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cantteachanoldguardnewquotes · 4 years ago

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Of Course He Said Yes.

Read on AO3

Summary: Nicky finds the perfect rings and decides it's high time he proposes to his husband again.

No warnings apply.

*The poetry I used is not mine I combined some different lines I found on the internet*

"Oh." Nicky said aloud then quickly looked around to be sure no one else had heard him. He was in the clear. Joe had ran next door to get them iced tea while Nicky looked around the antique store, and no one else was around.

He looked back at the box with two of the most beautiful rings he'd seen in a long time. One was silver with a light sea blue winding around it and the other was the same color of blue with silver winding around it. He picked one up and realized there was half of a tiny sun carved into it and he was excited to see that it fit perfectly with the other tiny half of a sun, and it made the blue and silver align to look like one larger ring.

The rings might as well have been made for them, they were even the perfect size, except Nicky didn't think he could ever think that far into a ring. It reminded him of their visits to Malta and he was sure Joe would make the connection because the blue matched the blue of the sea perfectly.

Nicky didn't even check the price tag he just looked around to make sure Joe was no where in sight and walked up to the counter. "I'll take these, please." He smiled at the tired looking cashier.

The cashier picked up the box to scan the tag. "We've had these here for so long I wasn't sure anyone was going to buy them. I don't know why though, they're very pretty rings." He commented as he rung up his purchase.

Nicky smiled. "They were waiting for the right home."

The cashier only nodded absently at Nicky's comment, as Nicky handed over the money.

He slipped the box into his pocket and then went back to looking around the store.

Except now he wasn't actually looking at anything. His mind was going in a million different directions as he pondered the best way to give them to Joe.

When Joe walked in with their drinks looking like he belonged on the cover of a magazine (at least that was Nicky's humble opinion), with his shorts, t-shirt, and sunglasses. He gave Nicky the same bright smile he always gave him, and even though Nicky couldn't see his eyes he knew they were shining, and he knew exactly how he wanted to present these rings to his beloved. He was going to propose to him. Again.

****

The rings he carefully stashed in his sniper case, hopefully a place Joe wouldn't look, while Nicky ironed out all the details for his big night. The only downside to sharing everything with Joe was it did make surprise gifts a little more work. Not that he would ever actually complain.

Clothes and storage space weren't the only things they shared. He was so used to telling Joe everything that he had been struggling to keep the cat in the bag, since all he could think about was how good the rings were going to look on Joe's fingers.

But he managed to keep quiet and he didn't think Joe suspected a thing when Nicky asked him to go out Friday night.

"Of course I'll go out Friday. Anywhere in particular you want to go?" Joe asked.

Nicky brushed a loose curl off Joe's forehead. "I've got all the details planned out. It's a surprise."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Just something small I think you'll enjoy." Nicky said, trying to seem nonchalant.

Joe grinned. "I'll enjoy any surprise if it's from you."

****

Nicky led Joe to a secluded part of the beach where he had already set up a blanket, dishes, silverware, drinks, and a radio. He carried a cooler for the food in one hand and Joe's hand in his other.

He smiled at Joe's excitement at having dinner on the beach. It wasn't Malta but the beach held a special place in their hearts no matter where they were. It wasn't as warm as Nicky had hoped but neither of them were really bothered by that.

They settled on the blanket, side by side so that their shoulders and legs still touched.

Nicky began pulling out the food he had prepared. He had asked Joe to stay out of the kitchen all afternoon so that dinner would also be a surprise, and now proudly presented the kabsa, tabbouleh, falafel, and date cookies he'd worked so hard on.

Joe grinned ear to ear at Nicky's choice of food. "You know just what I like." He nuzzled Nicky's neck in gratitude.

"You would say the same thing if I'd brought lunch meat sandwiches." Nicky teased.

"That's because it's a gift from the heart, so it's all special." Joe says. "But you know these dishes are favorites of mine, and I know how much work you put in, so you should know how much I appreciate you." Joe kissed Nicky's cheek.

Nicky pointed the spoon he was dishing out the food with at Joe, his eyes full of amusement."Keep saying things like that and I'll have no choice but to make sure you eat extra date cookies."

"I'll have to keep that in mind."

Joe took his first bite and nearly kissed Nicky then and there. He would have if he wasn't so hungry and unable to get enough of the delicious food.

"Babe, I haven't had food this good since the last time you made it." He said blissfully, pausing only after he'd taken several bites of everything, tilting back his head.

"If you're not careful all these compliments are going to go to my head." He laughed, thrilled by Joe's reaction.

"That's right where they should go, you have every right to be full of pride when you cook food this good."

Nicky laughed again. "It's only because I had an eager taste tester to feed for all these years, that I practiced at all."

"Ha!" Joe barked out. "I didn't trust you with my family's secret tabbouleh recipe for months after we started traveling together."

"But I won you over."

Joe couldn't stand it anymore and leaned in to give Nicky a proper kiss on the mouth.

"Boy, did you ever." Joe said after they parted.

They finished their meal and enjoyed desert, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, sharing long, sweet, kisses, and listening to the quiet music that played on the radio.

"Will you come with me? I have something I'd like to show you." Nicky asked, after their food had settled.

Joe looked surprised that there could be more to this already magical evening, but stood up without asking questions.

Nicky took his hand and led him over to a cave in the rocks, he pulled out his phone's flashlight, motioning for Joe to do the same, and then led them inside.

They kept walking, Nicky leading the way never doubting which way to go, until he led them to where it opened up, reveling an underground lake.

It was beautiful and Joe could only stop and stare at how the water rippled, how the water and rocks caught the light, and how large the cavern they were in was.

"Incredible." Joe whispered.

Nicky squeezed his hand. "Thought you'd want to see it."

Joe nodded still taking in the scene before him.

"Now one more thing, if I could direct your attention over to this particular wall?" Nicky shined his flashlight to where he would like Joe to look.

Joe walked over to the wall, trying to figure out why it was important. "Oh, there's writing here."

"I carved it into the wall so that it would last for a long time as a reminder of my love for you." Nicky explained. "Would you do me the honor of reading it out loud all the way through?" Nicky asked.

"How long did that take you?" Joe murmured running his hand along the writing. "Of course I'll read it aloud." Joe cleared his throat and began.

"I named the stars, one by one, after every favorite memory of you. I have late conversations with the moon; he tells me about the sun, and I tell him about you. my soul burns bright and it burns true but it burns only for you. You. Until the end of my days, you."

Joe turned around, his heart melting and overcome with the love he felt, to find Nicky on one knee holding open a box with two rings in it.

"Yusuf, will you marry me?"

Joe couldn't speak. It didn't matter that they were already married, that they are more than that, but he wasn't sure if there was a word for what they are. It didn't matter that they had done this to each other more than a few times over the centuries. It didn't matter that he had already pledged himself to Nicky more times than he could count in more ways than he could name.

Seeing the effort Nicky had put into this night to woo him, to sweep him off his feet, left Joe feeling more emotions than he knew what to do with.

After a few moments of him trying and failing to speak, which he could tell just by his face Nicky was glowing at his ability to steal Joe's voice from him, he managed to squeak out. "Yes. Of course my answer is yes, I will always choose you Niccolò."

Then they were kissing and hugging, trying to find air and space to kiss and talk at the same time to tell each other how much they love each other, how they would never have anyone else, how much they mean to each other.

The world outside faded away and left them with nothing but this space and each other.

"The rings! I want you to see the rings, Joe." Nicky said once they had stopped kissing each other like their life depended on it.

"Yes, please, I need to see them."

They still held onto each other as Nicky turned just enough to grab the box that lay forgotten on the ground.

Nicky slid them onto Joe's fingers, gently and carefully replacing the old with the new.

Joe held up his hand to admire them and get a better look with the flashlight.

His breath caught in his throat and all he managed to breath out was "Malta." Before he was kissing Nicky again.

"My love, my life, my everything, they are perfect the most beautiful rings a man could ask for." He said in between showering Nicky with kisses.

"Knew you'd think of that as soon as I spotted them and thought of it myself." Nicky answered in between kisses.

Nicky felt like he was on top of the world, and the luckiest man alive. This night was a perfect night.

#The Old Guard #fluff #literally nothing but fluff #Nicky #Joe #immortal husbands #fic #Twi writes sometimes

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years ago

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Mission of Mercy: Thirty- Three

Bucky watched through the sliding door as you put the sleeping puppy, now dubbed Lucy in her pen and smiled. He felt a little like his heart was going to burst. He’d loved seeing you pick her up and hold her. And he knew as soon as you picked her up that she was just in love with you… Bucky could sympathize.

When you padded towards him, he turned his attention back to the table. There were some snacks and more champagne. And some Birthday cake. One that he got from your favorite bakery. It wasn’t tiramisu but a new love. It was an almond cake with strawberry icing and some kind of filling he couldn’t remember. But it didn’t matter. All he cared about was you.

“She settled in?” he asked.

“She’s got some lunch and a warm spot for naps,” you say nodding, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest.

He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, “I’ve got a couple more things that I want to give you,” he said softly.

“Bucky-”

“I know it’s a lot,” he said, kissing you again. “But I’m not gonna stop until you actually look forward to your birthday next year.”

You sigh and snuggle into him, hugging him harder. “I really don’t know how you’re going to top a puppy and a hot tub.”

Bucky grinned and slapped you on the ass teasingly, “Go sit down and I’ll show you, huh? Then we’ll go investigate the hot tub.” Bucky would be lying if he said he wasn’t still nervous. But he knew if he didn’t do presents now, there were a couple that he’d probably chicken out on. They were big. Really big. But then. He had a lot of history to obliterate in a few short hours. And he wanted to remind you that you were his.

He refilled your glass and took a sip of his own before kissing your hand and going to get the rest of his bag of tricks. When he came back you were watching the trees. The petals drifting across the grass and you looked happy. You felt happy. Content. There was a soul-deep peace that just emanated from you. And it felt good. You’d let go of your strangle hold on yourself and for now, you were just here. The rest of the world was foggy and far away and all there was, was this. He sat at your feet and rested his head on your lap, relishing the feel of your fingers in his hair.

Somehow, you could say a lot with very little. And that little touch, how content you were to just be with him, told him more than a million over dramatic thank yous. “So,” he said after a long moment, skimming his fingers over your thigh, “let me waterboard you with some more presents, huh?”

“Do we have to?” you ask, apprehensive.

“We absolutely do,” he chuckled, taking your free hand and kissing it, “Before I chicken out.” He took a deep breath and shifted so he was in front of you.

He knows you can feel the tremors of nerves and he squeezes your hand. “Just know,” he said gently, “That no matter what you say now, I love you. So much. I want you to be happy. And safe. I want to give you the life you deserve. And no matter what, that’s not going to change. You don’t have to do this alone… Marry me?”

For half a second, he can feel you stop breathing and he’s pretty sure your heart literally skips a beat. He’s never seen you freeze like this and he’s not sure what you’re going to say. All he can do is hang on to your hand and remind you that he’s right there. And when you fly at him, your lips crashing into his as you tackle him into the grass he laughs, cradling you against him and pinning you under him gently. “Is that a yes?”

When you nod, kissing him again, he relishes the salt from the tears running down your cheeks and takes your hand, sliding the ring he picked out for you onto your hand. “It’s perfect,” you tell him, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I might have had a little- no actually I had a lot of help with this one,” he said modestly, adjusting to pull you upright and into his lap. “I had a chat with Joe- and he gave me this one to give to you. And I thought- Well. I just wanted to remind you that you can’t change your past. I know that it’s always going to come with you. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t have a future.”

“This- this is my great grandmas,” you murmur. You’d seen it before. It was a family heirloom that had been handed down for longer than anyone alive could remember. It had come over on a boat, sewn into the hem of a dress. The stones had been reset at some point. But the meaning was the same. Bucky nodded. Joe had told him the story. And told him that it had been meant to go to Clay to give to his future wife but things being what they were… He didn’t want it getting lost in the shuffle after he died. And changing tradition was better than the tradition dying altogether.

Bucky hears Lucy before you do, but when you do, and you get to your feet to go check on her, he grins. The baby crying is probably the only force on earth that could have pulled you away from him right now. And when you return, holding a wriggling mass of fluff, he pulls you both into his lap happily. “I promised you one more thing,” he rumbled against your ear, chuckling as Lucy attempted to test her teeth on his vibranium fingers, “the night I broke your bed.”

“I’m not holding you to anything you said after we had sex,” you say, kissing his jaw.

“I know,” he snorted, “But I am. Because I meant it. I still mean it. And I’m not going to let you hold yourself back.” He cuddled you close and kissed the hollow of your shoulder tenderly. “So.”

“So?” you answer, resting your head on his chest.

“I’m going to build a house,” he said softly. And when you squeak, he presses a finger to your lips. “All I bought is the property we’re going to put it on. We’re going to figure out what we want together… But I didn’t just want to spring a whole house on you with everything else.”

“I appreciate it,” you exhale slowly and tuck your face into his neck. “You really did think of everything.”

“I had 28 birthdays to make up for,” he hummed, “But- I think I’m out of presents now.”

“You think?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

“Pretty sure… I might have a couple more. But- I’m not going to lie to you. They’re skimpy little outfits that I really want to see you in.”

And you laugh, kissing him hard enough that he has to stop you from knocking him over again. “And where are those?” you ask, pushing hair out of his eyes.

“On the bed,” he said, cheeks heating. And when you hand him the puppy to keep him company, he has to take a few deep breaths to keep from following you and throwing you over his shoulder.

“I hope one of them is a bikini,” you call over your shoulder, gesturing broadly at the hot tub.

“Don’t girls skinny dip anymore?” he answered, sounding mock disappointed.

#Bucky x reader #fluff #hurt/comfort #soft bucky #Bucky Barnes

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bitchin-beskar · 4 years ago

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Spidey Sense

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: So the original prompt for this was something along the lines of: "hey, what if Joe and Nicky keep pictures of each other in their wallets to remind them of why they're doing this whenever they have to be apart" and this was born from that. Enjoy!

Tags: @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin @perropascal

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my works!

Please like and reblog! I love feedback!!!

Gazing down at the image of the love of his life, forever immortalized by his hand, never failed to bring a smile to Joe’s lips. His drawings would never be as magnificent, as breathtaking as looking at Nicky with his own two eyes, but whenever they were apart, he had to make do with images drawn by his hand.

Slipping the small slip of paper back into his wallet, Joe flipped it shut and slid it into one of his many pockets. He hated going on missions without Nicky, but this particular job had required his expertise in infiltrating one building while Nicky’s skills as a sniper were required four blocks away. It was unfortunate, but not the first time it had happened, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

When Copley had informed them of the job, he’d made sure they knew that he’d been unable to get any estimates on the number of guards they’d have to deal with. It made Joe uneasy, but they’d gone through with it anyways. Some tech company was trying to use their software to hack into the Pentagon to steal the locations of missile silos located all over the US. The government was very concerned about this threat, and so Copley had called them in.

Joe was supposed to create a distraction at the main headquarters, drawing the company’s attention and thus, allowing Nicky to eliminate guards at the warehouse that housed the company's main servers, which would then allow Nile and Booker to get in and plant explosives. Boom! No more servers, no more threat.

Nicky had been worried about Joe causing a distraction when they didn’t know the amount of guards, but Joe had tried to soothe his beloved’s fears as best he could.

“Habibi,” he’d said, hand resting on Nicky’s waist, holding him close. “I will be fine. And if anything were to go wrong, I know that you will not allow them to hold me for long.”

Nicky had leaned his forehead against Joe’s, one of his many, silent, I love you’s that he bestowed upon Joe throughout the day. “I would prefer it if nothing goes wrong.”

“As would I.”

***

Nicky had been right to worry, and Joe knew he would never hear the end of it. There had been twice as many guards as Copley’s estimate, and even with Joe’s healing, and centuries worth of experience, he’d quickly been overwhelmed. They’d knocked him out–although, perhaps they’d killed him, Joe wasn’t entirely sure–and when he woke, he was chained to a metal chair, bolted in the middle of an all white room.

His first thought had been something along the lines of how poor of a choice it was to put him in an all white room, as it undoubtedly would become quite the grotesque scene when Nicky arrived. Blood clashed so horribly on white walls, and Nicky could get quite ferocious whenever Joe was threatened.

His second thought was on the fact that even while bound, he could tell that his wallet was no longer in his pocket. That, in of itself was of no consequence, practically everything in it was fake–it was hard to have valid ID’s and such when you were an immortal warrior born nine hundred years ago–but there was one precious item in that wallet.

The drawing of Nicky was one of many, but that didn’t mean it was any less special. Joe had saved every single scrap of paper he’d ever drawn Nicky’s likeness on, and while some had aged beyond recognition, he hadn’t had the heart to let any of them go. He knew that Nicky similarly had many, many photographs and paintings of him. Nicky always professed that he wasn’t as artistically inclined as Joe, but every time Nicky sketched him, Joe could see the love and care that went into each piece of art, and he fell in love with Nicky all over again.

He was jolted out of his musings by the door opening violently, slamming against the wall. He didn’t react outwardly, instead analyzing each of the men that walked into the room. Ten men entered, the last, an older man with grey in his hair, shut the door behind him, making a show of locking it. Joe wanted to scoff. These men didn’t intimidate him in the slightest, and they would have to try a lot harder if they wanted to get a reaction out of him.

“Who sent you?”

Joe laughed. So this is how they were doing this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man scowled, the expression twisting his features into a mask of hatred. “I don’t like your attitude, kid.”

Joe laughed even harder at that, his body shaking with mirth, although his eyes were cold as ice. “I’m not quite as young as I look,” he chuckled under his breath, watching as the other men shuffled awkwardly. They clearly feared the older man, and he could see in some of their eyes that they feared for him if he continued to antagonize their leader.

There was a sharp crack, and Joe’s head snapped to the side, the backhand delivered with an impressive amount of force. It might’ve hurt, if Joe hadn’t lived as long as he had, and had experienced far worse. Still, he kept up appearances. The longer these men were unaware of his healing and his immortality, the better.

“Who sent you?”

Joe grins, the perfect picture of innocence. “Who says anyone sent me? Perhaps I decided to come all by myself?” He probably shouldn’t be antagonizing this man, but he’s having too much fun.

The man snaps his fingers, and one of the other men rushes forward to hand him something. Joe recognizes it as his wallet, watching as the man flips through it, pulling out his driver’s license. “Joseph Jones? Is that even your name?” The man scoffs. “Why were you trying to break in?”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to break in.” The man looks confused for all of two seconds before Joe opens his mouth again. “I’d already broken in. Your men found me after I got in.” Joe can’t help but brag a little, because, well, their security was shit, but also because he was trying to stall for time, so that Nile and Booker could get in and out without any issues. “You really shouldn’t have picked white walls you know, white stains so easily–”

He gets another backhand for his efforts, and the man in front of him actually growls. He goes back to pawing through Joe’s wallet, and Joe can feel his heart stop when the man pulls out Joe’s drawing of Nicky.

The man looks at it, and it’s clear he doesn’t know what to think at first. He studies the drawing, and Joe can feel sparks of anger igniting in his chest, although he tries not to show it. The man suddenly laughs, and it’s a cruel, mocking laugh. He shoves the drawing at one of the other men before turning back to Joe, a cruel smirk on his face.

“How cute,” he sneers. “Mr. Jones keeps a picture of his boyfriend in his wallet.” The man spits on the ground at Joe’s feet. “God, that’s disgusting.”

Anger clouds Joe’s vision, bubbling up in his chest like rising magma before bursting forth from his mouth before he can stop it.

“Boyfriend? Boyfriend? Nicolo is not my boyfriend,” he spits, fire burning in his eyes. “You are a narrow-minded, childish, little man. Nicolo means more to me than all the stars in the sky. He has been my light, my heart, for over nine hundred years, and he will continue to be my light and my heart for nine hundred more. I have fought a thousand battles by his side, I have gone to war to protect him just as he has for me. There will always be those who try to separate us, those who cannot possibly understand the depth of my love for that man, and yet,” he pauses, a dark smirk on his face as some of the men step back in fear. “Those who try always end up dead. No, Nicolo is not my boyfriend. He’s all and he’s more.”

***

Nicky was in the middle of dismantling his rifle when he felt it. It didn’t even take him a moment before he recognized the feeling. It was the feeling he always got whenever Joe would make grand declarations of love, which, admittedly, happened quite often. While Nicky was more reserved when it came to lyrical speeches, Joe had no such qualms, and would gladly shout to the heavens–and had done so, multiple times–about his love for Nicky.

Just as he was reaching for his phone to call Copley–because clearly something had to be wrong if Joe was waxing poetic about Nicky when Nicky wasn’t even in the same building–the phone buzzed.

Nicky didn’t even have time to greet Copley before the man was launching into an explanation. “Nicky, I’m sorry, there were too many guards, Joe’s been captured. They’re holding him somewhere in the building, but I don’t have eyes inside.”

“I’m on my way.”

Sending a quick message to Nile and Booker, informing them of what happened, Nicky finished packing up his gear quickly, leaving his spot on the roof and descending the fire escape as fast–and safely, he’d be no good to Joe if he executed a swan dive off the fifth story–as possible.

***

Joe could feel his mouth filling with blood, so he leaned forward and spat some on the ground. Apparently the older man hadn’t been too pleased with being insulted, and he ordered his men to get answers out of Joe, while he watched.

The beating, while not one of the worst he’d experienced, had not been pleasant. Thankfully, the men hadn’t seemed to realize Joe was slowly healing from their attacks, but sooner or later they would get suspicious. He hoped one of the others would get here before that happened, he really didn’t like dying alone.

He’d just been punched repeatedly in the stomach when the man doing said punching stopped. Joe was confused, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about a reprieve.

“What?” Barked the older man, pushing himself off the wall and stalking forward. “What is it?” The younger man shook his head, looking around.

“Did anyone else–?”

He cuts off when a loud bang sounds from outside the door. All of the men turn to look at the door, missing as a smile spreads across Joe’s bloody lips. Another bang sounds, louder than before, closer than before, and some of the men jump.

“What do you think it is?” One of them whispers, and before anyone can answer, something heavy slams into the bolted door from the outside. The whole door seems to shake in it’s frame, and it’s only made worse by the sudden scream of pain.

There’s a sudden onslaught of noise, bangs, screams, gunshots, and crashes and–was that a cat screeching? The men all back away slowly from the door, hands on their weapons, but nothing could have prepared them for the way the door was blasted off its hinges, flying into the room and taking out two of the men.

There’s a sudden burst of gunfire, taking out three more of the men before they can react. Watching their companions fall around them, the remaining four men all aim for the door, shooting wildly at a target they can’t even see. The older man, the leader, unlocks Joe’s cuffs only to pull him upright, pressing a knife against his neck, using Joe’s body as a human shield.

Joe rolls his eyes. If only this man knew how ineffective Joe would be at being a human shield. He watches with interest as the men stop firing, only for a knife to fly through the air and embed itself in one of the guard’s skulls. The others start firing again, but even though it's three against one, they’re no match for a furious Nicolo di Genova. Bursting into the room in a flurry of movement, Joe watches, fascinated–and more than a little turned on–as Nicky becomes a whirlwind, attacking violently with his longsword, cutting down the three men–with violent efficiency–who stand between him and Joe.

The older man presses his blade tighter against Joe’s neck, but Nicky doesn’t even blink. Joe stomps on the man’s foot, and Nicky puts a bullet in his brain, quick as you please. The knife cuts Joe as he moves, but it’s certainly not life-threatening, so he’s unconcerned.

Joe looked around the room, taking in the blood and guts and gore that decorate the white walls and floor and ceiling. “I told them that white was a bad choice, blood stands out far too much–” Nicky strides across the room, and kisses Joe hard, before he can get another word out. Joe grasps Nicky’s face with his blood covered hands, bringing him even closer, moaning as his beloved steals the breath from his lungs.

Nicky pulls away, but only just, his forehead resting against Joe’s. “Yusuf, amore mio, are you badly hurt?” His eyes rove over Joe’s face, checking for any and all injuries.

“No, habibi,” Joe sighs. “The marks those men left are quickly fading. I am alright.” Nicky kisses Joe again, uncaring of the fact that Joe’s lips still taste of blood.

They stand there for longer than they probably should, and when they finally part, Joe asks the question that had been pestering him since he first became aware of Nicky’s arrival. “How did you know so quickly, Nicolo? They’ve had me for less than an hour.”

The look on Nicky’s face is one of fond exasperation, one that Joe has been privy to many, many times. “You were being incurably romantic again, weren’t you?”

Joe grins, his eyes shining as he looks at his love. “They dared insult you in my presence, hayati. Besides, you love it.”

Nicky sighs. “I do.”

Joe cups his face once more and kisses him, pouring nine hundred years of love and affection and desire into the kiss. He would defend his Nicolo to the ends of the earth, against anyone and anything that dared try to come between them.

***

“I do not understand, Nile. Why do you keep referring to me as a cross between a human and an arachnid?”

“You have spidey sense Nicky, of course I’m going to call you Spiderman! Except instead of sensing danger, you sense whenever Joe’s delivering a love speech worthy of Shakespeare!”

“Hey! Do not compare me to that jumped-up English playwright–”

“Shut up, Joe!”

#The Old Guard #Joe x Nicky #Fluff #Not even really any angst #Like joe gets captured?#but he's not worried?#joe is an incurable romantic #nicky loves it #nile thinks it's fucking hilarious #writing #fics

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isitgintimeyet · 4 years ago

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Just a Friend

Hope you enjoy the next chapter of this story. Thanks to you all for reading this. You comments are lovely to read.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

AO3

Chapter 5: From Facebook to Friends

When I was a little girl, Uncle Lamb would sometimes take me into university with him. I would creep into the lecture theatre and sit at the back watching him as he enthused about Phoenician trade routes, or long gone military strategies. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but I loved it anyway. The passion he had for his subject matter thrilled me.

And once the lecture was over, I would join him in his office and we would squeeze together in an old armchair, drinking hot, sweet tea while he tried to explain the principles of a three thousand year old civilisation in words a seven year old would understand.

The armchair is now in my office at the hospital. It looks more than a bit incongruous amongst the standard NHS furniture. The rich green velvet fabric has faded to a shabby eau de nil colour and years of shuffling bottoms have left a large depression in the seat cushion. But I won’t have it reupholstered. I love it as it is. It’s a great reminder of my wonderful uncle. I sit in it and somehow it comforts me, like a soothing hug.

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

I glance at the clock as I walk into my office, paper cup of hot, sweet tea in hand, and head straight for Lamb’s chair. Gratefully, I sink into its depths and take a tentative sip of the steaming liquid before closing my eyes for a moment. The surgery was long; much longer than anticipated—having taken all morning and most of the afternoon, in fact. It had also been far more complicated—my original plans for keyhole surgery had to be changed, but, eventually, we completed the operation successfully. I’m always proud of my theatre team, but never more so than in situations like this.

And now, after hours of concentration, I feel in need of some light relief. I can go home, have a wonderfully reviving shower and then what? I know that Dougal is taking Geillis out for a meal tonight, so she’s not available. Mary and Anna are both working nights this week, so no joy there. Other friends live too far away for an impromptu midweek activity. I could go to the gym. I should go to the gym. Or… more likely, I’ll go home, have cheese on toast, a glass of wine and watch ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ for the fifteenth time instead.

I reach for my phone to check for messages. A notification for a Facebook friend request appears on my screen. I very rarely get new friend requests—other than the odd random gentleman hoping, I presume, to make some sort of connection. I always delete immediately.

And, yes, the request is from a gentleman—one Jamie Fraser. The profile picture is definitely Samsonite Jamie, even wearing the Scotland rugby shirt I fingered whilst foraging through his suitcase. I click accept. Why not? I don’t think I have anything too embarrassing on my posts. In fact, I don’t use it very often at all.

Neither, it seems, does Mr. Fraser. His cover photo shows a very youthful bunch of Scottish rugby supporters and his recent timeline seems to comprise mostly of being tagged in photos by Laoghaire Mackenzie. Is it my imagination, or does he have a resigned look on his face on each of their ‘selfies’?

My tea is cool enough to drink now without scalding my tongue. I put my phone down and take a large gulp whilst considering tomorrow’s workload. My job is a series of highs and lows. Today, for example, started as routine, slumped to a worrying low, before peaking at a very relieved high. Tomorrow appears to be an easier day, certainly—a review of patients’ case notes in the morning followed by an outpatient clinic in the afternoon. All follow up patients, and all doing well as far as I know, so tomorrow is shaping up to be a very good day.

I open up my phone again. Facebook messenger is encouraging me to ‘say hi to your new Facebook friend.’ Without thinking, I send a little waving hand emoji to Samsonite Jamie.

I have no sooner put the phone down than it pings. Waving hand returned. I smile. What are we… thirteen years old? Next I’ll be asking him out for an Irn Bru and a bag of chips.

Ping again.

You owe me…

Shit! The stain on his t-shirt, no doubt. I watch the dots on the screen. Perhaps he’s calculating the cost of a dry cleaner, or a new t-shirt.

You promised me an ice cream.

You up for buying one for me tonight?

I hesitate for a moment. I hope Jamie doesn’t think I’m after him or anything like that. I mean, he’s not really my type. As I’ve said before, I’ve always been attracted to academic, cerebral kind of men like Uncle Lamb, rather than Viking marauders.

And I’ve never subscribed to the idea that men and women can’t be friends. One of my closest friends at university was a man—Joe Abernathy. If it wasn't for the fact that he is currently three thousand miles away, working in Boston, I would be arranging platonic ice cream outings with him.

So, deciding I have nothing to lose, I type my response.

If you can get to the kiosk by 6:30, it should still be open

A brief pause, then the response.

Great. See you there?

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

Even at a distance, I recognise him sitting at a table next to the kiosk. No white t-shirt today, it looks like some sort of check lumberjack shirt. I breathe a sigh of relief. Not what I would call ‘first date’ clothing. Which is handy, seeing as I’m wearing ripped jeans and an oversized Aran jumper. I’m clean, presentable and fresh-smelling but definitely not dressed to impress.

He stands up when he sees me and greets me formally with a handshake. His hands are warm and dry—no nervous, sweaty palms here, which is another good sign. His shirt is blue, red and cream flannel and actually quite hideous.

“I hope this ice cream lives up tae ma expectations,” he says with the merest hint of challenge.

I crane my neck and look him straight in the eye. “No doubt at all. Cherry bakewell, is it? Double cone?”

“Aye. With a flake too. Compensation, ye ken.”

He stands aside to allow me to make the purchases. Before accepting the cone, he picks up half a dozen or so paper napkins and stuffs them in the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m prepared fer ye now. Do yer worst, Ms Beauchamp.”

I ignore his clear inference and follow him to a nearby bench.

“I can manage to eat and walk at the same time, you know,” I say in mock indignation.

“Hm,” he replies. “All the evidence sae far suggests the contrary. I need proof afore I believe it.”

There’s a moment of silence as we both focus on our ice creams. I lick neatly all the way around, trying to prevent any rogue drips trickling down the cone. Jamie pulls the flake from his cone and consumes it in two mouthfuls. He looks at me and laughs.

“Caught me. I’m a bit of a bugger fer chocolate,” he mumbles before swallowing.

“Right,” he continues, much more clearly now. “I suggest we get all the boring stuff out of the way. Ye ken, name, age, family, job, blah, blah blah. I’ll go first, if ye like.”

I nod my agreement.

“Sae, I’m James or Jamie Fraser. I’m thirty years old. Since our last conversation I am most definitely single. I live in Glasgow, obviously, but grew up on a farm near Inverness. My parents still run the farm. I have one sister, Jenny, who’s married tae Ian, my childhood friend. I have one nephew—a grand little lad known as Wee Jamie and a wee baby niece, Maggie . And I dinna think it’ll be long afore they’re joined by others. They all live here in Glasgow. My job, weel, I have a business—FraserFood—recipe boxes delivered tae yer door.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that. ‘From farm to fork.” That’s you, is it?”

He smiles proudly. “Aye, it’s me and ma family. Looks like ma marketing manager is doing a fine job, then.”

“Oh, forgot tae say, after the blah blah, ye have tae tell one confession. Only a wee one, mind.” He takes a large mouthful of his ice cream.

I purse my lips. “Really, and what if I’ve nothing to confess?”

Jamie snorts with laughter and does a funny sort of blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes. Is he trying to wink? If so, he’s failing miserably. I try to look angelic and sin free. Judging by the look of scepticism on his face, It doesn’t seem to be working.

“Sae, my confession is, dah-dah-daaaah,” he does a fake fanfare, trying to build suspense. “I wanted tae be yer friend on Facebook because I wanted tae see if there were any photos of ye in Barcelona, with all yer...er… accessories.”

I feel myself redden. I’ve just remembered catching Geillis on Facebook the other day at work and I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming next.

“Verra interesting… in particular, the one with ye and six penis shot glasses. How d’ye manage tae get two of them in yer mouth at the same time?”

I inwardly curse Geillis and her desire to live her life through social media.

“Excuse me,” I reply somewhat primly. “I don’t think we’re at the Q and A stage yet.”

“So,” I continue in a lighter tone. “Me. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I’m thirty two and I’m a paediatric orthopaedic surgeon, here at the children’s hospital. I love my job so much, I can’t begin to tell you. As of two weeks ago, I am thankfully single. I was born in Oxford and moved up here when I was twelve, when my Uncle Lamb became a professor at the university. He brought me up, you know. Raised me when my parents died in a car accident... I… er...I was four at the time.”

I can feel Jamie looking at me, but I can’t raise my eyes. Telling people about my parents never gets any easier, no matter how many times I say those words. I concentrate on picking bits of wafer off my cone and throwing them to the ducks loitering nearby, waiting for some sort of treat.

“So it always was just my uncle and me.” I carry on talking. “Then he died… seven...seven years ago…” I can hear my voice start to crack as I fight back tears. A hand creeps into my vision and I gratefully accept the proffered paper napkin and wipe my face.

“Och, lass.” He says softly.

I clear my throat. “I'm sorry. We were having a nice conversation and then there I go, getting all teary. It’s just, well, we were a team, Uncle Lamb and I… the two musketeers. He was my hero.”

Blowing my nose in a most unladylike way, I toss the napkin into the neighbouring bin.

“And that’s pretty much me. As for a confession, well… I suppose it’s kind of one.”

He raises one eyebrow quizzically, making a better job of that than the whole winking lark, I think.

"Ok, well, when I had your case, I tried to ring before I emailed you. I called the number in your case… twice. A woman answered and told me I had the wrong number—"

"Laoghaire."

"I know that now. But she obviously knew how to get onto your phone."

"Why did ye no' tell me?" He smiles as he says this. It's not a reprimand.

"I would have but you seemed to be coming to a conclusion anyway. No need to add more fuel to the fire."

"Happen ye're right."

He notices me shivering and gets to his feet. “Aye, there’s a bit of a chill. Fancy a wee walk tae warm up and we can carry on wi’ round two. It’s a quick fire round.”

I stand up and we move away from the pond. The ducks have already lost interest in us since they realise that we’ve nothing more to offer them. It’s pretty quiet in the park now, the cooler evening air seems to have kept people at home. The gravel crunching loudly under the soles of our shoes, I glance down and notice Jamie’s doing a sort of awkward stuttering movement with his feet. He’s clearly trying to match his stride pattern to mine. Which isn’t easy when his must be a good few inches longer than mine. Nice, considerate gesture, though.

“Sae, quick fire questions and answers. Ye can go first,” he says generously.

It only takes me a moment to think of a question that I have been wondering about ever since I explored the contents of his suitcase.

“What were you doing in Barcelona? I mean the contents of your case weren’t really fun-weekend-away stuff.”

“Nah, ye’re right. It wasna a holiday—flying visit only. I was there on business—talking tae a food wholesale company. Serrano ham, chorizo, saffron, that kind of thing,” he explains, a look of excitement on his face. “We’re expanding our range, starting with Spanish influenced recipes. A full three courses ready tae prepare, plus wine delivered straight tae yer door. Dinner party FraserFood style.”

He can’t stop smiling as he talks about these plans. And his hands move animatedly as he continues to elaborate on his new venture. His business is obviously his passion. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t got the desire for a relationship with a girlfriend—FraserFood seems to be his one love. No girl could compete.

He stops talking for a moment. “And here I am, boring ye.”

I shake my head. “Not at all, it’s really interesting.” I don’t have to lie. It’s the truth. My mouth is watering at his description of albondigas and flavoursome chicken and chorizo with cannellini beans. I’m ready to sign up for this delivery service any time.

“Sae, ma turn tae ask a question. Tell me, d’ye like this shirt?”

I try to stifle a laugh. The question is so unexpected and the shirt so awful. Trying to be diplomatic, I search for the right words, evading the actual question. “I’ve only seen you in white tops before, no colours.”

He sighs. “Ye’ve only seen me twice afore... anyway I dinna think ye need tae say any more. I ken ye’re being polite, but ye’re a terrible liar. I can tell by yer face ye dinna like this shirt. Laoghaire hated it, always made me change it. I did wonder if that was jes’ her being difficult. But apparently no’.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Ye dinna need tae apologise, Claire. Being honest is a good thing, is it no’? And friends should always tell each other the truth. And that’s what I think we’re going tae be, Claire— friends. D’ye no’ agree?”

I crane my neck and look Jamie straight in the eye. “Yes, I do… friends.”

#outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #Just a Friend #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Chapter 5

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jenanigans1207 · 4 years ago

Text

Castle of Cards [Renga]

I said I wasn’t gonna post this on here because formatting on Tumblr is so obnoxious now, but I figure I might as well. So here’s my fix-it fic to ep 9 (so, spoilers!) where Langa and Reki finally talk it out and Reki gets the gd hug he deserves!

-- x

Everyone is looking at him.

They’re looking and pointing, whispering words behind their hands. Some are even outright shouting congratulations to him, though he barely hears it. He may respond absently, he’s not honestly sure. His brain is too occupied with one thing and one thing only, leaving no space for any of this. Compared to what he’s dealing with currently, his win against Joe barely even exists in his mind right now— it’s certainly not something he would call important currently. The words Adam, Snow, and Eve follow him around, rippling in his wake as he makes his way through the crowd. The voices all blend together, background noise to him at most.

None of them are the voice he’s looking for, the voice he needs to hear.

None of them are Reki.

“Excuse me.” Langa’s at the gate now, and he’s not really sure why. But he’s looked everywhere else and he hasn’t been able to locate Reki, so he’s running out of options and feeling a little more desperate with each passing second, with each face he sees that still isn’t Reki’s.

“Oh, Snow.” The guard glances up at him, surprised. “That was an amazing race.”

“Thanks.” Langa says absentmindedly. He glances around one more time, but no faces jump out at him. “Have you seen a red headed guy? About my age?”

“Oh, yeah.” The guard nods, his gaze far away as if he’s remembering. “He left a little while ago.”

“Left?” Langa echoes, hollow inside. He can feel his heart pounding against his ribs like drums, can feel the way he’s only a few beats away from having his ribs crack open entirely, bleeding all of these emotions out for the world to see. “Is he coming back?”

“Well, considering the fact that he gave me this,” The guard digs around in his pocket for a moment before holding his hand out between them, an S pin catching the light in his palm. “I’m going to say no.”

For a moment, everything stops. It’s just Langa and the pin, staring at each other while Langa tries to make sense of what he’s seeing. Cold dread seeps into his veins, spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes. The pin glistens in the light, bright and beautiful, just like it had so many times when it had been attached to Reki’s collar. It had caught Langa’s eye so many times, been the thing he chose to stare at when he couldn’t stare directly at Reki any longer for fear of something stupid coming out of his mouth. He knew that pin almost as well as he knew Reki.

But no, it must’ve been some other red headed guy.

The pin must belong to someone else. There’s no way it’s Reki’s pin.

It was true that Reki and Langa weren’t on the best terms, but Reki would never give up his pass to S. Just the mere thought of it sits wrong in Langa’s chest, makes him feel a little sideways. He almost wants to laugh bitterly at himself for even considering it. He knows that Reki would never. If there was one fundamental thing about Reki that could never change, it was his love for all things skating— and that certainly included S. Langa remembers the first time Reki had told him about S, the way his whole face had lit up. He can still feel Reki’s hand on his shoulder as he’d shook Langa, insisting that Langa should be more excited for such an honor.

Reki would give up breathing before he would give up S. Langa was sure of it.

“Oh.” He finally says dumbly. “That must be someone else.”

“No,” The guard shakes his head, seemingly unaware of the turmoil slowly starting to stir in Langa’s stomach, unaware of the ice in his heart, chilling him to the bone. “It was definitely that guy you usually show up with. Took me a minute to recognize him without that headband, but it was definitely him.”

It feels like the entire world is ripped out from underneath Langa’s feet.

Suddenly he’s free falling, plummeting towards some dark future that he wants nothing to do with and there doesn’t seem to be a way to slow it down. Suddenly he’s a million miles from Reki, on the other side of a divide he had unknowingly dug. Everything he knew seemed to be flipped on its head, the chilling realization that he didn’t know Reki as well as he thought— that he had hurt Reki far deeper than he’d realized— was freezing him to his spot. Everything he believed in, everything he held close to his heart, every touch, glance, smile— all of it, stripped away from him.

Langa stares at the pin like it might tell him that this is some practical joke, that Reki is just trying to teach him a lesson. Dear God, he’ll learn the lesson. He’ll do anything if it gets Reki to come back.

Because Reki had been here. He’d been here, despite the fact that he’d been avoiding Langa and insisting that he didn’t want anything to do with this tournament. He’d been here and he’d cheered Langa on, because he was Reki and that meant he was incapable of not being there for the people that mattered to him. Even lost in thought as he’d been, Langa had recognized Reki’s voice instantly. He’d always recognize Reki’s voice— he’d recognize anything about Reki. His voice, his laugh, his footfalls, even the sound of his ragged breathing after an afternoon practicing a new trick— Langa was in tune with all things Reki.

Or, he had thought that he was. He’d thought that he knew Reki better than anyone else but suddenly he’s staring down at Reki’s most prized possession, Reki nowhere to be found, feeling his heart crack open in his chest. Somewhere things went wrong, they got off track and suddenly fell out of step with each other. All this time, Langa had been looking to Reki to lead him, to show him what was next, to step into another adventure at his side. All this time it had been them . But now it was just him . And even though he was in the center of a crowd that kept repeating his name, Langa had never felt more alone.

“Can I take that?” Langa asks after a silence that has stretched so long it has become awkward. “He’s just having a bad day. He’ll want it back when he’s feeling better.”

The words don’t sound quite right and they taste a little bitter on his tongue, as if the words themselves know that they’re a lie, but Langa ignores that. He wills it to be the truth, to give him some hope to cling to. He needs that right now. Because if he doesn’t at least have hope that he’ll be able to get Reki back, he has absolutely nothing . Not even the board Reki made him, not anymore.

The guard shrugs and deposits the pin in Langa’s hand. It’s cold to the touch but still something inside of him burns. “Technically I should say no, but I’ve seen him around here for years. I know he’s a good kid. So, go for it.”

Someone arrives at the gate then and the guard bids Langa farewell, unaware of just how much his words sting. He’s seen Reki around here for years— yeah, that sounds like Reki. The Reki that Langa knows, the Reki he had been thinking about at dinner with his mom a few days ago when he first mentioned that Reki was avoiding him. That sounded like the Reki that shined brighter than the sun and dragged Langa out of the dark hole that his life had become.

Because Langa had moved here with nothing but his mom. He’d lost his dad, he’d given up snowboarding and then lost the possibility of picking it back up. He’d moved here without knowing a single soul outside of his family and he’d assumed that his life would just remain bleak and boring for— well, indefinitely, really. And then Reki had come dashing down the street, arm bandaged, yelling for Langa to catch his board before it got away and everything had changed. Langa’s fingers had closed around the board, he’d turned to meet Reki’s gaze and the entire trajectory of his future had shifted in that exact moment. He was completely sure of it— that was the moment that everything in his life had changed. That was the moment he found a purpose again. And more than that, he’d found someone to share it with.

Langa shoves the pin deep in his pocket because he can’t bear to look at it any longer. It’s bad enough that he has to carry around the splintered halves of his skateboard, he didn’t need another reminder staring back at him.

Something was happening in the distance, Langa didn’t really know what, he wasn’t paying attention. All he knew was that the crowd seemed to have finally moved on from talking about him and he was grateful for the peace because right now he wanted to be with Reki. And if he couldn’t be with Reki, he wanted to be alone.

-- x

He’s careless as he rips the posters off of his wall, tearing them irreparably down the middle.

Not that it matters.

Not that anything matters.

Reki doesn’t turn his bedroom light on as he shreds the posters in his hands, throwing crumpled bits of them on the ground. What’s the point in having his room decorated in skating memorabilia if he wasn’t going to be skating anymore? Because that was really the only option that he could see, that’s what today had made clear to him.

He didn’t want to be standing in the crowd, watching Langa reach new heights. He didn’t want to see Langa’s back . He wanted to be by Langa’s side, in the center of his circle. He wanted to be in Langa’s heart . But Langa was out of reach now— too high in the sky, surrounded by too many adoring fans, up on a pedestal that Reki could never climb, no matter how hard he tried. He wanted to skate, but he wanted to skate with Langa. And since that goal was officially unreachable, well, he didn’t see the point in skating at all.

What fun was there left in it when he would always have an empty place by his side? Where was he supposed to find the joy when he didn’t have Langa there to cheer him on, to clap him on the shoulder or high five him in congratulation when Reki finally landed a trick he’d been practicing? What enjoyment was left for him if he was just going to be eating lunch alone in the middle of the day, a million thoughts on his mind and nobody to share them with?

Because the truth that he’d been trying to avoid for the last few weeks was that he absolutely couldn’t find someone else to share this with. Not the way he shared it with Langa, anyways. There was never going to be someone else that he had that connection with, someone else who walked into his life and just stayed like it was the only place they could possibly imagine being. He hadn’t known it when Langa had introduced himself to their class that first day, but Langa was a missing piece to Reki’s heart, something to complete him and make him feel whole again. Langa challenged him and took him to new heights and for the longest time, Reki had thought that Langa would wait for him, that he wouldn’t try to hit a new level until Reki met him on the one he was at.

Because for a while, it had been okay that Langa was naturally talented and unbelievably amazing because he stayed in stride with Reki. It had been okay that Langa could fly higher than Reki, because it gave Reki something to strive for, a goal to reach. And the whole time, Langa stayed there, encouraging him and cheering him on, laughing with him and offering a hand to hoist him up from the ground when he fell. It was okay that Langa was ahead because he was still there — bright and beautiful, always within Reki’s reach.

He wasn’t within Reki’s reach anymore.

But there was something about Langa, something about the way he fit perfectly into the cracks of Reki’s heart that made Reki absolutely certain that he couldn’t share his passion with anyone else the same way. He’d always have a hollow spot throbbing in his heart whenever he touched a skateboard. That was the real reason he hadn’t skated since their fight. Every time he touched his board, he just felt the ache of loneliness that came with Langa’s absence. Somewhere along the way skating had stopped being his thing and instead had become their thing. But since there was no longer a them , Reki didn’t feel like he could find a home inside skating again.

And that hurt more than Reki had thought anything could.

In the matter of a few weeks he had lost his best friend and his passion, and they weren’t even stolen from him. Langa had willingly walked away, had known that he was breaking his promise to Reki and had chosen to go along with it anyways. Langa had given up on Reki and now Reki was left with no choice but to give up on skating. Because the idea of giving up on Langa hurt even worse, somehow, and a small piece of his shattered heart harbored hope that Langa would come back.

Reki sinks down to the floor, curling in on himself and pressing his forehead against the wall, torn skating posters grasped loosely in his palms.

All this time he had felt like he and Langa were creating a castle together, a place to rule over their shared passion. But now that Reki was alone— well and truly alone, not even the presence of his S badge to keep him company— he realized that it was nothing more than a Castle of Cards and it was collapsing around him.

-- x

The problem with doing the right thing is that right now, Langa doesn’t know what the right thing is.

He had been trying to give Reki the space he seemed like he wanted the last few weeks, trying to stay within Reki’s orbit without forcing Reki to interact with him if he didn’t want. But that hadn’t worked because suddenly Reki seemed even further away than he had before. But if Reki really didn’t want to talk to him— and that certainly seemed to be the case— Langa didn’t want to corner him.

He looks down at the broken board in his hands and thinks that it’s the perfect representation of everything Reki in his life right now— shattered completely and something Langa has no idea how to handle.

Words have never been his forte. And it’s true that Reki is usually able to read between the lines or connect the dots to Langa’s point if he mixes some of his thoughts together, but this isn’t the kind of thing he wants Reki to have to parse. This is something he needs to say to Reki, clearly and succinctly because anything else risks him losing Reki forever.

And if he loses Reki forever— he loses skating forever, too. Because he can’t skate without Reki there, cheering him on. He doesn’t find joy in it unless he has Reki, that much has become abundantly clear in his last few trips to S.

That, he knows, is the whole problem. It took him too long to realize that the thing he was chasing had in fact been next to him the entire time. It took him too long to realize that the feeling he was addicted to wasn’t the feeling of going fast, but instead the feeling of Reki’s belief in him, the warmth of Reki’s friendship and unwavering support. The thing he had gotten so lost in was Reki, not skateboarding, and he didn’t make that connection until it was too late.

And Reki— Reki was really good at keeping a straight face, at pretending he was okay when he wasn’t. Because Langa had been blind sided by Reki walking out of his life. He’d had maybe one hint that Reki wasn’t feeling himself and then suddenly the bridge between them was on fire and Langa didn’t have any water with him. He’d been forced to stand there as it charred to bits and now— now he had to find some other way across that gap. Because now he knew that it was Reki he needed, Reki he wanted. He knew it was Reki that meant more to him than anything else in his life ever had and he wasn’t going to let Reki go.

Slowly, and with far more effort than it should actually take, Langa peels himself off the ground. S had ended hours ago and everyone had scattered, but Langa hadn’t felt like going home. The sun was starting to rise over the horizon, just the tiniest hints of pink and yellow starting to paint the inky black sky. Another day dawning— another day without Reki if Langa didn’t do something. Another day of the thing he wants most slipping through his fingers.

With equal amounts of determination and fear, Langa takes off towards Reki’s house. He has no idea what he’s going to say, no idea what he’s going to do , but he can’t just sit around and do nothing anymore. He grips Reki’s S pin in one hand, clutching his broken board to his side with the other as he treads the familiar path to Reki’s house. He could walk there with his eyes closed if he wanted to, he’d been here so many times. It was like his feet knew the path on their own, like even lacking courage couldn’t stop him from going there because every fiber of who he was longed to see Reki, to be near him again. Every single cell in his body was screaming at him to get to Reki before it was too late and Reki was gone completely.

He rounded the last corner and came to a complete stop as he stumbled into Reki’s front yard, surprised to see Reki sitting on the front porch so early in the morning.

“Reki?”

Reki’s head whips up and he squints at Langa, the sun from behind Langa no doubt blinding him. “Langa? What are you doing?”

A lot of different thoughts swirl in Langa’s mind, the weight of both the pin and the board heavy in his hands as he tries to figure out where to start. Reki stares at him, still in the same hoodie he’d worn at S, his headband gone. His hair was longer than Langa had realized as it fell down around his face, framing his eyes and the unbearably sad expression on his face. He looked the way Langa’s heart feels— empty and void of any passion. The first thing Langa considers is just dropping everything and pulling Reki into a hug, but he’s not sure Reki would receive that willingly and he really doesn’t think he’d be able to handle Reki pushing him away.

“I—“ Langa glances down at his feet, at the board in his hand, the scrapes along his arms from when the board had broken and he’d fallen. If only this was as easy as a simple cut, if only this would heal with just a little time and tending to.

“What happened?” Reki asks and when Langa glances up at him, he sees Reki’s gaze focused on his board. There’s a sharp downturn at the corner of his mouth and Langa can’t tell if Reki is mad that he broke the board or not.

“Oh, it—“ Langa glances at the board, too. The board that Reki had made for him, the one that Reki had poured time and effort into. The board that allowed him to reach the heights he can now reach. “It snapped right after I crossed the finish line with Joe. I’m sorry, Reki, I didn’t mean to—“

Reki sighs and it sounds like he’s pulling the weight of it from the very depths of his bones. Langa worries for a moment that he’s going to collapse in on himself when he exhales because it sounds like he’s letting go of everything he is. “You need me to fix it for you?”

That startles Langa. Sure, when his board had first broken and Joe had suggested that he go back to Reki to fix it, Langa had assumed that Reki would. But something about finding out Reki had turned in his S pin had changed everything. If Langa’d had to guess before he got here how he thought Reki would react, he would’ve said that Reki would’ve staunchly refused to fix his board for him and shown him the door. It didn’t sound anything like Reki but then again, neither did giving up S and Reki had apparently done that.

“You would?”

Reki raises one shoulder in what Langa assumes is meant to be a shrug. “You can’t beat Adam otherwise.”

Each word is a knife straight to Langa’s heart and somehow, completely despite himself, he drops the board to the ground at his feet, his arm going limp. “Reki…”

Finally, Reki stands up from the porch and closes the distance between them. And even though he’s technically getting closer with every step he takes, Langa feels like Reki is being pulled further and further away from him. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To beat Adam? You’ll need a board to do that.”

Slowly, and with far more care than it deserves, Reki picks the shattered pieces of the board up off of the ground. He stands up, just a few feet away from Langa, close enough that Langa could reach out and touch him if he wanted to— and Langa wants to. God he’s not sure he’s ever wanted something more in his life. He wants to touch Reki, to feel that Reki is really there, that Reki is real and beside him again, right where he belongs.

Because all along, it’s been Reki reaching out to Langa. It’s been Reki throwing his arm around Langa’s shoulders, pulling Langa close in celebration. It’s been Reki holding onto Langa, holding Langa together, dragging Langa forward. And then— and then the one time he’d reached for Reki first, Reki had shaken off his touch and left him standing under a street lamp in the rain.

And Langa really wants to reach for Reki, but he’s paralyzed by fear that Reki will shake him off again.

Pain courses through his body with every beat of his heart and suddenly Langa feels like he’s losing control. The unbearable agony of being this close to Reki and not being able to have him, to hold him, breaks Langa apart completely. “Why did you turn in your badge?”

Reki hears him, Langa knows he does. Because Reki has always heard him, has always been listening for him in the midst of everything. There’s never been anything that Langa has said that Reki hasn’t heard. But Reki ignores him. “I’m probably going to have to start from scratch.” He says instead, his gaze studiously focused on the board. But Langa sees the tight line of his jaw. “I don’t think I can repair this.”

“Reki—“

“Don’t worry,” Reki reassures even though they both know that Reki’s doing nothing but dodging the issue at hand. “I can have it done by the time you have your beef with Adam. I’ve already made it once so I know what it needs. Just give me a day or two.”

And then Reki turns to walk towards his garage as if he’s going to get started right away. Reki turns to walk towards his garage, away from Langa.

“Reki!” Completely out of his control, Langa’s hand shoots out and grabs Reki around the wrist, holding him in place. He holds as tightly as he can without hurting Reki, determined to not let him get away this time. “Reki, talk to me .”

Reki’s head is bowed and his shoulders are shaking and every already. Broken piece of Langa’s heart somehow manages to break further. “What do you want me to say, Langa?”

With a gentle tug, Langa turns Reki around so they’re facing each other again. He pulls Reki’s hand forward until it’s open in front of him and then he presses Reki’s S pin into his palm, staring with so much intensity it’s almost unbearable because Reki still won’t look at him. His fingers curl under Langa’s, wrapping around the pin as he scoffs, turning his head to the side.

“Why?” Langa presses, his hand still firm around Reki’s wrist. “Reki, why?”

When Reki finally raises his head, his eyes watery at the edges, Langa thinks he might just crumble completely, become a pile of broken dreams at Reki’s feet, waiting for a gentle wind to blow him away. “What purpose do I have there, Langa? I can’t keep up with everyone. I’m not—“ The words seem to lodge in Reki’s throat but he refuses to turn his burning gaze away this time. “I’m not good enough. There’s nothing there for me.”

“I’m there for you.” Langa replies with as much ferocity as he can manage. It sounds feeble, broken, like it’s two seconds away from collapsing entirely. “I’m there for you, Reki.”

“You’re there for Adam.” Reki practically spits Adam’s name, like it tastes bad on his tongue, like he can’t wait to get it away from him. Langa had known that Reki hated Adam, that Adam scared him and seemed dangerous but this— these emotions swirling around Reki’s words, hiding in the depths of his eyes— this was something more than that.

And this is it— the breaking point. This is the moment where Langa can either make or break everything they have between them. Every late night, every early morning, every band aid Reki has carefully put over his wounds have led to this moment. All the knowledge he has of Reki culminates to right now when he has to figure out exactly the right thing to say, has to figure out how to tell Reki what it is that he really feels. His mom had told him to just be honest with his feelings, but that was easier said than done. At the time he’d thought it would be embarrassing but now he’d willingly take embarrassment if it meant Reki would smile again.

How long has it been since he’s seen Reki smile? He feels like he’s being suffocated without it, like the happiness is slowly being drained away from him.

“I thought I was,” Langa begins and he sees Reki flinch away from him, sees the moment Reki tries to build those final walls between them. Holding Reki’s wrist the tiniest bit tighter, Langa rushes on, “But I was wrong. Reki I— I thought it was skating against Adam that made my heart race. I thought it was the speed. But it wasn’t.” Langa shakes his head and a few strands of hair fall into his eyes. This isn’t going how he wants it to, the words are getting all muddled in his head, lost somewhere between his mind and his tongue. “That’s— it’s not—“ He sighs.

But Reki is looking up at him again, his eyes wide and his mouth open like there’s a question poised on the tip of his tongue. There’s the tiniest flicker of hope, a small flame that needs fanning in Reki’s expression. “What?”

“These last few weeks, when you haven’t been there it hasn’t— it hasn’t felt the same.” Langa takes a deep breath and finally lets go of Reki. If he’s going to leave, at least he will have heard Langa out. That’s the most he can ask for. “It hasn’t been fun or exciting. Nothing about it has felt like it did before. Even when I was racing Joe earlier it didn’t— it didn’t mean anything to me until you cheered for me.”

“But…” Reki ducks his head and Langa swallows around the lump forming in his throat. “But you’re so talented.”

“So are you.”

“Not— not like you.” Reki’s loose hair falls even closer around his face as he shakes his head and Langa’s hands long to reach out and brush it away from his eyes.

“Reki, I can only skate because of you.” Carefully, Langa reaches out to place a hand gently on Reki’s shoulder. When Reki doesn’t shy away from the contact, a small piece of his heart repairs. “You taught me how to skate, you made me a board that I could use. All of my skating is thanks to you.”

And that, if nothing else, is the absolute truth.

“But—“

“I want to skate with you, Reki.” Langa emphasizes, the last truths rising to the light. If he’s going to do this, he might as well do it all the way. “I want it to be with you, not Adam. I don’t care about facing Adam if you’re not there with me. And I’m sorry that I made you think otherwise, I’m sorry that it took me so long to figure that out but— it’s not good if it’s not you, Reki.”

The silence that follows lasts long enough to become painful. The sun is rising behind him and the edges of Reki’s hair catch like fire in the sun, glowing and warm. He looks beautiful as he glances back up at Langa, those eyes watery again but full of so much emotion that Langa can finally recognize again.

“I want to skate with you, too, Langa.” Reki says finally, each word a balm on Langa’s battered soul.

“You do?”

“I thought— You were leaving me behind and you’re so much more talented than I am— I was afraid—“

Without any hesitation, Langa tugs Reki forward, throwing his other arm around Reki and clutching him against his chest. Reki drops the broken board somewhere along the way, his own arms wrapping around Langa as he buries his face in Langa’s shoulder, the edges of his hair brushing Langa’s jaw. And just like that, in one swift moment, Langa feels like he can see the light again.

-- x

Reki can feel his S pin, warm against his palm as he fists his hands in the back of Langa’s shirt. He can feel his S pin and Langa both pressed against him, holding his jagged edges together and he can’t help but think that this is exactly how it’s supposed to be. Because Langa may have left him behind for a little while, but he’d come back for Reki. He’d come back and gathered Reki’s broken edges, piecing him back together. He hadn’t given up on Reki even when Reki had given up on himself.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” Langa mumbles into the top of his head, his hands tight around Reki’s back, “I’m sorry, Reki. Please don’t give up skating. Please don’t leave me there alone.”

And that plea is everything Reki wanted to hear. It was everything Reki needed to know— that Langa still wanted to share this with him, that Langa would give up on his idiotic idea to go up against Adam. It was everything Reki wanted, but he knew he couldn’t take it, not like that. Because there was more that Langa wanted and if Reki accepted the apology, if Reki promised to come back to skating and to go back to how things had been, he’d be taking some of those things away from Langa. And no matter how hurt he’d been, he never wanted to take anything away from Langa, that was why he’d left. Because he wanted Langa to have everything he could ever want without feeling like Reki was holding him back.

And now Langa was here, offering to give it all up for Reki and Reki knew that he couldn’t let him do that.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Reki replies instead. He doesn’t love it, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. He knows that Langa needs this, that he needs this if they’re really going to put this behind them. “I’ll come back to S, but only to watch you kick Adam’s ass.”

“Reki?” Langa pulls away enough to look at Reki’s face, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

Reki pulls away completely, stepping back and over the broken board so that it fills the space between them again. “Someone has to beat him.”

“So let someone else do it.” Langa takes a step closer, his toes nearly brushing the board. “Not me.”

Reki shakes his head, reaching up to brush some of the longer pieces of his hair back. “It has to be you, Langa.”

And they both know that’s true, Adam won’t rest until he skates against Langa again. Adam has made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t consider anyone other than Langa a proper opponent. If someone is going to take Adam off of his high horse, it has to be Langa, whether Reki likes it or not. He doesn’t like it, not even a little bit, but Langa came back to him, Langa offered to give racing Adam up entirely. Reki has to just trust him now, to stand by his side while he races Adam, holding his breath and cheering loudly, And when it’s all over, all he can do is hope that Langa finds his way back to his side again.

Because just keeping Langa away from Adam wouldn’t be enough. Reki would always be haunted with the question, would always wonder if Langa was satisfied, if he was happy to just skate with Reki at their own pace. He needed to know, to be absolutely certain that he was the one Langa chose.

“I won’t do it.” The amount of conviction in Langa’s voice tells Reki that it’s going to be alright.

“C’mon,” Reki bends down to pick up the broken board between them. “Let’s go get started on your new board. We can figure out the rest from there.”

“Reki, I won’t— I don’t want to—“

“Yes you do.” Reki cuts in but he’s surprised to find that he’s not mad anymore. He’s not even hurt, he’s mostly just afraid. But he’s choosing to put all of his faith in Langa because so far, Langa hasn’t actually let him down. The fact that Langa is standing here in front of him at the first signs of dawn, while the rest of the world is completely asleep tells Reki that Langa hasn’t let him down yet and isn’t going to start now. “And I’ll be there when you do, okay? You know I hate him, I’ll take pleasure in watching you defeat him.”

Langa hesitates, “And if I do this, what then?”

And that answer comes to Reki surprisingly easily. “Then you’ll be the king of S. And I’ll be the one to knock you off your throne.”

The smile that spreads over Langa’s face is slow to come, but no less warm than all the ones Reki has seen in the past. “Is that a promise?”

“Yeah.” Reki says, holding a hand up in front of him. “It is.”

When Langa responds in kind, giving Reki their signature high five and fist bump combo, Reki realizes that maybe their castle wasn’t made out of cards after all. Maybe Langa wasn’t the only one who had gotten lost along the way. Because suddenly, it feels like there’s some solid foundation under his feet again. He takes off towards the garage, Langa in tow and he knows with absolute certainty that neither Adam nor the fear Reki feels in the face of him is strong enough to actually break them apart.

And when Langa kicks Adam’s ass and comes back to Reki to celebrate, well Reki might have a few other things he needs to tell him then. But for now, he relishes the feeling of his heart patching itself back together as Langa settles onto his normal stool in the garage, propping his head in his hand as Reki selects a new piece of wood to begin working with.

Everything may not be okay quite yet, Reki might still have some lingering fears and doubts, but he has Langa by his side again and he knows with Langa there, he’ll be able to overcome any of those things. Everything may not be okay quite yet, but Reki knows that soon it’s going to be okay again.

#renga #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #sk8 spoilers #sk8 the infinity spoilers #sk8 fic #reki gets the hug he deserves #I just needed something last week #after the pain of that episode #so I wrote the reconciliation we needed

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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82, Sternclay, NSFW if possible? Ty so much for all your great fics <3 -☀️

You’re welcome! I hope you enjoy the fill. It’s NSFW, and involves mating cycles, because my A03 stats suggest a lot of y’all like that.

82. you knock on my door at 2 in the morning because your very white cat got out and you need help trying to find them in the three feet of snow we have

He has no one but himself to blame.

Stern is always so careful about shutting the doors in this cabin, as the old hinges and worn frames can send them swinging open when coupled with a strong wind. He thought he had that same care when he came in with more firewood from the basement, which can only be accessed through by going out of the house and then down to the locked door.

Apparently not. At one, he went to check on Yeti and found the back door open and the faintest shape of feline paws leading into the darkness.

They’ve got two feet of snow on the ground, with another foot forecasted to fall by morning. And Yeti is sleek and snow-white.

He’s wandered the perimeter of the house, left her favorite blanket out on the covered porch, and tried in vain to follow the tracks, filled in by the falling snow. He’s been outside for an hour now, with no sign of her. Not even the jingle of her collar in the cold air. He’s shivering, but he can’t stop the search; Yeti is out here, cold and scared and it’s all his fault.

As he’s crunching through the snow, warm light spills onto the trees. His neighbors (a loose term out here) house. He couldn’t stand waking Barclay up to help him, but if he’s already awake…

Stern raps on the door, and four seconds later it opens, his neighbor looking like a lumberjack centerfold given life, even in his sweatpants and brown sweater.

“Joe? Is something wrong?”

“It’s Yeti, she got out without me noticing and I can’t find her, I’ve been out here an hour and there’s no sign. I, um, I know it’s a stretch but can you help me look for her? We can cover more ground that way.”

Barclay gives a small, worried smile as he nods, “Yeah, of course, lemme get enough on so that I don’t freeze and I’ll join you.”

He waves Stern inside, passes him a box of tissues before disappearing upstairs. Here he’d hoped the tears from his brief panic and self-blame spiral hadn’t left evidence. He’s good in a crisis, has handled much more stressful incidents with grace and calm. But for some reason every time he musters up those emotions, gult rips them to shreds. Yeti is his to look after, he’s supposed to keep her safe, and one careless move has her out in the woods, in freezing weather, with predators, or thin ice, or, or, or-

His brain is excellent at generating contingency plans on the fly, but tonight it directs that ability to making him think about all the bad things his error could cause.

“Okay, got my headlamp so I can keep my hands free. You got a light?”

Joe holds up his flashlight.

“C’mon, let’s go find the Yeti.” They set off side by side in the snow, “where do you want to look?”

“Fan out near the creek, I think. The snow isn’t as deep there, so she might have gone that way because it was easier to move.”

“She’s a climber, right? So how about this; we go on either side of the creek, you look on the ground and I’ll look in the trees?”

“That makes sense.”

It’s slow going, both of them being meticulous, shining their lights on every branch or under every bush. Stern’s always appreciated how careful Barclay is; he assumes it comes with a profession where being messy slows you down, but the first time he saw his well-organized kitchen his heart did a little dance of delight.

In the month and a half he’s lived here, the cook invites him over at least twice a week to try out a recipe. He works at Amnesty Lodge in the nearby town of Kepler, and spends some of his nights there. Still, he’s at his cabin often enough that Stern’s been able to invite him over some evenings. Though it’s odd he’s up so late on a work night.

“Do you not have to go in tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m taking this week off. I have some vacation time and when I get back it’ll be the holiday break rush until New Years. I got caught up in the latest Agent X novel and didn’t see how late it was until you knocked. How about you, staying up researching again?”

“Yes. I was trying to keep the fire going because it’s nice to work in that little living room but, um, going out to get the wood is how she got out. If I’d just gone to bed-”

“Whoah, hey, none of that.” Barclay stops, turning to face him, “shit happens, even when you’re careful. This isn’t your fault, Joe.”

“I know. It still feels that way.” He starts forward again, feet freezing in spite of his snowboots (chosen for optimal weight to insulation ratio). Part of him wants to keep talking, because Barclay is interesting to talk to, his years playing “Lodge dad” giving him endless anecdotes and the ability to be honest without being cruel.

It helps that his baritone voice makes Stern think of brown sugar; rich, complex, just the right kind of sweet.

After a solid hour of searching, Stern is so cold he’s having trouble getting words out. Barclay sets a big hand on his shoulder, guiding them towards Sterns cabin.

“Joe, you’ve gotta take a break. Worried your lips are gonna go as blue as your eyes, and then tonight will really suck.”

“But I haven’t found her.”

“And you won’t if you freeze to death or get so chilled you can’t think straight. At least sleep for a few hours.”

Stern’s about to protest as they reach the door, but then his knees buckle and he slumps against a broad chest.

“I’ll do one more spin into the deeper woods on my way home, and leave some blankets out on the porch in case she makes her way to me. She’s smart, just like her owner; I think she’ll get home okay.”

“Right. Okay. We’ll be okay.”

Barclay hesitates mid motion, then pulls Stern into a hug. Stern is not small, and at Six feet zero inches he’s used to being the tallest person in a room. Barclay always feels like he’s dwarfing him, though right now that’s the most comforting sensation in the world.

“I’ll check by in the morning.”

“Thank you, for everything.” He mumbles into Barclay’s scarf.

“Any time, Joe.”

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

Barclay waits until Joe is inside and the upstairs light switches on to leave the back porch. God, it’s so fucking cold tonight. He doesn’t blame Yeti for getting curious, but she could’ve picked a less awful time to do it.

He’s glad the other man came to him for help; he hates the idea of Joe out here alone and stressed, searching carefully and kicking himself the whole time. He’s glad Joe took the suggestion to sleep.

He’s glad the other man came to be his neighbor.

Ironically, they’d met when Joe came over and asked to borrow a cup of sugar. The dark-haired man was short on what he needed to cook, and Barclay was happy to supply it. It’s not everyday a cute guy asked him for some sugar.

They ran across each other in town, and Joe even came to eat at the Lodge, usually at off hours where Barclay had a chance to talk. That’s how he learned Joe was here to research a recent Bigfoot sighting.

“I used to be in the FBI, investigating the same thing. Then I got so frustrated, no one really believed in the possibility of unknown creatures, and the few who did saw them as having some sort of use to the department of defense. Great idea, find something so rare it’s existence is unproven, and then lock it away or blow it up.” The sip of coffee is more aggressive than usual.

“Won’t they get mad if you spill their secrets?” It was only half a joke.

“I doubt it. They weren’t too interested in my theories when I worked there; odds are they’ll keep an eye on me a little while and then ignore me. Unless I find Bigfoot, of course, in which case they may want me back. I’m not interested, from now on I monster hunt in the name of science.”

Barclay hopes Stern never finds Bigfoot and stays in his cabin, writing and researching and consulting and coming over to Barclay’s for dinner twice a week. He has a whole menu in his mind titled, “foods for seducing Joe” that he’s going to whip out in the next few weeks, he swears it.

He’s been swearing it for two weeks.

Joe is sophisticated, smart, has really good taste in books and food, and Barclay feels so listened to when they talk. Barclay starts blushing whenever Joe smiles at him, which would be embarrassing except Joe does the same thing whenever Barclay drops his voice a little. Besides, he likes it when Joe smiles.

Barclay would give anything to make Joe smile tonight. Which is why he’s tromping into the spot where they lost the last of Yeti’s footprints. He stands, listening for any sign of human life.

Then he slips the woven bracelet off his hand, and his foot-prints almost double in size.

It’s a bad idea, he’s not all that far from other houses or the road, but in this form his sense of smell is twice as strong and his night-vision a bit sharper. It’s also the reason he’s taking this week off work. Yes, he likes to rest up before the winter rush; but his heat, which comes ever fourteen years, is due in the next few days. He’s actually a little worried turning into his Sylph self will make his brain fuzzy enough to forget his mission. So he reminds himself, as he tromps through the growing blizzard, that he is doing this for the person he’d most like to impress in this world, and that does the trick.

A whiff of the same, non-human scent he stole a noseful of when hugging Joe catches his attention. He follows it to a disused burrow, gets down on his belly, and finds reflective eyes blinking back at him.

The animal hisses.

“Man, please be Yeti and not a bobcat. Duck’s gonna fucking kill me if I harass the wildlife.” He reaches into the burrow and hears a telltale jingle. Yeti, surrendering to her fate, goes limp in his hold. When he puts her against his chest she chirps, curiously sniffing him. As soon as the bracelet is on she blinks once, then purrs as he bundles her into his coat. She’s cold and damp, but she’s in one piece.

“C’mon cousin, let’s get you home.”

The lights are all still one, and the front door is wedged open the exact amount a cat would need to get inside. He steps in, kicks the wedge free and shuts the door. The fire is low, and there’s no sound of anyone moving around.

“Joe? Whoa, careful Yeti, I know you wanna get warm but we should show him your okay.”

“Mew!” Yeti bites the fringe of his scarf.

He tries again, “Joe, you still up? Got someone for you?”

A scuff and groan from the kitchen, “Huh? Oh, shit, I fell asleep, one second”

Yeti shifts her focus while Barclay is distracted. In one graceful leap she rips his bracelet away, lands, and bounds to the kitchen.

“Yeti! Thank the lord, there you are my little cryptid, I was so worried about you, don’t ever do that again, thank god you’re okay.” Joe’s voice goes muffled, as if he’s holding the cat to his face and talking into her fur. Barclay is frozen, not wanting to be seen but even less wanting to have Joe spot Bigfoot dashing into the trees.

“What do you have--Yeti, it’s rude to take things from the man who saved you from being-” Joe rounds the corner, cat in his arms, and gasps. Yeti, uninterested in the unfolding drama, tumps to the floor and scampers upstairs. Joe’s hands fly over his mouth the instant she’s no longer in them.

“Hey” Barclay waves.

“What the fuck?”

“I’m, uh, I’m Bigfoot.”

“What the fuck?” Joe isn’t moving, and Barclay decides now is his best chance.

“I’m just, uh, gonna go get my bracelet back.”

“No, you’re going to explain everything.”

“I really, really can’t, some of it isn’t mine to explain. I mean, uh, I can explain some bits later-” He creeps toward the stairs. Joe steps in front of him.

“Barclay, this can’t wait. You, you’ve been him the whole time, my entire world view is simultaneously being proven and flipped over, would you please just talk to me?”

“Mew?” Yeti is halfway down the stairs, watching them with the bracelet still in her mouth. Without breaking eye contact, Joe reaches up and out, plucking it from her teeth.

“You’re not getting this back until you explain.”

“Babe, please, I promise we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No, wait, what did you call me?”

“Uhhhh” Barclay lunges for the bracelet instead of answering. Stern twists out of the way, sprinting for the kitchen. Barclay gets an arm around his waist and yanks backwards, sending them both over the back of the couch. Joe elbows him and scrambles up. Barclay only just manages to block him from going up the stairs, stalks him back onto the rug and tackles him. It succeeds in bringing the man down and keeping him pinned.

It also sends the bracelet flying onto the floor, where Yeti snatches it up and disappears up the staircase.

Barclay realizes he’s growling, stops so that he won’t frighten Joe, only for it to start up again as a reflex.

“Barclay, I swear, if you hurt my cat-”

“I won’t, I, that’s what not that noise is for. Or, uh, I mean I’m pissed you played keep-away with something I need, but I also have some bad news about Sy--uh, Bigfoot biology. Uh, so, first thing: I have a heat, which is why I was trying to stay away from people. Second thing: my kind uses a very intense game of, uh, chase as part of courtship.”

Stern shifts his thigh, “That explains what I’m feeling.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Look, can you go get the bracelet and then we can, like, have some tea and talk about this? I’m sorry, I feel so bad for making you deal with this.” The growl rumbles up again. He gears up another apology when he notices Joe’s blue eyes getting wider.

“Is this, um, only because of your heat? I mean, if you tackled some passerby, would the same thing be happening?”

“No.” Barclay squeaks.

“Then I’m not seeing how this is a bad thing, big guy.” He grinds his thigh up, making Barclay yip and pin him to the rug while touching as little of him as possible.

“Joe, this doesn’t make me like, mindless or anything, but if you say you want this you are signing up for several days of as much fucking as I can manage.”

“I don’t have any deadlines.” Joe’s eyes remain fixed on Barclays crotch.

“I’m serious, if you say stop I will, but if you don’t you won’t be able to get out of bed for days. And, uh, I can put my disguise back on, you don’t have to fuck me like this, I know it’s weird.”

“Barclay, I built my life’s work on weird.” Joe pets his arm.

“Yeah but not on fucking it.”

“How do you know? Lots of my time with the UP is classified.”

“Joe…” it’s a warning, the heat in his brain suggesting a dozen things to do so the human can’t be touched by another cryptid ever again.

“I want you, Barclay. In both forms. As long as you promise we’ll talk after, I’m okay with doing this first.”

“I promise”

“Good, because otherwise I was going out to see if there’s another bigfoot in the area who was interested.” Joe smiles, moves to pull off his shirt. He doesn’t get to; Barclay snarls possessively and drops onto him, biting his neck and ripping his clothing into a flurry of fabric scraps. The human moans, gasps when Barclay makes short work of his own pants and reveals what’s waiting beneath. Barclay doesn’t give him time to process, shoves his legs as far apart as they’ll go, and finally sinks into him.

“JesusfuckingCHRIST, ohfuck, ohmyfuckinggodAH!”

His cock is more thick than long, splitting the human open while bottoming out on every thrust. Joe’s fingers knot into the rug, his words morph into sharp, ecstatic sounds. Every creature in the forest can probably hear him.

Barclay clamps his hand down over the humans mouth, “shut up babe, don’t want anyone else in the woods getting any ideas about how good a fuck you are. You’re fucking mine.”

A muffled moan and, when he pulls his hand back, “Y-you really think I, fuck, I can keep quiet when you fuck me like this?”

“Thought they taught FBI agents discipline” he drags his claws across Joe’s chest, relishing the shaky, happy noise that gets him.

“There’s discipline and, AAHnnn, there’s inhuman restraint.”

Barclay slams the hand down again and growls, pleased, when Joe’s posture turns submissive.

“Here’s the deal; you keep quiet and take it like a good mate, and after I cum in you, can be as loud as you fucking want, because anyone who gets near you’ll know belong to me. I mean” he jerks his hips, “they’ll be able to tell that from the fact I’m balls-deep in you too, babe.”

Joe nods, replaces Barclays hand with his own as the Sylph hooks his knees over his shoulders. The next minute goes in a heat haze, his brain and body united in the desire to cum in Joe, to claim him, while the human stifles his screams and grows slicker with each thrust.

He tips his head back with a howlgrowlpurr as he cums, leaving faint clawmarks in Joe’s legs as he holds them open to make sure he takes every bit.

“Lord almighty” Joe’s hand falls to the floor, “that, that was amazing, why on earth were you acting like this isn’t something I’d waaAAAAAntohgod.” He whimpers as Barclay starts up again, fucking his cum up into him.

“Shoulda known you’d like it; you’re perfect, Joe.”

A blush and a shy moan, and he leans down to kiss him gently.

“You are. You’re the perfect man, the perfect mate, and we are gonna have so much fucking fun together.”

“And fun fucking?” He looks pleased with the wordplay.

He snorts, “Glad to know that sense of humor sticks around when I’m filling you up, oh, ohfuckyeah” another orgasm hits, milder this time.

“Are they near constant when you’re in heat?” Joe eyes the trail of cum sliding back down Barclay’s cock.

“No, just easy to have. So” he flips the human over, squeezing his ass appreciatively, “let’s try it from behind this time; wanna find out how it feels to cum in you while I get you off.” He slips his hand over Joe’s thigh and between his legs, “and you better fucking do it too, of I’ll drag you outside and fuck you against a tree so anyone passing by can see how fucking eager you are for me.”

“Please, we’ve spent so much time outside tonight.”

He thinks as kisses along Joe’s shoulders, “You’re right. I’ll fuck you against the door instead.”

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

When Stern wakes up, snow is falling in the grey light and his clock reads 2:30 P.M. Downstairs there’s a homey clink of pots and pans, and the smell of coffee winds it’s way to him.

He fell asleep around five, he thinks, when the cumulative exhaustion of his day overpowered the thrill of being with Barclay. Honestly, he’d have kept going, but Barclay was adamant he rest. So they finished with him fucking Stern’s slack, sleepy mouth, before the cryptid bundled him into bed and snuggled up to him with those deep, rumbling purrs that Stern now loves.

The bracelet is gone from the nightstand (Yeti didn’t eat it, thank god), so the chef must be making breakfast in his human form. Now would be a good time to go down and talk.

“Mew” A weight lands on his chest as Yeti kneads the blankets, purring when he reaches you and rubs her head.

“You know, little monster, this almost makes the heart attack you gave me worth it.”

“Mew?” The cat stares hopefully out the windows.

“Not a chance. I can’t take that stress again. Besides” he scoops her up, “we need to unbox that new toy I ordered. Barclay and I need some time to ourselves today.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #winter fills #taz amnesty

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chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky · 4 years ago

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This was a prompt I received that I stupidly responded to the ask already, but here is the fic! The prompt was that Joe has nightmares from a time when he and Nicky were separated for a week. It was a crazy coincidence because I had been writing in my large WIP IN EXILE, SEEING YOU OUT, Nicky mentioning that a week was the longest they’d been apart, after being shipwrecked. So, here is the fic, my lovely Anon!

Usually sleeping was nothing more than a utility. Joe always found being awake was far more entertaining, the only good parts of being asleep was being able to hold Nicky as close as he possibly can. It was like slotting into place, holding Nicky. Nicky also insisted on being by the door, his hands wrapped around Joe’s and a gun hidden beneath the pillow. It was a solid, warm presence on his chest, and it always reminded him that Nicky was here with him.

It was good to be reminded.

It was very rare the two were separated. In fact, he could count on one hand the amount of times they were away from each other for more than a day. Sometimes because of a mission, once because of a poorly timed ferry disaster.

And once because of an actual disaster.

Joe tries not to think of it too much. It’s a painful memory, and a terrifying one. Except after long battles and long fights, Joe holds Nicky a little closer. As tightly as he can. If it ever hurts or bothers Nicky, the man never says anything. If anything, Nicky clutches his hand tighter, as if he knows. Knows that Joe needs the grounding. Knows that he has to hold him close.

The nightmares don’t come often, but usually after a particularly difficult battle, it’s all that’s his subconscious can conjure. So when they are back in a safehouse, blood washed away from their skin, clean sheets, clean clothes. So when his eyes close, face nuzzling into Nicky’s neck, he stills his concern by listening to his loves heart.

He wants it to be enough.

His mind has other thoughts.

They’re on a tradeship in 1623. Joe had managed to talk his way on board, even though he was pretty sure these people were one step above pirates. Fortunately, Nicky stopped his concerns with traveling with the wrong people somewhere in the 1200s, and merely watched amusedly as Joe got them safe passage. The two of them are topside, Nicky always insisting that they are near the water.

“It is a beautiful night, isn’t it my love.” He says quietly, moving closer. The two are not touching, having experienced the wrong end of poor manners in that regard. Nicky said he didn’t care and Joe said fuck em, but neither of them can steer a ship by themselves. So, they put their anger aside and stand close enough for their shoulders to touch. “The moon is particularly beautiful.”

Joe looks up where at it, bright and sharp in the sky. “It is. Thought I’d much rather watch you talk about the sea.”

Nicky’s face scrunches into something fond and loving, turning back to face him. “But you know how much I love hearing your voice.”

“Well, you can’t be selfish, Nicolo. Watching you talk about the sea is like speaking to God, only I find you much more desirable.”

Nicky can’t help but laugh, bright and clear. Joe always is amazing when he laughs. If starlight could make a sound, it would not have a chance against his love.

So Nicky tells him about growing up on the water. The way he would fish in the summers and would dip his feet into the water. Neither of them have been able to go to their hometowns, hundreds of years later. They both have fond memories with the places and aren’t sure if they’re ready to change that. It was who they were, not how they move forward.

But Joe does like this. When he hears Nicky think about the things he loves. It makes him want to go, but it’s for Nicky to share, just as it is his to share his home. He can’t help it, he reaches out and wraps his hands in his loves and listens.

The rain starts to pick up and Joe frowns, watching it roll down his cheeks. “I know you like sleeping topside my love, but I think we should go to drier land.”

“I think you are right.”

The events that happen next are too quick for Joe to comprehend.

After the fact, he unscrambles them to try and put the pieces together. The events, he realizes later, go like this:

One: lightning strikes.

It strikes against the cloth of the sail, a fire lighting up the sky. Nicky and Joe turn quickly at it, eyes wide. “My god,” Joe breathes, the fire soon engulfing the entire ship. He instinctively grabs Nicky’s arm – to pull him close. “W-We—”

Two: the ship hits something.

It’s a sharp, jarring throw. The two of them break apart by the force of nature, the only thing strong enough to do so. Joe launches against the railing, a sharp pain in his gut as he feels a few ribs break. They start to snap back, but not before he sees Nicky sprawled across the ship, trying to get his bearings. The lightning is all around them, illuminating Nicky’s face as he looks across the ship to Joe.

“Yusuf!” Nicky calls from across the ship, his words terrified in a way he rarely hears.

Three: he loses Nicky.

It’s slow and fast all at once. Joe’s noticed that time has a tricky way of doing that, speeding up and slowing down at the most inconvenient times.

The ship is thrown, the fire rages, and a wave washes over the railings. Joe wraps his wrist around a rope and is tossed a but manages to stay aboard. He shakes his head dazedly, blinking a few times to get the world back in focus. He looks over to where Nicky was on the ship’s deck, sprawled out.

He’s gone.

“Nicky,” he chokes out salt water, the worlds barely understandable. “Nicolo!”

Unwrapping his arm from the rope, he sprints across the ship. “Nicky! Nicky, where are you? Nicky!”

He shouts his name hundreds of more times.

Nicky never answers.

***

The next time Joe is conscious, he’s on a beach. The sand is in his hair, his skin feels bloated, and he’s far too hot. He lets out a strangled cry, but its so raspy. He screamed himself hoarse for Nicky. Then, he found himself in the sea, salt water filling his lungs. Then he died. He died again and again and again. He hasn’t moved from the hot sand.

He died once more.

After a while, he manages to clamber to his feet, his skin on fire and singed. His limbs feel broken and messy, Joe lifting his head to the sky. “Nicky,” he calls, but his voice barely registers.

So he tries again.

And again.

Joe isn’t sure of a lot in life. But he is sure of Nicky.

And he’s sure he’ll find him.

***

It’s the first night he hasn’t had Nicky pressed against him in two hundred years. Joe can’t fall asleep. The sky is clear and the moon is out, as innocent as a night can be. He looks at the moon, the same bastard moon the two of them were looking at the night before. His eyes water. “Fuck you!” He shouts at the moon. “Fuck you!”

He’s not entirely sure how sane he is if he’s yelling at the moon.

But he’d trade it.

He’d trade the fucking moon to have Nicky back. To have him pressed against him.

The moon doesn’t offer a trade.

Joe curses at it some more.

***

On the fourth day, Joe is losing hope.

Nicky would be so ashamed. He wanders the island, trying to find him, forgetting to drink water and sleep. He died a few more times, almost hearing his loves voice whenever he came back. “This is so reckless, Yusuf. How can I find you if you’re dead?”

“Ah, my dear love, I am trying to find you. How can I think of things like water and food when I am focused?”

“Oh my love,” he would be so exasperated. “I need you alive. A little help would be nice.”

“Then why don’t you come here and help?”

Joe is on his back, talking to the sky.

***

On the seventh day, he goes to the edge of the island. “Nicky!” He shouts.

Like all the other times, no one answers.

A light rain starts, just like that night. It starts to rain harder, and Joe’s desperation and anger grows with it. “What do you want?” He calls to the sky not for the first time since being alone.

The rain is heavy. He can barely see bast his own hand, his entire body chilling to ice. He wonders what they did to deserve this. If it was a cruel twist of fate to have someone, only for them to be taken away. Joe looks to the left where his blade is.

Maybe humanity didn’t deserve what they were trying to do. They would try and protect, and this is what they got in return? Blinking, a few tears roll down his cheeks. “What do you want—” he says, broken. “What do you want in return? To bring him back to me?”

“I do not know?” A voice says behind him. “I would imagine it is what I want.”

Joe shuts his eyes.

He can’t handle this being fake. He turns and there’s a silhouetted figure ahead of him. He lets out a broken sob. “Please.”

Before he can even lose it, there’s a pair of hands on his face and a pair of lips against his. Nicky kisses him with a ferocity that takes his breath away. The man pulls him close, hands gripping tightly at his shirt and pressing his hands against his back. It’s as if there is no space small enough for him.

And there isn’t.

As Joe reciprocates, he thinks that the moon has nothing on the man in his arms.

***

He sits up with a jolt, a thin layer of sweat on his brow. Nicky startles under him, propping his head up on his temple. “My love, what is it?” Nicky asks sleepily, turning so that he can see him.

Joe is breathing heavily, the taste of salt water on his tongue. “It’s nothing, I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s not nothing.” Nicky says, brushing Joe’s curls aside. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Joe sees the fire. He sees the waves. He tastes the ocean. He feels the despair. “No,” he says quietly, his voice raspy. “I would… I would just like to hold you.”

Nicky surveys him for a moment, his attention fully on him, sleep nowhere in sight. Joe looks back, his mind on that ship. When whatever examination Nicky is doing is over, he grabs Joe’s arm and wraps it around his chest. “I’m here.”

He says it, but Joe doesn’t realize how much he needed to hear it.

So he plays it over his head like a mantra, until sleep takes him to a kinder shore.

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #joe x nicky #joe #nicky #yusuf al kaysani #yusuf x nicolo #nicolo di genova #fic prompts #lindsey writes #drabbles #I hope you liked it anon!

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chocolatemillkk · 4 years ago

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Party (JS)

I put the final bottle of champagne behind the mini bar and adjust the cocktail bowl slightly to the left. I look around the living room, the grand Christmas tree was still up as it usually was until after New Year’s. The whole place was covered in string lights, outlining the furniture and hanging from the ceiling. This was the famous New Year’s Eve party my parents have been throwing since before I was even born and this year was the last one I’d be attending for a while, I realise sadly. This time next year I would be living in LA, in my first year of university and my parents planned to come down for Christmas and be back here for New Year’s. I wouldn’t come along. I always looked forward to this, guess I’d have to savour it the best I could.

Both my mom and dad were only children which meant growing up they made a lot of friends along the way and each year our parties got a little bit bigger, more and more families coming together for their New Year’s eve party. I always looked forward to two though, the Michaels and the Suggs.

“Are you done daydreaming?” My sister comes up from behind me. “Because there should be appetizers that need rearranging or something according to mom.”

“I’m on it,” I say mock-seriously. My mom really went all out with the food and my sister and I always teased her about it. My sister, Liz, had started uni this year but luckily she was only in London. A lot of our friends her age weren’t though, so we were missing a lot of people this year. But at least Joe would be around, I think. And Zoe.

“Put these near the piano,” my mom hands me a plate as I make my way to the kitchen. “Don’t drop them!” I pretend to struggle under the tray which earns me a stern look. “You should get ready,” my mom reminds me. “There’s only an hour before guests start coming!”

I run up to my room after gently placing the tray where my mom wanted it and put on the dress I had bought for the occasion. It was deep green satin with a plunging neckline and a leg slit that went up to my hips—a shorter skirt lay underneath so I wasn’t flashing the whole party. I usually wasn’t this risky but I figured the occasion called for it. The sleeves are almost bell-like, and I do a twirl before the mirror, excited to see how people liked it.

Who was I kidding, I wanted Joe to see me in it.

It was silly, there was half a year before I was leaving this place, but more than half my life that I’d been crushing on Joe Sugg. Sometimes, I thought he knew how I felt, I thought I was quite obvious as a kid. For a second, I thought maybe the feeling was mutual. But after truth or dare in the seventh grade, I’d tried my hardest to hide whatever feelings I had for him. I wondered if he’d noticed.

“Truth or Dare,” Olivia asks my sister, Olivia Michaels was our neighbour growing up and the one who introduced my sister and I to the world of beer and rock and roll. My sister and I were good friends with her and her younger brother Felix.

My sister choses dare and Olivia has her eat one of the gross drink concoctions we made earlier. A few rounds later, my sisters asks me.

“Dare,” I say, feeling brave.

“I dare you to kiss either Joe or Felix,” my sister says smugly.

“What? I-“

“It’s a dare!” Zoe laughs and I look at Felix, he was a couple years younger than me-he was a child...and Joe was my huge crush. There was no way I was going to have my first kiss with him like this; with popcorn in my teeth and my lips stained with popsicles.

“Unless you’d like to kiss them both,” my sister teases.

Not wanting any more pressure, I lean over and peck Felix on the lips. I can’t help but sneak a glance at Joe as I go back to my seat and everyone laughs at Felix’s flushing cheeks. But he looks uninterested.

A few rounds later, Felix asks Joe and Joe picks Truth.

“Who would you date from this circle?” Felix asks. My heart plummets into my stomach. Joe looks around, avoiding my eyes and that makes my heart race faster. He had to know how much I would die to date him. To call him anything more than my best friend.

“Liz,” Joe says my sister’s name and I felt sick. Of course he liked her better than me, she was smarter and prettier than me. I was just his best friend.

“Aw you’re cute,” my sister pinches Joe’s cheeks and his sister joins in. I excuse myself but I didn’t think anyone even noticed.

A knock at my door reminds me there was a party about to go down, or already going down, I realise as I hear voices already. “How long are you going to take? Mom wants you downstairs to greet everyone!” Liz calls through the door.

“I’ll be a minute!” I say. I take my new christmas present-an eyeshadow kit my mom had given, and the lipstick my sister gave after I used most of hers, and put on my makeup, feeling like a grown up already. So much was changing and I was buzzing with excitement.

I skip downstairs and greet everyone the way I usually did every year. This year everyone asks about school, I tell them my LA plan and they wish me luck. Over and over. Until Joe walks in with a bottle of something in his hand and I run to him, nearly knocking him down as I throw my arms around him. He smelled like the cologne he reserved for special occasions, and the soap he always used. I could never tire of it, of him.

He was as handsome as ever, a clean white button up tucked into black trousers. He’d cut his hair recently but I sort of liked the way he styled it, the soft layers looked bouncy.

“You look handsome! Where’s Zoe?” I ask.

“Food poisoning,” he hands me the bottle and I take it from him, stepping a bit back so he could see my outfit but he continues on without comment. “Mum’s stayed home with her, the bottle’s from her.”

“Duh, as if you could afford this,” I tease, pretending like my heart wasn’t just stabbed by his nonchalance. He follows me in as I sneak the bottle past my mom and hide it in the kitchen, it was a tradition for us kids to get drunk on our own stash we steal throughout the night.

“Where’s everyone else?” Joe asks. “Your sister?”

I ignore the ache I get in my chest, “Oh doing her rounds probably. Pretending she’s an intellectual because she’s done one semester at uni.”

Joe laughs and I love the sound, especially when he laughs at a joke I make.

“You-“

“Y/N! There you are!” Felix and Olivia pop in, interrupting Joe, and I give them both hugs. Olivia had brought her boyfriend this year so we get introductions and a quick catch-up before Olivia goes to find Liz and I’m left with Felix and Joe. Felix had grown to be surprisingly handsome, in a nerd chic sort of way. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was younger than me, I could have even considered dating him.

“So Y/N you look really amazing tonight,” Felix says.

“Aw thank you,” I say. “You look quite chic tonight too, is that suspenders you’re wearing under your jacket?” I tease Felix until he’s pink in the face before I turn to Joe who looks bored. I loop my arm through his, “Want to get something to eat? I’m craving some shortbread cookies.”

“Yeah. If we’re having our own party later on we don’t want a repeat of ‘09,” Joe jokes. That was the first year we had all snuck a bottle of wine from the party and drank it on an empty stomach. None of us had a good time.

“Don’t remind me,” I shudder before I call behind me. “Felix you coming?”

Joe stiffens beside me but we walk on.

•••

After a dozen devilled eggs and shrimp cocktails, I lose everyone to the crowd and find myself alone near the stairs. I watch the crowd and bask in the togetherness the holidays brought on, I would miss this a lot. I almost didn’t want to go when I was in moments like these, but I knew what I wanted from life and I knew I couldn’t stay in dreary UK for it.

As I look around with the room so full of lights, the corners of my vision suddenly warp and distort into a blurry mass. I blink a few times but it remains. This was so not happening.

I sit myself on the step and close my eyes, placing my head on my knees but as I do that, the nause creeps in. This was getting serious. Perfect.

I go up to my bedroom quickly and close the blinds, shutting the room in darkness. I unzip the side of my dress to give my room to breathe and lay down.

Of course I had to get a migraine the day of new year’s eve. My last party for a while. I groan and turn to the side, blindly groping for any pill bottle, not wanting to risk turning on my phone light.

I lay in the dark, I don’t know how long. Time passed slowly in the dark, the only thing I could hear is the muffled sound of the party downstairs. My phone vibrates a few times but I don’t dare look at it. I wanted to nip this migraine before it could come full force. I couldn’t believe this was how my year was going to end, I think. And without meaning to, the tears leak out from my eyes. Stupid migraines and stupid Joe Sugg! He hadn’t even noticed what I was wearing, he didn’t even care. He fancied Liz more than I and I was still crushing on him like an idiot. I wasted my high school years waiting for him. And now I was going to graduate soon, with no history of a relationship and no...

A soft knock interrupts my pity party. I wait again as the knock sounds, just to make sure I wasn’t hearing it.

“Y/N,” it was Joe.

I swipe at my face, pulling my blanket over my face. “I’m here,” I say. “You can come in.”

I hear the door creak open, the noise from downstairs flooding through before the closed door muffles it again.

“Migraine?” Joe asks. We’d been friends long enough that he knew exactly what was going down. I sense him standing at the edge of my bed, the room still in darkness.

“Yeah,” I inch the blanket off my face. It’s not like he could see my makeup streaks in the dark. “Great timing right?”

“Can I do anything?” Joe asks. God, I scoff, I thought I could just turn my feelings off for him but him just asking that brings them back full force. “Maybe some water...”

“I’ve got water,” I say. I sense him shifting around the room.

“Didn’t you used to have those ice packs?” Joe knows his way around my room, he often came over when we did homework, or in the summer before we would go out with our other friends. He locates where I kept the freeze packs and he cracks them, walking towards my bed and sitting on my sheets. “Here.”

He places one on my neck and I flinch at the cold.

“Sorry,” he mumbles before putting it back on.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, the cold already numbing the throbbing in my neck. “Thanks Joe.”

“It’s nothing,” Joe whispers back. I take the pack from where his hands hold it and hold it myself as I gently turn in bed, the little light streaming in outlines his sitting figure.

“You don’t have to stay here,” I let him know. “Go back to the party.”

“It’s no fun if you’re not there,” Joe says. He slowly inches himself down beside me and the smell of him invades my nose. Oh no.

“Joe your cologne-“ I say and he quickly gets up.

“Oh shit right,” Joe stands and I see the shape of him pace away from the bed. “Uh, I can go home and change-“

“Oh my god,” I let out a laugh and cut it short as my head throbs. “You’ve left so many shirts here when we go swimming in the summer. Just put one on if you want to stay here so bad.”

“I’m just here to avoid everyone asking what my plans after school are,” he jokes. “Are they in the bottom drawer?”

“Yeah,” I respond. “Tell them you’re still figuring it out.”

“Everyone here has kids who are doctors or some shit,” I can hear the Joe changing and I try to keep the inappropriate thoughts at bay. “That’s not an acceptable answer.”

“Who cares what they think though,” I say. Joe joins me back in bed, laying down to stare at the ceiling as I look at his profile, barely illuminated by the light peaking through my blinds.

“Sometimes I do,” he says quietly.

I find his hand and squeeze it. He squeezes back and then turns to me. “So are you going to tell me why you were crying before I came in?”

“I was not crying,” I lie.

“You so were.”

“Was not.”

“Was too,” fingers graze my jaw and I’m busted. “Your face is still wet.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “I was just upset I was missing the party.”

“And?”

“I dunno, it’s my last party for a while!”

“Oh yeah,” Joe quiets down. A moment passes. Then another. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“We still have like 7 months together, don’t cry for me just yet.”

“You’re the one that was crying,” Joe shoots back.

“Shut up!” I joke. “Can’t you let me win? I have a migraine!”

“How is it?” Concern creeps back into his voice.

“The usual, I just have to tone down my senses. It’ll get better.”

Joe’s hand moves up to my face and cups it, my heart fluttering, the blood rushing to my face and joining the dance my migraine was putting on in my head.

His hand creeps up into my hair and suddenly his hand is plucking out the pins from my hair, and putting it on my bedside. Of course he was just being helpful while I was getting all bothered. “Do you want to get into something more comfortable?” He asks. I try to ignore the way I felt with his body hovering over mine in the dark but my mind blanks for a moment. “Y/N?”

“Oh I have every intention to go back to the party later,” I say. “This dress stays on.”

“It’s a great dress,” Joe says.

“It is isn’t it,” I say, noticing how uncomfortable Joe was getting. He actually noticed. Why didn’t he say anything earlier?

“I mean,” he clears his throat. “You looked...beautiful.”

I pause, pure joy rushing through me. Joe noticed me, he said I was beautiful. And oh god, all these things happening in my body were not helping my migraine. But I wasn’t about to tell Joe that.

“Thank you,” I say softly, too afraid to break the moment.

“It’s nothing new though,” he says just as softly. “You always look beautiful.”

I look at him, squint in the dark to try to read his face but it’s hard to. Was he saying this because I was having a shitty time or did he actually mean it?

“Not as beautiful as Liz though,” I deflect, deciding he was just taking pity on me. “She’s the one with the looks in the family.”

There’s a deafening silence around us, I can hear my heart beating in it. He wasn’t denying it, I want to cry.

“She is...beautiful sure, but you’re something different Y/N. You bloody take my breath away every time I see you.”

I want to cry for other reasons now. Was this really happening?

“Sorry,” Joe interprets my silence as rejection and begins sitting up to go. “The dark’s just made me stupid, I said way too much and-

“Joe,” I try to cut through.

“You obviously just, you need to rest and I’m-“

“Joe Sugg,” I say again and grab his hand. “Lay back down you big idiot, your blabbering is making my head pulse.”

“Right,” Joe lays back down but I can hear his quick breathing. I was glad to know he was just as nervous. I still have hold of his hand and I place it around my waist, inching closer to him.

“When?” I have to ask.

“Do you remember when we had our second friendiversary?” He asks. I did. We met when we were both 7 after our parents had set up a play date and we got along so well we knew we would be friends instantly. We’d spit on our hands and shaken them, declaring that day our friend anniversary, and we’d celebrated most years since. “You had your parents drop you off on your way home from your nana’s because it was our friendiversary and we didn’t see each other all summer. And your nana gave you cookies for the ride home, and you saved me the peanut butter ones? I don’t know, when you came in that day I just took a look at you and I had butterflies in my stomach. You were there ever since school let out and I’d missed playing with you for so long. I think I realised I missed you more than just a friend that summer. And when I saw you-“

“I actually remember.” I join. “Because you had just stared at me with your mouth open. And I just put the cookies in your open mouth. I was angry I thought you were looking at me like that because Liz had put gum in my hair a week before and my nana had to cut a lot off.”

“Yeah,” Joe chuckles. “I remember that too.”

“And since then?”

“Yeah,” Joe’s hand curls around my waist.

“What about the seventh grade? Truth or dare?”

“You bloody kissed Felix!” Joe exclaims.

“I...you picked my sister because I kissed Felix? He was like 10!”

“I was stupid.”

“Was? If I was feeling better I would be slapping you right now.”

“Good thing you’re not,” Joe tugs me closer. Our faces are inches apart, and I want to lean over and just kiss him so bad.

“What’s taken you so long,” I whisper, my fingers resting on his face.

“Scared I would ruin our friendship. You’re so much better than me, I thought you would laugh if I told you.”

“You are so ridic-“

“Shh,” Joe shushes me. “Do you hear that?”

I quiet down and listen as the party downstairs begins counting down to New Year’s. Suddenly my hands are clammy, this was it. I was going to kiss Joe Sugg once and for all.

“5...4...3...” Joe whispers between us.

“2...” I get out before Joe closes the space and kisses me, his lips so soft, my head feeling like it would explode. And not just because of the migraine.

“Wow-“ Joe gets out before I go in for a second kiss, the cheering downstairs drowns out as I pull Joe closer to me, closer, finally the love of my life was in my arms.

We’re moving too quickly, a wave of nausea hits me and I pull away.

“Sorry was that too quick?” Joe panics.

“Head,” I say as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Shit,” I feel him sitting up and hovering over me, probably looking for the ice pack because soon the cold feeling returns to my temples.

“Thank you,” I whisper. He places a kiss on my lips as I stay still, trying to ease my nause. I feel a kiss on my jaw, then my neck. “Do you have to go home?” I ask.

“Nope,” Joe shifts beside me, I feel him get under the blanket, and he pulls me close to him. He lays his hand gently over me and I settle in beside him. What a New Year’s.

•••

“Y/N!” My sister’s voice wakes me and my eyes fly open. She stands in my doorway with her jaw open and I realise she’s staring at the weight on my right side. Joe.

“What?” Joe mumbles, awakened by my sister barging in.

“Oh my god!” My sister squeals. “It’s happening!” She runs out my door. “It’s happening!” She yells out to whoever was awake. And if they weren’t awake, her commotion sure woke them.

“She’s crazy,” I mumble before turning to Joe, the evening rushing to catch me up. He’s still only half asleep. When I call his name, he only groans and pulls me closer to him, hiding his face into my neck. My heart flutters, it felt like we’d always been together like this.

I allow myself the small pleasure of running my hands up into his hair and he groans into my neck, lifting his face up to look at me. Suddenly he starts laughing.

“Way to make a girl feel confident,” I’m suddenly self conscious as I get up.

“You do realise you’re in yesterday’s outfit? Including your makeup?” Joe asks, his voice hoarse.

“Shit!” I run to my mirror and laugh at what I see. “I’ll be back!”

I grab a spare shirt and move to the bathroom where I clean up and brush my teeth. My skin looked awful having slept in makeup but the glow I felt from waking up next to Joe kills any issue I might have had with it.

When I get back to my room he’s already up, the bed is made, and he’s folding his clothes from yesterday.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” I say as I walk to him. Immediately he catches my hand and pulls me in.

“Your head?” He asks.

“Great. Yours?”

“Clear as day. Glad it listened to my heart this one time.”

A smile creeps onto my face as the realisation of what he said settles in but pulls me in and kisses it off.

“Happy new year Joe,” I whisper when we part, pulling him in for a tight hug.

“Happy new year Y/N,” Joe whispers back. “I think it’s going to be the best one yet.”

#joe sugg #thatcherjoe #joe sugg imagines #joe sugg imagine #buttercream imagines #buttercreams #youtube imagines #jack maynard #caspar lee #fic #new year imagine #qd

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zayray030 · 4 years ago

Text

Don't push a kind woman into darkness.

Summary: Iris really wanted to cry. She desperately wanted to cry and she didn't want to be the teams punching bag any longer.

Everyone's a dick to Iris and she finally pops off and her husband reminds her that he will always love her

Notes: Team Arrow is here because they wanted to visit Central because of a villlian. Everyone is a dick except for Barry and Felicity so yeah.

Iris wanted to cry. She desperately wanted to cry. She also wanted to sleep. Maybe she could sleep forever and not have to wake up again to this. But maybe this was just a nightmare? Maybe she could wake up if she tried really hard.

Those thoughts filled the African American woman as she tried her best to keep her emotions in check as the team took turns at using her as a punching bag.

What Iris had been thinking at the time was that if she hadn't jumped at the attacker that was attacking a little girl in the mall then the little girl would have gotten hurt. But of course her father was choosing to skip over that part.

“I just wanted-” Iris tried but was interrupted. She just wanted to tell them her side of the story. She just wanted to tell them what had actually happened but there was too much anger.

“Iris, what you wanted is completely different than what you should have done.” Caitlin said using her special doctor voice. Iris didn't like the sound of it. It sounded condescending and the way that she was looking at Iris made her want to punch the doctor's perfect teeth.

“What I should have done is-” Iris really just wanted them to shut up right now but they wouldn't shut up and it wasn't helping. Was the room spinning or was it just her?

“Get to safety, Iris. You should have let the professionals handle it.” interrupted Oliver. If Iris was the same girl she was before, she would have swooned at the thought of Oliver Queen talking to her, but now she just wanted him to shut up and she wanted him to use that brain of his and listen to her.

“Okay guys. Let's take a breath.” Felicity interrupted everyone and Iris really wanted to hug the blond right now. “I'm sure Iris has a logical explanation, right Iris!?” Felicity asked her and Iris really wanted to bury herself in the blonde's arms right now. She was no Barry but her arms would help her feel safe until Barry could come to save her.

“I'm sorry blondie, but right now the only logical thing is that Iris decided that she wanted attention and went head first into danger.” interrupted Ralph before Iris could begin and she really wanted to get her hands on some of that acid that the Trickster had made right now.

“I wouldn't call it heard first because technically she hadn't head butted him.” Felicity had said, trying to diffuse the tension but only making it worse.

“Felicity, you're being biased.” said Diggle who hadn't said anything so far and Iris couldn't help but glare at him. So Felicity was biased for siding with Iris but Oliver could speak even though he wasn't even part of the team?

“Can I just-” Iris really wanted to talk right now but everyone was being an ass today. Maybe not Barry and Felicity definitely. They listen, they understand.

“No Iris! You don't get to be pissed off! Do you have any idea how worried we were? You don't get to worry us like that and complain about it!” snapped Cisco and she could see the hurt in his eyes. But why couldn't he see the hurt in her eyes?

“But I just-” she was cut off again and she desperately wanted to break down right now.

“West Allen, don't even try it. Even someone with the IQ of gum would know not to stupidly jump into battle like that!” Harry snapped and she really wanted to say something hurtful at him but she couldn't. She just held back and tried not to burst into tears.

“Please can I-” she desperately tried not to cry but it was hard. However that's until her father spoke again.

“Iris, please be grateful. Everyone on this team goes through more horrible stuff than you and don't complain. But you complain about us worrying and-” but she had had it. They don't complain? Oh, that was not going to stand.

“I'M SORRY?!?” she screamed, turning to him, giving him the glare she leaves for the scum of earth. Everyone except Felicity recoiled slightly in shock at her tone. It was one of pure hate but she didn't have it in her to care at this point.

“THEY DON'T COMPLAIN! BUT I DO!?!” she didn't even care about how mean she sounded. She had every right. Not once has she been allowed to scream for all her worth but everyone has been allowed to rag at her for the smallest thing. She didn't even care at the look of pain in Caitlin’s eyes. The Ice Queen could sit down and listen to others for once.

“Iris maybe-” Oliver tried to interrupt but she wasn't going to have it. She turned to him and sent him a glare so angry he was shocked into silence.

“Maybe you should shut it and keep your nose out of everyone's business and accept the fact that just maybe you're a dick to everyone who needs to understand the meaning of boundaries and not to interfere in shit he has no need to interfere in!” suggested Iris mockingly, but the tone was angry and harsh and tears where flowing down her eyes.

“Baby girl I'm sorry I-” if her dad thought he could sweet talk her into forgiving him then he had another thing coming.

“When will you understand!!? I'm not a baby!?! I have gone through enough shit to classify me as a senior! I was lied to by everyone in my life for an entire year, all for the sole reason that I was a girl!” she screamed at her father and he had the decency to look ashamed.

“Iris, people have to lie to-” Digg tried to placate her but she spoke over him, sending him a nasty glare that had him shutting his trap.

“My fiancé killed himself right in front of me thinking that I never loved him!! And you wanna know the worst part?!? I forced myself to push that away to make sure that everyone else around me was protected, safe and happy! To make sure you were okay! Make sure Barry was okay!!” she screamed and she could feel Caitlin giving her a sad look from behind her but Iris didn't want her pity.

“YOU!!!” Iris screamed as she turned to the ice queen. Caitlin looked like a deer caught in headlights and her hands were icing up but Iris didn't care. This was long overdue and she wasn't going to wait any longer.

“Don't even get me started on YOU!! You fucking assisted in my murder and I had to fucking accept the fact that you would start working with us again. You and that phycopath! And when I tried to yell at you before, you know what happened?! I got fucking yelled at like I was the villain!!”Caitlin had the decency to look ashamed but when she opened her mouth Iris spoke over her. “I would be perfectly fucking fine with you here. But I didn't even get a fucking apology!” Caitlin froze at that, horror setting in her eyes but Iris could care less.

“I have sat here in this team doing nothing but be sweet and nice to everyone. Have tried my hardest to make sure we all stayed friends. Didn't complain when I was sidelined and just took it in. Because when I did speak up I was looked at as if I was the villain.” Iris said, her tears making her choke on a few words and her dad looked like he wanted to hug her, but he could tell Iris wouldn't react too nicely to that.

“And now, I may not have been stranded on an island for 5 years,” she said nodding at Oliver who had a mighty look of shame. “or been in the army.” Diggle had the sense to look ashamed at himself. “but I know about being hurt. And the biggest hurt ever, is when people you love and trust won't even listen to you.” Her tears were falling silently now but Felicity was smiling encouragingly at her and Iris continued.

“But if you had listened then you would have known the criminal was straight up molesting the little girl and I stopped him from going any further. If you would have all wanted him to continue, I'll make sure to remember that when I see someone getting touched against their will.” her voice sounded so broken and so wrong on the normally happy girl that everyone but Felicity couldn't help but put their heads down in shame.

“She's right you know.” came a voice. Everyone turned around and they could see Barry standing there and he had a look of upmost fury on his face and he was glaring at everyone like he would do to the criminals he would arrest for murder or for rape. In disgust.

“She has been through so much and instead of complaining and whining about it like we do, she goes on about it to be a better person. She puts her problems aside for others and makes sure that everyone is protected. I won't deny that I have wronged her in the past, because I have, but I always make sure to apologise.” said Barry, cold fury directed at them and Cisco couldn't help but bow his head down in shame.

It reminded him of time he had created the cold gun and Barry had found out.

Barry quickly sped over to his wife and quickly picked her up, carrying her bridal style. Iris didn't say anything, just put her head in the crook of Barry's neck and tried to stop her tears.

“Now, I'm going to take my beautiful, selfless, kind wife home and all of you, except for Felicity considering she's the only one being nice to her, are going to think long and hard about what you've done and find ways to beg for forgiveness.” Barry's tone held no room for discussion and even Ralph or Oliver tried to say anything.

“Make sure she knows she's loved. And by that I mean bring her chocolate. Not that there's anything wrong with sex. I mean that is if you use sex. Which is fine.” Felicity babbled going bright red and Iris couldn't help the watery giggle that escaped her.

“I prefer both.” she said softly and Barry couldn't but smile at his wife.

“Then you'll get both.” he said quietly into her ear before running off.

“We really messed up this time.” mumbled Cisco and nobody, not even Harry could deny how dirty they've done Iris. Even Joe was standing there, shame in his eyes at the pain he bought his girl.

~Westallen loft~

Barry quickly sped into his and Iris's loft and quickly went over to their bed. He gently laid her down and sped into the kitchen. He grabbed all her favourite chocolates and sped back into the room.

He speedily undressed her out of her jeans and blouse and into some pajama shorts and a flash hoodie.

“I love you, Iris West Allen.” Barry said lovingly as he began kissing down her body and Iris couldn't help her giggle.

“Babe, no!” she giggled. Barry pouted in disappointment but didn't interrupt as she continued. “Let me eat the chocolate first. I need the sugar to catch up to you. Your stamina is crazy.” she said throwing a saucy wink at him and Barry couldn't help feeling the love for the woman right in front of him grow tenfold.

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nat-roman0ff · 5 years ago

Text

all i want for christmas is us

all i want for christmas is us

an entry for @saintlymendes secret santa

for: nicole (@tell-me-when-ur-ready)

words: 2,092 warnings: some swearing, angst, and cavity inducing fluff (it is christmas after all)

Shawn looks down again at his phone, scrolling through the photos. Happy. Warm. Holiday season. Ice skating at his favorite park, kissing under the mistletoe, and posing in the matching pajamas his mum had bought for the entire family. A smile creeps up on his face and then disappears just when he starts to feel its warmth.

Last Christmas.

Last Christmas the photos were taken. Last Christmas they were happy. Last Christmas she had said yes to marrying him.

Now the photos just served as painful reminders of his current reality. Sitting alone in his half empty condo. He couldn’t bare to replace the things she took, just in case she decided to come back.

Odds and ends mostly; an end table she purchased at an antique store and lugged eight blocks back home on a hot August weekend, an ottoman where the two would sit on the floor across from each other and play cards all night over a bottle of her favorite red wine, an entirely empty wall that used to make up her vinyl collection. The half empty condo matched his half empty heart.

Shawn locks and drops his phone to his chest with a thud, opting for the sting of its weight on his sternum over the stinging of his broken heartstrings. He still hadn’t cleaned up the red wine stain from the carpet when she spilled it last Christmas. Getting rid of that was the last bit of her still around and, well, he needed to still hold onto something.

Karen’s rung three times at this point. She knew it was going to be a hard day for him, insisted he spend the night Christmas Eve but Shawn declined and instead drank himself stupid until three in the morning and passed out on the living room floor next to her red wine stain.

He thought about calling her, wishing her a Happy Christmas, or anything just to hear her voice. It hadn’t been a messy breakup, at least at first. She said it was too much too soon and the constant pressure from the outside world was starting to seep through their happy little bubble.

Time. It was always time that she needed. But after she returned the ring, the weeks faded into months and when he saw that first picture come up on his timeline he knew that their time had run out.

It was innocent enough; someone he knew through mutual friends but could never remember his name. Smiling, with her lips pressed against his cheek.

She was with someone else.

He blacked out that night, somewhere in the middle of a world tour in a foreign city and woke up the next morning by Brian dumping a glass of water on his head. He cried for a day and a half straight and then again when he had to tell his mum.

Time.

Everyone said it was all he’d need to get over her; the love of his life. He’d known it from a very young age, before the fame, before they’d ever exchanged a wayward glance at each other. He knew she was going to be the one for him, for the rest of his life.

Until she wasn’t.

Write about it. Was his first thought. Write until your fingers bleed and there’s nothing left in your head. Write out every memory, every feeling, every ounce of pain that courses through your God forsaken veins and then you’ll be rid of her. But Shawn couldn’t write. He couldn’t put down a single fucking word in the six months since she left. He just couldn’t describe it; there was no way to put into words how he was feeling, nothing that did it justice, nothing that captured the pathetic sadness that lingered in his bones about her.

It’s half past two when Karen finally got ahold of him. He’d lost track looking at photos, letting his memories replay on the walls of his condo over and over again. He watches the two of them dance in the kitchen at midnight and make love on the living room floor in the morning, wrapped up in each other’s arms. If he was miserable at home on Christmas, he was going to be even worse at his parent’s house.

Everything was the same as it was last year when Shawn finally walks through the front door of his parent’s home, right down to the smells. Except she’s not there. There’s a small box in the spot where the ring box sat last year on the tree and Shawn tries to blink away the onset of tears that threaten to come through. He wonders which cousin is getting engaged this year.

Asshole stole my idea.

“Everything alright, darling?” Karen asks in only that mum way. She knows it’s not. It hasn’t been for a while.

Shawn nods his head, “yeah, fine. Just...you know. I knew today would be hard.”

Karen smiles, “I know, honey. But they day’s not over yet,” she says with a wink.

Something in Shawn’s heart flutters.

“C’mon,” she starts, “let’s go open presents.”

An hour and two bags full of wrapping paper later the Mendes’ family is nearly finished unwrapping gifts. Shawn’s eyes glance over to the box sitting snugly on the tree branch. No one has reached for it yet, and as things are winding down he can’t help but stare at it, wanting to know the contents. It’s slightly larger than a ring box, but not enough to put anything substantial in it.

“There’s one more for you,” Manny points to the tree.

Shawn looks at the box and back to his father and he nods. Standing, he goes to the tree and opens the box with shaky hands. There’s a folded up piece of paper inside and he immediately recognizes her handwriting and that stupid gold pen he always hated. It smeared the edges of her letters, he never thought it would end up being something he missed. Shawn can feel the heat of his family watching him as he reads;

Shawn,

It’s been too long since we last spoke and I suppose I owe you a lot. See, time is a funny thing. It feels the most fleeting when you have none of it left and the most crippling when you’re looking down the barrel of forever. I needed time on my own, I needed time with other people. I needed to know that what we had was what my forever was meant to look like and to do that I needed to find out a little more about myself. So, as it turns out I actually DO like cucumbers, riding motorcycles, and being alone. But I still hate tomatoes, unicorns (don’t ask) and being away from you. I’m sorry for the pain that I’ve caused you. I know there’s never going to be a way I can take that away or make it up to you, but I want you to know just how sorry I am.

Meet me tonight at 6 where we had our first date (yes, the first-first one, not the second-first one, you’ll know what I’m talking about).

Love, Nicole

His ears are ringing when he looks up - eyes immediately checking the clock on the wall behind him: 5:55.

“Fuck - I gotta go!”

Shawn runs to grab his shoes and jacket. It’s faster if he runs, he thinks. It’s not far and his car is packed in with his relatives in the driveway and it would take ten minutes just for everyone to move out of the way. He sets off as the snow starts to pick up, slipping and sliding against the sidewalk pavement, breath coming out in foggy puffs.

He runs to the park by the high school. It’s not far, and he thinks he can make it in time. His cheeks are frozen, and snowflakes keep getting stuck in his lashes but Shawn just runs to her. When he rounds the corner to cross he sees her there, sitting on that same old dingy swing set that has somehow (despite looked rotted for at least the last twenty years) has never broken. She’s bundled up in her winter coat, looking down at her boots absentmindedly drawing pictures in the snow with the tip of her shoe.

The park had been their halfway point when they were kids; perfectly in the middle of each house when they didn’t want to worry about being around parents. It had been here that they had their first date in sixth grade; a picnic of PB&J’s that ended in an unforecasted rainstorm. She didn’t mind, and they splashed and danced in the puddles and went home a dirty sopping mess and he was sure that was the exact moment he fell in love with her. Even though he wasn’t sure what that meant yet. As all things do when you’re twelve, the relationship ended just as quick as it started and it wasn’t until six years later that things actually became serious.

But that’s another story for another day.

He’s not sure what to say when he approaches her. His chest is frozen from heaving in the frigid air and she just looks up from the swing and stares. He’s not sure it was possible for her to get more beautiful, but she somehow managed to. Her cheeks were pinked like his, her hair sprinkled with tiny snowflakes.

“I know how much we both love grand romantic gestures,” she laughs.

Fuck, he never thought he’d hear that laugh again and it literally warms his chest to.

“Nicole I -”

“Shawn I’m sorry,” she starts, “I have no way to ever make up what I did to you. I just...I got really fucking scared. You’re the only person I’ve ever been with and that terrified me. I didn’t know what it was like to be young and single or do something by myself. So I had to be alone -”

“What about that guy? The one you posted a picture with?” Shawn says.

Nicole slaps her forehead with her palm, “Shawn, Joe is my friend.”

He sucks in a breath of air, “oh.”

“There was never anyone else,” she pats the empty swing next to her, “there’s never going to be anyone else.”

Shawn sits beside her, it feels good to be this close again; to see all the little things about her up close that made her, her. All the little things he failed to appreciate before she had gone.

“So what does this mean now?” He asks.

Nicole reaches for his frozen hand and holds it in her gloved one, “I hope it means you still have that ring -”

Before she can finish Shawn pulls the chain of her swing towards him to bring her closer, and kisses her. Her lips are cold and chapped but so are his and there’s a brilliant warmth of familiarity that his bones recognize and he melts into her, wrapping an arm around her middle and holding on like his life depends on it.

(It does)

“So how did you even pull this off? Shawn asks when he pulls away.

Nicole smiles, “Karen helped me.”

He snorts, “I knew it.”

The park is so silent Shawn swears he can hear the snowflakes hit the ground, trapped in their own personal snow globe. They sit quiet for a moment, and Shawn is still trying to process what just happened. He can feel her still lingering on his lips; the same sickly sweet lip gloss she always wore.

“Do you want to go home?” He asks, looking at her through snow flake lined lashes.

Nicole nods, “I’d really love that.”

Shawn threads his fingers through hers and they walk hand in hand back to the Mendes household. He feels the gold circular piece of metal against his chest. He’s worn it there for so long he’s forgotten he has it.

He stops them in the middle of the sidewalk and bends down onto one knee onto the snow, reaching under his shirt and jacket to snap the engagement ring off the chain he wore around his neck.

“Will you marry me...again?”

Nicole nods frantically, “yes! Now get up before your jeans get wet.”

Shawn stands and pulls her into a kiss, threading his fingers through her hair until the both of them are out of breath.

“Hey Shawn,” she starts, lips still ghosting against his, “Merry Christmas.”

He smiles so hard it hurts his cheeks, “Merry Christmas, my love.”

#saintlymendessecretsanta #shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fluff

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