#i guess i had some good christmases when i was tiny so i still hope each year itll be a time when the horrors take a break like they used to | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wellhellotragic · 4 years ago

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Hiraeth

Summary: Emma’s life had always been carefully curated for her as the daughter of a Navy Admiral. To follow in her mothers footsteps: meet and marry a suitable husband and be the best wife possible. But what she hadn’t expected was for her father to be reassigned halfway around the world to Egypt, and she certainly had never expected to meet and fall in love with a man so opposed to everything her father stood for...

A/N: Well, @shireness-says, I guess it’s finally time to reveal myself. Hope having me as your @cssecretsanta2020 isn’t too disappointing. I think I managed to get 90% of your wish list tucked into this little monster. I hope you have the most wonderful of Christmases this year!

Hiraeth: A homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was. Grief for a loss, something you can never have again.

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She hears a crackling noise coming from the next room, the oversized fireplace recently stoked with with wood, and even in its muffled state through the doorway, it brings a calmness to the home. Winters in London have always been chilly, but this one is by far the most brutal that Emma can remember and the snow piling up outside has brought transportation to a halt as the cobblestone roads give no grip to passing carriages. She briefly considers taking a few sips of the bottle of brandy she has hidden in the back of the cupboard to warm her, but considering the small child playing with her doll in the great room, Emma decides against, choosing to boil some water instead.

It’s strange, being in the house, just the two of them after all this time. Stranger yet celebrating a family holiday without the entire family, but such is life. She will allow herself to cry tonight once the child is safely tucked into her bed with a story told. She will allow herself to grieve for the man not sleeping at her side and the chill that’s taken hold of his side of the mattress. For the quietness of the home, but for now, she’s going to smile and tell her daughter a tale of Father Christmas.

The kettle begins to whistle, taking Emma by surprise, having lost track of the time in her wistfulness. Quickly she composes herself and sets about mixing up two cups of cocoa, complete with whipped cream and a generous dusting of cinnamon on top for good measure. Always with the cinnamon.

She places both cups on a small wooden tray, adding in some biscuits, before taking the tray into the living room. There, she finds the small girl playing a game of imaginary flight. The girl has named the doll Wendy, based on some fairytale she’d been told at school. One retold to her by a classmate whose father spun such tales for a living.

“Fly Wendy, you must believe. You simply must!”

“What must she believe, my Poppet?” Emma can’t help but chuckle at the earnestness of her daughter’s words.

“Oh, it’s quite simple really. She has to believe in the magic for it to work so she can fly.”

“Ah, well maybe she just needs some cocoa to help her outlook. What do you say?”

The young girl nearly tossed her doll in the air in her haste to run to the table where her mother has set the tray. Tiny fingers move at nearly impossible speed and it’s all Emma can do to prevent her from burning her mouth again.

“Careful, it’s still warm, you must take care to blow on it, sweetheart.”

The little girl rolls her eyes before nearly sinking her face into the whip cream, catching a dollop on her nose as she blows. Giggles fill the room and Emma’s heart begins to warm just a bit.

“Mummy, Theo told me that cinnamon on cocoa was wrong. That it doesn’t belong.”

“And what did you say in return?”

“Well, I told him that he was silly of course.”

Emma laughed. Her daughter has inherited so much of her father in physical appearance, but tucked away inside the girl, Emma often finds her own spirit.

“Have I ever told you the story of how I came to use cinnamon on my cocoa?”

The little girl shakes her head as she takes a sip of her now cooled drink.

“Well, then, where should I begin?” Emma smiles wistfully before continuing. “Once upon a time…”

_____________________________________

1881 Port of Alexandria, Egypt

She’d been sick since the day they’d left London, never having experienced the open waters before. She’d been on boats a handful of times as a child with her father, yet they’d never had the occasion to leave their position in the berth and weeks at sea had taken their toll. Emma, like a handful of others unaccustomed to the waves, had taken ill, turning nearly green in the face. Most of the men aboard had served in her Majesty's Navy for years, making such simple work of setting about the ship with ease. Emma envied them that, having spent nearly every day in her room sick over a bucket.

Her only solace was the blaring horn of her father’s ship alerting them that they’d finally arrived at their destination. Leaving London hadn't been easy, saying goodbye to so many of her friends. To the only home she’d ever lived in. Her mother told her to think of it as an adventure, reminding her constantly that it wasn’t a house that made a home. It was family. But Emma and her mother had experienced very different upbrings.

And the idea of moving to Egypt had been off putting. She’d been warned of the heat and the impoverished people. The less than ideal sanitary situation had also been worrisome. It was only at the insistence of her father and that Emma was able to avoid hesitation all together.

But that was then, before her family drug her nearly kicking and screaming halfway across the world to an entirely different continent. She didn’t know much about Egypt other than the English had recently begun to colonise it to ensure the protection of monetary interest. She knew even lesser still about Alexandria. An oasis of sorts her father had said, situated between the Nile and the new Suez Canal, producing some of the most fertile land in the country, which was also the very reason they were there. To protect more than the land the Queen now laid claim to, but to ensure safe passage for the ships returning to England from India.

“Emma, sweetheart, are you coming?”

Emma looked up to find her mother’s head poking in through the doorway, cheerful as always. “We really mustn’t dotile, it wouldn’t make for a good first impression.”

“Of course, we couldn’t possibly be late,” she mocked as she rolled her eyes, trying to find a place to stow her recently used bucket. Heaven forbid they ever step one toe out of line. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the importance of her father’s role as a Rear-Admiral and how important it was to keep up the image of the perfect family, but for Emma, it meant everything had to be just so. No creases in her dresses, no new fashions that were considered too provocative as they may have shown the slightest hint of skin around the reduced neckline. It also meant that every moment of her day must have been accounted for.

It wasn’t as if she had a rebellious streak, but she longed to have any semblance of autonomy in her own life. But that wasn’t the life she was destined for. Instead, she was expected to find a suitable husband of good social standing and wealth, and to bear his children. To provide for him in any way necessary and to see only to his happiness. So many of her friends had been all too eager to accept marriage proposals from men that ill fitted their personalities just for the sake of not being labeled a spinster.

At nearly twenty one, Emma had already pushed the boundaries, having recently turned down a marriage proposal from the son of the Admiral of the Fleet, a reason she strongly believed had led to the sudden reassignment of her father. Neal’s father had always stuck her as a horribly controlling man, a trait that she saw more and more in Neal as their courtship progressed.

“Emma, really, I must insist that you hurry.”

“Yes, mother.”

Emma rose from her seat and placed her bucket on the floor at the foot of her bed before putting herself to rights. She checked her hair in the small mirror hung on the wall opposite her luggage, trying her best not to look as bad as she felt.

The top deck of the ship was beaming with life. People milled about everywhere, barking orders to some, saluting others. It was the most organized brand of chaos Emma had ever laid eyes on. She followed her mother, taking caution not to step in anyone’s way as they made their way to the gangplank.

It was there that she caught her first sight of her new home. It was breathtaking, not at all what she’d expected. The sky above the city was the bluest she’d ever experienced, like the ocean itself had been reflected into the heavens, and the buildings lining the seashore erupted in a mountain of golden sandcastles.

She’d barely had time to take it in before her mother began tugging on her elbow, a silent signal to move faster. Once on land again, Emma and her mother were greeted by the women’s auxiliary group. There were a handful of other officers that had brought families with them to their new duty station, and as was customary, a greeting party had come to meet the newest arrivals.

The women, some as young as Emma swooned and cooed over her mother. It wasn’t every day that the wife of such a high ranking official appeared, and the women clearly wanted to make a positive first impression, cementing their good standings as well as their husband’s in the mind of her mother. Much of the privilege afforded to soldiers and their families depended on rank, but social status had long been its own form of exchangeable collateral.

They all exchanged pleasantries as the woman walked them to the nearby base, a small wall and barbed wire barricade the only thing separating them from what some of the women had referred to as natives. Emma tried not to show her disgust at the term, but it was difficult when they seemed so unapologetic for the slur. Especially when they spoke of the uprising and how some of them needed to be put down like dogs.

Emma had seen her fair share of aristocrat snobbery before, but nothing quite so brazen. If not for the young brunette ambeling beside her, rolling her eyes as the women spoke, Emma certainly would have lost her sanity.

Eventually the gaggle of women made it to the house that Emma would call home. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as what she’d been accustomed to in London. There weren’t any of the ornate embellishments on the walls, no wood carvings, not even any color really. By some miracle though, the house did have plumbing, which had been one of Emma’s greatest worries. Some of her friends had warned her that she would be forced to use outhouses and public bathes.

The home itself was bleak, but her mother took it in stride, finding whatever she could to be excited about, and told the women that she would make her own in no time. Soon, she’d even managed to command the kitchen enough to make tea for all of the ladies who’d been kind enough to stock the house with groceries for the newcomers. They sat around the small table in the living room and discussed what it was like living in Alexandria, gossiping about one of the wives who hadn’t been able to make it. At one point, the conversation had shifted back to the natives, a warning not to venture into the city without a male escort to prevent savagery. Emma felt the walls closing in as the conversation continued. This small base made of a few homes and barracks had become a small prison. All of her dreams crushed.

As the women rose and exchanged parting words, Emma moved to take her leave but felt someone grab her wrist, tugging her outside and around the corner of the house. The girl continued to pull her farther and farther away from any other people.

Not sure what was happening, Emma braced herself to dig her heels into the ground, not wishing to move another inch.

“Where are you trying to take me,” she demanded.

It was the same brunette from earlier, and with a wolfish grin she shrugged.

“To the city of course.”

_____________________________________

She wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her to follow the young woman she now knew as Ruby. Perhaps it was a rebellion from all of the rules that had been forced upon her in such a limited amount of time. Perhaps it was sheer curiosity, but she went, almost eagerly.

Emma listened as Ruby told her about all of the places as they passed them and the people, even watching Ruby greet a few of them as friends. It was such a different picture from the one the women on base had painted. Half of her had been expecting men hidden under robes and veils to jump out and grab her, but the men and women that they came across all seemed friendly enough.

Soon, she found herself entering a brasserie. Ruby didn’t miss a beat in rushing to a table with a couple already sat across from each other. With no prompting whatsoever, Ruby took the spot next to the gentleman, edging him further against the wall. She motioned for Emma to sit as well. Carefully, she slid onto the bench next to the other woman, making sure not to crowd her.

It wasn’t until she’d become fully situated that she’d really been able to take stock of the people sitting with her. The woman to her right was beautiful in her own right. Brown hair tied at her nape, flowing over her shoulder in curls. It was odd for Emma to see a woman wish such relaxed standards and so carefree. In old London society, it was an unspoken rule that women wore their hair up in fanciful twists.

But as surprising as the woman’s demeanor was, it was truly the gentleman that had caught her attention. A slight scruff speckled the entire lower half of his face, and his cheeks had a sunkissed glow about them. But his eyes, they sparkled a deep blue, and all thoughts she’d had about the Egyptian sky upon her arrival had been put to shame by him.

“Emma, I’d like you to meet my friend Belle, and her pet, Killian. Everyone, this is Emma. She’s just arrived today and I’m trying to dispel the lies she’s heard of the city thus far.”

Killian nodded in her direction, but remained silent. Belle on the other hand had been eager to speak, having originally been born in France, but she’d lived in London until only a few years prior. She asked all sorts of questions about the museums and libraries, and life in general. Emma filled her in on all of the newness of what she’d missed since leaving. Before she knew it, a table full of food had appeared, enough to feed a small army.

She’d been reluctant to eat any, not yet having currency to pay for her share, but Ruby insisted, telling her it was on Killian. He barked out a laugh, but assured her that lunch was on him as a welcome gift. The four of them ate and spoke. Or more aptly, Ruby and Belle did most of the speaking, which was fine by Emma. She’d learned so much about Alexandria.

As it turned out, Ruby was the daughter of another office stationed at the base, but Belle had no affiliation with the Navy. She’d simply come to Egypt for the adventure of it all. She was actually on a small team searching for the lost library of Alexandria. She told Emma how many of the explorers that had come to the country had done so for the glory and treasure. Most of them were in Cairo, exploring pyramids and digging in the middle of nowhere hoping for the best. She on the other hand was intrigued by the library, her treasure was the lost books. The knowledge that had slipped away.

Eventually, lunch came to an end, their bellies all well and full, and Killian informed them that he’d stayed as long as possible, but that he needed to depart. Emma wasn’t sure why - he’d barely spoken, and she’d no knowledge of anything about it - but there was a small twinge of sadness at his leaving.

As they excited the brasserie, she watched as he turned and gave both Ruby and Belle hugs before handing Belle a small satchel. Emma had been taken back. In her previous social graces, a man and women were never to embrace unless they were married, and even then, they were to maintain a certain amount of propriety in public. But there, amongst a city of strangers, they seemed to give it no thought.

She was taken back yet again when Killian grabbed her hand, brushing the slightest of kisses against her knuckles. She felt her breath quicken and her heart begin to pound within her chest and she worried that the others might hear it.

“My lady.”

And then, before Emma could catch the breath that had left her body, he walked away. She tried not to watch him as he left, but her eyes had affixed to him, and there was no prying her sight from him until he’d turned into an alleyway. A gleeful squeal from Belle as she peaked inside the satchel and pulled out a worn book was the only thing that finally allowed Emma to focus her attention elsewhere.

“Hook always brings her a new rare book when he returns to the city, and everytime she loses her mind as if it were not to be expected from him.”

“Hook, is that Mr. Killian’s last name.”

Ruby snorted.

“Mister Killian? We’ve really got our work cut out for us with this one.”

Belle shushed Ruby, only giving the smallest of snickers.

“To answer your question, no. His last name is Jones. Hook was a moniker given to him back in his navy days. He was always very prim and proper of course, but if the occasion called for it, he had a mean left hook.”

Emma nodded in understanding, trying to reconcile the image of a clean cut soldier with the man she’d just met.

“As as far as Ruby is concerned, the best part of living in Alexandria is the freedom to not abide by strict formalities.”

“Exactly, you needn’t be so formal here. There’s no Mister Killian or Mister Jones. No one here is going to rat you out for being human, Emma.”

“I-”

“No. You’re going to have enough thrust upon you on post, so in the rare moments you have for yourself like this, take advantage.”

Emma understood Ruby’s intentions, but she’d let her guard down once before and it had led to her father being exiled from his position. She couldn’t risk letting him down again. Instead, she nodded and did her best to change the subject.

After some time, Emma and Ruby returned to the base, parting ways near each of their homes. Ruby lived with her father and grandmother on the opposite end of the street. The girls made plans to meet up later in the week once Emma had her footing under her.

That evening, her parents discussed their days. Her father had his work cut out for him. Not only was he tasked with maintaining order in the city of Alexandria, but he’d just been informed that there had been a ship in the Medditeranian Sea that had been terrorizing cargo ships departing the Suez canal on their way home to London. He told them that the Royal Navy had searched exhaustively for the ship, but hadn’t had any luck and that they suspected that one of the neighboring countries was helping to provide a safe haven for the pillagers. They were ghosts.

Emma went to bed not long after, exhausted from all of the events of the day. Her mind couldn’t help but replaying everything over and over again in her mind. She’d managed to make new friends sooner than expected, and she genuinely enjoyed her time with Ruby and Belle. They were both so different from her social circle in London, more free and uninhibited. Something she’d always wished she could be but nothing she could have herself, given her station. The other member of her group had been more of an enigma, so quiet and mindful. She had to admit to herself, he was very handsome, and if not for his obvious relationship with Belle, she may have even allowed herself to dwell on his blue eyes and raven black hair. But he was already in a courtship, and she would do well to think of other things.

If only her dreams had understood propriety.

_____________________________________

The following few weeks were packed full of events and social soirees. Her mother wasted no time jumping into her role as a mother hen to the entire base, organizing tea parties, book clubs, even planning a winter ball for all of the soldiers. The weather in Alexandria was a far cry from the snowy streets of England but her mother made due, and also made use of nearly all of Emma’s free time.

She’d seen Ruby nearly daily, allowing their bond to grow, but the two women had only been able to sneak off once in the four weeks that Emma had lived in Egypt to meet Belle. The women had shared a more traditional meal in a British Pub that time. Emma had learned that the British people who lived in the center of the city had begun transforming the buildings, erecting more Victorian style facades with not one, but two pubs offering traditional menus and ales for the homesick. It was a remarkable find, and Emma was grateful for any semblance of her life before, but a small part of her couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if her people were ravanging the land, forcing their ways on others.

Even Belle had noticed the lack of Egyption patrons, and had warned the girls that there had been gossip of groups speaking out against the British presence in Alexandria. Nothing had come of it, but she warned the girls to be cautious and never to explore the city alone. For her part, Belle had taken a guide, hired by her employer for her protection. It also helped that Belle spoke and read the language, making her less helpless.

The days turned to months, and every few weeks the girls were able to sneak away for lunches at the same Brasserie as their first meeting. Sometimes it was just the three of them and they would discuss Belle’s research or Ruby’s grandmother who lived with her and her father. They spoke of news from England. Sometimes Killian was there as well, regaling them all with stories that Emma often believed were complete fiction. She learned that he captained a ship that transported cargo, weeks of sailing the Suez Canal being what kept him away for such long stretches of time.

It was during hose visits with Killian present that Emma experienced some of the most amazing meals she’d ever eaten. The chicken curry with black cardamom had been particularly flavorful and the Mahlab bread had been perfect, but for Emma the Morracan saffron chicken had been her absolute favorite. The four of them became very close, but Emma still knew little about Killian, aside from the fact that he’d grown up in Yorkshire and sailed. The curiosity of it all ate away at ther, but it would have been improper for her to inquire into his life in such a way.

Instead, the small group continued to meet when they could, exchanging mostly pleasant conversation, with Emma occasionally venting her frustration of having to listen to her mother speak of some of the more eligible young naval officers with the sultity of Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square. She also spoke of her excitement over the Winter Ball and how it would be nice to have a formal dance once more with some of the young soldiers.

It wasn’t until nearly six months after Emma’s arrival that she learned that Killian and Belle were not in fact courting. The four of them met for a late lunch, eating their meal and catching up, and just as their plates were cleared, four mugs appeared, preordered by Killian before any of the rest of them had arrived. Killian had asked them all to keep an open mind, so Emma closed her eyes as she took her first sip, trying to focus on the taste, letting just the tiniest of moans escape her lips as the flavor exposed itself. It was sweeter than she’d remembered, but there was something else, something that gave it a small bite.

“Killian, this is delicious! What is it?”

Emma looked up from her mug to see a slight blush spread across his cheeks as he toyed with a spot behind his ear.

It’s cocoa, made from camel’s milk, with a sprinkling of cinnamon.

“Cinnamon?”

Emma wasn’t of simple mindedness. She’d seen the prices of many of the spices at the local markets, and while not as exotic as saffron or cardamom, cinnamon was still beyond the price she was willing to part with. While Killian never baulked at the price of their meals, nor did he seem to mind in the slightest the idea of paying for all of them, Emma often felt that she’d taken advantage of his kindness and polite manors, and the cinnamon cocoa that she savored did little to ease her guilt.

It wasn’t until after they all parted, all with hugs and Emma yet again with a kiss to her hand from Killian, that she learned of the true relationship between Belle and Killian. That they were merely friends, that they had been for years. Ruby teased Emma at her naivety, explaining that Killian had never treated them to such alluring meals before, not until he met Emma. That many of the dishes they consumed weren’t even on the menu but that Killian had brought the spices with him and bribed the staff to use them for the table.

Ruby also teased Emma for the way she sometimes looked at Killian, the yearning glances.

For her part, Emma assured Ruby that there was no such thing, embarrassed that she been caught mooning over a man she’d thought taken until only moments before. Instead, Emma changed the topic entirely, asking Ruby how the Christmas dinner her Grandmother was planning was coming along.

The next two weeks passed in a blur as final preparations for the Winter Ball took place. All of the women pitched in making sure every decoration was placed in just the right spot, and that every possible detail had been seen to. Even though the base was small, and word of mouth would have been sufficient, Emma’s mother saw to it that each person had received a personalized invitation.

Her mother had chosen silver and blue for the colors, to accentuate the uniforms worn by the gentlemen. She’d even ordered new dresses from England. Silver for herself to coordinate with Emma’s father, and a long sleeved cream gown for Emma, with ornate lace embellishments. Emma had insisted that it was too much, but Mary Margaret had been adamant that Emma put her finest foot forward - an obvious insinuation that it was time for Emma to begin a courtship less she waste away as a spinster in her old age.

The ball itself was magnificent. The meal was divine, dripping with decadent sauces that reminded her of the nicer restaurants she’d been privileged enough to dine at before their move to Egypt. The desert was scrumptious as well, but as everyone spoke of how lovely the meal was, Emma couldn’t help but glance at the center table centerpieces. Silver and blue christmas baubles had been placed in glass vases. Most were uniform in shape and size, but there was one small bauble out of place among them, lighter in color. The blue of a certain pair of eyes she’d been dreaming of more and more lately.

She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts of the man who’s eyes had captivated her over so many other meals, that she’d completely missed the music begin to play, as well as the young petty officer at her side. It was only the clearing of her mother’s throat that brought her back enough to realize that he was there with his hand stretched out to her, asking for her own hand for a dance.

Emma acquiesced, letting him lead her to the dance floor. There, they did their best to move in synchronicity, but Emma was rusty, and the poor petty officer had been born with two left feet. Emma had been grateful as the music came to an end and a new song began. Never had she been so grateful for social norms, the same one that prevented her from dancing with the same gentleman twice without being in a courtship. Not that it had really been much of a blessing. Each partner had his own quirks. Some moved too quickly, others too slow. One poor gentleman had clearly been taught by his friends, and had inadvertently learned the footwork meant for her. She did her best not to embarrass him or to bring attention to it. But after eight partners, she had become tired, and her feet ached.

Ruby seemed much more excited though, telling Emma not to seem so glum. She was just in the middle of explaining her reluctance to dance anymore, when she heard a man interrupt from behind her.

“Perhaps you just need a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Emma turned, recognizing the voice but not being able to rectify what she saw before her. There, in a pristine Lieutenant’s uniform, stood Killian Jones, clean shaven and just as proper as any man in the room.

“How- How are you here?”

Killian chuckled and held his hand out for Emma, which she eagerly took as he guided her back into the center of the dance floor.

“I actually used to be stationed at this very post. It’s not exactly a fortress as I’m sure you know.”

“But, why are you here? I only mean that if you've left this post, then why would you come to a ball like this?”

“I’d never pass up a change to dance with a beautiful lady.”

There was such earnestness in his eyes and Emma couldn’t help but blush and look away, unsure of what to say herself. Perhaps Ruby had been correct in her assessment of Killian’s affections for her. They didn’t speak beyond that, but when the song came to an end, Killian made no move to relinquish her hand, and she made no effort to deny him. The next song began soon after and they continued to float across the dance floor to a waltz.

After the third song, Killian finally released Emma, knowing all too well how quickly gossip could spread in such small quarters. Together, they exited the dance floor and moved to gather some refreshments, but before they could make it to the table set for drinks, Emma came face to face with her father.

By any account her father looked rather austere as he took in the form of the man behind her.

“Emma, won’t you introduce me to your friend?”

Emma paused, not sure how to introduce Killian. It wasn’t as if he was meant to be there, or if he was even still in the navy - something she had questions about but would save for a later time - and didn’t know how many of the young naval men her father knew by name.

“Lieutenant Killian Jones, Sir. From the HMS Condor.”

Emma watched as her father’s features relaxed a bit.

“So you sail under Admiral Seymore then?”

“Lore Beresford actually. Admiral Seymore commands the HMS Invincible now.”

If it had been a test, Killian had surely passed given her father’s smile and invitation to sit at their table. David asked Killian all sorts of questions regarding his position and role aboard the Condor, and had Emma not been so enraptured by the ease at which Killian answered her father’s questions, she likely would have been bored of the conversation. The two men discussed Naval related items for a bit before the conversation shifted.

“So, Jones, as a man who’s recently sailed in the Mediterranean, what can you tell me of the rogue ship that’s terrorizing the cargo vessels?”

Killian scratched just behind his ear, a sign Emma had come to learn was an indication of his unease.

“Not much I’m afraid. I’ve heard a story or two but never encountered them myself. To be perfectly frank, I’m not even sure if they exist.”

“Well if they don’t exist, why would ships claim to have been attacked then?”

“Oh, it’s not uncommon actually. You see, before the canal was built, many of the ships would get caught in the storms around the cape. Sometimes they would genuinely lose a large portion of their cargo, and other times they would claim their losses to be greater than they actually were, especially if they’d been paid in advance. They’d hide the cargo and sell it at another port before docking in London.”

“So they pocket the extra purse?”

“Exactly, and now with the canal helping them avoid the more treacherous waters, they have no excuse to falsely declare their cargo manifest.”

Emma’s father sighed, trying to take in everything Killian had told him. It seemed far fetched, and Emma’s father even said as much, but it was such a bizarre claim that Emma couldn’t help but wonder if there was some merit to it.

“It seems like an awful lot of trouble for so many ships to go to, but I guess it’s not out of the realm of possibilities. And if I’m being honest, I found myself questioning the stories all together when I heard the rumors of the vessel’s captain's name. Who would possibly ever wish to go by the name of Hook?”

Both men laughed at the absurdity of it, but Emma couldn’t rid herself of the knot that had formed in her throat as Killian watched her with a cautious eye. It may have seemed such an absurd name if not for the fact that her father was speaking directly to the man in question without so much as a clue. She had invited the wolf into their home and he had devoured the sheep.

Emma’s chair scraped the wood floor as she stood in a rush.

“Mr. Jones, I do believe it is getting late and you said you needed to return to your ship soon.”

Her father, completely stunned, told the young lieutenant that he didn’t wish to keep him, and Killian for his part nodded and thanked her father for a delightful evening.

Emma followed Killian outside, where he immediately turned to her and tried to speak, but she cut him off, enraged at his audacity.

“Mr. Jones-”

“Am I no longer Killian to you?”

“Mr. Jones, given the situation, I must insist on following proper social decorum as not to beseech or sully my father’s name and standing in his post. I ask that you leave and that you do not return.”

He only nodded and took his leave, breaking Emma’s heart in two as he did so.

_____________________________________

Three months passed in which Emma devoted herself to her mother’s causes. It had been difficult at first as her mother pressed her in the days after the ball as to who her young lieutenant was, and Emma had assured her he was no one as she fought the urge to weep and scream and riot at the very thought of him. But when her father came home two weeks later, irate at learning that there was no such Lieutenant Jones on the HMS Condor, demanding that Emma have nothing to do with him and to report it if she ran into him again, Mary Margaret finally let the subject go.

Instead, her mother nurtured her as best she could, teaching her a new needle point technique, recommending books for Emma to read as the newest member of the women’s auxiliary book club. Anything she could to keep Emma’s mind busy.

Ruby tried as well, showing Emma new places in the city, showing her a mix of the roads less traveled by most sightseers. They shopped at the market and even learned to cook a new dish from an older Egyption woman that Ruby’s Granny had befriended. Ruby still took her monthly trips to have lunch with Belle, but Emma always declined.

Still, despite all of her activities, Emma found her mind wandering to a certain pair of blue eyes. Sometimes the thought of him sickened her so, but sometimes it just left her with a sense of melancholy.

He’d been the only man to captivate her so, to make her feel like she had value as a woman as more than just a future wife or daughter. She’d seen it in the way he interacted with Belle as well. He was different, and she’d foolishly allowed herself to believe him her equal in many ways.

But he was a coward and a cod.

Two month more passed before Ruby finally broke, telling Emma she was being stubborn. That there was more to the story and that if Emma would only keep an open mind, that she would understand.

They fought, and Emma sent her away just as she had Killian. But Ruby had managed to dig her way into Emma’s mind, and her will shattered, curiosity settling into the cracks. Finally, Emma gave in and sought out Belle, with Ruby’s help.

She learned that Killian once had an older brother named Liam. That Belle had actually been engaged to Liam before his passing, and that Killian and she had latched onto each other in the years since as the only family either one had left. That both Jones brothers had been sent by her Majesty to oversee the construction of the canal. That the working conditions for the Egyptians had been less than ideal. It was essentially slave labor, and many of them became ill and if they didn’t die from exhaustion and hunger, they died of cholera instead. That Liam had passed after getting sick as well.

It had all been too much for Killian, who had witnessed everything first hand. The poor conditions, the way his countrymen had come to ravage a country, to indoctrinate themselves. He couldn’t be a party to it anymore, so he took his brother’s ship and crew and they revolted. They shed their uniforms and sailed under no man but themselves. They captured vessels and stole cargo belonging to the queen, giving it back to the Egyptians to sell for profit in reparations.

It was so much more than Emma could comprehend. She’d seen firsthand how the British had taken over parts of the city, but she’d never considered it on such a large scale. And the thought of everything Killian had witnessed, she wouldn’t have had the strength to survive it all the way he had.

She’d been such a fool to dismiss him so carelessly, ignoring everything she’d known about him in favor of the limited gossip her father had spared her over a meal one night.

Belle told her that she expected Killian in a few days time, and told Emma where his ship usually made port to avoid the Naval ships in the area and where’s she’d likely find him in the mid morning. The next two days Emma felt her stomach in knots with anticipation and nerves. She’d barely been able to eat dinner and her mother had fretted that Emma had taken ill.

Sneaking away had been a thing of miracles, and had taken Ruby’s use of distraction, leaving Emma to roam the city alone for the first time. She knew the way, but there had been rumors of unrest in the city again, and although the port Killian used wasn’t far, she’d wished she’d heeded everyone's warnings when she found herself surrounded by two angry men, screaming at her in a language she didn’t understand. She tried to apologize for whatever she’d done and move on, but the men were enraged, and before she knew it, one of them and moved closer. She hadn’t been prepared for the stinging blow that crossed her cheek, nearly knocking her to the ground.

She felt herself being shoved back and forth between the two of them and felt nothing but fear. She’d never been in such a situation and had no way to defend herself. But just as one of them had pushed her against the wall, she heard another voice call out for them to let her go. There was a commotion, but her tear filled eyes had prevented her from seeing most of what had happened. All she’d caught was a blurry figure punching one of the men and both of them taking off down an ally, leaving her in the man’s charge.

The man tried to comfort her, but she recoiled from his touch, breaking into full hysterics, screaming at him to get away, trying to push against his chest when he didn’t leave. Instead he only pulled her closer and hugged her tightly until exhaustion set in and she collapsed into him.

“Shh, It’s okay, love, I’ve got you.”

It was only after she’d calmed down that she was finally able to make sense of what had occurred. Killian had seen the men pushing her and had come to her rescue. She collapsed into him once again, letting herself sink into his embrace that time. When they broke apart, she felt his fingers lift at her chin while he looked her over.

“Emma, what are you doing out here alone?”

“I,” she hesitated, not sure how to begin her apology. “I actually came to find you. I needed to speak to you.”

He gave her a small cautious smile, but he kept his distance, still unsure of his place with her. It broke her heart all over again, knowing that she’d caused him pain. “Come now, let’s get you out of here.”

Emma followed him back to the market where more Englishmen were milling about. “Smee, something has come up that I must see to. I trust you to take care of things here.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Emma watched as Killian handed the stocky man a small notebook before taking her hand and guiding her away towards an area she had never been to before. They walked for a bit in silence before coming upon one of the most breathtaking views Emma had ever experienced. The water stretched out as far as the eye could see.

“I’ve always found the sight of the sea from this place to be calming. I thought that perhaps you could use some of that calmness after what happened back there.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Killian removed his jacket and set it on the ground at Emma’s feet, signaling for her to sit. With his aid, she lowered herself down until she was in a seated position where he joined her. They sat in silence for a bit while Emma worked through her muddled thoughts. She’d had a plan before the incident but everything she’d practiced in her head seemed silly by comparison.

“I wanted to thank you, Killian.” She hoped that the use of his name would have the impact it deserved.

“It was nothing.”

“No, I- I’m sorry, I’ve lost all sense of myself. I just needed to apologize, for that night, for everything. I acted rashly without knowing all of the details and I was a child throwing a tantrum. And then after I treated you so poorly, you still came to my rescue.”

The longer she spoke the more incoherent her words became and she was sure she’d messed up anything all over again. But once again, Killian was the pinnacle of kindness and good form.

“Emma, you had no reason to act any differently. I selfishly crashed your party and then made a cad of myself in front of your father. I’m ashamed of myself for the way I carried on that night and your actions were completely justified.”

“They weren’t though, and I’ve been sick at myself ever since. Please forgive me.”

“Emma, love, there’s nothing to forgive on your part.” “Then there’s nothing to forgive on yours either then.”

He nodded.

“But I must ask, why did you come that night?”

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. I’ve been besotten with you since the moment I met you, and with all the talk of the ball, I drove myself mad at the idea of you dancing with all of those men. I know it was stupid and selfish, but I couldn’t not go. Belle gave me the information.”

“And should I have not sent you away, what would have happened?”

“Emma,” he warned, but she continued.

“Would that dance have been the end of the evening?”

“Emma, I’m trying my best to be a gentleman here. Please. I beg of you.” There was a pleading in his voice. Something she knew was dangerous to push at, but she couldn’t help herself. Not after all of the time she’d wasted avoiding him.

“Would you have watched as I danced with my next partner?”

“Yes. I would have watched with hatred in my heart towards the man holding you in his arms, and I likely would have slipped out before you could notice.”

“And that would have been it?”

“Aye. But I would have left wondering,” she nodded for him to continue, “what it would have been like to kiss you.”

“And now, would you continue to wonder?” All sensibility clearly having left her head as she never would have been so forward had she had her wits about her.

But all thoughts of her impropriety were gone as his lips met hers, ever so softly. Nothing more than a light press of his mouth to hers before he pulled back. She let out the softest of sighs before flashing him a smirk that left him beaming from ear to ear light a young school boy.

They stayed there, in that calm little island among the land for another hour, discussing things Emma had never allowed herself to voice aloud before, an ease and understanding having formed between them. Emma told him of the true reason her father had been stationed in Alexandria. She’d also spoken of why she’d been so sullen at the idea of leaving England. It wasn’t the idea of leaving her childhood home, or her friends, but at leaving behind any chance she had at independence.

Two years prior, the University of London had become one of the first in the country to allow women to not only sit for exams but to earn their degrees. Emma had dreamt of becoming a solicitor, but her move to Egypt had all but assured that dream dead. Instead, she would become like every other woman she knew, marrying an eligible suitor and bearing his children, to live a dreadfully boring life.

Killian told her that her dream would only die if she let it. That he believed in her and that he’d yet to see her fail at anything she’d put her mind to. He encouraged her to apply to the university and to speak with her parents. That even in his limited interaction, he could see the love her father had for her and that he’d want nothing more than her happiness.

He also told her the truth, the entire truth about the activities aboard his ship. That they had many friends that gave them safe harbor and protection from the Navy. That they ever only took items that belonged to the royals and other aristocracy. They never took from people that needed it.

She learned of his childhood. A drunk sot of a father and a sick mother. He and Liam joined the Navy as soon as they came of age hoping to improve their station. He spoke of Liam in the highest regards, and Emma wished she could have met him.

They eventually were forced to leave their little oasis to join Ruby and Belle for lunch, receiving knowing looks from both of the ladies as they sat side by side for the first time, feeling a rush each time their hands brushed each other’s at the table.

When they parted, Killian promised to write to her as often as possible as he had no idea when he’d next be able to visit. Soon he hoped, but they both knew that her father had doubled down on his efforts to capture the elusive Captain Hook since letting him slip through his fingers at the Winter Ball. More patrols had been sent and there had even been a reward offered for information leading to his capture. He assured Emma that he knew the waters better than anyone and wouldn’t get caught but she worried just the same.

Over the next few months, Emma and Killian exchanged letters through Belle. Their mutual friend knew of Killian’s confidants in the city that could get corresponce out by other means. From what she gathered, Killian spent a large portion of his time in Turkey, an ally of England, but not under its control and therefore having no obligation to the crown. Higher officials could more easily be bought there as well, making it a safe haven of sorts for him to hide from her father’s constant searches.

She wrote to him as well telling him that she had secretly applied to three universities in England, not that she expected anything to come of any of her applications when there were so few spots available and much more well connected families, while she was doing it completely alone. She wrote to him about the books she was reading as well, many of which he’d read himself, with Killian recommending more she may like.

Emma spent most of her free time with Belle. Ruby had taken a new beau and they’d only connected in passing. Emma envied her the ability to properly court her young petty officer, even if it meant having Granny as a chaperone most of the time.

Belle’s research had nearly come to an end. With no results, receiving funding had been more difficult and her employer had nearly exhausted his own purse in their search for the library. There had been a few times that they’d believed themselves close, but each of those resulted in disappointment.

Emma dreaded the idea of Belle leaving Egypt, but if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, it was likely for the best. Incidents like the one Killian had saved her from had become all too common in the city. Reports of attacks on British men had begun to circulate, and Emma knew it was only a matter of time before venturing into the city would be impossible. She often worried about Belle. Her hired guide knew the area, but should a situation arise, she wasn’t sure where his true loyalty would lie, or if he'd be able to protect her friend, and the idea of anything happening to Belle left Emma feeling ill.

And as it always happens, all good things did come to an end. Belle’s research was cancelled and her entire team had packed up, ready to return to London after years away. Emma spent the morning with her, helping to see to the rest of her belongings in her small apartment, making sure nothing was left behind. Ruby had managed to pry herself away from Peter long enough to join them as well. Emma had written to Killian, but given tensions everywhere, knew that it would be unlikely that he’d be able to see their friend off.

Not that anything between them would ever really be goodbye with their connection. In time they would find eachother again. But it was that very connection that ensured Killian was there for one last farewell lunch. They ate and despite the stories told and the laughs had, the entire meal was a somber affair, each person there realising that everything was changing and nothing would ever be the same.

When lunch was over, they all left the brasserie one final time, exchanging their goodbyes. The woman all cried as they hugged and promised to write one another. Seeing the embrace between Belle and Killian nearly broke Emma’s heart. She knew how important they were to each other, the familial bond between them, and she knew how hard it must have been for Killian, knowing that he’d be unable to return to England to visit her. Not when he was deemed a deserter by many. She watched as he whispered something in Belle’s ear, and how Belle could only shake her head in return, too choked up for words.

Ruby left first, having made plans with her father and Peter, hoping to seek her father’s approval. Belle left next, her ship departing shortly after, which left only Emma and Killian. They walked slowly through the market, Emma’s hand placed gently in the crook of Killian’s arm, just like any normal couple. Together, they simply enjoyed the time they had before he had to leave again.

They continued through the city until they’d made their way to the spot Killian had brought her to before. Just as before, he removed his jacket for her to sit on, and there they talked as they took in the sight of the sea before them. As the sun lowered, Emma knew she should be getting back before her family missed her, but she hated the idea of saying goodbye to him.

They waited as long as possible, until they could wait no more. But before they headed back, Killian told her that he had a gift for her. She’d expected a small jar of spices or a book like he’d brought to Belle in the past, but instead she watched as his hand rummaged with the collar of his blouse before freeing a small silver chain. She caught just the faintest glimpse of a jewel before Killian had closed her hand around the chain, the weight of it in her palm heavier than expected.

“This belonged to my brother, who gave it to me before he passed. He told me that it would keep me safe, just as it had him, and for all of these years it has. And now I want you to have it. To keep you safe as well when I can’t be with you.”

“Killian, I can’t accept this. It’s too precious!”

“Emma, love, nothing is more precious to me than you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you here.”

Throwing away all sense of propriety, Emma lifted to her tiptoes, resting her hands on his chest as she did so, kissing him with all of the affection she felt in her heart.

Her joy was short live though as she heard a throat clear from behind her. Stunned, she turned, only to find her father staring back. She’d never seen such a look upon his face, and her blood turned to ice.

“Emma, come here now,” he growled.

“Daddy, please, it’s not what you think.”

“Now!”

Emma did as her father commanded, helpless to disobey him, but she continued to plead for Killian, telling her father that he was a good man and that she loved him. Her father baulked at the idea, telling her that she was a naive child that had been taken advantage of. He told Killian that had it not been for Emma’s presence, he would have had the man seized and chained to the stockades already. That he’d found the letters Killian had sent his daughter. David was livid that his Emma had been so irresponsible and had betrayed his trust.

Emma wept as Killian left, unable to say anything to change her father’s mind. He parted with a promise to her that not a day would go by that he didn’t think of her. In return, her father promised that if he ever saw Killian again, he’d have him hung for treason.

In the weeks and months that follow Emma was inconsolable. She’d lost nearly everyone that had meant anything to her. Her father kept a strict eye on her and her interactions with Ruby were limited, and only allowed under supervision. Without Belle to help her send letters, she had been completely cut off from everything.

Most of her time was spent in a melancholy daze. Her mother tried her best to lift her daughter’s spirits, but Emma was despondent. Even when her letter from the University of London arrived informing her she had been accepted to study with them hadn’t been enough to pull her from her misery. It didn’t help that her father had become upset at learning of her intent to leave for school, just another secret she’d kept from him in his eyes.

She moved through life as a walking ghost.

The climate surrounding the city has escalated as well. Many of the Europeans had fled the city in favor of Cairo where the political situation was less terse. The officers on the base had been warned to stay ever vigilant, and visits into Alexandria had been officially forbidden.

No one could have predicted what had come next though. A member of the Egyptian Army who went by the name of Ahmed Urabi, had sparked a revolt among the people. The whispers among the countrymen had become shouts heard from all the way across the Mediterranian. Killian knew all too well the anger dwelling among the Egyptian nationals. He’d seen first hand how the canal had run red with the blood of the men that built it long before it had with the sea. And he knew it was only a matter of time before the land became overrun with devastation.

He’d also heard chatter of British ships collecting in the sea, ready wage an assault on the city, and how quickly tensions could rise. Emma was in danger, and it killed him not being there to protect her, and while her father was formidable, David didn’t know the people or the city.

Eventually, it became too much, and his worry for Emma’s safety outweigh any consideration he gave to his own life. What was the use of avoiding the hangman’s noose with her gone? So he sailed into the heart of the beast, to the ship he knew Emma’s father commanded, allowing his ship to be boarded by British officers for the first time since Liam’s death.

Killian pleaded with Emma’s father, telling him that a revolt was coming, but his warning came too late as the city had been taken under siege that morning. Riots had broken out all over the Alexandria, and that the British armada had orders to attack the city. It took ages of arguing between the two men before a resolution had been found. Killian was certain that the base was in danger, that it would be one of the first places attacked if it hadn’t been already. David, ever as stubborn as his daughter assured him that the base was the safest place Emma could be. It wasn’t until Killian listed all of the ways to sneak it that David realized his concerns may have merit. And it was only on Killian’s solemn word to return with Emma and Mary Margaret and turn himself in to be tried before a British court for his actions against the crown that David relented, letting him sail on towards Alexandria. Killian was sure that if not for his strict orders, David likely would have sailed right next to him.

When he and his crew docked at their usual spot, he found the city in near ruins already. Fires raged through the buildings, people fought in the streets, dragging expats through the narrow corridors by their clothes. Killian rushed through the city as quickly as possible, taking shortcuts wherever he could, throwing a few punches along the way. His sword found its way in the belly of a particularly large rioter at one point. Eventually he reached the base, as just as he had worried, there were already rioters beating against the building doors, tearing down everything in their path.

Killian pushed past them to the house he knew belonged to the highest ranking officer. Knowing that Emma and her mother were likely hiding inside, he kicked down the door, searching for them room by room, calling out her name until he heard her voice, small and weak, coming from a closet. Inside, he found Emma, her mother, and Ruby all huddled together trying to shelter themself from the chaos of the outside world.

With reluctance, Killian finally managed to convince Mary Margaret that she wasn’t safe there and that she needed to follow him. That he would keep them all safe. They fought their way through the pandemonium, running as fast as they could from the hoards of men screaming in the street.

When they reached Killian’s ship, his crew wasted no time setting sail again. They had only barely left when they heard the shots of cannon fire ring out from the other side of the city. Smoke and ashes overtook the sky as Alexandria burned before them. Killian’s first mate tended to the women aboard, making sure they had food and blankets as the ship drifted further and further to sea.

It was surreal for Emma, the dichotomy of the beauty she experienced from nearly that same spot as she arrived in Alexandria only the year before to the way she left it, in desolation. For hours, the ship stayed anchored away from the battle that raged on between the British and Egyptians. The booming cannons rang out through the night, and silence overtook everyone on the ship, each man and woman understanding the weight of what had happened.

It wasn’t until morning when Killian’s crewman witnessed an Egyptian boat float out to sea with a flag of truce that everyone was able to breathe again. As promised, Killian returned Emma, Ruby, and Mary Margaret to David’s ship, awaiting his own fate at the hands of Her Majesty's Navy.

And whether it was exhaustion from the night before, or the gratefulness of a man whose family was safe, David didn’t immediately take Killian into custody. Instead, he had the man escorted to the Captain’s day cabin, while his family was taken to his quarters to rest. Emma was too tired to even protest, but Killian couldn’t begrudge her. She’d been through too much and no matter what fate befell him, knowing she was safe was all that mattered. David had been right before, and as much as Killian had been remiss to admit it to himself at the time, he wasn’t good enough for Emma. He couldn’t give her the life that she deserved as a man on the run, and after years of always looking over his shoulder, he was ready to accept his fate. He was just too tired to continue.

He wasn’t sure how long he waited, likely only an hour, but it felt as if weeks had passed before David emerged, his fatigue obvious in the bags under his eyes. David gestured for him to sit at the round table in the middle of the room, before taking a seat himself.

“I’ve looked into your record. One of the fastest promoted Lieutenants in recent history. Plenty of commendations. You were once an honorable man and I have to believe he’s still in there somewhere.”

Killia had no idea how to respond. It was a far cry from the dress down he’d expected and deserved. So he said nothing.

They sat in silence, each savoring the calmness of the moment.

“I can’t let you go, but I can’t send you to your death after you sacrificed yourself for my family. I’m at a loss for what should happen next.”

“What I did, saving Emma wasn’t to barter my way into your good graces, or to leverage my situation. I did it because I’m in love with her. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, and I’ve acted rashly at times, and I stand by the actions I took. But I’ve also come to see through Emma, that I wish to be a better man than I’ve been. And that begins now with me accepting the consequences of my actions, whatever they may be.”

David barked out a laugh.

“Yes, and that would go so well for me with my daughter.”

“She loves you. Surely you must know that.”

“I do.”

“Emma carries a great deal of guilt over the end of her relationship with Neal, and the adverse effects it had on you. She holds you in the highest regard and I promise you, she didn’t enter into a courtship with me lightly.”

David stood and walked to a small porthole where the view of the sun setting against the water was visible.

“Is that what it was then? A courtship?”

“You would have to ask Emma.”

David's gaze remained fixed on the horizon as they continued to speak.

“My daughter was accepted to a university back in England. She doesn’t know yet but she begins her courses in a month’s time. And although I know it’s what her heart truly desires, I find that I’m having a difficult time letting her go.”

“Aye, I can imagine.” Killing couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in Emma's accomplishment, even if it did sting to know she was leaving.

“How did you do it? How did you let her go?”

Killian swallowed, trying to find the words. It wasn’t that he had let her go, as much as he had let her free.

“It wasn’t easy for me either, but as I said before, Ilove her, and sometimes loving someone means realizing that you have to put their needs above your own.”

David grumpled before rubbing his face with both hands.

“I can’t make any promises, but I will see what I can do about having your charges dismissed. No one outside of my family knows who you are. As far as the navy is concerned, you’re nothing more than a deserter.”

“I’m grateful, but you needn’t-”

“What I need is to know Emma has someone with her in London watching out for her. I can’t leave my post, and most of the officers back in England are terrified of Neal's father and will keep their distance out of fear of repercussions. As reluctant as I am to say this, you’re the only person I trust with her.”

It took some doing, many favors called in, but David was able to clear Killian’s record and his time was considered served. Many of the crew members aboard Killian’s ship had been just as grateful to step back on English soil after so many years away. While none of them had verbalised it, they’d each grown homesick in their own rights.

Killian found honest work with Belle and her research team, translating some of the more rare manuscripts they had come across on their newest search for the Temple of Deir el-Bahri, believed to be the resting place of the only three women to rise to the position of pharaoh.

And over the next few years, Emma was able to finish her degree, receiving it under her new married name with David’s blessing. Her father remained in Egypt, still under banishment from Admiral Gold. Long after their daughter was born, Belle and Killian managed to decipher the exact location of Hatshepsut’s resting place, which meant returning to Egypt. Killian had been reluctant to leave, but Emma insisted, reminding him that while Belle was great with books, they needed him for translations. The dig turned out to be a once in a lifetime find, and kept growing, so much so that he’d written to Emma, devastated that he’d be unable to return home in time for christmas.

Which had led to a lonely Emma telling her daughter the very story in question.

_____________________________________

The cocoa has cooled and the fire in the hearth long dwindled. It’s chilly in the drafty house once more, and while she briefly considers adding more wood to it, the hour is late and she really should be getting her little one to bed.

“So Papa started the cinnamon tradition?”

“Yes my little duck. You father introduced it to me, and he passed it on to you as well.”

The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“I miss him. In class we wrote to Father Christmas and I asked him to bring Papa home. Do you think he got my letter?”

Emma’s heart breaks at the question. Her daughter is still young, too young to understand that Father Christmas is only an illusion, something told to little children to get the magic of the world alive, and that no amount of magic in the world can bring Killian home in time for Christmas morning.

But sometimes, just as her daughter told her that evening, you only have to believe in magic for it to work, and her daughter's belief has apparently been just enough for the biggest Christmas miracle that Emma has ever witnessed.

Because there before them, in a freshly opened doorway just before midnight, stands Killian covered in snow from head to toe. And he isn’t alone. Shuffling into the entryway behind him is her mother and father, neither of which she’s seen since leaving Alexandria. It’s everything she can do not to cry as she rushes to hug them all.

Her daughter screams once she realizes what’s happening and leaps into Killian’s arms as he introduces her to her grandparents for the first time ever. They speak of David’s retirement and her parents plans to move back to London as they’ve already missed so much time together.

Later, when everyone is settled, Killian pulls her aside, and he reveals a small sprig of Mistletoe from his jacket pocket, kissing her with all of the passion of a man who hasn’t seen his wife in nearly seven months.

Things may not be what they were, but this is so much better.

#csss2020 #cssecretsanta2020 #captain swan fanfiction #cs ff #period peice

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vampire-named-gampire · 4 years ago

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Carry On Countdown - Day 17

Hello! Another ficlet for the @carryon-countdown! It’s once again something that I crammed, so forgive me for any grammar mistakes

Prompt: Blanket fort Word count: 1.5k Rating: G but also like there are jokes so maybe T? Summary:

Three idiots + a handful of blankets + hermit crabs = a disaster

PENNY

When I come back home from uni, Simon is sitting on the sofa, staring into space. My heart falters at the sight. Simon’s been doing better, but there are still bad days. He doesn’t turn to my direction when I come in.

I drop my bag by the sofa and go to the kitchen to get us some water and snacks. (Chances are he hasn’t had any today.) Then, I sit down next to him, placing a bag of salt and vinegar Walkers on the coffee table. (It’s not the most nutritional snack, but Baz has infiltrated our pantry.)

Simon smiles a little and reaches for the crisps. “Thanks.”

“How are you?” I ask. He hates these types of questions (so do I), but it’s important that he communicates his feelings. (Yes, I may have sat in one or two of his therapy sessions.)

Simon just shrugs. “I’ve been thinking, y’know? About the past.”

“About Watford?” I ask. He shakes his head and shoves a fistful of crisps in his mouth. (Simon does that, when he doesn’t want to answer straight away.)

“No more like… childhood past. Care homes and such. And how much I missed out,” he sighs, taking another crisp from the bag. “I mean, I don’t want to feel sorry for myself, but at the same time, I just wish I could do some of the normal childhood things, you know?”

I want to say I know, but I don’t. Yes, both Simon and I had to grow up very fast because of the whole Humdrum and imminent war situation, but at least I had a normal childhood before Watford. I had Christmases and food on the table and people telling me they love me. Simon didn’t. He never got to experience playing around with his siblings or have his parents teach him how to ride a bike and then spell his scrapes away when he fell. It makes my heart break for him.

Then, an idea crosses my mind. I jump off the sofa.

“Where are you going?” Simon asks as I sprint for the bedroom.

“To get supplies. We’re doing normal childhood things!”

BAZ

When I get to Simon’s, the living room’s a right mess. More specifically, it’s a mess of blankets and pillows and cardboard boxes. It takes me a few moments to realize that it’s a blanket fort.

I can’t decide whether to sigh, smile or just walk back out. What on earth has possessed Snow and Bunce this time to make a blanket fort?

Just as if on cue, Snow’s curly head peeks from in between the blankets.

“Baz! We built a blanket fort!” he beams.

“I can see that.”

“Please, this is more of a blanket castle!” Bunce sounds from the inside. “Baz, can you turn off the light?”

“Turn it off yourself,” I say, taking off my shoes and my coat. And then I do turn off the light because I’m a pushover and I’d do anything for these two idiots. The fort glows faint golden shade. Bunce must’ve spelled some lights on the inside of it. (I hope they’re not using real lights – that could be a fire hazard.) (You can be a pyromantic vampire and still be aware of fire hazards, thank you very much.)

“Thank you!” Bunce’s voice sounds from the inside.

I get on my knees (even though I’m wearing very expensive trousers) and edge towards the fold of blankets where Simon’s head was peaking out just moments ago. “Can I come in?” I ask. Truth be told, I was never allowed to build blanket forts as a child. I’m intrigued to see what the fuss is all about.

Simon’s head peaks out again. “Password,” he demands, smiling.

Huh? Password?

Of course the idiots have a password. I should’ve expected this. But what would Simon want for a password?

I’m fully aware of my still puzzled expression as I lean forward and press a kiss on his forehead. Simon giggles.

“That’s not the password,” he says, blushing a little. (It’s good to see him like this.)

“It should be,” I retort.

“A password should be something that works even if Penny comes to the door.”

“You think I won’t kiss Bunce?” I raise my eyebrow at him.

“Ew!” Bunce’s voice sounds from the inside.

“On the forehead!” I clarify.

“Disgustingly sappy!” Bunce calls back.

“Come on, just try again. You can guess it, I promise,” Snow prompts me. I sigh.

“Can you give me a hint?”

“It’s one word. Something that I like.”

“Scones!”

“No! But damn, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Sandwiches?” I try again. He smiles and opens the blanket for me. I crawl inside.

They’ve really made something of the place. Bunce must’ve spelled it bigger, because there’s enough room for Simon and I to sit upright, even with his wings. The walls are adorned by tiny glowing orbs and they’ve got a pile of snacks in the middle.

“Welcome to Fort of Being Responsible Adults,” Bunce greets me solemnly. I bow my head, playing into it.

“I feel honoured to be here.”

“The rules are no sabotaging the fort, no snogging and no stealing of snacks. Are we clear?” she asks.

“The sabotaging might be a bit hard to resist,” I say, smirking at Simon. He jabs me in the ribs in return. (The snogging rule is unfair, really, especially since my ideas for a password are much better.) “May I call an emergency meeting?” I ask.

“Emergency meeting called. What would you like to discuss?”

“The password sucks.”

“It does not!” Simon objects.

“Snow, ‘sandwiches’ is the weakest password in the history of passwords. I’ve seen hermit crabs stronger than your fort password.”

“Hermit crabs are actually quite strong for their size,” Simon mutters.

“Are you suggesting we change our password hermit crabs?” Bunce asks.

I roll my eyes. “I’m suggesting we change it from sandwiches. We can have a democratic election.”

“There are only three of us…” Simon starts.

“I suggest we do change it to hermit crabs,” Bunce says.

“I think it should be onomatopoeia,” I say. Simon frowns at me. (He hates long words.)

“You think the password should be onomatopoeia or that it should be an onomatopoeia?” Bunce asks, deep in thought.

“Guys, I don’t even know what onomato-whatever means!” Simon cuts in.

“What do you suggest then, Snow?”

“Goblins!”

I roll my eyes at him. “If we’re going for magickal creatures, we could’ve at least gone with vampires,” I say.

“Baz, that’s like having your name for a password!” Simon objects.

“And having goblins for a password is like having the name of your celebrity crush,” I retort. (I’d sooner go three days without blood than pass up an opportunity to tease Simon over the fact that he thinks goblins are fit.) (I’d sooner go four days without blood than admit that I actually kind of agree with him.)

“They’re well fit,” Simon shrugs. (Always stands by his beliefs, that one.)

“Guys, I came up with a password. Goblin crabs!” Bunce exclaims. Both Simon and I groan.

“Bunce, that sounds like an STD.”

“I’m not sure it’s not,” Simon mutters.

“You probably know all about it,” I say, which is a low blow, even for me.

“Hey!” Simon protests, poking me in the ribs. I squirm, which is my great mistake, because the next moment, Simon gets this devilish look in his eyes and then he’s on me tickling me.

“Stop, stop!” I protest while laughing.

“Penny get in there!”

He doesn’t have to tell Bunce twice and suddenly I’m being attacked from both sides, laughing and squirming and struggling to catch my breath and damn them, they know I’m very ticklish.

“Stop, stop! I take it back, I’m sorry!” I wheeze. I feel myself losing balance and the next moment, I’m flat on my back on the floor, left to the mercy of Simon and Bunce. (And they don’t have any.)

Simon leans over, determined to continue his attack, but one of his wings catches in a blanket, pulling the whole fort down with him.

We all end up lying on the floor, laughing, with blankets and bedsheets piled upon us. My ribs are hurting from all the tickling and I squirm when Simon’s arm slides around my side, but he doesn’t tickle me, just pulls himself closer, laughing quietly into my shoulder.

I turn my head in his direction, suddenly overwhelmed by feelings of fondness for him. Seeing Simon so happy is such a rare occurrence and it never fails to catch me off guard and make me disgustingly sappy. I can’t help it; he’s been depressed for so long that seeing him smile is like music to my ears. Seeing him laugh so hard that he’s crying is a whole fucking symphony.

I lean over and press a kiss on his forehead.

“No snogging!” Bunce scolds me.

“The fort no longer stands Bunce. The rules are meaningless,” I retort.

We all laugh some more about it. In the end, it’s Simon who speaks again.

“Rest in peace, Fort Goblin Crabs. You served us well,” he says solemnly.

“Rest in peace,” Bunce and I echo. Simon snorts.

“What?”

“Goblin crabs.”

That sends us into a fit of giggles again.

---

A/N: here’s how I imagine Baz looking on his first attempt of guessing the password

#please check the link it's the best part of the fic #um anyway this is my first time trying to write penny's POV #idk what else to say my back hurts #i'm sorry about goblin crabs #it's downright awful #carry on countdown 2020 #coc 2020 #carry on #wayward son #any way the wind blows #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz pitch #penelope bunce #snowbaz fanfiction #snowbaz fic #snowbaz #my writing

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tagsecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

From @neuroticphysiologist

To @i-am-chidorixblossom

Secret santa does not own this work, full credit to author above!

With Brains busy with his project, Virgil volunteers to help John with the maintenance for Thunderbird 5.

Prompts:

*Virgil spending time in Thunderbird 5 with John

*Virgil looking after his brothers and them returning the favour when he needs it *Winter/snowy vacation with the Tracy boys

**********************************************************************************************

Virgil came down to Brains' lab to see what's up.

"Hey, Brains."

"Hello, Virgil."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"N-none, I'm afraid. But when I get to w-work on the new Zero X, I'll call you." "Okay, sure."

He looked around the lab. It was quite organized; files piled up and tools all placed on the desk. He stared at his calendar.

"Well, it seems like you have something important to do."

"Oh, this?" Brains was referring to his current task. "Y-yes, it's very important." "No, I meant the annual maintenance for Thunderbird 5. It's on your calendar, Brains." "Oh, d-dear," he checked his calendar. "I should be working with John by now. T-thank you for reminding me, Virgil."

But Brains said he's completely in focus with his project. If he leaves now, the invention would go critical.

He has been so busy since they found out about what happened to Jeff. He proceeded to work on the new Zero X, and he's also working on something to free the Mechanic from the Hood's control. The said second project is one of his most difficult tasks to do, and he‟s still not done yet. He was making sure that the Mechanic won't get hurt. It took him several tries but he failed. But he always knew that he's almost there.

The new Zero X requires a lot of parts, but Brains and MAX cannot do it themselves. The rest of the family comes down to help from time to time. Virgil also serves his favorite brand of coffee to him; it's something to accompany him with his work.

But sometimes, poor Brains needs to have a break, but working on something scientific and logical keeps him going.

"M-MAX will be a great help for John, but I c-couldn't send him alone without my help." Virgil is concerned about Brains, so he spoke up. "I'll do it. I'll head to Thunderbird 5 and help John with the maintenance."

Brains sighed. "Thank you, Virgil."

"But I think I'm gonna need the checklist for it."

"Of c-course. Hold on."

Virgil knew the spare parts Thunderbird 5 needs to maintain its functionality. He sends them via space elevator. But being there with John, he will encounter doing the annual maintenance for the first time.

Brains moved his chair to the drawers to find the folder. Unfortunately, he didn't have a soft copy for the checklist, but anyways, he passed the hard copy to Virgil. "John has an extra copy, so if you n-need to review the ch-checklist before proceeding to Thunderbird 5, you've g-got that."

"Thanks, Brains."

Virgil headed to the lounge to talk to John.

"What is it, Virgil?"

"Hey John, I'm coming up there to help you with the maintenance for Thunderbird 5." "Thanks. Is Brains up for the job too?"

"No, that's why I volunteered to help you. He's been so busy lately." "I see."

"Can I use the space elevator, John?"

"It's quite risky to use it, since my last mission with a rogue ship was a mess and it almost broke a few of the space elevator's minor parts."

"Brains was almost angry at you."

"Yeah," John nodded.

"You've been so impulsive at the time."

"I had no choice. Alan got his hands full and I'm the only one who can help. Well, speaking of Alan, you can wait for him to take you here. He's almost done." "Sure. I'll just review the checklist Brains gave me."

"Take your time," John closed the call, and then proceeded to notify Alan. "Oh, hey, John!"

"Virgil is planning to come up to Thunderbird 5 to help me with the maintenance." "What about Brains?"

"He's busy at the moment. Virgil needs a pick up."

"FAB. Heading to Earth's orbit now."

Virgil heard Thunderbird 3's engines, and when it landed on the launch pad, he brought the checklist, geared up, and proceeded to join Alan. Thunderbird 3 launched again and docked to Thunderbird 5.

"Here we are, Virg. Wish you luck."

"What for?"

"Checking the external is probably the hardest of them all, but you'll get there." "Thanks, Alan."

"No problem."

*******

Virgil brought the folder and entered Thunderbird 5. He heard John talking to Alan through the comms.

"Unfortunately, Alan, we have a situation."

Alan's sigh was heard. "And what's that?"

"Satellite in uncontrollable spin," John explained the details. "But I'll know you'll finish it fast."

"Okay, John, Tell the crew I'm on my way."

When Virgil heard Thunderbird 3 leave the dock, he started floating to meet his brother. "John? I have the... whoa!"

John went to the corridor to meet Virgil, who's currently seen floating upside down. "You got an extra copy from Brains."

"Yeah. There's a lot of work to do."

John grabbed his arm to get him right side up. "I hope you'll get used to it, Virgil." "I'll get it, John. First time I've been here, I sent you half a dozen of chocolate cream bagels. I wanted to send it to you personally because I left an important note." "From Virgil, with love?"

"Not only that."

"Yeah, I read the rest of it."

Virgil opened the folder for a brief review. "So, where do we start?" "We're going for a spacewalk. We'll check the externals first before we head in here. Alan, EOS, and I repaired the space elevator yesterday and right now it still needs rechecking to see if it works perfectly."

"Alright then."

"Free float for a while, I'm almost done plugging the wires."

"I'll help you."

*******

"By the way, Alan reminded me of checking the externals."

"Let me guess, difficult?" John glanced at his brother.

"That's what he said."

"Yes, it is, but today, we won't be long. I've started the maintenance two days ago, pretty early because we weren't so busy, so just in case, I proceeded right away. Brains and MAX helped me on the first day, then Alan and EOS on the next day." Five is the biggest of all the Thunderbirds; it takes a long time to do the general maintenance, so it's checked annually. Some parts are checked if there are problems. It is made sure if all the systems are functioning properly.

John closed the control panel.

"We'll get back to the processors later. Let's go, Virgil?"

*******

They hooked themselves near the airlock when they were outside. As Virgil observed, everything is almost complete. The solar panels are in the right place, the gravity ring is spinning normally. He remembered what he reviewed. Then he floated to the underside to check the hidden control panels. John was in the opposite side to check the maintenance hatch. They moved on to the next tasks when they switched places. It took them about an hour and a half. Then they were back together when they reached the space elevator.

"Hey, John," Virgil started conversing.

"What is it, Virgil?"

"I was thinking if we could go out in the snow this year. Gordon and Alan were asking me."

"I think so. I don't usually like going out in the snow, but if the whole family will agree, that's fine with me."

Virgil climbed up to see his brother. "I miss it, John. Last time we went out, it was like three Christmases ago."

"Yeah, I remember. Was it because Gordon and Alan miss having snowball fights?" Virgil chuckled. "I guess so."

"That would be a great idea, Virgil."

They talked about their previous Christmases on Tracy Island. Decorating days were a mess. Those include wrapping someone with a tinsel, ribbons, or gift wrappers and tossing the Christmas balls and they end up being broken. The two youngest were the hosts of that. There's also the time when Virgil borrowed John's digital single lens

camera and rainbow colored Christmas lights from the box for an experimental photo shoot. He asked Kayo to be the first model and it went perfectly.

Almost everyone helped Grandma when it comes to cooking. It was a good feast for the family. Exchange gifts were also present in the tradition, and singing a few Christmas songs.

Last time they went out for Christmas, they went to Switzerland. They stayed for four days and three nights in a hotel. They went snowboarding and built a snowman on the first day, skiing and snowball fights on the second day, and snowshoe hiking and getting warm inside the ski resort on the third day. It was the best.

In the ski resort, the family met a South Korean tour guide, who stayed in Switzerland for his job. He assisted them for the skiing, snowboarding, and snowshoeing equipment. He was happy seeing them enjoy themselves with snow sports, not to mention the bragging of the "maknae line", as he called it. When it comes to snowboarding, Mr. Scott the Showoff and Alan the Awesome at Agility were the coolest at that. There's also Kayo the Freestyle Skier. Gordon wanted to show his best too, but snow sports didn't like him so much.

Virgil was the best at making snow sculptures. He built around five unique ones. They would've been good for display, but a crazy antic from the tinies ruined one of the sculptures. They escaped from the big V with a sled.

John always kept warm in the chalet, along with Grandma and Brains, the two youngest were always up for a snowball fight, and Kayo was the lead at snowshoe hiking.

Virgil wished they could go out in the snow again, after reflecting about those memories.

"It's the 7th of December," he said. "We should plan it somehow."

"Let's hope that we're all gathered together this week to talk about it."

They were done checking the space elevator. They tested it when they went inside Thunderbird 5. It worked perfectly.

"All done," John noted. "Let's head to the processors."

The maintenance was almost done, but Virgil wanted to talk more with John. It's been a long time they haven't had pretty long conversations that were about outside the rescue business. He thought about what he wanted to say to him.

When they started checking, he stared at his little brother. He always wanted to tell him about his habits. John looked so tired. He looked paler, slimmer, and his bags under his eyes looked pretty obvious. He was on duty for six consecutive days with little hours to rest.

"How long did you rest your eyes, John?"

"Four hours. Why are you asking?"

"I'm sorry, John, it's just, look at you. Grandma is so gonna send you back to Tracy Island."

John sighed. Yeah, he's right. "I'm sorry, Virgil."

"We're not so busy after all. After the maintenance, we're going back to Earth together, alright?"

He just nodded in response.

It was like, „here we go again, now faced with the other smother hen of the Tracy brothers‟. Virgil always had to be sure that his brothers are okay. He would simply ask with a pat on the shoulder. If one of his brothers is not in a good state, physically, he‟ll take him to the bedroom (or to the infirmary if it‟s serious) to give the best treatment. Emotionally, he would give a big hug. His hugs are the best.

He helped Alan with some lessons that confused him. He also helped a stressed out Scott to keep him calm. For Gordon, well, he has always been by his side. And John, he'll help him with his work, such as the repairs in Thunderbird 5.

But who takes care of Virgil when he's not okay?

At times, stubborn Virgil hides his pain. He also hides in his room to let out his sadness. When one of his brothers notices him, he would feel the same. They have returned the favor.

He remembered the time he faced one of the hardest decisions in his life. He was offered a scholarship from a prestigious university because of his remarkable musical talent. It's a great opportunity, but he was having second thoughts. He had International Rescue business to handle, and he had to take care of his family. It took him days to decide, until he finally chose to reject the scholarship offer. When he went back home, he had regrets. If he chose to accept the offer, his family will still support him, of course. He was stressing himself out even though he had made his choice. He was thinking that he did something wrong. He wouldn't have the opportunity back. He sat down next to the grand piano and nodded. When Scott came in to hug him, he couldn't help but cry. Then his brothers followed. It was hard to set aside the musical career he wished to

pursue ever since he was little. It would've been a dedication to his mother. But it wouldn't upset her, right? If he rejected the offer just to help his family first?

Oh, man. Even today, it still hurts him. But he knows he'll get there. He'll achieve his dream of becoming a concert pianist someday.

The moment was all in his mind while replacing the CPUs. He slowed down his actions and John noticed him.

“Are you okay, Virgil?”

He went back in focus and again and quickly closed the board. “Oh, I‟m fine, John. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure? Because you looked a bit upset.”

“It‟s nothing.”

“Here you go again, Virgil. Earlier, you were concerned about me because I wasn‟t taking care of myself. At least I was honest about why. And you, you‟ve been hiding again.” He stopped his work to talk to his brother. “What was it that bothered you?” Virgil sighed. “Remember the time I told Scott about the scholarship I declined?” “Yeah?”

“That‟s what I was thinking. Still hurts me, though.”

Yep, John had to get back home to see him. Seeing Scott comforting a sobbing Virgil who was having regrets about rejecting a wonderful offer that would help him in his musical career sure was painful to the heart. John always loved his big brother‟s playing. He sits down and watches him play, and sometimes, he would accompany him with his trumpet. He rarely plays the instrument. He enjoys it more when Virgil is there to play with him.

John puts his hand on his brother‟s shoulder. “I was sad about that too, wondering why you did that. But I know you‟ll get to it.”

“Thanks, bro. I always keep that in mind.”

*******

“We‟re all done here,” John picked up the tools. “Thank you, Virgil.” “No problem. Remember, we‟re going home together.”

“Of course. Let me have a word with EOS first.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Virgil continued picking up the tools used to repair the processors. Minutes later, John did a quick fix on EOS‟ systems and now he‟s ready to join his brother.

They rode on the space elevator and headed to their quarters to switch to their comfortable clothes. But John, he took a shower first. Later on, he headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat, a little more than his usual appetite while in space. Meanwhile, Virgil talked to Grandma about John staying at home for a few days. When International Rescue gets busy, then it‟s time for John to get back to work.

John went back to his bedroom after having small talks with his brothers. He noticed that the bed sheets were changed and the comforter was placed neatly. “Grandma changed that for you,” he heard Virgil.

“I‟ll send her a personal thank you tomorrow,” John lied down and tucked himself in. “I‟ll turn off your alarm clock,” Virgil approached to the bedside table. “Virgil, that‟s already broken two months ago.”

Virgil checked the alarm clock. The second hand was missing and the battery was drained.

“I didn‟t bother to fix it,” John explained.

“Your phone?”

“No alarm set in there.”

“Alright. It‟s just that you need to get some sleep.”

Virgil walked to the door.

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for today.”

“Always happy to help, little brother. And… thank you too. We haven‟t had a pretty long talk together, and it was nice to spend the time with you.”

“You‟re welcome.”

Virgil turned off the light. “Good night, John.”

“Good night, Virgil.”

-end-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2020 #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #neuroticphysiologist

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oumiyuki · 4 years ago

Text

Snowy, Wintry Love

Pairing: You x Riko

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Summary: Christmas clichés don't just happen in movies and books. At least that's what You decided when she asked Riko out on a date this Christmas.

With her heart drumming loud in her ears and frequently reddening cheeks, You does her best to gift her girlfriend a perfect holiday date.

Author Notes

Merryyyyy Christmas!!! \^w^/ I’m Secret Santa for someone who loves YouRiko and so everyone gets to enjoy YouRiko this Christmas. hehehe~ :P

May you enjoy! XD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You was early.

Early is good.

You smiles nervously as she watched Riko put a beanie over her flowing red hair, scarf fluttering as she took quick steps down the stairs towards the ash-brunette.

She’s so pretty… Ah, I hope this date goes well… This Christmas date!!

“Hey, Riko-chan…Ready for our date?” You manages a cool grin after a quick intake of breath, anything to calm her racing heart and nerves on bringing Riko out on a date on one of the most romantic days in the year.

Riko shakes her head with that gentle expression. “You came by an hour earlier than you should…”

Because I couldn’t wait to see you!

“Do you know how worried I got thinking that I was late?” Riko brushed the sleeves of her coat while You shrugged.

“It was cute how flustered you got.” You smiled wider when Riko gave her a pointed look.

And I also had to do a little setting up…

You stepped closer to help Riko adjust her scarf nicely and Riko’s shoulders relaxed from the comfortable feeling of having You standing so close. “So…this date…”

“Yeah?”

“I thought you weren’t good with the cold?” Riko nodded to their winter wear; she was perfectly okay with the home-date option but You insisted on going out.

“I am…” You drags the silence for a little longer and her head lowered, knowing Riko was trying to read her expression, she looked up with a smirk and playful excitement dancing in her blue hues. “But I figured you’d like some Christmas cliches.”

I’m here to steal your heart and sweep you off your feet, Riko-chan!

The eager swimmer adds a confident wink to her practically glowing beam. Taking big pride in seeing Riko’s beautiful face glow a shade of shy pink.

The pianist’s thumb and pointer finger rub at the ends of her sleeve. “I look forward to it.”

Yes!

You laughs heartily. “Leave it to me!”

The swimmer turns and heads for the door first, Riko following behind. The moment Riko stepped outside, pulling the door to a close, You stepped onto the porch again with a hand on the door and Riko in between.

“Y-You-chan?!” Riko squeaked and backed up against the door.

I can do this. I can do this. Riko-chan likes this right?

“Riko-chan…” You blinks a few times, inching closer subconsciously. “Guess what’s above us.”

“Above us..?” Riko was still feeling light-hearted from being subjected to her all-time favourite kabedon by her all-time favourite person, but looked up she did to see mistletoe hanging above her house’s door. “When did-”

“Hehe.” You pulls her hand back, scratching her cheek with the other. “That’s why I was early.”

Riko’s mouth turns into a small ‘o’ of realization. “So that’s why…”

You nods. “So…”

A kiss under the mistletoe on Christmas is a cliché isn’t it? You’ll…like this…right??

With each passing second of Riko looking at the mistletoe, You was worried Riko didn’t like what she did. With each passing second of Riko staring at her with those hazel eyes leading her eyes to her lips, You was freaking out at the idea of having to take the lead.

Riko saves the day with a giggle and a tease. “Taking a kiss already~?”

You nods many more times; feeling her nervousness seeping out of her just from Riko’s gentle laughter and a reserved smile. “Yeah…You know how much I…like your…kisses…”

You turns her head to the side, averting her eyes.

Ahh gosh, maybe mistletoe kiss as the first cliché was a bad move... for me!

Riko grins and cups You’s cheek with a gentle but firm touch, guiding the blushing ash-brunette over to her.

Riko-chan…

You’s eyes flutter close as her girlfriend presses her lips to hers – kissing her.

Seconds, maybe minutes passed before Riko pulled away and brushed over You’s lips so the ash-brunette quickly opened her eyes to see Riko - Riko smiling lovingly at her.

You's cheeks were a cute strawberry red as she touched her hair, fidgety from her girlfriend's stare. Riko took pride and pleasure in making the usually cool swimmer a blushing mess.

"I thought you weren't too good with Public display of affections?" Riko returns a wink; payback for earlier.

You grunts. "It had to be a surprise so..."

Putting it indoors would be easily spotted by you...

The pianist giggles. "You're such a hard worker."

That's a good thing, right?" You asks worriedly.

Riko taps You's nose affectionately, humour in her eyes. "Yes, silly."

Ah...that's good!!

You lets out a sigh of relief before realizing she is on the receiving end of teases and seems to be blushing more than her girlfriend is.

Wait! This isn't right! Riko-chan should be the one getting her heart pounding hard because of me!!

You turns around and steps beside Riko, offering a hand for the pianist to take.

Riko gladly puts her hand in You's. They barely took a few steps when You whispers in Riko's ears, "That's one."

"Eh?" Riko visibly stiffens, expression surprised and cheeks rosy.

You smiles from ear to ear at making Riko flustered. "One of the Christmas clichés I've got in store for ya!"

You laughs; extra jolly and ready to give Riko a perfect date.

Riko lets You take the lead.

Time flew by as they walked around the streets and soon it was night, You guided Riko to where all the Christmas lights were flickering alive and bringing the couple into a new world.

Riko turned a full circle in awe. You stared for as long as she could.

"Beautiful...right?"

I just wanted to spend Christmas with you...

"It's really beautiful!" Riko's eyes reflected a million lights but her childlike smile outshone it all.

Regardless of where…

You breathes out a puff of cold air. "You are..."

Riko stopped looking left and right and all around. "What..?"

"Nothing." You says quickly. "Nothing but...pretty Christmas lights that I...wanted you to see..."

Oh gosh, did Riko-chan hear me??

Riko hummed thoughtfully, You thought she was busted.

Did she hear what I say? Did she hear that I said she was really beautiful??

You gulped.

It would be so embarrassing to be caught being awestruck and lovestruck by my girlfriend...

Riko subjected You to a few moments more of nervous silence before she giggled and the mood dissipated back to peaceful. “Are you blushing~?”

“I-I’m not…” You pulls her scarf higher above her mouth to cover her cheeks and looked away, knowing her heart wouldn’t be any calmer if she took another good look of Riko illuminated by the Christmas lights.

Riko-chan is totally teasing me again.

“You-chan…” Riko calls quiet and sweet.

You turns back and her eyes widened. Raising her head to notice the Christmas lights for itself and tiny white flecks floating down to the ground and around them. “It’s…”

“Snowing.” Riko finished for the ash-brunette who lifted her hands to catch some.

“It’s a White Christmas huh~” You scratched her cheek shyly and Riko wondered why.

To think that my wish came true…

“It is… We are lucky.” Riko comments, taking a step closer to her girlfriend, bumping shoulders.

Riko-chan…

You looks over to Riko who was looking right ahead and the biggest Christmas tree, but the swimmer noticed Riko’s hand edging her way, brushing along hers a little.

Ah…You’re really the kindest girl out there…

You intertwines Riko’s hand with hers. Her heart skipping several happy beats when Riko returns a reassuring squeeze.

They stood there basking in an aura and emotion of love, admiring the lights change and danced around them. The chatter of couples and families around You was drowned out from her heartbeat drumming away. And the snowy, wintry cold a distant feeling as You got all the warmth she needed from being connected with Riko, from Riko leaning close and holding hands.

Oh, right!

You faces Riko and whispers into the unexpecting pianist’s ear, “This is one too…”

Ouch!!

Riko gripped You’s hand too tightly and pulled away apologizing. “Sorry, wait, you mean..?”

Riko-chan has a strong grip!

“Huh? Ahh, yeah! The Christmas lights…” You smiles. “That’s a number one Christmas cliché, no?”

Riko stares back for a few seconds before she shook her head. “It’s definitely high on the list.”

You nods in agreement. “Did you like it..?”

“Christmas lights?”

“Yeah.”

“A lot.”

Riko’s smile was all the acknowledgement the high diver needed.

Oh. The snow is really falling…

You steps closer to Riko again, just like how she did in the morning and reached up to brush off snow that has gathered considerably on the composer’s beanie and coat. “Wouldn’t want you hidden in the snow.”

Riko’s shoulder shook from laughter. “I wouldn’t want that too.”

Partway of brushing the snow off, You found herself getting lost in hazel eyes that sparkled and shined like no other. Captivated the ash-brunette.

I could stay lost forever…

You leaned closer.

And I wouldn’t mind…

You’s nose touched Riko’s first before their lips met.

Riko-chan…

You moves her lips against Riko’s.

I love you…

And she closed her eyes, kissing Riko full and slow and if she had to describe it, she’d call it – Christmas Magic.

Separating after an unknown amount of time, You’s face was bright red and Riko’s hands were cupping those rosy cheeks when she deepened the kiss subconsciously.

You clears her throat and Riko held You’s hand to give her another reassuring squeeze. “R-Ready to go home?”

“Oh…That’s all?”

You smiles; a hint of cheeky poking out of her shy blush. “I believe we’ll have more Christmases together…to give you more clichés…”

“Ah…You-chan…” Riko’s body shook, eyes watery and tugging You’s hand over to her. “Thank you for the best Christmas I could never have imagined.”

Anything for you..!

You flashes Riko a HUGE smile. And fell back a step to pull Riko along. “Merry Christmas, Riko-chan~”

Riko laughed at You’s energy. “Merry Christmas.”

“Now let’s go full speed ahead to some hot chocolate!!” You sneaks a salute to Riko who was happy to be led anywhere by You.

“Yousoro~” The pianist sang, grinning from ear to ear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author Notes

Merry Christmas~ ^w^ Ho! Ho! Ho!

I hope y’all mega enjoyed this story to bits!! Hehe~ >w<

It was a wholeeee lot of fun to write! And to just stop and think about how loving You and Riko are..!! Ughhh, I love them!! *O*

There was also a whole lot of cliches to choose from, which I would love for y’all to leave more in the comments! What other Winter/Christmas cliches are there?

Let me know so I can write more YouRiko cliché moments hehehe :3

Ah, and let me know your favourite parts of this story! ;D

Until then…Have a Merry Jolly Happy Smiley Christmas, y’all!! ^w^//

#youriko #watanabe you #sakurauchi riko #fanfic #writing #fanfiction #love live #love live sunshine #romance #fluff #Christmas #merry christmas #cliche #you watanabe #riko sakurauchi

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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The Electra Complex, 1 (Crygi, Jankie, JaidaxNicky) - Scarlet Bloo

A/N: This is my first multi-chapter fic! This first chapter is mostly Gigi-centric, however that will change in future chapters. Big thanks to Hy-Jinkx for beta reading this, it wouldn’t flow as well without you.

Trigger Warning: There are some mentions of underage drinking in this chapter, which I know isn’t always seen to be a big issue, but I just wanted to be on the safe side.

Summary: Gigi Goode has been shipped away to Missouri, where she meets at group full of big personalities and a lot of emotions. This follows 7 girls as they navigate new love, old feelings and past demons.

Wherever Gigi Goode went, a series of admirers would follow; at least, that’s how it always used to be back in LA. You could’ve taken one look at her and come to the conclusion that she was living the dream. She was the cheer captain, her grades were consistently higher than the average student and she had the perfect all-American boyfriend. She was on track to becoming valedictorian and prom queen, had she only stayed on at Arcasio High. Her shoulder length blonde locks were always carefully styled and sculpted, and she wouldn’t be seen without her long, pastel acrylics and coordinating outfits. If you weren’t in Gigi’s small circle of friends, then you idolised them. And if you were? Well, then you’d be vying for Gigi’s position as top dog. Los Angeles Gigi was a trope from a 2000s movie personified, and while she wasn’t particularly happy with her life, the validation from her peers satisfied her. She was worried she wouldn’t be able to say the same about this new Springfield Gigi. She hated change, it just didn’t sit right with her.

The last drastic change in her life occurred when her dad finally left the picture for good, around 8 months before she was shipped away to live with her cousin, Nicky. Gigi had a rocky relationship with her father from the moment she was old enough to recognise him, and to recognise patterns. He’d be in and out, showering Gigi and her mother with gifts on every return, but with each departure, he would rob Gigi of something possibly more important than Louboutins or countless bottles of Chanel No.5, the scent that had become her signature; he had robbed her of the ability to express her feelings.

He taught her to keep emotions bottled up and to repress natural feelings, instead nursing wounds with piles of money. Contrary to her relationship with her father, Gigi and her mother were always extremely close, but Gigi knew she’d ruined that. Why else would her mom decide she’d be better suited living with her Aunt and cousin in Springfield of all places?

“Gigi, mon amour!” Nicky exclaimed, running up to her with open arms. The cousins exchanged kisses on either cheek. Nicky pulling Gigi into an embrace. She knew things had been rough, and despite both girls’ tough exterior, they’d always had a special bond. Gigi could remember countless Christmases and Thanksgivings when they were small and spent curled up in a blanket fort watching Barbie movies - Nicky loved The Nutcracker while Gigi first discovered her fixation for tailored jackets while watching Barbie and the Three Musketeers. Nicky’s small house was very sophisticated, decorated and furnished almost entirely in black and white, with interesting marble sculptures bordering the hallway. The two girls walked upstairs to the bedroom they’d be sharing whilst Gigi was in Missouri.

“So, Gigi,” Nicky started with a sigh. Gigi looked down at her feet, cracking her knuckles to keep her focus off of Nicky and her next words.

“What did you actually… do?” Nicky paused, trying to correctly word what she would say next without sounding overly blunt. She was prone to being slightly too forward, partially due to a slight language barrier (French being her first language), but mostly because it was just the way her mind worked. A simple to-the-point question should logically provide her with a simple to-the-point answer - and Nicky liked it when things went like that.

“If it’s okay,” the L.A native began in a slightly sour tone, completely ignoring Nicky’s words, “I’d like to have a rest before dinner.”

Nicky was aware of the obvious avoidance, but she decided to let her cousin be for the meantime; her mother hadn’t told her what had happened with Gigi to make her move in with them, but she knew it must’ve been pretty serious. Gigi and her mom, Nicky’s aunt, had a bond she almost envied - she couldn’t think of any reason why she’d willingly send her away. The girl pouted slightly, pondering the severity of the situation for a few moments more, before leaving Gigi to rest and going downstairs to help her mom with food preparation.

Gigi walked into the bar, legs out, flaunting her doll-like figure. She was dressed in a tiny baby pink tennis skirt, and matching crop top. Her mom had shouted at her for “dressing like a pinup,” as she had called it, but Gigi just shrugged it off. She didn’t care what her mom had to say at that moment. She knew she was probably being unfair, that her mom cared about her and only wanted the best, but she needed to blame someone else for everything that went down so she could live with herself. Gigi cocked her head to the side, trying to snatch the attention of the first man to catch her eye. A gruff looking man, probably in his early 50s, his American tan glaringly obvious in the dim lighting, smiled at the 16 year old, biting his bottom lip ever so slightly. She gave him bambi eyes, giggling slightly as she walked towards him. She was nervous, of course she was, but the adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her system aided her greatly in feigning confidence.

“Hey, Candy bear.” he smirked at her, putting his hand on her cheek, “what can I do for you?”

Gigi wanted to shudder, but she managed to maintain her composure, and instead cooed, “I wanna be adored.”

The man slowly nodded, forcefully stealing a kiss from the girl, who submitted, kissing him back. As soon as he pulled away, she ran off, walking as confidently as she could out of the bar. She took a stick of bubblegum out of her bra, hoping it’s minty flavour would remove the lingering smell of liquor from her lips, as she rushed home before her mother awoke.

“Geege?” Nicky stood in front of her cousin, worry evident in her eyes. Gigi had zoned out. She snapped back into real life, “yeah Nics?” She looked towards the vanity where Nicky was seated, adjusting her hair in the large, illuminated mirror. Nicky’s room was barely big enough to fit both girls’ beds, so it was slightly cramped, but it was still very minimalist, very Nicky.

“I was just saying,” Nicky continued, “I should add you to the group chat of my friends and I - it’ll help you meet people before school starts.”

Gigi smiled, she was grateful that Nicky was being so welcoming, despite having to give up her room.

“Go on then, what harm could it do?”

TheNickyDoll added TheGigiGoode

JanJanJan: Ahhh hi !! I’m Jan, nice to meet you!!!!

JaidaEHall: Jan, chile, calm down you’re gonna scare her off

JackieCox: Hi, I’m Jackie.

And yeah, Janny, Jaida’s right, calm down baby.

TheGigiGoode: Hey, everyone <3

Thanks for letting me join, you guys are the first people I’ve spoken to here other than my family!

HeidiNCloset: Heyy

JanJanJan: I’m sorry y’all I’m just excited !!

Gigi was relieved to find that she hit it off quite well with Nicky’s friends, whose personalities seemed to be so big she could get a good sense of what they were each like through the screen. Jan was very enthusiastic, Gigi noted immediately. She and Heidi both seemed super sweet, but in different ways - Heidi definitely seemed to crack a lot more jokes. Jan bombarded Gigi with questions about L.A, before Jackie pretty much ordered her to get some sleep. Jackie and Jaida were definitely the two most level headed of the group, Jaida seeming to lead group discussions and Jackie undertaking a more protective role. However, when looking through the list of group members, she noticed one more account that hadn’t interacted in the group chat yet. She was about to ask Nicky who Crystal Methyd was, but when she turned to Nicky’s side of the bedroom she found her fast asleep, in a silk set of pyjamas with her hair in rollers. Gigi knew the only way to get answers now was to stalk her instagram. Luckily, she wasn’t private, so Gigi spent the next 30 minutes looking through her feed. Crystal had curly red hair, and dressed very…. eccentrically, Gigi thought. As if by magic, Gigi then got a notification that made her almost jump out of her skin.

CrystalMethyd: Hey everyone! What have I missed? You know how out of the loop I get when I’m painting.

Gigi waited for a couple of seconds before forming a reply, praying one of the other girls would initiate a conversation she could then jump in on. She wanted to talk to this girl, but she didn’t want to do it alone, not when she knew close to nothing about her. Gigi sighed, she’d have to just go for it and respond to the message. That’s how you get anywhere in life, she knew that.

TheGigiGoode: Hey, idk if Nicky told you, but I’m her cousin. She added me to the chat so I could meet you all before school starts up.

CrystalMethyd: She did!

I’m Crystal, but you know that from my account of course.

Gigi and Crystal spoke for a while longer, their conversations jumping from favourite food (Gigi liked pasta, Crystal liked pizza, and they were both still obsessed with fruit snacks), to movies Crystal cried over (Marlie and Me. Toy Story, The Notebook, and the list goes on) and ones they both hated. At around 3am, Crystal made the decision to move the conversation to private dms, to avoid spamming her friends as they slept. This new, more intimate setting, and the early hour, seemed to pull feelings on feelings out of the two girls as they began to open up more with each other. If an outsider was to read the messages, they’d never have guessed Gigi hadn’t been aware of Crystal’s existence until just hours earlier. Gigi felt a strange yearning to open up to this girl, who seemed to be so clear about how she felt, but a part of her mind wouldn’t let her even type the words out. Guilt passed through her gut as Crystal explained her worries about her future, how she wanted to be an artist, but her parents weren’t sure whether she’d be able to make a long lasting, stable career out of it. Gigi wished she had half the vulnerability the girl possessed. It sure would make this whole making friends thing a whole lot easier. The light peaking through Nicky’s pitch black blinds startled Gigi, so she said her goodnights to Crystal, who wished her “Sweet dreams, Miss Goode.”

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #jan sport #jackie cox #jaida essence hall #nicky doll #heidi n closet #crygi #jankie #jaida x nicky #high school au #lesbian au #the electra complex #scarlet bloo #submission #s12

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writethehousedown · 5 years ago

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umbrella. (Jackie/Jan) -- meggie

A/N: Hello hi. This is from the teachers!AU universe, but it focuses on two of the students instead. (A concept.) Y’all know I’m in love with Jan by now, so of course, I was going to include her. This is also a response to a prompt I got a couple of weeks ago from an Anon (Jackie/Jan, “let me take you home”).

Thank you, Mia, for looking over this, and THANK YOU, MAC, for my Cameo from Jan!!! It was exactly what I needed for inspiration for life. Love you both big big big.

Let me know what you think! I’m @janssports

Jan is walking home from school in the rain when it finally happens.

Her umbrella has been on its last legs for some time now, the metal skeleton underbelly warped just enough to make it a little bit floppy on the backside, but Jan doesn’t care, because it’s her favorite umbrella and it was the last gift she got from her grandmother before she passed five years ago and she’s been hesitant to replace it because that would feel like replacing Nanny and Jan isn’t quite ready to do that yet.

Anyway.

But she’s walking home from school, purple polka dotted umbrella held aloft, every once in a while tilting her head up to the sky to let the drops of moisture fall on her skin when there’s a gust of wind that catches her umbrella in just the wrong way and the whole thing collapses on her head.

“Well, fuck,” she mutters, the curse word heavy and unfamiliar in her mouth. It’s pouring now, and she’s been standing there, contemplating the demise of her poor umbrella for a mere 20 seconds and she’s already soaked. And she still has quite a way to go until she gets home.

She could have ridden the bus, like she usually does on rainy days, but it had just been sprinkling when school let out, and sometimes she likes to walk in the light rain; it clears her head, letting her recenter after her day at school. Especially with her umbrella from Nanny in her hands. It’s almost like they’re having a conversation. Almost like she can hear the woman’s voice in her head giving her advice, telling her what she needs to know.

“Guess that’s over now.” Jan twists the umbrella in her hand, looking for any redemptive qualities although she knows that it’s too far gone to be saved. She has other umbrellas: her parents have bought her umbrellas for the last two Christmases, ever since her cousin Rose stepped on the umbrella and caused the first flaw. But this one feels special, sentimental. She can’t just give up on it.

She trudges on, the rain cold as it trickles down her back in rivulets, and Jan shudders a little. The light cardigan she’d wrapped herself in before leaving the house this morning is doing very little to keep her warm now. It doesn’t wick the water away from her skin at all; it feels something like wearing a wet towel draped over her shoulders.

She’s miserable, on the verge of tears, and positive that all the homework in her bag is going to be ruined when a silver car slows on the road beside her.

Jan puts her head down and keeps walking. This isn’t the first time a creepy guy has stopped and asked to give her a ride, and while she may look naive and dumb, she listens to far too many true crime podcasts to fall for that helpful nice guy nonsense.

“Hey, Jan!” The voice is female and almost drowned out by the driving rain, but she ignores it just the same. So what if they know her name?

“You’re Jan, right?” The voice calls to her again, and this time (mostly out of curiosity), Jan turns her head to look.

“Hey!” Jackie Cox waves her over upon making eye contact. “Oh my god, girl, get in the car. It’s pouring!”

Jan knows Jackie. Well. She doesn’t know her, but she knows of her. (She’s always admired her a little.) Plus Brianna is friends with Jackie (as vice president, Jackie is heir apparent to Brianna’s student body presidency) and Jan and Brianna are close. So she guesses that makes her friends by proxy with Jackie, which is more than reason enough for Jan to consider accepting a ride.

She must be hesitating for far too long because Jackie waves to her again. “Come on. Let me take you home?”

The facts were, as Jan saw them, fairly straight forward: Jackie was probably not a serial killer. If she was, then she managed to organize her day in a way that Jan envied, because not only was Jackie involved in student council, but she also started on the girls’ lacrosse team, served as secretary of the history club, and had the highest grade point average in the junior class.

So yes. Jan knew Jackie, admired her even, and if Brianna trusted her, it was probably okay for Jan to do the same.

So she quirks her lips to the side, shakes out her stringy, sopping hair, and jogs to the side of the car.

Once she’s settled, Jan shoves her poor broken umbrella in the side pocket of her backpack and studies the interior of the car. It’s pristine, as she would have guessed. Jackie is not a messy kind of person; she’s meticulous and careful and perfect. It’s another reason Jan has always been a little bit fascinated with her. Jackie is, truly, everything Jan wishes she was.

“Oh, here.” Jackie reaches over to the center console and twists knobs until the heat blasts on Jan’s feet. “God, you must be freezing. What are you doing walking in this mess?”

“My umbrella broke,” Jan offers feebly. “And I kind of didn’t know how to react. I…” She sighs. “It’s dumb, and it’s just an umbrella, but it means a lot.”

Jackie nods, but doesn’t look convinced. “Just tell me where I’m going, okay?”

“Straight until Sinclair,” Jan says, tucking her hands under her thighs. “Your car’s going to be trashed. I’m so sorry.”

Jackie brushes her off with a wave of her hand. “No biggie. Besides, I’d rather have a messy car than have you get pneumonia out there. What are you doing walking in all this rain?”

Jan shrugs. “I like walking. Gives me time to think. Plus it’s good exercise. Good for the lung capacity.” She hates herself in this instant. Wishes she could take back everything she’s said since Jackie picked her up.

“Oh yeah!” Jackie nods. “You’re really into show choir, aren’t you? Like the main soloist or whatever.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jan’s cheeks burn hot and she ducks her head. “I mean, we don’t really have a ‘main soloist,’ but Ms. Act has been really nice to give me some solos this year.”

“Most solos from what I’ve heard,” Jackie tacks on quickly. “But anyway.”

“Yeah.”

Jan wonders for a brief moment how exactly Jackie knows that she’s been given more than one solo this year. Logically, she just assumes that Brianna has mentioned it. But the girl never gives Jan information about Jackie or Kameron or really any of her other friends that Jan doesn’t know very well.

“So where am I going now?”

Lost in her thoughts, Jan has completely missed the fact that they’ve turned onto Sinclair, so she gestures wildly with her right hand. “Just straight. I live off Upton, so it’s a few more blocks.”

Jackie snickers. “Upton and Sinclair.”

“Yeah, I know.” She rolls her eyes. “I think that’s half the reason my dad bought the house in the first place. He calls the house The Jungle, which is just… It’s so stupid.” Why is she still talking?

“No!” Jackie insists. “I think it’s cute.”

Silence descends on them once more, and Jan watches house after house pass by, still wondering how exactly Jan knows things about her.

You’ll never find out until you just ask, she practically hears her nanny’s voice in her head.

So despite her instincts to just shut the hell up, Jan clears her throat. “You, umm. You pay attention to the show choir? I thought most people just made fun of us.”

Jackie’s mouth falls open. “Oh my god, why? That’s awful.”

Jan shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like we’re that good.”

“Now that Ms. Act’s taken over, you guys are pretty good,” the other girl says. “And since you started getting the solos.”

Jan blushes again, tells herself it’s just the blast of the car’s heater, and not the way that Jackie keeps looking over at her and smiling that tiny, genuine smile that kind of makes Jan burn hot all over.

It’s definitely the heater.

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I’m the fourth house on the left,” she mutters quietly, pointing at the towering brick structure as the car pulls closer.

Jackie drives around the cul-de-sac and parks just in front of Jan’s house. “Here you go,” she says brightly. “Still damp, but… Maybe not as wet as you would have been.”

Jan blushes harder and reaches for the door handle. “Thank you,” she says sincerely. “Seriously. I can’t imagine what that walk would have been like if you hadn’t come along.”

“Wet,” Jackie deadpans, then smiles that radiant, lovely grin over at her.

Jan giggles. “You’re right. Well. Thanks again.” She gathers her backpack, tugs on the handle, and has just stepped onto the sidewalk after closing the door when she hears the power window roll down.

“I’ll see you around school, yeah?” Jackie asks, her voice full of optimism and (Jan could totally be misreading this) hope. (She thinks it’s hope. It really sounds like hope. She really hopes it’s hope.)

“I’d love that,” Jan says and smiles.

She stands on the stoop and watches the tail lights of the car until they disappear from view.

***

Jackie’s waiting for Jan at her locker between second and third period the next morning, a pale purple gift bag dangling from her hand.

“Hey!” She waves as she steps aside, allowing Jan access to her locker. “Sorry, god, this is really creepy. It really wasn’t this creepy when I thought it out in my head.”

Jan shakes her head. “It’s not creepy. I guess Brianna told you where my locker was?”

“Correct,” Jan says. “I just wanted to give you this.” She holds out the bag to Jan and bounces a little.

Jan pulls the bag open and glances inside. It’s her broken umbrella. But it looks slightly… Less broken.

“Did you fix it?” Jan asks incredulously. “I thought it was totally wrecked.”

Jackie nods. “Well, it was a challenge. But my mom helped me. She’s pretty handy. I don’t know. I found it in my car, noticed it was broken and… It seemed like it was really important to you.”

“It is.” Jan lunges forward and captures Jackie in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“No biggie.” Jackie shrugs. “Really. It was a pleasure.”

Jan could be imagining it, but she could swear that Jackie blushes a little as she smiles at her.

#rpdr fanfiction #jackie cox/jan sport #jackie cox #jan sport #meggie #lesbian au #high school au #fluff #spring fling week 2020 #day 2: umbrella #submission

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katybaby00 · 5 years ago

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Life as I knew it

Pairings: Young!Dean x reader (underage), Dean x reader (tiny) age gap, season 3 Dean.

Warnings: NSFW, (MoC), tiny bit of angst of you squint, definite slow burn, slight dub-con, smut, that’s it. 18+ there is the sex!

Authors note: alright! So before you read you must know that this is my first story I’m ever posting. So yes this is an original piece! I’ve wrote before when I was like 13-14 but that’s just... scary to think about. So!! My inbox and page are always open for your requests and criticism as well. Also everything in italics are flash backs! Enjoy my loves!

Word count: 5,176

(GIF is not mine)

You knew it was wrong. You knew that working woth the Winchester’s was a bad idea.

Your father, Clint, was a wonderful man. Sweet, kind, honest, and trustworthy. He had grown up with John Winchester. They were inseparable, "attached at the hip" as my mother, Grace, used to say. My mother and I had always stayed home when my father went on "business trips". That's how I had grown up with Dean, him being only 5 years older than me. My mother and I were always over at John and Mary's home. My mom and Mary became close friends. Mary and her would talk about where my dad was when John was busy with us kids, not wanting him to know of his "job". Dean and I became very close very fast. Him and those damn green eyes. I developed a very large crush on the boy at a very young age. I guess it just never went away. John had no clue about the hunting life until the night Mary died. He started hunting and dragging his boys along with him.

Naturally Sam and Dean spent a lot of time around my family. It was mainly the boys and my mother and I, because John would almost always convince my father to go with him. When I turned 11, my father died. He was in a car accident involving a drunk driver. We always thought he would go out hunting. My mother died at the hands of a demon when I was 15. I have been on my own ever since.

~Present~

Another town. Another demon. Another case. Time just seemed to blur by. Drinking, fucking, and hunting. Rinse and repeat. Nothing special. Being 25 now, I knew I wasn't going to settle down and have the "apple pie life".

Quietly my phone started buzzing on the bathroom counter, Bobby Singer, "What the hell could he want at this hour?" I thought out loud. "Hey Bobby, how have you been?" I said while spitting my toothpaste into the sink. "Hey Y/N, I was wondering if you have heard from Sam or Dean?" "No Bobby, Dean is an ass who left me on my porch crying, and Sam is too tall for his own good, so it's been a couple years since I have seen or heard of them. Why?" Bobby sighs on the other end, "I was afraid of that, they got into some trouble down in Mississippi, haven't returned my million phone calls. Was wondering if maybe you could pop on down and check on them?" I could hear the silent pleading in his tone. I know this is going to be a bad idea. "Yeah, I guess i can. Anything for you Bobby. I'll call if things get too out of control." He laughs happily, "Okay Y/N, thank you, I owe you one." "Damn right you do Singer. Now, what town?" "They are in Ocean Springs, at the Siegel Select Gautier motel, right off Route 90. That's the last I heard. Room 19. Let me know what you find." You write down the address on an old piece of paper from the motel. "Thanks Bobby."

As you head out on your quest to save these fucking Winchesters, you turn up the radio and blast some boy band that's got you hooked. Your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. Dean Winchester... "Son of a bitch!" Picking up the phone you put it to your ear, "Y/N, I need your help, it's Sam." You scoff into the phone, "I swear to god Dean! You always think you need me to help clean up your mess! Ever since we were fucking kids! But since it's Sam... I guess I have no choice. Right?" Dean is hesitant at first and then he finally breathes, "Y/N, I'm sorry for all of the things that have happened in the past. I'm not the same person I was back then and I am so fucking sorry for everything," He takes a deep breathe, "please help me?" Taking a deep breathe, you sigh, "Dean I'm on my way now. Bobby called me and said you probably would need my help. So I packed my shit and I'm on my way. Don't get mushy and shit about it." Dean chuckles into the speaker. "Okay. You know I don't do that chick-flick bullshit. I'll see you when you get here. Bye Y/N." You pause, "Bye dean," He hung up the phone, "I love you...".

Pulling into the motel in this shit-hole town, you see the Impala in all her glory parked in front of room 19. Parking right next to the beautiful car. Getting out of your shit-box truck Bobby had given you for your 16th birthday. You patted the top of baby, "Hey sweetheart. You look good." You said as you walked past the car.

Tomorrow is your 18th birthday. Ever since your family died and you were left alone you never really celebrated. That was until this year. You were sitting on the front porch listening to the summer breeze wrestle the trees when you heard the sound of a familiar engine rolling up your driveway. As usual, Dean was behind the wheel and Sam in the front seat. They looked older. Dean looked very… mature. Sam is still the tall and goofy giant he has always been. I have missed them. Mainly Dean.

Stepping out of the car Dean grabs you in a big hug lifting you off the ground. You breathe him in and your stomach clenches. Whiskey, gunpowder, and leather. “I missed you D.” He chuckled deeply and you felt the rumble in your chest, “I missed you too sweetheart.” The nickname makes your cheeks heat up. He put you down and Sam wrapped you in a hug and you both said you missed each other. “What are you guys doing here?” Following them to the trunk. “We wouldn’t miss your 18th birthday for the world Y/N, and besides, you’ve always made the best pie.” That made Sam let out a chuckle. “You guys really didn’t have to come, it wouldn’t be the first birthday I've spent alone.” Trailing off you started walking to the house. Sam stops in front of you, “Y/N, we know how hard it is spending birthdays, christmases, and thanksgivings alone. This is a big birthday for you and we wanted you to have a good one. So that's why we are here.” He looks at you sincerely. Dean comes up next to you, and puts his hands on your shoulders, slightly rubbing, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Thanks guys. I appreciate it.” Smiling genuinely.

Once inside and the boys being settled into their spare rooms. You grab your mother's old cook book and get to work on one of the boys favorite to have when they used to come over. Sam comes to stand in the doorway leaning against the frame, “Hey, you need some help?” You turn around and look at him, “As long as you don’t get in my way Winchester, you can chop some tomatoes.” “Sounds like a plan boss.” He says while he shoots you a wink. Sam has never made you uncomfortable. Being almost the same age you guys had always been best friends. That is one thing that has never changed, and hopefully never will.

Finishing up dinner you call for Dean to come eat but he doesn’t respond. That’s odd, you thought. “I’m going to get Dean, I’ll be right back.” Walking up the stairs you go past your room and then Sam’s. As you get to Dean’s door and are about to knock you hear grunting on the other side. Taking a few steps back and then putting your ear to the door you hear Dean breathing heavily. Grunts and moans coming from his mouth. “Oh… fuck… Y/N.” You take a couple steps back from the door. Never in a million years would you think that Dean fucking Winchester would be interested in you. Knowing EXACTLY what he is doing in there. You knock. “Shit, h-hold on. One second.” “Hey D, dinner is ready.” Dean slaps his hand on his thigh, probably hoping you didn’t hear what he had just been doing. “Yeah, okay, I’ll be down in just a second.”

Sitting at the dinner table you try not to stare a hole through Dean. wondering that maybe you probably just imagined the whole thing. ‘Damn you are really going to have to get a hold of this crush Y/N’ which you thought you had said in your head but apparently the whole table had heard. “What was that Y/N?” You’re in shock. You don’t know what to say, “O-oh n-nothing, just thinking.” Sam leans over and puts his hand on yours. “Whatever it is, you can tell us, we are practically your big brothers.” He said with a chuckle. Well damn Sam way to punch me in the gut like that. Dean sits at the end of the table nursing his beer. “Do you guys want dessert? I made pie.” Dean immediately perks up. “Hell yeah we want pie. Are you kidding?” Getting up to grab the pie off the counter, you can feel someone staring holes into the back of your head. ‘I wonder who that could be‘. Turning around you catch Dean's eyes staring right at your ass. “You know what. You boys enjoy your pie. I’m going to go shower and get in bed. It's been a long day.” You gave Sam a goodnight kiss on the forehead and patted Dean's shoulder.

After showering and putting on some cozy pajamas you walk back to your room and find that your bed is not so empty. “Dean?” He jumps when he hears you. “What are you doing… in my bed?” He stares at you and walks towards you. He wraps you into a big hug and kisses the top of your head. “I just wanted to be the first one to tell you Happy Birthday.” Looking over at the clock on your nightstand you realize it’s 12:02, “Oh D, thank you.” “You should get some sleep sweetheart. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Goodnight Y/N.” You squeeze him back. “Goodnight D.”

You awoke the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee, bacon, eggs, toast, and pancakes. Wondering who was cooking that amazing food in your kitchen. Turning into the kitchen your eyes go wide at the freshly squeezed orange juice, fresh cut strawberries, pineapple, kiwi, and cantaloupe. Taking a strawberry off the table you take a bite and look at everything else. “Oh! Good morning Y/N, how did you sleep?” Sam came into the kitchen wearing his grey sleep pants and a white cotton shirt. “Happy birthday Y/N. I see Dean has out done himself this morning.” “Yeah, you’re definitely not wrong. Speaking of Dean. Where is he?” Just as you said that he comes into the kitchen in plaid pajama pants, black T-shirt, and a kiss the cook apron. “Good morning sleepy heads!” He bellowed in excitement. “D, did you do all of this by yourself?” He grabs you in a side hug and squeezes a little. “I sure did. It’s your 18th birthday. You deserve nothing but the best sweetheart. Now sit and eat. We've got plans today.” You sit in your usual spot, grabbing eggs, bacon, and pancakes topped with strawberries. You dug in and caught Dean stealing quick little glances at you while you shovel your face full of the delicious food. Sam is looking between the two of you, almost knowingly. “So guys, what’s the plan for today? I need to know so I can either wear shorts or a dress.” Dean chokes a little on his eggs and washes it down with a gulp of coffee. “Sorry about that,” He chuckles, “we have decided that you’re going to go hunting with us. Simple salt and burn. For your birthday.” Tears welled into your eyes. You sniffed because you always thought your father would have taken you. But now you’re sitting here with the Winchester’s, they tell you that you’re going hunting for your birthday. Your mind was trying to wrap around it. “I would love that so much!” You jumped up wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck and he pulled you into his lap. Making your cheeks heat up. You kissed his cheek and walked over to Sam wrapping your arms around him too. “Well come on guys let’s go!” “Woah, hold on there Y/N. we have to get all of our bags and things packed. I need to make sure baby is in tip top shape before we just hop on the road. So Sam is taking you into town to get you some boots and some pants and other things that you might need.” You chuckle and walk to the hallway closet, open the door, and flip on the light, “Dean, trust me. I am more than prepared for this occasion.” He walks up to the closet that is covered with warding symbols and sigils of all kinds. Guns, knives, lore books, and holy water line the shelves neatly. Your dad’s journal at the very top. “You did all this yourself?” You nod. “Well I’m impressed. Right Sammy?” Sam clears his throat and walks over to the closet where you and Dean are standing. “This is most definitely impressive.”

Walking up to room 19 you sigh before you knock knowing who is on the other side. Knock. Knock. The door swings open before you have time to even get a word out, you are wrapped in a rib crushing hug. “Oh my god! Dean. let me go. I can’t,” gasping for air he loosened his grip. “Breathe. I missed you too.” Saying those words felt like a kick to the chest. You knew he didn’t feel the same way you always have. Maybe when you were younger. But definitely not now. “Alright. Let’s get down to business so I can get out of here.” setting your bag down on one of the dusty motel beds. Dean frowns. Not knowing what to think. “Why do you say that? Haven’t missed me?” You chuckle turning to look at him, “Dean. You can’t be serious? It’s been 7 years, you have obviously already forgotten. So I won’t bring it up again. We can talk about it when you remember how you left.”

He just stares at you. He walks over to the fridge, grabs a beer and tosses you one too. “Alright,” he began, “Sam fell into hell, h-” You choke on your beer and spit it onto the floor. Interrupting him. “He WHAT?!”, Dean fucking Winchester. You better be pulling my fucking leg because if you aren’t I swear to god I will shoot you.” Dean stares at you with wide eyes. Thinking of his response carefully. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. “He fell into hell. More like Adam dragged him down with him. He slipped and now he’s down there. I have been up day and night thinking of what I can do to try and save him. He told me to go and have a normal life, go find Lisa and Ben. But, I can’t give up on my baby brother like that. He didn’t give up on me when I was in hell.” You walk over to him. “Don’t you think you should at least try to have a normal life? For Sam?” He looks at you, tears in his eyes. You’ve never seen this man cry. “I want him back. I don’t want to just give up like that.” “Dean if he told you he wanted you to try and have that life. Then I think you should at least give it the old college try. Go find Lisa and Ben.” He stands, turns to you and pulls you into another hug. “I don’t want Lisa or Ben, I want you.”

When you arrived in some small town in Texas you stepped out to stretch your legs. “You guys hungry? We could get pizza?” Your mouth starts salivating at the thought of a greasy piece of pizza. “That sounds really good.” “You guys can get a pizza, but make sure you grab me a salad too.” Sam says. You laugh at the green giant. Following Sam and Dean into the motel room you see that there are only 2 queen beds. “Rock, paper, scissors for who gets the beds. Whoever loses takes the floor.” Dean looks at Sam with question all in his eyes, “How about the losers have to share a bed?” Sam deadpans. You roll your eyes and stick your hands up, ready to win. In the end Sam won and you and Dean ended up sleeping together.

Later that night while you were about to hop in bed you see Dean put a pillow next to him in the middle of the bed. “Wow Dean. I don’t have cooties you jerk.” “Oh, no, sorry. It’ll just be… safer this way.” You’re definitely confused but you just shrug and climb into the scratchy sheets. Back pressed against the pillow and you can hear Deans breathing start to even out. You slowly sit up to see that he’s asleep and you let the silent tear roll down your cheek.

In the morning you stir awake but only to find that Dean had thrown the pillow to the floor and is down cuddling you. You can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest and his breath fan across your neck leaving goosebumps in its wake. You try to move. To untangle yourself from his hold. To no avail of course, everytime you would try and get away he would just pull you closer. Not realizing until he pressed his hips to your ass. He was hard as a rock. You let a slight whine fall from your lips which must have woke him up because as soon as it happened his whole body went stiff pushing away from you. “Y/n, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You jerk away from his grasp. “Thanks for making me feel better Dean!” Slamming the bathroom door you sit down and cry into your hands. ‘How could he not see it. How could he just push me away. I’m 18. I’m not a child anymore. I haven’t been since my parents died.’ You get up off of the floor and open the bathroom door to see Sam gone, and Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his hair. “I’m going to take a shower, or do I need your permission since you think I’m still a child.” You say as you walk over to your bag on your side of the bed. “Y/n, I never said I thought you were a child. I’m sorry about cuddling you this morning. But I can’t do that to you. You just turned 18 yesterday. I would be taking advantage of you.” “Wow Dean. You know you would think that all the experience you have with women you would know when one was interested in you. I know that I just turned 18 Dean. But guess what? I don’t care if you’re older than me. You could be 10 years older than me and I wouldn’t care. But seeing you literally push me away this morning gives me my answer.” Grabbing your clothes out of your bag you walk into the bathroom slamming the door before Dean could say another word. When you come out dressed and ready to go Sam is back and greets you before walking into the bathroom. “I’m going to grab coffee. Need anything?” Dean just shakes his head. You scoff and walk out.

While in the car with the boys you in the backseat Sam and Dean are discussing the plan for tonight. ‘Simple salt and burn Y/n. Simple salt and burn.’ Trying not to psych yourself out. ‘Everything is going to be fine. It’s all going to be okay. Easy peasy…’ “Y/n,” Sam starts. “I know the first hunt can be a little scary but trust me if you’re anything like your dad you will be just fine.” Giving Sam a genuine smile you look in the rearview mirror to see Dean staring at you. “I’m really glad you guys decided to take me hunting for my birthday. I know how hard the decision must have been.” “Why do you say that?” Well, maybe because Dean thinks I’m still a child and the only reason I felt anything for him is because I have always been alone, you thought to yourself. “Because you both,” adding emphasis on the word both just for Dean, “see me as a little sister, and you would hate for something to happen to me just as bad as I would hate for something to happen to you.” Sam gives you a side smile and Dean just lowers his head and sighs.

It was simple enough. You did just fine. Even Dean was surprised that you handled it so well. You did great research and handled your own. Dean climbs into the driver seat and Sam slides into the passenger side. “Alright Y/n, congrats on your first kill. Now how about some juicy burgers and a beer to celebrate?” Sam looks back at me and smiles. “I’m totally in! Can we try that bar I saw on the way into town?” “Of course we can, birthday girl.” “Dean, my birthday was yesterday.” You deadpanned. Making Sam raise an eyebrow. “Everything, okay with you guys?” “Fine.” You both say. “Hey D? I still have one more thing I would like to do for my birthday.” “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“Y/n, you can not drive my baby this fast you’re going to wreck! Do you even have your license?” You laugh speeding along down some backroad Dean had pulled off on so you could drive. “Of course I do D.” You lied. “Okay. That's enough. Pull over so I can drive. You’re done driving for the rest of your life.” Pulling over you jump out of the driver seat and give Dean a giant hug. “Thank you so much. I have always wanted to drive your car. Since I was little.” “You’re welcome sweetheart.” That damn name. Sam gave you a hug too, He whispers in your ear. “You know you’re lucky right? Dean doesn’t even let me drive his car. Unless absolutely necessary.” That makes your body heat up, you had no idea that even Sam hardly ever got to drive Dean's car. Later the next day you had finally made it home collapsing on the couch and breathing in the scent of your home. “Are you guys going to stay another night or head back out?” Dean is standing in the doorway talking to Sam. As you turn the corner you see them standing there. A hurt look on Sam’s face. “Bye Y/n. I’m really glad that I got to see you and spend time with you on your birthday. I’ll see you around.” You gave Sam a goodbye hug and turned to Dean. “I’m really glad that you guys came and spent time with me. It really means a lot. I know that you have to go and save more lives. So i will see you and Sam around sometime.” Turning to go back into your house Dean grabs you by your upper arm and spins you right into a bruising kiss. His mouth melts against your own. It ends too soon. “Y/n, I love you. But I can’t drag you into this life.” He turns and walks down the steps, down the sidewalk and into the impala. “Dean wait! Please wait! You can’t leave like that!” You fall onto the ground and watch through blurry eyes the impalas taillights fade out of your view.

“Dean. I thought that you didn’t want me? You said you loved me but I thought you meant as a sister. I thought that’s why you told me you didn’t want to drag me into this life. Was because I was like a little sister. Not that you actually loved me.” Dean took a deep breath and grabbed you tighter. “Y/n I love you so much. I always have. That’s what I was going to tell you that night I was waiting for you on your bed. But I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did so I pushed you away. Please don’t hate me for waiting this long to tell you. I was just scared that you would reject me. I-I’m so-.” You crashed your lips to his and pulled his face closer to yours. “Dean Winchester. I have loved you since I was 13. Don’t you ever push me away again.” “I promise Y/n I won’t. Never again. I love you so much. I want to have the apple pie life with you. I don’t want anyone else but you.” “Okay D.”

The kiss continued to deepen as he made his way down to your neck and then your collarbone. He ripped his leather jacket off and then yours. Hands reaching the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. Only breaking the kiss for a few seconds before fisting your hands in his hair and bringing him closer if that was even possible. He broke the kiss and took his shirt off and your hands clung to his biceps and shoulders and chest trying to get a feel of his god like form. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you apart. “Y/n please tell me that you want this and it’s not just me. I want you and I want all of you.” Breathing heavily you grab at the back of his neck and pull his face close enough to feel the heat from his body, “Dean Winchester, if you don’t fuck me like you mean it I’m going to shoot you in the leg.” At that, Dean kisses you and you jump up to wrap your legs around his waist. He grabs at your ass and thighs desperate for any type of friction. His cock is pressed right up against your clit causing just enough friction to make you whine. He grunts in response and tosses you onto the bed and climbs over you. “God Y/n you’re so damn beautiful. Can’t wait to taste you.” You sigh in response and he goes to work. Tugging your shorts and panties down your legs in one swift motion. He climbs up your body and unclasps your bra, tossing it to the floor. Fully naked and exposed underneath him. He groans and runs his hand down your body. From your lips, to your neck, down to your nipples, to your stomach, and finally down to your aching pussy. “God you’re so wet. This all for me?” “God, yes Dean please. I need you.” “Already begging sweetheart? I thought you were stronger than that.” He sinks two thick fingers into you and you clench. He starts slowly thrusting and curling his fingers right into your sweet spot, kissing down your neck and along your collarbone. “Dean.. I.. ah!” You came clenching around his thick fingers. “Fuck Y/n. I need to be inside of you.” He lines up with your entrance and inch by glorious inch he sinks into you. Stretching deliciously along your folds. Bottoming our he lets out a low groan and falls to his elbows next to your head. He’s deeper than you thought possible. “Fuck baby. You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, so tight.” “Dean. Please move!” He slowly drags out of you almost all the way before he snaps his hips forward and and scream leaves your lips. He sets a bruising pace. Your pussy clenching tight around him. You can feel your stomach heat up and the coil tightening. Threatening to snap any minute. He’s so fucking deep. His breathes are coming out ragged and sharp. “Y/n I don’t know how long I can last with you squeezing me like that.” He groans out. Know one has ever been able to fuck you like this. Your orgasm hits you like a cement truck you clench around him, white spots flooding your vision. Not soon after his hips falter and he’s cumming deep inside you. His moans in your ear are the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. He rolls off of you and pulls you into his side and falls asleep.

The next morning you wake up blushing from the events that had occurred the night before. Turning over trying not to wake Dean. You roll out of bed and take a shower. The hot water runs over your aching muscles from last night's previous activities. You take a deep breath. ‘What if he doesn’t feel the same?’

Coming out of the bathroom the steam follows and you see the groggy man in your bed stirring. “Good morning D. Did I wake you up?” “No sweetheart, I just got up. What time is it?” He rolls over and checks his burner phone and groans. “It’s only 9:30. Man I was hoping it was later.” You smile and climb into the bed and snuggle up next to him. “D?” “Yeah Y/n?” “What are we going to do about Sam?” “He told me he’s always wanted me to have a normal life. So I think that I should do just that… with you. Because, you see, baby, I love you I have since we were kids. I thought that since I was older and you were a little younger than me that you would have a thing for Sammy. But you didn’t. It was me all along and I didn’t realize that until your 18th birthday. I’m sorry Y/n. I’ll never leave you again. I promise.” You cuddle up closer to him and pull him tight. “I love you too Dean. Always have. Always will. No matter what, and if a normal like is what you want then a normal life is what you’ll get. I promise.” Dean rolls over and kisses your cheek and scoots closer to you. Grabbing your hip and pulling you closer to him. “I know I’m not one for the mushy moments right?” You sigh and nuzzle into his chest. “Yes Dean. I do. I haven’t been since my parents. I never thought I would love anything ever again. Not until you came along. You waltz in on my 18th birthday and suddenly all of those winks, nicknames, and lingering looks made sense.” Dean just pulls you closer. “Of course they made sense Y/n. I never thought it would work until you practically slapped me with your words. But it worked, and I ain’t ever letting you go.”

Tags::

#dean x reader #supernatural #deanwinchester #spnsmut #supernaturalsmut #smut #dean smut #young dean winchester #spn season 3 #smutty

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sidneycrosbyisawitch · 6 years ago

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what a bright time, it’s the right time.

a (sorta belated) christmas present for lina @betheproof.

the sun has barely risen, gentle and pale through the bedroom windows, when tyler murmurs a grinning “good morning” into jamie’s jaw.

it takes jamie a moment to swim awake through layers of warm blankets and new light and tyler leaning over him.

“you awake?” jamie mumbles, reflexively pressing a sleep clumsy kiss onto tyler’s cheekbone, lips brushing over the tickle of his beard. “riley awake?”

“yeah, we’re up,” tyler leans back, and even through his grogginess, jamie’s smile is immediate and uncontrollable. he pulls himself up on his elbow from beneath the covers.

riley’s mop of dark curls is accented with a tiny red bow and her onesie is covered in red and white reindeer print. tyler wiggles her gently, big hands spanning her ribs where she’s sitting between his crossed legs, and she giggles little chirps of happiness. he ducks down to her ear.

“say ‘merry christmas, daddy. time to wake up,’” tyler prompts, dimple deep and voice soft.

riley valiantly burbles in response, smacking her knees excitedly, and she even manages a few ‘duh, duh’ sounds, so she’s getting there.

“oh, is it christmas already?” jamie asks, pinching riley’s little toes between his fingers. “should we go see what santa brought for you?” he grins at tyler. “she looks amazing. did you take some pictures?”

“did i take some pictures,” tyler scoffs. “we’ve been up since 5:30, of course i took some pictures. and now that you’re up, we can take some more.”

tyler’s been on baby time for the past year, maybe because he’s naturally more of a morning person, but jamie’s positive that even if tyler wasn’t he’d still be up at dawn every morning as the first face riley sees when she blinks awake.

“that sounds good.” jamie smacks a kiss to riley’s nose -- and, god, it already looks so much like tyler’s -- as he sits up before heaving her into the air with a groan.

“i hope santa knows how big you got overnight or none of your presents will fit,” he tells her. she giggles in delight midair, little round face with tyler’s nose and hazel eyes lit up in a joyful half-toothed grin.

the telltale clack of of nails on the hallway floor announces the dogs’ arrival before they nose the bedroom door open. gerry’s first on the bed, as always, wriggling with happiness as the mattress bounces with the addition of his weight. his bandana has candy canes printed all over it. marshall and cash wait, tails wagging, beside the bed with santa and gingerbread men bandanas. the bandanas are actually pretty reserved by tyler’s standards.

“guess the boys are ready, too,” tyler says, scratching gerry’s neck. the rounds of his cheekbones are bright with a huge smile as gerry nuzzles him.

there are very few times that jamie’s seen tyler happier. when they had riley. when they made the playoffs. when jamie moved in, maybe, knowing that this house was intended to be tyler’s forever home in dallas. and right now, cross legged on their duvet on riley’s first christmas morning, wearing a rudolph t-shirt with christmas lights in his antlers spelling out “get lit.” jamie is so fucking in love with him.

jamie tucks riley into his side one-armed and uses the other to pull tyler close, hand cupped around the back of his neck. tyler catches his hands on jamie’s knees.

“merry christmas.” jamie kisses him, light and lingering. “i love you.”

tyler kisses back, and jamie savors the sugary sweetness in his mouth. sunlight falls in cool bright streaks as it rises above the eastern windows; the dogs are huffing and woofing, riley is babbling in jamie’s ear, but, for a moment, everything narrows down to the feeling of tyler’s curls under his hand and the give of his mouth. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, jamie thinks.

it’s cash who starts barking.

tyler pulls back with a laugh. “i hear you. we’ll get moving.”

riley reaches for him as he takes her back. jamie knows riley loves him, obviously, but there’s really no question as to who’s her favorite. nothing really compares to seeing tyler with their baby in his arms, anyways.

“c’mon, baby girl. c’mon, boys. christmas is waiting downstairs, and daddy hasn’t had breakfast yet.”

tyler slaps jamie’s knee before folding himself out of bed, gerry tumbling down after him. she’ll be a year old on valentine’s day, and maybe they’ll have to stop calling her their baby then, but jamie doubts either of them will be capable of that.

jamie pulls on the christmas pajama pants tyler set out for him, but forgoes a shirt in the 70 degree texas winter. maybe when riley’s older she can get a taste of a canadian christmas with snow and ice, but she was born in texas. dallas, and its sunny christmases, is their home.

tyler bounces riley on his hip as he starts down the stairs, the lights wrapped around the bannister twinkling and the dogs at his heels in a pack. the sound of their paws on the hardwood drum along to tyler’s off-key rendition of frosty the snowman that never fails to make riley laugh.

the kitchen smells of sugar and vanilla and coffee. tyler’s pretty much mastered jackie’s cinnamon roll recipe, and jamie inhales two while standing at the counter before they settle under the towering tree and the small mountain range of presents beneath it. the dogs find their favorite places on the couches as soon as tyler breaks the special bones out of their monogrammed stockings.

tyler takes a considering look at the haul of gifts as riley sticks a small present in her mouth. he scrunches up his nose. “did we go overboard?”

jamie shakes his head. “it’s her first christmas, tyler. santa’s allowed to go overboard.”

and it makes you happy. and she deserves it.

tyler grins and kisses the top of riley’s head. “let dada show you how to open a present, riley girl,” he coos, then looks to jamie. “santa might go overboard next year, too.”

the whole house is covered in glittering lights and garland and bells. jamie has probably never seen a christmas tree as tall as theirs, and tyler’s had a blast decorating ever since american thanksgiving. christmas music floats through the living room from the tv speakers in the background.

jamie knows how lucky he is, most of the time, but in that moment, it hits hard. this is his family, and his home, and they’re beautiful. tyler and riley look at him, their perfect noses scrunched up as they rip the wrapping paper. jamie can’t believe he gets to have all of this.

santa can go overboard every damn year.

and by next christmas, hopefully, jamie will ask the question and tyler will say yes.

now though, jamie grabs riley’s little foot, leans into the kiss tyler drops on his bare shoulder, and helps them unwrap one of the many gifts from her nana.

“love you,” tyler murmurs against his skin, eyes fond. messy long waves fall over his forehead, even as jamie brushes them back.

riley shrieks as she finally pulls the big red bow free of the paper. it’s an enormous version of the one in her hair, and it goes straight into her mouth.

“oh crap, rescue that,” jamie says in laughing surprise. “you should wear it in pictures so you’ll match.”

tyler’s indignant look is adorable, but he rescues it from riley’s slobbery fist. “you can wear it for pictures.”

they both wear it for a few, and jamie makes the one with matching tyler and riley his lockscreen. they each have another cinnamon roll because everyone knows christmas doesn’t count, and after they do all the facetime sessions with the grandparents, riley crashes for her morning nap, bow crooked in her curls.

sleep when the baby sleeps are the words of a genius, and tyler crashes almost as hard while they’re watching the grinch, tucked up against jamie’s chest on the couch.

as his chest rises and falls, jamie thinks thank you. thank you for coming into my life. thank you for riley. thank you loving me. thank you for letting me love you.

it’s a pretty fucking awesome baby’s first christmas.

#;______;#it took me forever bc my heart was hurting so much #love u merry christmas lina #also we all know jackie seguin wouldn't miss her granddaughter's first christmas let's just agree there was a blizzard in toronto #xoxo #bennsegs #snippets

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echoes-of-realities · 6 years ago

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be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) - 7/25

* * *

[From the Start] // [Fanfiction] // [ao3]

[Previous Chapter] // [Next Chapter]

Chapter Summary: Santana pretends that bringing supper to Brittany is just her hiding from the rumours and not, you know, a date or anything because that would be presumptuous; Santana finds out that Brittany is protective of the people she cares about.

Notes: More minor homophobia in this one.

Chapter 7: ten christmases ago

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By the time Santana gets halfway through the afternoon rehearsal, she realizes that everyone in the theatre knows she’s a lesbian. It’s not like it’s something she’s actively hiding, especially not after all the pain she went through of coming out when she was younger; but it’s also not something she likes to shout from the rooftops, especially because for every couple people in the company who couldn’t care less, there’s always someone who cares too much about her personal life. It makes her want to scream and it makes her want to punch something and it makes her want to breakdown and cry, but most of all it makes her want to hide in Tina’s dressing room until it all blows over. It makes her remember her sophomore year of high school, after she was outed, after her so-called friends sneered at her in the hallway, after most of her family disowned her, after her abuela threw her out; it makes her remember the time before her mom packed up their lives and moved them to New York in the hopes that the city would offer a better life for her daughter.

She makes it through rehearsal with the kids and preteens; Quinn is running through a couple scenes with the principals and the adults and teenagers in the biggest dressing room, and Santana’s thankful for it. She’s never really been fully comfortable around kids, but there’s something easy about them and the harmlessness in their questions that’s exactly what she needs right now. She can handle these kids asking her why the leaves change colour in autumn, huddling around her with their bright, wondering eyes as she googles it; she’s not quite sure if she could handle the sneering looks from people like that bitchy snowflake yesterday right now or, even worse, the gross knowing look that people like Puck sometimes give her.

So she embraces leading the rehearsal for these kids, who are too busy arguing over which Super Mario Party character they’re going to be on their Switches during the supper break to ask questions about her sexuality. For the first time in a long time, she longs for the evening when she can collapse on the couch in her too quiet apartment and just forget about the theatre and the show for a while.

She dismisses the kids for supper a couple minutes before she knows Quinn will dismiss her group of dancers, partially because the kids worked hard and deserve the few extra minutes of relaxation, but mostly because she wants to get out of the theatre before anyone can catch her eye. She heads to the stage manager’s office and quickly shrugs on her coat and scarf before hurrying out of the theatre, heading straight for her favourite sandwich shop a couple blocks away.

She plans to just hide out in the stage manager’s office for supper since Tina and Mike are both at appointments over in Brooklyn and out of the theatre until warmups, so Santana has no idea how she ends up hovering outside of Brittany’s dressing room about half an hour later, holding a bag of sandwiches and a couple drinks and trying to convince herself its not weird if she asks if Brittany wants to have supper with her, and that it’s not presumptuous to have already bought supper for her too. She shakes her head and takes two forceful steps to the door, desperately trying not to think of how much this feels a little bit like a date, and knocks on it before she can change her mind and hide out in Tina’s dressing room until she gets back.

She forcefully pushes the thought to the side when Brittany’s muffled Come in! sounds barely a moment later, and Santana sucks in a steadying breath before fumbling with the doorknob and pushing into the dressing room.

Brittany’s sitting on the floor in some insanely flexible stretch that makes Santana’s joints ache just looking at her. “Santana!” she says, and her limbs flail in a careless kind of grace as she falls out of her stretch and stands up to greet her.

“Hey,” Santana says, shaking her head a little at how Brittany seems a little bit like her bones are actually made of elastic. “I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to have supper,” she says quickly, shaking the bag in her hand.

Brittany’s lips curl into a wide smile even as her eyes soften, turning as liquid as her movements as she crosses her dressing room, stepping close enough that Santana can smell the coconut of her shampoo. Santana’s breath hitches louder than normal, and Brittany’s eyes land briefly on her parted lips as she leans further into Santana’s space to shove the door shut behind Santana, blue eyes sparkling in amusement as she steps back. “I’d love to,” she finally says with a tiny smirk that has no business making Santana’s heart race as much as it does. She takes the bags from a still slightly dazed Santana and drops them on the coffee table, rounding it to collapse languidly on the floor and patting the spot beside her.

Santana quickly unwraps her scarf from around her neck, belatedly realizing how overeager she probably looks to have not stopped at the stage manager’s office to take her winter clothing off. She resolutely ignores the heat she can feel under her cheeks as she tosses her scarf, and then her jacket, onto the chair by the door before turning to join Brittany.

“Uh, uh, uh,” Brittany stops her before she can even take a step. Santana narrows her eyes at her in question, but Brittany just grins and points at Santana’s boots. “This dressing room is a no shoe zone at all eating times,” she explains, wiggling her own socked feet to prove her point.

Santana rolls her eyes but can’t quite bite down on her smile as she kicks off her shoes. “Happy?” she teases, finally rounding the coffee table to sit down beside Brittany.

Brittany’s eyes land on her feet and she smirks. “Knowing that your socks have cacti on them? Definitely.”

“Oh shut up,” Santana grumbles, folding her legs until she’s sitting cross-legged under the coffee table. Brittany’s already dug through the bag and emerged with two sandwiches, two small containers of house-made fries, a bottle of orange juice for Brittany, and a half finished bottle of water for Santana.

“I love orange juice,” Brittany says with a tiny smile as she cracks the lid of the bottle, “How’d you know?”

Santana shrugs, picking at nothing on her jeans, embarrassed without really knowing why. “It’s what you ordered at brunch on Monday,” she admits, “So I figured it would be a safe bet.”

When she finally chances a glance up at Brittany, there’s something incredibly soft in those blue eyes and it makes Santana’s stomach flip over. “Thanks,” Brittany murmurs, before blinking and glancing back at the coffee table, the pale skin of her cheeks pinking in splotches. “So, what kind of sandwiches did you get?” Brittany quickly asks.

Santana manages to tear her eyes away from Brittany’s profile and draw the sandwiches towards her. “Uh, the house sandwich, which is just like a BLT, more or less. And then one that’s basically just a chicken club.”

“Which one’s mine?”

Santana shrugs. “Whichever one you want, I like them both.”

Brittany doesn’t look at her, but Santana can see how her smile turns sweet and soft. “Well in that case, I’ll just take whichever one’s closer to me.”

Santana smiles and grabs the other sandwich, pushing one of the containers of fries at Brittany. They eat in comfortable silence, occasionally talking about whatever comes to mind or, in Brittany’s case, throwing fries at Santana when she says something particularly snarky; it’s not that Brittany’s not snarky either, it’s just that Santana loves these fries far too much to waste them as ammo. Santana quietly asks Brittany how she’s doing about Lord Tubbington, and she shrugs and says it’s still hard but she’s less sad than she was the night she found out; Brittany quietly asks Santana about how she’s doing about being outed, and she shrugs and says it’s hard but nothing she hasn’t dealt with before.

Santana briefly worries that she’s made the conversation sad and awkward, but before she knows it they’re laughing about Emma’s minor breakdown over the broken props this morning, now that she’s finally healthy and non-contagious enough to come in for work again. Talking with Brittany reminds Santana of hanging out with Mike and Tina, except she quickly finds that she blushes a lot more around Brittany than she does around her two oldest friends; it’s something she tries not to think too much about, but it’s also something she kind of desperately wants to explore more.

“Oh yeah, I was going to ask,” Santana says, pointing a fry at Brittany, “Do you know what happened to the last production stage manager?”

“Who Sandy?”

Santana shrugs, popping the fry into her mouth and quickly chewing it. “I guess? Holly just told me that they fired the old one and needed a new one immediately when she offered me the job, but she never went into any details. And Quinn had no clue either when I asked her.”

“Yeah, he got, um,” Brittany frowns as she searches for the word, chewing thoughtfully on her sandwich. There’s a tiny smudge of sauce on the corner of her mouth and Santana inwardly groans when a pink tongue darts out to lick it away; Brittany is far too adorable for her own good, or for Santana’s own heart rate, at the very least. “Accused,” she finally decides on, “I guess, of being creepy to some of the toy soldiers.”

“Accused, you guess?”

Brittany tilts her head back and forth for a moment, her ponytail swinging lazily with the movement. “There’s rumours that Rachel falsely accused him to get him fired so a new production stage manager would be hired who could, and I quote,” Brittany says with an eye roll, her voice dripping with obviously mocking sweetness, “Finally recognize my talent for what it is and truly appreciate my brilliance in all aspects.”

“You really don’t like her,” Santana marvels with a smirk.

“No, I don’t really like raw onions but I’ll still eat them,” Brittany clarifies, “I would have shoved Rachel into the pit during rehearsals a long time ago if I could guarantee that the band wouldn’t be completely crushed under the weight of her ego.”

Santana’s laughter surprises her, and she glances up at Brittany, whose blue eyes are sparkling brightly, her lips curled up in a smirk. “Jeez, Britt,” Santana laughs, “I’ll make sure to put ‘protective gear for the pit band’ on my list of things to get done so we can get started on that plan.”

Brittany grins around a large bite of her sandwich. “Good,” she mumbles, “It’s what we all deserve.”

Santana shakes her head at Brittany’s absolutely adorable evil plans and they eat in comfortable silence for a while. “So that’s why he got fired?” she finally asks.

Brittany grins widely. “Nope!” she says easily, “it didn’t even matter if Rachel had accused him of that, he was arrested for dealing drugs outside the theatre.”

Santana laughs, her eyes wide and delighted. “No!” she gasps.

Brittany nods quickly, her blue eyes sparkling brightly. “Oh yeah, apparently he had a pretty impressive amount of pot on him.”

“Fuck,” Santana gasps around her laugh, “No wonder Holly was so desperate for a new stage manager on such short notice.”

Brittany nods. “It was actually pretty funny. I was running late that day so I ended up just going in the front doors of the theatre, and here’s this little middle aged man who wears his sweaters around his shoulders like some rich schoolboy that walked straight out of an eighties movie, in handcuffs and shoved up against a cop car, and Holly standing there, speechless for the first time I’ve ever seen, staring up at the sky like God, why me?”

Santana shakes her head, giggling at the image Brittany paints. “I wish I could have seen that.”

Brittany’s face lights up and she reaches across the coffee table for her phone. “Oh, you can,” she grins, “I took a picture.”

Santana grins and quickly leans into Brittany’s space to see over her shoulder, her hand landing close enough to Brittany’s hip that she can feel the warmth she emanates. She tries not to be too obvious about the fact that she might be memorizing Brittany’s smell as she leans her weight on her hand, looking over Brittany’s shoulder as she scrolls through her photos, but Brittany smells like coconut and honeysuckle and jasmine and something salty and probably pure sunlight and happiness or something, and Santana can’t be held responsible for how dizzy the scent makes her.

“Here!” Brittany says, tilting the phone towards Santana, and it’s exactly how Brittany described it. Santana giggles and shakes her head, glancing up at Brittany with a wide grin. She suddenly realizes how close they are, and she draws back a little bit, her laughter trailing off as she struggles to remember how to breathe.

Brittany stares at Santana for a long moment, her bottom lip pouted out a little bit and her smile a little lopsided; her blue eyes are brighter than Santana’s ever seen them, beautiful and glowing and shy. “I’m glad he got fired,” she says quietly.

Santana sucks in a deep breath, her heart beating fast and heavy until it feels like it’s pounding against her sternum and her ribs are echoing its beat. “Me too,” she whispers.

Santana finds that she kind of hates Finn for opening his dumb mouth and telling everyone what he overhead; Brittany explained to her earlier what Puck said, and every time she sees Finn lumbering around backstage she has the urge to go over and sock him in the jaw, even if she would have to literally scale his dumb skyscraper body to reach it. Even if he was just shocked about what he overheard and didn’t think before opening his mouth, he still had no right to tell everyone about her sexuality, and Santana pointedly avoids him and Puck the entire show. Quinn doesn’t question her when she redirects Finn and Puck and the other people from props to her and Zizes, just offers her a tiny, sympathetic smile.

Brittany’s on the phone when she pops her head in after the show, but she says a quick “One second, mom,” before pressing the phone to her shoulder. “Hey,” she says brightly. “Are you here for notes?”

Mercedes is sprawled on the couch, flipping her car keys back and forth over her fingers, idly scrolling through her phone; she glances up and waves a quick greeting to Santana, her keys jangling softly.

Santana returns the wave before smiling at Brittany, nodding at the phone in her hand. “You look busy, I’ll just do them tomorrow.”

“It’s fine,” Brittany says quickly, “I can call her back. It’s still early there.”

Santana shakes her head softly. “It’s okay, Britt, I don’t have many notes for you, like usual,” she says easily, and Brittany’s eyes dart down as a faint blush creeps over her cheeks, “so it won’t take long anyways. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” Brittany says, and her soft smile makes Santana’s stomach flip over. It’s still flipping over even as she waves her farewell to Brittany and heads down the hall for Tina’s room.

The door’s cracked open, so she doesn’t bother knocking as she slips inside. Tina’s at the vanity, carefully wiping her makeup off, and she meets Santana’s eyes in the mirror as soon as Santana appears in the doorway. Santana shuts the door behind her and leans back on it with a deep sigh that she feels all the way down to the very bottom of her soul.

“Hey,” Tina says, turning around to lean back against the vanity, her eyes tight with concern. “How are you doing?”

Santana shakes her head, pushing herself off the door with some difficulty; now that she’s in the safe haven of Tina’s dressing room, she can feel the entirety of the day weighing heavily on her limbs for the first time all day. “It’s been a long day,” she mutters, collapsing face first into Tina’s couch.

Tina makes a sound of acknowledgement. Santana listens to her putter around the dressing room for a couple minutes, paying little mind to her best friend until the couch dips by her hip. Tina’s hand is warm where she presses it comfortingly over her shoulder, and Santana manages to turn her head to the side to catch Tina’s eye. “This day has mostly sucked,” she grumbles.

“Mostly?”

Santana shrugs with some difficulty considering one arm is sinking between the back of the couch and the cushions and the other is squished against between her own body and Tina’s butt. “Supper with Britt was good,” she mumbles.

Tina smirks above her but doesn’t say anything, instead she just reveals Santana’s favourite chocolate bar. Santana grins and struggles to pull herself upright, awkwardly rolling over and drawing her legs up to her and trying not to kick Tina in the back until she finally manages to sit. “You’re a lifesaver,” Santana breathes.

Tina grins and passes her the chocolate. “Someone’s gotta keep you functioning properly.”

Santana nods, offering Tina a row of chocolate as soon as she’s shoved some in her own mouth. “Thanks,” she mumbles.

Tina shrugs. “It’s the least I could do, especially after the day you’ve had.” Santana shakes her head and glares blankly into the space just beyond Tina’s head.

“It’s so fucking dumb,” Santana snarls suddenly, “I mean this shouldn’t matter anymore.”

Tina sighs and wraps an arm around Santana; Santana struggles against her for a moment, wanting to be strong and brave and all the things she doesn’t feel half the time, until Tina tucks her head against Santana’s and whispers, “I know.”

Santana deflates, dropping her hands to her lap and fiddling with the chocolate bar wrapper, letting Tina bear Santana’s weight on her own shoulders for a while. “But it does,” she rasps. Tina holds Santana upright until she’s steady enough to do it herself, and Santana straightens up with a sigh, furiously scrubbing at her eyes until Tina’s hands gently stop her.

She takes the chocolate bar from Santana and drops it on the table, quickly standing and crossing the room for her makeup bag before returning. She tugs on Santana’s legs until they’re both sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the couch, their knees knocking slightly as they shift to get more comfortable, like how they used to what feels like ages ago. Santana just focuses on breathing while Tina wipes away smeared mascara and tears with a disposable makeup cloth. She lets her eyes flutter closed while Tina redoes her makeup, a sigh fluttering past her lips. “It just— It reminds me of the first time, you know?” Santana finally says. Tina makes a small sound of acknowledgement, tilting Santana’s chin into the light to admire her work, carefully touching the eyeshadow up until she’s satisfied with her work. “It just brings me back again to high school again,” she sighs.

Tina pauses in her ministrations, and when Santana blinks her eyes open in question, she finds dark eyes flaring with bright, protective anger. Santana offers her a tiny smile and waits until the anger dies before letting Tina continue to fix her makeup, touching a mascara brush carefully to dark eyelashes until all evidence of Santana’s tears are erased.

“Thanks,” she mumbles. “Course,” Tina says easily, the skin under her eyes still tight.

Santana sighs a little, sensing the question on her best friend’s tongue. “Go ahead, ask it.”

“Have you talked to her at all?” Tina asks hesitantly. “Your abuela, I mean.”

Santana breathes deeply for long moments before focusing back on Tina, preparing to face the world again. “Not since my mom suggested us going back to Ohio for that first Christmas,” she admits quietly. Her eyes drift to the calendar hanging on Tina’s wall. “It’s been ten years since I was told I wasn’t welcome in her house or her life anymore,” she whispers.

Tina sighs and pulls Santana into an almost too tight hug, and Santana blinks rapidly, trying not to ruin Tina’s work on her makeup. “Do you want company tonight?” Tina finally mumbles.

Santana shrugs and nuzzles her chin further into Tina’s shoulder for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. A ride home would be nice though.”

Tina snorts. “I know you’re just friends with me for my car,” she teases.

“You’ve got me,” Santana mutters, and they both pretend that the fact that they’re currently clinging to each other doesn’t completely render this conversation moot, “I’ve kept you around for, like, eight years just on the off chance you would eventually get a car, despite not having one for about six and a half of those years.”

“Sounds devious enough for you,” Tina agrees idly.

Santana laughs, pulling back and dabbing carefully at the skin under her eyes again. “I gotta grab my stuff from the stage manager’s office first.”

Tina nods, finally letting Santana completely out of her embrace as Santana goes to stand. “I’ll meet you at the elevators to the parkade?” she suggests.

Santana agrees, grabbing her chocolate bar off of the coffee table before waving at Tina as she leaves her dressing room and heads back through the theatre. All the other principals have already left, their doors shut tight and their lights off; Mike had to head back to the apartment he shared with Tina as soon as the show ended to meet up with his mom for something, but he managed to catch Santana on his way out and tug her into a shadowy corner to give her a big hug.

Santana slowly eats the rest of her chocolate bar on her way, savouring the sweetness after such a long day. She’s passing through the hallway of the corps dancers’ dressing rooms and barely notices that there’s still a door cracked open and a light on until she’s practically walking right past it. There’s voices chorusing inside and Santana pauses right outside the door, frowning. It’s the snow corps dressing room, and usually they’re one of the first groups to clear out after the show.

“Hey! Shut up, all of you.”

Santana freezes for a split second, every nerve ending in her body locking up before feeling like they’re suddenly to vibrating. She knows that voice voice; it’s sharper and icier than Santana’s every heard it, but that cadence and deadpan unmistakably belongs to one Brittany S. Pierce.

There’s a voice of protest, low and bitchy and Santana would bet money on it being that snowflake bitch from yesterday. “This isn’t your place, Sugar Plump,” she sneers, “Fuck off.”

“No, it’s not my corps,” Brittany agrees coolly, “But it is yours, and this production expects better of it’s dancers.”

“Who cares if there’s rumours going around about that new bitch,” the snowflake spits, “It’s not like I started them. Besides, she deserves it for being a lesbian.”

Santana slinks even closer to the door, and the overwhelming smell of sweat and too much body spray tickles her nose. She breathes out shakily through her mouth and hopes she doesn’t start sneezing.

“You may not have started them, but I’m ending them,” Brittany continues icily. “All of them, right now. It’s bullying and unprofessional and I won’t accept it. This is an arts theatre and you’re all being homophobic? Who do you think sews all of your costumes? You’re all okay with having your stereotypically gay best friend but as soon as it’s a woman you all get gross about it?”

Santana can hear an uncomfortable shuffling of fabric and the heavy tense silence as she presses herself completely against the wall, her heart pounding all the way down to her fingertips.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t want to hear anything else about this or I’ll go straight to Sylvester, understand?” Brittany waits for their mumbled assent. “I said, understand?” There’s a louder confirmation this time and Brittany’s voice grows even stronger, a thread of steel lining it. “Good,” she says briskly, “Because if you have a problem with Santana being gay then you have a problem with me being bi, and that’s hilarious to me considering how willing you all are to suck up to me in the hopes that I’ll put in a good word for you. Besides,” Brittany adds flippantly, her voice growing clearer, “I know a whole lineup of non-homophobic dancers who are just dying to have a spot in this production. It won’t be hard to replace you.”

Santana stares blankly at the wall in front of her, her eyes wide and her heart pounding sharply. She feels like she wasn’t supposed to hear this conversation, Brittany gave absolutely no indication she was going to put a stop to the rumours earlier, but she’s so glad that she did stumble upon it; she can’t even begin to comprehend how light and thankful and, weirdly enough, protected she feels after overhearing that. Footsteps sound in the room and Santana’s body suddenly unfreezes. She doesn’t want Brittany to know she just overheard her standing up for her; not yet, anyways, she needs time to process it, so she flees as silently as she can down the hallway, ducking around the corner before half-jogging, half-speed-walking the rest of the way to the stage manager’s office.

She quickly unlocks the door and slips inside, leaning back against the closed door and catching her breath and trying to process the last couple minutes before she finds herself laughing, partially a product of the adrenaline coursing through her veins, and partially a product of how giddy she feels at Brittany being so amazing.

Sure, it’s been a mostly long and uncomfortable day, but she can’t help the butterflies fluttering in her stomach as her mind drifts back to the fierce protectiveness in Brittany’s voice. She can’t really help the fact that she’s smiling like a complete goof the entire walk back through the theatre and to the parkade elevators.

She thinks back to brunch, when Tina caught her eye across the table with that knowing glint in her eyes, and she knows for sure what she suspected then: She’s definitely screwed, but she thinks she doesn’t care that all that much if it involves sparkling blue eyes and that glowing smile.

#brittana #brittany pierce #santana lopez #glee #brittana fanfiction #glee fanfiction #tina cohen chang #santina #my writing #story: be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe)

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thebrotherswholoved · 6 years ago

Text

dreaming a festive little dream

summary: You always look back on the bad times when you're standing in front of everything you've always wanted. Perhaps Santa brought him that astronomy book he wanted as a kid, or maybe his gift already arrived and he'll be reminded of how lucky he truly is.

content: dadchesters, parent!wincest, family bonding, only fluff/a bit of saddening nostalgia I guess, kiddos causing trouble, domestic bants

read on Ao3

Sam would be lying if he said he'd always adored Christmas.

For the longest time, it was the complete opposite. He abhorred the holiday and those stupid ornaments, tacky trees, and annoying carolers that would come to the motel door every year without fail, even though they never spent any two Christmases in the same place. Class parties were upsetting and made seven-year-old Sam run to the bathroom with tears rolling down his pudgy little cheeks at the sight of all the parents surprising their children at school. The teachers would forget about him and continue pouring green and red Kool Aid into cheap Dixie cups while he plucked at the strings of his short-sleeve, too-thin-for-winter shirt in a dingy restroom to make the tears stop. In fact, the only reason he'd return to class at all is because those candy apples, mince pies, and dollar store chocolates would make up the only meal he'd had in two days. Dean would try to feed him at the room after school but he'd say that he had lunch there so his older brother would feed himself at last in lieu of sacrificing yet another meal for his chubby little sibling.

Sam would ignore the rumbling in his stomach when he woke up on Christmas Day to find stolen presents under the dining table and an air freshener tree taped to the side before rushing to hug and kiss Dean's eleven-year-old cheeks and watching as he tried to hide his frost-nipped fingers from view, which happened without a doubt the night prior when he stole gifts from the neighbors. He wasn't as oblivious as Dean had hoped, after all.

John would call them for four and a half minutes tops and tell them to clean the guns and pack their things to leave in a few hours when he'd return, but not after a trip to a dive bar decked out with tinsel and Nat King Cole playing on the radio, which would be the only thing to remind him that he missed another Christmas with his sons—not that he cared. The blood of some ghoul or monster would stain his hands when he handed over a twenty dollar bill to pay off his tab, which is twice as much money that he gave to his boys for a few days. He beat the monster and to him, that's all that mattered.

Twenty-eight-year-old Sam Winchester wakes up with a start from his nightmare and shudders at the lingering feeling of cold numbness in his nose from the blizzard his mind had flung him into for the night. He sits up and expects the familiar chilly air and lack of insulation in another podunk motel room and to feel the abrasiveness of scratchy ninety-nine cent sheets on a Dateline oh-god-I-hope-that's-paint mattress, but finds nothing of the sort. Thirty dollar flannel sheets layer over him and shield him from the thermostat-regulated seventy-six degree room, which is painted a nice grey instead of the peeling wallpaper he saw in his dream.

The clock on his bedside table reads just before ten o'clock, a time which is verified by the gentle sweeping of sunshine bleeding into the room through the curtains. The room is splashed a golden yellow by the rays of light and this bright intrusion prompts him to stand up onto his feet and begin walking through his house. His dream created a film inside his mind and he feels foreign in this beautiful home—no empty beer bottles or pizza boxes, no flickering lights or broken taps, no neighbors going at it like animals in heat or pipes squeaking under the pressure of water coursing through their copper interiors. The chair rail is painted white and matches the molding strips; there are pictures framed on the walls of children—their children—taken professionally for birthdays and Christmases and anniversaries; and there’s a clanging sound coming from what’s presumably the kitchen given the open layout, followed by a gruff voice laughing and shushing the source of the sound.

Sam looks down at what he’s wearing and it all starts coming back to him: his red and white striped pyjamas were pointed out to him as a joke by Dean in a Pottery Barn catalogue but were bought anyway, the smell of pine needles and spice are coming from the tree in the corner of the living room, and the noises are indeed resonating from the kitchen. Something is dropped onto the floor with a bang which makes him jump, and he concludes that it’s not just him who’s startled by the sound of the shrill screech and gruff ejaculation that follows.

“Son of a—a gun!” Dean places a hand on his chest and catches his breath after the scare. He then looks at his and Sam’s children with an incredulous glare. “Which of you little monsters just took twenty years off my life?”

Sam leans against the entryway wall and watches as their oldest, Caden, smiles with maniacal eyes and raises his hand, making his Dad roll his eyes.

“Of course!” He swings the four-year-old into his arms as they both laugh, Caden letting out helpless giggles as Dean tickles him. “You are a little rascal.”

His eyes then shift to his and Dean’s youngest child, Paisley, who shrieks and claps her hands when she sees him, climbing out of her chair and waddling with bowed little legs over to him. She calls for “Daddy” and he meets her in the middle of the room where he scoops her up in his arms and sees her bright green eyes light up with glee when he pokes her chubby middle. Paisley’s tiny hands grasp at Sam’s hair which prompts him to push it back behind his ears and kiss his daughter’s tiny freckled nose. Whenever he has the chance to get a good look at Caden’s and Paisley’s features, it hits him for the umpteenth time how much they resemble their fathers.

Dean frowns when he sees his husband with their daughter, but not for the reason one may think. Caden pats his Dad’s cheeks with hands coated in powdered sugar and hoists himself onto his back to piggyback ride him and he pouts.

“You’re supposed to be asleep, Sasquatch.”

Sam hums when Paisley starts to bite at her little chewy bracelet they have her wear for oral stimulation, per suggestion of her pediatrician. “You guys aren’t exactly quiet, are you?”

Caden shakes his head and lets wavy hazelnut hair fall into his eyes. “Dada’s letting us cook.”

“We decided to make you breakfast before opening what Santa brought last night,” Dean explains and rubs his neck when their son drops down off his back.

He claims it’s because he has “cervical spine issues” that just decided to surface at age thirty-two but he gets just as flustered and nervous around Sam as he did as a teen and as a young adult when they first started “dating.” Admitting that to his husband, however, would be like admitting to murder—murder of his masculinity, that is, which is already fragile since the season of PETA adverts began. Sam still curls the longer pieces of his hair around his fingers whenever he finds himself more vulnerable than usual to Dean’s cuteness and susceptible to seduction after the kids are in bed. Nothing’s changed since their first date—with the exception of a house, marriage certificate, and two kids, of course.

“Aw,” Sam puts Paisley down on the floor and she runs as fast as her stubby, bowed legs will carry her to whatever her brother is doing in front of the TV. “I am loved after all.”

Dean lets out a huff and snakes his arms around his husband’s waist. “We have suspiciously fluffy pancakes, some extra crispy toast, scrambled eggs with a bit too much milk, and some actually decent hot cocoa.”

“I’ll take whatever’s edible, “ he knocks their foreheads together, “if you give me a kiss.”

“Ugh, I guess I can comply,” Dean rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss the love of his life, sleepy eyes fluttering shut in the safety of each other’s arms and in the security of the life they’ve built together.

Sam pulls back with some blue frosting on his nose and gives his brother a questioning eyebrow raise. He exhales with a soft laugh in reply. “We also baked cookies. Blue trees and green snowflakes like Pais wanted.”

“You’re such a great dad, De,” he rubs the other man’s shoulders with a grin. “I love you.”

“I know. You got lucky, Sammy,” Dean kisses him again. When they part, he whispers against his lips and runs his pointer finger over his chin. “Now the kids might actually kill us if we don’t let them open their presents, so can you go distract them while I get breakfast ready?”

Sam can’t help but laugh at his comment yet nods nonetheless. “I’ll keep you safe from our four and one year old children, I promise.”

“You’d better!” He calls over his shoulder as he walks back into the kitchen to clean up the mess and plate the viable food. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas, Jerk,” Sam shouts, walking to the family room to watch the Scooby Doo Christmas special with a kid under each arm, all four of them wearing those hideous matching pyjamas.

After all, he’s got the best gift ever already. That said, he still wants those matching flasks they saw at the store to take to the more boring little league games. Oh shit, he’s not supposed to mention that.

Merry Christmas from the Winchester family—the most dysfunctional clan on earth.

#wincest #sam x dean #sam/dean #fanfic #parent!wincest #domestic boys #family matters #otp: and they were soulmates #merry christmas #happy holidays #i hope you like your gift #im not a lazy oaf see #my fanfiction #read on ao3

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jacekhouris · 6 years ago

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tldr; jace and roslan celebrate their first christmas together and it results in some big steps. this is really long but it’s also REALLY cute so read if you feel so inclined!

disclaimer: we’re idiots and lost the first few replies. basically, jace has a tiny tree that he bought for his place, and he put five little presents under it for roslan. roslan showed up and brought food and brought a HUGE present and asked about the sweaters. that’s where our story begins. lesson learned y’all.

jace had almost forgotten. the secret santa sweaters. "hold on," he said, rushing to his room and grabbing the pile of fabric. he came back out, sweaters in hand. "this one's for you," he said, handing roslan the one with his name stitched on the front. he set aside his own, and gave roslan the one for hopscotch as well. beckoning almond to come over to him, he slipped the sweater on the dog (with a fair amount of resistance, but almond was a chihuahua, so was there ever any doubt jace would win?). "perfect." he slid his own sweater over his head. "sawyer made me these for the secret santa exchange. don't you love them?"

roslan couldn't stop smiling. like, it was ridiculous that he couldn't. returning from the kitchen, he watched jace struggle for a few seconds before crouching down to dress hopscotch similarly, just with a little less resistance, and then slipped off his own sweater to exchange for jace's. "i love them." he couldn't help but kiss jace again, patting him affectionately over the name stitched on his front. "we need a picture later so we can send him a thank you card." he tugged jace over to the couch and simultaneously grabbed the paper bag, which he'd stuffed a few DVDs into at the last second. "i wasn't sure which one of these you had," (knowing jace, probably all of them), "but i brought the grinch, nightmare before christmas, and elf, so take your pick."

"i feel like i'm in harry potter," jace commented, before kissing roslan. it was one of those kisses where neither of them could stop smiling, so the kiss wasn't the best in and of itself, but the pure joy between the two made up for it. he picked almond up off of the floor and sat down on the couch next to roslan, setting almond down next to him. jace immediately got comfortable, his head resting on roslan's bicep and his feet up on the couch. "awe, we can take a picture in front of the small tree and send it to sawyer and post it all over the internet so everyone can see how cute our sweaters are and also how cute we are." he considered roslan's movie options, before answering with a confident "elf."

"as if we need sweaters to be that cute," roslan said mildly, kissing jace's temple. the next moment presented him with a dilemma: disturb jace's comfortable position, or end up not watching the movie at all because he felt too bad about moving his boyfriend's head? "babe, i still have to start the movie," roslan chuckled, moving as quickly as he could. once the movie was properly started and the volume was good, he was back at jace's side. "i don't think i've seen this before." he hid a grin into jace's hair. "is this the one with the kid whose parents, like, desert him on christmas?"

roslan making jace move ended up not mattering anyways, because as soon as he said he hadn't seen it before, jace bounced up. "what?!" he said, taken completely aback. "no. this is the one about the guy who's a human who gets adopted by elves but then goes to find his real family--i cannot BELIEVE you've never seen this before." his mouth gaped open, and after his slight tangent he settled back into position. "so, what did you bring to eat? i'm starving... do you want to eat, and then we can open presents while the movie is still playing?" jace was very excited and nervous to give roslan his presents, so he wanted to get it done sooner rather than later.

roslan stifled an honest to god giggle at jace's reaction, tugging his habitually dramatic boyfriend back within reach soon enough. "pasta. and cake. but the cake can be saved for presents-opening. but theoretically, we could do also do all three at once, because i wanted you to open your present as soon as i bought it." it probably would have been easier for him to untangle himself from jace and then get everything from the bag, but since the one con of leaving jace outweighed any other pros, roslan managed to do all of that without leaving his place on the couch. "i grabbed this from the diner, it should still be--" yes, it was still hot, and there was also a flash of green that made roslan laugh. "hey, look." grinning an absolutely shit-eating grin, he lifted the pair of basil leaves and waved them lightly over jace's face. "c'mere, you have to kiss me, that's the rule.

jace smiled. "i'm very, very comfortable right now, so i think you should kiss me and not the other way around." he closed his eyes and puckered his lips, awaiting a kiss from roslan. when it became clear that he actually had to go in for it, he feigned annoyance, and leaned in to kiss roslan. he kissed him slowly, and softly, smelling the faintest scent of the basil leaves over his head. it occurred to him in that moment that, unlike on their date, he could kiss roslan for as long as he wanted and no one would be bothered. it was probably about a minute before he pulled away, smiling at his boyfriend before grabbing the pasta. "we'll eat the pasta, then open presents, then do cake. sound good? and did you grab forks from the diner, or do you need me to get some from the kitchen?"

"sounds good to me," roslan agreed happily, because he'd be a liar if he said he wasn't thinking that his best present was technically already right there. "no, i got everything, don't worry." he sectioned off two plates and then handed one over to jace. the smell of food had the dogs sniffing in interest, which complicated the act of eating and trying to cuddle at the same time, but the chaos honestly felt so...right. and roslan felt so, so happy. "mmh. so his dad's not on the nice list? that's awkward." he followed along with the movie, loving how excited jace was about it, about everything. Barely an hour in, and this was already one of the best Christmases he'd ever had.

jace scarfed down the pasta before almond could even try to get any, but left the dog one piece that he fed to him at the last second before setting the empty plate aside. "that was amazing... i haven't been to the diner in ages. i guess i have a reason to stop by now," he said, winking at roslan. "i know, it's so awkward. this whole movie is awkward but i love it." he got up, taking his and roslan's empty plates to the kitchen to dispose of them, before excitedly asking "is it time for presents?" and hurrying over to the tree.

jace was also awkward and roslan loved him, so their tastes weren’t too far off. “yes. and i feel like i’ve been outnumbered here, so i want you to open your last.” roslan joined him, sitting cross legged on the floor. he felt nervous, more nervous than he’d ever been for a present swap. but this also felt more important than that. jace’s opinion meant a lot to him.

"how about you open four of them, then i open mine, then you open the last one?" jace said, handing him the first box. inside of it was a guitar pick, one that had the date they met printed on one side and a picture of the two of them on the other. once roslan had opened it, he provided some context. "i have a friend in new york who does custom guitar picks. that's the pick i used the night you came and saw me play and we told each other how we felt, but now it has different stuff on it."

roslan lifted the pick from the box carefully, as if he was afraid he might accidentally break it or lose it right then. jace’s explanation made it infinitely more priceless. roslan thumbed over the smooth finish, smiling at the picture and the memories of that night it brought, and turned it over. it took him a moment to understand the numbers, and when he did, he gave a little, “oh.” his smile turned soft, and he looked back up at jace. “i love it.” and to hide the sign that jace had just nudged him one step closer to crying before the end of the night, he teased, “does this come with a guitar lesson from you, by any chance?”

"it can, if you want. i'm not the best teacher, though," jace responded, handing him a second box. inside of this one was a folded up sheet of paper, one that had been torn out of a moleskine notebook. it had lyrics hastily scribbled on it--the lyrics to sweet creature. "that is the first place i ever wrote the lyrics to that song." these gifts were small, but sentimental, just like jace liked them. he hoped roslan liked them just as much.

hearing the song had been one thing. seeing the words like this, raw in their sincerity, was like hearing the song for the first time again—and now if for some reason he ever forgot, he would have this as a reminder. “i... thank you.” he smiled gratefully at jace, refolded the paper gently as setting it back inside the box with the pick. he was planning to keep those for life.

“you’re welcome. but if you keep thanking me, this is going to take a really long time. here, open these two together,” he said, handing him boxes three and four. in one was a collar for hopscotch and in the other was a matching bracelet for roslan. “i also got the same ones for almond and i.” satisfied with his gift giving, saving the best one for last, he looked at roslan expectantly, waiting for his gift.

roslan sniffed. “and whose fault is that?” he tried to feign an angry grumble, but by the time the collar was on hopscotch and he snapped the bracelet onto his own wrist, he was smiling again. “okay, okay. my turn?” with the threat of tears staved off for now, he tugged out his present from the tree. it was heavy—but that was expected of the guitar case and the custom electric guitar inside. it was a deep red, the quiet but striking shade that reminded roslan of jace, with jace’s initials carved between the tuners. along the back of the neck were smaller, more subtle carvings — the five notes that signified a sung ‘love of my life.’ whenever jace held the guitar, his palm would press along those notes. “this is for the future. i’ll be with you for as long as you’ll have me, but one day you’re gonna be up on a stage and they probably won’t let me on with you.” he chuckled slightly. “so this is my way of being with you up there. and there’s one more thing.” inside the large box was also a CD case, stripped of a proper cover and instead labeled with the words ‘things i didn’t know how to tell you.’ “these songs are about all the things i’ve ever wanted to say to you but didn’t know how. i’m still working on getting better at that, but i don’t ever want you to doubt how i feel about you.”

jace ran his hands over the guitar, not even trying to ward of the tears that were pooling in his eyes. “ros, this is,” too much. no. not too much. “perfect. this is the best present anyone has ever gotten me.” he started strumming the chords to sweet creature, loving how it sounded even unplugged. “this is really amazing. and that’s one of my favorite songs,” he said, referring to the notes on the neck of the guitar. was this roslan’s way of telling jace he loved him? he’d take it if it was. he wiped his eyes, and set the guitar aside, and grabbed the last box. it was tiny, and inside of it was a key. “so. i’ve been thinking about this for a while… you hate your roommate. you deserve to live somewhere that doesn’t make you miserable. i have a spare room, and you’re here pretty much all the time—why not make it official?”

oh, no. roslan could see the tears gathering in jace’s eyes, and the sight alone was almost enough to tip roslan over the edge too, out of a sheer happiness that /jace/ was happy. but roslan had forgotten that there was still one gift left, and when he was presented with the box, the key, and then jace’s offer— “what?” the key was so small for everything that it symbolized. him and jace, living together. no more driving back and forth. no more leaving in the mornings. jace had felt like a home to him for a while now, but to be able to properly say “i’m home” every time he walked through that door? “yes. jace, i—“ his throat tightened, and he felt a tear finally spill. “yes,” he repeated, more confidently, but the cost was another tear escaping and oh god, he really was crying. “i— fuck, look what you made me do.” laughing shakily, roslan wiped the tears away with the sweater sleeve before shifting on his knees to reach jace’s lips, trying desperately to pour all the love he felt into one kiss.

jace laughed a bit, reaching up and wiping away his own tears. it was a bit pointless. the tears would keep coming. they were currently the epitome of a hallmark christmas movie—wearing matching sweaters, kissing in front of the christmas tree. it took all of the willpower in jace’s body not to blurt out an “i love you.” instead he picked up the guitar, and began to play the intro to love of my life. it was a good song to convey his emotions to roslan. he was still crying, a little, and as he played, he spoke. “you can move in whenever you want.”

how about now, roslan wanted to say, except they were both still crying, and the familiar notes to love of my life just made him feel even weaker in the legs. “tomorrow,” he promised, his voice a little hoarse from the effort of withholding tears. “there’s something i still have to take care of, but i want to come home as soon as possible...and throw out the extra toothbrush in my apartment.” a small laugh bubbled out of him. he’d never felt surer about his feelings for jace; they only grew stronger as he watched jace play. “hey. no more crying?” smiling a little, roslan cupped jace’s cheek gently and thumbed away a stray tear there. “c’mere. i got chocolate cake.”

“tomorrow,” jace echoed. “but spend the night tonight.” he meant for it to come out as a question, but it ended up being a statement. almost an order, but of course if roslan didn’t want to, jace wouldn’t force it. he smiled, still plucking out the notes on the guitar. “i make no promises, but i’ll try to stop,” he said, pressing a kiss into the palm resting on his cheek. he set the guitar down, and sidled up to roslan on the couch, not getting quite as comfortable as before just in case roslan needed to make any necessary adjustments.

“‘course i will. better enjoy my last night sleeping with you before i move into your spare room,” he teased. roslan leaned back against the arm of the couch, letting jace lean on top of him. their legs ended up tangled together, but jace was laying comfortably against his chest and roslan loved holding him so closely. the movie played on; it was admittedly hard to focus on anything other than jace. roslan’s fingers stroked idly through dark tresses. “i’m really glad i met you,” he said quietly. “i’m glad i was standing there that night. and i’m glad you opened the door the next morning.” roslan bit his lip, his fingers lingering over jace’s cheekbone. “you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

"you may be moving your stuff into the spare room," jace commented, "but i'll be damned if you sleep one night in there and not in my bed with me." he lifted his head and pressed a kiss to roslan's jaw. the movie continued, and jace could have fallen asleep while roslan played with his hair had the other not begun to speak. "you're the best thing that's happened to me, too," he said quitely. "you make me happier than anything. i've never felt this way about anyone before..." his eyes began to drift shut, and he curled himself into roslan. "i think i l..." he began to say, falling asleep in the middle of the word "love." when he woke up, jace wouldn't even remember saying that.

jace's words sent warmth unfurling in roslan's chest, and he held jace just a little bit tighter. he could tell the moment jace drifted off against him, the other man's breathing evening out in warm puffs over roslan's collarbone. roslan's hand continued carding gently through his hair until jace was well and truly asleep, and he kissed the top of his head one more time and whispered, "i love you too." hopscotch and almond had curled up together in their usual positions at the foot of the couch. the food sat mostly-finished on the table. on the TV, buddy had seemingly reconciled with his father. roslan made a silent note to rewatch it when he could be more focused, but for now he reached for the remote, flicked the TV off, and let the room settle into silence. he closed his eyes too, his arms secure around jace, and moments later he was asleep with the knowledge that he'd be waking up right at home.

#✧･ﾟ: * you're the one habit i just can't kick *:･ﾟ✧ ↪ roslan / jace

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ofasteroids · 6 years ago

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CHRISTIAN’S TWENTY FIVE GIFTS OF CHRISTMAS FOR LOTTIE !!

GIFT TWENTY SIX OF TWENTY FIVE: xavier kennedy's christmas carol.

'twas the night before christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse... the stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that st. nicholas soon would be there. xavier was nestled, snug in his bed, but visions of sugar plums did not dance in his head. instead, mirages of ghosts haunted his head, a christmas haunting... but not by the dead.

the clock struck twelve, and soon the dreamland before him transformed to the past—when the little boy prince was always picked last... and now he’s haunted by the ghost of christmas past.

little xavier paraded into the room, his sister eliza and brother george soon followed suit. it was christmas day, 2003, and the kids all could not wait to see what gifts santa claus had brought for them. first thing was first, they had to check their stockings, hung by the fireplace, a warm breeze of heat blowing from the fire ablaze.

the kennedys had always had a rule: everyone had to wait their turn... so poor little xavier watched as his sister began to pull wonders from her stocking. a twinge of jealousy built up inside of him, but xavier contained it... barely. it seemed every year he was thought of last. he watched in envy as the girl pulled out troves of candy canes and chocolates and gingerbread galore. next, his brother ravaged through his stocking, waiting in agonizing anticipation... finally, it was his turn to pull out treasures from the red and white sock, decorated with green glitter.

the feeling of joy filled the boy as he removed hershey kisses, peppermint flavored candy canes, shiny bright red twizzlers, bags of m&ms—the six year old was practically in candyland... but as he pulled more and more, his tiny fingers wrapped around something coarse and rough. confusion was written across his face as he revealed a lump of coal from the stocking. surely, he hadn’t been that bad. while he had his moments, xavier had striven to be on his best behavior for the fear of this exact moment. the young prince’s head turned to face his mother.

“ mãe... w-was i really that bad?? ” he questioned, tears swelling his young eyes. a puzzled look came upon her face—though xavier didn’t know it then, he’d later understood it that she hadn’t placed the coal in the stocking.

“ no, meue bebê, you weren’t... it must’ve been a mistake, ” his mother whispered to him as her fingers combed through her son’s hair. xavier’s tears soaked her pajamas as he continued to ask questions about santa. it hurt the young woman to see her child in such pain over something so silly, so minuscule. she almost considered telling him the truth right then and there—that it was all just a big lie, a hoax to spread christmas cheer. she decided against it, believing it might just bring more tears, not just for xavier, but for little ellie and george too.

“ it’s okay, xavier !! you can have some of my candy, bubba !! ” eliza reassured him, patting him on the back. george chimed in too, promising him some of his candy too. xavier sniffled as they all embraced him, and soon enough, the pain that came along with the lump of call subsided.

laughter erupted from the american king’s belly. little did xavier know who the real culprit was. the moment his mother heard the voluminous laughter filling the room, she stood up. xavier didn’t know why, but his parents were soon leaving the room, leaving the children to listen in as sounds of shouting made their way into the living room. xavier didn’t understand why they had to fight all the time. it broke his tiny little heart a little more each time... especially on christmas day.

another hour gone, the american prince was still fast asleep. but little did he know he was in for a peek... into the christmas of the present, one that had yet to be spent... filled with love and cheer, enough to last the years.

xavier collapsed onto his husband—yes, his husband. still panting from just moments before, he traced circles into albie’s arm while he left kisses along the english prince’s shoulders. there was a happiness he’d never known on christmas before that filled his whole body, and it was all thanks to albie. xavier swore he’d never been happy before he finally got to be with the love of his life, and it was true... he’d never truly experienced a genuine happiness. and now, he owed it all to albie.

“ well, i think that was just about the best christmas gift you could’ve given to me, ” xavier whispered with a giggle, head resting on the boy’s chest. he presses a kiss to albie’s lips before he sits up in their bed, lined with red satin sheets, just for the holidays. his eyes glazed over the slightly older male, hearts practically radiating from his deep mocha hues. “ i’ll be right back, ” xavier hummed before he tiptoed out of their bedroom.

he snuck off to their living room, to steal one of his presents for albie, along with a pair of reindeer ears and a santa hat. xavier paraded back into the room before he set the gift down on the bed. he placed the reindeer ears on albie before throwing on the santa hat.

“ i just wanted to tell you... i can’t thank you enough for how great you’ve made me feel this past year, albert arthur windsor. and i know you doubt me sometimes, but i love you more than i’ve loved anyone or anything, ” xavier started. “ before i met you, there was a void inside of me... b-but you make me feel great about myself, like i deserve to be here, like i have a meaning. i never had that before. i was in a really dark place, a-and i never told you this before, but i almost, well... ended it a few times, but something told me to wait it out each time.. and i’m so glad i did ‘cause i wouldn’t have you if i did that.

“ you’ve made this year so memorable, alb. there’s so many good memories, and i know there’s millions more to come with you, and i just want to spend every single second with you... i want to just stay awake forever so i can watch over you while you sleep so no one touches a hair on your pretty little head. i want to just to smother you in kisses all the time.. but that’s not always possible, so i guess i have to settle on just telling you how i feel.. that’s not as a good as what i’d like, though. a-anyway, i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. you’re my happy ending, and you’re my favorite brit... you’re my favorite american. my favorite person in the world, ” xavier gushed, a pink heart overcoming his cheeks.

“ so, i want to give you, your first present... your american citizenship and our first picture together in a frame, ” he spoke, opening the box to reveal two golden frames.

“ merry christmas, albie windsor... merry christmas, ” xavier whispers, a smile forming on his lips/

dawn approaches as the third bell chimes, and a dream to come that extends beyond the hands of time. with children dancing and christmas dinner filled with lots of laughing. a dip into the christmas of the future, with xavier next to his suitor.

xavier was awoken by the pitter patter of bare feet entering their room. groggily, the thirty seven year old king sat up in his bed, a smile forming on his lips. he picked up each kid one by one to put them on the bed.

“ let’s wake up your daddy all on three, okay ?? we’re gonna tell ‘im merry christmas and then attack him with kisses, got it ?? ” he whispers at the kids. “ and don’t pinch your daddy, got it, ellie ?? okay.. one, two, three, ” he counted down before nudging albie a bit with his elbow.

merry christmases fill the air as xavier watched his husband arise from his slumber. a kiss is pressed to albie’s lips immediately before their six kids pile up on them, attacking them with enough love to make the world go round.

it’s quickly brought to a halt when little eleanor broke the love fest with a plea, “ can we open presents now that daddy’s up?! ” a giggle fell from xavier’s lips as he pressed a kiss to his little girl’s nose. xavier managed to free himself from his family to arise from his bed. the american king carried his eldest daughter into the living room, albie and the rest of the kids following his lead. xavier took a seat next to his husband of sixteen years, hand grasping at the slightly older male’s. “ ‘s our dream, innit ?? buncha kids runnin’ around and us still madly in love as ever?? ” xavier whispered as he pressed another kiss to albie’s lips.

“ you’re still my favorite christmas gift of all, albie windsor. ”

xavier awoke, still in a daze from his dream. he’d never been so worked up from a dream before. memories of past hurt flooded back into his mind, but they were soon erased by the joy of what he’d seen was to come... and then in a twinkling, he heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing of each hoof. he arose from his bed to glance at the window to spot old st. nick atop his roof... but xavier knew that the greatest gift of all was fast asleep in his bed. and then st. nick sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. but xavier heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—“happy christmas to all, and to all a good night!” ...and xavier knew it would be a very, very happy christmas, the first of many.

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moonchild-rise · 6 years ago

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#22 & Yoonseok 💕😭

1-Hour Prompts: where I set a timer for one hour and what I write is what I write. :) (groups I’m willing to (try) to write for in the tag on the post linked to the ‘1′)

#22 on the Mini-Fic prompt list: things you said after it was over

————————

The whole thing, this whole Hoseok dating thing, had been hard to watch. It had been hard to watch for awhile now if Yoongi was being honest.

Hoseok was his best friend, he loved him. He loved him more than he should. He’d accepted that a long time ago. Hoseok was the highlight of his existence and if you think that sounds pathetic, then you should be aware that Yoongi still hadn’t actually told Hoseok that he loved him. Like really loved him. Like wanted to hold his hand, kiss his lips, hold him close, take him out, lay in bed and do nothing but talk in love with him.

Even more pathetic was the fact that they did all those things anyway. Hoseok laced their hands together while they weaved through a crowd, he played with his fingers while they watched whatever movie they’d pulled up on Yoongi’s laptop. He planted lazy kisses on the crown of Yoongi’s head, against the corner of his mouth if he got too tipsy. He wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s waist and pulled him into his side when it rained, he shared his coat and his body heat while they waited for the bus. They went out for coffee at four in the morning, they got shitty food from the truck that parked down by the river just because they didn’t want to walk any further than a block from their apartment. They laid in bed with their legs tangled together and shoulders pressing, bitching about their lives and their jobs and school and the entire time the words that burned on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue were ‘I love you. I like you. I want you. Do you want me?’.

He never asked, though, because he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. Drunk Hoseok may stumble into their apartment and straight to Yoongi’s bed where he would worm his way under the covers and tuck himself under Yoongi’s arm. His breath would stink of beer and the kisses he would press against Yoongi’s shoulder and the junction of his neck were slick and open mouthed and innocent.

In the morning Yoongi would wake up alone with only the tiny marks Hoseok’s teeth had left behind when he got sleepy and a bit nibbly before he passed out.

All of this made it incredibly hard to watch when Hoseok dated.

And he dated a lot.

Hoseok was an attractive guy, obviously, you didn’t need to tell Yoongi that. He had no problem finding dates. The girls, he tended to take out and show a good time. They got all his affection. The boys, however, they always managed to snag his heart. And none of them were ever gentle with it.

Hoseok was a warm, funny, touchy-feely kind of guy, but for some reason that didn’t seem to transfer over to him being one of those people who fell in and out of love. He tended to guard his heart behind wit and a careful distancing if he felt like someone was getting to close. However, he just couldn’t seem to ward off the ones who were destined to hurt him the most. He would eventually fall, and fall hard. When he did, there would be no one there to catch him.

No one, that is, except Yoongi.

Tonight Yoongi had the whole metaphorical crash pad set up. He’d seen it coming for weeks. Hoseok frowning at his phone as his texts were ignored for the third day in a row. Hoseok slamming things around in the kitchen as he aggressively cleaned to stave off frustration after the fourth canceled date. Hoseok spending extra hours at the dance studio so he wouldn’t have to admit to himself that he’d be spending the night alone again.

When he’d finally managed to get his current love interest to commit to a night out, he’d been all smiles and the hope in his eyes was enough to make Yoongi want to barf up his own heart and eat it just so he wouldn’t have to feel like this. Hoseok looked so hopeful, but Yoongi could see the glint of the sniper’s scope from miles out. Hoseok was about to get shot out of the sky and for some reason he never ever saw it coming.

So Yoongi was waiting. He was waiting for the inevitable mess that would come stumbling through the door. He wondered how long it would take this one to do it. Would he wait for dinner to be over? Would they order dessert? Would he take him to the bar like they’d planned? Would he break up with him over drinks and a germy bowl of bar nuts? Or would he wait until the end of the night and break Hoseok’s heart on his own doorstep?

As it turned out, it was the latter. He hated this option the most, because he had to hear it. The only consolation was that, this way, Hoseok couldn’t go get drunk afterwards. Not unless he wanted to get drunk on the shitty cheap vodka stashed in the back of their cabinet.

Sometimes he did.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss me goodnight?”

He heard Hoseok’s voice, coy and teasing through the thin wood of their apartment door.

“Or you could come in. My roommate won’t mind.”

There was a silence and Yoongi gritted his teeth so hard he could have sworn he heard them crack.

“Listen, Hoseok, you’re a fun guy. Like, I’ve had a lot of fun with you. But it’s just for fun you know?”

Ouch.

“Fun? Did you just say ‘fun’ three times? Did you say I’m ‘fun’? What the fuck does that mean, it doesn’t even sound like a real word anymore!”

“I’m sorry, I’m just not interested in anything long term and you seem like you want the whole ‘relationship’ spectrum. That’s just not my thing, you know?”

“Fine. It’s just not your thing. This was fun. I got it. See you never, I guess.”

Yoongi heard the scrape of Hoseok’s keys in the lock, the shaking and rattling as he fumbled with them, the frustrated huff as the lock refused to turn over and he released he must have tried to use the wrong key.

“Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll see you in class on Monday. We can still be friends.”

Yoongi could practically see him. The way his eyes would be shiny, the way he’d be biting his lip to keep the tears from falling, the way he’d square his shoulders before speaking,

“Fine, we’re friends. See you in class.”

“Will you stop saying ‘fine’, you’re allowed to be upset you know. I’m sorry I don’t feel the same way. You’re great, I just-“

Yoongi strode to the door and pulled it open. He grabbed Hoseok by the elbow and pulled him into the apartment. He fixed the guy standing there awkwardly, hands shoved in his pockets, with a lazy stare. Seyong, he remembered his name was. Hoseok had been excited to meet him. A fellow dancer, a few years older. He’d thought dating an older guy would be different. More ready for the commitment less interested in a quick fuck.

“Get out of here.” Yoongi mumbled, slamming the door in Seyong’s face.

He turned to Hoseok who was already laying face down on the couch. His shoulders shook and bit and Yoongi sighed. He hated it when he cried. Hoseok was a bit of a crybaby to begin with, but for the little things. The sweet things. Like puppies or his dongsaengs falling in love or his sister sending him a particularly beautiful picture of a flower she spotted on her way to work. He didn’t cry over his own misery. He squared up, he lashed out, he aggressively scrubbed and folded and smiled until it looked like it hurt his face but at least no one could tell that it was his heart that was actually hurting.

A crying, heartbroken Hoseok was a defeated Hoseok and a defeated Hoseok was Yoongi’s worst nightmare.

“Get up. Get out of those clothes. Let’s go to bed.”

Like he was on autopilot Hoseok stumbled to his feet and into the bathroom. Yoongi pretended not to see his tear stained cheeks and Hoseok pretended like his nose hadn’t just snotted all over the couch cushions.

Yoongi piled all his extra pillows on his bed and grabbed Hoseok’s favorite green blanket, the fleecy one his grandma had sent him two Christmases ago. He hooked his laptop up to the big tv that perched on his dresser top and queued up If Only so Hoseok could blame his tears on the movie.

Hoseok shuffled in with wet hair wearing last night’s pajamas. Yoongi hopped up onto the bed and pressed himself against the wall. He patted the empty space next to him and Hoseok flopped onto the bed. He curled up on his side and Yoongi pressed play before laying down behind Hoseok. He tentatively laid a hand on his hip and when Hoseok shuffled closer, he wrapped his arm fully around his waist. Hoseok laid quietly, watched Paul Nicholls try to save Jennifer Love Hewitt from a terrible fate, and finally let the tears fall near the end when they showed her sitting in the hospital corridor crying. He cried straight through to the end of the movie when she stood alone on the stage, smiling.

The credits rolled and Yoongi pressed pause, the dark room lit by nothing but the silvery light of white words on a black screen. Hoseok’s sobs had died down to more of shudder and Yoongi ran his hand soothingly up and down his side.

The silence felt suffocating. Yoongi opened his mouth to end it, even if all he could offer were useless platitudes.

“Hobi-yah-“ he said at the same time Hoseok mumbled out a watery,

“That’s just how it is, isn’t it?”

“How what is?” Yoongi asked, letting his fingers press a little harder into Hoseok’s skin, trying to soothe his tension away with gentle, repetitive pressure. Hoseok always did like to be massaged and petted.

“Even if you do find love, even if you love someone with your whole heart, you end up alone anyway. They chose something over you. Their job, their dreams, their family. And you can’t even be mad about it because of course those things are more important than you. Even if it’s not so dramatic as death, even if it’s just something so mundane like simply falling out of love, you only have yourself. And even then yourself is shitty and you can’t rely on yourself not to make things worse.” He was quiet for a second, let his words hand in the air. “Or maybe it’s none of that and it’s just me. Maybe I’m just not worth even thinking about choosing me over something else. Maybe there’s just something about that’s not enough.”

Yoongi sighed. He hooked his chin over Hoseok’s shoulder so that his lips were right next to his ear. So he could talk and not disturb the neighbors whose own bedroom was just on the other side of his wall.

“You criticize yourself too harshly.” He said gruffly, “If they can’t see your worth, they’re-“

“Don’t do that. Don’t say that crap that everyone always says about how ‘if they can’t see how much you’re worth then they didn’t deserve you anyway.’ It’s bullshit. It’s pointless. It’s doesn’t mean anything.” He sounded bitter. He sounded angry. It sounded wrong, weird, distorted the voice Yoongi had come to know so well.

Hoseok wanted sincere. He wanted words that meant something or he didn’t want anything at all.

Yoongi wasn’t willing to give him nothing.

He tried again.

“I have known you for three years. I have been your roommate since day one, freshman dorm. Have I ever told you how grateful I am? For every minute you’ve spent with me? I don’t…. I don’t know if I can ever repay you.”

He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. He chose his words carefully. This was getting dangerously close to uncharted waters, here, underneath warm blankets, lying in bed with the line of Hoseok’s back fitting the curve of his own body so perfectly. The green apple scent of his shampoo tickled his nose, wafting off still damp hair that stuck to his forehead and the nape of his neck. Yoongi’s lips tingled with the sudden impulsive need to press a kiss there, where the edges of his hair curled over the little dip at the base of his skull.

His fingers pressed harder and Hoseok shifted, a pleased little grunt as some of the tension finally faded from his skin, urged away by the quiet machinations of Yoongi’s deft hands.

“Repay me for what?”

“Being you, honestly. I’m good with people. I’m good at networking and making connections and a good impression and all of that. I’m not so good at making friends, or maintaining them. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have a phone full of contacts and no one to call. You didn’t let me work myself to death. You made sure I had some fun.” He winced, fun, did he have to use that word? He hurried on, “I-I think that even if we were apart, even if it was years and year and a distance so far we couldn’t even count it, we’d still be friends. I wouldn’t ever chose anyone over you. You’re my best friend.”

Hoseok turned in his arms, suddenly, and then they were face to face. Hoseok’s eyes were still overbright, the weak light from the tv caught on the tears clinging to his lashes, but his gaze was steady.

“You’re my best friend, hyung.” He breathed, his hands coming up to tangle in the material of the oversized t-shirt Yoongi had chosen to wear to bed, and for one wild second Yoongi thought he was going to kiss him. His stomach lurched and his heart stopped and he realized with an agonizing clarity that he would have to reject him. That he couldn’t let Hoseok kiss him when he was heartbroken and hurting and looking for someone to comfort him.

“You’re my best friend.” He said again, as he tucked his head underneath Yoongi’s chin. One of Yoongi’s hands slide around Hoseok’s back to glide under the loose fitting tank he’d thrown on after his shower, to continue his gentle massage, while the other automatically raised to comb through Hoseok’s hair. Hoseok let out a shaky sigh that sent a scattering of warm breath across Yoongi’s collarbones. “The guys you date are the luckiest guys in the world. I would kill for a guy like you.”

Yoongi scoffed, thinking there wasn’t any real difference between him and the guys Hoseok dated. Yoongi had broken plenty of hearts, but it wasn’t a fear of commitment or a dedication to his job that caused him to break things off. It was the fact that he loved Hoseok. He loved him and no one could compare to him. He’d long ago resigned himself to being single until graduation. Until school was over and they were no longer roommates and he could put some distance between himself and Hoseok and try to break the hold he had over him. Hoseok would kill for a guy like him, but not for him.

Hoseok shuffled, sliding his knee in between Yoongi’s thighs, his hands still clutched in the front of Yoongi’s shirt.

The tv winked off, idle for too long, leaving them in an almost perfect darkness. The blackout curtains on Yoongi’s bedroom window blocked out all but the thinnest line of light from the street lamps outside. It shined across the room and reflected off the mirror on the wall above his dresser, illuminating the mess of accessories; sunglasses, jewelry, beanies, and scarves, piled in a tangle that made it hard to get ready in the morning but that he couldn’t ever seem to find the time to unravel.

He thought after a while that Hoseok must have fallen asleep. His fingers fill combed through raven hair and his palm rested gently on the small of Hoseok back.

Hoseok sucked in a shuddering breath, the kind someone took when they were drifting off to sleep and suddenly felt like they were falling. He turned his head so that his lips pressed against the pulse point of Yoongi’s neck.

“Do you remember freshman year….” He murmured, voice slurred by his approaching slumber, “When someone snuck that bottle of absolutely rank tequila into the dorms and our whole floor got wicked drunk and we paid the RA ₩50,000 not to call security on us?”

Yoongi smiled a little at the memory,

“Yeah, it was barely a month into school and we were all too chicken to try to crash a real party since we were underage but we were so impatient to start partying like ‘real’ college students. So we sat on the floor of our pathetic little shoebox of a dorm and drank straight from the bottle because no one had glasses and everyone was too afraid to go to the store to buy some because what if we get carded?”

Hoseok sniggered,

“No one gets carded for buying shot glasses, god, we were stupid.”

“Right? We were so stupid. And then Namjoon suggested that we play a game because he said it wasn’t a real party if we were just getting drunk sitting on the rug so we decided to play-“ he stopped, eyes widening.

“Truth or Dare.” Hoseok finished, the chapped skin of his lips catching on Yoongi’s throat as he spoke. “And at first everyone was daring people to do dumb shit like moon out the window or run to the bathrooms and back singing whatever shitty pop song was number one at the time but then Kihyun dared you to kiss me.”

Yoongi has forgotten about that. How could he have forgotten about that? Probably because, at the time, it hadn’t been a big deal. He’d just met Hoseok. He was his roommate. He was loud and obnoxious and made Yoongi pick up his shoes from in front of the doorway. He played music too loud and did girl group dance in their limited space when Yoongi was trying to study insisting that it was how he studied.

Kissing Hoseok back then hadn’t been a big deal. He was an openly gay man, Hoseok had recently confessed to him that he was bisexual, and he was attractive. Kissing him would be fun, he’d probably get some good wank bank material out of it, and then they’d move on.

But Hoseok had blushed and stammered and the vision Yoongi had held in his head of kissing his roommate, of making it steamy enough and sexy enough to make their classmates hoot and holler in drunken delight was lost to a fond eye roll and a quick gentle peck on the lips. He wasn’t about to embarrass the kid.

“You kissed me and it was the most g-rated kiss of my life. I’ve always felt cheated by it, especially after watching you make out with dudes at parties. Is it dumb that I always think about that kiss when one of these things blows up in my face? How I always go back to that every time it’s over? It wasn’t even a good kiss….”

He really was falling asleep this time, he must be because he was rambling…

“You should kiss me for real some time, Yoongi….. now that it’s over……”

———————

I hope you liked it, I posted it on ao3 as well ^_^

#annie writes things #yoonseok #tumblr prompts #bts #bangtan #bts fic #yoonseok fic

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