This can’t go on forever. One day that jerk will have to accept that you’re gone for good”, he told quietly, while cautiously shifting his position to a more comfortable one.

You were both on the backseat of his car, having sought sanctuary there after you started panicking upon seeing the messages. All the memories had started to overwhelm you, and you had gripped his arm as if it was the only thing that was preventing you from drowning.

“No, that won’t be the case. Before I met you, I tried to leave so often only to be lured back into it. It was only because I met you that I haven’t gone back”, you cried, gazing up at him with a tear-stricken face.

“Shh, I will think of something. There shall be hell to pay.”

Matthew would be concerned about your wellbeing first and foremost. He would cater to you, cuddle with you, sooth you. But don’t think that would mean he would go easy on you should you step out of line and try to flee from him. When he would say he would never let your ex take you back, he would be indirectly saying he would never allow you to leave him.

Naturally, he would be careful and avoid any explicit rhetoric stating that your place in the world is at his side, but the message would be there, hidden between the lines.

With the legal sway he would hold, he would easily have your ex punished in some capacity. This could range from a fine to a restrain order to spending some time in jail.

China

A scream pierced the silence of the night, followed by a yell as the attacker was swept off his feet. Yao didn’t hesitate to continue beating the culprit up, even though he was on the ground.

After all, this was a man that had just been a few milliseconds away from dragging you away and murdering you, after doing unspeakable things to you, things that couldn’t be lightly talked about in any context.

“So, you’re the vermin that has been butchering people left and right for the past four months. You’re just as disgusting as I expected”, Yao commented as he brought his foot down on his back in a harsh stamp.

You had taken seat on a tree stump that was standing by. The near death experience and the fight going on in front of you had utterly rattled you. You were numbly staring at the scene playing out, heads in your hands, whole body trembling and eyes wide blown.

He kicked the killer in the side and was rewarded was a grunt and a hiss: “And I’ll fucking kill you too.”

“Sure you will”, Yao drawled sarcastically and pressed the criminals head into the dirt. “Get used to the taste of it.”

Contrary to expectations, Yao would approach the situation of serial killer being after you calmy. Not because he wouldn’t care about you, but rather because he would be far to old to be surprised by such a – in his eyes – trivial thing. And because he would know that letting himself drown in anger or panic would just result in him making grave mistakes – ie. losing you.

Nevertheless, he would never be far off, lurking behind corners, just out of sight of you and the murderer. He would also scoure your online activity, searching for any suspicious doings from other users. Furthermore he would use the opportunity to learn more about you and your strengths and weaknesses.

England

“Ah, ah, ah. Keep your dirty paws off that”, Arthur chided Jane and firmly grabbed Jane by the ear, harshly tugging there. It wasn’t the most humane treatment of a mortal, that England knew very well. However, he was in a sour mood, your infuriating co-worker being one of the contributing factors to it. Besides, he hadn’t made it one of his life maximas to be nice.

“You dare”, she hissed. When he gave another sharp tug, she yelped and dropped your phone, showing one of your social media profiles. Jane Smithers was persistent, he would have to give her that. Yet that would just be her downfall because she had decided to use that trait to try to ruin your life.

“Oh yes I dare. I dare to not tolerate your disgusting behaviour. Between you and me, we’re going to have a very long talk about your morals.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I could sue you for sexual harassment. We’ll see if you’ll still be laughing then.”

Oh, he had expected such a threat to come from such a vile person as her. He chuckled lowly – did she really think she could best him when it came to anything.

“And then spend some time in the nick for lying to judge and jury. Don’t think you’d be able to weasel your way out of this. I’m the one here that can have your framed and believe me, I could get you a bloody life sentence.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, before realisation dawned and she let out a harsh laugh.

“So that is how (l/n) did it. Slept the way to the top.”

“No. (Y/n) has talent, impeccable talent. So unlike you, my dearest never had to resort to the methods you were so kind to mentioned.”

Arthur would see it as his duty to protect you – your physical & mental wellbeing as well as your reputation. So of course he would go after any jealous co-worker that would try to ruin you to any extent. And as mentioned in the snippet above, he wouldn’t be exactly nice about it. Any means would do for him, as long as the risk of his machinations backfiring on him and you would be relatively low.

During the whole process, he would letting you know about everything. It would be his point of proving that the world is a horrible place and that you can only find solace in his company and attention.

France

Francis was in the kitchen when you came stumbling in, frazzled and panting as If you had just run a marathon. By the way your extremities were trembling and sweat dotted your forehead, he wouldn’t be surprised. The only question was why.

Aside from that, fear danced in your eyes, and that was the only further information he needed to know that something was wrong. Rushing forward, he scooped you in his arms, ignoring the coffee that he had been preparing, and asked you:

“What happened, ma cherie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking heavy, laboured breaths, as if you were crying. That was when he realised that you were. It worried him.

Was this something that he had done? What had caused you to become so distressed? Was it something he could fix.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to”, he offered shakily, unsure about what he should do to cheer you up. How could he, when he didn’t know why you were in such a state?

Thankfully, you supplied him with an explanation, one that caused his concern to freeze to ice cold anger: “There is some creep following me. He grabbed my butt when I got off the bus.”

Whoever that devil was, he was going to have hell to pay,

Francis would be enraged that somebody would be so disrespectful of your boundaries and of the fact that you’re already taken. In the brief moments of his more intense bouts of fury, he might do something as rash as to track the creep down and bludgeon him with something, probably a newspaper.

However, his preferred method would be character assassination (this would work especially well if the culprit in question would have a high social status) and verbal abuse. In this case, his revenge could be long-winded and very elaborate.

Russia

The temperature of the corridor had dropped since the last time he had visited – a testimony to the bad insulation and the approaching winter. Ivan thought it did her justice. After all, she did deserve this after nearly kidnapping you.

Speaking of her, she was sitting near the bars when he approached and when she glimpsed him, she quickly scooted away. Clever; she had learned from what had occurred the last time.

“Come to taunt me again?”, she seethed, curling into a tight, haggard ball of fury. Understandable in her case, however he wouldn’t shed any tears or have any sleepless nights.

“As is customary. I have to elevate your boredom somehow”, he confirmed, grabbing a chair and seating himself opposite her.

She stared at the door at the end of the passage, hungerly tracing it and searching the shadows for any sign of you. Ivan derived pleasure from mocking her: “How foolish are to think I would have brought my lover with me? I didn’t the last few times so why should it any different now?”

“You’re so very attached to (y/n), so I had my hopes.”

“Then I’ll have to forever dash them. That I owe you.”

She snarled at this; face twisted to a nasty frown.

“You know, you and I aren’t so different. So it is even more hypocritical of you to claim the moral high ground. Does (y/n) know even half of the things you’ve done in the name of your love?”

“I detest the comparison. I walk free while you rot in solitude, unloved and unwanted. While you have done everything wrong, I have done what was right where it counted most. You go very far by suggesting anything else.”

Russia would be the one to act the most intense of all the allies. He would have had people that were dear to him ripped away from him in the past, so he invest a lot of energy in insuring that wouldn’t happen to you and him.

That would mean he would go up to 11 in this case. As in, he would either kill this person and dissolve their body in acid or feed it to the pigs. Or he would leave this other yandere to rot somewhere after having dragged them before court for a very showy trail to break their spirit.

#yandere hetalia #yandere allies #yandere america #yandere england #yandere russia #yandere canada #yandere china #yandere france

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cappymightwrite · 3 years ago

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Jon Snow, Manfred & The Byronic Hero: Part 2

Previous Posts: PART 1

Hopefully Part 1 served as a good introduction on the topic and characteristics of the Byronic Hero, as well as how Jon Snow in particular is likely an iteration of this figure. But now we come to the real meat of this meta series — a closer look at Byron's dramatic poem Manfred (1816–1817), and more importantly, its titular character in comparison to Jon Snow. I was originally going to do an analysis and comparison of two key episodes in Manfred and A Storm of Swords, Jon VI, but have since decided to give that its own post... that's right kids, there will be a part 3!

(Detail from Lord Byron, Thomas Phillips, 1813)

So... why Manfred? Why not Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, or The Corsair, or Don Juan, or any other work by Lord Byron? Well, I'll tell you why, my sweet summer children. It's because of THIS:

Manfred/Manfryds and Byrons in ASOIAF, by order of first appearance and publication:

Ser Manfred Swann (ASOS, Jaime VIII)

Ser Manfred Dondarrion (The Hedge Knight)

Manfred Lothston (The Sworn Sword)

Manfryd o' the Black Hood (AFFC, Brienne I)

Manfryd Yew (AFFC, Jaime V)

Ser Byron the Beautiful (AFFC, Alayne II, TWOW, Alayne I)

Ser Byron Swann (ADWD, Tyrion III)

Manfryd Merlyn of Kite (ADWD, Victarion I)

Manfryd Mooton, Lord of Maidenpool (The Princess and the Queen, TWOIAF)

Manfred Hightower, Lord of the Hightower (TWOIAF)

Manfred Hightower, Lord of the Hightower (Fire and Blood)

Like... what the hell, George?

I find this very interesting, very interesting indeed! *cough* intentional, very intentional *cough* And I have to thank @agentrouka-blog for reminding me of the existence of these Manfreds/Manfryds, and thus pointing me in this particular direction. This evidence is, for me, my smoking gun, it's why I feel justified in exploring this specific work. In my opinion, it really strongly confirms that GRRM is aware of Manfred, he is aware of its author — as a literary name, it is pretty much exclusively connected to Byron, it's like Hamlet to Shakespeare, or Heathcliff to Emily Brontë. In fact, GRRM likes it enough to use this name several times in fact, its frequency of use aided by a slight variation on its spelling.

So, as we can see, there are a striking number of Manfred/Manfryds (9!!) featured in the ASOIAF universe, whereas Byron (2) is used a bit more sparingly — perhaps because the latter, if more liberally used, would become far more recognisable as an overt literary reference? Interestingly, though, we can see a direct link between the two names as both bear the surname Swann: Ser Manfred Swann and Ser Byron Swann (note the exact spelling of Manfred here, as opposed to Manfryd). Ser Byron was alive during the Dance of Dragons and died trying to kill the dragon Syrax, whereas Ser Manfred was alive during Aegon V's reign and had a young Ser Barristan as his squire. So, in terms of ancestry, Byron came before Manfred, which makes sense since Lord Byron created the character of Manfred; he is his authorial/literary progenitor, if you will.

But why Swann, though? Is there any significance to that surname? Well, I did a little bit of digging and turned up something very interesting, at least in my opinion. In Percy Bysshe Shelley's poem Lines written among the Euganean Hills (1818), in its sixth stanza, the poet addresses the city of Venice... the “tempest-cleaving Swan” in the eighth line is clearly meant to be his friend and contemporary, Lord Byron, that city’s most famous expatriate:

That a tempest-cleaving Swan Of the songs of Albion, Driven from his ancestral streams By the might of evil dreams, Found a nest in thee;

(st. 6, l. 8-12)

Ah ha! But let's not forget that the Swanns are also a house from the stormlands — stormlander Swanns vs. "tempest-cleaving Swan." It seems a nice little homage, doesn't it? You could also argue that the battling swans of House Swann's sigil are a possible reference to Byron's fondness for boxing (he apparently received "pugilistic tuition" at a club in Bond Street, London). But to make the references to Byron too overt would ruin the subtly, so it isn't necessary, in my opinion, for the Swanns to be completely steeped in Byronisms.

All in all, it would be very neat of GRRM if the reasoning behind Byron and Manfred Swann is because of this reference to Lord Byron by Shelley. How these names and the characters that bear them might further reference Byron and Manfred is a possible discussion for another day! It's all just very interesting, very noteworthy, and highlights how careful GRRM is at choosing the names of his characters, even very minor, seemingly insignificant ones.

(Illustration of Villa Diodati from Finden's Illustrations of the Life and Works of Lord Byron, Edward Finden, 1833)

Now onto the actual poem, and the ways in which Jon Snow could being referencing/paralleling Manfred. First things first, a bit of biographical context. Take my hand, and let's travel back in time, way back when, to 1816, the year in which Lord Byron left England forever, his reputation in tatters due to the collapse of his marriage and the rumours of an affair with his half-sister, Augusta Leigh (plus he was hugely in debt). No doubt, most of us are familiar with the story, but in 1816 Byron travelled to Switzerland, to a villa on Lake Geneva, where he met the Shelleys and suggested that they all pass the time by writing ghost stories.

The most famous story produced by them was, of course, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1818) — which may have served as the partial inspiration behind Qyburn and Robert Strong! Byron himself did begin a story but soon gave it up (yesss, we love an unproductive king); it was completed, however, by his personal physician, John William Polidori, and eventually published, under Byron's name, as The Vampyre (1819). But Byron didn't completely abandon the ghost story project, as later that summer, after a visit by the Gothic novelist M. G. Lewis, he wrote his "supernatural" tragedy, Manfred (1817).*

*I've seen it dated as 1816-17, but the crucial thing to rememeber, in terms of Byron's own biography, is that unlike The Bride of Abydos, he wrote it after his departure from England... this theme of exile will come up later.

Manfred is what is called a "closet drama", so is structured much like a play, with acts and scenes, though it wouldn't have actually been intended to be performed on stage. Indeed, Lord Byron first described Manfred to his publisher as "a kind of poem in dialogue... but of a very wild—metaphysical—and inexplicable kind": "Almost all the persons—but two or three—are Spirits... the hero [is] a kind of magician who is tormented by a species of remorse—the cause of which is left half unexplained—he wanders about invoking these spirits—which appear to him—& are of no use—he at last goes to the very abode of the Evil principle in propria persona [i.e. in person]—to evocate a ghost—which appears—& gives him an ambiguous & disagreeable answer..."*

*As in Part 1, more academic references will be listed in a bibliography at the end of this post.

To sum up the narrative for you, Manfred is a nobleman living in the Bernese Alps, "tormented by a species of remorse", which is never fully explained, but is clearly connected to the death of his beloved Astarte. Through his mastery of poetic language and spell-casting, he is able to summon seven "spirits", from whom he seeks the gift of forgetfulness, but this plea cannot be granted — he cannot escape from his past. He is also prevented from escaping his mysterious guilt by taking his own life, but in the end, Manfred does die, thus defying religious temptations of redemption from sin. He therefore stands outside of societal expectations, a Romantic rebel who succeeds in challenging all of the authoritative powers he faces, ultimately choosing death over submission to the powerful spirits.

According to Lara Assaad, the character of Manfred is the "Byronic hero par excellence", as he shares its typical characteristics found in Byron's other work (as discussed in Part 1), "yet pushed to the extreme." As noted above, there is a defiance to Manfred's character, which is arguable also found in Jon. Certainly though, in all of Byron's works, the Byronic Hero appears as "a negative Romantic protagonist" to a certain extent, a being who is "filled with guilt, despair, and cosmic and social alienation," observes James B. Twitchell. I'll come back to those characteristics presently.

As noted by Assaad, "Byron scholars seem to agree on this definition of the Byronic Hero, however they focus mainly, if not exclusively, on the dynamics of guilt and remorse." Indeed, it is only in more recent years that the incest motif, as well as the influence of Byron's own biography, have been more widely discussed. But perhaps the most compelling aspect of the Byronic Hero is his complex psychology. Although trauma theory only really started to flourish during the 1990s, thus providing deeper insight into the symptoms that follow a traumatic experience, it nevertheless seems, at least to Assaad, that "Byron was familiar with it well before it was first discussed by professionals and diagnosed." As we know, GRRM began writing his series, A Song of Ice and Fire, during the 1990s, and character trauma and its effects feature heavily in his work, most notably in the case of Theon Greyjoy, but also in the memory editing of Sansa Stark in terms of the infamous "Unkiss".*

*The editing, or supressing, of memories is not exclusive to Sansa, however. E.g @agentrouka-blog has theorised a possible memory edit with regards to Tyrion and his first wife Tysha.

But if we return back to that original quote, in which GRRM makes the comparison between Jon and the Byronic Hero, his following statement is also very interesting:

The character I’m probably most like in real life is Samwell Tarly. Good old Sam. And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Theon [Greyjoy] is the one I’d fear becoming. Theon wants to be Jon Snow, but he can’t do it. He keeps making the wrong decisions. He keeps giving into his own selfish, worst impulses. [source]

As noted by @princess-in-a-tower, there is a close correspondence between Jon and Theon, with each acting as the other's foil in many respects. In fact, Theon does sort of tick off a few of the Byronic qualities I discussed last time, most notably standing apart from society, that "society" being the Starks in Winterfell, due to him essentially being a hostage. Later on, we see him develop a sense of deep misery as well due to his horrific treatment at the hands of Ramsey Snow. Like Theon, his narrative foil, Jon is also a character deeply informed by trauma (being raised a bastard), but the way they ultimately process and express that specific displacement trauma differs profoundly — Theon expresses it outwardly through his sacking of Winterfell, whereas Jon turns his trauma notably inwards.*

*Obviously, I'm not a medical professional — I'm more looking at this from a literary angle, but the articles I've read for this post do include reference to real medical definitions etc.

Previously, I observed how being "deeply jaded" and having "misery in his heart" were key characteristics of the Byronic Hero, as well as Jon Snow — this trauma theory is a continuation of that. Indeed, to bring it back to Manfred, Assaad goes as far as stating that the poem's titular hero "suffers from what is now widely recognised as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)." I am purposely holding off on discussing what the origin of that trauma is, in relation to Manfred specifically, because, well... it needs a bit of forewarning before I get into it fully. Instead, let's look at the emotions it exacerabates or gives rise to, as detailed by Twitchell, and how they might be evident in Jon and his feelings regarding his bastard status.

(Jonny Lee Miller as Byron in the two part BBC series Byron, 2003)

Guilt

Does Jon suffer guilt due to him being a bastard and secretly wanting to "steal" his siblings' birthright? I'd say a strong yes:

When Jon had been Bran's age, he had dreamed of doing great deeds, as boys always did. The details of his feats changed with every dreaming, but quite often he imagined saving his father's life. Afterward Lord Eddard would declare that Jon had proved himself a true Stark, and place Ice in his hand. Even then he had known it was only a child's folly; no bastard could ever hope to wield a father's sword. Even the memory shamed him. What kind of man stole his own brother's birthright? I have no right to this, he thought, no more than to Ice. – AGOT, Jon VIII He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. – ASOS, Jon XII

But I think Jon's sense of guilt also extends to the high expectations he sets for himself, his "moral superiority" in the face of his bastard status, as discussed in Part 1. He feels guilt pulling him in two different directions, in regards to Ygritte: guilt for loving her, for breaking his vows, and potentially risking a bastard, but also guilt for leaving her, for abandoning her, and potentially leaving her unprotected:

His guilt came back afterward, but weaker than before. If this is so wrong, he wondered, why did the gods make it feel so good? – ASOS, Jon III Ygritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body... and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted. He wondered if his father had been torn the same way, when he'd left Jon's mother to return to Lady Catelyn. He was pledged to Lady Stark, and I am pledged to the Night's Watch. – ASOS, Jon VI "I broke my vows with her. I never meant to, but..." It was wrong. Wrong to love her, wrong to leave her..."I wasn't strong enough. The Halfhand commanded me, ride with them, watch, I must not balk, I..." His head felt as if it were packed with wet wool. – ASOS, Jon VI

This guilt surrounding leaving the women/girls he cares about unprotected also extends to Arya. Yet it was his need to prove himself as something more than just a bastard, by joining the Watch, which initially prevents him from acting, and which also makes him feel guilt for being a hyprocrite:

Jon felt as stiff as a man of sixty years. Dark dreams, he thought, and guilt. His thoughts kept returning to Arya. There is no way I can help her. I put all kin aside when I said my words. If one of my men told me his sister was in peril, I would tell him that was no concern of his. Once a man had said the words his blood was black. Black as a bastard's heart. – ADWD, Jon VI

I think there is a lack of reconciliation between Jon and his bastard status, between what being a bastard implies in their society: lustful, deceitful, treacherous, more "worldly" etc. Deep down, subconsciously, Jon really rebels against it. You can see that rebellion more clearly in his memories as a younger child, less inhibited:

Every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; Snow and Stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of Winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see. They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwyne." That morning he called it first. "I'm Lord of Winterfell!" he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell." I thought I had forgotten that. Jon could taste blood in his mouth, from the blow he'd taken. – ASOS, Jon XII

But Jon knows this truth about himself, he knows that he has "always wanted it", and that causes him so much guilt because he can't allow himself to be selfish in that regard, because to do so would confirm for him his worst fears... that he truly is a bastard in nature as well as birth — treacherous, covetous, dishonourable.

Despair

As he grows up, learning to curb his emotional outbursts from AGOT, Jon appears more and more stoic upon the surface. But beneath that, buried in his subconscious in the form of dreams, you have this undyling feeling of despair, this trauma connected to his bastard status, his partially unknown heritage:

Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind. – AGOT, Jon III

These recurring dreams, sometimes explicitly involving his unknown mother, sometimes not, represent a clear gap, a gaping blank in Jon's personal history and his perception of his identity:

"Sometimes I dream about it," he said. "I'm walking down this long empty hall. My voice echoes all around, but no one answers, so I walk faster, opening doors, shouting names. I don't even know who I'm looking for. Most nights it's my father, but sometimes it's Robb instead, or my little sister Arya, or my uncle." [...]

"Do you ever find anyone in your dream?" Sam asked.

Jon shook his head. "No one. The castle is always empty." He had never told anyone of the dream, and he did not understand why he was telling Sam now, yet somehow it felt good to talk of it. "Even the ravens are gone from the rookery, and the stables are full of bones. That always scares me. I start to run then, throwing open doors, climbing the tower three steps at a time, screaming for someone, for anyone. And then I find myself in front of the door to the crypts. It's black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down. Somehow I know I have to go down there, but I don't want to. I'm afraid of what might be waiting for me. The old Kings of Winter are down there, sitting on their thrones with stone wolves at their feet and iron swords across their laps, but it's not them I'm afraid of. I scream that I'm not a Stark, that this isn't my place, but it's no good, I have to go anyway, so I start down, feeling the walls as I descend, with no torch to light the way. It gets darker and darker, until I want to scream." He stopped, frowning, embarrassed. "That's when I always wake." His skin cold and clammy, shivering in the darkness of his cell. Ghost would leap up beside him, his warmth as comforting as daybreak. He would go back to sleep with his face pressed into the direwolf's shaggy white fur. – AGOT, Jon IV

"That always scares me", he says quite tellingly. From this key passage, in particular, we can see that Jon feels a deep rooted despair at essentially being unclaimed, unwanted... being without a solid (Stark) identity around which to draw strength and mould himself. He's afraid of being a lone wolf, because as we all know, "the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," (AGOT, Arya II).

This dream points him in the direction of the crypts — "somehow I know I have to go down there, but I don't want to" — which actually does have the answers he seeks because that is where Lyanna Stark is buried. Yet Jon is "afraid of what might be waiting for [him]", and wants to "scream" with dispair because of the darkness. So, this need for a confirmed identity is a double edged sword, which will no doubt be further complicated when his true parentage is revealed.

Elsewhere, Jon's dreams continue to have this despairing quality to them, often involving Winterfell, the Starks, and especially Ned, which is very interesting on a psychological level:

The grey walls of Winterfell might still haunt his dreams, but Castle Black was his life now, and his brothers were Sam and Grenn and Halder and Pyp and the other cast-outs who wore the black of the Night's Watch. – AGOT, Jon IV

Last night he had dreamt the Winterfell dream again. He was wandering the empty castle, searching for his father, descending into the crypts. Only this time the dream had gone further than before. In the dark he'd heard the scrape of stone on stone. When he turned he saw that the vaults were opening, one after the other. As the dead kings came stumbling from their cold black graves, Jon had woken in pitch-dark, his heart hammering. Even when Ghost leapt up on the bed to nuzzle at his face, he could not shake his deep sense of terror. He dared not go back to sleep. Instead he had climbed the Wall and walked, restless, until he saw the light of the dawn off to the east. It was only a dream. I am a brother of the Night's Watch now, not a frightened boy. – AGOT, Jon VII

But it is never "only a dream", is it?

And when at last he did sleep, he dreamt, and that was even worse. In the dream, the corpse he fought had blue eyes, black hands, and his father's face, but he dared not tell Mormont that. – AGOT, Jon VIII

Even Jon's conscious daydreams in AGOT revolve around his dispairing search for a solid identity:

A lot of these early dreams occur in A Game of Thrones, probably in response to his removal from Winterfell... his self exile. But later on in the series Jon continues to have dreams that tie him to the Starks and to Winterfell, ominous and sometimes despairing too. There's honestly too many instances to list, but if you want to understand the root of Jon's existential despair... it's in his dreams.

Cosmic Alienation

Cosmic alienation, now that's an interesting one in regards to Jon, since he definitely hasn't reached this state... yet. Life and his belief in the divine (the old gods) still hold meaning for him, but then he gets murdered by his black brothers. In the show, the writers hint at some cosmic alienation through Jon stating that he saw "nothing" whilst dead, but then they take it no further and generally do a piss poor job of post-res Jon. This characteristic of Manfred coming to the fore in Jon depends on what happens in The Winds of Winter, but I don't think it is at all that far fetched to assume that Jon will return to his body with a darker, altered perception of things.

Social Alienation

In Part 1, I discussed how Jon, like Byron's heroes, could be read as a "a rebel who stands apart from society and societal expectations." On a more psychological level, we can see how this Otherness, stemming from his bastard status, deeply affects Jon and his perception of himself and the world:

Benjen Stark gave Jon a long look. "Don't you usually eat at table with your brothers?"

"Most times," Jon answered in a flat voice. "But tonight Lady Stark thought it might give insult to the royal family to seat a bastard among them." – AGOT, Jon I

In his very first chapter, we see him quite literally alienated from the rest of his siblings, made to sit apart from them, an apparent necessity he seems fairly resigned to. Also in Part 1, I gave examples of instances in which Jon is mockingly called "Lord Snow," as well as a "rebel", "turncloak", "half-wildling", all of which serve to alienate him from the rest of the brothers of the Night's Watch.

Stannis gave a curt nod. "Your father was a man of honor. He was no friend to me, but I saw his worth. Your brother was a rebel and a traitor who meant to steal half my kingdom, but no man can question his courage. What of you?" – ASOS, Jon XI

The above interaction may seem on the surface to be about one thing — whether or not Jon will be of help to Stannis, offer him loyalty etc. — but tagged onto the end we have quite a poignant question: "what of you?" What are you, essentially. Who are you? The truth of his parentage may, in part, solve these questions... but it may also serve to alienate Jon from his perception of himself further. Ultimately, who exactly he is — what he believes in, who and what he fights for, etc. — will be solely his decision to make going forward.

So, the Byronic Hero, certainly in Manfred's case, but also in later iterations, is arguably traumatised by his own past. But regardless as to whether his trauma is related to a mysterious past, a secret sin, an unnamed crime, or incest, aka "secret knowledge", what is clear in Assaad's interpretation, is that the Byronic Hero is "living with the traumatic consequences of his own past and so suffers from PTSD." But why is Manfred traumatised, what is the specific cause of this trauma, or how might it reveal something deeper about Jon's own trauma? Now, here we come to the unavoidable... I'm going to start talking about Byronic incest and the pre-canon crush/kiss theory, and how it potentially parallels certain aspects of Manfred.

I should preface this by stating that I don't think Jon is suppressing trauma because he committed intentional incest with Sansa, but I do think (or at least somewhat theorise that) Byronic incest does come into play regarding his intense feelings of guilt and existential despair.

But still, stop reading now if are opposed to discussions of the pre-canon crush/kiss theory and the literary incest motif as a whole!

(Detail from The Funeral of Shelley, Louis Édouard Fournier, 1889)

Hey there to the depraved! If you aren't already familiar with the theory, here are some previous discussions/metas on the subject:

Full Blown Meta:

A Hidden and Forbidden Love by @princess-in-a-tower

Ask Answers (Long):

Jonsa as a more positive mirror to Jaime and Cersei? by @princess-in-a-tower, with additional comment by @jonsameta

Discussing the theory by @jonsameta

Evidence for pre-canon Jonsa? by @agentrouka-blog

Kissing in the godswood? by @agentrouka-blog

Why don't we read about Jon's reaction to Sansa and Tyrion? by @agentrouka-blog

More on Jon's supposed non-reaction by @agentrouka-blog, with additional comment made by @sherlokiness

A Jonsa "Unkiss"? by @fedonciadale

A hidden memory? by @fedonciadale

Sansa's misremembering by @fedonciadale

Descriptive parallels between A Song for Lya and Jonsa by @butterflies-dragons

Ask Answers (Short) & Briefer Mentions:

Jealous Jon by @princess-in-a-tower

Your new boyfriend looks like a girl by @butterflies-dragons

Like in Part 1, I've tried to cite as much as I could find, but as always, if anyone feels like I've missed someone important or that they should be included in the above list, please just drop me a line!

Now, it's a controversial theory, and not everyone's cup of tea — I think that's worth acknowledging! I myself am not wholly married to it, I'd be fine if it wasn't the case, but that being said, I can't in good faith ignore it when considering Lord Byron and the Byronic Hero. The incest is, unfortunately, very hard to ignore, both in his work and in his personal life. It's pretty hard to ignore in Manfred, for that matter, which is why I've held off talking about it... until now!

All aboard the Manfred incest train *choo choo* !!

First stop, Act II, scene one. Oh, wait, an annoucement from your conductor... apologies everyone, I purposely neglected to mention quite a key detail. Remember "Astarte! [Manfred's] beloved!", (II, iv, 136)? Yeah... it's heavily implied that Astarte is in fact Manfred's half-sister. *shoots finger guns* Classic Byron! *facepalms*

Oh, and that's not all! Let's consider the context surrounding the writing of this work for a moment, shall we? Unlike The Bride of Abydos (1813),* Manfred was written notably after the fallout of his incestuous affair with his half-sister, Augusta Leigh, composed whilst in a self-imposed exile. *spits out drink* Woah, woah there cowboy... what in tarnation?! EXILE?!

*As referenced in Part 1, @rose-of-red-lake has written an excellent meta on the influence of Lord Byron's work (and personal life) on Jonsa, paying special attention to the half-siblings turned cousins in The Bride of Abydos.

Although, as noted by rose-of-red-lake, The Bride of Abydos bears strong parallels to the potential romance of Jon and Sansa, as well as Byron’s own angst regarding his relationship with Augusta Leigh, the context surrounding Manfred seems... dare I say it, even more autobiographical. Because like Byron himself, Manfred wanders around the Bernese Alps, solitary and guilt ridden, in a state of exile heavily evocative of Byron's own — as I mentioned earlier, the beginnings of Manfred occured whilst Byron was staying at a villa on Lake Geneva, in Switzerland... the Bernese Alps are located in western Switzerland. In light of this, I think it's very understandable that some critics consider Manfred to be autobiographical, or even confessional. The unnamed but forbidden nature of Manfred's relationship to Astarte is believed to represent Byron's relationship with his half-sister Augusta. But what has that got to do with Jon?

Look, I don't know how else to put this:

Byron self-exiles in 1816, first to Switzerland, to Lake Geneva, where it is unseasonably cold and stormy — his departure from England is due to the collaspe of his marriage to Annabella Milbanke, unquestionably as a result of the rumours surrounding his incestuous affair with his half-sister.

Displaced nobleman Manfred wanders the Bernese Alps, in a kind of moral exile, where "the wind / Was faint and gusty, and the mountain snows / Began to glitter with the climbing moon" (III, iii, 46-48), traversing "on snows, where never human foot / Of common mortal trod" (II, iii, 4-5), surrounded by a "glassy ocean of the mountain ice" (II, iii, 7). He feels extreme, but unexplained guilt surrounding the death of his "beloved" Astarte, who is heavily implied to also be his half-sister.

In A Game of Thrones, Jon Snow chooses to join the Night's Watch, with the reminder that "once you have taken the black, there is no turning back" (AGOT, Jon VI). By taking the black, Jon arguably exiles himself from the rest of the Starks, from Winterfell, to a place that "looked like nothing more than a handful of toy blocks scattered on the snow, beneath the vast wall of ice" (AGOT, Jon III). But we aren't given any indication that he does this due to incestuous feelings regarding a "radiant" half-sister, akin to Byron/Manfred, are we? And it's not like we have several Manfreds/Manfryds AND Byrons namedropped within the text, is it? Oh wait... we do. *grabs GRRM in a chokehold*

What the hell, George?!

(Lord Byron on His Deathbed, Joseph Denis Odevaere, c. 1826)

But lets get back on track here and take a closer look at that section of Manfred I mentioned at the beginning — Act II, scene one, aka the part where all the incest and supressed trauma really JUMPS out.

So, early in Act II, in the chamois hunter's abode (a chamois is a type of goat?), according Assaad's analysis, Manfred is "hyper-aroused by a cup of wine." The wine is offered in an attempt to calm Manfred; however, to the chamois hunter's great dismay, it instead agitates him and makes him utter words which are "strange" (II, i, 35). Rather than wine, Manfred sees "blood on the brim" (II, i, 25). His sudden agitation and erratic behaviour confound the chamois hunter, who observes that Manfred is losing his mind: "thy senses wander from thee" (II, i, 27). Assaad's analysis of this scene, which she believes "is the most revelatory in the entire play" discloses "a bitter truth: Manfred's traumatic past informs his present life."

We might compare this with Jon, in particular, how his dreams reveal certain bitter truths to do with his past, now subconsciously informing his present. I've already looked a bit at his crypt dream from AGOT, Jon IV, but we see a sort of recurrence of this dream again in ASOS, Jon VIII. The imagery of being in a crypt, somewhere underground, buried, in the dark, a place of ghosts and spirits, is extremely evocative. Indeed, to go back to Byron's own description of Manfred, the setting of a crypt is extremely suggestive of certain bitter truths "left half unexplained", of secrets buried... and we know that's true because the secret of Jon's parentage is hidden down there, in the form of Lyanna Stark.

He dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the darkness. "Father?" he called. "Bran? Rickon?" No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on his neck. "Uncle?" he called. "Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me." Up above he heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. "Ygritte?" he whispered. "Forgive me. Please." But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark... – ASOS, Jon VIII

I don't think it's outlandish to state that, unquestionably, Jon's bastard identity is a source of ongoing pain for him. I talked about the theme of despair in Jon's characterisation and it is very evident in the above, and it stems from this "bitter truth" of not being a trueborn Stark, of not being "welcome", or having a true place. The emotions/mindset this trauma, concerning his birth and identity, evokes in Jon is arguably what brings him, on first glance, so closely in line with the Byronic Hero:

Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed / The crypts were growing darker = A mysterious past / secret sin(s)

You are no Stark / I am no Stark = Deeply jaded

There is no place for you here / I am not welcome there / This is not my place = standing apart from society and societal expectations / social alienation

He dreamt he was back in Winterfell / He walked deeper into the darkness = Moody / misery in his heart

He fell to his knees / Forgive me = Guilt

He walked deeper into the darkness / Please, Father, help me / He fell to his knees = Despair

These aren't all the Byronic characteristics I've addressed in relation to Jon, but it is a substantial percentage of them, all encapsulated, in one way or another, within this singular dream passage. As far as what is fairly explicit in the text, being a bastard is Jon's "bitter truth", it is the "traumatic past inform[ing] his present life." But what is Manfred's "bitter truth", what past trauma is informing his present? And can it reveal a bit more about another layer to Jon's trauma? Because there is a key distinction — Manfred's trauma, his PTSD, stems from a specific event, notably triggered by the (imagined) "blood on the brim" of his wine, whereas for Jon, we have no singular event, we have no momentus experience, we just have this "truth."

As mentioned previously, Assaad has recognised the character of Manfred as displaying symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). In Assaad's article, she remarks that "an experience is denoted as traumatic if it completely overwhelms the individual, rendering him or her helpless," and this is quite evident in the interaction between Manfred and the chamois hunter. Sharon Stanley, an educator and clinical psychotherapist, writes that "the word trauma has been used to describe a variety of aversive, overwhelming experiences with long-term, destructive effects on individuals and communities."

So, if trauma is related to an experience, or experiences, is it still accurate to say that Jon experiences trauma, connected to being a bastard? Because there is seemingly no singular or defining root experience, or event that it stems from, it just is… it is a compellation of several moments, revealed to the reader through Jon’s memories and/or dreams. What is being "left half unexplained” here?

Assaad makes reference to the American Psychiatric Association's definition of PTSD, in which it observes that for an individual to be diagnosed with PTSD, they have to suffer from one or more intrustion symptoms, one or more avoidance symptoms, two or more negative alterations, and two or more hyperarousal symptoms. The dreams Jon has certainly suggest something, but it seems like a stretch to say that, like Manfred, he is suffering from PTSD, right? We and Jon are very much aware that he is "no Stark", at least not in the sense that he is Ned's trueborn son, this isn’t something Jon is actively suppressing. By comparison, it is incontrovertible that Manfred committed something in the past, which he deeply wishes to forget and disassociate from:

Man. I say ’tis blood—my blood! the pure warm stream Which ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours When we were in our youth, and had one heart, And loved each other as we should not love, And this was shed: but still it rises up, Colouring the clouds, that shut me out from heaven, Where thou art not—and I shall never be. C. Hun. Man of strange words, and some half—maddening sin

(II, i, 28-35)

However, we cannot be sure what this traumatic point of origin is, though we know that it is related to something he has done to his beloved Astarte, which subsequently led to her death. Many critics have suggested that his sin is that of incest, and as I noted earlier, that Manfred as a whole is more than just a bit autobiographical and/or confessional in nature. Manfred's incestuous sin therefore re-enacts Byron's incest with his half-sister Augusta. But regardless of the true cause, Manfred is traumatised by his past and cannot overcome it. Is there something in Jon’s past, that may have subconsciously, or consciously, influenced his departure to the Wall — his self exile — which he cannot overcome, and which is closely tied to the issue of and pain he feels due to being a bastard, not just the illegitimacy, but also the negative characteristics it assigns? Is there an event, or experience, we can pinpoint as the origin of Jon’s trauma and potential PTSD?

To circle back to Jonsa, there is some, not unfounded, debate amongst us concerning the validity of the pre-canon crush/kiss theory. I've always found it an interesting theory, but until now, I haven't really given it too much thought. In light of the Byron connection, however, as well as the textual analysis I have for Part 3, I think this scenario, as detailed by agentrouka-blog, seems more and more likely. And I don't say that lightly, I really don't. It is a somewhat uncomfortable speculation to make, even if the interaction was more innocent rather than explicit (this is the side I firmly fall down on), however, it’s ambiguity does potentially parallel Byron’s Manfred and Astarte. This post would be even longer if I included my side-by-side text comparisons, so you may have to trust me for the moment that there are some very striking similarities between Act II, scene I of Manfred, and Jon's milk of the poppy induced dream in ASOS, Jon VI, as well as the actual buildup to that vision.

But, that sounds frankly terrible doesn't it? And it doesn't bode well for his future relationship with Sansa, does it? And what does it mean if Jon is suffering from PTSD due to an incestuous encounter with Sansa? What does that mean for Sansa, Sansa who is doggedly abused and mistreated by men within the present narrative? This is awful, why would GRRM root their romance in something traumatic? Oh I hear you, and these are questions I needed to ask myself whilst compiling this. But you see... now bear with me here... it isn't the actual encounter itself that was traumatic, for either Jon or Sansa, and that is reflected in both their POVs, because, though they think about each other sparingly (explicitly at least), it is never done so negatively. No, the potential PTSD Jon suffers from this experience isn't connected to Sansa, to whatever occured between them. Rather, I believe, it's connected to either the fear, or the reality, that Ned, his assumed father, saw and/or caught him (either Sansa had left at this point, or didn't fully grasp the issue), and this fear, this guilt, this sense of despair, is made evident in this passage:

When the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father’s face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn’t, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night’s Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not. “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she whispered, her skin dissolving in the hot water, the flesh beneath sloughing off her bones until only skull and skeleton remained, and the pool bubbled thick and red. – ASOS, Jon VI

That's the traumatic experience, I believe, not the kiss — yep, I strongly suspect there was a kiss. Moreover, Jon's recurring assertion, throughout the series, that he "will not father a bastard" is tied to this in some way, it’s tied to Ned, it’s tied to some sense of guilt and shame. It’s not tied to Sansa. But we'll look at this passage, what it means, what it parallels, and what directly precedes it, in comparison to Manfred, a lot more closely next time.

I'll leave you with a slight teaser though — the parallel that made me really sit up and take notice:

C. Hun. Well, sir, pardon me the question, And be of better cheer. Come, taste my wine; 'Tis of an ancient vintage; many a day 'T has thaw’d my veins among our glaciers, now Let it do thus for thine. Come, pledge me fairly. Man. Away, away! there’s blood upon the brim! Will it then never—never sink in the earth?

(II, i, 21-26)

Note this imagery!!!

Maester Aemon poured it full. "Drink this."

Jon had bitten his lip in his struggles. He could taste blood mingled with the thick, chalky potion. It was all he could do not to retch it back up. – ASOS, Jon VI

In both instances, a drink is offered, with "blood upon the brim", and "blood mingled". In Manfred's case, this is an explicit trigger for him, whereas for Jon? Well, it bit more hidden, a bit more buried, but this moment is, to my mind, the catalyst, because its imagery strongly evokes the colours of the weirwood tree — "blood" red and "chalky" white — you know, the "huge white weirwood" he later on envisions.

*spits out drink*

Maybe the magnitude of this parallel isn't completely evident as of yet, but it will be... or at least I hope it will be, so stay tuned for Part 3!

(Starting to run out of Byron pics so... I dunno, here's Rupert Everret, from The Scandalous Adventures of Lord Byron, 2009)

In Conclusion

To summarise, why is the Manfred connection so monumental to me? Why do I find the pre-canon kiss theory, specifically the scenario detailed by agentrouka-blog, now very hard to dismiss? Because:

The nine (!) Manfreds/Manfryds included within the text, as well as the two Byrons, one of which, the first mentioned in fact, first appears in Sansa's POV. But crucicially the direct link made by GRRM between Byron Swann and Manfred Swann.

The strength of the similarities that can be observed between Jon and the Byronic Hero, but also notably to Byron's Manfred, the "Byronic hero par excellence", according to Assaad. Especially the recurring emotions of guilt and despair, the latter exemplified perhaps most clearly in Jon's dreams.

The prominent theme of self-exile to escape something, something that perhaps cannot be openly stated, present in Manfred, Byron's own life, and Jon's narrative.

Those pesky half-sisters: Augusta, Astarte, and Sansa.

The PTSD symptoms clearly present in Manfred, but left "half unexplained", and seemingly not explained at all in Jon's POV — I'll dig more into this in Part 3.

The "blood upon the brim", and "blood mingled" — more on that in Part 3, I hope you guys like in depth imagery analysis!

Obviously, this is all still just speculation on my part, and it's speculation in connection to a theory that is understandably controversial. I'd be happy to dismiss it... if it weren't for the above. So, I suppose I'm in two minds about it. On the one hand, however you look at it, it's more trauma in an already traumatic series... which is *sighs* not what you want for the characters you care strongly about. But on the other hand, that literary connection to Manfred (and by extension to actual Lord Byron), the way it's lining up, plus that comparison GRRM himself made between Jon and the Byronic Hero... that's all very compelling and interesting to me as a reader, as a former English literature student. So, I don't want it to be true because... incest hell. But then, I also want it to be true because then it makes me feel smart for guessing correctly.

But anyway, we're going to be descending into incest hell in Part 3, so... we'll just have to grapple with that when we come to it. I hope, if you stuck with it till the incesty end, that you enjoyed this post!

Stay tuned ;)

Bibliography of Academic Sources:

American Psychiatric Association, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 5th edn (Arlington, VA: American Psychiatric Publishing, 2013); online edition at www.dsm5.org

Assaad, Lara, "'My slumbers—if I slumber—are not sleep': The Byronic Hero’s Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder", The Byron Journal 47, no. 2 (2019): 153–163.

Byron, George Gordon Noel, Byron’s Letters and Journals. Ed. Leslie A. Marchand. 12 vols. London: Murray, 1973–82.

Holland, Tom, "Undead Byron", in Byromania: Portraits of the Artist in Nineteenth- and Twentieth- Century Culture, ed. by Frances Wilson (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2000).

MacDonald, D. L. "Narcissism and Demonality in Byron’s 'Manfred'", Mosaic: An Interdisciplinary Critical Journal 25, no. 2 (1992): 25–38.

Stanley, Sharon, Relational and Body-Centered Practices for Healing Trauma: Lifting the Burdens of the Past (London: Routledge, 2016)

Twitchell, James B., The Living Dead: A Study of the Vampire in Romantic Literature (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1981).

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa meta #jon as the byronic hero #byronic hero #lord byron #tw: incest #cappy's thoughts #grrm and the Romantics #Jonsa and Romanticism #percy bysshe shelley #romantic poets #literary references #damn this was a long one!#glad a split it into another part!#i started to get a bit unhinged by the end not gonna lie

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avinaccia · 3 years ago

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A Completely Objective and Logical Ranking of Every Hetalia Character Song

New character songs are dropping, I have too much time on my hands, let’s go.

Also here’s a Youtube playlist for the ~✨nostalgia✨~

Bring it on in the tags

71. Ah Legendary Class⭐The Awesome Me Highway [Prussia]: Absolutely tearing it up on the drums and on the vocal cords alike (I pray for Atsushi Kousaka). Great for the memes.

70. Happy Thoughts Museum [???]: This is listed as an official song but I had literally never heard of the title. Then I listened to it and BAM! Smack back to 2013 watching the teasers for the show on Funimation. Not sure I’d count it as a character song though...

69. (Nice) My Song that is written by me for me [Prussia]: Deafened me but I can appreciate the industrial grind.

68. My House is...Quiet. ~With the Trolls~ [Norway]: I have never heard this song, nor can I find any version of it online. By default it goes here and I am so sorry Norge.

67. Make a Wish to Santa♪ [Sealand]: The discordant notes and childish exuberance only serve to make this sound like a demonic plea to Santa to eliminate the singer’s enemies.

66. Heaven and Hell on Earth [Rome]: Rome sounds like he’s been in the corner of a restroom. Extra points for the metal version, minus points for the fact that the beach scene was replayed like 1764 times.

65. Canada Complete Introduction [Canada]: Quiet af until Kumacheerio shows up and blows out your speakers. they did you dirty my darling 😔

64. It’s Easy!!! [America]: I don't think any video of this has ever stayed up for more than 20 seconds. Sounds cool, but like I was listening to 20 different genres at once, someone make him calm down.

63. Bù Zàiyì the Small Stuff ☆ [China]: I cannot for the life of me find the complete song anywhere, clips have a cool beat though

62. Let's Boil Hot Water♪ [Italy]: Exactly what it says on the tin..though a bit too close to elevator music for my tastes.

61. The Fragrance of Early Summer [Japan]: Very ‘from the books’ Japan-esque song

60. Peace Sounds Nice…[Baltic Trio]: All well and good until the radio demon shows up

59. W●D●C ~World Dancing~ [America]: How a song can sound like it’s from 4 different decades at once is beyond me

58. Overflowing Passion [BFT]: This is just drunken karaoke and I have 0 clue what’s going on #iconicforallthewrongreasons

57. Ren●Ren●Renaissance♪ [Rome+Chibitalia]: Wholesome Grandpa with Grandson content - barring the fact that Italy sounds on the verge of a nervous breakdown and Rome has had too much wine.

56. Roma Antiqua [Rome]: Similar energy to any one of China’s songs - there’s a part of the song where it sounds like he’s singing in the shower, and I will never not laugh at [CENSORED]

55. Country From Where the Sun Rises, Zipangu [Japan]: Very chill, very Japan, but just meh for me.

54. Moon Over Emei Shan [China]: Good message, okay song.

53. My Friend [England]: What a mind palace you must have Mr. Kirkland

52. With Love, from Iceland [Iceland]: Three words: Heavy. Metal. Puffin.

51. Having Friends is Nice...♫ [Russia]: Russia is the cutest thing ever

50. Mm. [Sweden]: Smooth transition from WWE Smackdown to shopping at IKEA.

49. Why don’t you come over? ~Beyond the Northern Lights~ [Iceland]: I don’t want to be mean but...this does sound like the second closing theme to an anime whose first closing was much more popular (à la Soul Eater)

48. Gakuen☆Festa [Germany, Italy, Japan]: Sounds like a 60s song of the summer but oh dear their voices do not go together. Hella cute though.

47. Wa! Wa!! World Ondo [Main Cast]: One time I travelled 10 hours in a coach bus with a bunch of teenagers to a city of note in my country, and the only souvenir I bought was the fucking PAINT IT WHITE DVD. Perfectly chaotic, UN ĐĕùX~~

46. In the Bluebell Woods [England]: In the album cover for this song he’s holding a guitar but this is not a rock song. Still has ‘running through the hills’ levels of dramatism though.

45. Poi Poi Poi♪ [Taiwan]: You’re telling me that Taiwan, someone whose has *ONE LINE* in Beautiful World (which is criminal tbh what kind of representation-) managed to get an eNTIRE CHARACTER SONG???????

44. White Flame [Russia]: There’s something to be said for a song that is 3x the length of any Hetalia episode

43. Ich liebe… [Germany]: Baking cakes for your friends has never been so wholesome.

42. We Wish you a Merry Christmas [America, China, England, France, Russia]: Nice to see they’ve gotten their shit together since United Nations Sta-hmm.

41. Ah, Worldwide à la mode [France]: Sounds like a Disney Princess song, hard not to picture France frolicking in a field of flowers.

40. Che Bello! ~My House is the Greatest!⭐~ [Italy]: Would not be out of place in an advertisement for Sea World.

39. May You Smile Today [Japan]: THE feel good song of the summer

38. Let’s Look Behind the Rainbow [Italy]: I will protect you.

37. I'm your HERO☆ [America]: “Anyone who’s sad or sullen will be arrested” did NOT age well.

36. Mein Gott! [Prussia]: Alternating headphone effect at the beginning is cool, so is the confidence...the actual singing on the other hand...

35. Nihao⭐China [China]: Listen, all of China’s character songs are great, I just can’t vibe with this one like some of the others.

34. Pechka ~Light My Heart~ [Russia]: I’m still having difficulty wrapping my head around the fact that this and Winter were released at the same time.

33. Pukapuka⭐Vacation [Germany, Italy, Japan]: Seems just a bit too much like they’re running on a treadmill that’s picking up speed and trying to sing at the same time. Peppy.

32. Santa Claus is Coming to Town [Germany, Italy, Japan]: This is unironically the best song sung by this trio; can only vibe with for two months out of the year though.

31. Excuse Me, I Am Sorry [Japan]: Japan’s character traits speedrun. Gives me barbershop quartet vibes for some reason but is catchy as hell.

30. The Story of Snow and Dreams [Russia]: A superhero anime opening in the making

29. England’s Evil Demon Summoning Song [England]: Sir that is not how you roast a marshmallow, don’t cut yourself on that edge.

28. Moi Moi Sauna♪ [Finland]: Exactly the type of song you’d expect and it’s wonderful

27. United Nations Star⭐ [America, China, England, France, Russia]: This isn’t as much of a song as it is a four minute struggle for everyone to sing without America yelling every 5 seconds...Like a particularly musical episode of Hetalia.

26. Paris is Indeed Splendid [France]: Paris-pa-pa-pa-paris

25. Absolutely Invincible British Gentleman [England]: Poppy, rocky, polka-dotty

24. Vorwärts Marsch! [Germany]: To quote the comment section: “This sounds like a German version of I’ll Make a Man out of you.” There’s some truth to that.

23. Hamburger Street [America]: The product of America’s rapper phase. 8/10 because he’s trying so hard and because I can unironically sing along to all of this.

22. Hoi Sam☆Nice Guy [Hong Kong]: A song that would absolutely destroy the ankles of anyone in DDR.

21. I Am German-Made [Germany]: There was once a version that had Germany and Prussia singing at the same time and it sounded positively demonic and Broadway could never

20. La pasión no se detiene ~Unstoppable Passion~ [Spain]: Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping...

19. Fall in Love, Mademoiselle [France]: Sounds like it should be in Mozart Opera Rock, I have kiss kiss falled in love.

18. Embrace the Très Bien Moi [France]: This is the definition of SELF LOVE PEOPLE.

17. Carrot and Stick [Belarus&Ukraine]: Absolutely DRIPPING in 2000s power ballad energy. The type of song that plays on repeat in the mind of the widow whose millionaire husband ‘mysteriously disappeared’ (and the only legit character song ever acknowledged by the anime)

16. C.B.C (Cowboyz Boot Camp) Vol. 1 [America]: AH MAH GAWWDDD

15. Winter [Russia]: Heavy metal fever dream and the perfect song for an angst-ridden teenager

14. Seychelles Here ⭐ Vacation Island [Seychelles]: UN👏DER👏RA👏TED SONG👏OF 👏THE 👏SUM👏MER👏

13. Nah, it will settle itself somehow [Romano]: One day I aspire to reach this level of chill

12. Let’s Enjoy Today [England]: I will never not feel happy when listening to this.

11. Einsamkeit [Germany]: Ludwig manages to air every single one of his worries about not being good enough compared to his friends and always being perceived as mean or uptight when he’s actually just a softie and now my heart hurts. 💔

10. Aiyaa Four Thousand Years [China]: A very poignant and beautiful song about the passage of time and the inevitability of its passing; comparable to an ancient ballad complete with explosive crescendos and meaningful lyrics.

9. Bon Bon Bon❤️C’est Bon C’est Bon! [France]: Peppy, cheerful, adorable, groundbreaking; has been my alarm tone for six years and I’ve yet to tire of it. 9/10 The moaning interspersed throughout has been an interesting wake-up call.

8. Let’s Enjoy! Let’s Get Excited! Cheers! [Denmark]: This is on par with Everytime we Touch by Cascada in terms of rage potential unlocked (the good kind)

7. Dream Journey [Japan]: Whoever’s playing the shakuhachi is absolutely KILLING IT. Dramatic, wonderful, great metaphors.

6. Gourmet’s Heart Beginner Level [China]: Absolute banger, I’m a vegetarian but this would inspire me to eat shumai.

5. Always with you...Nordic Five! [Nordic FIVVVVVEEEE]: Everyone harmonizes beautifully except for Denmark. Extremely catchy, number placement seemed appropriate.

4. Pub and GO! [England]: I love this trash man

3. Maji Kandou⭐Hong Kong Night [Hong Kong]: If you thought Denmark’s song was a banger JUST YOU WAIT. I WILL BLOW OUT MY SPEAKERS LISTENING TO LO-HA-SU.

2. Steady Rhythmus [Germany]: THIS SONG IS METAL AF. Seriously, if it can be classified as ‘hardcore’ by my father and his group of 50-somethings who have decided to single-handedly gatekeep the metal and hardrock genres, it can do anything.

1. The Delicious Tomato Song 🍅 [Romano]: Beautiful, absolutely awe-inspiring, poignant, catchy lyrics with an extremely deep meaning that only years of meticulous research and analysis can unlock, Romano I love you.

BONUS: Closing Songs

5. Hatafutte Parade (World Series)

4. Hetalian⭐Jet (The World Twinkle): The song is good, the dancing is cursed

3. Chikyuu Marugoto Hug Shitainda (World⭐Stars)

2. Marukaite Chikyuu (Hetalia: Axis Powers): nE NE PaPA

1. Mawaru Chikyuu Rondo (The Beautiful World)

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

Text

“I know you, Harry Styles”

Summary: Your boss asks you to quarantine at his house to watch over the place and his dog. He then calls you let you know a friend of his has gotten stuck in Los Angeles and needs a place to stay, so he has offered his friend the home that you are also going to be staying at. His friend is Harry Styles. Harry and you get to know each other while you both navigate through this uncertain time.

I’ve had this idea for awhile and im sorry if it’s a little late now, since strict quarantine has ended (lowkey might be coming back since california has been getting bad again), but still i really liked this and wanted to write it. Also look at how cute this sidelook from Harry is in this gif ^^ :) his nose is so slopey

It hasn’t been the easiest write so no worries if y’all hate it. I might do a part 2, but def no part 3 this time, unless it gets easier to write.

Word Count: 4.5k | Warnings: mentions of quarantine and Coronavirus (pls take care if the situation is triggering to you), language, drinking

Enjoy! (Feedback appreciated as always)

You weren’t sure what to say, you didn’t want to break that bliss of him not knowing you knew. “I,” you took a sip of wine, trying to gather a bit more courage, you then laugh meekly, “I, uh, know what you do.”

“Damn…” he said. Harry also took a sip of wine, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed the gulp. “I was still debating whether I’d say that I was a musician or an accountant, y’know, something random.” You smiled, Harry was funny, you decided.

“You’d lie to me?” you said, a hint of flirtation behind your words.

“Oh no, never.”

You were living in Los Angeles when the Coronavirus outbreak first arrived in the United States and California went into quarantine. You lived in a pretty small apartment in Silver Lake and you weren’t excited to be cooped in there, alone for at least the two weeks they had just announced. The governor issued that everything would be shut down by morning and you had to admit you were a little stressed. Just as you were about to walk into your apartment and lock the door, ready to shelter in, your boss and friend of yours called.

“Hey Y/N,” David said quickly over the phone, “You know how I’ve just left for England two days ago and I’m already here. Well, since I’m not a U.S. citizen, I can’t come back. Which is fine, but I was just wondering if you’d mind quarantining at my house and just watching over it? Until I can get back?”

You sighed, “Oh my god, David. I’m so sorry.” “The U.S. announced their border closure so strangely, I couldn’t have known...But it’s fine, really, I’m actually kind of happy to be home.” You nodded as if he could see you.

“So do you think you can do it? I’ve been having my neighbor check in on my dog, daily, but I’d prefer a friend to be at the house with him right now.”

“Oh! Yeah of course, I’ll pack a bag and head over right now. I’m honestly relieved you’ve given me this offer. You’re house is fucking huge and my apartment is tiny.” David chuckled at your slow response but happy tone.

You were right, David did have a nice house. His place was up in the Los Angeles Hills, a place he’d inherited from a wealthy grandparent. It was definitely going to be an upgrade for quarantine. David’s place would make it easier to be alone because of his cute little dog around, a swimming pool, a beautiful kitchen, literally anything you could have asked for. You drove up the long driveway, to the rustic house, David refused to call a classic 70’s mansion as much as you insisted upon it.

“Guess it doesn’t matter what I call it now, huh.” You said to no one. You pulled out your spare key, David had given to you for emergencies when you had started working directly under him. You opened the door and stepped inside to the empty mansion. Checkers, David’s dog came running up to you, pawing your legs and howling his tiny voice at your arrival. You smiled, setting down your bags and grabbing Checkers from the ground. “Hi, baby!” You swung him around and he licked your face adoringly. You ruffled his fur and then placed him back on the ground, he wasn’t more than eleven pounds.

Then you went to find your bedroom. You heard your footsteps echoing throughout the empty house and it definitely felt weird. Being alone, in this big house. You wondered why you had to keep convincing yourself it was so great. Then your phone rang for the second time today. David again. You threw your bags at the foot of the guest bed and walked back through the house to the main room adjoined to the kitchen, near the front door.

“Hello?”

“Ah, Y/N, thanks for picking up! And thank you for agreeing to watch the house -”

“Yeah, of course, I’m just settling in.”

“That’s great! But, I hope you don’t mind, a friend of mine has similar luck to me. He was just supposed to be in Los Angeles for a couple days, but he’s gotten stranded there and has nowhere else to go. He’s a good friend of mine and the house is most definitely big enough for two…” He trailed off, slightly anxious to put you out, when you had already been generous enough to leave the comfort of your own place during this stressful time. “So, I told him he could stay at mine, if he didn’t mind living with a stranger.”

“I’m the stranger?” You asked, slightly confused from what David was saying.

“Yeah, yeah I mean, I told him you were a friend and that you worked with me, obviously.” You laughed with some relief, “Ok, I’ve got you. That’s fine, more than fine, he’s got nowhere to go, it’d be rude of me to say no to him joining me in this mansion,” You got a little excited and emphasized the mansion.

David groaned, but finished, “Well, great! Because I’m pretty sure he’s already on his way. Bye!” The line went dead.

You wouldn’t say you were unhappy that you were going to be sharing the house. The loneliness of the empty house had grown daunting the minute you heard your footsteps. But you realized David hadn’t even given you the name of the man you were going to be living with for supposedly the next two weeks. As well, what if you and the man didn’t get along and were at each other’s throats for two weeks.

You shook the thoughts from your mind, trying not to make any presumptions. Then, you began to put away the groceries you had brought with you from your apartment and refilled Checkers’ water bowl.

Maybe twenty minutes after your phone call with David, informing you of your quarantine housemate, the doorbell rang and you jogged lazily to the foyer with the grand front door.

In front of you stood, a man with mop of dark brown hair on his head, some large green eyes, a nice outfit, and an array of tattoos peeking out from under different parts of his clothing. Wait- you thought - this isn’t some random tall, good-looking white guy. And then it dawned on you. David would be close friends with Harry Styles. This is so typical of that man. And for him to never tell you that before. That is especially David, trying to keep this guy all to himself.

“Hi, I’m David’s friend, he said he’d call ahead and let you know, I’m ‘Arry,” he rested one of his bags on the ground and reached out to shake your hand. You blinked your eyes, still a little surprised at who your roommate was going to be, but determined to be chill about it. You then reached out your hand to meet his. You took note of the largeness of his hands and how soft they were. His hand slid perfectly in yours and his eyes intensely gazed at you in the hallway.

“Yeah, he called, I’m Y/N.” You released his hand after realizing you still had hold of it, just a touch too long. You stepped aside to let Harry bring his things into the house. “Do you need any help with your bags?” You asked quickly, not wanting to seem rude. Harry turned to you as he had just stepped into the house and was exactly beside you, he quirked his head, “Oh no, I’m alright, no need to worry about me.”

“Okay,” you simply responded and walked back into the kitchen. You had left your phone in there and still had some things to organize, David didn’t keep his house as clean or organized as you liked it. You always set to work around his house whenever you came by, no matter his protests. Music was playing from your phone over the bluetooth speakers David had in the house, a mix of random songs for the month that you had compiled a couple weeks ago. It was a mix of your favorite artists: oldies and some newer stuff. You turned it up as you got to work.

Your music played loud enough that you didn’t hear Harry walk into the kitchen. “Hey,” he said. Startled, you flipped yourself to face him, discarding the box of cereal you were moving to be with the other cereals.

“What’s up?”

“I know we don’t know each other,” Harry started. You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with this. “And I’m fine if you don’t want to really interact, but I was actually kind of excited to find out that I wasn’t going to have to be all alone in this house for two weeks.”

Your lips quirked up in about a half smile as a soft chuckle came out. You rested back on the countertop behind you, feeling more relaxed at the rest of Harry’s statement. Harry stared at your figure still taking in the stranger in front of him. You seemed fairly laid back and he liked the music he heard from the speakers, assuming it was your selection.

“Oh. Yeah,” you began, scratching your head, “I know, I was excited to not have to be in my apartment, but then when I got here I got lowkey scared of being here with just myself and Checkers.”

“Wait, Checkers is here?” Harry’s mood and tone immediately picked up, looking excitedly around for the little dog. “I think he’s outside,” you said, crossing to one of the many back doors. You called for David’s dog, you and Harry’s third roommate, and he came leaping through the door.

He ran to Harry and Harry knelt to grab the dog and pick him back up. He twirled Checkers around over his head and kept repeating “Who’s a good boy” before placing the dog on one of the couches. On the couch, Harry playfully flipped the dog on his back and scratched his belly. Checkers wiggled and opened his mouth trying to nip playfully at Harry. Harry in turn put his head right near Checkers’ and shook his own fluffy hair in the dog’s face. Checkers went wild, loving the attention he was receiving.

After a bit, Harry let Checkers go and stood up, you had been watching on amusedly, “God, I love this dog, so fucking cute,” he said. You were surprised Harry knew David well enough to know his dog, but you dismissed it. Then, you laughed and agreed with him.

“Well, do you want to get to know each other over dinner tonight?” Harry inquired as you walked back into the kitchen, still trying to finish your self-given task of cleaning it up. “Sure, why not?”

It was the dinner time you and Harry had agreed upon. You had showered and unpacked over the past few hours. Harry, from what you knew, had done the same. You two hadn’t talked much more since he had suggested the dinner. The guest room he had chosen was on the second floor, like yours, just down the hall. After checking the time on your phone, you left your room and went downstairs. You found Harry on the couch with Checkers, reading a book. You tapped his shoulder from behind the couch and he turned his head to look up at you. “We said 7, right?” He snapped his book shut after raising her brows, coming out of a reading trance. “Oh, yeah,” he responded, rising from his seat and heading to the kitchen. You followed after him, “So what do you want to eat. I brought some groceries with me so we could cook something or there’s always take out.”

Harry opened the fridge, “Let’s make something, yeah?” He leaned back from the inside of the fridge and threw a smile to you over his shoulder. He was very confident and charismatic in person you had noticed just from the few odd moments you had spent with him already. You liked his music and felt like you should tell him you knew who he was, but you also liked the feeling you got that you were just two normal people living together for a little.

“Alright,” you began, walking to his side to look into the fridge as well, “Any requests, Harry?”

You looked up at his face, he was quite tall, taller than you had really thought. He was a really big figure up close, slightly intimidating if you were being honest. He simply demanded attention just with his presence, something strong emanating from him. You could see that strength in the lines of his jaw, lined in stubble, his green eyes set deeper in his head, the sinews in his neck. In every part of his body, there was strength, yet he spoke with a kindness about him. You were extremely interested in getting to know more about him, for this very reason. How could such a big, intimidating man in size and presence be known for being so kindhearted and in touch with himself and the world? What was his secret?

Harry simply began to remove various items from the fridge, placing them down on the island behind the two of you. He only said in response to your previous question, “Like Mexican?” You nodded and laughed, you’d grown up on Mexican food.

“I was thinking fajitas would be good, what do you think?”

“Yeah, absolutely, how can I help?”

Harry grinned at your attitude, he could tell you were the really fun, easy-going type of person. He was glad you weren’t being weird with him, even if he was a stranger. He finished taking the ingredients from the fridge and then gave you instructions on what he needed help with. The two of you set to work, this time it was Harry’s music playing over the speakers.

You sat at the dining table in the next room over from the kitchen and seating area. Harry had told you to go ahead as he finished your plates of food. Moments later, he walked into the room holding the plates. “Ta-da!” He exclaimed while presenting the two plates of food, that looked admittedly, very tasty.

He had changed his outfit from earlier and you were just now noticing. Earlier, it had been a striped dress shirt that he had dressed down with rolled up sleeves and half of the buttons undone, revealing a nice string of pearls, with navy high waisted trousers that cinched at his slender waist. Now, he was in a simple purple knit sweater and brown corduroy flares, still wearing the pearls around his neck. Neither of you were wearing shoes, both wearing only socks. And while Harry might consider that to be a more casual outfit, you were in leggings and a hoodie with a sun on it that you had thrifted awhile ago.

He sat down across from you after placing one plate on the placemat in front of you. The dining table was huge, meant for dinner parties and entertaining, not a traveler and a young employee. You took a bite and hummed in appreciation, but then said, “Wait.”

Harry stopped eating and looked at you, concerned there was something wrong with his cooking. “Red wine,” you stated. Harry’s worried face grew into a grin. “Red wine,” he echoed in agreement and nodded his head. You hopped up from your seat and ran into the kitchen, looking for the cabinet David kept his wine in.

After finding a reasonable Malbec, a favorite red of yours, you grabbed an opener, two glasses, and went back into the dining room where the munching Harry awaited. He was happily chewing his food as he gazed at you as you placed the glasses between your plates, uncorked the bottle with ease, and grabbed the glasses once more to pour the wine.

Finally, you sat down and said, “To whatever the fuck we are about to get ourselves into.” Harry laughed and offered a “Salud” in response. The two of your glasses clinked and you both drank, afterwards setting off to eat your food.

As you ate, you began to talk. Harry started, “So, you work with David?” while taking his fork and stabbing at a cooked bell pepper slice. You finished chewing, “Ah, yeah, he’s my boss. But we work pretty closely, I’m kind of like a personal assistant, but I do more than just his scheduling and errands.” Harry nods.

“Oh no, never. I would’ve definitely just told you who I was if you didn’t know, but it’s nice to pretend for a little.” He grinned as he said the words, his elbow resting on the table with his wine glass in hand. You ate some more, letting his words linger in the air. It’s nice to pretend for a little.

“Well,” you finally said, “I won’t give you any special treatment, if that’s what you’re implying. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a guy staying at the same house as me. Doesn’t matter to me what you do to pay your bills.”

Harry liked that. You were very intriguing, the way you spoke to him. Especially now that he was sure that you knew about his music and celebrity. “You make it sound like I’m a sex worker or something naughty!” he said, feeling more comfortable with you with the more time that passed and the more wine he had.

“It’s kind of the same thing...providing a service - that your body is an essential part of providing it properly.” You stated smugly, looking over at Harry from behind the rim of your glass. “And there’s nothing wrong with sex workers,” you added.

“You’re right,” he stopped, wanting to continue the conversation, but confused how to move on from sex workers. “So what do you think of my music?”

“I thought you wanted to be treated like you weren’t a celebrity,” you countered.

“That’s out the window, c’mon,” he said, leaning forward.

“You just want me to boost your ego,” you smirked, liking the banter that was coming so easily between you two, “Like I said, I know you, Harry Styles.”

He scoffed at your teasing and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t actually annoyed, he was enjoying this. “Then you’re a fan, huh?” Not letting it go without you saying how you felt about his music.

“Fine,” you sang slightly, shifting in your seat. “Your music,” you paused again, enjoying Harry eager to hear your opinion and you being in control, “is better than a lot of other modern stuff considered good by today’s standards.”

“So you like it?” He said slowly. That was probably the most roundabout, vague compliment he had ever heard. He picked at his almost empty plate, still staring at you.

You tilted your head and placed it on your palm, looking to the sky as if you were thinking about his question hard. Finally, you shifted your head in your palm so you were looking at Harry wearily. Then you shut one eye and said, “I guess,” before shrugging your shoulders as if you didn’t care at all. Harry let a single blow of air out of his nose, like a short laugh, before standing and taking both of your plates. As he walked out of the room he whistled lowly, “You are such a tease, Y/N.”

He disappeared into the kitchen and you heard him cleaning up. You were about to call out to him and say how he didn’t have to do the cleaning since he did the majority of the cooking, but then your eyes fell to the half drunk bottle of wine. Normally, you’d re-cork it and drink the rest at a later date, but it was still early in the evening and you and Harry literally had nowhere to go. Also, the two of you hadn’t gotten past the work question of getting to know you. There was still a bit more to learn about each other and you were happy to continue to discuss over wine.

Harry reemerged from the kitchen and you held up the wine bottle to him and waved it, “We need to finish this.”

“Have I told you yet that I like the way you think?” Harry walked over and grabbed the bottle from your hand. He quickly poured both your glasses much fuller than the usual standard glass of wine. When you eyed him curiously about the heavy pour, he only shrugged practically saying it’s just us drinking it who cares if we fill up our glasses extra full.

“No you haven’t, but I like the way I think too! I’m very smart you know,” you said with some play in your voice as you walked through a doorway that led to the sitting room. Harry trailed behind, bringing the now less than full bottle with him. You both sat yourselves on the couch, a fair amount of space between the two of you, not too close, but not too far apart either.

You both took long gulps of the wine. You were starting to feel a little warm from it, but you enjoyed where the wine was taking your conversation so you weren’t planning on stopping. Harry’s big green eyes squinted slightly at you from behind his wine glass, similar to how you had done earlier. He lowered it and licked his lips. There was definite tension between the two of you right now. Maybe you both had realized the implications of being alone with a stranger for two weeks with no interruptions and no distractions. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating because all you wanted to do was keep teasing Harry and have him keep baiting you.

Harry asked a question suddenly, breaking the silent staring that had been going on. And the tension was broken the two of you continuing your getting to know you for the rest of the night. By eleven, the bottle was empty and forgotten on the coffee table and you and Harry had scooted closer. You had similar likes and dislikes when it came to music. You talked about fashion and what it was like to get to wear top designers all the time - Harry being the wearer, not you sadly. You asked him what it was like to tour and he asked you more about your job and living in Los Angeles, how it was to not walk around the place and be bombarded with people. Then, you circled back to travel.

“I’ve been lucky enough to travel a lot in my life, too. I traveled with my family as a kid and I made sure my job would have me traveling around, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry took the last sip of his wine and set the glass down, readjusting himself to lean on his arm on the couch, looking at you.

“Was supposed to be with David in England, actually, but I got held up and was going to join him next week,” you mused, finishing your wine as well and leaning your body so your back was fully against the back cushion.

“No way, I was supposed to leave next week, too. Who knows, maybe we would have been on the same plane and crossed paths like that without even knowing,” Harry said excitedly.

You rolled your head to the right and looked at his face, how it had lit up at that unlikely prospect. “You probably wouldn’t have known, but I’m sure I would’ve been able to tell, probably have a whole crowd of fans there waiting for you, end up having to delay the plane for ya’. And I’d be sitting there like ‘which famous prick is holding us up?”

“Oi!” he swatted at your leg closest to him, “Has anyone told you you’re a bit mean.”

You raised your brows at his physical contact and his words. You shifted to your side again and slid your legs beneath you, looking directly at Harry. “Yes,” you said seriously.

Harry laughed at that. At least you were honest, and you were funny, too. You joined his laughter, it felt contagious, the way his voice was so loud, but so jovial. His eyes managed to twinkle even as he squinted, his smile taking over his entire face.

Without either of you noticing, the two of you had shifted extremely close to one another. You finally realized because you felt Harry’s breath fanning over your face. His breath smelled of Malbec, but his over scent mixed with it and turned it into something enticing. You wanted to lean in more, but the only place further to go was his lips.

Harry’s eyes flickered to meet yours, confused yet delighted about the situation he had somehow gotten himself in. The two of you breathing in each other, chests heaving from laughter, hearts beating from wine, and bodies ready to ignite the minute they touched. You remained there for a few moments more, basking in his glow.

And then you whispered, “I should go to bed.” You pulled away and retreated upstairs to your room. Harry was left there, sitting stunned at the whole situation. How had that happened? And what had you just stopped from happening? You were thinking the very same things as you sat down on your bed and calmed your breathing.

This was going to be a long two weeks.

Part 2

taglist: @cronias13, @theresthingsthatwellneverknow, @harrys-cherrry,

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #my writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles is domestic #harry styles slow burn #i hate this title #first long fic with no quote #nothing was strong enough #jk i had to change it #i couldnt handle it with out #enjoy

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x0401x · 4 years ago

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #12

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Suit Story

If you went through Ginza’s Main Street from 7-chome to 1-chome, the change in the city’s atmosphere would shock you. Bulgari, Cartier, Louis Vuitton, Chanel. Felt like you could play shiritori with these high-class brand names. It was a fun neighborhood to stroll around during Christmas season, as all the stores would come up with elaborate plans for the decorative lights, but it was currently autumn. The store most closely related to me in these vicinities was the long-established stationery store where I went to buy stationery. It was, however...

“Please raise your arms a little more.”

“All right.”

“Pull your chin back a bit. Yeah, that’s great.”

“Haah. Is this really right?”

“Of course. Might be hard, but please do relax.”

For whatever reason, I was across the street from the stationery store, practically in front of it, on the second floor of a branded men’s fashion store originally from England. On the walls of this mysterious-gentleman-themed space, which housed a bar counter and even a huge aquarium, there were clusters of business suits, pants and waistcoats with basting threads attached to them in conspicuous spots.

It was a place for taking measurements for custom-made stuff.

I couldn’t get over the feeling that this was some kind of mistake. Wasn’t this the stationery store? The place where you could buy vanilla-colored envelopes for 30 yen each? Or illustrated writing paper with seasonal vibes, or pens.

“Seigi, you are too nervous.”

“Nakata-san is such an imp, but so are you.”

Leaning against the bar counter, Richard shrugged his shoulders, indicating possibility.

Today was Thursday. Having been called by Richard, who said he wanted to ask me to do some odd job, I went over to the front of Etranger, and then we came to this store in the green jaguar. Just when I thought he was gonna make me hang with him for shopping, the man on the driver seat hastily took out his phone, showing me a video letter from my dad, Nakata-san.

“Seigi, congrats on your graduation. I wanted to go suit shopping with you, but I’m in Jakarta, so I’ll be borrowing Richard-san’s assistance for that. Seems like people are getting them custom-made lately. Make sure to buy a good one. Well, see ya.”

Richard had watched over me in the passenger seat as my eyes got wet, but the tears drew back in when we stepped into the store.

While talking lightheartedly about the difference between English and Italian suits, the young clerk, who wasn’t all too apart from me in age, smoothly took my body measurements with a measuring tape and showed me countless textures.

“You can also choose the lining. What should we do about the pockets?”

When I started getting dizzy, said man, who was like a page of suits, began giving me suggestions from behind. I had nowhere to run. I was really going to have my suit made here. As I picked a charcoal-gray suit with blue lining, Richard quickly told me that tanzanite cuffs would look very nice in it. Of course, I was thinking the exact same thing.

By the moment that the Onii-san finished the measuring and disappeared into the back of the store to take notes, I heaved a deep sigh. “This kinda stuff’s been happening a lot lately. All I ever do is receive.”

When I said that, Richard laughed, giggles ringing up his throat.

Richard had two types of smiles, and whenever he raised his voice while laughing, if I refused to back down, he’d often give me a word of advice of some sort. When it was a silent smile, I’d feel like he was telling me in some way to “reflect about myself”, which would make me a bit anxious, but I liked both.

Walking up next to me as I stood in front of the mirror, Richard grinned. “It is no longer guaranteed that your body will grow out of your clothes. Isn’t it fun to sometimes purchase slightly larger clothes and try to wait for your body’s growth?”

“Feeling like this talk doesn’t have the ‘sleep well and drink milk’ kinda nuance to it.”

The reply was a smile. How strange. Richard’s face was right at my left side, but the smile in the mirror was looking directly at me. Clad in a double-button slender silhouette suit, his figure was perfect no matter from what angle I looked at it, like an extraordinarily fine jewel, so my own figure as I tensed up beside him appeared even weirder.

“Hey, Richard, I kinda have the feeling that suits are like the base metals of jewelry.”

“Are you referring to the foundation parts of rings, earrings and such?”

I nodded. The base metal was the metal part that formed the foundation for attaching gemstones to jewelry. In stores, people would often memorize the materials and call them by their names, such as gold base metal or platinum base metal.

It was a part that never played the leading role in Etranger, which handled accessories with gemstones on them. But it’d be hard to wear jewelry on the body without it, and it was also a part that allowed people to express their particularities regarding the materials, durability and design. Whether they would be prominent or not depended on the basis. Erm, this was probably what a jeweler from Kyoto that I was acquainted with would say. The contrary was also possible.

“Gotta psyche myself up. If I don’t become someone that won’t lose to this suit, I’d feel bad.”

“This is my personal opinion, but there is nothing more tiring to look at than a jewelry in which the gem and base metal are at rivalry with one another. What you should emphasize is the harmony. Just because you use the finest high-grade eggs and milk as ingredients, it does not mean you will create the best pudding – is that not the same thing?”

“Ah...”

When I replied that, indeed, high-end ingredients were often strongly in demand, the beautiful man nodded with an “exactly as you say”. By the looks of it, those were the sweets that he was into lately. I hadn’t been able to take time some for it at all due to being busy, but I decided to make pudding again one of these days and offer to him. Despite having a wallet that enabled him to eat as many high-grade desserts as he wanted, Richard would always be delighted anew no matter how many of them I made, which made me believe that, as one would expect, he had a talent for pleasing people. I was grateful for his existence.

“Both suits and jewelry are goods that exist for the sake of their owners. The initiative is clear from the start. You must handling it skillful and comfortably, not fight against it. That is why it is custom-made.”

“So you’re also ‘skillfully handling’ the clothes you’re wearing right now?”

“Evidently. Enough that I do not know anymore at what point it ends and I begin.” With that said, Richard sleekly patted his suit. I wanted to try saying that too someday.

We exchanged glances not through the mirror but directly.

When the clerk Onii-san came back, the measuring recommenced. I got kind of embarrassed as he praised me, saying I was well-relaxed.

“Seigi-kun, good work! Wow, that suit looks really great on you.”

“Thanks, Tanimoto-san. Uh, this print on your furisode, could it be—”

“I was told it’s a modern type of print, but yep, it’s kinda like...”

“It looks like a bismuth crystal!”

With a face that said, “I know, right”, a dandy crease formed under her eyes, which were just a bit more on-the-mark than usual. Her bob-cut hair was the same as always, her cream-colored hakama paired with a yellow-green and dark blue furisode, which bore a mysterious geometric pattern print. On top of being cute, it was unique. She said it was rented, but I got emotional upon finding out there was a furisode that was so much like her.

As for me, I was wearing a double-button English suit that fit my body extremely well. It was a little embarrassing, but the creatures called college boys were more or less the same kind of individuals as myself, so they weren’t too mindful of their male friends’ clothes. Only one of them, who had found employment in the apparel industry, said that “the suit Nakata’s wearing is so nice”.

It was the graduation ceremony of Kasaba University. We gathered in the excessively large auditorium for all but an instant, and once we had our diplomas in hand, it was the beginning of a rapid shooting party, where we took pictures with our preferred friends in spaces near the auditorium. Tanimoto-san came running over to the spot near the central library, where we had decided to meet up.

“Seigi-kun, really, congrats. Things might get hard from now on, but if it’s you, everything will definitely be okay.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best. I don’t think I’m that big of a deal, though...”

“That’s not true. I know very well how awesome you are.”

I played around a little and bowed my head, also congratulating Tanimoto-san for her graduation, she laughed with a “huhuhu”, looking happy.

She had passed in teaching and she would officially be a middle school science teacher starting this April. She fulfilled the dream that she had told me about when we were in our second year of undergrad. So cool. She had laughed when I said I wanted to take her classes if it were ever possible, but now I knew her video communication address, so it might be that I could actually get to attend her lectures at least once. Even if I were no longer living in Japan.

“Tanimoto-san, the school you’re assigned to is...”

“In Okayama Prefecture. It’s famous for the Katsuta Group of vicarya fossils. Compared to you, it’s next-door.”

In a few days, my address would change from Japan to Sri Lanka. I was going to be a jeweler apprentice. I had been told that I would often have to move around in rough dress, so sure enough, I was going to dedicate myself to wearing formal stuff for the time being. It was a bit of a waste, but Nakata-san and Richard had probably given me a chance to wear this kind of thing because they knew about that.

I could hear a voice in the distance calling, “Shouko~”. It was apparently a friend of Tanimoto-san’s. She waved at them in response.

“Seigi-kun, y’know... I think I was very lucky to meet you in this university. Literally thank you. Thanks to you, university was always fun.”

“Those are all my lines. But Tanimoto-san, I only ever gave you trouble.”

“If you’re gonna say that, same goes for me. I feel like you’ve granted me many opportunities. Seriously, thank you.”

When she smiled, saying she was going to do her best, she looked really cute. Neither of us had any familiarity with Okayama, but surely, she would actively pave the way with her own strength no matter where she was. And on her days off, she would go out to the Katsuta Group to dig up fossils.

“From now on too, if there’s anything I can help you with, I want you to tell me. I’ll do anything. If you run into any weirdo, I’ll get on a plane and come give them a beating.”

“Me too; if anyone ever messes up with you, Seigi-kun, I’ll take my crack hammer and go finish them off. Look forward to it. Ah, Aki told me that a sniper rifle suits me better, apparently?”

“I-I wonder.”

After that, we talked for a while, seated on an inconspicuous bench, and when it was finally time, she told me to at least take care of my body, offering me her hand. I nodded and squeezed it back. Her hand was small but very strong.

“Take care of your body, at the very least. May the blessings of the stones fall upon you.”

“Thank you. You too.”

We bowed deeply, taking pictures with each other while we were at it, and once we were done with the commemorative photoshoot, in which the two of us kept a moderate distance from one another, we parted ways. Students here and there were hugging intensely and wailing, but neither she nor I were that type, and I didn’t think this would be farewell for a lifetime. We would definitely get to see each other from now on too.

However, this was our last time seeing each other while we were students. After the handshake, my angel waved her hand with a “see you”, even more brightly than an actual angel.

Later on, having finished looking around for the friends that I could call friends and going on a tour to tell them “thank you for everything until now”, lastly, I sent a brief text. Not to Richard. To Nakata-san and Hiromi.

“I was able to graduate from university without problems. Thank you very much, truly. I will be in your care from now on too.”

Rather than a greeting, it turned into a notice to announce my renewed determination. The stylish suit indeed gave off an extraordinary feeling of fittingness, but I couldn’t think I was fully used to it. Obviously. It finished being made just a while ago. It would start from here. If it would take on my shape the more I wore it, then I would make sure to wear it steadily to my own liking.

What mattered was the harmony, he had said.

While smoothly stroking the suit, which I still couldn’t deem as anything other than formal wear, as if I were stroking my favorite gemstone, I seared the contrast of cherry blossom petals against the blue sky into my eyes.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #tanimoto shouko #richard #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #jr short story collection #my translation

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years ago

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You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 23

--------

2000

We were ten years old, Derek and I. Playing a game of hide and seek with his sister Laura. It felt like it was more a game of “let the kids run around and not bother me”. We were deep in the woods outside of their home, laughing and squealing delight as we ran and ran. That is until lightning flashed through the sky and thunder boomed immediately after. Spooked, we ran further from the thunder and lightning, finding a small improvised shelter that we had made a few years before when we would play cops and robbers. Derek’s uncle Peter had helped us build it, occasionally playing the sheriff when he deemed us “less annoying than usual”.

Once inside the little hut, we sat and decided to wait out the storm or at least until someone came to get us. It was mostly dry with only or two leaks in the roof. We waited a while in silence, only the rain and wind howling filled the air. It was almost peaceful. I had been sitting there, literally twiddling my thumbs when I noticed the anxious movements Derek was making. He was tapping his foot against the soft earth and he was repeatedly cracking his knuckles.

“What is it?” I asked. He seemed to snap out of his trance and looked at him, then looking away with a slight blush on his cheeks.

“I was just thinking about what my mom said last year... About us being arranged in a marriage.”

“What about it?” I turned my body so that I could face him.

Derek rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I dunno... I guess that I wouldn’t want to be forced into a marriage with you. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“You’re right.” I glanced out towards the woods, smiling fondly, “I want to fall in love. I want someone like Dimitri in Anastasia.” I sighed dreamily.

“Wasn’t he a con-artist?” Derek raised an eyebrow. I shoved him playfully.

“No...Well, yes. But he doesn’t take the money the Duchess offered him as a reward because he wants Anastasia to be happy.”

“He’s a cartoon.”

“And you’re a dork.” I shook my head, “What about you? Who would you wanna marry someday?”

Derek thought for a moment, “I guess... I would want someone like Anastasia. She’s super badass and defeats the villain all by herself. She also went through a lot and did a lot even when she didn’t remember who she was, she fought for her future.”

As sweet as that was...

“She’s a cartoon.” I mocked his voice. He grinned and shoved me, starting a wrestling match that ended with Talia and Peter finding us. They brought us home and made us hot chocolate.

After landing, Michael and I had taken a ferry to the Shetland islands to Sumburgh, the village on the island where the Lunar Circle was settled. We actually were brought to a castle, which was already insane enough. The next insane thing was a statue just inside the massive doors into the main room of the castle. It was a humanoid with the head of a wolf, wearing a kilt and armor. The creature also carried a sword.

“What is that?” I whispered to Michael.

“The Wulver. A werewolf that had come to peace with his wolf and human sides. He was friendly to locals and they seemed fine with him. That’s when hunters came and tried to kill him. He was the reason for founding the Lunar Circle - coexistence.

“Can I do that?” I whispered under my breath.

“Unfortunately, no.” Our attention was brought to a man with a thick Scottish accent walking into the room, “Our world has lost touch with the old magic. But maybe someday we can bring it back.” He was average height, with salt and pepper hair that was on the longer side and a bit shaggy. His eyes were a kind blue color. He held out his hand to me.

“Praetor Lachlan McLeod.” The stranger introduced himself, “It’s so good to finally meet you, (Y/N).” So this was the man who wrote the letter, it was nice to have a face to a name. I shook his hand and smiled politely.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Praetor.” From my googling, Praetor was a Roman term for an official, which was an interesting concept since Rome had completely invaded all of England, Ireland, and Scotland and almost wiped out their culture. But whatever.

“Please, call me Lachlan.”

I nodded, “Okay, Lachlan.” He held both of my hands in his smiling sympathetically.

“I want to extend my condolences, again, for your loss. Your mother and father did so much for the Lunar Circle.”

Slowly, I slipped my hands from his, “Thank you... I just have a lot of questions about them.”

“All in due time, my dear. You’ve had a long flight and I’m sure that you’re exhausted.”

Michael sighed, “Oh, we sure are-”

“I’m not tired. I want answers.” I said sternly. Michael looked incredibly nervous which made me wonder how high up this Lachlan guy was, “I appreciate your concern, sir, but I am coming from a place where I am just now remembering my parents were a part of a secret werewolf society that gave them the tools to take all of my memories away and said society wouldn’t allow me to be accompanied by my partner. It took a lot for him to let me come by myself, especially since he had never trusted the Lunar Circle in the first place.”

“Ah, yes, Derek Hale.” He said, almost amused, “I remember his mother’s rejection letter. It was somehow very personal. I think she referred to me as ‘a spineless coward who would rather fraternize with the enemy than fight them.”

I clicked my tongue, “Sounds like Talia.” Michael nudged my side, signally for me to chill.

“And another thing-”

“Oh no.” Michael hid his face in his hands.

“This guy.” I pointed to Michael, “He killed my parents, isn’t there some kind of punishment for that?”

Michael ripped his hands from his face, “Hey, that wasn’t my fault.”

“Mr. Keaton’s unfortunate affliction caused by Peter Hale has been reviewed.” Lachlan put his arms behind his back, “I assure you. It was all the Hale’s doing.”

I jerked forward, Michael had to grab my arms to hold me back, “Derek is not his uncle.” My eyes flashing red.

Lachlan raised his eyebrows and smiled, leaning down and flashing his alpha red eyes at me in return, “I’m sure he’s not.” The red left his eyes and he stood up straight, “Take her to the infirmary and then straight to bed.” He said to Michael, his eyes never leaving mine. I kept my eyes on him, even as he started to walk away, this kilt swaying with each step.

“The infirmary? Why?” Michael asked.

“I believe Miss (Y/L/N) is carrying something.” He grinned, “Something that may calm her temper.”

After a blood test in the infirmary, we were escorted to two rooms in the castle. Of course, this left me alone with my thoughts that I really didn’t want to think about. Knowing that Derek and everyone else was back home fighting against the alpha pack while I was in this ancient castle where I haven’t gotten the answers I wanted. Why was I even here? To take up my parents’ mantle? Whatever it was, I didn’t want it. I just wanted to go back home and help. I looked out the window of the castle, seeing the moon high in the sky.

I mean, what could they tell that I didn’t already know? My parents took my memories to keep me safe and look where it got them? Burned to ashes. And what else? I was only stalked by a psychopath and had to watch my friend struggle to not hurt anyone. I mean, hell, I was still struggling with the change. Uncle Noah was still processing what I was. Yes, he’s supportive but to what end? And Stiles? I wasn’t there to protect him when he was kidnapped and beaten by the Argents and now I was millions of miles away and if he was in trouble there was nothing that I could do. And if anything happened to Derek and I wasn’t there to save him? What was the point of even being alive? I would be without them, helpless and guilty, all because of some stupid secret society.

My chest got tighter and tighter as my emotions ran high. My thoughts and feelings were moving so quickly that it felt like I didn’t have control of my own mind. My hands clenched tight, I could feel all of my features shift. Coarse hair growing down the sides of my face, the bridge of my nose tightening. I screamed loudly, the high pitch lowering into a loud roar.

“This is your fault!” She shouted, standing up, “Take me home!” She lunged forward. Michael lunged forward, using the shield to knock her back across the room and into the window. Surprisingly, it didn’t break. She fell to the ground, looking up quickly.

MICHAEL

From the loud roar that just came from the next to his, Michael had a feeling that the Sheriff had been right. She was a time bomb and she just exploded. Michael quickly grabbed a shield from one of the suits of armor that for some reason always decorated castles and made his way into (Y/N)’s room. (Y/N) was on the bed, tearing at pillows. There were feathers and fluff flying all over the room. She was in full shift, her eyes fiery red, her canines sharp. Her eyes took him in, snarling loudly. She jumped off the bed, landing in front of him on all fours. Michael jumped back, shield held tight in his hand.

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He tried to put on a brave face, “You just need to calm down and get some rest.”

“SCREW YOU!” She shouted, lunging again. This time, Michael moved on the way, letting her slam into the door, which also didn’t break.

“That’s a good door.” He said to himself. Michael looked from the door and back to the angry werewolf. She was seething with rage and one step closer to killing him.

“Think about this. You don’t want to kill me!”

“Yes, I do! I hate you!”

“Hate is such a strong word...” He said nervously. (Y/N) lunged again and was met by a door to the face. Lachlan had opened the door and they both looked down at (Y/N) on the floor. She was on her behind, rubbing her forehead. Lachlan sighed, reaching down to help (Y/N) up.

“I seem to have underestimated your anger. Please, walk with me.”

(Y/N)

Lachlan led me out of the castle and down to the grounds. In the back of the stone walls, there was a large garden. The Praetor hadn’t said anything since we had been out here, but I think that’s what he wanted. The moon and the atmosphere around us was calming, must be the magic here.

“I apologize for dismissing your concerns earlier.” Lachlan said finally, leading us to the cliff side where we could see the waves crashing against the rocks, “You have been through a lot lately. More than any new werewolf is expected to handle as well as you have.” When I looked at him, I could tell he was being genuine.

“I just...” I sighed, leaning against a nearby oak, “I didn’t want to come here. I didn’t want to leave my partner behind. And... I didn’t want to meet the people who told my parents to take my life from me.”

Lachlan looked up at the moon, the wind flowing through his hair, “Your concerns are near and dear to my heart. My own parents used the Wolf Eclipse spell on me after I mated with a she-wolf from a rival clan. The look in her eyes when I told her I didn’t know who she was... I see it every time I close my eyes. And then I lost her.” His voice shook a bit, “I never forgave them after that.” He looked back at me, “When your parents told us that they had done the spell after the Hale fire, we told them it was a bad idea. You needed to be stronger than ever, maybe even leave Beacon Hills, but they became too attached to the community, to the sheriff and his son.” They stayed for them... I have no idea what my life would have been like without Stiles in it. It was so different. That was a life I didn’t want to think about because it was a life without my best friend and his insane antics. It was a life without Uncle Noah who loved me no matter what. It would be a life without Derek, or at least a life where I wouldn’t be there to meet him again.

“I remember now that my father thought we were safe.” I wrapped my arms around myself, “Chris Argent is loyal to his word and the code his family is supposed to follow. Unfortunately, he is the only one who follows that code. Even his own daughter was corrupted by his father and his sister and she was dating a werewolf.”

“Unfortunately, not every hunter can be Chris Argent. From our understanding, he is the only one fighting with his head while the others see us as inhuman.” He chuckled, “You might even say that we are more human than they are.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

“Lachlan?”

“Hmm?”

“What am I doing here? Why bring me all this way?”

Lachlan looked back up at the moon and smiled, “Well, it was originally to restore your memories. Thankfully, that resolved itself. Now, since you are the only member left of your clan - an alpha was two sparks - we were hoping that you could spend some time with us to relearn the basics. And I also want you to relax, experience your culture, your legacy.”

“That sounds great and all. But I don’t have time to do that. I need to get back to Derek.”

“(Y/N), you know that it is too dangerous for the both of you to be there. I don’t want you to experience what it’s like to lose a mate. It’s... It’s soul crushing. Losing who you love most - that is the worst pain anyone can feel.” Lachlan turned to go back to the castle, “Think about it. You aren’t a prisoner here. You may leave whenever you like. But I think you could do great things with just a little help.” With that, his footsteps faded into the darkness; leaving me with only my thoughts, the moonlight, and the ocean below. I had to make a decision, one that would ultimately decide my future as an alpha. I just wish someone I knew was here to help me make this decision. If only Uncle Noah were here. He was so level headed and wanted the best for me, but the werewolf drama was probably too much for him already. And Derek would want me to hone in on my skills, even if that meant going into battles alone and possibly losing them.

I just wish it wasn’t this hard.

After pressing Derek’s contact, I pressed the phone to my ear and listened to it ring. I had no idea what time it was back home, I just needed to at least pretend I was talking to him.

“Hey Der.” I smiled, “I know it’s late or early. Honestly, I’m not sure. But I wanted to call you and tell you how today went. The flight was long, the food was okay. Uh they made me get a blood test for whatever reason. Oh, and there’s this thing called the Wulver and he was a werewolf that came to peace with his human and animal side. Lachlan’s really nice and doesn’t want to take me from you so the coast is clear on that one. And uh I remembered something today. When we were kids, we got lost in the woods in a storm and we talked about crushes. Funny how you had a crush on a girl who lost her memories.” I laughed, “Anyway... I miss you. And I love you. And I’ll be back as soon-”

I was cut off by a beep and a message telling me that the allotted time of this message was over. Sighing, I set my phone down and flopped back on the extravagant bed that seemed to form to my body in just the right way. All the fluff and feathers had been cleaned by the time I came back so I should probably thank whoever the cleaning staff were. All I can do is sleep and hope that tomorrow will give me better answers.

-------------------

Read part 24 here!

I watched Inside today so I am no feeling good.

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are appreciated!

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#derek hale fic #derek hale x reader #teen wolf fic #teen wolf x reader

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votederpycausemufins · 3 years ago

Text

Surprisingly Familiar Ch 1

The first chapter of the sequel to Summoning Family. I'm going to be working on my scattered au fic more, but you might still see some chapters of this scattered around

@petrichormeraki made the hermit!Tommy au, and @helleborusangel did amazing rambles for the chapters of Summoning Family.

Now, Let's see how things have gone since the ending of Summoning Family.

It had been eleven days since Grum’s birthday and now it was Jrum’s. He was excited by the party, playing games and trying to scam people of their diamonds. Cake was nice, his mask getting a special cake of his own with diamonds since Grum had gotten the same. And then it came to presents.

Jrum was especially happy at any toys he got and glad if he was just getting diamonds. Kokatori had also managed to get another ribbon around its neck and try to be a present again. Jrum wasn’t the most pleased about that since he was still coping with everything that happened with the egg, but he still took the present before handing them off to Grum.

Just as the presents were just about all gone, two more were placed on the table, each one with a different label. Jrum went to grab the last present when he saw the new ones being placed, so he looked up at who was putting them down, surprised to see an unfamiliar face. “Um, who are you?”

The question made everyone look over, most people looking confused, but three people had different reactions. Phil looked surprised, recognizing the man. Grian was also surprised, but also awestruck. Lastly, in Grum’s arms, Kokatori hissed.

“What the heck are you doing here? Who even let you in?” Phil asked, walking over to the man.

“I let myself in. I mean, I sort of already had permission to be here, just never used it. Building big was never really my thing.”

“Who are you then?” It was Scar who spoke up. The person looked at a few of the hermits who seemed to also look as confused as Scar sounded.

“I think the beard is messing with them.” Phil said, elbowing the man, who then ran a hand through his beard.

“Right, spend a month on an abandoned island and then get captured by pirates and you can’t really do much for that. Anyone got a raz...or…” he trailed off as Jrum pulled out some special shears. He was stunned by the bot having such a thing, but took them with a thank you and stepped out of the room.

After a few minutes, he stepped back in, and immediately some of the hermits were no longer confused. “Oh my god, it’s been so long!” Bdubs was the first to say, going over to the man. “What have you been up to!”

“Eh, mainly family. You’ve been working with someone named Scar?” Bdubs nodded and gestured to the mayor. “Got it. Nice to meet you.” He moved over to Doc. “And how about you? How’s the family life?”

“Eh, some days are always better than others, I haven’t been around here as often because of it. What about you?”

“Well, the kids are all grown up at this point, I’ve got more time on my hands so I’ve gone back to filming.”

Doc nodded. “Sounds good to me. I’ve got to tell you more about what we did last season.”

“I’m sure you do.” The man chuckled, moving over to Keralis. “Hey, can’t wait to see your city. The pictures seemed crazy enough. I can’t believe you built all that.”

“Why spank you, but I have had help with designs.”

“Yeah. And you said you own it with someone named Cleo now?”

“Yes, in fact, she’s got a relative that is in Bub’s troop last I checked.”

Cleo spoke up at this point. “Yep! Got an order in for popcorn just the other day.”

“Nice to hear. By the way, Etho’s behind me, isn’t he?” The hermits unfamiliar with the man were surprised by that comment, as Etho was indeed behind him. Pretty much no one could tell when Etho was sneaking around, so this new person doing it was very shocking. “I’ll be asking everyone about your shops so I can stay awake from them.”

“Oh come on, some of them would be fun for a survivor like you. In fact we could get Tango to open up decked out for a session for you.”

“Right, sure Etho. Now is Beef around?”

“No actually. He had something really important come up.” Etho answered, another hermit nodding to agree with the statement.

“Ah, that’s too bad. Well, I guess the only person left to greet is ol’ rap battle over here.”

Wels suddenly looked embarrassed. “Oh that’s why you look familiar. You’re the OBP leader.”

“Yeah.” The man nodded. “You know green wasn’t really your c-”

“Please don’t bring that up again.”

The man laughed. “Alright, I won’t.” He then looked at the rest of the hermits. “Well, I think I know a few of you from the letters I’ve gotten from these guys.” And he gestured to the hermits he had been talking to. “Like I know Scar and Cleo now, then TFC and Xisuma I’m familiar with, also Zedaph.”

“Yeah, so who are you exactly?” Mumbo spoke up. “While I’m glad you’ve come to celebrate Jrum’s birthday, I’m not familiar with you.”

“Right, forgot to give my name I guess.” The man started to say. “I’m-”

Grian cut him off. “You’re the Soarvivor Paul! I remember watching your shows when I was in highschool! I had some friends at my school in England who went to an event of yours!”

“Wait, this is Paul?” Scar spoke up. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about him from Doc and Bdubs.”

Paul smiled at that. “Yep, that would be me.”

Grian took over the conversation again. “So wait, you said you were recording again, are you making MvM again?”

Instead of answering happily like Paul had to everyone else, he just gave Grian a bit of a nod before giving him the cold shoulder.

“Wait, are you that uncle Phil’s always talking about?” Tommy asked. He had stayed out of the conversation when he had no clue what was going on, but now that he recognized the name, he had some things to say. “The one he always complains always uses letters instead of a phone call or texting.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, that would be me. Letters are the most reliable when you’ve got a job like mine.”

“Then stick to a comm then Paul.” Doc said, resting his arm on Paul's shoulder. “I’ve offered to make you a special one who knows how many times. I’m sure your kids wouldn’t mind it either.”

“Why do I feel like I’m still missing something?” Tommy spoke up again, Doc explaining for him.

“A number of us hung out with Paul in the past. Most of us he knows from the old Minecrack worlds, but he met Keralis on some other worlds.”

“Yeah, and met Wels when we were dealing with an apocalypse world. Beef was there too.” Paul sighed. “So Phil, what’s your family been getting up to other than the obvious?”

“Well, Tommy’s actually living in hermitcraft now.” Phil answered. “Wilbur’s getting through some things, and Techno’s trying to keep up his hardened warrior mask, but Grian’s kid is making that hard.”

“Well, this group seems to have that effect on people.” Paul nodded. “And how’ve they been doing with Xelqua?” Paul jabbed a finger on Grian’s direction.

“Right, shit, forgot to say that part. Grian is Xelqua.” Phil quickly explained, Paul’s mouth turning to a small ‘o’.

“Ah, I guess that explains that war and the hippies I heard about in letters. At least It’s a little tamer in a world like this.” Most of the people in the room were confused, and at first Grian was one of them, but then he made a connection and his legs were suddenly struggling to keep him up. “He has told you about Tokyo, right?”

Before anyone could answer, Kokatori was hissing in Grum’s arms again, drawing Paul’s attention. He pulled out a stone sword and immediately the hermits that knew Paul were holding him back. “No! Hey! Paul, that is a kid’s pet!” Bdubs said. “I know you don’t like them but that’s like the one chicken you’re not allowed to kill!”

“Just get him a pet other than a chicken! You can’t trust a chicken! They’re spies, killers and thieves.”

“Killer chickens?” Wels, who wasn’t holding Paul back, asked.

“Oh no, he’s telling the truth about that.” Doc answered. “I saw it for myself.”

“How do you get killed by a fucking chicken?” Tommy asked.

“You forget to kill it first.” Paul answered, finally putting his sword away. “Well, you said that kid’s one of Xel’s.”

“One of Grian’s.” Phil corrected. “And yes. That’s Grumbot, or Grum, the older of the two. His birthday was a week and a half ago.”

“Well, figures they’d just try causing more problems.”

Phil rolled his eyes and then grabbed Paul’s arm. “Alright, you and I. Talk. Now.”

When Phil and Paul had left the room, Grian finally allowed himself to go to the floor. The hermits that knew Paul were immediately apologizing for him, not sure why he was acting that way. But Grian knew. And Mumbo helped Grian up, pretty sure he knew too. “I’m going to help Grian lie down. Grum, maybe I should take Kokatori with me so they don’t cause more problems.”

Grum nodded and handed the chicken over, it being very upset about being moved and pecking at Mumbo’s arms. But he was too worried about Grian to let that stop him. So soon they had left the room too.

For a while, everything was silent. But then Jrum spoke up. “Well, for my birthday, I want to eavesdrop! And no one can stop me!” And he ran off to listen into Phil and Paul’s conversation, leaving the rest of the party members confused on what to do.

#hc x dsmp #hermit!tommy au #jrumbot #grian #grumbot #mumbo jumbo #philza minecraft #bdubs #3rd life smp #tommyinnit #docm77 #Keralis #Zombiecleo #ethoslab #welsknight #paul soares jr

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protecticarus · 4 years ago

Note

I didn't know I needed this until now. Prompt idea: Dirk meets Todd's parents who just assume Dirk is his boyfriend, and for fun Dirk plays along while Todd is clueless

i decided this prompt would work with a christmas setting, so here we are! i’m back!

i tweaked the prompt just slightly by making dirk “play along” unknowingly, so without realizing what todd’s parents are implying. the result however is the same mortifying ordeal for todd, amusement for everyone else and fluffy set up for the next step in dirk and todd’s relationship! i hope that’s alright!

possible tw: alcohol and some swear words.

merry christmas y’all! x

”Are you absolutely certain it’s alright for me to tag along?” Dirk asked, for maybe the 18th time that day.

”For the last time, Dirk, my parents were the ones to invite you themselves. I know you don’t know them yet, but let me tell you, my parents are the kind of people who won’t do something they don’t actually want to. So yes, Dirk, I’m absolutely certain you’re welcome to spend Christmas with me and my family this year. Now please, stop asking.” Todd explained, for what he hoped would be the last time. He kept his eyes on the road as he drove - much to Dirk’s dismay who wanted to be the one behind the wheel himself, which Todd refused to let happen, insisting that he wanted to live to see the new year - but he could practically feel Dirk furrow his brow in deep thought.

”As long as you’re sure.” Dirk finally mumbled his reply.

Todd resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ”I’m sure.” He said instead.

Dirk was uncharacteristically quiet on the drive over to Todd’s parents’ house, a fact which would normally demand all of Todd’s attention, but he was currently too nervous himself to be of much comfort to his friend. The last time Todd had seen his parents was when he told them everything. The faked pararibulitis, the real reason for him dropping out of college, the screwing his band over, the money… They had, of course, been very upset and hurt, but ultimately willing to forgive Todd. They just asked for some time, which Todd happily gave them.

That had been four months ago. Todd had talked to his parents in the meantime, on the phone and via email, but he had yet to actually spend time with them, face to face. His mother had assured him that she and Todd’s father had moved on and forgiven him. And Todd believed them. But he also knew they would like to talk about it. As soon as his parents had expressed their need for some time to think, Todd had taken the opportunity to escape the uncomfortable situation. Four months ago.

It was one thing to hash things out over email or even on the phone, but another to do so face to face. While his parents’ gesture to invite Todd’s eccentric colleague/best friend along had been made to assure Dirk didn’t have to spend Christmas alone, Todd’s relief of being able to take Dirk with him had been partly selfish. Dirk was his buffer. Any time he felt too uncomfortable, he could just use Dirk as a distraction. That, and Dirk provided Todd with comfort and support he desperately needed, a fact he was a little less willing to admit, even to himself.

Too soon for both of the men, they had arrived at Todd’s parents’ house. Todd took a deep breath after putting the car safely in park. ”Ready?” He asked the man next to him.

”No.” Came Dirk’s reply.

”Yeah, me neither.” Todd sighed. ”Let’s go.”

They both made their way to the door which was immediately flown open before either of them had the chance to even entertain the idea of ringing the doorbell.

Amanda threw her hands around her brother’s neck in a quick hug. ”Thank fuck you’re here, I’ve been alone with them for like an hour.” She said and then moved onto wrap Dirk in a quick hug of his own.

”Sorry, we left late. Dirk couldn’t decide on a tie.” Todd said.

Dirk rolled his eyes. ”Right, that and Todd pretended to have a headache and contemplated calling in sick. From Christmas.” He replied.

Amanda gave Todd a dirty look. ”Wimp.” She said.

”Shut up. Both of you.” Said Todd and finally stepped into the house with Amanda and Dirk on his heels.

As soon as they entered the house, they were met with the sharp ringing of the smoke detector.

”Guys, Todd and Dirk are here!” Amanda yelled over the alarm.

”Come in, come in!” Came the reply from the direction of the kitchen.

The trio made their way toward the voice and the alarm.

”Mom, is something on fire?” Todd asked as they entered the kitchen to see Todd’s mother surrounded by grey smoke.

”Of course not, Todd, you know that alarm is too sensitive.” Todd’s mother replied nonchalantly and took a sip of her white wine.

”Smoke detectors tend to react to smoke.” Amanda said.

”Yeah, well, a little smoke never hurt anybody.” Came the reply.

”I wouldn’t put money on that.” Amanda remarked.

Suddenly the alarm quieted down. ”Got it!” Yelled Todd’s father from somewhere in the house.

”Thanks babe!” His wife replied. Then her eyes finally landed on Dirk. ”Oh you must be Dirk! So nice to meet you honey, sorry for the smell.” She said and put down her wine glass.

”Hello Mrs. Brotzman. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Dirk replied in a nervous voice. ”I hope it’s alright that I-” He was cut off by Todd’s mother wrapping him in a surprisingly strong hug.

”The moment Todd mentioned you had no family in the States I knew we had to have you over for Christmas! Lucky us you’re not from here, huh? Gosh that accent is adorable by the way, I totally see the appeal.” She said and patted Dirk’s cheek after pulling away from the hug.

”Jesus, mom.” Todd groaned.

”T-Thank you, Mrs. Brotzman.” Dirk replied, quite taken aback by the friendly welcome.

Todd’s mother made a face like she’d smelled something bad - other than whatever had just set off the smoke detector. ”Ugh, no, Mrs. Brotzman is my mother-in-law. Please call me Jo, Joanna if I’m in trouble.” She said.

Dirk smiled and let his shoulders drop a little in relief. ”Alright. Jo, then.” He said.

Jo smiled back and patted Dirk on the shoulder. ”Good kid.”

”Who’s being a good kid? Surely not any of ours?” Said Todd’s father as he stepped into the kitchen.

”Dad…” Groaned Todd and Amanda.

Jo laughed. ”Of course not. This is Dirk.” She told her husband.

”Ah yes, how’s it going, Dirk? I’m Thomas.” He said and extended his hand to Dirk.

”It’s… Good. Going good. Thank you for having me, Mr. Brotzman.” Replied Dirk as he shook Thomas’ hand.

”Told you, it’s Thomas.” Insisted Thomas.

Dirk gave an awkward smile. ”Ah, yes, Thomas. Of course.” He said.

”Good to have you here with us, Dirk. Jo and I were just saying how it’s about damn time.” Said Thomas.

Dirk blushed. ”Why thank you, Thomas. I’m very happy to have been invited.” He said.

Todd furrowed his brow in confusion. Had he even talked about Dirk that much to his parents? In fact, he’d made the conscious effort not to, as much of Dirk was impossible to explain without explaining… Well, Dirk. So why were they so eager to meet the guy?

”Wine anyone? We can have a drink in the living room while the ham calms down.” Said Jo.

”You should know that in this house we have to hope for mom’s cooking to ’calm down’ before we attempt to eat it.” Amanda fake-whispered to Dirk.

”Oh hush you.” Said Jo. ”So we’re not a family of chefs! We have other strengths.” She added.

”I’ll drink to that.” Said Thomas while he poured himself a glass of red wine. ”Dirk, are you a red or white kind of guy?” He asked.

Dirk froze. ”Uh, I… I suppose-”

”Red, right? Cause it’s richer, more… Fruity.” Todd jumped in.

Dirk looked grateful for the interruption. ”Yes. Red, that’s right.”

”Great, I won’t be the only one emptying the bottles of red tonight! These three won’t give up the white.” Thomas said.

”That’s because it’s better.” Said Amanda.

”Here, here!” Said Jo and raised her glass in a toast.

Thomas nudged Dirk. ”They just don’t get it.” He said.

Dirk didn’t even care that he’d never actually tasted a drop of red wine, he just enjoyed the feeling of camaraderie with Todd’s father. Dirk smirked at Todd, as if to say ’look, look how well it’s going.’ Todd rolled his eyes fondly at Dirk. As he turned away, he caught his mother’s eye, who gave him a look he couldn’t quite read. It was a warm look though, similar to the teasing ones she’d given him before he revealed what an asshole he was. Todd felt his throat tighten at the warmth of the look, and quickly poured some wine down it.

”Let’s move to the living room to chat, I want to know all there is to know about you, Dirk!” Said Jo and began leading the way to the living room.

”And by all she means-” Todd began.

”All that has nothing to do with time traveling, soul swapping or alternate dimensions, I know.” Said Dirk.

Once seated around the living room - Dirk, Todd and Amanda on the couch, Jo and Thomas snuggly on an old armchair facing the couch - Jo leaned forward and gripped her glass tight. ”So, Dirk. Tell me.” She said.

Dirk blinked a few times in silence. ”Tell you…?” He questioned.

”Everything!” Jo clarified.

”How about we start with: where are you from? England?” Asked Thomas.

”Yes, England.” Dirk replied. ”Not much to say about it though, I came here when I was quite young.”

”Your parents wanted a change of scenery?” Asked Jo.

Dirk smiled awkwardly. ”Something like that.”

Todd tensed next to him, knowing the topic was nearing dangerously emotional territory for Dirk.

”Where are they now? Back in England?” Jo asked.

”Oh. Well…” Dirk began.

”Mom, this isn’t an interrogation.” Interrupted Todd.

”Of course not!” Jo exclaimed.

”I don’t think your mom meant it that way, Todd.” Thomas said and gave Todd a disapproving look.

”I know, just-” Todd sighed.

”It’s alright, Todd.” Said Dirk. ”Truth is, Jo, I haven’t seen my parents in a long time. I was told they died a while ago though. I haven’t been able to confirm it, but I don’t have a reason not to believe it to be true.” He explained vaguely.

Jo and Thomas stared at him in silence for a moment. Amanda took a rather large sip of her wine. Todd placed his hand on Dirk’s in his lap and gave it a supportive squeeze. Dirk gave him a soft smile in return.

”I’m sorry, Dirk, I didn’t know. Todd never said…” Jo finally said and gave Todd a stern look. Todd wasn’t sure why, but clearly his mother thought it should have been obvious to Todd to inform her of Dirk’s parents’ status.

”It’s quite alright, Jo. Like I said, I haven’t seen them in a long time. Since I was a boy, really. I’m quite used to being on my own.” Dirk reassured her.

”You’re not though.” Said Todd quickly. ”On your own, I mean.”

Dirk gave him a watery smile. ”No, I suppose I’m not.” He said quietly.

”Aww…” Said Jo. ”You two are so precious.” She added.

”What?” Asked Todd.

”Thank you.” Replied Dirk.

”How did you meet again? Todd’s recount was pretty vague.” Jo asked.

Todd was still trying to decipher what his mother had meant by her last comment when Dirk already went to answer the new question.

”Oh it’s quite the story, actually!” He said, his mood immediately back to chipper.

”Uh, yeah, maybe the, uh… Abridged version of the story, Dirk?” Said Todd.

Dirk turned to look at him. ”Ah.” He said at the expression on Todd’s face. ”Of course.”

Todd’s parents exchanged a look that made Todd’s ears burn for some reason.

”Well, you see, I broke into his apartment through the window.” Dirk explained.

Todd squeezed the bridge of his nose. ”Right, cause he… He got the wrong apartment.” He said.

”I did?” Asked Dirk. Todd gave him a look. ”Yes, of course I did. Stupid Dirk, always climbing through other people’s windows by accident.” He added.

”Right, so… Dirk had just moved in and he forgot his keys. And so he tried to get into his apartment through the window, only he climbed into mine, cause it’s right below his.” Todd explained.

”Yes.” Agreed Dirk. ”Precisely.”

”Wow.” Jo commented. ”What a… What do the kids say? A sweet-meet?” She asked.

Amanda snorted into her wine glass. ”A meet-cute.” She corrected her mother.

”Right!” Said Jo. ”A meet-cute!”

Todd flipped Amanda off while their mother explained the concept of ’meet-cute’ to their father.

”We had a meet-cute too, didn’t we Thomas?” Jo said after a moment.

”I suppose we did.” Replied Thomas.

As Dirk insisted on hearing the story, Todd couldn’t help but stare at his parents in stunned silence. His mother had just compared his and Dirk’s first meeting to hers and her husband’s. Todd was no holistic detective, the universe didn’t give him hunches, but he was beginning to get the creeping feeling that there was a misunderstanding between him and his parents. Dirk however didn’t seem to notice.

”How did you two meet?” Dirk asked Jo and Thomas. ”I’d love to hear the story!”

”Oh man.” Amanda laughed. ”Here we go.”

”It’s a great story!” Said Jo. ”I was in a band.”

”Like Todd!” Exclaimed Dirk.

Jo smiled knowingly. ”Yes, where do you think he got his musical talents from?” She said.

”Me, of course.” Said Thomas.

”Please, our guitar skills go way beyond your cute little bass.” Jo challenged.

”And I can drum you all under the table.” Said Amanda. ”Get on with the story, mom.”

”Right.” Jo said. ”So, I was in a band and we wanted to participate in this battle of the bands type thing at a local pub. Problem was, we were all 17, juniors in high school, and one of the requirements for signing up was to be 18 or above. So we needed someone older.” Jo explained.

”So imagine this,” Thomas jumped in, ”I’m at my locker at school and this girl, dressed in all black with crazy spiky pink hair, walks up to me and says ’you play bass or something, right?’ No introduction or nothing.” He said.

”I’m nothing if not efficient.” Remarked Jo.

”That you are, babe.” Thomas agreed. ”So I said yes. She confirmed that I was indeed 18 and before I knew it, I was in a band. A previously all girl band too, mind you.”

”Compromises had to be made.” Said Jo. ”So we had an 18-year-old to sign the form. And we rocked, hard.”

”Did you win?” Dirk asked.

”No.” Replied Thomas.

”It was rigged to high heavens!” Said Jo. ”We should have won.”

”I feel like I did win that day.” Thomas said.

”Aww,” Said Jo, ”You’re such a sap. That was the day we got together.” She added for Dirk’s benefit.

”And by ’got together’ she really means hooked up.” Amanda remarked.

”Yeah, well, it worked out.” Said Jo.

”That’s an amazing story!” Dirk agreed.

”Told ya.” Said Jo.

”Well, it’s not quite as dramatic as breaking into the other’s apartment by accident.” Thomas said.

”Yes, well, at least she didn’t throw a shoe at you.” Said Dirk and gave Todd a pointed look.

”Todd!” Exclaimed Jo.

”I thought he was a burglar, what was I supposed to do!” Todd in turn exclaimed.

”First thing I said to you was ’hi!’ What kind of burglar greets his victim!” Dirk argued.

”A bad one?” Todd remarked.

”Yet somehow you ended up working together, is that right?” Asked Thomas.

”Yeah, we work together now.” Todd confirmed.

”And what is it that you do, exactly?” Thomas asked.

”I’m a holistic detective. Todd is my assistant.” Explained Dirk.

”A holistic detective? What’s that?” Thomas asked.

Dirk was right about to leap into his ’the interconnectedness of all things’ speech as Todd jumped in. ”It’s a type of private detective. More of an… Open-minded approach than the police.” Todd explained. He could hear Amanda holding in laughter next to Dirk.

”I see. Cool.” Thomas said.

Todd took a sip of his wine, hoping his father was done with the topic of their job. There’s not much he could actually tell him about it without sounding like a crazy person.

”So, how long have you two been together exactly?” Jo asked.

Todd spit some wine back into his glass in his surprise. There it was.

On second thought, maybe they should be talking about time traveling and purple people-eaters instead. Or maybe even Todd’s fake pararibulitis.

”Almost 7 months!” Dirk told Jo.

Todd shot him an alarmed look, trying to will him to shut up, but Dirk either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

”Wow,” Said Jo, ”That’s pretty serious.”

”Oh definitely.” Dirk replied.

Todd wanted to sink into the couch, never to be found.

”How serious would you say it is, Dirk?” Asked Amanda, clearly loving the turn of events.

”Shut the fuck up, Amanda.” Todd hissed.

”Mom, Todd said ’fuck.’” Said Amanda.

”I did not raise a snitch, Amanda.” Said Jo.

”7 months, huh?” Thomas repeated, changing the subject. ”How come we haven’t met Dirk before now?”

Todd thought his skin might melt off his face based on how badly it felt like it was burning.

”Uh… I- It never came up.” He explained lamely.

”Well, I for one am so glad to meet him now. You better come back here with Todd from now on!” Jo said.

Dirk’s eyes lit up. ”Oh I would love to, Jo, thank you!” He said.

”Of course!” Jo replied. ”I don’t remember the last time Todd brought someone home.”

”Oh my god…” Todd mumbled. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

”Well, I’m very glad he brought me!” Said Dirk. ”I should have known you two would be equally as lovely as your children!” He praised.

Jo lifted her hand to rest on her heart. ”Aren’t you the sweetest! Isn’t he the sweetest, Thomas?” She said.

”Indeed.” Agreed Thomas.

Todd couldn’t tell whether Dirk was deliberately indulging his parents’ idea of them as a couple, or if he really didn’t realize that’s what he was doing. Either way, Todd felt completely ganged up on.

”As soon as Amanda said she really liked you, I knew you must be special. She’s never liked anyone Todd’s been with.” Jo said.

”Yeah, cause they were all losers.” Said Amanda. ”Which you, Dirk Gently, are not.”

”Why thank you, Amanda.” Dirk said, seemingly genuinely touched.

Todd tried to figure out where exactly this train had gone so far off the rails into Let’s All Embarrass Todd Town. He had to put an end to this.

”Dirk, join me in the kitchen, will you?” He said abruptly.

”Why?” Asked Dirk.

Todd bit his teeth together in frustration. ”I need more wine.” He said.

Dirk glanced at his own glass. ”I’ve barely touched mine though.” He said.

”Just come with me!” Todd hissed.

Dirk furrowed his brow in confusion, but nonetheless stood up and followed Todd out of the room.

”Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Jo yelled after them.

”That’s not saying much.” Thomas said, smirking.

”You wouldn’t have me any other way.” Jo countered and placed a sloppy kiss on her husband’s cheek.

”Fuck me.” Amanda huffed and finished off her wine.

As soon as Todd stepped into the kitchen, he turned around to face Dirk, who almost ran into him.

”What are you doing?” Todd asked.

”I was just going to ask you the same thing.” Said Dirk.

”I’m serious, Dirk.” Todd added.

Dirk furrowed his brow. ”I don’t know what you’re talking about, Todd.” He said.

”I’m talking about you, out there, with my parents.” Todd tried to get Dirk to understand.

”Did I do something wrong?” Dirk asked, now worried.

Todd blinked a few times. ”You really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” He finally asked.

”No?” Dirk replied.

”My parents think we’re a couple.” Todd explained.

”A couple…?”

”Dating, in a relationship, romantically involved!” Todd huffed in frustration.

Dirk looked genuinely surprised. ”They do?”

”Yes!” Todd exclaimed. ”And you’re confirming it for them!”

”I am?” Dirk asked.

”Yes! Obviously!” Said Todd.

”Are you certain, Todd?” Dirk asked.

Todd sighed. ”Jesus, Dirk, my mom basically compared us to her and my dad! And you went along with it! And Amanda, fucking Amanda… How did you not pick up on the comment about people I’ve dated in the past?” He said.

Dirk thought for a moment. ”Why doesn’t anyone use the word ’dating’, it’s all so vague.” He finally said.

”Only to you.” Todd huffed. Dirk looked annoyed and Todd felt bad. ”Sorry, I just… I wasn’t sure if you didn’t realize what was happening or if you deliberately went along with it.” He explained.

”Well, I did not. Realize or intentionally go along with it. I thought I was just making conversation.” Dirk said. ”I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He added.

Todd sighed. Now he felt like an asshole. Again. ”You didn’t.” He assured. ”I just… Sorry, I’ve just been on edge about seeing them all day and this, this misunderstanding threw me for a loop I guess. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Sorry.”

Dirk gave him a soft smile. ”It’s alright.” He said. ”I’ll pay closer attention to others’ choices of words from now on.”

”Okay.” Todd said. ”I guess I’ll just… Have to correct them. God, that’s not gonna be awkward at all.”

”Sorry.” Dirk said again.

”Stop apologizing.” Todd said and grabbed a bottle of white wine. ”Let’s just go back. I’m guessing Amanda’s in desperate need of more wine.”

They made their way back to the living room, where Jo and Amanda were engaged in a seemingly heated discussion.

”Yeah, but who in their right mind doesn’t list Bikini Kill when talking about iconic punk bands with female vocalists!” Exclaimed Amanda.

”I simply didn’t get that far-” Began Jo, only to be caught off by her husband.

”Look, the boys are back! Let’s put a pin in this discussion for now.” Said Thomas.

”Kathleen Hanna would be so disappointed, mom.” Amanda said.

”Don’t you tell me what Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill would be at me, young lady.” Countered Jo.

”Uh, anyway,” Said Todd as he and Dirk took their seats next to Amanda on the couch, who immediately grabbed the wine bottle from Todd. ”Mom, dad, I should, uh, say something.” Todd added.

”Go ahead, honey.” Jo replied encouragingly.

Todd looked briefly at Dirk for reassurance and Dirk gave him a genuine smile and an encouraging nod.

Todd took a deep breath. ”Right, so… I don’t know where our wires got crossed but, uh… Dirk- Dirk and I are not dating.” He finally said.

Jo and Thomas didn’t say anything for a moment, only stared at Todd. They briefly shifted their

gazes at Dirk, after which they settled back on looking at Todd in confusion.

”What do you mean, Todd?” Thomas asked finally.

Todd blinked a few times in silence. ”I mean… That we’re not… A couple.” He repeated.

”Since when?” Asked Jo.

”Since always?” Replied Todd.

”I’m so confused.” Said Jo.

Todd sighed. ”Look, I don’t know what the hell happened, all I know is that you got the wrong idea. We’re just friends. And, you know, colleagues.” He explained.

”Are you sure?” Asked Thomas in turn.

”Am I- Yeah, I’m sure, dad.” Assured Todd.

”Dirk?” Asked Jo.

Dirk swallowed and shifted awkwardly on the couch. ”Yes, that’s right. I’m sorry if I implied otherwise before, I didn’t… I didn’t realize we were talking about two different things.” He said.

Jo nodded, thinking. Thomas took a sip of his wine. Amanda topped off Todd’s glass.

Finally after a minute or two of silence, Jo spoke again. ”Why?”

Todd turned to look at Dirk who simply shrugged. ”Why what?” Todd asked his mother.

”Why are you not a couple?” Jo clarified. Thomas hummed approvingly at her question.

”Oh shit.” Whispered Amanda into her wine glass.

”I- What?” Asked Todd. He didn’t dare to risk looking at Dirk right now, who was blushing rather violently next to Todd.

”Well, considering everything you’ve said tonight and us misunderstanding in the first place… Why is it that we got it wrong? Why aren’t you together?” Jo explained.

”Jesus christ, mom…” Todd sighed.

”What? Why is that such a strange question?” Jo asked.

”It isn’t.” Said Thomas. ”Since we thought-”

”I know what you thought!” Huffed Todd.

”I’m really sorry to have confused you-” Dirk tried to cut in softly.

”It’s not your fault, Dirk, stop apologizing.” Todd sighed.

”Yes, but why did you?” Pressed Jo. ”Look, all I’m saying is, to me it sounds like maybe it’s not such an impossible scenario for us to have conjured up.”

Todd could practically feel Dirk freeze up next to him. Todd himself felt like running out the door and never looking back. What, had his parents not forgiven him after all and this was their revenge?

”Mom, you can’t just say stuff like that.” Todd said quietly.

”Why?” She asked.

”Because- Because you just can’t.” Todd replied.

”Because it’s not what you want?” Jo asked. ”That’s okay, you’re allowed to say that.”

”No, obviously that’s not why, I-” Todd began, before immediately cutting himself off. He couldn’t believe he’d been that stupid. His mother played him like a fiddle. He’d eaten right out of her hand.

Jo was smiling now. ”I see.” She said. Yeah, I bet you do, thought Todd. He’d reacted exactly like she’d expected him to.

”Dude…” Said Amanda.

”Shut up.” Said Todd.

”What?” Asked Dirk.

Todd sighed and covered his face with his hands. Amanda lifted Todd’s wine glass from the coffee table and removed one of his hands from his face, wrapping it around the glass. Todd lifted the glass to his lips and took a generous gulp. Amanda patted his back encouragingly.

”Todd…” Dirk said softly. ”What-”

”Dirk, can we not…” Todd mumbled into his glass.

”Why not?” Dirk asked.

”What?” Todd asked in turn, now looking at Dirk for the first time in several minutes.

”What?” Dirk repeated.

”Oh my god,” Amanda groaned, ”You’re both into each other, have been since day one, which, shocker: mom and dad figured out before they even met Dirk! So please, for the love of all that’s holy, just finally make your peace with that so that we can go eat mom’s scorched ham and get on with Christmas.” She said.

As Amanda mumbled something along the lines of this is why I don’t do relationships and sipped her wine, everyone else digested what she’d just served them.

”Well said, daughter.” Said Jo finally.

”Thank you, mother.” Replied Amanda.

”Todd,” Said Dirk, ”Is that true?”

Todd swallowed awkwardly. ”I don’t know. Is it?”

”Jesus, do I need to do everything for you?” Asked Amanda.

”No, you shut up now. And maybe have a glass of water.” Said Todd quickly. Amanda flipped him the bird.

Jo stood up. ”I’ll go see if the ham’s calmed down. Amanda, come get a glass of water.” She said.

”I’m 24 goddamn years old…” Amanda mumbled as she followed her mother out of the room, her father on her heels.

Thomas shot a quick thumbs up at Todd and Dirk before disappearing into the kitchen behind his wife and daughter. Todd rolled his eyes.

”So.” Said Dirk.

”So.” Repeated Todd.

”Is this going to be one of those things we just don’t talk about, or…?” Asked Dirk carefully.

Todd sighed. ”As much as I want to say yes,” He said, ”It probably shouldn’t be, right?”

”Right.” Agreed Dirk.

Neither of them said anything more.

Finally Todd groaned. ”I suck at this.”

Dirk chuckled. ”Well, I’ve never done this before, so, I can only assume that so do I.”

Todd laughed too and turned to look at Dirk. ”Did… Did Amanda have a point? And- And my parents for that matter.” He said, his voice much softer now, insecure.

”Yes.” Dirk replied immediately. ”Well, I mean… I hope so.” He added.

”Yeah?” Todd asked.

”Yes.” Dirk assured him.

”Okay. I mean… Yeah, me too.” Todd said.

”Really?” Dirk asked.

”Yeah, really.” Todd said.

Todd could’ve sworn he’d never seen Dirk smile brighter. It sort of made his stomach hurt.

”Maybe…” Todd said. ”Maybe we could talk about that more, you know, when we’re not in my parents’ house?”

Dirk nodded eagerly. ”I’d like that.” He said.

Todd smiled. ”Cool.” He said.

Dirk took a deep breath and let it out in a sort of relieved laugh. ”I just- I thought perhaps it was just me and that it would be horribly inappropriate if I-” He tried to explain.

Todd was hit with a strange mix of relief and guilt. He was relieved that Dirk seemed to be on the same page with him, despite Todd having never had the balls to even entertain the idea that he might be. Todd also felt guilty, because apparently Dirk had been convinced he couldn’t talk to Todd about this. Todd had made such strict rules for himself when it came to Dirk and any acknowledgement of any possible feelings regarding Dirk, that it had come across as totally unapproachable.

As if Dirk could read Todd’s mind, he added: ”That’s not your fault though.”

Todd sighed. ”I sort of have a history of not communicating what I’m really thinking.” He said.

Dirk smiled. ”Touché.”

”I’ll try harder from now on. Promise.” Todd said.

Dirk nodded. ”Okay.” He said. After a moment he continued. ”In the spirit of saying what we’re really thinking… I feel the need to say that this is perhaps the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

Todd smiled. ”Yeah? I’m sort of a fan myself.” He said and took Dirk’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

Dirk looked down at their joined hands in wonder. Then he looked up at Todd with an expression that made Todd simultaneously want to look away and personally thank both his parents and Amanda for provoking this moment.

”Good news and bad news boys!” Amanda’s voice broke the moment. ”Good news: dinner is ready! Bad news: the ham didn’t totally burn so we still have to eat it!”

”You’ll eat it and you’ll like it or I’m cutting you off from wine!” Jo’s reply could be heard.

”Scratch that! Mom’s ham is the eighth wonder of the world!” Amanda backtracked.

”Damn right it is!” Said Jo.

Todd rolled his eyes as Dirk laughed.

”Wanna go pretend my mom can cook and answer more uncomfortable questions?” Todd asked.

Dirk grinned. ”Lead the way.”

They entered the kitchen, still hand in hand. ”I hear the ham’s somewhat edible after all?” Todd asked.

His mother turned to them. ”Of course it is! Everything’s going exactly to plan.” She said. Her eyes fell to their joined hands and she gave Todd the warmest of smiles.

”Smells great, babe.” Said Thomas. ”Sit down, everyone.” He added.

Once seated, Jo turned to Todd and Dirk again. ”So,” She said, ”Dirk, any plans for Easter?” She asked.

Dirk laughed, blushing. ”Not that I know of.” He said.

”We do an egg hunt, Brotzman style.” Said Todd. ”You’ll love it.”

Dirk smiled at him. ”Yeah?”

Todd smiled back. ”Yeah.”

Jo clapped. ”Welcome to the family, Dirk!” She exclaimed.

”Mom…” Todd warned, but his warning lacked conviction.

Thomas raised his glass in a toast. ”To Todd and Dirk!”

Jo raised hers in turn. ”To my match-making!”

Todd raised his glass. ”Fuck you all.” He said.

Amanda raised her already half empty glass. ”And to all, a goodnight!” She exclaimed.

Everyone laughed before taking a sip of their respective drinks.

The ham turned out to be surprisingly good, which didn’t stop Amanda from making jokes. Dirk did his best to hide his shock at what red wine actually tasted like and got Todd to finish his glass while he himself moved onto water. After a pleasant meal accompanied by lively conversation, Thomas talked Jo and Todd into playing the guitar while the rest of them sang Christmas songs. Well, Thomas did. Amanda drummed on the table and switched the lyrics to the parody ones from her childhood. Dirk didn’t know the songs to begin with, but that didn’t stop him from trying to sing along. Todd had to stop playing at one point because he was laughing so hard at the lyrics that came out of Dirk’s mouth when he tried to anticipate what Thomas would sing next. Jo and Amanda both agreed that Dirk’s lyrics were much more interesting than the original ones.

When his mother pulled him aside after their impromptu caroling, Todd remembered to be nervous about having to talk about the other elephant in the room. In the end, Jo only wanted to apologize for putting him on the spot earlier. She also said she was so happy to see him again after months, which said all that needed to be said. Todd knew they’d have to talk more in depth about his years of lying, but tonight was not for that. Tonight was for family, strange cooking, bad singing and good company.

If his parents shot him entirely too knowing looks when Todd stole a kiss from Dirk under the mistletoe later in the night, he didn’t notice. All Todd saw was the slow falling of snow outside the window and the blinding smile on Dirk’s face.

if you have ideas for fics, send me prompts! my inbox is always open! x

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almostnugget · 4 years ago

Text

Game Night

Julie and the Phantoms x Platonic!Reader

Maybe storms and power outages aren’t so bad when you have your friends around to keep you safe.

Warnings: Thunderstorms...? None, otherwise

A/N: this is so self-indulgent, it’s unbelievable, but ya know what? write what you want to see and this is what i want to see!! also: my first time writing for jatp publicly, oop. also: we love julie molina in this house, don’t be a coward

To say you hung out at the Molina’s house more than your own would be somewhat of an understatement.

You’ve been a good friend of Julie’s for awhile now and you spend most of your time there. Not to say you don’t necessarily want to spend time at home, you’ve just always found the company of friends more enjoyable and Mr. Molina’s always more than accommodating—a friend of Julie’s is a friend of the family’s.

“What’d you get for number four?” Julie asks, glancing up from her pile of papers to look at you perched on the end of her bed.

“England,” you hum.

Julie taps her glittery pencil to her paper. “Y/N, we’re doing Calculus.” Your eyes dart away from the window you’ve been staring out of to finally glance down at your paper—and the numbers that litter it.

“Right. Sorry,” you breathe, both of you emitting light laughter. “It’s just...it’s raining kind of hard out there.” Julie follows your gaze to notice the rain pattering against the glass, each droplet with more force than the last.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to thunder later,” she adds. Her tone is casual as she shifts in her spot, returning to her work. There’s a moment as you stay still, eyes watching the rain, before Julie seems to notice. “Are you okay?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you nod your head. “Yeah, yeah. Just distracted.” You drum your fingers anxiously against her knee and Julie’s eyes narrow as she watches. “Should I...head home? Is the storm going to get that bad?”

“We might lose power, but you know you can still stay if you want. If not, I guess my dad could drive you home...” She trails off as she shrugs. The anxiety radiating off of you is almost enough to combat Alex. “I never knew you didn’t like thunderstorms.”

You furrow your brows, eyes darting back to Julie. “I never said that,” you defend and you see the confusion written on her face. ��I don’t mind them. They sound calming and the grass after a storm smells nice, but the electricity and the claps of thunder...” You shudder. “I guess it makes me...nervous.”

Julie raises a brow. “‘Nervous’ how?”

“It’s dark. And also quiet, but way too loud at the same time. It’s confusing, and what? I’m just supposed to...wait for it to be over?” You shrug suddenly, shaking your head. The papers in your lap beg for your attention. “I can’t explain it, I don’t know. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Julie’s quiet for a moment. She carefully watches as you force yourself to focus on the homework in front of you despite the incessant noise just outside. “If you say so,” she settles finally. Her eyes linger on your uneasy form before she too finally returns to her homework.

You two work for awhile longer, trading answers and asking questions back and forth until you’re both done. “Now that that’s finished!” Julie sighs triumphantly, pushing her notebooks off her lap.

She gets to her feet, moving to put everything back in its place while you just stuff your things back into your nearby schoolbag. It’s about as much cleaning as you can do.

“Why don’t we head to the studio?” Julie asks. The question comes out suddenly, making you sit up and furrow your brows. As far as you are concerned, you two were just going to loiter around the house until you inevitably shuffled home. “Come on, we can hang out with the guys.”

Of course, with knowing Julie came knowing the guys. After their performance at the Orpheum, you were able to see them and touch them too—so long as Julie was present. You were already close before you could see them, so the friendship only increased tenfold after.

You’re just confused because Julie wasn’t always known for her spontaneity and this feels awfully spontaneous.

“Yeah, sure,” you decide with a nod. Confusion aside, you aren’t going to pass up an opportunity to spend time with your friends.

Julie breaks into a smile. “Great! Why don’t I get my dad to make us some hot chocolate and then we’ll head over?”

You can’t stifle your gasp. “You mean...Ray Molina’s Famous Hot Chocolate?”

“Yes, that hot chocolate,” Julie agrees with a soft laugh and a playful eye roll. You laugh yourself, getting to your feet to follow Julie downstairs.

After the hot chocolate’s made and put into some travel mugs, the two of you make the daring race to get to the studio in the rain.

It isn’t as effective as either of you hope, but you’re both clutching your sides with laughter when you finally set foot in the garage.

“Uh...you guys are soaked,” Alex observes instantly, gesturing towards the pair of you with the drumsticks in his grasp.

Before anyone can say much else, Reggie’s eyes light up. “What is that?” He asks, looking toward the colorful mugs you both hold. “Is that...hot chocolate? It smells like hot chocolate.”

“Yeah,” Julie answers, wiping a hand over her face before she takes the jacket that Luke tosses her way. “I got my dad to make us some.”

“It’s delicious, by the way,” you quickly add, raising the cup to your lips to have a swig. The liquid’s nearly scalding, but you’re still dripping wet so it’s a welcome warmth. You make an over exaggerated ‘Ah’ sound just to tease the ghosts that can not eat or drink.

“What are you guys even doing?” Luke asks. He’s up in the loft and you narrowly miss the blanket he throws at your head. “I thought you were studying.”

“Well, we finished,” Julie responds, walking towards the couch with you on her heels. She sets her mug down, shrugging on the jacket she’s been given to make up for the rain. “And now we’re going to hang out. Because that’s what friends do.”

As you sit down, cradling your drink with both hands, you miss the pointed look all the boys receive and the subtle nod Julie gives them as she gestures towards you.

“Right! We’ll hang out...like friends do!” Alex says in a hurry. His stilted tone makes you squint up at him. “What are we doing exactly?”

A clap of thunder outside makes you jump suddenly and your grip on your mug tightens. You ignore the sudden hammering in your chest as you sink back against the couch, adjusting the blanket on your shoulders.

“We have a song!” Reggie exclaims, looking from Alex to Luke up on the loft. “We could show it to Y/N, right?”

“I think that’s a great idea!” Julie agrees, sending her bandmate a smile before she shifts to face you. “What do you say? Want to be the first to hear a new Julie and the Phantoms song?”

The corners of your lips can’t help but tug into a smile. “Some me what you got,” you say, a slight shrug accompanying your words.

With that, your four friends waste little time before giving you an impromptu performance. It goes as expected with the four of them leaving you in awe of their talent. Even still, pride swells in your chest at the thought of everything they’ll be able to accomplish together.

“It’s not finished,” Luke explains as they finish, the last few notes of Julie’s keyboard lingering in the air. “That last riff—”

“Was awesome,” you cut in, letting out a scoff. “You guys always rock. If that’s not finished, it’ll blow people away when it is.”

“Sweet,” Reggie says, reaching over to fist bump Alex in celebration. The gesture makes you laugh and fondly shake your head.

Julie shifts on her bench to face you better. “Thanks,” she tells you, smiling brightly, “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Before you can say more, there’s another clap of thunder and, like an extinguished candle, the lights go out with an inaudible pop.

You can’t help but jump back, before your shoulders fall. “And now the electricity’s out,” you sigh, pulling your blanket close. Your eyes will adjust, but for now, you can’t even really see Julie or the guys. There’s only so much moonlight shining in through the windows to illuminate the room and a pit forms in your stomach.

“Luke, there’s some flashlights up in the loft,” Julie calls out and before she can finish her thought, you recognize the sound of Luke clambering up the stairs.

For awhile, you can just vaguely hear him rifling around. “Luke?” Alex asks, sounding just a bit confused. “Did you get lost?”

“Dude, it’s dark,” Luke emphasizes from up above. Despite the situation, you manage a laugh. Then you hear a triumphant gasp from above. “Got ‘em!” On cue, you hear a click and Luke’s shining a flashlight down from the loft. “Am I supposed to bring all of them...?”

“...yes?” Julie answers like it’s supposed to be obvious.

It takes Luke a moment more before he returns with a armful of flashlights. Julie pulls a battery-powered lantern from his arms, clicks its switch, and sets it on the coffee table. Thankfully, despite its size, it does well to light the studio and you feel an invisible weight lift off your shoulders.

“There,” Julie breathes, before grabbing another flashlight. “I’m going to run and check on my dad and Carlos. And tell them we’re okay.”

“You’re going back out there?” Reggie wonders, raising his eyebrows in subtle surprise. Julie chuckles, waving her flashlight at him.

“I’ll be okay.” You watch as she starts toward the door, and it’s like she can feel your eyes on her because she turns back. “There should be some board games laying around if you guys want to play some when I get back.”

With that, she opens the garage door. The small building is hurriedly filled with the sounds of the pouring rain outside before Julie pulls the door shut behind her and you’re plunged back into silence.

“So,” Alex starts, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes fall on you. “Board games?”

You contemplate it for just a moment before a small smile pulls at your lips. “Board games.”

The four of you split up, rummaging around in search of any board—or card—games. Reggie stops near instantly, instead gathering up blankets and pillows to throw on the floor so you’ll have a comfortable space to play.

By the time Julie returns, you’ve found just about anything you could get your hands on. Operation may need batteries and Candyland might be missing a piece or two, but you’ve got it.

The night quickly devolves into a haphazard time for board games.

“Julie—” Luke starts, staring at her imploringly over the board game in between all of you. “Please.”

Julie arches a brow and extends a hand. “Fork it over.”

“But I don’t have $150!”

Your laughter quickly fills the studio as you watch the exchange. You tried to warn Luke that Julie was not to be trifled with and he was in over his head, but he didn’t seem to think so.

Julie is unwavering. “Should’ve watched where you landed,” she retorts, eyes falling on Luke’s silver battleship atop Pennsylvania Avenue.

Luke throws his arms into the air, clearly in dismay. “Julie—”

“$150,” she repeats sternly and Luke sighs. He’s grumbling to himself as he sifts through his owned properties, choosing one to inevitably mortgage. Alex just knowingly shakes his head at the events unfolding.

Reggie blows out a sigh, setting his hands atop his knees. “Capitalism.”

The night continues on for what feels like hours. You realize you can only continue to lose to Alex in Clue so many times. Though, you can always watch Luke go bankrupt.

Before too long, you’re all laying on the floor in a heap. The lantern and every flashlight’s turned off. The moon outside’s the only illumination you’ve got, but your heart remains quiet.

Julie’s head is in the crook of your neck and you think one of Alex’s arms is thrown over your waist. Reggie’s legs are haphazardly tangled with yours and Luke’s bent at an awkward angle to insert himself in between all of you. It can’t be comfortable.

Yet blissful noise fills the air. You’re all tiredly giggling about everything and nothing at all.

“You’re all so loud,” Alex groans into a pillow, sending you all into another bout of laughter. “That’s not helping!” He lets out a muffled shriek before he lifts his head to glare at Luke in the dark. “Did you just kick me?”

“I don’t know, but he needs to get his elbow out of my hip,” Julie complains, though her voice is half-muffled by your shoulder.

“And mine,” Reggie pipes up and you can only vaguely understand Luke’s defense as you begin to succumb to sleep.

When you finally wake up, sunlight is streaming into the studio and you’re able to see that the lights are back on as well.

You lay still, everyone asleep around you. Their breathing is quiet, but even, and it’s here—in their overbearing embrace—you feel calm.

Sighing, you stare up at the ceiling and let yourself enjoy this moment of peace. Luke is snoring, or maybe it’s Reggie—perhaps both, but you’re content all the same. Alex is mumbling incoherently beside you and Julie shifts every so often, making you smile softly to yourself.

You know they did this, all of this, just for you. They weren’t as subtle as they hoped, but it doesn’t matter. Your heart is warm all the same as you shut your eyes and let yourself fall back to sleep.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #jatp imagine

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ohsnapcracklepopfriends · 3 years ago

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Here it is friends. Part one of my Taylor-Swift-nostalgia induced carraville fic. I will be writing a short part two but I figured I’d get this up now and it could be read on its own at this point. I haven’t proof read it so please excuse any mistakes but I hope you enjoy!

Jamie undid his tie. It was a plaid tie, blue instead of red to suggest his neutrality. It was a good day or at least it should’ve been. Liverpool beat Everton two to one, he’d had a good show (no one was harassing him on Twitter yet and Gary had made a few mistakes, Jamie thought that qualified a pretty good show), and he had a date at eleven. He should be fucking buzzing but Jamie just feels the idle hum of numbness. Even the five-goal thriller that was their first game of the night hadn’t got his heart pumping like it used to.

Gary walked in silently, startling Jamie who quickly pulled on a jumper. Not that his state of dress mattered, Gary’s eyes stayed glued to the floor. He walked to the far corner of the dressing room to change out of his suit, as far away from Jamie as possible. He hadn’t said a word to Jamie all night when the cameras weren’t rolling. It hurt. Especially when Gary was so good at acting like everything was fine when the commercial break ended. He even fooled Jamie a few times.

Kelly knocked on the door, making sure they were both decent, before walking in to say goodnight. Jamie watched as Gary smiled at Kelly, as he laughed with her about something. Jamie used to do that: make Gary laugh. Kelly turns her attentions to Jamie. She compliments him on his interview tonight and asks him where he and Tom are going for their date.

“It’s quite late,” she comments, “you can’t really be going to dinner.” Jamie give her a fake laugh.

“I’ve got a reservation and everything Kells. We’re going to that new vegan place. He’s picking me up.” You heard that right: vegan. Because on top of everything, Tom fucking cared about animals and the environment. Jamie wasn’t complaining too much, though. He could suffer through some tofu if it meant not having to go to Gary and his old haunts.

“Ooh!” Kelly said, “do I get to meet him? Redknapp keeps talking about how lovely he is, I figure I could judge for myself.” Ah, yes, Redders. Running into Redders had been an accident. They managed to bump into him at the golf course the week before. Tom was good at golf, unlike Redders, as much as he tried to be. Tom gave him a few pointers, helping Redders fix his posture for his swings. They ended up playing a whole round together while Jamie played ping-pong with an eight-year-old girl in the clubhouse. Redders hadn’t shut up about how Tom’s wonderfulness and his perfect swing since. Jamie nodded at Kelly. He figured he couldn’t do any more damage.

The three of them stood in the parking lot waiting for Tom’s car to pull in. He wasn’t late of course, he never is, they just got out earlier than anticipated. Gary had tried to skitter off to his car but Kelly practically dragged him back up on the curb. Gary, despite trying to put on an agreeable face, looked about as miserable as Jamie felt. Jamie thought he was slightly better at hiding it though.

At 10:59 Tom’s blue Volkswagen pulled in. One minute early. He wore a nice checked shirt with the first few buttons undone. His hair and shirt were miraculously crisp and clean after a full day of work. He looked like a fucking god with his symmetrical face, sharp bone structure, and straight nose. Kelly certainly took note of that. “Our Carra is a lucky man!” She whispered before going over to Tom to introduce herself. Tom shook her hand and complimented her dress which, to be fair, was a very nice floral pattern.

Tom stuck his hand out for Gary to shake. “Hello Gary, my name’s Tom. It’s nice to meet you.” Gary takes a minute to collect himself and takes Tom’s outstretched hand giving it a firm shake.

“It’s nice to meet you as well.” It sounds remarkably fake, of course it does, but Tom doesn’t seem to notice. He just turns towards Jamie with a perfect smile.

“You have such lovely friends, Jamie. It was nice to meet you both.” Jamie wasn’t so sure about that but played along and let Tom walk him to the car. Tom opened Jamie’s door for him before walking around to get in himself. He saw Kelly sling an arm around Gary’s shoulders as they drove away. Jamie took a deep breath and remembered it was all for the best. He reminded himself that this was what he wanted: stability. He didn’t want to fight anymore. The words Gary had said that night still rung in his ears. He was sure his own snarls were not forgotten either.

It started to rain as they parked but Tom had an umbrella. Gary never had an umbrella. You’d think that living in Manchester he’d learn to at least keep one in his car. Instead, he resorted to sprinting away from the rain as fast as he could trying to avoid the rain, he wasn’t as fast as he used to be. But Tom was prepared, he always was. He held the umbrella for the both of them as they walked around to the front of the restaurant.

“James, try the torte it’s quite delicious.” Jamie hated being called James. Absolutely hated it. Not when Gary said it though. His stupid manc accent stretched the vowels into velvet. When Gary said it he felt special. Tom’s polished London accent made him feel posh, pretentious, and twatty. James. Ugh. It was like the word torte. It’s a fucking cake, just call it what it is. Jamie took a bite of the torte. It was good if you ignored the aftertaste of soya in the frosting, a little dry, but Jamie nodded his head like it was an orange mcflurry. He let Tom finish the dessert.

They’re in the car. Tom’s dropping Jamie off at his apartment. Tom must have noticed that Jamie had been quiet and switched the topic to something a little more in his wheelhouse: football. They were talking about England and possible squads for the upcoming international break. Tom started talking about moving Kyle Walker into midfield and Jamie couldn’t take it.

“That’s bollocks. Where is the one place on the field where we actually have players? Fucking midfield. Gareth’s drowning in defenders but not experienced ones. Playing Walker in midfield fucking undermines Henderson and leaves the young centrebacks overexposed.” Tom laughs for some reason. Jamie doesn’t find it funny.

“Well, you would certainly know.” This is what you want, he reminds himself again. Peace, calm, stability. This is happiness. But, fuck, Jamie missed Gary. He missed the challenge. He missed the little crease between Gary’s eyes. He missed Gary’s squeaky voice when he gets worked up. He missed fighting and bickering with Gary over things that didn’t matter. He missed screaming at Gary and Gary screaming back. He missed the really hot sex they’d have after such screaming matches, making Gary scream in a different, more satisfying way. He missed Gary’s laugh, his smile. It seemed to Jamie that neither of them have smiled much since that day. Jamie thought that smiling didn’t seem worth it if Gary wasn’t smiling back.

Jamie checked his phone. It was nearing 1 am. He had a handful of messages from Kelly. Jamie didn’t want to read about how great she thought Tom was, he fucking knew that Tom was great. On paper, he was fucking perfect. The perfect boyfriend. The dream guy. Not for Jamie though. He dreamed of an angry, passionate, crazy, wonderful manc. He opened his messages anyways though, figuring Tom would want to hear what Kelly thought about him.

Jamie. I know you’re on your date but we need to talk. Can you call me? It’s about Gaz. The first one read.

He’s at mine. Really upset. He said not to talk to you so I figure you know what’s going on. That sounded about right. Kelly caring more about Gary’s well being than Gary himself. Gary was too stubborn to care.

Call me please. The last one read. Fuck. They’d made a mess of things. Not only had they made a mess of themselves, but they’d also dragged the others into it.

“Can you pull into that park up there?” Jamie asked Tom. He nodded and turned down the radio, waiting for Jamie to say something more. He didn’t though. Not until he got out of the car and puked some partially digested salad in the grass. Tom came over to him and rested his palm on Jamie’s mid back. Gary used to pet his hair, carding his fingers through it, on those mornings after he’d had a little too much to drink.

Jamie laid on his back in the middle of the parking lot. The rain soaked through his thin shirt in seconds. Tom looked down at him concerned. “I can’t do this, Tom. You’re so lovely. I mean you’re so fucking lovely but I just can’t—”

“I get it, James. You’re still in love with him.” The bastard still looked perfect even drenched with rain. Jamie guessed that he probably looked like a drowned rat. Jamie must have been giving him a confused look because he laughed and explained further. “I saw the way you used to look at him on the tele like he’s the fucking sun. I saw the way you looked at him tonight like being around him was tearing you apart. Besides, I’m pretty sure half the nation knew there was something going on there.” Jamie laughed at that. They had been pretty obvious. And not just Gary, apparently. Apparently, he was just as open of a book. He needed to call Kelly.

She picked up after three rings. “Hi Carra,” she whispered, “needed to get out of the living room, Gaz’s sleeping on my couch.”

“Is he okay?” Jamie asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“He’s a wreck, Jamie. He misses you.” I miss him too, Jamie didn’t say, so much.

“Can I come round?” Jamie asked. Kelly said yes so long as Jamie can get Gary the hell out of her living room and gave Carra her address.

Thankfully, Kelly’s place was nearby, about a mile away. Jamie didn’t know where he got the energy considering he was dead on his feet a few minutes before, but he ran there as fast as he possibly could. His water-filled shoes squished loudly with every step. He got there in seven minutes and was panting heavily when he knocked on the door. Kelly let him in wordlessly.

Gary was still sleeping on the couch when he walked into the living room. Kelly gave him a nod and walked into the kitchen. Jamie kneeled next to Gary and cupped his cheek with his palm. Jamie hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that simple feeling. Gary’s forehead was still crinkled in his sleep. His eyes were dark like he hadn’t slept much. Jamie hadn’t either. It was hard to sleep alone, without Gary’s comforting weight on his chest. Jamie took Gary’s hand from where it was tucked under his chin and intertwined their fingers. The weight of Gary’s hand in his set relief running through Jamie’s body. Gary started to stir at that.

“James?” Jamie smiles at that. His stupid name sounds beautiful coming from Gary’s mouth. His eyes weren’t even open yet and Gary already knows it’s him. “What are you doing here?” He opened his eyes slightly but upon seeing Jamie they were wide open. Gary’s eyes were red and bloodshot. Jamie just wanted to yank him into his arms and hug him forever.

“What are you doing here, you muppet? Bothering Kelly at 2 am?” Jamie said playfully. Gary flushed slightly. “Come on, Gaz. Let’s get you home.” He grabbed Gary’s hand to pull him up. Gary stumbled when he tried to take a step. Carra looked down at the empty beer bottles and figured that was why. He grabbed Gary’s arm and slung it over his shoulder. Gary’s head rested in the crook of Jamie’s neck, his soft breathing tickling at the skin there.

“Kelly,” Jamie called softly into the kitchen, “we’re leaving.” She came out to stand in the doorway in her fluffy, pink bunny slippers that Jamie had somehow not noticed before. Jamie thought he should get Gary a pair.

“Set an alarm,” she said, “he wakes up early. Don’t let him bolt.” Jamie figured Gary wouldn’t be racing out of his apartment at 5 am with the hangover he was sure to have but it was still a good idea. Gary was an unpredictable, stubborn bastard at times. Jamie thanked her and helped Gary down to his car.

It was still pouring when they got out of the building because clearly the gods wanted Gary to either sober up or catch his death. Thankfully, in his upset Gary had forgotten to lock the car meaning Carra didn’t have to fumble around for his keys in the current weather. Except, that Gary wouldn’t get into the car. He sprawled his limbs over the door so Jamie couldn’t push him inside.

“Gary, if you don’t get your arse in that car, I’m going to leave you out here to drown.” Obviously, he wasn’t serious but he figured that Gary might be drunk enough not to know that. Gary just smiled up fondly at him and stayed put.

“I love you,” he said, looking like the most radiant, beautiful thing Jamie had ever seen in his life. His hair was a mess, stuck down to his forehead. His cheeks were bright red from a mix of alcohol and the cold. His eyes were still red but god they held all the love in the world. Jamie could see that somehow, after everything, Gary still loved him, truly loved him. After all the things he said, screamed, did, this man--this beautiful man--still loved Jamie every ounce as much as Jamie loved him. It didn’t matter what he should want, he wanted Gary and all of his adorable, infuriating flaws. His recipe to happiness was just that: his own. He didn’t need stability, calm, peace. He needed to feel something.

Jamie cupped his face for the second time that night. He ran his thumb over Gary’s wet, stubbly cheeks. Jamie couldn’t help himself. He kissed Gary with all of the kisses they’d missed in the past two months. The two months of pain, loneliness, desolation. He kissed Gary with all of the love he had in his cold, wet body and Gary did the same. Gary moved slower than Jamie, less frantically but no less enthusiastically. Gary clutched at his jacket like a vice, unwilling to let go. Jamie moved his hands around Gary’s body. He wanted to make sure that everything was still as he remembered it. And it was. Of course, it was. He had Gary in his arms, it didn’t matter that the rain had picked up. Though, he was sure he’d hear about the soggy interior of Gary’s car in the morning. He pulled away reluctantly for breath and rested his forehead against Gary’s.

#carraville #jamie carragher #gary neville #thank you taylor for the inspiration #very loosely inspired by the way I loved you #my fic

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