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wordsnwhiskey · 3 years

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As It Should Be | Chapter 5: Breaking In The Newbies

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: After a rough and emotional night, Frankie makes a decision on Jack’s offer. Before they can get to that though, the morning debrief with Champ brings back a familiar face and Jack has you and Frankie teach the junior agents a lesson during combat training.

Rating: M

Warnings: Canon typical violence, guns, swearing, discussions about safewords.

A/N: Alright, a lot of stuff needed to happen here and we’re going to have a little action and see Frankie show off a bit. It was important to me that the discussion of safe words and Jack checking again for consent happened in a chapter separate from the actual smut. For me, it further emphasizes that Jack doesn’t want Frankie to feel pressured to accept or do anything he doesn’t want to because it’s “in the moment”. Consent is sexy, friends.

I have to give my love and thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the beta reads, the fantastic constructive criticism and encouragement!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 4: Company | AO3 | Art

The morning sun stirred Frankie. Even with his eyes still closed, he could tell the room was alight, but the warmth that surrounded him had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the body next to him. He opened his eyes and realized he was definitely not in Whiskey’s guest bedroom. Instead, he was very much curled into Whiskey’s lightly rising chest. Frankie blushed, very unused to being the little spoon, and moreover, not used to someone’s morning wood poking at him. Whiskey was gently roused from sleep by Frankie’s small movements. He lifted his arm from around Frankie’s waist and stretched.

“G’morning Flyboy. You were having nightmares, so I brought you in here.

“Oh, sorry for waking you up and… thank you.” Frankie felt guilt sting at his throat.

Whiskey grunted and rolled out of bed to go shower.

“Nothing to worry about, partner. I’m no stranger to those kinds of nightmares.”

Frankie was grateful Whiskey understood and made no effort to pry. With a grunt of his own, Frankie got up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen, intent on trying to get coffee going while Whiskey showered.

Whiskey finished his shower and stepped out to dry off, then wrapped his towel around his waist. He was drawn to the kitchen by the smell of coffee, Frankie’s initiative quirking the corners of his mouth into a small smile. He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Frankie poured their coffee, handing Whiskey’s to him black. Jack hummed his approval, a sound which he noted made Frankie preen a bit.

“Good boy.” Jack gestured to the coffee with a small wink as the air seemed to be pushed from Frankie’s lungs. “Now, as much as I enjoy the view of you in just my shorts, let's get you into something you can wear at the office.”

Frankie was rooted to the spot, Jack’s “good boy” ringing in his ears and sending a wave of warmth throughout his entire body. Jack didn’t comment, just let his smirk speak for itself as he took his coffee back to his room and opened the doors to his closet. His fingers tabbed at a few of the hanging suits as he looked back to see that Frankie had finally uprooted himself and joined him.

“We’re similar in build, so you ought to be able to pull off one of my suits…”

Frankie winced.

“Right, well then, let’s go with something a touch more casual.

Jack grabbed a pair of jeans, a blue button down, white t-shirt, belt, and socks, handing each article of clothing over to Frankie as he moved around his closet.

“There, that should do you. Comfortable, but still presentable for Statesman.”

Jack gave him a smile only to notice Frankie shifting his weight.

“Thanks,” came Frankie’s reply as he turned to get dressed. He didn’t mind going without boxers, but the sudden realization that he needed more clothes of his own hit Frankie as he dressed in the clothes Jack had given him.

“Hey Jack?”

Whiskey hummed in acknowledgement as he finished getting dressed himself: jeans, suspenders, white button down shirt, and a navy wool blazer.

“I was thinking about your offer last night, and… I’d like that.”

Whiskey turned to look at Frankie, giving him a once over, distantly thinking about how good Frankie looked in his clothes, and a mischievous smile lit up Whiskey’s face.

“I’m looking forward to it, Flyboy. We’ll discuss things a bit more at the end of the day in my office. It’s about as close to neutral territory as we’re gonna get for that conversation. For today though, I want you to be a good boy and stick to me like a shadow. We’re meeting with Champ first thing. Then, we’re gonna have some fun.”

Frankie nodded, rocking back on his heels for a moment, then fell in step with Whiskey as they headed out, both of them grabbing their respective hats as they went. The ride in Whiskey’s Bronco was quiet, and soon enough they were riding the elevator up to their floor in the Statesman tower.

You were seated at the conference table facing the double doors with Pope to your right.

“You sleep alright, Pope? Hope Ginger didn’t keep you too late.”

“She’s something, that’s for sure, Hawk, but she did let me go, eventually.”

He gave you a good natured laugh that slowly lost its shine.

“You hear from Fish, Hawk? Ginger told me where she put him up and I went to check on him last night, but he never answered.”

Worry bloomed in your chest, not that it had really gone away after seeing Frankie leave yesterday. You figured if he wanted or needed to talk, he would have reached out to you. Honestly, you had hoped he would have checked in with Pope at some point since he probably felt more comfortable with him. Just then, the conference double doors opened, giving way as Jack strode in, greeting you with a smile and tilt of his head. Relief eased the tension in your chest and shoulders when Frankie followed closely behind Jack. Your eyes darted over to Whiskey, fixing him with a questioning gaze as you realized the clothes Frankie was wearing belonged to Jack.

“Fish!” Pope practically jumped out of his chair, rushing over to Frankie with a duffle bag in tow. “I was worried about you, hermano. I went to the hotel, but you didn’t answer.”

To Frankie’s credit, his face didn’t betray much, but both you and Pope knew that Frankie didn’t have any other clothes aside from what he had left with.

“Uh, yeah, must’ve just missed you.”

You could tell Pope was filing the information away for later. Your eyes wandered to Jack’s again and you raised an eyebrow. At least you now had an idea why he had cancelled on you last night.

“Here, Fish. I figured you’d want your go bag.”

“Gracias, hermano.”

They clasped arms, then took their seats. Frankie grabbed the orange tinted glasses he had left the day before and put them on, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. His gaze fell to yours and he gave you a small smile, but before you could say anything, Champ’s holo image flickered to life.

“Catfish! You’re looking mighty fine! Much better than yesterday.”

“Yes sir, thanks.”

Champ nodded. He’d been worried about how the man would fare, especially considering the news yesterday.

“Right, down to the business at hand. It does appear that a new cartel is making their play at center stage, picking up where Poppy left off. They’re not following Poppy’s business model, though. From what we understand, the group is headed by four individuals: Isabella Gómez, Duke Hernández, Steven Weisel and Emily Weisel. They’ve taken to calling themselves La Linda Rosa, likely after the Red Agent flowers. Up until now, they’ve been your run of the mill cartel, but it’s our belief that the Weisels have been instrumental in their production and processing of Agent Red. Recently, the Weisels purchased land in Colombia, and from our drone coverage, they may have set up processing plants there. We don’t know why the sudden shift to Agent Red, though. The plants themselves go for $500k per plant, and they take time to mature. We don’t think the Weisels are responsible for acquiring the plants, so that leaves either Isabella or Duke.”

Frankie’s attention drifted from Champ to the pictures on the screen and swore.

“Fuck. Pope, you know who that is, right? I thought they were in Australia?”

Pope did a double take, recognizing his old informant’s brother. The Statesman stared at the two men, waiting for them to elaborate. Frankie sighed and settled into his seat a bit more, knee bouncing anxiously.

“Four years ago, Pope came to me and the rest of our old team to take out Gabriel Martín Lorea and make out with the money he had stockpiled. Pope’s CI, Yovanna, and her brother, Duke, both worked for Lorea. In exchange for helping us, Pope got the brother out of jail and we dropped them off in Peru with papers to Australia and $3M. Looks like Duke wasn’t satisfied with life in Australia.”

Ginger frowned and pulled up Duke’s known associates, Yovanna’s picture following the others on screen.

“Yovanna appears to still be living in Australia, but it’s possible Duke grabbed the money and ran.”

Frankie closed his eyes, lifting his cap and carding his fingers through his hair before placing the hat back on his head and sighing.

“What’s the plan? Sounds like the plants and processing facilities need to be taken out, and then there’s the compound, too.”

Pope nodded, then sighed as well. This was bringing back memories for the both of them.

“We’ll also need to be wary of the local agencies. They’ll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, especially if it’s anything like how it was with Lorea.”

Champ nodded and tilted his head to Ginger.

“We’re doing our own recon and then we’ll break out teams. Pope, Catfish, we’d like you to at least help with intel, and given your experience in taking down Lorea, if you’re up for it, I’d like you both on the compound assault team.”

You saw Pope and Frankie share a look, Frankie’s jaw clenched and then he nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great, not to worry boys, Statesman has the best resources, stateside or otherwise. For now, I��m sure we can keep you plenty busy. Whiskey, don’t forget, today is your day for combat training with the new recruits. Bourbon, Cranberry needs you to test equipment in the lab later today.”

“Pope, could you actually stick around again for a bit? I’ve got some more intel I want to run through with you.” Ginger chimed in, and you were surprised he didn’t grimace at the idea of being locked in a room for hours again.

With that, the meeting was over, Champ’s holo image disappeared and they took their glasses off. Jack stood up and Frankie was quick to follow him, much to your intrigue. You stood up as well. You were eager to watch Jack have his way with the new agents. It was always fun. Whiskey seemed to know you would be following and beckoned for you to enter his office first, followed by Frankie, and Jack closed the door behind him.

“Go ahead and set your bag down wherever you’d like, Flyboy.”

Frankie dropped his bag in a corner then promptly started to rifle through it, pulling his shoes out and quickly swapping his dress shoes for them. He let out a sigh of relief as he rolled up on the balls of his feet and rocked back on his heels. He hated dress shoes.

You took a short minute to admire Frankie in the blue button down while he rolled up his sleeves. Jack’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you into him.

“Missed you, darlin’.”

Smiling, you took his face in your hands and tugged him down for a kiss.

“Missed you too, Jack.”

You murmured against his lips, and you resolved not to ask about last night. Whatever happened, Frankie must have reached out to Jack, not you or Santi, and you’d leave it at that. Jack hummed contentedly for a moment before he pulled back and winked at you.

“Are you coming to watch us break in the newbies, darlin’? I was thinking you and Flyboy could do the first demo.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but there was a playfulness in them as well.

“Us?” You questioned Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“First demo?” Came Frankie’s question as he whirled around to face you and Whiskey.

Jack’s smile broadened and he started out of his office and towards the elevator, expecting you and Frankie to follow.

“What are we demoing, Whiskey?”Frankie asked, more pointedly this time.

“Well, our newbies are scheduled to learn about disarms and what happens when the enemy goes for their gun. I thought it’d be good to have them start out seeing Bourbon disarm you.”

Frankie huffed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall. You smiled as you leaned against the wall opposite Frankie.

“It’ll be just like old times, Fish.”

He groaned and shook his head.

“Why have me do the demo though? I’m not a Statesman agent.”

Before you could respond to reassure Frankie, Jack chimed in, eyeing him with nothing short of gleeful mischief. Jack enjoyed breaking the new agents in almost a little too much sometimes, but it was good for them, and he was good at it.

“No, you’re not, you’re ex-Delta Force, Frankie. These agents have had plenty of training, but they don’t have your experience, Flyboy. They’re gonna learn the difference today.”

Jack shared a similar philosophy with you when it came to combat training and sparring. You had been a terror in hand-to-hand, still were, you were proud to say. You knew there was often a size disadvantage, but you had learned to use your opponent’s momentum against them, and more importantly, you didn’t follow convention. In sparring matches, most people fought like they were sparring, which was fine for beginning, but there was a big difference between practicing and being in an actual fight. You never advocated for an all out brawl, but you refused to follow the typical learned pattern that people naturally gravitated towards. Tom had been predictable and a sore loser. Will was predictable but sweet. Benny, well, there was a reason he was semi-pro, which left Santi and Frankie. Santiago was fun, and you had lost your fair share of matches to both him and Benny. Frankie had a spark in his eyes when he sparred, but no matter how hard you had tried to get him to let go, he refused. It had nothing to do with anything silly like you being a woman, more to do with the fact that Frankie never seemed to just let himself go in that way. You had only seen him let go a bit twice, both times in the field and well worn down by the day.

The elevator dinging startled you out of your reverie, and you followed right behind Jack towards the training room. Frankie assumed they would be entering a gym of sorts, but he was sorely mistaken, and he realized the ‘floor’ they were on must have been composed of several. The ‘room’ was really more of a training complex housed in the unassuming tower. To the right, a group of 20 people stood, waiting. He gave them a cursory glance, and then his eyes were pulled to the range. He’d definitely have to visit to let off some stress. He followed as you and Whiskey led the way to the group of agents and hung back slightly as the group stood to attention.

“Well, look at this promising group of newbies, Bourbon. D’you think they’re up for today’s lesson?”

You let the smirk on your lips turn into a full crooked smile, you had more than a small idea as to what Jack was going to do. Looking over your shoulder, you caught Frankie’s eye and nodded for him to join you.

“I don’t know, Whiskey, simple concept, but we’ll see what their execution is like. My money is on our guy.”

The agents before you bristled, full of young pride that was well-earned. Whiskey’s hand clasped over Frankie’s shoulder as he introduced him to the new agents.

“Y’all are in for a treat. Our friend, Catfish, here, has generously volunteered to help train you on close quarters combat and disarms. Bourbon will demo the defense first. Catfish,” Whiskey took a pistol from the long table off to the side and handed it to Frankie. “Your objective is simple: shoot a blank at Bourbon.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his eyes sought yours to make sure you were comfortable. An answering smile was good enough for him, and he checked the pistol, confirming there were no live rounds, before looking back up at you. The two of you easily slid into a ready position, and Jack gestured for the new agents to give you some room.

“Halcón, when you go for the takedown, ten cuidado con mi espalda. Ya no soy joven.” [be careful with my back. I’m not young anymore.]

It only mildly annoyed you that he already knew you were going to go for the takedown, after priding yourself on your spontaneity earlier, but you pushed that out of your mind as you both stood a few steps apart. There would be a split second when Frankie pulled his pistol and took a readying step. That would be where you would have an opening and make your move. A tense handful of seconds that seemed to stretch on filled the air. Jack watched the new agents, the tension between you and Frankie seemed to embed itself in the junior agents’ lungs as they all waited with bated breath.

Nothing telegraphed Frankie’s quick movements as he drew his pistol, but on instinct, your body was moving. He saw your left hand fly out to redirect his momentum and push his gun hand away, quickly shifting to plant his weight, keeping you from landing the takedown this early. The training you and Frankie had received taught you to be efficient and end things quickly. That was easier said when you had spent years training together. The junior agents seemed to still be holding their breath while you traded blows. Your moment of opportunity came, and you took it. Frankie seemed to understand what was happening but his balance was off. You stepped into him, your hip bumping his as your hand came to grip over the top of his pistol. The next thing everyone knew, you were both on the ground, the gun skittering harmlessly away, and Frankie’s arm in an arm bar. He grunted and quickly tapped at your leg to surrender, and you let him go. The class was quiet until Whiskey broke the silence as you helped Frankie to his feet.

“I hope you lot were paying attention to Catfish here, he did a great job demonstrating what to do when facing a difficult opponent like Bourbon. For this exercise, the rest of you will attempt to take a shot at Catfish and he will disarm you by whatever means he deems necessary.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, knowing Whiskey was being intentional with his wording.The laugh died quickly, however, at the words of one of the junior agents.

“How was that a good example? He lost, he was disarmed. We should be practicing against someone better, who would last longer.”

At your side, you saw Frankie stand up straighter, his feet moving shoulder width apart as his hands clasped behind his back and he fixed the younger agent with a steely gaze. Even as his breathing remained calm, it was obvious the words had gotten to him. Whiskey’s good natured grin turned into a smug smirk.

“Davis,” Whiskey began, calling the man out by his last name and emphasizing he hadn’t earned a Statesman moniker. “Since you’re so eager, by all means, approach Catfish when you’re ready and show us how your Statesman training fares.”

Frankie kept his gaze leveled at the cocky junior agent, noticing in his periphery that you had moved away to give them plenty of room. Davis moved to be a few steps in front of him. Frankie continued to hold the stare as he questioned Whiskey.

“Are you sure about this, Whiskey?”

Whiskey nodded, Frankie’s gaze flickering over to him for the briefest of seconds, then he brought his hands to a loose ready position at his sides. Davis drew his pistol, but Frankie grabbed the barrel with his left hand, stepped forward and hooked his right foot behind Davis’ lead leg and pushed on the agent’s chest with his right hand. Davis went down, but found himself suspended by Frankie’s hold on his shirt. The class was filled with littered gasps and snickers. The ‘fight’ was over before it had really begun. Frankie helped right the agent and stepped aside to let him retrieve his firearm.

“Attaboy, Catfish! Davis, looks like you’ve got some work to do. Here’s another lesson, agents: Statesman agents aren’t your only competition out there. We’ve got some fancy gear and trainin’ here, but there’s a world of intelligence agents and mercs out there. Catfish served with Bourbon, and that should tell you all you need to know.” He paused a moment to let the information sink in as Davis returned to the line to lick his wounds. Then Whiskey called the next agent.

Frankie breathed in, then out through his nose, and got ready. As they went, the junior agents in waiting began to pick up on a few of his techniques, and he had to adjust, but time spent practicing and training at Benny’s gym had prepared him well for this.

You watched as Jack’s eyes danced while he followed Frankie’s movements. The circumstances earlier had prevented him from truly appreciating how efficient and capable the quiet man was. The last of the junior agents had made their attempt and consequently failed. Frankie’s breath was coming more unevenly now, and rightly so. What he had gone through would be exhausting for anyone.

“Well done, everyone, a round of applause to Catfish for taking the time to demonstrate y’all have a lot to learn before getting approved for field work. Now go on and line up at the range and get warmed up. We’ll be running sims next.”

The junior agents dispersed to the range towards the back of the room. Frankie let out a breath and rolled his shoulders to let out some of the tension he had been carrying, then started heading for the range, eager to let off some more steam.

“Where do you think you’re going, partner?”

Frankie frowned, his eyes darting between you and Whiskey in confusion.

“I thought we were going to go shoot?”

Jack smiled then winked at Frankie.

“They’re warming up, you still have one more person to disarm, Flyboy.”

Frankie’s fingers twitched, and you could see that the exercise earlier had worn at his usual restraint.

“No lasso.”

Whiskey handed you his lasso, then unloaded his revolvers and passed you the ammo. He holstered his revolvers again and stepped into position in front of Frankie. You watched as a new kind of energy seemed to crackle between them, and some of the junior agents seemed to sense it, stopping to watch as well.

Whiskey was fast, but training at the boxing gym had helped Frankie with his speed. As Whiskey drew his revolver, Frankie sprung forward. He didn’t bother to grab the gun. Instead, he brought his fist down on the barrel, sending it skittering away. Whiskey’s fist connected with Frankie’s side, and you heard, rather than saw, Frankie’s reservations fall away with a snarl. He took hold of the inside of Jack’s blazer, grabbing the grip of the other revolver holstered there and made to pull it out and take the ‘shot’. Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Frankie to go on the offensive, but he found he was impressed. He liked a challenge. Before Frankie could draw the revolver from the holster, Jack grabbed his wrists and wrenched them down, then back up quickly to break Frankie’s hold, and then Jack threw them both to the ground. Both men recovered quickly, but in the chaos, the revolver had fallen to the ground and Frankie scrambled for it. Just as his fingertips touched cold metal, Whiskey’s whip flicked the revolver further away, and they closed the distance to grapple with each other again.

Your match with Frankie had been a well practiced dance, and this was too, in its own right. However, where yours had been fluid, Whiskey and Frankie were bordering on feral. For a moment, it appeared that Frankie had gotten the upper hand. Whiskey staggered backwards, about to fall, but as he went, he flicked his whip, the corded length wrapping around Frankie’s throat. He tugged, sending them both to the ground. Frankie grunted and struggled against the snare he was in. Whiskey wasted no time in scrambling up and pinning Frankie, his knee to the pilot’s back. Frankie continued to struggle until Whiskey leaned down so that only the other man could hear.

“Easy now, Tiger, save your strength for tonight. You did good.”

Frankie relaxed under Jack’s weight and nodded. Whiskey got off of him with a grunt and unwound the corded length of the whip from Frankie’s neck, then pressed a button on the handle to recall it. He helped Frankie up and dusted him off a bit.

A few of the junior agents were still watching in awe. It was rare to see a senior agent like you or Whiskey truly need to put some effort in, and to see it twice in one day was something else entirely. You walked over to the two men and put your hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“You did great, Fish, nice to see you let loose for once.”

He scoffed good naturedly and swooped to pick his hat up from off the ground.

“You guys had quite the audience while you were at it, too.” Your smile was barely contained as you raised an eyebrow at Jack.

This time it was Whiskey’s turn to scoff.

“Well, I hope they’ve been practicing. They’ll be running the sim after Frankie does.”

Whiskey patted Frankie on his shoulder then gestured for him to follow. He led him to an enclosed area that occupied the majority of the left side of the training complex. A small structure that looked like a house sat inside the enclosure, and you knew it was furnished to match whatever simulation scenario had been determined. Whiskey stopped at a table just outside of the enclosure and gestured to the rifle, combat knife, folder, and headset.

“Alright, Flyboy, I know you’ve done this sort of exercise before. Your brief is on the table there. Good luck.”

You and Whiskey walked a bit further along the enclosure to two screens. One cycled through a variety of camera angles while the other would connect to the headset once Frankie turned it on.

“You’re really having Frankie run the simulation?”

Whiskey nodded, “I didn’t have him help with the demo just to teach those newbies a lesson, darlin’. He’s been through hell, and I figured getting him to work through some of that in sparring and the sim would help. That, and, well… you can’t blame me for bein’ curious, Bourbon. Last time I got to see what he could do, we were a bit busy trying not to get shot.”

You can’t help but to chuckle and shake your head, your attention going back to Frankie as he geared up.

“Frankie turns into a different person on missions sometimes, used to scare the hell out of people on base who saw it. No one ever suspected it because he was always the quiet one, but he’s just as competitive as the rest of the guys on the team. He was just always scary good at keeping a level head and focusing on the mission. You’ll see.”

Frankie put on the kit provided for him then flipped through the brief before lowering the headset and advancing. The brief had been fairly simple: infiltrate the compound, rescue the target, and escort the target to the exfil location. They even provided a decent description of the target. The virtual course populated guards patrolling the 3 entrances. He opted for the path of least resistance with only 2 guards posted.

From the screen, you and Jack could see Frankie take a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing even as he crept towards the two guards. You knew it was because he was willing himself to let go, to let his instincts and muscle memory take over. He was lightning fast as his knife came out and he landed brutal and precise fatal blows to the targets on the screen. In a normal situation, he would hide the bodies but the miracle of technology meant he didn’t have to. It was beautiful in a devastating way to watch Frankie move with such confidence, stealth, and precision. He peered around a hallway, noting the sudden influx of guards and catching a glimpse of red at the end of the hall. The brief had indicated the target would be in red, and it made sense that there would be more guards to ensure the target didn’t run off. He counted five hostiles in the hallway.

Five guards, five bullets.

Once he had downed the hostiles, Frankie stepped through the hallway, catching a glimpse of the target and swore at how cliché the scenario was. The brief had just said the target had last been seen wearing red.

“¡Me están jodiendo! ¿En serio? ¿Una mujer en un vestido rojo?” [They’re fucking with me. Really? A woman in a red dress?]

You could both hear Frankie through the mic link in his headset, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It quickly died as you and Whiskey tensed. The woman in red was a decoy, one that statistically caught the majority of users by surprise.

“Ma’am, are you-” She moved just barely and he saw the glint of where a gun was holstered. Frankie didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he fired a shot to her chest and grumbled to himself before moving on. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken him that long to figure it out.

Whiskey whistled, thoroughly impressed. It wasn’t long after that Frankie found the real target and reached the ‘exfil location’.

“Damn, sweetheart, you sure picked a good one.”

He winked at you, and you grinned back as Frankie pulled off the headset and his kit, then walked over to you.

“Alright, agents! Catfish successfully completed the sim in 15 minutes, that’s your time to beat!”

A chorus of groans echoed in the training room. Whiskey ignored them and clapped Frankie on his shoulder.

“You did good, Flyboy, really set the bar high. Most people get caught up by the decoy.”

Frankie’s chest puffed out a little at the praise, but he was soon shaking his head. Before he could deflect the compliment, Whiskey squeezed his shoulder.

“Feeling hungry, Flyboy? Figured the three of us could grab a quick lunch before Cran steals Bourbon here away from us.”

“Yeah, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you to keep me busy like that.”

Vermouth entered the training room, and you waved him down.

“Hey, Vermouth! Watch the junior agents for us. Whiskey’s just got them running the sim. We’re going to go grab lunch!”

Without waiting for Vermouth’s answer, you grabbed Whiskey and Frankie’s hands, dragging them out of the training room and to the elevator.

“There’s a deli not far from the office we can walk to, and it’s late enough that we should miss the rush.”

Walking arm in arm with both of your boys, you could think of very few things better than right now. You didn’t care that you were in the middle of downtown New York. All that mattered was Whiskey on your right, and Frankie on your left.

Frankie did his best to relax and not let his anxiety and internal struggles get the best of him. Whiskey’s words echoed in his mind: “When it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it.” That was a lot easier said than done, but he was working on it.

You were right, the timing made it so that you had missed the lunch rush. You all ordered your food, Whiskey stepping in to pay with a look that silenced both you and Frankie, then you all went to sit down.

Whiskey practically sprawled in his chair, his legs encroaching your space under the table and Frankie’s space next to him. Frankie sat somewhat stiffly but the more he ate, the more he seemed to relax. You nudge his foot with yours playfully to grab his attention.

“How’s your back? Mr. Ya-no-soy-joven.”

The three of you laughed, and Frankie shook his head with a wide grin on his face.

“I’m not! Gotta leave that shit for the young guys who think they’re invincible.”

“Young guys like Davis?” You shot back, smug on Frankie’s behalf.

“Cocky kid had it coming.”

There was no anger in Frankie’s eyes, only the slightest lilt of mirth in his voice as his gaze met yours, then Whiskey’s. Whiskey leaned forward and barked a laugh while patting Frankie on the back.

“He sure did. The lot of them were in need of a reality check. That’s why Champ specifically likes to have me or Bourbon take at least one pass at our junior agents. After all those hours spent training, they tend to forget that there are much bigger fish out there.”

Conversation flowed easily between them for the rest of their lunch. It reminded Frankie of the prior morning, when they were enjoying breakfast and everything just felt right. It felt as if all of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and this time, this time, it didn’t feel fleeting.

Walking to the office was much more comfortable than the walk to the deli had been. You noticed that Frankie was far less stiff under your touch on his arm, even leaning into you occasionally. You parted ways in the elevator. You were heading to the lab to play guinea pig for Cranberry, and your boys were headed upstairs to Whiskey’s office. Frankie seemed hesitant to let you go, and you did your best not to spook him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Given everything that had happened, things needed to be almost wholly in Frankie’s court, at least until he was more comfortable around you. You had certainly noticed, however, how easily Frankie and Whiskey seemed to allow each other into their respective spaces. The elevator doors closed behind you as you strode down the hall. You were glad that they were comfortable together, though. It had definitely been a concern of yours, considering their respective pasts, but you also thought that there was the potential for them to relate and understand each other better than most.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, and as directed, Frankie remained Jack’s shadow. Jack did his best to keep from laughing when 5pm rolled around and Frankie began to subconsciously bounce his knee. He was scrolling on his phone, lower lip pulled between his teeth and brow furrowed as he tried to focus on whatever was on the screen.

You knocked on Jack’s open office door, raising an eyebrow when you saw Frankie startle at the sound. He wasn’t usually this jumpy. Jack’s gaze met yours, and you could see the amusement and mischief that bubbled in his eyes.

“Hey there, darlin’, you getting ready to head out for the night?”

“Just about, wanted to come see my boys before I do.”

Frankie’s knee stopped bouncing at your words, his phone falling into his lap as he looked up at you. You motion for him to scoot over a bit as you sit down on the couch next to him and rest your chin on your hand.

“We’re still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”

You posed the question to the room in general, even though the three of you knew that it was really directed towards Frankie.

“Uh yeah, I’m-I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow,” Frankie says after clearing his throat and gives you both a shy smile. Leaning over, you take his large hand in your own and give it a squeeze.

“Great!” Standing up from the couch, you smooth your clothes, give Frankie a kiss on his cheek, and then kiss Jack. “I’ll find us a place, and we’ll figure it out more tomorrow. Night, Frankie. Night, Jack.”

A minute later, you’re gone, and suddenly there’s nothing keeping Frankie’s mind off of the time, which is painfully close to 6pm, when Jack said he’d be done with work. The moment the clock turned that final, eternal minute, Frankie sat up straight, attentive, and alert as his eyes watched Whiskey.

Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching, then relocated next to Frankie on the couch.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything tonight, Flyboy. If you feel like you’re not up for it, we’ll just grab dinner and head home.”

Frankie shook his head and took a steadying breath.

“No, I want this. I-I could really use it, Jack.”

Whiskey nodded, eyes wandering over Frankie as he adjusted on the couch.

“Alright, I use the green, yellow, red system. You need me to stop for whatever reason, call red, and that’s it, no questions, no hard feelings or fuss. I’ll get you cleaned up and help you come down. Sound good?”

Frankie nodded, his tongue suddenly thick and his mouth dry in anticipation. Jack tutted.

“I need you to use your words, Flyboy.”

Frankie swallowed, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“I understand, s-sounds good.”

“Good. Now…” Jack pulled a small pad of stationary paper and a pen from the side table. “I want you to write out what you’re ok with and any hard or soft limits you have.”

Frankie nodded, then took the pen and paper and began writing.

[click for better quality]

A blush took hold of Frankie as he handed it back.

“It’s what I can come up with off the top of my head, for tonight at least. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up though.”

Jack’s eyes were dark as he perused the list, looking up from the paper to Frankie, he stood up with a smile.

“C’mon Flyboy… we’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Christmas at the Hoods

You escape your family by going home with Calum to Australia for the holiday. And the escape is necessary, but at the end of it, you’re reminded that sometimes family is chosen rather than given.

Reader Insert. Fluff a little bit of angst. You just a perfect amount of tear your heart out but then put it back like nothing ever happened.

CW: Death of a parent, strained family relationships.

Enjoy my masterlist.

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__________________________________________

You stare down at the text from your mother. Are u coming home for Christmas? The truth is--no, you don’t want to come home. Home is too stiff, reminds you just how much you don’t fit. And maybe it’s just you, you thinking that you won’t ever live up to their expectations of what your life should be like, and maybe it’s not fair to them. But given all that, you still don’t want to subject yourself to that awful feeling, the squirming in your spot wondering how long is appropriate for you to stay before you dip the family pretend bonding.

You don’t want to go home. But you don’t have an excuse not to go. You sigh and place your phone face down on the counter. Ice clinks around in the glass that Calum sets down in front of you. Over the speakers faintly, you hear the twang and kick of guitar as Carla Thomas sings her conversation with an imagined other. At Christmas time, Calum gave you control over the speakers whenever you come over. He liked the Christmas music you had saved and even if he didn’t always get full on decorations the music helped the holiday feel a bit more real for the time you were over at least.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “That had to be the heaviest sigh I’ve ever heard.”

“My mom,” you reply, unlocking your phone and showing him the text. “I can’t exactly say, ‘No, I don’t have any plans. But I don’t feel like pretending to care so I won’t be coming home.’ Wouldn’t go over nicely.”

Calum stares down at the text. The exchange previous to this was a Happy Thanksgiving text that you replied to and prior to that it seems like the conversation was just your mother updating you about the changes she was making to the home office. To which you only replied with ‘Pretty!’ but nothing more. He always suspected you and your family weren’t that close. You talked pretty highly of your dad, but he passed away a couple years ago. And you and your mother just didn’t click. Any sort of sustained interaction always seemed to go south. He just hadn’t had a clue just how sort you kept your conversations with your mother.

He had plans to go home to Australia. His sister was flying in too, the first time he wouldn’t have to split his Christmas vacation time between London and Sydney. Calum knew for sure that Luke was going home to Australia too. He wasn’t sure about Michael, though if previous years proved to be any sort of pattern, Michael would be spending Christmas with his partner’s family. Ashton seemed to be tentatively planning spending New Years in Australia at the very least. Sure you had other friends but given the holiday, he suspected that they might be traveling home or spending time with their families.

“Come with me to Australia,” he offers.

“You leave in a week, tops? The cost of that ticket on it’s own is going to be fucking awful.” You take your phone as it’s handed back over, but you only focus in on him. There was no way he was serious about an offer like that. There was no way he was getting a roundtrip ticket for you under three grand. Tickets for that kind of travel months in advance were easily a grand or more. So there was no way Calum could guarantee a ticket for you round trip in a week for a reasonable price.

“I always told you I was going to take you home with me one of these days,” he counters. “Show you those Sydney streets I grew up on.”

You laugh at the way he bobs with his fists in front of his face like a boxer in the middle of the ring. “Yeah, when we could both plan it out and I could at least pay for my own airfare. I can’t Cal. I appreciate it and you. But that’s too soon and I can’t have you dropping money like that on me such short notice.” You take the glass from the counter and spin around in the barstool before traveling to the couch.

Calum drops his arms and follows behind. He’s not worried about money. That’s nothing. “I can’t leave you alone for the holidays. I know going home would just be rough right now. I’d-I’d come with you if you wanted.”

“Oh my god, Calum, no. Go home. You haven’t seen your mom and dad in ages. I’ll be okay.”

“If I cancel I can still get a voucher for another time,” he offers and settles onto the ottoman in front of you.

“Go home. See your parents. Give them a hug. Fucking hell, I’m not worth canceling a trip over. I’ll suffer through this Christmas like I have every other Christmas.”

With a tap to your knee, Calum shakes his head. “My friend absolutely cannot spend Christmas miserable. I won’t have it.”

You shake your head. It’s not like you haven’t had to spend every other CHristmas miserable--what’s one more to the list? Calum looks to the coffee table and spies his phone. He stretches out for it. This would be embarrassing to admit. He wasn’t going to do it like this. In all actuality, he had meant to ask you last week. But you had to out of town for a conference. He hadn’t realized the conference was this late in the year but it was one that you had been trying to get into for years, so when you landed the opportunity, Calum knew you’d take it in a heartbeat.

You take hold of the phone as it’s handed to you. “What’s this?” You ask but Calum remains silent and you glance down to the phone to see it opened to an app. “Why am I staring at trip information?”

“It’s because I bought two round trip tickets,” he returns.

“What do you mean you bought two tickets?”

“One of those is for you. If you want to go.”

You drop his phone into your lap and push to the edge of the seat. “When the hell did you buy these tickets?”

“A couple months ago. I knew the holidays were always a little rough for you.” He shrugs. “At least you won’t have to lie to your mum now.”

“Calum you are the most insane person I’ve ever met and I’ve lived with myself for a while now. When the fuck were you going to tell me?”

“I had plans to last week. But I remembered you were going out of town for that conference and I wanted you to focus on that since you had to present and be on a panel too.”

“How fucking early do I need to wake up?” you asks.

“I-I figured you come over the day before, sleep over and then I’d drive us to the airport.”

“It’s summer in Australia right now, correct?” He nods at your question. “Beaches?”

“If you wanna go, sure.”

“Do I get to say that I’m being kidnapped for Christmas?”

“If you really want to phrase it like that.”

“I’m in,” you agree and Calum smiles, wrapping his arms around you as you fall into him in a hug. “Thanks, Cal.”

“Of course,” he returns softly. He’d do anything for you, or just about anything if he’s honest. You matter to him and even if he does have to kidnap you for the holidays, he’s happy to do it if it means you won’t be miserable.

A couple hours go by and you head home, now having to start packing for the holiday trip with Calum. As you sit on the floor in front of your suitcase, you pick up your phone. You aim to go the weather app and see what it’s like in Sydney right now. But the text notification from your mom still lingers on the messages app. You tap on it and reply. No, Mom, sorry. Going to visit Australia for Christmas.

Who’s in Australia?

Calum’s family is there.

Who’s Calum? Is that the boy you talk about in the band?

“Fuck,” you mutter, realizing there were two ways this could go. You hadn’t ever really talked about your friends with your mother. Your dad knew and he filled her in a little bit, but even still you didn’t tell him a lot before he died. Mostly because you were afraid. What would happen if you told him everything and you needed help and he died? He’d be the only one to know and then he’d be gone. You’d have no one. So you told him half of everything. You told him about the band and some of your friends and you told him that you were doing okay. But you didn’t tell him that you were finally starting to figure what what you were meant to be doing on this earth. You didn’t tell him that you were dating around. Your dad only knew half the truth and now you realized all he could tell was half your truth to your mother. He could only convey what he knew and your mother didn’t always listen too well. She always got into her head what she wanted to hear and that’s the version she went with.

You can almost imagine your mother now, sitting on her couch tapping at the screen of her phone with one finger and looking up to the kitchen where your dad would usually be--and here, she would call out to your dad to ask Do you know about this Calum fella? They ever talk to you about ‘im? And your dad would reply in some sorts clipped and in half truths, Yeah, they’re friends or something. He’s got a good head on his shoulders from what I could tell. Because that what your dad would always say about any of your friends, that they always had a good head on their shoulders because he trusted you.

Your dad told you once that he said they always had a good head on their shoulders because you had a good head on yours and you’d never be friends with anyone that didn’t match morals like yours. He knew you’d never get mixed up in something that you couldn’t see yourself out of because he had raised you, because he had to trust you now; his fears couldn’t stand in the way of you living your life.

If you could tell your dad the whole truth, you would. You would tell him the first year after his diagnosis you lost yourself. You’d tell him that Calum had found you more than once on the edge of something dark and secured you to his chest for nights on end. He’d take you the studio with you just so you wouldn’t be alone. You’d tell your dad about the times you cooked all his favorites just so your house smelt of him. You’d tell him that even though you and your mother fought and you felt like you were always at arm’s length with some family, you always loved him. You’d tell him everything in full detail so that when he died, he would die knowing fully.

Yeah, you start typing to reply to your mother’s question, he’s the guy in the band.

Enjoy. But you should see family during this season too. Remember the ones that have been with you through thick and thin.

You don’t respond to the text. More than half of your mom’s side didn’t show up to the funeral. They never liked your dad all too much and you were slowly uncovering why. But no matter the reasons, it hurt. It hurt to walk with your mother down the aisle of that church to the funeral procession and seeing a halfway empty church because her side hadn’t supported the marriage. Your father was dead and the least they could do was show up to a fucking funeral. There’s no thick or thin in that, just them.

Another text buzzes through your phone. It’s from your aunt, on your dad’s side. We’re loving the pj’s! Nana’s rocking the new slippers and everything. Take care and rest. Wanna come by for New Years? We may be old but we can still keep up!

You laugh at the photo of your grandmother, sleeping as she sits on the couch, bundling up in the robe you also ordered for her. The new slippers are almost falling off her feet. That’s keeping up if I’ve ever seen it, you return. I might come by a little after New Years but I’ll bring the wine--you just bring the chips and dip. Going out of town for a little bit.

No worries! We’ll see you then. Chips and dip are stocked. Don’t you worry. Enjoy!

There’s a twinge--you almost want to stay just for them. But nothing feels the same anymore if you’re honest. When you hang out with your dad’s side of the family, there’s a hole. His seat is way too empty, even if you sit in. There’s no one to joke around. Your grandmother has no one to pass on her list of chores too besides finding people in town to help her with. And it’s not the same. They don’t laugh when she hands it over. They don’t joke that they only had a son just so he could do all the house repairs, or lawnmower repairs.

It has to be hard for them too. It’s all around just not a great time. But then in your peripherals you see your halfway packed suitcase, the swimsuits you’ve rolled up and tucked into one of the mesh pouches. Was this running? Or was this healing? Was going all the way to Australia just an escape? Maybe it was all three, but it was running into an escape but on the other side, there was some healing in it too. You continue packing, pulling out some loungewear and figuring how many pairs of jeans to include on this trip too.

You feel silly in your sneakers and leggings as more people filter into the terminal area from TSA in bulky coats. But Calum’s dressed roughly the same next to you, only in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Your phone shakes in your hands. Let me know when you land, your mother requests in the text.

Will do.

“Do your parents know I’m coming?” you asks, suddenly remembering that you will be in their place for three weeks.

“They know,” Calum returns, slouching down in the chair. “Trust me. Mum keeps asking me if you have any food allergies or dietary restrictions. And everytime I answer, she asks if I have checked in with you recently about it. And I have a feeling if you suddenly sprouted some new allergy, I would know by now.”

“That’s how moms are,” you laugh.

“Don’t be surprised if you find your favorite snacks just chilling in the kitchen.”

The thought of Joy going out of her way to find out via Calum about your favorite snacks and to only have them just in her cabinets or pantry makes you laugh but deeper than that you feel touched, chest warming just a little at the thought that she’d do something above and beyond. You slouch down to match Calum and rest your head onto his shoulder. “Is your childhood bedroom still embarrassing?”

A soft exhale of laughter pushes through Calum’s chest. “No, not too embarrassing anymore. Some of the posters are still up and mum’s changed the bedding for sure. A few of my things are tucked into the closet. But Mum’s said she’s been going through things in the house slowly so maybe she’s put more things on display just to set me up.”

You nod. “I imagine there are going to be lots of sports posters.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Calum chimes, resting his cheek on your head. “I was supposed to be the sports kid. I mean, I was the sports kid for a really long time.”

“Then you found out you had those pipes,” you laugh, tapping on his chest.

“Yeah, then I realized music was a thing. Mali used to blast R&B and I mean blast it. But she’s always had great taste in music so it was never like the songs were bad. They were just loud. Sometimes I’d stay with Michael for as long as I could. Not that I didn’t want to be home, I just wanted to save my ears for a little bit before Mali and Dad would take over.”

“Your dad sings?”

“He’ll tell you only a little bit. But yeah, he sings.”

“So it’s a family trait!” you laugh. “A long line of singers.”

“Mum would disagree with you.”

You glance down and look at the initials inked into his skin. You brush your thumb over Joy’s. You had only heard about her. Once you saw her. Calum was calling home when you dropped by unplanned. It was quick, you waved at her from his computer but mostly you hang around in the kitchen, petting Duke as he wrapped up the call. From the way he talks about her, you know he’s close to his family. You know being away from home is hard sometimes for him. You’ve talked to Mali more, caught Calum a few times FaceTiming her too, or meeting her when she visited LA for his birthday. You know about his Dad too. Haven’t met him yet, but you’ve seen him when you watched the ARIA’s one year and he dad popped up in the crowd while the band performed. You screencapped the moment and send it as a reaction photo to Calum whenever he shares good news. You’re sure he must be sick of it, but he never says anything about your habit.

“There’s a little shop not too far from the house. I used spend hours to looking at all the trinkets. I think you’d like it,” he admits quietly.

“Yeah, I’d be down for that.”

“But first, there will be food,” he laughs just as the speakers overhead crackle to life and the voice faintly reminds everyone of the boarding procedure. You can Calum both stand, slinging backpacks onto your shoulders as you want for them to call group one to board. “Lots of food.”

“I’m ready,” you return.

Sleep on the plane isn’t all that restful, but you take it in stride though you manage to make progress in your book. Halfway through the flight, Calum holds out one of his earbuds to you. “You’ll like it,” he urges and you take the bud placing it into your ear.

Somewhere between the songs that Calum plays and the movie you’re not fully paying attention to, sleep claims you once again. And you let it hold you well past the light layer of sleep you had the first time. Sleep lays claim to you, holding you deeply into its grasps. You only find yourself waking up when the lights on the plane lift just a little and it breaks through your lashes and Calum shakes you awake. The two of you climb from your seats, backpacks on shoulders and wind through the airport to baggage. Thanks to the cat and dog luggage tags you bought, spotting your and Calum’s luggage is easy. Calum easy snatched the cartoon dog but you didn’t put up a fight. You let him have it, especially since it looked slightly reminiscent of Duke.

As you gather your luggage, you hear a voice from behind you. Calum turns to the sound of it immediately, his hand leaving the handle of his suitcase. You grab it for him and watch him, hearing his laughter escape him, as he runs up to his mother. “Mum,” he laughs, “hey!”

The hug looks bone crushing, only the hug a mom can give that even if it shouldn’t be tight is tight because there’s nothing like the squeeze. “Oh, my boy,” she grins. It lights up her whole face and you stand, just behind them, a couple feet off, both suitcases in front of you.

Joy spots you and the grin grows brighter. She releases Calum and shuffles up to you, arms still opened wide. “Hi! Look at you,” she greets. You immediately step out from the luggage. She’s warm and taller than you imagined as you hug her. She gives you a squeeze and your eyes water just a little. There’s something to the embrace that makes your chest tight and you find yourself clinging a little tighter to her too as she runs on about how late it is, and how hungry and tired you both must be. She keeps you close, an arm around your shoulders, hand splayed across your back. Joy pinches Calum’s cheek and wraps her other arm around his waist.

“C’mon, c’mon,” she urges. “David’s with the car. But I just couldn’t wait to see you both. Oh, it’s so good.”

Even as you exiting the plane it shocked you just how bright in the day it was still. But when you look down at your phone you realize you’re almost a whole day ahead, now standing in the middle of the afternoon, as if you somehow only flew a few hours instead of half the day. Calum’s dad is not parked too far from the entrance. As the three of you approach, he runs up some of the way with a large smile. “Aye!” he laughs, hands clapping Calum on the back. “Look at you!” “I swear I haven’t gotten any taller, Dad.”

“Coulda fooled me,” David returns. “Now,” he laughs, pointing to you. “I heard you got dragged along. Did ya put up a fight?”

“Less of a drag, more a kidnapping,” you return but step into the embrace with a laugh.

“Next time, next time, you’ll go a couple rounds with him, right?”

You nod. “Yeah, next time.” You don’t know if it’s going to be a next time but the idea sounds nice. Calum and David load up the suitcase into the trunk before all four of you slip into the car--you and Calum in the back.

“Hope they haven’t scared you off,” Calum whispers to you. You shake your head, mouth opening to say more but then David pipes up from the front seat. You almost don’t catch what he says, but Joy and Calum respond, so you stay quiet with a bit of a nod and watch the lights fade behind you as you travel down the streets. You make sure to text your mother that you arrived safely.

Calum’s room isn’t so bad, like he figured. Though you do almost wish there were a few more embarrassing posters on the wall. No sooner than the two of you can slip bags off and get out of shoes, a knock sounds from the door. It’s Joy, peeking her head inside. “Calum knows this, but you’re free to whatever’s in the house to munch on. I think there’s a few beer already cold too. But,” she waves her hand a little as if dismissing the thought. “either way, whatever’s there, you’re welcome to take.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hood.”

“Joy, call me Joy.”

“Thank you, Joy.” She nods and then slips back out of the room.

“They’ll be like that for another couple of days, but don’t mind them.” Calum shows you were the linen’s closet is and where the bathroom is too. “If you wanna shower first, I’ll whip up some snacks.”

“Oh, that’s some hard work putting together some snacks.”

He glares at you, throwing a towel at your head. You manage to duck it though it does land on your shoulder. You laugh as he flips you off and then heads to the kitchen. You head back to the room and grab a different set of clothes. It takes a moment to get the water right but you keep the shower as short as you can and slip into the clean clothes.

You return to the kitchen and find Calum with a plate of various chips, fruit snacks, and a small section of meat and cheeses out. He cracks open a beer just as you pad into the kitchen. “Want one?” he asks, but you decline the offer.

“It’s cozy,” you say softly looking around the living room and kitchen of the house. Even Calum’s room teleports you. You’re not sure where just yet, and even though it’s obviously a whole different continent there’s something about the house, about seeing Calum’s family so visibly happy to have him back home and the genuine smiles that feels like a warm blanket straight from the dryer. It envelopes you.

Calum shrugs a little. To him, it’s just familiar and a tad foreign. Like he can’t remember if the paintings are the same ones from his last visit but the pictures of him and Mali have never changed. The family vacation photos still line the walls too--unwavering it seems even against all of his mum’s decorating attempts. “Once Mali comes into town, it’ll feel complete,” he states. You wonder how any of this could feel incomplete, but don’t voice that curiosity.

Calum runs up to shower next and in the middle of your munching, Joy returns to the kitchen too. “I’m surprised you’re still standing upright.”

“Oh I could fall over at any point. Keep an eye out.”

Leaning into the counter she nods. “Time zones are killer. I’d say try to make it through as much of today as you can and then zoink out later on. Might be easier to adjust to the time that way.”

“I’m hoping,” you say.

“Calum told me you went to a conference last week. How’d that go?”

“It went well. Slight tech issues with my presentation but we managed to pull through unscatched after that.” You talk a little bit more about it, but are aware that you feel like you're rambling. When you ask her a few questions, she’s more than willing to answer them but she keeps them short and instead asks you more questions too.

“As the best friend, I feel like I need embarrassing material. Do you have photos of baby Calum?” you ask after a bit.

“Of course I do. He asked for some for a video once and I scanned over the most neutral ones. But if you want embarrassing photos, I got ‘em,” she laughs, wiping the salt off her fingers from a chip and waving for you to follow her.

Calum returns the sound of laughter and you cooing about something, he thinks you might’ve mentioned chubby cheeks and he knows without a doubt it’s him. “If you are going to embarass me I’d like to be in the room,” he states, seeing the photo album open on your lap. He steps to the arm of the couch you’re near and watches you flip through a few pages. You pause at a couple and pull your phone out to snap a few pictures of the picture. He doesn’t miss the several messages still lingering on your notification screen from your mother.

It’s over dinner that Joy suggest putting the tree up over the weekend, since Mali will be in town at that point too. No one objects to this plan and the latter half the week you and Calum spend mostly trying to adjust to the time change, though Calum seems to be having an easier go of it than you. Mali is licked up from the airport and you linger behind knowing that there’s not quite enough space for all three of you in the seat. It’s a little strange to be lingering around in Calum’s old room at his mum’s house but it’s not to bad. You take in all the sports posters, notice some medals and trophies still hanging around to otherwise bare shelves. Among them are some photos too--mostly of Calum and the guys. A few of some people you’ve never seen before and you assume they’re friends from soccer, or other sports along the way.

The sound of laughter echoes around you. Though you do hold onto one photo of Calum. He’s in a jersey, arms thrown over the shoulders of two other boys. They smile wide and big at the camera. The grassy fields hold blurry people and you like to imagine in that blur there are parents hugging kids, or kids running to their parents. There are coaches, people shouting in those blurs. The sounds of feet on stair should break you out of your trance staring down at the photo and you hear more laughter too. But you continue to stare down at younger Calum.

Calum tries to catch onto Mali’s wrist. “Do not! God,” he huffs when she slips through his hold. She laughs, backpack still on and barrels past her old room to Calum’s. You’re standing halfway turned to the door, but still clearly engrossed in something.

“Hey,” Mali huffs out, slipping just inside the cracked door. “Have you found the good blackmailing photos yet?”

You jump just a little but lift your gaze and find Calum’s sister beaming brightly at you. “Hi,” you return with a laugh. “I found a few. Your mum broke out the photo album.”

“Good,” she returns. “Sorry for kicking you out of the arrival party. It’s not normally five of us.”

“No, no, it’s cool. I couldn’t necessarily swing a vote on voting Calum out, so, I just took that blow.”

She gives a light tuft of laughter and hisses just a little. “Yeah that’d be a little hard to swing. But I’ll teach ya a few pointers for next time.”

“I’d appreciate that,” you return and Mali excuses herself to drop off her bag. Everyone seems hooked on the concept of a next time. It falls easily from their lips and while you’ve enjoyed the time here thus far, next time isn’t on your mind. Honestly, you’re not sure what’s on your mind besides not thinking about the text messages you need to respond too. Most of them seem to be about making sure you’ve adjusted to the time difference, if you’ve seen anything exciting. And you want to tell her--but you know you’d most likely tell her half truths too. Possibly even quarter ones. So you’ve opted to tell her nothing really. It seems trivial to explain to her that you’ve gone out a couple times--to the beach and the shop that Calum mentioned earlier. Most of the time though, you spend with Calum going down his memory lane. You rode past the school’s he attended, saw all the spots he used to hang out. Those don’t feel like the spots your mother is looking for.

When the Christmas tree is unearthed and Joy brings out the decorations you don’t think about those text messages again. You instead help feed the garland around the tree to Calum who’s standing at the back of the tree and he passes it along to his mon and she passes it to Mali and Mali passes it back to you. And that’s the way it goes for the lights too. Once those are put up, you look over the bulbs that Joy has. Behind you Calum and Mali are already working to put the hooks through the box Joy approved. You’re trying to help her find the last box in that set.

“Short end, Calum. Short end is what you hook through the top of the bulb.”

“Which end is short then?” you hear him return.

“That end,” she laughs. “I’ll put the hooks. You put them on the tree. Don’t put the same colors close together. Space them out.”

“I can decorate a tree,” Calum states.

“Sometimes I wonder.”

You find the last box of bulbs in the matching set, under a layer of icicle like ornaments. “Found ‘em,” you tell Joy and she beams, stopping her work on the box she was digging in.

“Ah! I’m not sure how they got separated.”

“Someone packed them wrong,” Mali returns, focused in on hooks still. “Most likely,” she counters. You step over to her and help prep more ornaments. A few look homemade with popsicle stick and felt. You pause looking at them on the table.

“Made ‘em in primary,” Calum answers, picking up the ornaments you’ve already hooked. “I thought Mum would give up on bringing them out.”

“But I never have and never will,” she counters picking them up and proudly displaying them on the front of the tree.

Calum makes a show to wave his hands. “That.”

“You made them and I cannot not display them,” Joy laughs and takes the bulb you’ve prepped.

“I think it should be the star,” you tease.

“Do not give Mum any ideas,” Calum groans. “She needs zero ideas.”

“My dad would put mine near the star. I used to hate it too,” you offer.

“Because he was proud of them! See, it’s a parent thing,” Joy laughs, taking another ornament.

You don’t respond, giving a shrug. Maybe it’s a parent thing. And maybe it’s just a love thing, you think. Maybe putting your atrocious ornaments near the top was a way your dad was saying you were always near the top, he was always thinking of you first. When you blink the silver hooks blur for a moment and it hits you that you might be crying. So you blink again and the tears don’t completely clear.

Arms are around your shoulder and you think it’s Calum but as you turn into the embrace, you notice it’s Joy. “Hey, it’s okay,” she offers. She’s quick to scoot you over to the other end of the living room and hands you a tissue. “Do you want to keep on decorating? You can take a breather.”

“No, no, I’m okay.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Her hand runs a soothing line up and down your back. You can only nod. It takes another moment and a deep inhale before you find a resolve. Joy takes your spot hooking the ornaments and you hang one up on the branch. You’re not even sure if Calum and Mali noticed your quick time out, but they don’t seem to be visibly concerned. You finish the tree half an hour later--many ornaments had to rearranged after realizing the back hadn’t gotten nearly enough love. You snap a photo and you don’t think too much about sending it to your aunt and your grandmother, but you hover over your mom’s contact.

Would she think you’re betraying? Would she find some way to say that you could’ve been home decorating the tree too and that she could’ve used the help since Dad wasn’t around anymore? You don’t hit send. Instead you lock your phone, place it face down and ask Joy if she needs or wants any help cooking dinner. She waves you in happily, explaining the dish she’s preparing to you as you wash your hands. This is easy. This feels complete, listening to the sounds of the TV in the background. Knocks at the door don’t make your heart startle and you almost know, without looking, that it’s David. And he no doubts has an armful of things--food, drinks, and god knows what else.

“Do-do you mind me asking about your mom?” Joy brings up as you tend over your hot pan.

“I,” and all words have fallen from your brain. “I don’t know,” you answer. It sounds so stupid but it’s the truth. The whole truth. “I don’t know how I feel. I-I wouldn’t be upset, but there may or may not be a reason I’m hiding on the other side of the world.”

It’s a small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless that Joy gives. “You know, fair. It’s okay if you don’t know. Instead, we’ll knead dough,” she offers, “or whatever else we need to do.”

“I’ll take kneading dough.”

There’s a nod and a smile, an understanding that kneading dough is the best alternative. The sleeves to your hoodie start to slip down again and just before you can clear your hands from the flour to pull it up, two hands come from the side. Calum, you deduce. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Did Mum put you to work or did you volunteer?”

“Volunteered,” you answer and go back to kneading the dough. The fridge door opens and then closes a few seconds later.

“You’re a guest. You don’t have to you know?”

“I know. Just need to do something.”

“Besides not answering your mom’s texts.”

“Besides not answering my mom’s texts,” you agree. Calum reaches across the counter and grabs your phone. You gave him the passcode ages ago and shockingly he remembered it. “Gonna delete the embarrassing photos?” you tease. You already emailed yourself copies just in case you tried too.

“Nah, no need. You’d just find a way to get them again.” You watch him for just a moment open up the app and the picture of the tree is still loaded in. “Why didn’t you send this?”

“Because I didn’t want her bitchin’ to me about how I could’ve been doing that with my real family. I would rather decorate a tree with you and your family anyway. Just as real as anything else,” you huff out, pushing in a little harder into the dough.

Calum pauses for a moment, glancing over to you. He’s not even sure his ears actually heard what you are saying. “What?” he asks in an exhale.

“I’d rather spend legit any holiday with you.”

He stops you, a hand on your wrist. “Did-did you just admit that you’d spend any holiday with me and my family?”

“Do you want bread or not?” you ask and he releases your wrist. “But yes, I did admit it.” You look up from the dough, knowing you’ve worked well enough for you to be done. The Christmas tree twinkles from the corner and it’s nice to see a family together--there’s no arguments, no need to feel like you’re at arm’s length. The TV plays and it’s idealistic. It’s what you want, not the screaming that occurs on most holidays, no one too drunk off their ass, no one being kicked out.

“I like it here,” you admit softly. Christmas is about five days out and you still need to wrap Calum’s present. It’s currently hiding in your suitcase and you want to get something nice for his parents for hosting you, and you’re not entirely sure what to get Mali but you want to do something nice for her too. Calum doesn’t miss the way you stare, the longing in your gaze as you’re still knuckle deep in dough. “I could send the photos to Dad. He’d probably just send a thumbs up. But, still it would’ve been better.”

“Then send it to him.”

“Mom disconnected the line. I have no clue who has the number now.”

“Send it anyway. Whoever it is, probably wouldn’t mind.”

You shake your head and look down at the dough. It’s done and you place it back into the bowl. The idea is asinine to you. No stranger would be okay with getting a random text about a Christmas tree you decorated and whatever sob story you’d type out. Best not to bother a stranger. Even as Calum tries to urge you one last time, you don’t give in. You move about the kitchen as if you’ve always worked in and wash your hands. It doesn’t take you long before you settle onto the couch next to Mali.

I know this might be strange, Calum starts drafting. But my best friend lost their dad about two years ago and this is his old number (this is their number and they still has the number saved). I took them to see my family for Christmas since they and their mom and that side are in a rough spot. I say that like it hasn’t been years of a rough spot but they helped us decorate the tree. I don’t know who’s going to see this, if it’ll go through or not, but I’m hoping for a miracle, I guess, for kindness in the universe and kindness in a stranger. They just needs something good, so we hope you enjoy our Christmas tree. They told my mum about how their dad would put the homemade ornaments near the star. Needless to say my mum agreed with the idea. If you see this, and get the picture, I hope you have safe and happy holidays.

Calum doesn’t even think twice about hitting send on the message. He finishes pouring himself a glass of water and pour another one for you too. By the time he grabs a snack too your phone buzzes again. There’s a response from the number that once belonged to your dad.

Tree looks awesome, kid, reads the first message. And then another one follows it. Homemade decorations near the top are the only way to go. Hope your friend gets through the holidays safely, but with people like you in their life, we think they will. Happy Holidays and enjoy our tree too. A picture comes attached with it.

Calum leaves the response up. It works out perfectly that the first response sits directly under the picture Calum sent. The first part of the second text is still visible but he doesn’t worry about that. He taps on your shoulder. “The world’s not so bad after all,” he states.

It takes you a moment to realize who the message is under. And you know it’s not actually your dad. You know that line went cold months ago.Your dad didn’t call you kid too much else he was trying to annoy you. But it’s something about seeing a message from that number that makes your chest ache. For a split moment in time, he’s real again. A sob racks through your chest and you're quick to cover your mouth, aware that other people are around. “I should’ve told him so much more,” you gasp and another sob breaks the sentence up just a little at the end. But all you can do is stare at the response with blurry vision.

Calum wraps you into his arms, pulling you into his chest. “Hey, you can still tell him. Maybe not by texting this number but you can still tell him,” he whispers. And though you tremble against him, he manages to get you to the shelter of the stairs. You settle oddly on top of him, your legs draping over his and your cowered into his chest mostly. But you don’t object to the arrangement.

Joy places a box of tissues down next to you both and settles on the step just below Calum. Her hand is warm on your knee. “I thought you were kneading dough.”

You chuckle just a little but tremors still rock you. “Dough didn’t have a lot of resistance.”

She nods, tsking just a little. “Ah, next time I’ll have you knead two loaves.” Once she’s sure you’ve cried it all out, she leaves you be, though most of her comfort was soft reassurance and knee pats. But it’s just what you need.

Calum guides you upstairs and unearths his journal from his bag. Or at least a journal you think you’ve seen him writing in before. “I was going to give this to you on Christmas. But it sounds like you could use it now. Whatever you wanted to tell your dad, write it down. Pretend like your writing letters to him. I know know it might sound silly, but it helps me.”

The journal is leather, embossed on the front are your initials. It almost looks too expensive to even write in it, but when Calum hands you a pen you think you might explode again if you don’t get it off your chest. So you settle onto the edge of his bed, which is barely just enough space for two of you to sleep on during the night and tell your dad all the full truths. Everything you felt like he couldn’t take the grave, you spill onto the page.

Dad, It’s Christmas. Or it’s nearly Christmas. I’m in Australia with Calum and I’ve already had one emotional breakdown. So we need to reset the count on that one. It’s hard without you. Joy put Calum and Mali’s old homemade decorations near the star of the tree and all I wanted was to be six again and be up on your shoulders and have you force me to put my decorations up high on the tree for everyone to see. I used to hate it. When you did that. But now I miss it.

I miss a lot of things, I guess now. I miss being honest with you. I wasn’t very honest while you were dying. I was afraid that I told everything I’d be weak. That if I told you everything you’d take all the words with you when you died and I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else since it would’ve been one of the last things I told you. It all sounds silly now to write it down, but that’s what I thought.

Here’s the other half I never told you.

Calum lingers, sitting on the floor and finding one of his old guitars sitting on the floor tucked into a corner. He slides over, and places it into his lap before strumming mindlessly over it. The scratch of the pen is hardly audible as he strums but he can envision what it sounds like, see how fast you’re scribbling words down onto the page.

Later in the week, as you have Mali and Calum helping you find a gift to give their parents, you stop at one of the small shops in the mall. Mali’s wandered off to the far corner but Calum’s close next to you, glancing around the walls for something that looks remotely interesting and appropriate. The housewares all look too dated and Calum’s not even sure what his parents do and don’t have to even suggest something like this. But Mali thought it might be a good place to stop so the three of you stopped to look.

“Thanks,” you say to Calum, running a finger over a serving spoon. “For the journal. It helped a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” he beams at you. His attention is still filtering around the store. “I have no clue what to even suggest in a place like this for my parents. They’re not super into stuff like this.”

“You sure a Kiss The Cook apron wouldn’t do the trick?” you joke holding up the red and white apron.

“Hmm, afraid not,” he laughs. The two of you still wonder about the store and you find a couple cookbooks that seem interesting. One’s for cocktails and Calum says it’s a definite--his dad would enjoy flipping through it. Neither he or Mali had gotten one for him before, so it won’t be a duplicate.

“Your mom has a lot of photos you guys. You think she’d be into something like this?” you ask, pointing out to a few picture frames. They’re all collages, just arranged differently. Calum seems to be vaguely interested though Mali worries about the fact that she tends to keep them in a particular way.

“Could make one with the photos you’ve taken over this trip, she loves stuff like that and I’m sure she wishes she could get more photos of us now since we’re gone. We spend a day taking some photos in front of our old stomping grounds and I know she’d love it,” Calum offers looking over to Mali.

She shrugs. “That could work. Sure we can’t say it was from all of us?” she jokes.

“I wouldn’t mind, especially since you two would be doing some leg work in it,” you state.

“If we’re going to do it,” Mali counters. “Let’s go with this one.” She points to a wooden slab with rows of twine wrapped around and clasps that are wooden too where stock photos are currently pinned but it’s clear that you can add your own photos.

“This really blows my flowers out of the water,” Calum mutters, holding onto the paid for box of the wooden frame.

“You also got her the embroidered pillow,” you counter. The pillow has the coordinates of Sydney, LA, and London on it--for each of the cities they’re in respectively.

“True,” he nods. “But still,”

“If you don’t want--” you start but he cuts you off.

“Hey, no, I want to do this. Shush,” he laughs. “We gotta make another stop though. I’ve seen ads for those portable printers and can print photos and I don’t see either one of you with those old school polaroid cameras.”

“I’ll have you know,” Mali teases. But she interrupts her own joke as a ponderous hum falls from her. She rattles off a couple stores that could have it.

“Let’s give it a shot,” Calum returns. The first store is a bust but the second one has it. They grab one of the last ones off the shelf and scurry to the lines. They’re long and it’s no avoiding it two days from Christmas. The rest of the day, Mali navigates, pulling over into random parking lots and telling stories about their childhood.

You snap as many photos as you can. Some are more planned than others but it’s okay. You play with angles, flipping your phone upside to get some cool shots and you’re honestly impressed with the quality of just a cellphone camera. By the time it starts to get dusk, you’re half convinced your phone will alert you that you’re almost out of space. It’s not too hard to sneak the bags up to the bedrooms. You take up distracting Joy just a little as Calum and Mali book it up the steps.

“Oh, this reminds me,” Joy says standing right as Mali clears the first step. “If you need any sort of wrapping supplies they’re in here,” she directs you down the hall and you watch Calum and Mali clear into one of the bedrooms, you think it’s Mali’s before diverting your attention back to the wrapping paper.

“Thanks,” you nod at her. “I’ll be down in a few if you want help with dinner?”

“An extra pair of hands never hurt,” she counters with a grin and it’s become a tradition, or a thing at the very least that you help her with dinner and she’s given up on trying to shoo you out of the kitchen.

You take the stairs slowly, but you can feel the buzzing in your pocket. No doubt Calum bugging you relentlessly that you’re needed upstairs. You find them in Mali’s room situated on the floor as she removes the pictures from the frame and Calum seems to messing with the printer. “Thank you for joining us,” he teases. Music starts up and the door closes.

You settle on the floor next to him. “My job was to distract so that’s what I did. What do I need to do?”

“Pairs with BlueTooth, so I just gotta get this thing on.”

“Let me know when it’s up,” you return and then pull up the photos you took on your phone. Mali helps pick out which photos have to go onto the frame. It’s only a minute or two later that Calum tells you to make sure your phone has the BlueTooth turned on.

“You cannot use that,” he laughs, as the first photo prints out. “I look so dumb in that take.”

Mali laughs. “Oh, c’mon it’s a pretty shot.”

“Yeah of you,” he returns.

You swipe to the next photo and there are no photo blunders for either one of them so you print that one down. Some are in front of buildings that you’re not even sure could mean anything. A couple are of Calum’s old practice field for soccer--the same one from the photo you were looking at when Mali first arrived. There are a few of Mali in front of the place she sang to a large audience for the first time. There’s a picture of the Christmas tree as well--Mali and Calum are in the photo adding decorations to it. There’s one of you, in the middle of Calum and Mali, arms wrapped around each other. You’re laughing because even standing you nearly stumble just trying to shift your weight a little, but the picture is perfect as the sun just starts to step a little behind you.

With the last photo printed, you look over the arrangement and give your approval. “Did you remember to grab our wrapping paper?”

“Shit,” Calum sighs. “I’ll run to the car and grab it.” You nod and head back downstairs just in time to help Joy.

It’s late before another opening arrives for you three to place the gift under the tree and during this time you also add Calum’s and Mali’s gift to the bunch. You managed to snag some cool t’s with Calum’s help for her. She eyed them in your shopping adventure and carted them around the store before ultimately deciding to put them back. Calum stayed behind to grab them off the rack while you went with her to the next store.

Over mugs of hot chocolate--though the Australian heat doesn’t warrant it-- you, Mali and Calum sit on the floor in front of the tree. “It’s been nice to outnumber him,” Mali laughs.

“I’m already outnumbered with you and Mum,” he retorts.

“Yeah, but it’s Mum. She counts but like not really. Now you’re outnumbered by someone in our age range.”

Calum shakes his head. “If you say so. I’m glad Mum and Dad weren’t too weird about it.”

You know he hasn’t brought anyone home in a long time. And part of it is probably just time, but another part is deliberate but you don’t know why. “I’m sure they were starting to think I wasn’t real,” you joke.

“Haha,” Calum gently shoves your legs. “You’re a fucking comedian.” You snicker and take another sip from your mug. The night almost doesn’t feel like it’s slipping away as Mali and Calum take turns on the guitar. You climbed up onto the sofa at some point during the night, asbentedmindly playing in Calum’s hair. But somewhere in it the strumming, sleeps pulls you under, you felt your eyes blinking close but weren’t able to recall when the final blink took you full under.

You find yourself startled awake to the sounds coming from the kitchen. Mali’s asleep on the couch, facing the opposite away of you. Calum’s reclined against the sofa between the both of you but still sitting on the floor. There’s a faint light coming from behind you and you squint against it to see the kitchen light’s on. You settle back against the arm of the couch and let yourself fall into sleep a second time.

When you wake the second time, it’s to gentle shakes and you’re not even sure you had fallen asleep again. Until you find yourself stretching again and blinking back the light of the living room. Calum’s slumped to the floor. “No, five more minutes.”

Joy chuckles. “It’s your presents you’ve gotten open.”

“Hmm, maybe I’m awake enough for presents.” Presents are slow to be handed out, mostly to the three of you still trying to wake up. But Mali gets the first tear into the wrapping paper and beams over at you spying the two shirts.

Joy loves the pillow from Calum and the jacket from Mali. Calum gets a few things, most of them necessities but the socks are cool enough to put on immediately. Mali’s content with the clothes she’s received and the necklace. Calum thought about wrapping your journal as a joke but he hands you a tiny stocking stuffed with some candies, a cool pen, and some knicks knacks he found during some of the shopping adventures. David’s tickled as he flips through the cocktail recipes.

“What is this?” Joy laughs pulling on the wooden and twine picture frame ad she’s handed it.

“For you,” you answer. “A collective effort between the three of us.”

“But originally their idea,” Calum tacks on.

Joy looks at the three of you, unsure of what trick might be pulled. She unveils the first corner and pauses. “Seriously, what is this?”

“Just keep going Mum,” Mali counters.

Joy continues tearing at the wrapping paper and she gasps for a moment noticing the photos hanging from the pins. “No way,” she laughs, lifting it up to take a closer look at the photos. “No way,” she whispers.

“The pictures can be switched out, so you can frame some, or just rotate it based on the season,” you explain.

The tears collecting in Joy’s eyes don’t get past you but they do hurt just a little. In a good way. You hadn’t seen a teary eyed smile like Joy’s in such a long time you almost forgot how good it felt, but how much it hurt too.

“You did all this for me?” she asks.

“I had help,” you return. “But I wanted to do something or give you something nice for hosting me the past two weeks and agreeing to take on an extra mouth to feed. It’s a thank you.”

She gives you another one of those hugs that squeeze more than they should, more than thought possibly. You squeeze in return and though you feel a couple tears slip down your cheek, you aren’t so afraid of the emotion. It’s something like loved, maybe it’s understood. Quite possibly it’s just the feeling of being embraced without judgement or restriction. You’re not really sure, but you do know you like it.

“Thank you,” Joy whispers while still hugging you. She makes space for the frame almost immediately though it takes a little rearranging of the living room but she finds the space. You’re sucking on a piece of candy, looking down at your phone. You know your mother is still living in Christmas Eve and the only message she’s gotten from you are about you being safe and okay.

I would send this as an actual letter, but I worry from Australia to home would take too much time. So I guess this works as next best. I can only hope you understand.

The easy things: Australia’s been fun. Haven’t run into a spider as big as my head just yet but there’s still plenty of time. Calum’s family has been amazing. I helped with Christmas decorations. Joy and I are cooking buddies. If I never had to leave, I probably wouldn’t.

And on and on you go about the tails of this particular vacation before getting to the hard stuff, how it’s hard sometimes to be home because home feels empty and too far away and how it’s hard sometimes to feel like you fit in the puzzle of it all. You tell her how hurt you are seeing how her side paid the death of your father dust. How nothing’s felt right once and you don’t know what caused it. You don’t know how it started but all you do know is that when dad was around, when you and him had those quiet moments it was closest to right you had every experience until now--sitting in your friend’s childhood home in a whole different country, more than half the day ahead of your own family and watching someone else’s world that you know you’re not really apart of but somehow you fit even as a stranger.

There’s that nagging voice in the back of your head that tells you this could all go to shit. Your mother could read all this and blow her top. But at least she would blow her top knowing the truth and the whole truth at that--that you love your family for being your family but recognizing the detriment happening.

I need you to know Mom. Because Dad didn’t. Or maybe he did, but I know I wasn’t the one that told him. So I am telling you. You don’t have to like it. You don’t have to like any of this and I’m not asking you or telling you you have to. But you have to know the truth and I have to tell you.

Before I go, there’s a present for you. Hidden in the top box of Dad’s stuff in your closet. It’s only tiny pieces of me and him, of us, but I hope you enjoy it. I hope it provides comfort.

While you’re not the most crafty, you know your way around a sewing machine. You didn't keep nearly as many t-shirts from family vacations as you would’ve liked to, hanks to a couple moves. But you kept enough and you snagged a few of your dad’s t-shirts and some of his old flannels too. All together it made a decent sized blanket--it could’ve been larger but there were a few failed starts before you got the true hang of it.

You’re not sure the whole message will send correctly and you think maybe it should’ve been an email, but that feels even less personal. So you watch the message lift up, hover for just a moment before it settles down and just beneath it, Delivered, pops up. Immediately, you place your phone face down. A watched pot never boiled and a watched text is never actually read.

“Calum!” Mali laughs. Just behind you they go barreling past, through the living room and he tries to make an escape up the steps but she manages to lunge fast enough to take hold of the back of his t-shirt. “Drop the cookies and no one has to get hurt.”

“Never!” he cries in return. His attempts are half hearted and you can only giggle watching them. That in turn earns you target as a potential accomplice and he calls out to you to get you to take the cookies and make an escape.

You walk over, take the packet of cookies. They’re decorated for Christmas and you decide take one off the top is fair pay for whatever mess you’re stepping into. After your take the first bite of your cookie, you hand the packet over to Mali who happily release Calum to snag a couple. “Traitor,” Calum returns, but takes another cookie too.

“I got my pay,” you laugh, polishing off the one cookie in your hand.

David enters then, taking another cookie too. “I got mine too,” he laughs before disappearing again back down the hallway. There are a few things around the house he needed to repair and Calum had been helping him though you suspect more than helping, Calum was sneaking cookies and trying to hide them from Mali. You offered to help too, but David insisted that you actually take a rest at least once during this time away.

You manage to catch the buzz over all the laughter. You don’t think your mother could’ve responded that fast. It’s not possible. But you slip away from the group and grab your phone from the couch cushions. Your heart hammers against your ribs, you can feel the vein in your neck throbbing.

Thank you for the blanket. It’s quite lovely. Glad you’re enjoying Australia. I don’t know if I can say sorry and have it mean much. But in turn, thank you for telling me the truth. Somehow you expected this to be much more emotional, much more earth shattering. But tides don’t change in the blink of an eye and cities don’t build themselves in a day.

“We should have a board game night,” Mali suggests from behind you. “Dunno know. Not much will be open up for long.”

“I’ll kick your ass in Scrabble,” Calum returns, “Anytime.”

And just behind is all you’ve ever really wanted. But just in front of you is all you’ve ever had, your mother and the distance. Maybe it’s not a matter of what you deserve or what is actually yours by blood. Maybe it’s just time to admit that family is also chosen. And you did all you could with your mother. You told her the truth.

A tear splashes onto your screen and you wipe at your eyes quickly. When had those formed? They didn’t even sting that time or maybe they did and you just hadn’t felt it. You’re not sure. Her message doesn’t warrant a response. Though you do imagine for a moment, her curled up on the couch, your blanket across her lap as she snacks on pistachios and the fireplace blazes next to her. The TV is playing Polar Express, her favorite Christmas film. And if the scene is sad, your mother is sad. And if the scene is happy, your mother is happy. And you like it better that she is tethered to the film’s emotions rather than anything going on outside of it.

“You down for a board game night? If not, we can find something else.” Calum’s voice is close and you can feel just how close is he off to the side of you.

“I’m down for a board game night,” you nod. Your voice quivers just a little. Crying is exhausting and you’d wish you had nothing left, but there is always the dregs left. Just enough to make your cheeks wet.

“You good? What’s up?”

“Told my mom,” you answer truthfully.

He figures it didn’t go super well given your silence. “We can watch movies in my room then.”

“She didn’t threaten to blow up the country so I think we’re good,” you continue on. “But she loves her Christmas present. So I’ll take it as a win.”

“It’s the small victories.”

You nod, looking at the photos hanging right next to the Christmas tree. “Like kicking your ass in Scrabble,” you laugh. “I’m on Mali’s team.”

“Fighting words, those are fighting words. I brought you out here and you already turned over my cookie stash. Now you’re going against me in Scrabble! Really?”

“I’ve chosen you over and over,” you admit quietly. You’ve chosen him as a friend, and confidante and you appreciate him for being there. But you don’t say all that, instead you counter with, “But I think sometimes I should kick your ass in a game of Scrabble or too.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” he returns with a laugh.

“I am,” you state simply. “I am lucky.”

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scriptstructure · 3 years

Note

part 1 I have multiple alien planets, but the things is I want to to be similiar in earth as in 200 countries, 5000 ethnic groups, 6500 languages, varied climate/terrain/politics. Part of the story is still on earth and obviously as a whole, 99.9999% of stuff on earth isn't even getting used, but we know there is more and sometimes there are little hints. That is stuff we know from real life and generally doesn't need explanation. Example, a character says "We borrowed this from the Russians."

Part 2 Regardless of what is really important, what we know and doesn't need explanation is a lot because we figure readers generally understand--or they can google. Hell, there could even be lots of subtle culture references as well. Anyway, depending on the reader's knowledge, it can enhance the reader's understanding in various and subtle ways. But when I do things similiar in alien planets, it makes no sense and requires extra explanation to fill the details. So, basically useless.

Part 3 Thus it seems I'm unable to fully give the type of experience as when using earth as pretty much everything needs to be important to the story. Unless there's another way to do this so I can make my alien planets seem so much more than what's actually focused on without the needless exposition? It feels like at best I could try to mention a few things but it could never feel as vast as earth does. Perhaps maybe I just need numbers?

Reminder that if your question doesn’t fit in a single ask box, you should use /SUBMIT instead.

I have had a few questions in the past which are very similar to this one, [HERE] is about how to introduce invented elements of secondary worlds (stuff that doesn't exist in the real world but has been made up for the story), [HERE] is about how and why we might include extra details about the places that a character is visiting, [HERE] deals with establishing what a 'normal' day in an invented setting is like, and [HERE] is about ways of thinking about worldbuilding, and how much you need to know vs how much the characters know.

So it is a fairly common shortcut, in scifi writing, and scifi film writing in particular, to portray alien planets as kind of 'one thing' settings. Here is the desert planet, and there is the dessert planet, and over there is the Evil planet, and there's the cute jungle teddy bear planet moon. This can be useful if you're making a film or story where you just want the different worlds to work as shorthand for certain ideas 'shitty home world', 'the seat of democracy', 'the swamp where Yoda lives' etc.

But it is very simplistic, and obviously looking at Earth, as you've said, there's a vast array of different climates, cultures, people, languages etc. We do tend to simplify the way that we portray Earth in film and stories, as well--think about, say, Australia being largely signified by the Opera House/ Harbour Bridge, and the Outback™, or the UK being Big Ben and the houses of parliament, or the USA being a vast stretch of corn fields between New York and Hollywood.

So how do we effectively give the sense of a world being bigger than the particular spot that we happen to find ourselves in?

First off, you need to have background information about the world that you're building. If you know what the major cities are, what the main continents are, if your alien world has countries, or if it has a singular centralised system of government--or is it divided into city states? or is it divided into time zones? or is it divided into... etc

Think about how your characters conceptualise their world, and their place in it. Do they think about the world, with all its variety, as a single vibrant whole? Or do they think of 'us on this continent, and them over on that continent'?

How does trade work on this world? Do they have extensive trade networks among the various cities/ countries/ regions? Or do they rely on off-world suppliers for various things?

What kind of cultural exchange is common among these different areas, and what are the cultural touchstones that your characters might be familiar with, or interact with on a daily basis?

As with the examples I gave in the first linked post above, it is less about providing the readers with an exact view of how the politics and interactions of the various places function, and more about demonstrating what that means in practice for the characters.

Say there's a certain kind of fruit that is PROTAGONIST's mother's favourite, and she spends all day searching the hypermarket for one to surprise her mother with for her birthday, but turns out there's none of that fruit available because it's all from OTHER REGION, and there's a war on, or a volcano has erupted and interrupted trade, or the shuttle crews are on strike and so the fruit can no longer be transported down from the moon.

If your protag's favourite pop group is from a polar region and only produces music six months out of the year, because the other six months they have to work with their community to produce supplies for the long dark winter, that tells us something about the way that polar community is organised, and how it interacts with the rest of the world.

What else can we think about when constructing alien planets/ secondary worlds?

It can be difficult to think 'outside the box' of the culture that we're immersed in. It's very easy to slip into thinking that we're doing things the 'correct' way, and if someone else somewhere else does stuff different, that's weird, wrong, or sinister. Often it can be just a different way of doing things that gives the solution that the person is after.

I think it can be very helpful to read books about ancient history, especially stuff about societies that no longer exist, because a lot of the assumptions that we make about the way the world currently works are less useful when we look at ancient history. There are some extremely varied ways of approaching society and culture and a whole lot of stuff which isn't immediately obvious, but which we can understand by looking at the vast differences between ancient societies.

Well written history books can really help you get the sense of how societies form, and how culture develops, and some of the forces involved in cross cultural relations. Also, there are some great examples from the ancient world, of, for example, the various different Ancient Greek societies, and how each of them thought of themselves as 'doing culture the best', of their neighbouring hellenistic states of 'doing culture not quite as well' and of everyone who didn't speak greek properly as barbaric outsiders.

At the moment I'm reading Philip and Alexander: Kings and Conquerors by Adrian Goldsworthy, and I think one of the things that has struck me as super interesting is the difference between how the Greeks vs the Persians organised their societies, and the way that they thought about and approached warfare.

So what are the basic questions we're working with?

-What is the protagonist/ focalising character's relationship to the world? Were they born on-world? Are they adult settlers? Are they traders passing through? Has the character travelled to other places on the world, or have they mostly stayed in their home city/ area?

-How do the protag/ focalising characters think of the other places in the world that they are not currently visiting? (ie, I am in Sydney, Australia, what do I think of Boston, USA, or Paris, France? Big cities with a Reputation, I probably know something about. Small towns or cities I may or may not be familiar with, depending on my life experience or interests)

-How do the material goods which are needed for daily life pass around the world? Are certain goods only available from certain areas? Are there Events happening which may disrupt supply routes? Are there cultural elements which may cause friction in trade?

-What kinds of cultural export or exchange happen on this world? Is there a particular city which is well known for its entertainment production? (Hollywood, California--movies, New York City--the print publishing industry) Does this mean that portrayals of the rest of the world are skewed by the perspectives of that place? (Remember, Australia is just a bridge, an opera house, and red dirt!)

There's always going to be a gap between what your characters know, or are aware of, and what is 'actually' happening in the world of your story, but as long as you have the information decided, and can write the world consistently and with sensory and suggestive details, the reader can and will pick up the puzzle pieces and fit them together.

It's a complex problem, but it's one that can produce interesting complex settings.

I hope this helps!

#writing #worldbuilding #world building

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adenei · 4 years

Text

Finding My Way To You - Chapter 7

AO3 // FFN

Making Things Right

Hermione woke first the next morning, Ron’s arms still wrapped around her torso. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, replaying the previous night in her head. Girlfriend. She was his girlfriend now. It was everything she’d been wishing for, and she was determined not to muck it up.

She carefully extricated herself from his arms and got up to make breakfast. Hermione pulled out the bacon and eggs, and placed them on the counter. This couldn’t be so hard, right? She’d seen Mrs. Weasley cook them hundreds of times. I can do this, Hermione thought. She pulled out two pans, and began peeling strips of bacon out of the package and onto the pan. It took a few attempts at cracking the eggs before there were no shells to fish out of the bowl, but she was finally successful. Hermione mixed the eggs together and waited for the butter to heat up in the pan before she poured them in. It was when she popped a few slices of toast in the toaster that she realized things were starting to come together and she couldn’t quite keep up.

“Attempting to make breakfast this morning?” Hermione jumped at Ron’s voice when she turned around and saw him leaning against the entryway.

“Trying not to burn anything is more like it. I think I may be a bit over my head here,” Hermione admitted. “I guess I’m really not good at everything.”

“That’s not true, it just takes practice. Want some help?”

“Would love some,” she accepted his offer gratefully.

Together they worked in tandem, and Ron helped her make sure nothing burned. He flipped the bacon, and directed Hermione on when to start scrambling the eggs. At one point, she felt his arms wrap around her waist as he helped guide her when demonstrating the easiest way to flip bacon to avoid splattering bacon grease. Hermione felt her skin erupt in gooseflesh as shivers climbed up her spine. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her?

When they were seated at the table, eating the breakfast they’d made together, Ron spoke. “So I was thinking…”

“About what?”

“I want to take you out on a proper date today. Kind of like I tried to do yesterday, except you didn’t know.”

“Yesterday was meant to be a date?” Hermione almost dropped her fork at his confession.

“I know, barmy, right?” Ron shook his head.

“N-no, not at all. It was-” Hermione thought back on their trip to the museum and then lunch at the cafe. The flowers made even more sense now that she thought more about it. “It was really sweet. I don’t know how I didn’t notice.”

“So what about a do over, then? We can go back to the museum now that we’re not on a time crunch? And we can try another restaurant if you’d like?”

“That sounds wonderful. Though I was hoping there was one other thing we could do first?”

“Yeah, anything.”

“What do you think about inviting my parents here for dinner? I feel bad about how we ended things last night. I need to make things right with Mum, and I don’t think I can do that at their home.”

Ron waited to make sure she was finished. “Sure. We can find something at the grocer if you’d like? Or we could explore the other restaurants. Whichever you’d like. I know how to make Mum’s Shepherd’s Pie,” he offered.

Hermione’s face lit up. “That sounds perfect! I think there’s a bakery nearby and we could pick something up on our way back for pudding?”

“Sounds like a plan. So, should we get ready for our date, then?” Ron flashed his lopsided grin her way.

“Yes! I’ll write a letter inviting my parents while you’re in the loo? We can drop it off when we head to the museum?” Hermione asked as Ron nodded.

Finally, it felt like they were in sync with each other again.

~o~

The day played out as perfectly as it had yesterday. Hermione was ecstatic to explore more of the museum, and they spent a little longer so that Hermione could finish seeing all of the exhibits she’d missed the day before. They stopped at a different cafe for lunch, and enjoyed eating outside on the patio, watching other tourists and locals rush by on the busy sidewalks.

Ron saw Hermione’s eyes linger over the windows of the bookshop and he laughed. “Didn’t you get your fill yesterday?”

“Well, we were on a time crunch, you know. Do you mind if I go in for a bit?”

Ron shook his head. “I’ll go check the bakery down the street and I’ll meet you back here, okay?” She hugged him in thanks and kissed his cheek before disappearing behind the shop’s doors.

Ron had to remind himself to wipe the smile off his face as he walked to the bakery and picked out an assortment of custard tarts and chocolate cupcakes. He knew what his and Hermione’s favorites were, and he only hoped these would suffice for her parents, whom he knew were not huge sugar fans.

He walked out of the bakery, bag in hand, and stopped outside the florist’s shop before returning to the bookstore. He knew Hermione wouldn’t be close to ready to go, and he wanted to replicate yesterday’s date as closely as possible. The florist was ecstatic to see him again and asked how his ‘girl’ liked the assortment of roses. Ron’s ears turning scarlet was all the telling that the florist needed to know it had been a successful purchase.

“So are you here for red today?” he asked curiously.

“Er, yeah, actually. One red rose, I was thinking. Wrapped with some of that white filler stuff,” Ron said.

“Baby’s breath? Yes, of course! Let me prepare that for you. I’m so glad things worked out. Was a bit worried when I saw you with Mr. Granger yesterday. Glad it’s all sorted.”

“Do you know the Grangers well?” Ron asked curiously.

“Well enough. Hugo loves gardening as a hobby, so he comes in at least once a week to talk shop. He’s a good guy you know. Loves his daughter very much. And by the looks of it, so do you.”

“Er, yeah. You’ll put in a good word for me, I hope?” Ron chuckled.

“As long as you keep endorsing my business,” the florist let out a hearty laugh. “This one’s on the house, though. Now, don’t keep your girl waiting.”

“Are you sure?” Ron said, reaching for his wallet. He needed to give him something.

“Yes, I’m sure. Have a wonderful day, young man!” he beamed at Ron, who thanked him profusely.

By the time Ron made it back to the bookshop, Hermione was sitting on a bench outside waiting for him. “There you are! For a second, I thought you forgot about me,” Hermione joked.

“Never! Sorry it took me so long. I needed to make an extra stop. This is for you,” Ron said, handing her the singular rose.

“Ron, you didn’t have to do th-” she looked up at him when she realized what it was.

“I don’t suppose you need to ask the meaning of this one?” Ron asked through his smile.

“No, not this time,” Hermione answered softly. “Thank you.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to place a hesitant kiss on his lips. It still felt surreal that she could do that now. Kiss him when she wanted.

“Should we stop by the grocer’s before heading back then? We’ll probably need to start dinner soon. It’s already past four.”

“Oh, yes, you’re right! I told my parents six! Let’s go.”

~o~

Ron was pulling the Shepherd’s pie out of the oven as they heard a buzz come from the intercom. “That must be them!” Hermione said. “I’ll go down and meet them. Be right back.”

He watched her leave as he set the hot dish on the center of the table. Ron picked up his wand and used magic to set the table while he waited for them to return. When Hermione walked back in the door with her parents, they all exchanged pleasantries and prepared to eat while dinner was still warm. Her parents had brought a bottle of wine that Hugo opened and poured glasses for everyone.

As they tucked into their meals, Jean looked at her daughter after taking a few bites. “Hermione, when did you learn to cook? You never showed an interest growing up so I wasn’t expecting- This is delicious!”

“I still haven’t really learned how to cook, Mum. Ron did most of the work, and I helped chop the vegetables and peel the potatoes,” Hermione explained.

Mrs. Granger observed her daughter and then Ron for a moment before saying, “Well, it’s very well done.” Her voice wasn’t as stiff as yesterday, but there was still a chill that lingered.

“I have to agree, Ron. This is one of my favorite dishes! It’s been a while since I’ve had one as good as this!” Hugo held up his win glass as he said, “Cheers.”

“Thanks, it’s my Mum’s recipe. I’ve helped her a lot with it, so it’s one of those that’s always in the back of my mind. I was hoping it wasn’t too simple to serve.”

“Not at all, not at all! It’s brilliant,” Hugo said.

An easy quiet fell over the table as they continued their meal. After Hermione took her last bite, Ron noticed her steeling herself to address her parents. “Mum, I’m sorry about last night,” she started.

Mrs. Granger looked up at her daughter. “It’s fine, Hermione, we don’t need to discuss it now.” Ron caught her eyeing him briefly before she continued. “When you come home, we can discuss it more.”

“I-I’m not going home with you and Dad. I’m staying here, with Ron.”

“Hermione, I hardly think-”

“No, Mum. I love you and Dad, but Australia isn’t my home.”

“Well, unless you’ve kept the house in England to yourself, I don’t reckon your home is there, either, is it?” her mother retorted.

“Er, no, I guess not. I’m not sure I know where home is, but it feels the most like home when I’m with Ron.” Hermione’s cheeks tinged a slight pink at her admission.

Her mother stared at her. “Darling, I hardly think you should be trusting that judgement right now.”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but her father beat her to it. “Jean, I think you’re being a bit unfair.”

“Unfair? Hugo, we’ve been worried sick about our daughter for months, not knowing what happened! Only for her to show up at our doorstep to come bring us home to England, insisting that everything’s safe now! Telling tales of how she dropped out of the Wizarding school we reluctantly allowed her to attend, and finding out she spent the better part of the last year living in a tent with two teenage boys!”

“Who have been my best friends for seven years!”

“And one you’re no doubt sharing a bed with. Don’t think I didn’t notice there’s only one bedroom, young lady!”

Ron felt compelled to say something. He felt that Mrs. Granger’s underlying issues with this were related to him. He needed to talk to her. To set the record straight. She’d never been this cold to him at King’s Cross, or when he’d gone with his Dad to pick up Hermione. He looked to Hugo, who nodded. That was all he needed.

“Mrs. Granger, would you mind taking a walk in the park across the way with me?” Ron asked.

Both women looked taken aback at his question. “Ron, I don’t think-” Hermione started to say.

“Hermione, I think it may actually be a good thing. Jean, you should go,” Hugo intervened. “We’ll take care of the dishes.”

Ron stood up and headed out the door and down the stairs. He didn’t grab his jacket, but the night air was relatively warm, and he had his Weasley sweater on. When Jean met him outside they walked silently across the road and entered the park. Ron hoped that Jean would speak first, so he could get an idea of what was bothering her, but she was tight lipped.

He strengthened his resolve and decided to start the conversation. “Mrs. Granger, I know I messed up-”

“That’s an understatement!” she exclaimed as she cut him off.

“I know, trust me, I know,” he hoped she could sense the pain in his voice. No one knew how much it tore him apart than himself. “I want to make things right, or at least explain, but I can’t do that unless I know what I’ve done wrong in your eyes. There’s not a day where I’m not trying to make it up to her.”

Mrs. Granger huffed in frustration. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Then start with the first thing that’s been bothering you, before you knew I left them last winter.”

“You broke her heart in sixth year. She was absolutely miserable when she came home for Christmas. Hermione tried so hard to hide it, but a mother always knows. I was rooting for you! Why do you think Hermione was always able to spend the summers with your family? I knew she was happiest when she was with you. Not your family. You. Do you know how much convincing it took with Hugo? And then you went and broke my only daughter’s heart by choosing her flouncy little roommate.”

“I know. I have no excuses for that.”

“That doesn’t make things better. And then she comes home at the end of term, happy that you’re on speaking terms again, but I could tell there was still something off. She seemed so hollow. Of course, now I know why. She was planning to send us away. You didn’t put her up to it, did you?”

“No!” Ron said angrily. “I didn’t know anything until she showed up at the Burrow a week earlier than expected, sobbing uncontrollably. She never even told me what she’d planned!” Ron said bitterly. He didn’t mean to, but he was still upset she hadn’t enlisted his help.

“You didn’t know?”

“No. I didn’t understand why she did it. Why she couldn’t have talked to you, and convinced you to go. That maybe modifying your memory wasn’t the only option. She was insistent it was the only way, and that it was done. She’s your daughter, I expect you know how stubborn she can be.”

He actually managed a chuckle out of Mrs. Granger. “That’s an understatement.” It didn’t last long, however. “Why did it have to be you three?”

Ron took a moment to think about her words. “To go on the hunt? It didn’t. Technically, it only had to be Harry, but Hermione and I, we talked about years ago. After what happened with the stone, we knew wherever he went, we’d go. He needed us.”

“But you’re teenagers! What could you have possibly done that adults couldn’t?”

Ron couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. “You sound like my Mum. I know it’s hard to understand, but it had to be Harry. And without Hermione’s booksmarts and ability to gather knowledge, and my understanding of the Magical world, Harry would have been dead long before he even stood a chance. In retrospect, I see that now. Hermione really did what she thought was best to keep you safe. They would have found you and killed you to spite her. She couldn’t bear it. I know how dangerous it was. I lost one of my brothers in the final battle.”

Mrs. Granger took in his words, and knew he was sincere. “I’m sorry, Ron.” She was quiet for a few paces before she continued. “You were supposed to keep her safe. She trusts you to a fault, and I saw that even after you broke her heart. She let you in again, and then you left her.”

“Mrs. Granger, it took me being poisoned in sixth year for us to make up. I know I made a huge mistake in dating Lavender, and it was all over a stupid fight with my sister, and a misunderstanding with Hermione. It blew out of proportion because I let my anger get the best of me, and if I could go back and change it I would.

“As for leaving her on the hunt, I’ll never forgive myself for that. The object we’d collected from the Ministry was evil. I know it may be hard to believe, but it spoke to me. It fed off my insecurities, and told me she and Harry were better off without me. That she desired Harry more than me. I was wearing it when Harry and I got in a row. I wanted to come back as soon as I left. I never stopped trying to get back to them.”

He hoped that she could sense his desperation. That he was telling the truth. When she didn’t respond right away, he felt it pertinent to add, “Hermione doesn’t know about the locket. We haven’t actually talked about its effect on me. She didn’t speak to me for a whole month when I came back. Even then, it took her almost dying for her to forgive me again, I think.”

Ron noticed Jean shudder. “Things weren’t easy, were they?”

“No. She may not tell you this, but we were close to starving some days. There were times when it felt hopeless, but we had each other.”

“Why didn’t she say anything?”

“She doesn’t want you to worry anymore, so it may be best if you keep this between us. You can tell Mr. Granger, too, though if Hermione finds out I told you she may have my head.” Ron smiled.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I appreciate your candid explanations, but you have to understand why I’m wary,” Mrs. Granger attempted to explain.

“I know, but when she almost- when she almost died, I lost myself. I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t take her place. It nearly broke me. It may have taken me longer than I’d like to admit, but I love your daughter, more than anything. And I’ll never stop trying to protect her. I want to make her happy, and I know there are going to be times where I downright piss her off, but that’s what we do. We bicker, we fight, and we make up. I promise I’ll do my best to not hurt her like that ever again.”

They looped back around and walked in silence for a while before Jean finally spoke. “I appreciate everything you’ve told me. I’m sorry for how cold I’ve been, but you have to understand it’s my duty to protect her as best I can.”

“I know.”

“Did she really set canaries on you after you started dating Lavender?”

Ron looked at Mrs. Granger in surprise. “Er, yeah. I’ve got a couple scars on my hands from it. Should’ve known from that, but I was a barmy sixteen year old.”

“I guess perhaps we didn’t teach her quite so well on how to deal with her anger. Has she apologized to you?”

“Er...explicitly?” Ron asked hesitantly.

“I’ll speak to her.” Jean spoke with a finality that Ron didn’t dare question. “You know, it’s supposed to be quite warm the next few days. You two should visit the beach.”

“That’d be nice, but we didn’t exactly pack those sorts of clothes.”

The warm, inviting demeanor he knew from Mrs. Granger had returned. “Don’t worry! I’ll take Hermione out shopping tomorrow. Oh, and there’s a wonderful bistro I think you two would both love. I can get you reservations for tomorrow evening! You can go with Hugo to purchase swim shorts and an outfit for dinner tomorrow. I’ll take Hermione shopping with me.”

Ron couldn’t help but laugh. “Er… may I ask what you’re planning?”

“Now that we’ve cleared the air, and I know your intentions, I’m going to help you sweep my daughter off her feet, of course!”

#romione #hp post war #hp australia #ron x hermione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger

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remedialpotions · 4 years

Text

An Artistic Rendering, part 2

I couldn’t stop myself. (But also, I had a lot of fun writing this so... here. Have it.)

Wednesday night art classes were typically followed by a casual dinner at a nearby restaurant. Usually, Hermione enjoyed this post-class debrief session with her mum, but that had been under normal circumstances, when they’d been working on drawings of flowers or cats or bowls of fruit. Tonight, Hermione was not totally sure how she would tolerate sitting across from her mother for an entire meal, nor if she would ever be able to look her in the eye again.

“So, what do you think you want to order?” asked Mum cheerfully, opening up her menu. “I’m rather hungry, aren’t you? Maybe we ought to order a starter - the bruschetta here is supposed to be excellent.”

“Sure,” Hermione said, staring blankly into her own menu. Words like ‘carbonara’ and ‘pomodoro’ and ‘rigatoni’ floated meaninglessly in front of her. “Whatever you want.”

“Ooh, let’s get some wine, too,” Mum added. Had Hermione possessed the wherewithal to look at her, she would have been goggling in disbelief. How on earth was she so cheerful after what had just transpired? How was she, too, not completely disturbed? “How about Chianti? I never know what’s supposed to ‘pair well’ with something else, I just always get what I like-”

“Great,” interjected Hermione, eyes fixed on a description for chicken marsala. “Sure. Whatever.”

Mum set down her menu; in her periphery, Hermione sensed her leaning curiously toward her. “What’s going on, dear? Are you all right?”

“‘What’s going on?’” Hermione repeated back, incredulous. “‘Am I all right?’”

“Well-” Mum blinked, taken aback. “I know there were a couple other drawings that the instructor liked better, but she still thought yours was rather good - and you’ve always been better at things like science and maths anyway-”

“It’s not that.”

Just as Mum opened her mouth to inquire further, a young woman in a crisp white blouse and black pants arrived at their table. “Good evening, ladies,” she greeted them. “My name is Nicola and I’ll be your server this evening. May I get you started with something to drink?”

Mum ordered the bottle of Chianti (Hermione privately thought they might need more than one by the time the night was over) and the bruschetta, and Nicola flounced away.

“Mum,” Hermione said, once she was sure that their server was out of earshot. “You drew a picture of Dad.”

“Well, of course I did.” Her voice was infuriatingly casual. “He was the obvious subject, wasn’t he?”

“So you don’t think that was awkward for me at all?”

“Yours was of Ron,” Mum pointed out, leaving Hermione to briefly wonder how she was possibly related to someone so level-headed. “I’m certainly not interested in seeing my future son-in-law like that.”

The discomfort of the evening was dulled, at least momentarily, by this implication that she would be marrying Ron. While they were not yet engaged - Hermione was in no rush, and perfectly happy to cohabitate - she was also quite certain that she would be spending her life with Ron, and it was nice to know that her mum was so certain of it too.

Though, perhaps that made the events of the evening even more bizarre.

“That’s different,” replied Hermione finally.

“How, exactly?”

“He’s not in his fifties, for one-”

“One day he will be,” said Mum, “and I’m sure when that day comes, you’ll find him just as attractive as you do now-”

“Oh my God,” groaned Hermione, squeezing her eyes shut against the barrage of unwelcome mental images that her mum had just conjured up for her.

“Well, really.” Hermione forced herself to open her eyes, only to see a knowing, almost smug sort of look on her mum’s face (perhaps they had more in common than she thought). “Am I meant to believe that this was the first and only time you’ve ever seen it?”

“Please stop-”

“And don’t think we don’t know what happened in Australia.”

Before Hermione could inquire further about this - Australia was a topic that almost never arose between her and her parents, for obvious reasons - Nicola returned with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. The instant the wine was poured, Hermione seized upon her glass and drank deeply from it.

“What were you saying about Australia?” Hermione asked, once she had stopped to catch her breath.

“Just that it was clear what had… transpired between the two of you.”

Hermione paused, considering this, hoping her face was not giving anything away. It was true that she and Ron had had sex for the first time in Australia, just days before locating her parents and restoring their memories. And she did not expect her mum to be under any illusions about the nature of her relationship with Ron; they lived together, and before that, she had been quite unabashed about spending the night at his. But it was one thing to know, and quite another to discuss it.

“You could tell?”

“A mother always knows,” said Mum blithely around her own, more reserved sip of wine. “And really, it was just a matter of time. I always knew that.”

“You did?”

“It was always clear to me, and to your dad, that you had a certain connection with him,” said Mum. She had grown thoughtful now, introspective. “Actually, I imagine it was clear to everyone but the pair of you at times.”

“You’re right about that.”

“It’s why we were always happy to let you spend summers with his family, or spend your Christmas at Hog - at school,” she finished lamely, eyes darting around the restaurant. “You had such trouble fitting in when you were younger, and we were so happy that you found someone who… who understands you, the way he does.”

Hermione nodded, thankful that Nicola had swept over to them with a plate of bruschetta, because she was at a rare loss for words. She always knew her parents had liked Ron, and they’d made no secret of their gratefulness that she had found friends at last in him and Harry. But she hadn’t known that they had seen the depth of their relationship, or understood its uniqueness. Most people questioned what she and Ron saw in each other… but her parents had always known.

“And he really must love you,” Mum went on, helping herself to a piece of toasted bread piled high with chopped tomato, fresh basil, and grated parmesan. “To have done what he did for you.”

Myriad events flashed through Hermione’s mind: Ron, at twelve, vomiting up slugs; at thirteen, telling off Professor Snape; at fourteen, begrudgingly pinning an SPEW badge to his robes; at eighteen, offering himself up for torture in exchange for her. Posing starkers for a figure drawing ranked rather low on his running list of self-sacrifices, and yet it was not lost on Hermione how lucky they were that this was now their biggest concern.

“You’re right,” replied Hermione, taking her own slice of bruschetta. “He really does.”

***

Ron was at the sink, scrubbing a sponge over a dinner plate, when Hermione walked through the door of their flat. “Hi,” Hermione greeted him brightly, approaching him in search of a quick kiss hello. “I’ve brought leftover spag bol if you want it.”

“You know I do.” Ron shut off the faucet and picked up a small towel to dry his hands, then bent to touch his lips to Hermione’s. “A departure from your usual, innit?”

“I didn’t want anything too fancy,” replied Hermione, handing the styrofoam box to Ron, who immediately opened it to peer inside. “I was a bit put off my appetite to be honest with you.”

“Uh oh.” Ron fished a fork out of a drawer. “Dare I ask how it went?”

“You were very well-received,” Hermione assured him, making him grin as he twisted strands of pasta around his fork. “But erm…”

“Yes?”

“My mum… she, er…”

“Oh, no.” Ron paused with his fork in mid-air. “She didn’t have… comments, did she?”

“She did, actually, but that’s not the problem. She…” Hermione waited while Ron chewed his mouthful of pasta. Unlike her, his appetite only increased during times of distress. “She drew my dad.”

To her surprise, Ron burst into raucous laughter. “Yeah, I expected that she would have done.”

“You could have warned me!”

“And you could have warned me that a group of twenty people were going to see my todger before you had me starkers in the sitting room,” Ron grinned, “but you didn’t, did you?”

Though she was outwardly scowling at him, Hermione had to work to keep a smile off her face. “Again, it’s not like I took photos-”

“Merlin’s pants, I bet that’ll be next-”

“And really, it’s quite different when it’s your own father - I didn’t look at it or anything,” Hermione was quick to state, “but even just knowing…”

She broke off with a shudder. Ron set down the container of pasta and folded her into his arms, where she laid her cheek automatically against his chest.

“That sounds traumatic,” said Ron, gently kissing the top of Hermione’s head.

“It really was.”

“Should we sign you up for therapy?”

“Yes, please.”

With another little chuckle, he kissed the top of her head again, and she settled in against him. Her mum had been right: she did have a connection with him that was unlike anything else. She had always known that they would end up exactly as they were now, even when they hadn’t been able to see it themselves.

“So you said your mum had some comments?” asked Ron after a few minutes’ easy silence. “I’m a little scared to ask.”

“Not about the picture,” Hermione said. “Mostly about how… how good you are for me.”

“Yeah?”

“She referred to you as her future son-in-law.”

Ron loosened his grip on Hermione just enough to look down at her with surprise. “Did she really?”

Hermione nodded again. “Does that… freak you out?”

It was not a question of whether he loved her, or was wholeheartedly committed to her; she knew without a shadow of a doubt how he felt. But with marriage came things like babies and home loans and joint vaults at Gringotts, and it was not unreasonable to think that at nineteen, he simply might not be ready for it.

But he just shook his head, and moved in to kiss her again - this one soft, warm, lingering. “Nope. Not at all.”

Happily, Hermione resumed hugging him.

“Maybe next time,” said Ron, his hand rubbing idly up and down her spine, “you lot could do something a little more… you could join a book club, maybe. Something like that.”

“That could be fun,” responded Hermione. “Only, my mum’s got a bit of a penchant for romance novels.”

“Oh. Perhaps not, then…”

#romione #rhr #ron weasley #hermione granger #so just to be clear Hermione's mum did not look at the drawing #she's not a creep lol #also nobody should take the mention of bruschetta as 'excellent' as an endorsement of raw tomatoes

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lazywriter7 · 4 years

Text

Cap-Ironman Rec Week - What-If Wednesday

It’s time to rec some Steve/Tony AUs for @cap-ironman‘s What If Wednesday! If you loved these stories half as much as I did, please shower the authors with kudos and comments <3

Underground by Margo_Kim:

Five years ago, Thor's Chitauri army decimated the Earth. Now what's left of humanity lives in bases under the Earth's surface, safe from the toxic atmosphere. Tony likes to think that humanity's adapted pretty well. After all, they have movie nights and dances; they're doing better than could be expected. But when he learns that the little world of safety and stability they've carved out is about to be slowly but surely destroyed, the New York Underground is left with only two options--fight or flight. Tony knows which one he wants. If only Steve weren't on the exact opposite side. Meanwhile, Natasha wants whatever option will save Clint, Pepper wants whatever option will save the base, Maria Hill wants whatever option will save everybody, and nobody's exactly sure who Loki's trying to save, but everyone's hoping it's more than just himself.

~ Apocalypse!AU. This fic reads like a movie, with all of the dramatic tension, an excellent ensemble cast, beautiful Steve/Tony moments and a breathtaking climax that’s everything you could ever want from a story like this. (With bonus phenomenal Loki moments, if that’s your kind of thing ;) )

ceaselessly into the past by shepherd:

Edge of Tomorrow/Live.Die.Repeat AU, following the movie. After earth is invaded by the Chitauri, Tony Stark is forcefully drafted into the military for a suicide mission. It ends up with him being inexplicably caught in a time loop that always seems to end with him dying horrifically. And, of course, the day was a Thursday- he had never gotten the hang of Thursdays.

~ Movie AUs/fusions are the Best Thing, especially if they’re half as well written as this one! I hadn’t watched the movie before reading the fic, and goddamn if it didn’t stun me with it’s excellent character-driven writing. Even after watching the movie, I can attest that none of it feels forced, but like Steve and Tony were meant to live, die and fall in love in this manner <3

Pulse and Beat series by sineala:

Cassino, Italy, December 1943. Special Agent Tony Stark, former Marvels adventurer, is sent to investigate a Cosmic Cube found by the Invaders -- and it's the perfect opportunity for him to rekindle his secret romance with Steve Rogers. But when Hydra attempts to steal the Cube, an inadvertent wish for help leads to the appearance of a Tony from the future of another world: Director Stark of SHIELD. This Tony is a man with a lot on his mind. He refuses to tell them anything about the future, but he seems to know much more than he should about Captain America. And something's happened that's clearly killing him inside, but he's not talking. When Director Stark's failed attempt to return home leads to the unexpected appearance of another visitor from his universe, all the lies come undone. Now there are two wars to fight, and the second one could ruin all of them.

~ If you’re thinking that no one needs to be told to read Sineala’s fics - well let me just say that this is one of my absolute favourite of their works and it hasn’t gotten nearly as much acclaim as it deserves! A fantastic canon-divergence Noir/616 crossover AU for the ages, with a sprinkling of 616 Civil War fix-it to really get you going.

strays by theappleppielifestyle:

Tony will take whatever he can get from Steve, which is pathetic, because he’s not even really friends with him.

Or, the highschool!AU where Pepper is Tony's much-needed therapist, Darcy is his parter in crime, Bruce needs to go through puberty, Clint shows up to school with bruises and Steve just wants everyone to get through this intact.

~ Highschool AUs are my secret Kryptonite - there’s just something about the emotional vulnerability of characters that age that get me sniffling. Again, no one needs to be told to read theappleppielifestyle‘s fics, but this is another one of those soft, sweet, poignant reads that deserves all of the attention in the world.

The Idiot Box by Margo_Kim:

Stephanie Rogers isn't happy to be in the 21st century, but she's even less thrilled to be on a team with Antonia Stark who seems as spoiled and self-centered as people come. She and Tony do their best to ignore each other, until their mutual insomnia causes them to bond over the new American pastime: late night television watching.

~ this author’s AU’s are just *chef’s kiss*. Featuring cis!female Steph and Tony, with some touching dynamics and laugh-out-loud moments, this is an MCU fic written pre-Avengers, which is a bit of a lovely rarity all by itself.

I’ve got you under my skin by sirona:

Five times Beijing 2008 Olympics Gold Medalist Tony Stark thinks it's going to be no more difficult a job to get ready for London 2012, than what he has just achieved. That is, of course, before Coach Fury comes to visit, and offers him a once-in-a-lifetime chance to be a part of something much bigger than himself. Swimming AU.

~ No AU reclist is complete without a Sports!AU :D The characters here read as authentic to their canon selves, even as they’re participating in competitive sports rather than beating up bad guys - Tony’s arc in particular is really heartwarming <3

Look here, look back, look ahead by marinarusalka:

September, 1941: Returning from a mission as Iron Man, Tony Stark crash-lands in the Carpathian Mountains and is rescued by Captain America. The two heroes team up to investigate Nazi activity at a mysterious castle. But Captain America is keeping secrets that could destroy their new partnership before it has a chance to begin.

~ Some lovely, lovely IM Noir canon divergence AU <3 It also comes bundled with identity porn, and Noir verse is just such a delightful verse to soak in that you all should really go read this at once.

And finally a self-rec or two-

Even Though We Know Love’s Landscape:

But at the core, he’s the same brand of poor little rich guy that dot the shadowed corners of every charity gala, every award function. Sure, maybe it comes in a ‘genius billionaire playboy philanthropist’ package… but his mettle is common iron. A drop of sea water, a dash of air, and he’d rust right through.

She, on the other hand, is made of better stuff.

In which Tony compares people to weird things, Steph recites poetry and two dorks fall in love.

~ AU with cis!female Steve, with all the team living in the Tower and a bunch of feels, fluff and poetry thrown in for good measure :D

Swing City:

“Of all the places you could go to on holiday, you had to pick the one where everything can possibly kill you.”

“I’m here on exchange, actually.” Steve returned primly. "And I’m pretty sure nothing can kill me in a gallery.”

“That’s the tragic bit. You’re in a gallery.” Sam’s tone was impressively flat, even for him. “You’re in Australia. Go hiking in the bush with the poisonous snakes. Surfing with the murderous jellyfish.”

Spoiler alert: Tony's in Australia too. And he's a swing dancer.

~ Is this a kind-of college!AU+Dancer!AU set in Australia, with Steve still as Cap? Yes, yes it is. I had a rollicking good time writing it, plus all of Steve’s Man Out of Time feels, so you’ll get no apologies from this quarter :D

#capimrecweek #stony #stevetony #fic recs #steve rogers #tony stark #mcu stony #marvel 616 #marvel noir #canon divergence #alternate universe

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years

Text

Fractures– Calum Hood (Part III soulmate!au)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: casual drinking, angst, smut and more angst

Song inspiration: Clementine by Halsey (because of the color imagery), In Your Eyes by The Weeknd, Hesitate by the Jonas Brothers, Deathbeds by Bring Me The Horizon

Author’s Note: yes the graduation is unrealistic to be done that fast but hey, that’s the magic of writing, anything is possible :)

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

The Click (Part I) || Measured in Momentes (Part II)

Enjoy! :) feedback is always welcome

• • • •

With classes finally finished, Rose and Calum can finally spend more time with each other without the school curriculum hanging over their heads. To celebrate, they sat at their usual booth in The Dainty Dove where they had their first date nine months ago. Tracey is always their waitress when they come in and she even gave them a sundae for dessert, on the house for their classes being finished.

They tried eating at La Perle a few times but when they giggled a little too loudly and received one too many looks from the other guests, they decided that The Dainty Dove is their spot.

Full of their dinner and complimentary sundae, Rose and Calum arrive at his place satisfied and happy. Rose is excited to sleep in tomorrow as she doesn’t have a shift at the CBS until Wednesday, an end of school year gift from Teresa. The couple climb the stairs to Calum’s bedroom, their movements a bit sluggish as they brush their teeth and wash their faces. Calum makes a big show when Rose changes in front of him, he always lets out a low whistle of appreciation. Rose always responds with a blushed smile that he adores.

When they crawl under the covers, Duke climbs his own little stairs so he can lay curled at their feet, Calum pulls her close and kisses her forehead. He keeps his lips pressed there, inhaling her rose and rainwater scent that he loves so much.

“How does it feel finishing your first year of school?” she asks quietly, her fingers trailing to his neck so she can twirl the strands.

“Great, it was a lot of work but I’m glad I did it,” he grins in the dark. He kisses her forehead once more before shifting onto his pillow. “How about you, Rosie?”

“I’m proud of myself. When I tried college the first time, I couldn’t manage my time well and didn’t really have the motivation like I do now. I can’t wait to go back but I’m excited for the summer.”

“I am too. We’re going to do so much together I bet you’ll get sick of me,” he chuckles slipping his hand beneath his t-shirt she’s wearing. He rubs gentle circles on her lower back.

“I’m not sick of you yet,” she giggles then her voice turns serious with a twinge of hesitancy. “I’ll never get sick of you. Will you get sick of me?”

“Never, sweetheart,” he promises. “You’re my one love.”

“You’re my only love.”

Whenever one of them utters the ‘L’ word, the warmth in their chests glows a little brighter each time. Since that first night when they both said it, the glow seems to grow stronger. As their relationship grows, so does the light within them. Hers is a burning red while his is a warm golden yellow that only the two of them can see.

“Even your heart’s like a rose,” he’d told her one night while they laid under the moon, hands on each other’s chests, right over each other’s hearts so the light would shine through.

As time progressed, the glow began to hum quietly, their love growing stronger. A small vibration within their chests that synced their hearts perfectly.

If one of them were feeling an emotion strongly, the other could feel it as well. One time while Calum was out for a drink with Luke, he suddenly felt incredibly sad and the hum inside him intensified. Instinct made him call Rose immediately only to discover that she found out her grandmother had passed away.

Another instance was when Rose was working a night shift at the CBS and while she was wiping the counters, she felt white hot anger blooming inside her. It was so intense that she threw the sanitizing spray bottle against the wall with her chest feeling equally as hot as her temper. Intuition told her to call Calum. Turns out he was frustrated with one of his assignments.

While they were both in each other’s arms, lips traveling over skin, ragged breaths letting out gasps and moans, the hum became more of a racing flutter. As if their hearts sang to each other whenever they connected so intimately; the most intimate way you can connect with someone. It strengthened even more in that instant when they declared, ‘I love you’ and their bodies were paralyzed for the smallest moment as the euphoria was exchanged.

“Have you fallen asleep on me?” his deep voice pulls Rose from her thoughts.

“No, just taking a walk down memory lane.”

“Can I join you?”

They continue talking until Rose eventually falls asleep, she’s always the first one to fall asleep. Calum counts her breathing which usually helps him lull into his slumber, but he has music notes floating behind his eyelids. He hums the melody out loud, pair that with her breathing he does eventually slip into sleep.

The next morning, Rose awakens to an empty side of the bed. She feels a sort of melancholy in her chest, and it’s when she lifts her head up that she hears it. The soft strum of guitar strings harmonizing with the low tone of Calum’s voice drifts into the room. Curious, she follows the melody to Calum’s music room a few doors down from his bedroom.

She’s only been in there once when he gave her a tour of the house. Rose has never seen him in there then she’s suddenly filled with guilt that she took him away from making music. He took the year off, she knows that, but did that mean he took a year off from creating music? He wrote lyrics constantly, some he even shared with her, but she’s never heard him sing like this.

Rose peeks around the corner to see him sitting in his swivel chair, beanie atop his head while he sings his song. She can barely make out the words but picks up on a few . . . ‘home . . . calling me . . . back to you . . . my home . . .’

The wood creaks when she leans on it more, alerting Calum of her presence and his head lifts quickly. Their gazes meet, she’s filled with more sadness as she stares into his eyes and begins to cry.

“Why are you crying?”

“Why are you sad?”

Their questions overlap then Calum sets his guitar on the ground. He motions for her to join him with his fingers and she shuffles in, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Calum drags her onto his lap, his thumb drying her cheeks even more.

“I don’t mean to cry,” she blubbers as more tears fall against her will, “I can feel how sad you are.”

“I’m sorry baby,” he sighs. “I had this melody in my head, and I got to thinking of back home and had to let it out. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m just too sensitive,” she giggles wetly. “We can go to Australia if you want, it isn’t fun being homesick.”

“You’re perfect,” he shakes his head then kisses her cheek. “Home is wherever I’m with you, sweetheart.”

***

Rose stands next to Ruby while Calum and the others are skirting around backstage preparing for the Friends of Friends show they’re putting on tonight. It’s a few hours until doors will open, and Rose is enjoying watching Calum in his element, it’s a side she hasn’t seen before.

He’s approached by a lot of people while he’s setting the stage with speakers and cords. She can hear the sense of authority in his voice as he instructs them on what to do or where to go. He catches her eye, shoots her a wink and Rose giggles while she waves at him.

“Can I ask you something?” Ruby asks swirling her black straw in her vodka soda. The ice clinks hard against the glass that her eyes are glued to.

“Anything,” Rose shifts so she can rest her elbow on the bar top. She and Ruby have become quite close, Rose considers her a best friend.

“When . . . how did Cal tell you the ‘L’ word?” her honey brown eyes lift to meet Rose’s dark blue.

“It was right before we were leaving to meet you and Ash for dinner, actually,” Rose starts, “I wrote a poem that had the word in it. He found it and I felt embarrassed but then he said it and I said it and . . . something changed when we did.”

“What changed?”

Rose glances up at Calum who is now lifting a large speaker onto his shoulder. The action made his shirt tug open revealing a triangular view of his chest, allowing some of his tattoos peek out. Even from this distance, she can faintly hear the hum of his heart, and see the glow in his chest radiating dimly. She feels her own heart leap at the connection.

“It’s like our hearts met,” Rose finally says turning her attention to Ruby. “They synced up somehow and we can really sense what the other is feeling.”

“Is there a glow? Or a light? I’ve been doing some research on soulmates and not many people are like you and Calum. I’ve only read about two others who have said the ‘L’ word and they spoke of a light.”

“Yeah, there is a glow. When we first said it, it was like it transferred between us, his is more of a warm yellow and mine is red. The hum has become more recent. We’re still trying to figure it all out ourselves.”

“That’s . . . interesting,” Ruby swirls her straw in her glass again. She’s not acting like herself; she’s being very reserved compared to her usual frenzy energy.

“Rue, do you want to say it to Ashton?” Rose asks softly.

“Yes. Maybe. I’m not sure,” Ruby sighs. “I’ve been feeling different lately. I think I almost said it yesterday while we were doing yoga. It might have just been the moment of calm or something but I... I felt it. In my chest.”

“Why didn’t you say it?”

“What if he doesn’t say it back?”

Rose rests her hand on Ruby’s shoulder, giving her a tight squeeze. “How could he not? You’re soulmates.”

When the show started, Rose and Ruby were near the front of the stage, drinks in hand while they watched other performers. The first act was an indie pop duo that used synthesizers in their sound. It made the whole room vibrate and combined with their voices you could really feel the emotion in their songs.

Rose snapped photos and took videos of each performance afterward, a DJ with intense transitions, a male singer that only used a ukulele as his instrument and then a small girl band that got the crowd hyped up for 5 Seconds of Summer to end the show.

Rose could feel her heart thumping against her ribs, it’s a mix of nerves and excitement and she knows it’s what Calum is feeling. The lights go down and she can see Calum and the others walk onstage while a few people cheer and clap in anticipation. Ashton snaps his sticks together just as the lights turn red, they’re under a hazy glow as Michael’s guitar tunes in place and their voices start harmonizing.

Her heart leaps in her chest as she watches Calum completely in his element. His fingers work the bass meticulously and when he’s at the keyboard, he still finds a groove with the music, letting it work through his whole body.

Rose’s favorite part of the performance is Wildflower. She can’t take her eyes off him and he can’t take his eyes off her. He enjoys watching her dance and sing along just as much as she enjoys seeing him perform. Their hearts are in sync, their glow starts to grow, and their eyes stay locked on one another.

When the show is over, Rose and Ruby are ushered backstage to meet the guys. They’re all taking a final bow while also ending the night with their gratitude and love for the crowd joining them. Calum leads the pack offstage, his eyes searching for Rose.

Once they’re finally together, she springs into his waiting arms. His body is warm and a little damp from playing but his cologne tickles her nose in the best way possible as she praises him in his ear, Calum’s arms around her tighten in response.

“You liked it?” he asks in her ear.

Rose pulls her head from his neck to smile at him, her fingers wipe the small beads of sweat above his eyebrow. “I loved it, you’re so good, honey.”

Calum grins widely before pressing his lips to hers.

***

Calum wakes with a pounding headache. He wishes it were from a hangover but instead, his fight with Rose still replays in his head. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hand, getting rid of the sleep and attempting to rub the pain in his head away.

He stares at the ceiling wondering how it all went wrong from such a perfect weekend.

Calum had reserved the whole restaurant of The Dainty Dove for Rose’s birthday Saturday evening so that all her friends, coworkers, and those close to her could celebrate her birthday. He wanted the whole day to be special, so he woke up early to retrieve her favorite coffee and cranberry orange muffin from below in the CBS from Teresa.

He placed one red candle in the center of the muffin then proceeded to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ softly until Rose roused awake. Her eyes widened at the sight before her, smile apparent on her face. When Calum finished singing, she blew out the candle then gave Calum a grateful kiss.

After sharing the muffin, the pair showered together where Calum presented her with intimate touches and wandering kisses. Rose’s moans echoed against the shower tiles while he gifted her three times. The rest of the day consisted of pampering and then a lunch with Calum’s sister, Mali-Koa.

He loves how well Rose and his sister get along, they clicked instantly—which is a little ironic on its own since that’s what Rose and Calum felt when they first met-- when she visited over the holidays. A friendship quickly formed between the two and they contacted each other frequently.

When dinnertime rolled around, the two soulmates walked hand in hand inside The Dainty Dove. Rose was shocked at the party he formed for her, tears in her eyes as everyone hugged her. The night was filled with laughter, food, drinks and dancing.

While he was speaking with Luke and Ashton about the direction they wanted to take with the next album, Rose slipped her fingers through Calum’s and pulled him to the makeshift dance floor. Michael was the DJ and the all too familiar intro to ‘In Your Eyes’ by The Weeknd started to play and Rose started to dance loosely against him.

Their fingers locked and unlocked when he’d spin her away from him only to hold her even tighter against his chest, her hips rotating with his. His lips pressed to her neck, smiling against her skin as he breathed her in. She spun around and laced her fingers behind his neck, their eyes met.

“Thank you for this, I love you,” she told him, and her chest bloomed in that warm red.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he grinned, the warm yellow glow came to life in his own chest. Their colors lit up their faces, as if the sunset were settled between them.

He held her hand while he led everyone in singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her over a large cake decorated with blooming roses in every shade. After she blew out her candles, she kissed him, and he could feel her gratitude from her lips.

Calum watches the coffee trickle into the pot as he thinks over the last 48 hours. After some cake, more dancing and drinking, Calum took Rose home. Then on Sunday, they went over to Ashton and Ruby’s for brunch. Rose moved sluggishly but as soon as she got a sip of coffee in her she was fine. Then the fight happened.

“I’m excited to get back into the studio after all this time, this was a good idea to take a year off,” Luke said shoveling more scrambled eggs on his plate.

“That’s great! Do you think you’ll tour next year then?” Rose said while she was buttering a cranberry muffin and then an awkward silence fell amongst the friends. Rose glanced up, looking from each pair of eyes until she landed on Calum who was pointedly avoiding hers.

“Uh, we were discussing touring towards the end of this year,” Luke informed, his fork still holding some eggs.

“Oh, right, of course,” Rose nodded then remained silent while the conversation picked back up.

She picked at her food, half listening and half in her thoughts. If they were planning on touring towards the end of the year, that’s in the middle of the school term. Rose felt Calum trying to catch her gaze throughout the rest of brunch, but she made sure not to meet his eyes. She’s hurt he didn’t tell her any of this and saddened that their summer of spending time together is now inevitably diminished. She hugged and kissed the others goodbye and gave Calum a cold, hard look before they exited the house.

“I’m sorry, I was going to talk to you about all this,” Calum said once they were in the privacy of his car.

“When?” Rose tried to keep her tone even.

“Definitely not on your birthday weekend,” he sighed then reached over to grab her hand. She pulled away. Defeated, he rests his arm on the center console, preparing himself for the aftermath of Luke’s slip of information.

“Then when Calum? I didn’t even know you were going back to the studio soon, or that you wanted an album to be released in what... the next four or five months? When were you going to tell me, you weren’t going back to school?” she tried to keep her tone even, but her anger quivered through her lips and Calum felt her anger shake in his chest.

“We all agreed to the one-year break, I love school, but I’ve given up a lot for this band. I can’t bail on them now.”

“You can’t bail on yourself either, you love school. I don’t think you should drop out.”

“I can’t do both. I don’t really have much of a say, Rosie.”

“Yes, you do! You have a lot of say! I know the band and music is important to you, it’s a part of who you are and what makes you, you. I don’t think you should drop out,” she shook her head.

“It’s not your decision to make,” he mumbled but Rose heard him.

She snapped her head in his direction, her heart jumped to her throat and her airway felt trapped from his words.

“Looks like you made the decision to not discuss anything with me,” her voice shook but this time with tears creeping up.

Calum felt the change within him, he’s never felt this way before, and he stared at her, but Rose kept her face turned out her window.

“Rosie—”

“Take me home.”

“Ro—”

“Please, Calum, take me home. . .” she whispered then sucked in harshly, keeping her tears in.

When he pulled up to the CBS, he tried to reach for her, but Rose fumbled her way out of the car as fast as she could then walked swiftly inside. She didn’t even turn around. Calum sat frozen for a few moments, paralyzed at their first big fight. He could still feel her emotions within him, his chest rattled when he finally pulled away to go home.

His own eyes filled with angry tears, he desperately wanted to turn around so he could comfort her, but he knew she needed to be alone.

Calum hasn’t heard from Rose since yesterday after he dropped her off. He’s tried calling and texting her, but he’s left on voicemail and on read. He goes through the motions of making his coffee, he even made Rose’s coffee how she likes it without realizing it.

His front door slams open and he rushes towards it, thinking it’s Rose and they can finally talk and make up. He sees his sister standing there instead. Although he’s happy to see her, he’s disappointed it’s not his Rose.

“Hey,” he mumbles.

“You’re an idiot, little brother. Why aren’t you over at Rose’s place apologizing?” Mali-Koa demands, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’ve been trying! She hasn’t responded back and won’t take my calls. She’s upset, she needs space.”

“Maybe last night but not right now. You really hurt her feelings by keeping all of this from her. She’s your partner, hell, she’s your soulmate, Cal. Your life and her life are intertwined forever, you shouldn’t keep things from her.”

“You don’t think I know that? I had no idea how to bring it up to her! I can feel exactly what she’s feeling right now…” he seethes as his emotions and Rose’s collide within him. Then he gives his sister a confused look, “How do you know we’re in a fight?”

“We were supposed to go shopping and get lunch, but she cancelled on me and I asked if she was all right and she told me everything. Find a way to finish school, it’s clearly important to her that you do,” she says earnestly. “I came here to talk sense into you. Go to her, Cal.”

In a split moment of hesitation, Calum darts upstairs to grab his shoes and change quickly into something other than just his basketball shorts. When he gets downstairs and grabs his keys, Duke is in his sister’s arms.

“I got Duke; you stay with her until this is resolved.”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” he huffs giving her a quick kiss to her cheek then makes his way to his girl.

Calum already had his key ready as he took the steps to Rose’s apartment two at a time. He’s breathless when he opens the door to find her exactly where he knew she’d be, in her bed with one of his sweatshirts on. As soon as she sees him, Rose bounds from the safety of her warm bed right into her arms. He caught a glimpse of her red face and swollen eyes before he held her tightly against his chest.

When they connected, Calum felt her emotions finally break. His own chest broke open while hers did. He took her sadness, anger, and frustration as his own and held her through the release. Hot tears sprung from his own eyes, they held each other tightly until the silent storm passed.

Once her body stopped trembling, Calum pushes her away slightly so he can look into her eyes. He frames her cheeks with his hands, his forehead knocks against hers.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he sighs, “I should’ve told you from the beginning what me and the guys were discussing about the studio and the album and touring. Touring isn’t even set in stone yet; I don’t know why Luke said that in the first place.”

“But what about school? What about me?”

Calum’s heart nearly broke at her last question. She doesn’t think he’d leave her behind does she?

“I’ll—we can figure this all out. Together, yeah?” he asks, and she nods before leaning up to press her lips to his. “Let me get you some water and we can talk about it.”

Rose went back to her bed while he poured her a glass of cold water, a trick he learned that when she’s upset, she either splashes cold water on her face or drinks a whole glass. He joins her in the middle of her bed, and she drinks half the glass before snuggling against him.

They discuss the pros and cons of quitting school, pros and cons of him being at the studio nearly everyday this summer and what touring would look like if it happened at the end of the year. As they talked, Calum felt her emotions lower and that hum in his chest became more of a steady vibration. Her hand rested on his chest with his own covering hers. Occasionally he’d lower his head so he could kiss her fingertips.

By the end of their discussion, he decided to finish school online and promised they would still spend a lot of their summer together. Touring was still up in the air but if it were to happen, she would fly out during breaks and he’d fly back to her when they’d have a longer lag between shows.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks while they’re still lying together in her bed. Their fingers lock and unlock on his chest. She nods against his shoulder. “Why do you want me to finish school so badly?”

“Because, it’s what brought you to me.”

***

One Year Later

Graduation day. A day that both Calum and Rose have been waiting for. Their friends watched them walk across the stage and toss their caps into the air. Ruby even snapped a photo of them giving each other a celebratory kiss as the caps fell around them.

Their graduation party is held at none other than The Dainty Dove where Tracey helped decorate the restaurant with streamers, balloons, signs and each table had their own centerpiece of a ‘Congrats Grads!’

It was a day of celebration of their endeavors, and for Rose and Calum, it was a night of reminiscing as they sat out on his patio once the festivities were over.

He’s sat on a chair, his dress shirt unbuttoned, his tie loose and hanging down his chest when Rose saunters out still in her dress but barefoot. A champagne bottle is clutched between her fingers.

“Hey grad,” she smiles and fits herself onto his lap comfortably.

“Hi beautiful,” he grins, arms wrapping around her body. He notices the cork is still in the bottle then glances up at her. “Need help opening this?”

“Please,” she giggles, “the pop scares me.”

Calum kisses her cheek before unwinding his arms from her then presses the bottle against his lower stomach. Rose covers her ears but still jumps and squeals when he pops the cork. It flies into the pool and a little bit of the bubbly flows over onto the concrete making Calum to lean forward and slurp some of it up. He doesn’t want it to get on Rose and make her sticky.

“Thank you, honey,” she praises resting her arm around his broad shoulders, her nails rub the nape of his neck as he hands her the bottle.

“To you, college graduate,” he toasts.

Rose holds the neck of the bottle and takes a hearty swallow; her eyes tear up a little from the alcohol and the bubbles. She holds it out to him.

“To you, college graduate,” she smiles, and he drinks the same amount as she did. He smacks his lips together leaning forward to give her a kiss. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you. I’m proud of you, sweetheart, and us, we’ve accomplished a lot this year.”

“We did, didn’t we? I can’t believe I’ve been living here for six months,” she sighs resting her head against his temple, the champagne bottle nestled in her lap.

It was an easy transition of her moving in with Calum even if it was in the middle of their second school year. Nearly all her things were at his place anyway and she was always there after school. Or he’d be at her place a lot of the time, it only made sense to move into his place because the space was bigger, and Duke had a yard to run around it.

“It’s been an exciting six months,” he nods. His fingers tickle up and down her thigh. “Speaking of six months, Honey’s going to be that old next week.”

Rose glances over to their new family member behind Calum—a golden retriever named Honey—as she sleeps soundly against the glass sliding door inside the house. Duke is next to her, snuggled against her body and Rose giggles at the pair thinking of Calum’s nickname for them: Honey Duke’s like from Harry Potter.

“She’s getting so big; I wish she could stay the same size as Duke.”

“Yeah, I need to get used to having a medium sized dog now,” Calum chuckles. “But she’ll be his protector I’m sure.”

“Hey, you know what we should do?” Rose perks up, Calum looks at her expectantly, his dark eyebrows rising slightly. “Can we go to Paris again before the album release next month? I loved it when we went on spring break.”

Calum smiles at the memories of walking along the Seine and down the streets of Paris, Rose’s hand in his. The pictures from their trip are hung in a frame that resembles the Eiffel Tower in their living room. At the center is a photo of them kissing in front of the tower as it’s lit up in a dazzling light show behind them. To their surprise, somehow both of their glows in their chests appeared in the photo.

The other frames were of them in the streets of Paris, on a bridge, in front of the Notre Dame and other fun selfies they took. They were only there for a week because of spring break and if they went now, they would go for at least three. Rose fell in love with Paris which didn’t surprise him.

“Of course, we can, sweetheart. The bread and cheese here just doesn’t taste the same.”

They pass the champagne bottle back and forth, enjoying their moment of memories, happiness from the day and excitement for the future to come. Rose has interviews with magazines and a few publishing companies she’ll hopefully end up working for. But right now, it’s just the two of them.

“I actually have a graduation gift for you,” he says suddenly when the champagne bottle is half empty and pressed to Rose’s lips.

She splutters on her sip, wiping her chin of the dribble, eyes wide.

“Cal, we said no graduation gifts to each other,” she reprimands.

“I know, but I couldn’t help myself. C’mon,” he pats the side of her butt affectionately. “It’s in the bedroom.”

With their fingers loosely locked, they traipse inside to their room where the dogs follow them as soon as they heard movement. Rose takes one more sip of the champagne, feeling the bubbles dance inside her head as she watches Calum take a last sip before resting it on the dresser. He pushes her to sit onto the edge of the bed and he scrambles through his bookbag.

Rose watches him curiously when he pulls out a small black book. He holds it out to her, and she sees the words mon unique amour encrypted in gold lettering. Calum kneels in front of her as she opens the book gasping when she sees it’s filled with little poems and song lyrics that he’s written about her and for her.

Tears spring in her eyes as she pages through the words of his love then at the last page is a note from him that reads:

No amount of words will convey my love for you, but I’ll never stop writing of the love we have. It has powers to cross the deepest oceans, withstand any storm and shines brighter than the sun. You’re my light, my life, my one love and my soulmate. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. I have to ask you something, so look up at me with those beautiful eyes you have, sweetheart. . . .

She looks up at him and he’s holding a diamond ring between his fingers, she didn’t even notice he was knelt on one knee. Rose snaps the book shut setting it next to her on the bed, her attention on Calum

“Will you marry me, Rose?” he grins, his own eyes a little glossy.

Rose caresses his face as she gives out a shaky “yes” and then he slips the ring on her finger. She pulls him closer by the collar of his shirt so she can press her lips to his.

“I love you so much,” she sighs pulling him even more over her body. Her hands are making quick work of untucking his shirt from his dress pants. The vibration in her chest buzzes, Calum hoists her further into the center of their bed helping her remove his shirt and tie from his neck.

“I love you more than words,” he sighs when her nails grate down his chest then to the buttons of his pants.

Once he’s undressed, he helps her tug her dress off her body. Her chest is glowing red, illuminating her face in a rosy glow just as his own chest radiates the sun into his eyes. Their lips connect, he rubs himself against her core while his hand hooks her leg over his hip.

She sighs in his ear while he suckles on her neck and his fingers tease her entrance open meticulously. Her body moves like a wave beneath his as he works her over. When she orgasms, Calum situates himself more in between her thighs, his tip paused at her entrance.

Slowly and oh so gently, he laces his fingers through hers, both watching the diamond on her finger sparkle in the lowlight of the moon spilling into their room. He thrusts his hips forward slowly, filling her up inch by pleasurable inch. He watches in fascination as her mouth falls open, a quiet sigh slipping out and her chest blooms like the beautiful Rose that she is just as his own sunshine radiates outward.

Together, bodies moving in tandem with their love in a continuous loop, the colors of their hearts form an even darker orange. Their heart and soul reach a new level as the color bursts forth, exploding behind their eyes as they come together in a rush of passion. Their love is transcending, and it leaves them both breathless.

Calum just replied to Rose to drive safe on her way to the venue where they’re hosting another Friends of Friends show. He arrived earlier with Ashton and Ruby to help set up and go over last-minute things with the artists while Rose had some errands to run. She’s running a little late right now and a storm is coming; he knows how much she hates storms let alone driving in them.

It’s been a week since their graduation and engagement and Calum felt like he was walking on air. Since that night, their love has never felt more solid and their sixth sense of feeling each other’s emotions have changed to more selective sensations. Currently, they’ve both felt nothing but pure joy, but it radiated throughout their entire being.

While Calum is bringing in more equipment from the trucks out back, he notices the dark clouds approaching at a faster rate. Members of the crew offer their congratulations on the graduation and his engagement to Rose as they pass him by.

The stage is nearly set up when Calum scans the crowd that’s formed in front of the stage and has asked around of Rose has arrived yet. He’s met with disappointment that she hasn’t, and he checks his phone. She read his message twenty-five minutes ago, she should be here by now.

“She’ll be here soon,” Luke tries to console him, “you know how LA traffic is.”

“Yeah, but there’s a storm coming. She hates them and hates them even more while she drives. They make her nervous,” Calum stresses.

“Have you tried calling her?”

“I don’t want to distract her,” he shakes his head then hefts a speaker into his arms.

His mind is on Rose while he balances the speaker on the stand next to Ashton’s set as Ashton is securing the bolts.

Suddenly, Calum is filled with a heavy pain in his head and chest. It’s almost as if his heart is screaming and he’s blinded by a bright light that makes him collapse to the floor. The speaker is busted, and Ashton is by his best friend’s side immediately.

Distantly, Calum hears his friends calling his name, but he feels as if his head is about to split open, his chest already feels like it has. He doesn’t know how long he’s stuck in this pain filled moment of time but when he comes to, the bright light fades away and he’s staring at Ashton who is somehow still in dark shadows. He’s looking at him as if he were outside for hours without sunglasses on and his eyes are still adjusting to the indoors. He blinks rapidly trying to get normal color back.

Once he’s back in focus, his head is spinning uncontrollably, he feels nauseous from it all and dry heaves. He feels hands on him trying to push him back onto his back and others trying to tilt him over in case he does get sick.

As quick as it started, it all goes away. The burning warmth and constant hum he’s felt in his chest since he and Rose said ‘I love you’ is drifting away until he can barely feel it anymore. Panicking, he looks down at his chest, the new orange color that was created a week ago after they made love is changing back to his personal golden yellow.

“Cal! What’s happening?!” Ashton shouts shaking his friend, his voice and eyes filled with worry as Calum stares back up at him.

“Rose!” he chokes out then he hears ghostly sirens in his head and his world goes dark.

• • • •

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#calum hood writing #calum hood fic #calum hood smut #calum hood au #soulmaute!au #soulmate!calum #calum hood angst #calum angst #calum fluff #calum smut #calum hood fluff #5sos writing #5sos au

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parkersbliss · 4 years

Text

Stalker | P. Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker X Female!Australian!Reader

warnings: Peter IS a stalker, no-no words, me trying to be Australian (I’m sorry if it’s wrong), kidnapping, and Peter being a pervert but if you blink you'll miss it.

wc; 3.6K

request: hi lovie, your writing is so adorable! I was wondering if i could request if the reader is a new exchange student in peter's class from australia or somewhere really far away and his crush amounts to always checking that the reader get home safely and secretly admiring and learning as much as he can out of awe in the reader as spider-man xx

synopsis: Peter isn’t a stalker, he just wants you to be safe and if watching you walk home every day ensures that then so be it.

Masterlist | Taglist

Peter had no idea he could be so infiltrated with one person. Especially someone from the other side of the world. It started as a stupid crush and then it grew less stupid and into more of an obsession. But Peter was NOT obsessed with you. Obsessed was a term for stalkers. And Peter was not a stalker. No, he just wanted to make sure you got home safely every day.

That wasn't stalking, that was being cautious. But it's safe to say, the boy is obsessed with you. And of course, you had no idea (at least as far as Peter was concerned, you didn't). So, maybe it was stalking, but Peter refused to believe that. He was just looking out for you. Without your permission.

He knew from the moment you walked into his Physics class that he had to know you. But of course, Peter's shy self made it hard to even so much as say hi to you. Which was where Spider-Man came in. If Peter couldn't talk to you, then maybe Spidey could.

That also backfired. Which was why he now resorted to "looking out" for you.

He was definitely stalking you.

...

You were a new exchange student from Australia. It was a big change. You had been living on a ranch near the outskirts of Sydney and now you were living in a small apartment in one of the busiest cities in the world. New York was so different from where you use to go to school and you didn't know whether to hate it or love it. Sure, there were perks to being in the city, like getting coffee on your way to school every day, being able to go shopping at huge malls within a ten-minute drive, there was also the fact that something poisonous wasn't trying to kill you every five seconds, that was a relief to you.

But for every poisonous creature, there was a crime being committed around the corner. That never worried you too much, then again, when you spend the first eighteen years of your life making sure there isn't a spider under your toilet seat or in your pillowcase nothing worries you anymore. The only Spider you tolerate was Spider-Man. After all, he was fighting crime. That was one of the other perks of living in New York. Despite all the crime, you felt safe knowing someone was trying to stop it all. In Australia, the only thing keeping you safe was your gut instinct.

And you had a pretty damn good one.

...

You figured you'd spend the first week at your new school sitting alone. You couldn't have been more wrong. Upon entering the cafeteria you found a table near the back that no one was sitting at. At least, you thought no one was sitting there. Turns out, the table belonged to three people. Peter, Ned, and MJ. You had been picking at your food, the only thing you had eaten was the apple.

The food here was much different from your home's, and frankly, it smelt like dead fish. It also looked like dead fish. For all you knew, it might've been dead fish. You were biting into your apple, eyes focused on your worn-out sneakers when you felt the table shift. Looking up you saw a tall girl with unruly brown hair. She was much taller than the company she kept. Two boys, one with black hair and kind eyes and another muscular one with chestnut hair who was avoiding your gaze.

You swallowed, "Hi," Your voice thick with the Australian accent.

"Hey, you're the new exchange student, right?" The girl asked.

You nodded, setting your apple back down on the tray.

"I'm MJ, these are my friends, Ned and Peter."

"I'm Ned," The one with black hair said, both him and MJ sitting down across from you.

"You guys don't have to sit with me..."

"We normally sit here anyway."

"Oh." You turn toward the other boy who was still standing awkwardly. "'m guessing your Peter?"

He nods, "yeah, that's me, Parker Peter. I mean, Peter Parker."

You smile softly at him and Peter swears he forgot how to breathe for five seconds. You didn't even have to try. A smile graced your lips and he was already head over heels for you. "You can sit next to me, I don't bite like some of the other things from my country."

Peter nods, "Yeah, ok, that sounds good."

"Wow, I have so many questions about Australia!" Ned said, breaking the awkward tension between you and Peter.

You turn toward him, "Like?"

"How do you survive there?"

"A few bullets and some common sense will do."

"Is it true that you have the most poisonous spiders?"

"I reckon that. You have to check the toilet seats and pillowcases before you use them."

"Peter loves Spiders!" Ned said. Peter gives him bug eyes from across the table.

"Really?"

He laughs nervously, "They're cool when they're not trying to kill you."

"Deadset."

"Sorry, what?" Peter asked, a little taken back by the term.

"Oh right, Aussie slang for true," You apologize, smiling again. That damn smile.

...

Peter practically ran out of the building as soon as the bell rang. Which wasn't different from usual. He was always first so he could change into his suit (which wasn't as troublesome as it uses to be) and follow, er, carefully observe you on your trip home. He sat on top of one of the tall buildings surrounding his high school, counting down the seconds until you walked out of the building.

You never had anywhere to be so you always took your time packing up. The walk home was always quiet, you didn't mind. You were almost certain Peter lived near you, but you never did seem him walk home. That wasn't any of your business though, but you wanted it to be, in the most non-stalkerish way possible.

Peter was shy, but he was also smart. You also knew that something didn't add up about him. Peter was shy, but he was also first to leave the building. The way home wasn't long, but it also wasn't short enough for you to not at least see Peter once on your way back.

You also knew that someone as jacked as Peter had to be either a sportsaholic or exercise daily. Which lead you to believe that Peter went to the gym every day after school. He was always top of the class in gym, but he wasn't on any sports teams. Not that you were paying attention or anything...

So you figured Peter went to the gym every day, but then you noticed his lack of work out clothes. He couldn't possibly go to the gym wearing jeans. Then again, he might have a locker there or carries an extra change with him. You were pretty confident with this outcome until you started to notice the dark circles under his eyes. Or the multiple bruises on his biceps or his face. Again, not that you were looking.

The walk home was always filled with thoughts like this. Thoughts about Peter. Where did he go after school? Why was is that when there was a fight with Spider-Man he'd come to school the next day with identical injuries? Why did Ned and MJ never say anything about it? MJ was the most attentive person you knew, she had to have picked up on that. Why did Peter never talk to you? Why did you want him to talk to you?

Unbeknownst to you, the boy was watching you the whole time. He didn't know of the thoughts running through your head or the multiple conspiracies you had about him. All he knew was that you seemed stressed and he wanted to reach out, but he could never bring himself too.

...

It occurred to you about the second week. At first, you shrugged it off, he was a superhero, after all, there was no way he was following you home. Every day. It should've been creepy, but you found it somewhat comforting knowing someone was looking out for you. You just had one question, why? Of all the people in the city to protect, why you? It made you wonder if this Spider-Man guy, wasn't a guy, but a teenage boy. One that you'd never seen walk home because he was busy watching you walk home.

"Have you guys ever thought about who Spider-Man is?"

The response you got from the two boys was enough.

Ned starts coughing, which soon turned into actual choking and MJ had to slap him rather hard on his back to stop it.

"N-no," Peter stutters, not meeting your gaze, but Peter was always nervous around you, so this didn't convince you too much.

"Why does it matter? He's probably some old middle-aged dude who never got the girl," MJ said, covering for Peter.

"I think Spider-Man gets all the girls," He interjects.

MJ raises an eyebrow at him, a silent reminder that his verdict didn't matter because they were all desperately trying to hide the fact that Peter was Spider-man. Which was incredibly hard, because you were always on your feet.

"I dunno, maybe it's just me, but he always seems to be following me."

You make an effort to look at Peter from the corner of your eye, you watch as his face diminishes of color.

"W-why would you think that?" The quiver in his voice is much more prominent now.

You shrug, "It's probably just me. Another furphy."

The whole table gives you a quizzical look, "rumor or stories that are just absurd."

You had gotten used to the confused faces of the people who have grown to be your friends.

Peter nods vigorously, "Yup, another furry."

"Furphy," You correct him.

"Right, that word."

You giggle at his mistake, "you're being awfully weird today, Parker."

Peter tosses you a weird look over his shoulder, "weird? I have not been weird!"

"Are ya hidin' something?" You question him, scooting slightly closer to the edge of your seat.

"uh..." Peter's mind forgets how to process anything when all he can think about is you. How intoxicating your perfume is and the way your eyes sparkle with a mischievous light. Or how your body was almost pressed up against his. He swallows, tugging at the collar of his shirt, "No?"

You lean forward a little more and Peter intuitively leans back to control his urge to kiss your lips. He leans so far back he almost falls off the seat. You reached out and grabbed his arm yanking back up into a sitting position with a force he didn't know you had. Although he probably should've as you were from Australia.

"Are you okay? I was just teasing!"

Peter takes a few moments to process what you just said, "Yeah, I'm fine. Nothing I haven't handled before."

MJ rolls her eyes, he couldn't have been more obvious if he tried.

...

Peter had an internal debate about whether to follow you home today or lay off since he was pretty sure you knew. Which lead him to another thought, if you already knew maybe he could accept the risk.

He thought about, but what if you weren't interested in him? What if you were creeped out by him? Maybe you weren't now, but you could be if you found out one of your (what Peter hoped you thought) friends was stalking you. Except he wasn't stalking you.

New York was dangerous and he was just looking out for you. And possibly learning that you lived near his apartment complex, watched The Office every day while eating a bag of goldfish when you got when you home, liked to sing into your hairbrush and chill in only sweats... that were very loose-fitting. Or how happy you sounded when you facetime your friends back in Australia.

He would watch how your face lit up and you talked with ease, never once explaining a phrase to your friends. He knew the first thing you would do when you got back in Australia was go clubbing and get drunk because here in America you were still underaged.

So that's why Peter decided maybe one day off wouldn't kill him.

He'd regret the decision in a few hours.

...

Nothing was unusual about your walk home today. Everything was perfectly normal. Except your little spider friend wasn't there to watch you. At least, you didn't think he was. Regardless, it only aided your thoughts. You confronted your friends about Spider-Man following you and now he was either not following you or he was being more discreet about it.

This meant that either Peter was Spider-Man or Peter knew Spider-Man, but your Australian gut told you that Peter was Spider-Man. Which leads you to then wonder why he would follow you? Not that you minded, although you should've, it made you feel good inside. Knowing your friend was looking out for you, making sure you got home safe.

Then you thought about if he saw other things. Did he stick around long enough to see your dance sessions in the mirror? Was that why he was so weird around you? Or did he something he shouldn't have. No, this is Peter we're talking about, yes he was a teenage boy, but he was also a superhero.

Turns out, Spider-boy wasn't following you home, but someone else was.

...

You sat in a cold room. It was dark with no windows. You had no idea what time of day it was. You only assumed from the darkness it was somewhere between 9 at night or 4 in the morning. Normally, you wouldn't have been as scared. Someone would find you soon, but now that you were alone and your family was on the other side of the world you had little hope. The only hope you had left was that Peter was Spider-Man and if he noticed you missing he would come to save you, but until then you decided that least you could do was annoy your kidnappers with Australian slang.

"Are ya gonna put me on the barbie?"

"I'm calling the coppers on ya!"

"do you guys have a cold one?"

"I'm starting to get real rooted!"

"I'm gonna crack my shits in a few seconds."

"I have to use the dunny!"

"This is truly Devo."

"I feel like cactus."

About an hour after you were conscience they had burst into your room. You looked up from your nails, pretending that they were more interesting than the two men, you looked up for a brief second then went back to examine them.

"You guys are real mongrels."

"Would you cut it with the weird phrases?" One of the men yelled.

"No Wucka's."

They give you a dirty stare and you roll your eyes, "don't get so crook."

One of the men walks up to you and grabs the collar of your T-shirt, "not another word."

"Rack off."

The man practically throws you to the ground, muttering something about needing earplugs. You sigh as they slam the door shut. You should've asked for the time.

...

Peter beat himself up the entire night. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like there was something wrong. He didn't care if you thought he was a stalker anymore, he just had to know you were safe. Which is how he finds himself outside of your window, but with no sigh of, well, you. He told himself there was a reason you weren't here, not that you had been taken or something absurd like that. What did you call it? A furphy? It didn't matter, but what did matter was that it didn't look like you had been home at all. Instead of your backpack being carelessly tossed in the corner of your room, it was empty. That's when he let himself panic. It was almost midnight and you were not home. In a city like New York, filled with people who hated him he already knew what happened. He just couldn't believe he'd let it.

Being confined to a room with nothing but your thoughts gave you a lot of time to think. You'd come to the conclusion that Peter was Spider-Man. He always came back to school with the same injuries, never liked to talk about the topic, but when he did he was always sticking up for the hero, he followed you home, which would explain why you never saw Peter. You just really wished he had been with you today. Peter was so different from the boys in Australia. He was kind, gentle, sweet, thoughtful, humble and himself. The guys back home were, rough, punks, tough and full of themselves. At least, the ones that took an interest in you. This time, you wanted Peter to take an interest in you. You liked New York, apart from now, but hey, at least you could sort your feelings out for the brunette.

You felt like you a pretty good assessment of the situation, if you ever got out of here you were asking Peter on a date.

You had finally begun to doze off when there was a deafening crash somewhere outside your door. There was roaring and the sound of bodies being pushed around. You just chose to wait patiently in the corner of the room in case someone came barging through the door at any moment, but after ten minutes you decided to take matters into your own hands. Someone was here who shouldn't be. Walking up to the door, you slammed your palms onto the smooth wood of the door. A defining echo following it.

"Help! I'm in here!" You shouted, slamming onto the door a little harder. You continued to pound and cry out, waiting and waiting for someone to open the door. It seemed like it was never going to happen and you felt your heart sink to your stomach. You stopped after a few minutes, letting your hands fall to your sides, a sob leaving your lips when the realization finally sunk in. They could put you in a bucket of spiders and you wouldn't cry. You had been trained to deal with that, but not for being kidnapped.

Peter could hear your cries and he was desperately throwing open each door searching for you, but he wasn't having any luck. He felt his heart shatter when the pounding stopped and a small sob took its place. He was running out of time and patience. Your captor's steps were thundering up the stairs tearing through the walls of webs Peter had made.

"C'mon, Peter," He whispered to himself. He still had at least ten doors to go and he was slowly losing it. Door after door there was nothing until he found one that wasn't moving. He threw himself against the wood and stumbled into the room. You stared at him, registering the fact that he was here, you were going to be okay.

"Oh my god, It's you you're actually here," You gaped, standing up.

Peter was breathing heavily as he tore off his mask, "Yeah, I'm here."

You threw yourself into his arms and hid your face in the crook of his neck, he returned the gesture by tightening his grip around you and breathing in the comforting scent of your raspberry shampoo.

"You knew?" He whispers, referring to him without the mask and the lack of shock he received.

"I kind of always did, but if ya don't mind, can we leave?"

You were still clinging onto him and Peter chuckled, "yeah we can, just brace yourself because this is going to be one hell of a ride."

Peter had identified the window at the end of the hallway as his escape plan. He pressed you closer to his chest, mumbling a jump into your hair and slipping his mask back on as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He walked out of the room just as the criminals reached the top of the stairs. He walked backward so that when he burst through the window he would get most of the blow. Gathering enough momentum Peter slammed his back against the window and started free falling. You screamed, watching as the ground was coming to meet you in a matter of seconds, but Peter was quick and he fired a web so that you were swinging.

"Not a fan?" He joked as you hugged him tighter.

"Piss off," You murmur into his neck.

After a few more minutes of endless dropping and swinging, Peter drops you off in front of your apartment. You begrudgingly let go of him, already missing his warmth. He steps forward, arms open thinking about hugging you again but then he pulls back.

"I, um-," He stutters already returning to his old self. You decide to make the move and pull him in for a kiss. You grab his arms and lightly yank him forward, he gulps as he takes in your features. Your lips hesitantly brush over his before he grabs your face pulling you the tiniest bit closer so he could properly kiss you. You let yourself get lost in the moment thinking about how natural this feels when he pulls away.

"Wow," Is all he says.

You grin at him under the dark sky and he watches as you interlock your hands, "Stay?" you offer.

He doesn't hesitate to nod as you pull him inside.

Tagged: @thegirlwiththeimpala @theolwebshooter @honeybittersweet @cams-lynn @multi-universe21 @bibbidibobbidibarnes @abitofeverythinggg @keenmarvellover @ducks

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

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Happy Birthday (steve rogers addition)

Summary- Its your birthday! Tonys throwing you a party and Steve is just a bit shy.

A/N- Happy Birthday @what-is-your-backupplan-today! I hope it's a great day and much love always! Thank you for the many hours of laughs we've shared while discussing fics, animals and just a general love for Steeby.

Your arms were hooked through Natashas and Wandas as they rode the elevator down to the lobby of Stark Towers. Tonight though, it wasn't a lobby, but set up with the finest for a birthday party. Your birthday party. “Kiddo, what better place to have it. Let me take care of everything, you just do your thing.” So along with Natasha and Wanda, you did, and the result, fucking stunning. You actually couldn't wait, dressed up nice and it was time to celebrate. The lobby was transformed beautifully. Full bar set up, balloons, streamers. Tony even had a DJ set up with a dance floor. All your friends were there, you were sure to wander around the room to greet everyone, hugs, and laughs were passed.

At the bar a set of blue eyes followed you shyly around the room, Bucky and Sam standing nearby, both remarking how good you looked. “Damn, Katie knows how to Doll herself right up, I almost didn't recognize her.” Sam was remarking, tonight you really did go all out. Black pants, pink shimmer top with a plunging neckline, hair swooped back into an intricate-looking braid that must have taken some time to put together. The look, much to Steve's pleasure was finished off with just a touch of makeup. Just enough to bring out your eyes, a glow to your cheeks, and those damn kissable lips, the ones that made Steve groan.

Bucky heard and cocked a brow at his friend, eyes moving to scan the crowd till he saw what had Steve’s attention, a grin formed on Bucks's face and he nudged him with his shoulder. “Punk, why don't you go ask her to dance, or come have a drink at the bar? I know she happens to like-"

“Gin, yes I know.” Steve turned back to the bar, beer bottle in hand, picking at the label before taking a swallow. Natasha sidled up to Steve's other side, looking immaculate herself, making herself an order of Vodka, straight up. She wasn't messing around. “Ya know Steve, it's not polite to avoid the guest of honor.” A knowing teasing smirk playing on her lips. “Katies going to be sad.” “I'm not avoiding her, I just see she's busy. I will.” Steve ordered another beer, Nat, and Bucky exchanging a look. Katie was doing nothing more at the moment then talking to Tony and Clint, once in a while a look over to the bar searching out a familiar face, and then back to her conversation. Everyone knew of the attraction these two had towards one another...

Except those two. For a year now they danced around each other in a work friendship that didn't seem to go further. Not that the rest didn't try to do something about it.

Tony clapped his hands together and spoke up. “Alright, birthday presents for Y/N, let's see what goodies we all cooked up for her, shall we?” Everyone moved to gather around, Steve hung towards the back, watching as Katie opened and remarked on each one her gratitude and love for each person who spoiled her. Natasha and Wanda got her gift cards and girl day out to a New York City weekend, Bucky gifted you one of his favorite knives, with the promise to do some practice together learning to use it, Sam got you tickets to a play you had really wanted to see. One for you and a plus one. Tony of course gave you use of his jet to Australia for a couple of weeks. “Bring Happy back a Kangaroo Kiddo, I really want to see one kick his ass.” Pepper scoffed and smacked his chest. “Be nice Tony!”

“Don't worry Tone.” You say with a smirk before hugging him. “He will kick your ass to.”

“By an animal? Never.” Tony sniffed as if insulted. Clint and Sam snickered to each other. “Wanna place a bet?’

The debate suddenly between the group turned into who would beat a Kangaroo when Katie pulled away from the crowd, and up to Steve. Full eyes looking up at him, she smiled and placed her hand on his arm. “Hey, figured I would come to say hi while they are all occupied.”

“Happy Birthday Y/N.” Steve drew you into a hug and pulled away. “Can we step outside for a minute? I want to give you your gift.”

Escaping the crowd, you both wandered out into the lot, getting a bit lost looking up at the stars that seemed particularly brilliant on this clear spring night.

“Mines nothing extravagant like the team got you... But um, I just wanted to give you something a little more personal.” He carefully untucked a folder he had hidden in his back, under his shirt, and handed it to you. Your brows creased in curiosity, opening it. Inside were several pieces of papers, sketches he had done of different things. One was of a picture of a horse you kept on your desk, soft eyes, and a long white stripe down her face, she looked to be looking over a stall door. Another was what you knew to be the view out the window you frequently had your lunch at. Another was you and Bucky, about to pair off on the mats for practice. And more, they all had personal little touches, and to say you were in shock at the gift was an understatement.

“Steve, these are incredible. I don't even know what to say.”

“Well I know they are not some trip or anything...” He seemed to start making an excuse for them and you tugged on his shirt, shaking your head.

“Stop, these are better than anything like that. They are beautiful, thank you.” Relief seemed to warm his blue eyes and a boyish grin lightened his face, a breath of relief whooshing out. “Your welcome, but I would still like to take you out. If you are up for it, will you let me take you to dinner Friday night?” You were careful to put the folder on a nearby bench, biting your lip as you looked at him. “Are we... calling it a date?”

Steve nodded at you. “Yes, a date. May I take you out on a date?” You boldly walked up to him, sliding your arms around his neck, and your eyes twinkled up at him with excitement, a playful grin on your lips that he found, oh so kissable. “Seal it with a kiss and you got a deal Handsome.”

Gentle he placed his hands at your waist, and his eyes moved to your lips. He had wanted to do this since the day you two met, and he let his head lower slowly, pressing his lips to yours. Nothing more than a sweet kiss, a getting familiar with how soft and gentle your lips were against his. But Steve wouldn't have traded that kiss for anything else.

“I KNEW IT! about time you guys!” You two heard, and both your heads whipped around to see everyone standing at the doorway, giving thumbs up and cheering on the two of you.

“Okay, guys! go buzz off!” You shooed at them like they were a bunch of pesky flies needing swatting. Once they all went back inside, leaving the two of you alone once more, Steve let his head fall forward, trying to hide his laughing, nerves, and embarrassment.

“So much for keeping that between us.” He snorted, and you winked up at him. “Don't worry Steve, Friday Night will just be the two of us, or else.” you winked and leaned up to steal one more kiss before taking his hand. “Come on, join me for a dance?”

“Of course Doll.”

#steve rogers x Y/N #steve rogers Drabble #steve rogers fluffy #steve rogers #captain america gets a date!#Happy Birthday Katie #mcu family #sweet and fluffy #amber writes #sweater writes

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anteroom-of-death · 4 years

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Life, For Dummies p4

a/n: any one out here wilding? i’m just vibing and writing comes when you ave zero braincells left...

Waking up was a struggle, you’d never slept that deeply or that well. The combination between a long, hot shower and Earth-shattering sex made it all too easy to sleep. You were so, so sore, but it was good. You admitted you hadn’t been fucked like that, heavens, at all if not for a long while. You looked at the large mirror across from your bed, lifting up your shirt. You had a few book-related bruises.

Stretching and feeling out the fact that you obviously didn’t have your sea legs yet. Your knees and thighs were wobbling and weak.

Then you caught it in the reflection. The collar- your collar. You half- thought it was just a fever dream. But it was real, and it’s weight was light but suddenly very noticable. The ring pressed against your larynx, the bow at the back felt oddly graceful as you flexed your neck to get a better look.

You finally allowed yourself to cry- this was what dreams were made of. (hey now, hey now!) You were exhausted already, you were happy. You felt light years away from where you were before the Master whisked you away. Hell, the last time you saw the Doctor seemed just a memory.

So much had changed. You felt completely different. Yes, you had all your same traits, likes and dislikes. But a week with the Master? Chaotic, mind blowing, devastating, beautiful, enriching and most of all, beyond your wildest dreams and even your deepest darkest wishes.

You definitely were different. The collar around your throat and the bruises and sore, stiff muscles proved you were. Not only were you having a tea party with the Devil, but you were the Devil’s whore.

It was wicked, and all too amazing. He treated you well for the most part. Very well. For only knowing you a week, he seemed to harbor no true ill will.

You got dressed and wracked your brain, reconciling everything finally and putting thoughts in boxes where they needed to go. It was slow, but needed. And time really did not matter anymore. You splashed yourself with cold water from the sink and prepared yourself mentally for outside your solitary walls. You had no clue what was waiting outside and you needed to put yourself out of any more revieries that might pop up. You had a lot of thoughts, and a lot of places to add up. Obviously, pro and con lists were out of the questions these days.

You supposed if this was a standard exchange of power, that rules and limits would be in place, but there was already the imbalance of aliens with knowledge of all of history, time travel, and space. Humans were simpler and had an equal footing. Therefore it was always up for debate.

You were halfway through finishing your daily SPF and thought about what if’s. Where was this all going? You couldn’t ask, obviously. He made it all up as he went along as much, if not more than the Doctor.

Poor Doctor, you allowed yourself to think, picks you up from your mundane routine only for you to better fit in with her best enemy.

Her loss, his gain.

Things added up, morals and ethics wise. The Doctor could be just as callous and just as insane, yet hid behind the greater good. She was a spoonful of sugar whereas he was castor oil. Twin sides of a coin…

You shook yourself from these thoughts. Too much to process in one morning for you, especially without caffeine to mainline.

You finished up and made your way out after stretching and taking a few excedrin you found rattling around the medicine chest. This TARDIS was incredibly intuitive and even materialised all your usual products you used. Or maybe the Master read your mind and supplied them. Either way, it was a big help…

You made your way out and sat down to an already piping hot mug of coffee and a tinkering Master. Your heart and stomach gave a flutter. You rolled your eyes at your over-eagerness.

“You’re finally up, I was worried that I’d have to physically go in there…”

You sloshed into yourself, “How long was I actually asleep?”

“19 hours. I think that qualifies as a coma with you humans.”

“I obviously needed to sleep.” You talked into your coffee mug. It tasted good. Strong, a little crunchy, very much the perfect cup you didn’t have to add anything to.

“Mmn, you made this?” You asked, pointing to the mug held loft in your hand.

“Of course, I know how to make coffee, spent years on the Outback of Australia, I got bored, I know how to be perfect at everything…”

“Yeah, sure, perfect at everything.” You rolled eyes again, this time at him.

“I am the Master.”

“Alright, alright.” You gave a concessional hand. You stared into your coffee and contemplated breakfast. You weren’t usually a big fan of eating in the morning, but all things considered you scraped yourself away from the coffee and started looking through the cupboards to see if anything was appealing to you in the moment. Nothing seemed terribly tasty so you just grabbed a bowl of random cereal and some sort of liquid you assumed was oat milk by the scent.

You felt his eyes studying your back the entire time, you didn’t know if it was in an observational manner or just perversely taking a peek at your backside.

“You like the show?” You demanded jokingly.

“Of course, pet…” He leaned back and placed the device he had down. It was a long silver and gold rod with three prongs at the tip. “I see my pretty little pet has found her pretty little treat.” He went over and flipped a strand of your hair and fingered the collar at your neck before stroking at your sternum. He smiled down and flexed his lips open. The lighting made his teeth glitter dangerously.

The dim lighting really brought out a beautiful tone to his lips. You tried to return to your cereal, but you pecked him on the cheek and steered yourself to a seated position. Temptation could take a temporary back burner. You had to get some semblance of nutrition into you.

He joined you at the table.

“I was thinking of a few ideas, but I wanted your input.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, I can more than enough make my own choices, but to spice it up, why not get some feedback? What chaos shall be wrought today?” He bent over the table, disregarding the personal space needed to eat a bowl of cereal and let actual brain-processing happen.

“What all did you have in mind?” You scooted back infinitesimally and tried to finish breakfast quickly.

He quickly pointed to some post-it notes, “Here’s the name of an intergalactic crime boss who owes me a few favors, figured we could go and rough him up until he squeals, giving me the powerful weaponry we all know he has. Or, here’s a plan to visit a certain set of pepper pots and make some deals that most definitely will backfire, but it would be great fun to see them get frustrated and deny the fact that they can get frustrated. Or I was thinking of visiting Earth and teasing Torchwood and UNIT around early 2000’s Cardiff, you know, for funsies. Oh! What if we went back to Raxacoricofallapatorius and destroyed their nursery?” He was spinning around and fluttering between notebooks and sketches including one where he was strangling a person in an army uniform and a handlebar moustache.

“Jesus, how fast does your brain go?” You massage your temples…

“Too much? Huh? What would you suggest then?” He pouted, placing a hand at his hip and jutting it out.

“Why don’t we just start slow and nothing Earthly? Crime boss seem good? Simple even…” You slurped the milk off the spoon, “But lemme finish Breakfast first!” Pointing it at him, “Slow your roll. Savor the day. Do you Time Lords even sleep?”

“Rarely.”

“Wow, that explains so much.”

He querched an eyebrow, “And what would that be, love?” The love felt oddly formal, not like being called a pet.

“I’ve only met two of you, mind, so I might be generalizing...but the high energy. Like... “ You pressed your fingertips together, “Napping? Don’t you enjoy finding a good place to sleep during the day and just sleeping and enjoying the restfulness and sensations of the sun through a window and maybe a breeze if you open it a bit.”

“No, I’d love to try it, sounds pleasurable…”

“And you said that you were the Master of Everything.” You false-scandalized then laughed, cupping his face and smiling at him. It was great. He really made you laugh in one of those cheesy, stupid ways.

“I could punish you for talking down to your Owner…” He teased right back.

“Oooh...dirty.” You gave a salacious wink.

You could feel the “You have no idea…” radiating from his pores.

“Come along, my pet…” He pulled you from the table and over to the console, “We got a crime boss to torture…”

He punched in the coordinates and grabbed his jacket, then pulled you out the door…

You were toasting your success in the newly acquired weapons-room that now belonged to, as he poured you a little more champagne.

You oddly enjoyed helping torturing the poor sap. He squirmed and you enjoyed him blanching from pain.

The machine you saw him working on was a laser screw-driver? And he gave it to you as he was attaching some high tech hand-cuffs to the man. He told you that the controls were intuitive and to “give it a whirl...see how that grabs you…” Watching the gross little green man scream and shake around, flushing and pleading- felt good. Felt powerful. It brought you a tingle of pleasure and you could see why the Master was fond of it. The device felt good in your hand and after the second whorl of your wrist, it felt like a natural extension. It felt right to hold it in your hand and be able to grasp such power.

A bit of sadism? Then champagne? And the thrill of a steal? All felt like an adrenaline rush.

What were you becoming?

A shred of our conscience echoed about the fact that you, obviously, had to kill him, something the Master allowed you to turn into him and avert your eyes as he shrunk his body and flicked it into a drainage gate. He knew your limits and didn’t go past what he knew you could currently take. You grimaced a bit as you heard a tiny clink. That was a tad harsh.

All in all, a busy day...

He was busy cataloging and cooing at all the tech he had access to his as he put it “fun, evil plans”...

It was hilarious and so endearing to watch. He was like a kid in a candy shop. Soft, feral, incorrigible.

You determined that a small nap whilst tipsy and moonstruck was a great gift to yourself. You felt the collar and played idly with the diamond heart until you blacked out.

You woke up to him watching you. “One of those fabulous little naps you talked of?” He stroked your thigh and massaged the fabric of your shorts. You pulled yourself up and propped yourself up on your elbows and coyly smiled, “Care to join me?” You winked, “Take a walk on the wild side. It’s a real treat. After that...who knows?” You teased him.

He considered it and then loosened the buttons, and took off his jacket before laying it down and rolling up his sleeves. He laid down and you offered him to slide up to you. He obliged stiffly but soonly gave in. You spotted his chest hair and stared at it for a moment. You then acted, you traced it, mildly twirling your finger in its mass, he shuddered and then left you to continue. You laid down your head on his chest and felt his hearts pounding between two different beats.

He murmured, “Keep the screwdriver. A little gift. From me to you…” You felt his hearts hitch a bit.

Sighing, you told him, “Relax." You let out a sleepy little moan. You embraced the warmth of his body and soothing echoing in his chest like a whitenoise machine. "You're doing excellent.." The Master eased up and you felt yourself ease up and drift off. You dreamt of falling through water and waves and the scent of fires and musk. You could feel a pair of eyes watching you, but they felt nonjudgmental, just guiding you deeper down. Deeper under the spell of sleep and total darkness.

#personal #i wrote this #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #the master #master x reader #reader insert #doctor who self insert fiction #fanfic #sacha dhawan

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timeagainreviews · 5 years

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The Great Con-Junction

For a place like the world-famous Elstree Studios in London, history is made on the regular. Movies like "Who Framed Roger Rabbit," "Hot Fuzz," and even "Star Wars" have all been captured to celluloid moving at twenty-four frames per second. However, it was a lesser-known, though no less ambitious film that had eager fans lining up around the block on a mild February morning nearly forty years later. The film I speak of is none other than Jim Henson's 1982 cult-classic "The Dark Crystal." Myself and at least 200 other attendees were gathered for the first official Dark Crystal convention, celebrating both the film and the Netflix series. Taking place at the very studio where the movie was filmed, Thames Con's "The Great Con-Junction," was also the biggest reunion of the original cast and crew since the film's release. Once again, history was being made at Elstree Studios.

Upon learning of the convention I was filled with both desire and regret. Desire to go, and regret that I most likely wouldn’t be able. I live in Glasgow which is 6.5 hours away from London by car, and I don’t drive. On top of that, I hadn’t any money saved for such an occasion. But through the generosity of several friends, my mother, and my boyfriend willing to drive me there, the impossible was suddenly very tangible. With only twenty days until the convention, I was one of the lucky few able to attend this momentous affair.

It may seem odd that such a niche convention could draw someone from as far away as Glasgow, and in some cases the US and Australia. But if you’ve ever been to a Star Trek or My Little Pony convention, you may have some idea as to the sort of passion we’re dealing with. For many, Dark Crystal isn’t merely a great creative property, it’s life-changing. As a child, Jim Henson’s work left an indelible mark upon my soul. Projects like "Fraggle Rock," "Storyteller," and "The Flintstones," inspired creativity in me and filled me with the desire to one day work for the Jim Henson Company. Sadly, years of adulting did their best to dull that flame to a mere ember. However, after last year’s premiere of "The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance," that ember grew into a roiling fire.

For the past month, I’ve been a ball of excited energy leading up to the convention. I’ve immersed myself in all things Jim Henson. Whether it be rewatching the Netflix series for the umpteenth time, revisiting Labyrinth, or reading JM Lee’s YA Dark Crystal novels, it’s been all I could do not to crack up. In the final week leading up to the event, I directed this nervous excitement into creating a cosplay as the Crystal of Truth, wrapped in black chains and metal claws. When the day finally arrived and I found myself waiting in line with other excited fans decked out in purple, or cosplaying as Deet or Rian, I knew I was with my people. The air was abuzz with excitement as we were slowly ushered into the building.

The event hall at Elstree was decorated with posters of scenes from the movie along with mood lighting. Part of the ticket cost afforded each attendee a beautiful signed print by Brian Froud. A bar at the entrance was selling official Dark Crystal merch including the ThinkGeek Fizzgig puppet only available in the states. Right away I had blown most of my budget, but my new furry friend would agree I made the right choice! I’d been there not two minutes, and already my arms were full of swag. I took this opportunity to get my Fizzgig and a book signed by both Brian and Wendy Froud, who were very generously autographing people’s items for free.

Usually, conventions leave a bad taste in my mouth as they seem like supremely capitalist ventures. And while there were plenty of things to buy, the Frouds’ generosity set the real tone of the event. Not only were they generous with their autographs, but they were also incredibly generous with their time. It seemed as though every person that talked to them was given an opportunity to gush and share their personal stories. As I told them both how much their work meant to me, they were treating it as though it were the first time they had heard it that day. Brian even took the time to doodle a little Fizzgig and Skeksis for me alongside his whimsical signature. The impression they left me with is that they were both very genuine and down to earth people, and meeting them is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

One of the things Mr Froud shared with me was that in his experience, people’s reaction to the Dark Crystal is usually always something creative. People go off and make fan art, cosplays, puppets, or even their own artistic endeavours. You could see proof of this all around the room that day. I met a brilliant artist from Seattle named Nori (@noriretherford), who in exchange for doodles from attendees was giving beautiful prints of her fan art. I drew my best skekTek from memory and have the cutest depiction of Seladon, Tavra, and Brea playing as children to show for it. There were cosplays with humbling levels of detail and even the occasional puppets of people’s original characters. All around you, creativity was swirling, and people were passionately sharing their enthusiasm with one another.

These initial couple of hours were dedicated to meet and greets with the cast, crew, and fellow attendees. Everyone seemed just as interested to listen as they were to share. One attendee remarked to me how she had never before felt more encouraged to speak to strangers than she had at the convention. Even my boyfriend, who is generally shy, was coming out of his shell and joining in the conversations. I was also pleased that the convention was managed well enough that I didn’t spend my entire day waiting in line to meet someone while he was relegated to watching my things. I was actually able to share this experience with him as opposed to relaying it through dreamfasting later. This made meeting the guests less of a thing to check off a list, and more of an experience.

My only real qualm with the structure of the convention was the Skeksis tea which was offered as part of the ticket price. Since I was unaware that the guests would be available all day, I was a bit late to lunch meaning the banquet was completely picked over by the time we had gotten there. No amount of cute creative table displays or impressively crafted Nebrie cake could obscure the fact that we were forced to find our lunch at the McDonalds across the road. Furthermore, I was unaware that the lunch was buffet style, which meant that if someone wanted to be as gluttonous as skekAyuk, it would leave the rest of us hungry. We were not alone in this, as several others were left to look upon the empty tables with dismay. That being said, for a first-time convention, it’s impressive that so little went awry.

For me, the biggest highlight of the day was getting to actually see the Gelfling puppets along with their respective puppeteers. Both Beccy Henderson and Neil Sterenberg had Deet and Rian with them. I’m not ashamed to admit that I hugged Deet. Being able to see the detail of the puppets and feel the various textures employed by the brilliant fabricators at the Jim Henson Creature Workshop was mindblowing. Not to mention that both Beccy and Neil were just as generous with their time as the Frouds. Though I would have to say the most exciting puppet I met that day has to go to Hup, as Victor Yerrid was actually puppeteering him and speaking directly to attendees in Podling. Hearing Hup say my name and talk to me was overwhelmingly exciting! That man is a brilliant puppeteer.

Throughout the day there were also several panels with guests from both the TV show and the movie. It was fascinating to listen to each of them tell their stories. Whether it be anecdotes about Jim Henson or tales about trying to navigate hot costumes under studio lights, it was a treasure trove of information. Listening to these stories was a constant reminder of the sheer amount of history present in the room. Each one of these guests had their own incredible careers, and here they all were, ready to share their fantastic stories. Yet despite this being an intimate gathering of a small group of creatives reuniting after 38+ years, it never once felt like it was all about them. You didn’t feel like an interloper or an evesdropper. We were all part of this wonderful experience together.

It was puppeteer Louise Gold’s remarks to the crowd about this that really put into words what we were all thinking. Through stifled tears, she remarked that she had initially come to see all of her old friends, but had found herself equally enriched by meeting the fans. Seeing all of us come together and sharing our stories was as inspiring to her as it was for us. Hearing her impassioned words moved quite a few of us to tears, myself included. She was easily one of my favourite people I met yesterday, and not just because she was so wonderfully extra. Her words spoke the same truth as Brian Froud's- what has resulted from this fandom is something creative. The Dark Crystal hasn’t simply entertained, it has changed lives.

Of course, like any good convention, it wasn’t just the guests in the spotlight. The cosplay contest allowed for an opportunity for the fans to strut their stuff. Much like the ticket giveaway the organisers had done, they couldn’t decide on just one winner. There was so much goodwill and positivity flowing that honourable mentions were given prizes as well, and with good reason. There were so many incredible costumes that I doubt I could have picked the best of the lot. There were Gelflings, Skeksis, a Hup, and even an urRu! My favourite of the lot was a mother-daughter duo who went as Brea and Kira respectively. But that may just have to do with the fact that I’m a big Brea fan and her costume was incredible!

Were I to think of any one word to explain how I feel about being able to attend this convention it would be grateful. I left feeling rejuvinated. My boyfriend even commented that I was “glowing.” I wish everyone in the fandom could have the same experience. I’ve seen so many passionate fans online in the last day wishing they could have gone, and I very easily could have been one of them. It’s proof to me that this fandom has more to it than just a few people toiling away in their basements. There is a real desire for these types of events. It’s not hard to imagine people declaring their Gelfling clan like Harry Potter fans might declare themselves Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws. (I’m totally a Vapran.) If you look online, you can see people’s OCs of both Gelfling and Skeksis. Even I’ve considered putting together my own Gelfling Gathering here in Glasgow. I’m hopeful that this is a sign of things to come, and that we won’t have to wait a thousand trine for the next Great Con-Junction.

#the great con-junction #the great conjunction #the dark crystal #thamescon #london #brian froud #wendy froud #louise gold #beccy henderson #neil sterenberg #victor yerrid #skeksis #gelfling #hup #poddling #the dark crytsal: age of resistance #fizzgig #elstree studios

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mamapeach7 · 4 years

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Daeul

Preview / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / bonus

Chapter 16

Hyuk smiled warmly at Daeul before patting his head and taking a seat next to him at the dining table. “Sleep well, Daeul?”

“The host came by early and dropped this off.”, he said as he gently placed a bag of peaches on the table, flashing Hanji a smile.

She grabbed the bag and took the contents out to wash them, trying to distract herself from Hyuk’s warm gazes.

“Alright, I have some work to finish up today so...You two okay with being alone?”, Hyuk asked with a brow raised.

Hanji looked toward Daeul and didn’t miss the look of disappointment on his face upon hearing what his dad had said. To reassure him she spoke, “We’ll be fine -- I think he said he wanted to go for a swim so I-I’ll take him.”

She pointed lightly to the backyard of their temporary home, directing to the small pool outside.

Hyuk nodded softly before patting Daeul’s head once more and pecking his cheek lightly.

“Alright, I’ll see you later then.”, he said with a small smile toward Hanji before leaving, making her hold her chest when he wasn’t looking.

Their three days had been spent either walking by the beach, eating or just lazing around the house waiting for Hyuk to return so they could actually do something productive.

The doorbell rang when Daeul and Hanji sat by the pool, making them turn to each other in confusion.

Hanji wrapped the boy around with a towel before grabbing her black silk robe designed with roses, to cover herself up. Afterall, she wouldn’t appreciate a stranger eyeing her down even in a white one-piece.

When she opened the door, there was no one there rather a small envelope on the doormat.

She allowed Daeul to wait behind her as she picked it up and pulled out the contents of it, which was a small note with writing all too familiar to her.

Meet me at The Leo by seven o’clock.

Jerico will come by to pick up Daeul at six.

Hyuk.

Who the hell is Jerico?, she furrowed her brows and turned to Daeul who jutted his bottom lip as he waited to get changed out of his wet clothes.

Well apparently Jerico was an employee from the nearby villas who ran the daycare for families. He certainly came by at six o’clock sharp to pick Daeul up who cried loudly upon being sent away.

Not being able to bear seeing him so upset, Hanji herself volunteered to come along with them to drop him off and she would find her own way to the restaurant which Hyuk had informed her about.

She felt a slight tinge inside her with the remembrance of the incident they had been through months before -- their hands tied together with tape and rope and guns pointed at their heads.

But then Jerico let her know that they had the boy’s father’s full consent and that he would be safe under any circumstances, and she certainly trusted Hyuk at this point.

They were generous enough to bring her to The Leo, dropping her off at the front.

She walked through the open doors in her long white dress, another white cardigan placed on her shoulders as she wore her hair down. She made sure to wear a long-lasting perfume and lotioned her arms thoroughly.

“Miss Oh.”, she heard a voice say.

“This way please.”, the voice belonged to an usher of sorts who led her past the chattering customers and toward the back of the restaurant.

When he opened the door, she hesitantly took a step in and instantly her eyes laid upon Kwon Hyuk himself who sat at a small table for two, swirling the ice in his water.

He lifted his head and met her eyes, smiling instantly upon seeing her. Standing up quickly, he pulled a chair out for her which she was shy to take at first but eventually did thanks to the warm smile on his face.

“You made it.”, he said once he sat down in his own seat, making her smile tightly as a shy blush crept upon her cheeks.

Leaning his elbows on the table, Hyuk lowered his head. “I uh...I’m sorry I’ve been so busy with work -- I-I didn’t bring the two of you here all to leave you alone.”

“No, no! I-I get it, and it’s not like you’re not trying at all. And D-Daeul knows how to have fun, anyway.”, she giggled.

Just then the same usher, now a waiter it seemed, delivered them a bottle of red wine and poured a small amount into their glasses. Two other waiters brought what Hanji guessed their appetizers were -- Polynesian chicken wings, which made her smile at Hyuk’s simplicity.

“I hope he hasn’t been giving you too much of a hard time.”

“N-No, not at all!”, Hanji said as they shyly picked up a piece of their meal. “Y-You know, he looks so much like you. I-It’s almost as if you gave birth to him yourself.”

She laughed in between her words, making Hyuk laugh loudly himself. He threw his head back making noises which made Hanji widen her eyes.

Is he choking? Oh my gosh, he’s choking!

“I...Haven’t...Heard that one before.”, he said laughing throughout his sentence. Okay, you’re okay.

“Yea he uh, well I’ve been told he looks and acts a lot like me but in a way...he’s like his mom too.”

This made Hanji freeze in her spot, awkwardly holding a small chicken wing between her fingers. “H-His mom.”

He seemed comfortable talking about her -- continuing to break apart a chicken wing as he spoke. “Yea, but we haven’t spoken since he was born.”

“C-Can you tell me about her?”

He comfortably explained to her that Daeul’s birth mom had held a relationship with Hyuk since his early twenties, and that when he was twenty-seven she had gotten pregnant with his son.

“At that time she was applying for a job in Australia and I wanted her to stay here for the sake of the baby and of course...I-I thought we would become a family.”

Two months after Daeul was born and after having lived with Hyuk and his family in the grand home of his parents, she had gotten the job in Sydney. However, she promised that she would return one day for Hyuk and their child and they would continue their life together.

“That was almost three years ago.”

Hanji looked longingly at him, her eyes beginning to show pity which was possibly the last thing he needed.

Sighing heavily, he said, “She’s married now, though.”

Hanji closed her eyes momentarily in both shock and disappointment, not knowing exactly how to comfort him.

“I...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I got to keep Daeul.”, Hyuk smiled warmly.

“D-Do you still think about her?”, Hanji asked hesitantly, fiddling with her thumbs under the table.

Jutting his bottom lip, Hyuk nodded softly making the woman in front of him lower her head with a certain clench in her heart. You’ve no right to feel jealous, Oh Hanji.

“Every now and then. But don’t worry...There’s been someone else on my mind as of late.”

Hyuk tilted his head and waited for Hanji to raise her head and once she did, he locked eyes with her. A small smirk on his face let her know that whatever she was thinking in that moment, she was correct. That maybe, just maybe she was that person occupying his thoughts lately.

Just then they heard the soft sound of cellos and what Hanji could only make out, a violin. She smiled tightly, looking over to the balcony right on her left side and saw a small quartet on the floor below them.

Then she caught a glimpse of the setting sun right before her, the orange and yellows merging together with the turquoise water, making her wonder where the sea ended and the sky began.

“Do you want to dance?”

Ripping her eyes away from the view, she saw Hyuk’s hand to her right and they travelled to meet his gaze, now standing right next to her.

I’ve never danced.

He gently grabbed a hold of her hand which made her stand up on instinct before he wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her close. She felt awkward. His face which she had admired from afar now just mere centimeters away from hers and his eyes piercing into hers.

She gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders lowering her head to avoid his gaze.

“I haven’t done this in a while.”, he softly said to her.

I haven’t done this ever.

“Are you feeling alright?”, he asked with slight worry in his voice.

Hanji still kept her gaze away from his. “I-Is this alright? I uh, I don’t know how people will react to a caretaker dancing with her employ--”

“Are you afraid of what people will say?”, he questioned and she knew the way his brows looked without even glancing at him.

She nodded slowly, feeling slightly embarrassed of her pride. “Are you afraid because you don’t feel the same way?”

If it wasn’t the tension that made her finally look at him, it was definitely his question. They stopped swaying as she stared into his eyes longingly, her mouth slightly agape.

“W-What do--”

“I know you still think about what I’ve said -- about know-knowing your place…”

“...But now...I-I want you out of that place.”

He tightened his grip around her, pulling her even closer to his chest. “C-Can we try something?”. Hanji quickly glanced at his lips before nodding softly.

“I-In this moment, right now. L-Look at me as me. Not as your employer, Oh Hanji…”

And with that, he closed the mere distance between them by softly attaching their lips to each other. To say Hanji melted would be an understatement -- she could feel her body pushing itself into Hyuk’s as her eyes finally closed to enjoy their moment.

The instrumental of John Legend’s Ordinary People complimented their shared kiss -- soft moans exchanged every now and then as they entangled their lips with open-mouthed kisses.

Somewhere in the middle, Hyuk slightly raised Hanji from the ground by her waist, her chest still pressed against him, twirling her around making them break apart from their kiss as she giggled quietly into his ear.

When he placed her down, he kissed her once more before pulling her into a tight hug with his nose nuzzled into the smooth skin of her neck.

Fun Story Fact #16:

Hanji’s silk robe is inspired by one the writer owns.

#dean #deantrbl #deanfluenza #kwon hyuk #story

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thejosh1980 · 4 years

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Update #21 – 1 week at “The Ocean Shores Resort”

A week ago we left quarantine in Adelaide!!!

It's been another week of mixed emotions, but I have to say, for the first time in months, they've been mostly on the positive side of things.

Last Tuesday, we left the hotel without too much hassle. They'd given us a basic breakfast the night before to have first thing and they called us down early; luckily we were ready and down the stairs we went. Before you know it, we were in the hotel reception taking our masks off!

Adelaide and South Australia are COVID free, so no masks, no problems.

The checkout was quick (the big bill comes in a few weeks!!), the staff were awesome and the police informative. They all understand that quarantine is not easy on anyone, and they were patient with our questions and worries. We had won the jackpot of quarantine hotels: Pullman Adelaide and the staff helped make our stay tolerable.

Jumped in a taxi (with masks on cause we really weren't sure yet how to behave in the outside world) and off to the airport. We had to leave the hotel by 07:30, because another bus of incoming “Covicts” were coming in that morning. Our flight was at 11:50 up to Brisbane, so it was yet another waiting game to check in and fly. But first... coffee! (we actually bought a coffee from a coffee shop! Amazing!! It's the small things...).

The flight was about about 2/3's full, no masks.

Landing in Brisbane we had to do a border check, show our papers, explain where we had been and all that. The check was there to stop anyone who may have COVID from coming in without quarantining. Each State has slightly different rules, and they do change from time to time, depending on hotspots and COVID numbers. Because the flight was from Adelaide and we left the hotel directly to the airport, we made sure we had no problems entering Brisbane (Queensland). We definitely didn't want any chance of another 14 day hotel stay!!!

Our original plan was to fly into the Gold Coast airport, which is only about 35 minutes from Mum, but there were no flights on our leaving day, so we had to fly into Brisbane (which is 2 hours from Mum's). My cousin picked us up (bloody legend!). We were hungry, and we went directly to Yatala pies. This was the moment I started to realize we were almost home. The taste of home! (Yatala Pies is a well known bakery south of Brisbane, a regular stop for many).

My cousin could drive us as far as the QLD/NSW border. Once there, we walked across the border and Dave picked us up on the other side. A little complicated, but sure enough, the plan worked.

The whole experience felt like something out of the movies. Not that it was all “Hollywood”. It was more like: I can't believe this is finally happening. I wasn't really in the moment. Yet.

As we were getting close to “The Ocean Shores Resort” (which is the name we have for my Mum's house) I still didn't feel calm...

Anyhow, we arrived, and if you've seen our IG or FB Story on the day, you'd know that when I knocked on the front door, we had actually surprised Mum (a little early), and she couldn't find the front door key to let us in!! So our reunion started off with a scream and eventually a laugh!!

Mum did cry, but we all expected her to cry more... ;) Honestly, I think we both had cried too much the past 2 months, it was no longer needed. It was all about joy and happiness.

After meeting and hugging Alex (some more tears) we entered the house to find Mum had a “welcome home” sign and our picture up on the walls (lots of me and Alex, can't go wrong with that!!).

It was surreal.

A quick house tour for Alex and we settled down. Lots of chatting and catching up to do, and a roast dinner!

We'd made it.

The next morning (Wednesday), a son's work is never done and I was up early to take Mum to school. She's part of the support unit inside the primary school, working with kids with Autism.

Even though her eyesight is deteriorating, Mum can still work. Driving a car; that's out of the question. Reading the “use by date” on a packet of chips is almost impossible. Keeping an eye on children in the playground, developing their social skills or helping them with their school work (considering the text is usually quite large and the pictures bold) Mum can still do really well.

I've learnt she has figured out ways to cope with her eyes. She has a great memory, so once she's told something, she can remember it really well (like recipes for cooking etc). She's still a keen bargain hunter when it comes to shopping. I enjoy learning that she's kept her life as close to “normal” as possible, making small changes to the bigger things to keep her independence.

But it's those small things that are hard to do alone, which is why I'm here...

After dropping Mum off, Alex and I spent the morning of our first full day in Brunswick Heads. This is the town I lived in from the mid 80's until late 90's. I went to primary school here, learned to surf here, and know the old names of the shops (the hair dressers is now a surf shop, the butcher's is a cafe, the ice cream shop is a real estate agent and the bank has recently closed). Lots of changes for me, lots of new things for Alex.

We also went down to the beach, the south wall of the Brunswick River, where the river meets the ocean. We watched some waves. Taking in the salt air (I don't think I ever realized how salty the air is here until now).

It was a relaxing day.

But I still wasn't quite “here” in my head and heart. Leaving Dresden back in July, only to be delayed for 7 weeks, then another 2 weeks in quarantine, was going to take sometime to overcome.

Time to pick up Mum from school... Home... Unpack a little, dinner, chatting and a little TV.

Thursday morning, it was time for another radio interview. To finish off the 3 part story with ABC North Coast Radio I did another live interview with Joanne Shoebridge. I'm always nervous doing these kinds of things, even though in the music world, I've had to do interviews, they were never quite as personal as this.

After we dropped Mum off at school Thursday morning, we drove up to the Cape Byron Lighthouse and luckily got a park up close to the top.

I wanted to introduce Alex to the area as much as I could, without overwhelming her. Brunswick Heads, Ocean Shores, Mullumbimby and Byron Bay all played a big part of my childhood, and I wanted her to at least know these villages a little bit as early as possible. We'd covered Brunswick Heads and Ocean Shores a little, so now it was time for Byron Bay.

Bring on the whale watching!!

Within minutes of leaving the car, we could see whales jumping out and swimming around the cape. It was a wonderful morning. I'm so glad Alex got to see them (in fact I can't remember the last time I saw whales so close to the shore). They migrate each year around September/October, so it was perfect timing.

It was a special day for Alex...

The sun was shining, the whales were in plain sight and the tourists were kind enough to stay away from Byron Bay. COVID does have its benefits. Fewer people in these tourist spots isn't always bad (although I am quite aware the economy is suffering. The borders are opening up next week and it'll be very busy then).

Back into Ocean Shores, picked up Mum from school. Home... Dinner.. Chatting... Some TV...

Friday was the first day we had to do “stuff” in regards to living here permanently, and that was banking. So after dropping mum off at work, we drove into Mullumbimby “The Biggest Little Town In Australia”. I went to high school here.

Basically Brunswick Heads and Mullumbimby are like Neustadt in Dresden. You can't walk down the street without seeing someone you know, stopping and chatting. It happened in Brunz the other day, I literally parked my car, and lo and behold an old high school friend came out of the video store to say hi... Or in Mullum, as we arrive at the bank I see an old friend who used to teach me rock n roll dancing (yeah, I can still cut a rug)... and even inside the bank, I said hi to a fella from my high school year, we hadn't seen each other since 1997.

It's a small world...

The banking took a bit longer than expected, after much back and forward we settled on our new bank accounts and how to arrange things going forward. While I've had an account here since I was very very young, I cancelled most of my stuff when I left in 2002, so now it was time to set up shop again, especially since I had my wife with me and we have a future to work towards...

We walked the street of Mullum, grabbed a coffee and we let the country hippy vibe soak in. Alex commented on how many folks don't wear shoes here and she can't believe how many new coffee shops there are for her to try (there's a lot more than when I was a kid).

Picked up Mum from school... School holidays for 2 weeks! Yippeee!!

Home... Dinner... Chatting... some TV...

Over the weekend we sorted out things around the house. Set up better internet Wifi around the house, the pool is in good condition after the winter sleep, cupboards got cleaned out and we unpacked and the car was washed (first time I've hand washed a car in over a decade!).

Sunday I watched Mark's live stream (from his front porch in upstate New York) and I felt inspired (he does that to me). So I am considering live streaming next week. I have a guitar and good internet, so why not? I just have to find time to practice ;) I'm thinking net Sunday evening here, which would be Sunday lunch time in Germany. If I don't get to it this Sunday, then maybe next Sunday... I'll keep you posted.

Overall the weather has been warm, often over 20 degrees. But the mornings are still quite chilly, with frosty dew on the golf course out back. It's not bad for coming out of winter...

Today, Monday, we went “up the coast”, to Tweed Heads.

First thing we tried to exchange my German license for a mandatory NSW (State) license, unfortunately I gotta wait for some back checks, no idea what I did 19 years ago in Melbourne, but they wanna check it out. So onwards to shopping...

Yes!!! We bought a coffee machine! Finally we can wake and with a press of a button get ourselves a cup of joe. It's the small things....

Helped mum with the grocery shopping. She knows her stuff. She knows where everything is in every shop, but sometimes she just needs me to reassure her what is actually written on the box or package!!!

So that's basically our first week...

We are settling in well. Alex and Mum get on like a house on fire. I often can't get a word in edgewise and I'm always outvoted!

I still miss Germany and I still miss Europe... (I always will). I miss a lot of the “past life”, but that's just cause Australia has moved on without me these past 18 years. Each day here I get a little closer to that homey feeling I used to have as a teenager (when I didn't know better).

In hindsight, the past 3 months wasn't too bad... We survived... But that's easy to say now...

When we were in the middle of it, it was really tough.

It was really hard packing up our lives into boxes. It was emotionally draining saying goodbye after goodbye to our wonderful friends. Playing my goodbye show was one of the musical highlights of my life, even if it was one of the saddest.

Then we were ready to leave...

As you all know, that didn't go according to plan.

That's when the really bad feelings crept in. You know it's one thing to know you gotta pack up and say goodbye to leave (you are prepared for that)... It's another when you're ready and the world says “nope, not yet”... and again and again that build up and let down was happening, and until the last 2 weeks in Germany, we had no idea why!

As some of you know, I'm not really good at spontaneity. I'm not good when the plan changes... It was tough... But...

When we took control of the situation and booked new flights, it helped a lot. We were back in control.

Quarantine was a difficult time, it got a little dark there. It brought with it, it's own set of challenges and a steep learning curve. I, for one, learnt a lot about pressure. I put too much pressure on myself. Since we arrived here, I have tried my best to relax more, in my own way at least. My to do lists are shorter...

Alex and I had already figured out how to survive the German lockdown, the packing up of our lives and clearing out the apartment. Then we had 2 months at her parents stuck in “limbo” and then 2 weeks stuck in a room together. Our marriage is really new, and we survived that without any damage to our relationship. Sure, we both have a few personal scars, but nothing a little love and tenderness wont fix. I'm proud of her, Alex has a lot of patience for me!

I'm really happy I am here to help Mum each day. Those small things will slowly become bigger things, but for now, it's great to be able to do “stuff” with her. That was always the plan, to be here in time, before things got really bad.

We've been posting often on our IG and FB stories, so I hope folks have seen the day to day happenings. I'm sure we'll continue with that, keeping you up to date visually.

I think I'll end these FB journals here, and switch over to Tumblr full time. The idea being that if you'd like to continue to read these long “new life” chronicles, I'll still post a link here when I do update there... Confused? Me too! ;)

Thanks everyone for your messages of support and love. We are very lucky, we have the best friends.... You guys rock! You're awesome! We love you.

Love

Josh and @dauntlesscoffee

#travelblog #australia #byron bay #whale watching #coming home #covid

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