#it comes back in december but it had some awesome stalls | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

riddleblack246 · 4 years ago

Photo

For @scoobydean and @destielsecretsanta2020

“This could be nice for Jack.”

“’My First Christmas’. Cas, this is meant for babies.”

“It’s still his first Christmas with us.”

“That mean we should get one for you too?”

“If you’d like.”

Read below for some Team Free Will 3.0 holiday head canons~!

After everything goes down with Jack makes use of his new abilities, Sam and Dean are much more willing to fight to keep him with them. He initially wonders if it is because he’s “useful” to them now. The brothers promptly inform him that no, it’s because this is the first time where they can all feel safe enough to take a breath. Sure, they’re still hunters. But after everything they’ve been through, they all deserve a chance to enjoy life without constantly looking over their shoulders. And so Jack stays.

As promised, he brought back those that were loved and lost. Obviously everyone is relieved and thankful, but that is most clearly seen in the return of Eileen and Castiel. Sam and Eileen are quick to pick up where they left off. Castiel, however, is a bit more hesitant. He didn’t expect to ever see Dean again. He truly thought he wouldn’t have to know Dean’s feelings and when he confessed, he felt he could live with that. But now he’s suddenly back in this world, aware of his existence and the knowledge that he told the man he’d been in love with for over a decade how he felt. But Dean doesn’t allow him to panic for long. Enveloping Cas in his arms, he’s squeezing the angel’s vessel so tightly that he can barely get out the words. Nonetheless, he does and finally returns the sentiment that Castiel never expected to hear.

“I love you too, Cas.”

And now to dig into holiday centric joys!

By the time Christmas rolls around, the bunker’s primary couples have developed a sense of routine. Eileen has finally moved in and Dean and Castiel have eased into a comfortable romantic domesticity. And for the first time in a while, there are no hunts to investigate or major threats to take on, and the Winchesters found themselves able to celebrate the holidays in a way that they hadn’t had a chance to in some time (save for the Mrs. Butters stint).

On the first of December, Dean sits down in the library and begins to make a list, trying to figure out exactly what was expected of a traditional Christmas. When Sam catches him, he expects scoffs of disagreement or just bored indifference. Instead, he supplies the idea of inviting some people to the bunker.

“What, Sammy? You want to throw a Christmas rager?” (The statement does earn him an eye roll)

“No. I just thought it might be nice. See everyone together.”

Neither of them explicitly say why it would be nice, but they know the relief that would come with seeing each person they never expected to see again. Dean tasks his brother with making a guest list and sending out an e-mail to those on it (because Dean draws the line at trying to make actual invitations).

The response is overwhelmingly positive and soon enough, they’re fielding constant texts from Garth, asking if it would be okay to bring his kids, and e-mails from Donna, offering to bake a multitude of requested holiday treats.

Amidst holiday planning, the group allows themselves to give into expectations of the season. Jack and Castiel are largely in the dark of what is or isn’t part of the holidays and while Dean, Sam, and Eileen aren’t the most immersed, they do have an idea of what is to be done and are admittedly eager to dive in.

One of the first things on Dean’s list is to decorate a tree. He even insists on cutting one down himself, as aside from various times he had to cut and sharpen his own stakes, it’s something he’s never had a chance to do. Sam, reluctant to join him, tells his brother to have fun. In the spirit of “giving”, Dean bring Cas and Jack along, assuring Sam and Eileen that they’ll “be a while ;)”. They return some hours later with a tree that rivals the Rockefeller Center and relief in the fact that they have two celestial beings to transport something of that size. Decorating it is another story.

After digging through the bunker and finding that, no, the Men of Letters did not hoard Christmas ornaments or wreaths or any such things among their piles of artifacts and cursed objects, the groups decides to get a little shopping done. They initially hit a big box store for a bunch of basics - lights, tinsel, various colored balls (Dean makes several jokes about this), but as the month goes on, all of them are guilty of picking up random items to decorate with while out.

Eileen delightedly shows her boys a Christmas pyramid she bought and is quick to tell Jack that he can’t light it whenever he wants, as forgetting about it could result in burning down the bunker.

Sam buys all of them advent calendars, each dedicated specifically to every member of the bunker. Dean doesn’t comment on Sam’s shift toward the holiday spirit, not only because he’s happy that his brother has allowed himself to be more joyfully invested in things, but also because every day for the month he gets to appreciate a new and weird specialty bottle of hot sauce. Sam’s own contains different types of tea, Eileen’s has jam, Jack’s has little LEGO figures, and Castiel’s has coffee.

Jack nearly gives Dean a heart attack one morning when the man wakes up to find a nutcracker as tall as he is in the crow’s nest. Jack tells him all about finding it in a shop he and Castiel passed when getting supplies and insisting that it was a perfect thing to have for the bunker. Dean looks to Castiel and knows the angel would have been too soft to say no. Then again, he knows he would have been just as guilty.

Castiel begins buying ornaments for people in the bunker. Even with Dean teasing him about it, he does buy a “my first Christmas” ornament and puts a photo of Jack inside that Eileen helped him print out. He finds that he is particularly fond of ornaments that contain photos and begins to buy ones for that explicit purpose.

Dean doesn’t necessarily have a type of decoration that he finds himself buying outside of what they have, but he is fond of the lights. He usually insists they stay on as long as allotted, urging whoever is the last to go to bed to turn them off (though it’s usually himself).

When it does snow, Dean is eventually irritable about it with Sam and Eileen in a similar boat, though to a lesser degree. Shoveling snow out of the way of the bunker’s entrance is a pain in the ass and none of them love the chore of getting treads on their respective tires. But seeing Jack’s fascination with it - and realizing that it’s his first time encountering snow, they find themselves softening.

After getting help in clearing access to the bunker, the group spends much of the day outside. There is an unspoken agreement that they want Jack to experience all the great enjoyments of snow and it honestly brings out the kid in them too. They build a mediocre snowman (Sam takes the heat for his poor artistic skills), make snow angels (the jokes about Castiel doing so get old within five minutes), have a snowball fight (Eileen is fucking ruthless and not above putting snow down jackets), and creating makeshift sleds to race. The sledding is what ultimately makes them go back inside. Garbage can lids are hard to steer and after Dean eats it by running into a tree and loosing a tooth, even Cas fixing it doesn’t resolve the choice to go in. Nonetheless, the accident doesn’t stall the mood, as Dean insists on introducing Jack to one more awesome component of the Traditional Snow Day - the hot chocolate at the end. Said hot cocoa almost results in a fight when, after Dean makes enough for all of them, Castiel reluctantly admits that he doesn’t care for it, and Dean and Jack nearly come to childish blows over who gets his mug. Later that evening, Castiel makes sure to thank Dean privately for allowing Jack to have it. ;)

Now, when it comes to cooking, Dean likes to consider himself pretty well-versed. Baking is another story. The preciseness that’s required is what gets him. Sure, he can be meticulous, but he’s always been more of a “little of this, a bunch of that” kind of guy over exact measurements, which leaves a lot more room for error when it comes to baking. But after going on a “Gilmore Girls” binge with Castiel (the couple constantly debates the superior show of the former and “Dr. Sexy, M.D.”), he can’t help imagining a scene of tenderly showing Cas how to roll out dough and mussing some flour in his hair and watching the angel lick the spoon in a way that borders on pornographic. The day after watching, he’s searching for cookie recipes and telling Castiel to dig out some aprons.

As is the Winchester way, this expectation does not come to fruition. Cas, as he thought, didn’t know a thing about cooking or baking. But Dean pictured being able to guide him, to do all the romantic shit you see in Hallmark movies. Instead, the angel is complaining about not being able to just will the baked goods into existence, standing in the way when Dean needs to get any kind of ingredient, and getting flour on every fucking surface in the kitchen. Things reach a boiling point when Cas pulls the cookies out of the oven, sans oven mitts, and for a brief moment, Dean’s brain operates on a panic reflex and snatches the tray from his hands. The result is their hours of baking scattered all over the floor, a dented baking sheet, and second-degree burns on the hunter’s hands. He’s huffing and cursing and he fully expects Cas to scold him and point out the obvious fact that he’s an angel and such temperatures have no effect on him. But instead, he watched Castiel pulled his hands from the faucet (having immediately shoved them under there after he burned himself) and tenderly brushes his finger tips over the wounds. Dean feels the familiar sensation of healing flesh, something he hasn’t felt in a bit and he’s silent as Cas brings the newly healed skin to his lips and presses a kiss to his palms. The irritability baking had brought them is gone. Dean lets Cas wave the kitchen clean and they decide to just go out and buy Christmas cookies instead. Later that evening, Cas’ lips taste like ginger and Dean finds that the reality is way better than the fantasy.

They ultimately end up hosting the party that started their shift into the Christmas spirit a few days before the actual holiday. After all, they know most of their friends prefer flying over driving and it might be a lot to ask them to come out on the actual holiday. But their concerns of traffic and irritated guests soon fly out the window in the face of so many familiar… well, faces. Hugs never stop coming and despite everyone’s claim that gifts would not be necessary, everyone knows that’s bullshit and a pile beneath their ridiculous tree grows with every teasing comment and expression of happy holidays.

Speaking of the tree, Castiel is quite pleased with his holiday crafting and the other members of the bunker share that sentiment. Since the angel discovered the photo-insert ornaments, he had taken it upon himself to spend random periods during the month finding photographs of each important person in their lives that he could and putting them into such items. Everyone takes joy in searching for their own picture. Claire comments that he picked a terrible one of her, but Cas hears her quietly asking Dean if she could take it home with her, as it features her and Kaia pressed close in a hug. Charlie adores her’s and insists that she wants to make the same craft, but only if they do it together. Everyone quietly appreciates the ones made for those that aren’t present to appreciate them. Jack ensures that Mary’s ornament has prime placement. Eileen hugs Sam when she catches him looking at Kevin’s for a while. Dean makes a point to kiss Castiel privately after finding Bobby’s nestled among some tinsel. Everyone agrees that their the best decorations in the place.

Hunters and those that know them have never been known to operate on a normal schedule, so it is nearly three in the morning before the bunker clears out. Some have elected to drive home if the trip was relatively easy. Others have settled into the many spare rooms that the bunker holds. Once all the gifts have been opened, the eggnog’s been drunk, and everyone has eaten their weight in treats, only Dean and Cas remain in the quiet bunker. They sit together in the library, positioned on one of the many extended seats they’d brought out to fit their guests. The lights of the enormous tree are still on at Dean’s request and Castiel can’t help staring at the way the different colors still look so beautiful on him. He glances up at the other decorations strewn about. The bows, the poinsettias (Garth had brought something like ten of them), the holly, the- He spots a familiar item of decor. He’d seen Sam and Eileen equally position themselves under it in wait of their partner, always stopping them with the insistence that a kiss must be administered before they continue on their way about the bunker. Lazily, he nudges Dean and points to the archways between the crow’s nest and the hall that leads to the bedrooms.

“Is standing beneath that a requirement for kissing?”

Dean follows his finger and huff out a laugh. Even though they hadn’t been dating long, they’d been together for so many years that he knows the angel is teasing. He turns to meet his eyes, smiling at the way the lights almost change them from blue to a rainbow of color.

“What, you want to kiss under the mistletoe? Now?”

For a moment, it seems as if he’s considering the offer. But instead, he shakes his head and reaches a hand up to cup Dean’s cheek. He knows that he could have kiss Dean under there the same way Eileen and Sam do. But he knows they’re different. Dean is a lot of thing and as much as he would deny it, one of those things is private. Their relationship is simultaneously new and so so ingrained into their life. Affection was always something there, just beneath the surface. And while he had the thing he desired for so long, that doesn’t mean he feels the need to push Dean into a realm of affection that just isn’t fitting of who they are together. Leaning forward, he captures Dean’s lips in a kiss. He tastes like eggnog and candy cane.

Castiel understands all the more that happiness is in the being. And he no longer fears his joy. Because he can’t imagine being happier than holding Dean beneath these lights and knowing that they still have tomorrow and so many days to come. There is no better present than that.

#destielsecretsanta2020 #scoobydean #supernatural #Destiel #saileen #saleen #jack kline #my posts

172 notes · View notes

massivedrickhead · 4 years ago

Note

could you write maybe something about beca and chloe at a farmer's market at their first christmas together as a couple starting up new traditions? like getting hot chocolate, picking ornaments and a tree, stuff like that

Naturally I couldn’t write just normal Christmas fluff, I had to add a bit of angsty hurt/comfort in there. So, trigger warning: alcoholism is mentioned.

Read on AO3

Saturday mornings were Beca’s favourite time of the week for two reasons.

One, she got to sleep through them, catching up on all the sleep she’d lost through the week.

Two, she got to sleep through them with Chloe.

Chloe, the perpetual early bird, the seizer of every moment, had finally relented and given Beca this one lazy morning.

(Beca had tried to get Sunday morning too, but Chloe said she was pushing it.)

So on Saturdays they lay warm and comfortable, wrapped in each others arms, under layers of blankets because they couldn’t keep the heating 24 hours a day, and New York winters were cold.

They’d sleep late, waking up every few hours to exchange lazy kisses, before falling asleep again, eventually waking up to eat a late breakfast (read: lunch).

Except this Saturday was different.

Chloe was tugging the blankets away from Beca, or trying to at least, and telling her to get up and shower or they’d be late.

“Late for what?” Beca mumbled, her grip on the blankets surprisingly strong for 8 am.

“The Christmas market!”

“It is November 28th,” Beca said, incredulously, finally giving up and allowing Chloe to whip the blankets away.

“Exactly! So we need to go buy our decorations if we’re gonna stick to our plan!”

Beca sat up, brows furrowed, hair sticking up at every possible angle.

“I knew that plan would come back to bite me.”

“Come on, up! Up! Up!” Chloe said, each up punctuated by a clap of her hands.

Begrudgingly Beca climbed out of the safety and warmth of bed and made the quick cold dash to the shower. She felt herself relax as the hot water came sputtering out of the shower head and chased away the cold of their bathroom.

Their plan - or Beca and Chloe’s awesome best Christmas ever, as Chloe had dubbed it - had been finalised only a few days before.

It was their first real Christmas living together as a couple that would be spent just the two of them.

Chloe’s mom had video called her and said that as all her kids were grown up now, her and Chloe’s dad would be going on vacation for Christmas from now on.

Chloe had pouted and pleaded but her mom’s mind was made up. She said they had to start making new traditions now that they were getting older, and Chloe should do the same.

Chloe was still miserable when Beca had gotten home from work late that night.

“You know, we could start making our own traditions,” Beca said, trying to coax Chloe out of her bad mood. “That’s the fun part about growing up, right? When you’re a kid you just do what you’ve always done, but when you grow up and you start your new family, you get to try new things. Mix things up a bit. Create new traditions that you get to pass on.”

“I guess,” Chloe mumbled, allowing Beca to put an arm around her and squeeze her into a side hug.

“Come on,” Beca said, squeezing again, “let’s think of some things we can do.”

And so they spent the next hour making their plan.

“The Christmas decorations go up the first weekend in December,” Chloe said, writing the first part of their plan. “So we should buy decorations soon.”

“Okay,” Beca said. “But no lights that make noise or dancing Santas or anything.”

“Agreed,” Chloe said. “How do you feel about flashing lights?” Beca pulled a face. “Me too.”

“Christmas Eve we get take-out,” Beca said, realising this was her only Christmas tradition she wanted to carry over. “Chinese.”

“Sure,” Chloe said. “But you’re skipping ahead. We have a lot of December to fill. Christmas movies every weekend until Christmas Day.”

“Christmas movie,” Beca said. “You get one per weekend.”

“Two,” Chloe said, grinning, knowing she would win any negotiation.

“Fine. One on Saturday, one on Sunday,” Beca said.

“Deal,” Chloe said. “Naturally Christmas music while we decorate.”

“Naturally,” Beca said. “But no Glee cover versions.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Christmas sweaters?”

“Sure.”

“Matching?”

“Absolutely not.”

It carried on like that until they had their December planned out. And Beca wouldn’t admit it, but she was actually kind of excited about their first solo Christmas. They had spent last year with Chloe’s family, and the year before they hadn’t been dating so while Chloe had gone home, Beca had hung around in New York with anyone she could find who was still in town.

She’d had no desire to go back to her home town for Christmas for a long time now.

So she was excited to have Christmas plans that she could look forward to.

That was until Chloe had woken her up at 8 am on a Saturday so she could drag her around a Christmas market in New York.

“Is it gonna be crowded?” Beca asked, gratefully accepting a cup of coffee from Chloe as she left their bedroom, now fully dressed.

“Maybe,” Chloe said. “If we get there early enough it shouldn’t be too bad. Plus it’s not even December yet. I think it’ll get busier the longer we leave it.”

“Maybe next year we should do our Christmas shopping in June,” Beca said.

“I know you’re kidding but I promise you my Aunt Cheryl was fully wrapped by August,” Chloe said. “Anyway, don’t worry about the crowds. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.”

“Okay, take it easy, you’re like an inch taller than me,” Beca said, rolling her eyes.

“If you say so,” Chloe said. “Okay, it opens soon, are you ready to go?”

They left their apartment, made the short but freezing walk to the subway, and about half an hour later they reached their stop.

“Hot chocolate?” Chloe asked, taking holding of Beca’s hand and pulling her towards where the market was set up.

“Good idea,” Beca said, shivering, her breath coming out in white clouds.

Beca looked around while Chloe ordered their drinks. It wasn’t too busy yet, she was glad to see, but she knew it was only likely to stay that way for another few hours. She hoped she’d be back in their apartment by lunch, but Chloe likely had other ideas.

“Here you go,” Chloe said, handing over a cup. “So, where first?”

“Lead the way,” Beca said, gesturing towards the many stalls laid out in front of them.

They spent the next few hours weaving through the crowds as they looked at every stall. Chloe bought them almost matching Christmas sweaters - one for Chloe reading ‘I’m on the nice list’ and one for Beca which said ‘I’m on the naughty list’ - to which Beca had tried to protest.

“Are you telling me you’ve been a good girl this year, Beca? After the noises you made last night?” Chloe asked with a wink, causing Beca to blush furiously and stop complaining.

“I’m not wearing it in public,” Beca muttered.

“Duh, they’re for Christmas Day,” Chloe had replied, pulling her towards another stall that sold Christmas tree ornaments.

Chloe picked up some generic baubles, as well as some that seemed more personal to her. She grabbed a dog, a treble clef, and a teacup.

“Spotted any that speak to you?” Chloe asked.

Beca shrugged, but her eyes were fixed on what looked like a little ornament of a carton of Chinese takeout.

“This one?” Chloe asked.

Beca cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she said, trying to avoid Chloe’s eyes as she picked it up.

“What about the red panda?”

“Oh I didn’t even see him!” Beca said, almost squealing.

“Get the guitar too,” Chloe said, laughing at Beca’s reaction. “Then we have three each.”

“Okay,” Beca said. “I’ll get these, you bought the sweaters. Do you wanna get a star?”

“My Mom is gonna send our old one with some other bits, if that’s okay?”

“Fine with me,” Beca said before she paid and they carried on walking, Chloe’s hand never leaving hers the entire time.

Chloe bought them some lunch once they reached what seemed to be the end of the first half of the market. They still had to walk down the other side so Beca was predicting they’d be here another hour at least.

“Doing okay?” Chloe asked, knowing how much Beca hated crowds.

Beca nodded, loosening the scarf around her neck as they sat at one of the picnic tables set out by the food stalls.”How much longer?”

“We can stop whenever you want, Becs, you know that right?” Chloe asked, looking at her with concern filled eyes.

“I know,” Beca said, smiling, waiting for her Mac and Cheese to cool. “I was just wondering.”

Chloe pulled up the list on her phone and started ticking things off.

“It looks like we’ve got everything we came for. We can head back now if you want?”

“You wanna see the rest though, right?” Beca asked.

“Well, yeah, but I can come back another time.” Chloe said.

Beca shook her head. “I’m good. We can see the rest. Just promise I won’t have to move out of bed until at least noon tomorrow.”

“And that’s different from how you normally spend your Sunday?”

“Sorry, I should have clarified, you’ll need to stay in bed with me.”

“I guess I can agree to that,” Chloe said.

It was a week later and Chloe was dragging their newly purchased tree into their living room, close to the window so it could be seen from outside.

She was wearing a Santa hat, had tinsel wrapped around her neck like a scarf, and was singing along to their Christmas playlist.

Beca was sitting on the arm of the sofa, getting seemingly more and more frustrated as she tried to untangle the lights.

“These are brand-new lights,” Beca muttered. “How are they already tangled?”

“Give them here,” Chloe said. “You just don’t have the magic touch.”

“That’s not what you said last night.”

“Very funny,” Chloe said, holding out her hands for the lights.

Beca handed them over but before she could say anything else, she was cut off by her phone buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out and sighed, lowering the volume on the music.

“It’s my Mom,” she said, pressing the green button and moving out of the living room and towards the bedroom. “Hey mom.”

Chloe frowned and bit her lip, wondering if she should continue.

This was something they should be doing together, but she also knew Beca usually ended up in a crappy mood after she spoke to her Mom.

Their relationship had been strained for as long as Chloe had known Beca, but she never really found out much about it. Beca didn’t speak about her much, and always clammed up whenever Chloe would ask, even now.

Chloe focused on detangling the lights, but decided she wouldn’t do any of the actual decorating until Beca came back.

It was almost an hour later when Beca came out of their bedroom and dropped onto the sofa beside Chloe.

“You okay?” Chloe asked, looking up from her phone.

Beca gave a non-committal grunt and turned to look at the tree. “You didn’t make much progress. Couldn’t untangle the lights?”

“Please, I did that in like 5 minutes. I wanted to wait for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Beca said, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean to take that long but…” Beca shook her head as she trailed off. “It doesn’t matter.�� She pulled out her phone and restarted their playlist which had ended while Beca had been talking to her Mom. “Ready to carry on?”

Chloe smiled and nodded, and the two returned to their tree.

When it was decorated with a combination of the new stuff they had bought together, and the old stuff Chloe’s Mom had sent they both stood for a minute, smiling at their handiwork. Chloe’s arms came to wrap around Beca’s waist, her chin resting on Beca’s shoulder.

“I love it,” Chloe said, giving Beca a squeeze and kissing the side of her neck.

“Me too,” Beca said.

The soft white lights wrapped around the tree glowed with warmth against the now dark sky, the streetlights below barely reaching the window of their apartment.

It filled Beca with a feeling of cosiness and contentment that she didn’t usually associate with this time of year. Or any time of year for that matter.

“You know, if you wanted to talk about stuff with your Mom you can?” Chloe said, cautiously, feeling Beca tense beneath her arms.

“I’m good,” Beca said. “What movie are we watching?”

“Elf,” Chloe said, squeezing Beca even tighter.

Two weeks later, Chloe woke up in the middle of the night freezing cold and instinctively reached out for Beca. When her hand met cold sheets instead of Beca’s warm body, she opened her eyes, frowning.

It was then she realised she could hear Beca’s voice coming from the next room. She checked her phone and saw it was almost 2 am.

Frowning, she stepped out of bed and into the living room, pulling on her robe as she went.

“Mom, I can’t have this conversation with you again,” Beca said, pinching the bridge of her nose as she paced the living room. “I’m not in Barden anymore, Mom, I can’t just come over. We’ve been through this, I’m in New York.”

Chloe watched as Beca traced one of the ornaments on their now dark tree with her finger.

“Look, I’m gonna go, okay? It’s late. Yeah. Yeah I know.”

Chloe heard Beca suck in a breath the way she always did when she was trying not to cry.

“I love you too,” Beca said, her voice breaking. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I’m gonna call Grandma tomorrow, okay? She can check on you.”

When she ended the call she jumped as she felt Chloe’s arms wrap around her, but she soon relaxed into her. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Chloe said. She tugged Beca’s hand and pulled her towards the window. “Look, it’s snowing.”

They sat on the floor, the Chloe’s back against the wall, Beca’s back against Chloe’s front, and they looked looked out the window, watching the snow drift down, turning yellow as it fell under the light of the streetlights.

They were quiet for a while until Beca finally spoke.

“She’s drinking again,” Beca said, tapping her phone against her leg. “She’s been calling more and more. Wanting me to go over. She… She’s always had trouble with her short term memory, and it only gets worse when she drinks. She thinks I’m still in Georgia.”

“I’m sorry Becs,” Chloe said. “It must be hard being away from her at times like this.”

Beca sniffed and rested a hand on Chloe’s leg, her thumb brushing against the soft fabric of her pyjamas. “Does it make me a shitty person if I say I’m glad I’m not in Georgia right now?”

“No,” Chloe said. “Of course not.”

“I don’t… I don’t like seeing her like this. It just… It reminds me of being a kid, a while after after they got divorced but before my Mom lost custody. She drank a lot then. Sometimes it was kinda fun. She’d let me skip school and we’d go on these adventures together or we’d stay up late eating pizza and playing video games. And then… It was like flipping a switch. She’d just… change. She used to scare me.”

Chloe’s grip tightened around Beca’s waist, and she pressed her lips into the back of her head.

“She knows I’ll only visit when she’s sober. And maybe that makes me selfish. I know I should be there when she needs me. She’s my Mom. I love her,” Beca said, cutting herself off as her voice broke again.

“I know,” Chloe said, softly, pulling her closer. “You’re allowed to put yourself first. You shouldn’t go back to an environment that’s bad for you. And you’re the least selfish person I know. I love you, so so much.”

“I love you too,” Beca said, wiping her eyes as they continued to watch the snow which had only gotten heavier. “It wasn’t all bad,” Beca said, after a while. “Before she started really drinking, we had some good times together, just the two of us. For years. Christmas Eve was always my favourite day of the year.”

“Chinese takeout?”

“Yeah,” Beca said with a small laugh. “She’d order my favourite and we’d have like a slumber party in the living room, watching movies and drinking hot chocolate. She said if I could stay awake until midnight, I’d be allowed to open one present. I never made it,” Beca said, smiling at the memory. “Even when things were really bad, when her drinking was at its worst, that was the one day that would always be good. Christmas wasn’t really the same when I had to move in with my Dad and Sheila. He tried but I guess I was just too angry and closed off by then.” Beca turned to face Chloe now. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me a proper Christmas. For giving me new traditions and letting me reconnect with old ones. For being you.” She leaned forward to kiss her, and Chloe knelt up to meet her halfway.

“Chlo’ if I’m out of scotch tape can I use masking tape?” Beca called from the bedroom, two days before Christmas.

“No,” Chloe called back from the living room. Beca’s last present for Chloe had finally arrived, so she had spent the last few hours locked in their bedroom wrapping presents.

“I have more clear tape,” Chloe said, rummaging in a kitchen drawer until she found some.

“Don’t come in!” Beca said, in a panicked voice. She opened the door and quickly closed it behind her.

“Here,” Chloe said. “Are you gonna be much longer? I’m bored.”

“Almost done,” Beca said, returning to their bedroom and shutting the door.

“Here you go,” Chloe said, handing Beca her container of take-out Chinese and a pair of chopsticks.

“Thank you,” Beca said, grinning as she dug in. Chloe set two mugs of hot chocolate down on the coffee table, and pressed play on Netflix.

“Thank you for tolerating all my movies this month,” Chloe said, smiling as the opening music for Home Alone played.

“This one gets a free pass. It’s a classic.”

“I agree.”

“So,” Beca said, swallowing a mouthful of orange chicken. “If I stay up until midnight do I get to open a present early?”

“Sure,” Chloe said, grinning. “But you’ve been yawning since 6:30, I don’t think you’re gonna make it.”

To her credit, Beca lasted until 10:30 pm, falling asleep with 20 minutes to go in Home Alone 2.

When Chloe switched the movie off, the only light in the room was coming from the tree and the string of fairy lights around their window. She thought that Beca looked beautiful in the soft glow of the lights, her face relaxed and free of the stress she had been carrying around the last few weeks.

Still, she was a little disappointed she hadn’t made it until midnight, there was one gift she had wanted to give her tonight.

The next morning, Chloe tried to coax Beca out of bed at 7 am, with promises of coffee and pancakes for breakfast, but Beca would not budge.

“But it’s Christmas morning,” Chloe pouted.

“It’ll still be Christmas morning in an hour,” Beca mumbled, tugging Chloe back to bed, and curling around her to stop her moving again. “You don’t need to be up so early, you’re not 6.”

“And you don’t need to sleep all morning, you’re not 15.”

“Touche,” Beca mumbled. “Merry Christmas by the way.”

“Merry Christmas,” Chloe said, grinning.

After another 40 minutes of dosing in bed, Beca finally let Chloe drag her up.

They ate breakfast in their Christmas pyjamas, and then, at Chloe’s request, they got dressed in their almost-matching sweaters and took a selfie in front of their tree.

As they exchanged gifts, they both got increasingly more nervous. Something neither of them realised as they were too preoccupied with their own nerves to be focused on the other person.

“I, um, actually have one more for you,” Beca said, standing. “Two seconds.” She moved into the bedroom.

“Yeah, I do too,” Chloe said, reaching towards the back of the tree where the final present was hidden.

After a few minutes of silence, Beca spoke up from the bedroom.

“Chlo’, can you come in here for a minute?”

Chloe suddenly got a weird feeling in her stomach, and the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile.

“Actually Beca, I kinda need you in here,” Chloe said.

There was a small silence.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“It can’t wait?”

“No.”

Another small silence.

“Meet halfway?” Beca asked.

“Okay,” Chloe said. She stood from where she was in the living room and moved so she was in front of the window.

Beca left the bedroom, something held behind her back, and she walked until she was standing in front of Chloe.

Without a word, they both dropped to one knee.

“Chloe Beale.”

“Rebeca Mitchell.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Will you marry me?”

“Duh.”

They both laughed and kissed until they had to stop, happy tears streaming down both of their faces.

“I know we haven’t been officially together that long,” Beca said, wiping her eyes as she slid the ring onto Chloe’s finger. “But you’re my soulmate. I don’t ever want to be with anybody else.”

“I love you so much, Beca. I feel like I waited my whole life for you,” Chloe said, sliding the ring onto Beca’s finger. “I want spend the rest of it with you.”

“Best Christmas ever,” Beca said, still laughing and crying.

“Almost as good as the year we got a Wii,” Chloe said, earning a smack on the arm from Beca.

“I love you.”

“Love you more.”

85 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years ago

Note

I just took that Bakugou introspection as Horikoshi's way of telling the audience that yes Bakugou can keep up with OP Deku because there has been so much muttering across the fanbase that Bakugou won't be able to. I don't see the melodrama of Bakugou only seeing his strength as a means to keep up with Deku or that his pride is problematic. I think him having an idea for his hero names means he knows what his strength is for. He's always been strong as a person (when Deku was not) (pt1)

Losing his quirk doesn't need to be the gateway to force him to develop the kindness and consideration he's already been showing, nor would it be karmatic balance between him and Deku- especially when any scenario that takes his quirk benches him from the story or cheapens the stakes by him getting it back relatively fast. Deku's 15 years of quirklessness can't be balanced. Additionally, Bakugou only lost in the story when he was too close minded to learn, once open minded he started to (pt2)

grow. It doesn't send out a good message, if after all that growth he still gets punished. His declaration of spirit to not lose, be it to Shigaraki or Deku is not a bad thing, he is the underdog with an indominable will and he is declaring his spirit as the symbol of victory. Bakugou may lose his quirk, I don't know, but your reasons I disagree with because we interpret those panels differently. They give the audience a point of reference to guage Bakugou's ability.

you make some excellent points, anon! and you see, it’s strange, because up until this chapter and his monologue, I was in full agreement with most of what you’re saying -- that he’s already figured out all of that hero biz, that he’s already in the process of sorting his shit out on his own, and that Horikoshi is simply waiting for the right moment to finally show it.

but after reading his internal dialogue in this chapter, I’m just not so sure anymore.

in the past I’ve done a lot of guesswork on Kacchan’s thought processes based on his subtle little actions and microexpressions, and on what we’ve already been told about his character thus far. I call it “guesswork”, though, because it very much is that, because we so rarely get an actual glimpse into his head to see what he is really thinking. so when Horikoshi actually does give us one of those rare glimpses, I’m inclined to pay very close attention, and prepared to make any necessary adjustments to my current understanding of his character if need be. he is very, very complicated, and despite my spending an absurd percentage of my free time analyzing him up and down and front to back, that absolutely doesn’t mean that any of those analyses are actually right, lols. I’m constantly updating my internal databank of Kacchan knowledge both from interactions with the rest of the fandom, and -- when Horikoshi actually deigns to give us some new information -- from the canon itself.

anyway! so when I read this chapter and saw Kacchan yet again comparing his progress to Deku’s in his head, and thinking -- even now, even in the moments right before an intense battle!! -- only about his rivalry and about keeping up, that immediately set me to updating my mental bakuwiki in regards to his current character growth status. so he definitely has his hero name picked out already, we know that much. and so presumably has thus already figured out what kind of hero he wants to be. right? right.

and yet he still apparently has not revealed the new name to anyone. even after three months. like yeah, we get it, you made a promise to tell Jeanist first, etc. fair enough, but still! it’s an interesting bit of hesitation to take note of. and then there’s also the matter of Horikoshi’s interview from back in December (which I’ll link in a comment once this is posted), where he talked a lot about Bakugou and made a point of saying that his character growth wasn’t done yet, and that he still needs to apologize to Deku. which is as good a confirmation as any that such an apology is indeed forthcoming.

so why, then, does it seem like we’re still no closer to that moment, even after Kacchan seemingly had a mysterious epiphany at the end of the internship arc, and even after we subsequently went through a three month time jump? Kacchan isn’t one to be slow about it when he decides to make progress. his growth in all other aspects has come by leaps and bounds. and yet when it comes to his relationship with Deku -- his friendship with Deku, except that he still can’t bring himself to acknowledge that’s what it is, and insists on thinking of it as only a rivalry -- it seems like he reached a certain point, and then just... stalled. like he’s not willing to go any further past this. and there are many reasons for why that may be the case. but at the root of all of them is pride.

and I’m not saying he needs to give up that pride, because that’s a huge and very important part of who he is. you said his declaration of spirit not to lose isn’t a bad thing, and I agree. but that doesn’t always make it a good thing either, and I don’t want to get so swept up in my love of the character that I start refusing to acknowledge the downsides of that trademark pride as well. pride, like anything else, is nuanced. it can be both good and bad. it’s good when it motivates you and pushes you to do your best and to achieve your goals. but it’s bad when it makes you inflexible, and when it prevents you from taking actions which would benefit you and others, just because doing so would mean humbling yourself in a way that is scary and which feels like it runs counter to your ultimate goals. because you want to be someone who always wins. and so any time you do experience a loss, you go through an entire mini-crisis, because it feels like your very purpose in life is being threatened.

I don’t know if “problematic” is the word I would use for this aspect of him. I feel like that word is fairly overused, especially in fandom, and now has certain connotations of “this is objectively bad behavior which should be called out and shunned.” and I don’t think that’s the case at all when it comes to Kacchan’s pride. he’s already learned how to put it aside in order to work with others and save others. and that’s great! he already is a great hero by this point, imo. if Horikoshi decided to just end his character arc here and not take it any further, I would actually be just fine with that.

but I think that there is still the potential for more. I think that we are still not done here yet. because this manga consistently surprises and amazes me with the way it goes the extra mile when it comes to character development. Kacchan and Deku didn’t have to reconcile their differences and learn to respect one another after only 120 chapters (I say “only” in a very sincere and not sarcastic sense here, because that really is an insanely short timeframe compared to most other manga). but they did. Endeavor didn’t have to see the error of his ways and decide that he wanted to become a better person, and he definitely didn’t have to be shown apologizing and admitting his wrongdoings and even going so far as to back out of his family’s lives for their sakes and even build them a house so they could move on apart from him. but he did! and that’s insane, you guys. name me another series that goes that hard in trying to redeem a guy whom virtually every single member of this fandom would have once described as ultimately devoid of any redeeming qualities. I can’t think of any.

but BnHA is just like that. it goes hard. it doesn’t back off. nothing about its character arcs is remotely half-assed. and so if a character is showing signs that they are still angling for more growth? that there are still things they need to learn? then I’m inclined to think we are going to roll up our sleeves and get that growth, one way or another.

this story consistently amazes me because whenever I look at a certain aspect of a character’s development and say to myself, “oh hey, that’s pretty awesome, even if it’s still not ideal,” Horikoshi goes and nudges it down another notch towards being ideal. like, the dude just doesn’t settle. and so that’s one of the reasons why I’m convinced this is a very real and even likely possibility. because this kind of development, to me, would be very, very, very close to my ideal. is it strictly necessary? absolutely not. would it fucking blow my mind as a development, however? I kinda think it would, ngl.

-- that is, with the one addendum that since I do love my son very dearly, I wouldn’t want it to actually be permanent. so in order to be truly ideal, such an arc would also have to include a way for him to climb back up again after experiencing that fall. which some might find contrived or “cheap”, as you put it. but that’s a risk I’m very selfishly and biasedly game for all the same, lol. I am more than willing to occasionally suspend my sense of disbelief in the name of character development, and honestly, I don’t actually think it would cheapen the stakes in any way, because just because Kacchan’s main character status gives him cool perks like a one-time get-out-of-losing-your-quirk-for-free card doesn’t mean the same would apply towards anybody else. and for that matter, it wouldn’t detract from whatever soul searching Kacchan does during that period while he fully believes that he will be quirkless for the rest of his life, either. it doesn’t have to be permanent in order to have a permanent impact.

lastly, in regards to it balancing things out between him and Deku, I don’t mean that Kacchan becoming quirkless would (a) be some sort of necessary and deserved punishment for him, or (b) be even remotely equivalent in any kind of way to what Deku experienced while growing up. that is very obviously not the case, and I can’t stand that kind of thinking, that redemption is only about punishment. maybe “karmic” isn’t the word I should have used then; I meant it as a way of signifying something spiritual in the push-pull balance between the two of them, not in the “what goes around comes around you were a jerk and now you’ll finally understand what it feels like” sense of the word. that’s a big yikes, lol. so yeah, just to clarify that part of it!

what I mean by balance is that it would serve as a catalyst to Kacchan finally being able to understand Deku’s side of it. finally being able to see things from the point of view of his rival-friend who’s had the exact opposite arc as him in terms of what he had to do and go through and learn and unlearn to get this far. it would serve as a means of finally bridging that one last gap of understanding between them. it would bring things back into balance because it would bring them back into balance, by giving them the push to finally mend that one last broken part of their former friendship. the part that’s still untouched by both of them, because they’re both afraid of disrupting the current semi-stable truce that they have now in their relationship. even if it’s not perfect. not, if you’ll pardon my use of the word yet again, ideal.

tl;dr I see Bakugou’s introspection as being a lead-in to something potentially game-changing both because I want it to be, and because, as strange as it may seem, the manga has conditioned me to think this way now. to have expectations. to anticipate more depth, more growth. so it may be the case that in this instance I’ve taken those expectations too far and I need to temper them back down and swing them in a less angsty, more traditionally shounen direction. and like I said, if that does wind up being the case, I won’t be upset.

but maybe, just maybe though, this manga will in fact go there once again. if for no other reason than that it can. “Horikoshi really went and did that” is a sentence I’ve gotten very used to typing since I started reading this manga. and so, well, let’s just wait and see.

#bnha 275 #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bnha meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #long post #because tumblr is being a giant @&$^)! and I'm not sure that the 'read more' function is working in the way it's supposed to be working #so if not I apologize!#my bad #quirkless!bakugou #bakugou meta

60 notes · View notes

syndianites · 4 years ago

Text

The After; The Athar: Chapter Four

Chapter 4/?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 [Here] - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. Wag escorts Martha to Jordan’s house and decides to have a day out with Sonja.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: It’s Wednesday, totallyyyyyy. Just a little late haha, but here it is! Chapters 1-4 already written out. That means I actually need to finish chapter 5 and continue onward. I mentioned this before, but I’d been sitting on this since September of last year, and had chapter 4 done in... December? Of last year.

——————————————————————————————

“So, did you actually come to talk, or did you need something from me?” Jordan was looking towards the town now, legs crossed. With his arms splayed across the back of the couch, chin up, he looked like the perfect picture of nonchalance.

Wag knew that that was far from correct.

However, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, drawing Jordan’s eye. “Well, I did actually come to see if you knew where Martha was, and if not Martha, Spark.”

Jordan gave him a thoughtful frown.

“Not that I didn’t want to talk to you,” Wag added in, “It’s just that I really need to see Martha. Rip the bandage off as soon as possible. I’m, uh. Breaking up with her.”

Jordan’s face crumpled into a harsh discomfort, like someone had just doused his socks in water and told him all his other socks were missing.

“Ah. That’s. Unfortunate?” He winces. “I’m sorry about your loss. Eventual loss. Yeah.”

Wag shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “She’s not dying, Jordan. I just realised that we- well, it didn’t matter what I realised. We’re better as just friends, if she’s okay with that.”

Jordan nodded, lips pinched together. “I’m afraid I don’t recall where she was going today. Spark, however, should be at Town Hall handling some paperwork. She might be with him, might not. I’d ask him.”

Getting up with a stretch, Wag replied, “Thanks. The faster I do this the better.”

Jordan stood as well, following Wag to the front door. They stood there. Wag shuffled his feet. “I, uh. I’m not sure where the Town Hall is. Could you show me?”

He had a fair idea, but not a sure one. The Town Hall was a building Wag often forgot about. But not because he didn't care to commit it to memory.

To start, it looked like all the other buildings around it. Acacia based, a foundation of sandstone that peaked up from below the ground, and an easy, sloped thatch roof. It gave the buildings a log cabin feel, while still fitting in with the landscape. The edges were built with acacia logs to bring in a nice neutral gray which held it all together.

Now, if it just looked like every other building that’d be fine. But it also had no marker to identify it as Town Hall. Or, rather, the marker it had was easily mistaken for something else- an open book with a quill. For example, it could be the symbol for a courthouse, or the symbol for a law firm. Or the Records Hall.

Wag didn’t know where the Records Hall was either.

Add in the fact that no one really went in there since the majority of citizens specialized in fishing and you have a place that is forgettable at best.

That being said, Wag would rather have some company on his death march to breaking up with Martha. Using his unsureness of where, exactly, the Town Hall was would be a good excuse to keep talking to Jordan. At the least, it would help with his nerves.

Jordan looked off to the side. “Isn’t it right next to-” He cut off. Thought for a second. “Yeah, it’d be better to just show you.”

Wag smiled. He swept his hand towards the path and gave Jordan a shallow bow. “After you, my dear.”

Shaking his head, Jordan began to lead the way, Wag trailing along just behind his shoulder.

They descended the hill in comfortable silence. Jordan was clearly thinking about something, looking for a good moment to bring it up. Wag welcomed the change from thinking about his future.

He side-eyed him. “Got something on your mind, my good fellow? Want to talk more about how the world has it out for us?”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “No, I think that’s enough of that depressing topic for now.” A beat of silence. “I was just thinking-”

“You’ve got to be careful with that.”

“-Thinking about Tom.”

Wag gasped. “Thinking about another man while we take such a romantic stroll together? How dare you.”

“Yes, walking over to the Town Hall so you can talk to the man who looks like an older version of me and has a superiority complex is so romantic” Jordan wrinkled his nose. It’s not like he’d know much about romantic. Between Jordan and anyone else that was ever interested in him, the other had done more work. Jordan’s idea of romance was probably ‘let’s build some complex contraption together’.

“We could always detour,” Wag suggested, lightly elbowing Jordan’s arm. “Take it across the beach, pick up shells that we’d think the other would like, hold hands and go barefoot to walk in the waves. Call it a date.”

“I beach you it’d be a good time, but I’ll have to wave the idea off. I do have things I want to get done today.” Jordan turned to him with a glimmer in his eyes and a bashful, yet impish smile.

“Wow.” Wag blinked a few times. “That was forced and you know it. ‘I beach you’?” He fake gagged. “So cheesy.”

Jordan turned away with a huff.

Wait.

“Oh, my gosh, wave was also a pun. That was a double pun. I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.”

“Thank you, I’ll be taking cash donations for my genius.”

“I’ll be taking cash compensation for having to hear that with my own two ears.”

Jordan laughed, a lovely, quiet sound. It was breathy, and just off of squeaky, but it made Wag’s ears burn.

Weird.

“I’m afraid,” Jordan followed up, “That we have a no refund policy. Once heard you can’t get your investment back. It was on page 8 of the contract you signed upon meeting me: ‘You accept any and all amazing, lovely puns that come out of Jordan’s mouth.’”

“Wow. 8 pages? I don’t remember 8 pages. What I remember was, ‘Hello, I am most likely going to be inside, at home, for most of our friendship. And this is to say I’m not avoiding you, I’m preparing the most intricate, strong things imaginable for when shit inevitably goes to hell.’ That’s not even a page, it was a sheet of paper torn in half.” Was that overly accurate about Jordan? No. But the dig was worth it.

Jordan shook his head, indignant, “I don’t stay inside that much! How dare you assume I’d be able to stay cooped up inside for so long. Clearly, if you wanted to be precise, I would have written ‘I’ll most likely be working on cool and awesome things that make me super prepared to help My Lady in any way possible.’ Inside versus outside means nothing in that regard.”

“Ah, my bad. Let me rephrase that, ‘I am so loyal to Ianite and her existence that I will breathe balance, eat balance, and become balance. People will look at me and think ‘Wow, that guy sure is the epitome of balance. Almost enough to rival Ianite herself.’, except I’ll just look cool and be a good champion.”

“Ok, ok, let’s back up here.” Jordan turned to look at Wag. To look up at Wag, more specifically. Shorty. “Going that far makes me sound like Spark, and I am nowhere near as bad as him. Like, c’mon, he was so dedicated to Ianite he married her.”

They were in front of the Town Hall now.

Jordan lowered his voice, like Spark could hear him. “He honestly needs a hobby.”

Wag shook his head, stifling a laugh.

“Well,” Jordan’s voice rose back to a regular volume. “Looks like we’re here.”

“Looks so.”

They stalled for a second.

“I better get going,” Jordan started. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’ll help you with anything.” He side-eyed Wag, a joking look in his eye. “As long as it’s reasonable.”

“That means a lot to me.” Wag smiled. “I promise that my next visit will actually be for you. It’s only fair, especially since you’re a dear friend of mine.”

With a huff and a returned smile, Jordan pushed him along. “You don’t have to promise that.”

“I want to. Since it’s you.”

Wag turned and began walking up the steps into the building.

Jordan felt his heart beat just a little faster. He tried to convince himself that that didn’t mean as much to him as his heart said.

It really wasn’t that deep.

---

The Town Hall was one of the first non-residential buildings placed in the town. In the time that they’d all been gone, there had been some remodelling to the valley.

The first, most prominent, in Wag’s opinion, change was the removal of the Dianite statue head thing. If it was still there, Wag would not have built his tower right next to that. No siree.

The rest of the changes were fairly mild: the paths around were fiddled with to give access to the beach and town buildings, the farms were cleaned up, and so on.

Now, the Town Hall was delicately placed between the farms and the Tea Pot. The Tea Pot which was left standing. In all the revisions that were made to the land, someone looked at the Tea Pot, looked at the space it took up, and decided it should remain.

There was a goddamn Tea Pot next to Town Hall.

And Wag still struggled to remember where the Town Hall was.

Needless to say, Wag head inside, giving a wave to the secretary. While there was no official “Mayor” of the town, there was a general administrative body made up of some of the townsfolk. It was a democratic setup, which leaned towards a more free-market, socialist style of living.

Quite the turn around from Ruxomar.

Spark, it seemed, had either learned from the eventual disaster that was Ruxomar- not that he was there to see its final collapse- or wanted a change of pace, seeing as he founded Dagrun under a monarchy. To be fair, there weren’t many people around to start a kingdom.

After Wag exchanged conversation with the secretary and was waved towards the back, he found Spark. His office was small with a full window alongside one wall and a desk with neatly organized papers set up in multiple stacks. He sat behind the desk, pondering over a sheet laid before him, reading it with careful eyes.

He looked up at Wag’s entrance, a polite smile forming on his face. “What brings my daughter’s favorite wizard around today?” Spark stood, moving around the desk to offer a handshake in greeting.

“Oh, only Martha’s? Not yours?” He took the hand, trying to give a firm shake despite his nerves. “I came here to see if you knew of Martha’s whereabouts. I have something I need to talk to her about.”

Spark took a step back. “Ah, she just stepped out to grab some records from the Record Hall. She’ll be a few minutes at least.” He moved back to his desk, motioning for Wag to sit in one of the guest chairs.

Wag sank into it quickly.

If Spark could see he was nervous, he said nothing. But Wag was sure it radiated off of him, from the way his fingers drummed against his legs, to how he would look at the door every so often, to how he kept shifting in his chair. He’d thought the walk and quiet pondering over the town’s brief history would help.

It didn’t.

Still, they sat in silence. Outward silence. His thoughts fought to be heard, to break out from the delicate prison he’d pushed them into when he steeled himself to potentially see Martha here, next to Spark.

“Can I ask you something?” Wag blurted out. Spark looked up. “If you’re- if you’re not busy, that is.”

He set aside his pen- something he’d carried from Ruxomar- and gave him an inviting wave.

“What’s the difference between loving someone and being devoted to them?”

Wag bit his lip as Spark mulled over an answer.

“That depends,” he said, after a moment. “What kind of love and what kind of devotion?”

Wag could see in his eyes that Spark knew what he meant, but was giving him space to elaborate on his issue.

He has to know, right? What I’m about to do.

“Devotion to,” Wag took a breath, “To your goddess versus the love you have for her.”

Spark stretched and sat back in his seat, relaxed. “It’s based in different things. Devotion is based on a shared belief, a shared idea. I followed,” Spark swallowed hard, “My goddess because I, too, believed in the balance she stood for, and the peace it upheld.”

He swiveled the chair half-way around to gaze out the window. “I loved her because of who she was. Her laugh, her smile, her energy and joy and spirit and how she’d get that sparkle in her eye when she’d see me, a mix between something soft and something loving and-”

He clears his throat, clearly holding back emotion. “I loved her because she was everything right in the world. In my world.”

Wag did not mean to open up something this heavy for Spark. But he wasn’t done with his questions.

“Did being in a relationship affect how you followed her?” He shoved his hands underneath his thighs to stop from fidgeting.

“Yes. And no.” Taking a moment to compose himself, Spark swept his eyes across the landscape, the solid silhouette of Jerry’s Tree in the background. “After getting together, I was devoted to her in the sense of any typical boyfriend; I doted on her, did romantic things with her, the whole shebang. In terms of being her follower and champion, I knew when to be professional and to act upon our shared belief system. It took practice to not let one bleed into the other, but I made it work.”

Though Spark wasn’t looking, Wag nodded.

“How.” He cleared his throat. “What would be the best way to... separate that? To pull apart your devotion and your relationship so they don’t affect each other?”

Spark turned back to him, his figure highlighted by the glow from outdoors, creating a regal picture of a tired, broken old man. “Separate them? You don’t. You can’t. It’s impossibly hard to have the maturity to stop your feelings from changing how one part of your relationship goes.”

“To be a lover means to be ready to defend your partner at all costs, just as you would a champion. To be a champion means to love your goddess to the ends of the world, just as you would a lover. Devotion and love are centered from different places, but once your feelings in them cross they cannot be unlinked.”

“But they’re not the same.” Now Spark was starting to get confusing and muddled to Wag. “

You just said so! Loving someone can come in different forms. You can love your goddess and not be in love with her.”

“But you still love her, regardless of which side you love through. Champion, partner, it's all love. If you let them slide together, they die together. What’s the difference? What creates that gap?” Spark had a glint in his eyes, now, something removed from the quiet, tender sadness from before.

“There’s a big difference!” Wag freed his hands to gesture wildly. “To love your partner is to cherish every moment with them, to be apart and still, somewhere in the back of your mind, be thinking of them. You see sweets, or goodies, or just nice things and think about if they’d like them, or you see the soft purple of lilac and think of their hair, or wander past a library and think of spells and sitting up late at night pouring through books. Or-”

He threw his arms up. “Loving your goddess is different, I think. I’ve never followed one before this. I followed a god without any care for that god. I didn’t even really follow him, we followed something adjacent to him.”

“And,” Wag breathed, “loving your goddess is like seeing the value in what they preach. Like.” He was frustrated now. Didn’t he just tell him that love and devotion came from different things? If that was the case, how did being a champion in a relationship with your goddess stop that from being different things? “Like how you devote yourself to an idea!”

Spark raised an eyebrow. “So? You devoted yourself to the idea of being in a relationship with her, you crossed that divide and filled it in.”

“But I didn’t! I just built a bridge over it and tried to figure out which side I was on.”

“Which side are you on?”

“I don’t know!” Wag was starting to breathe heavily. It was like every moment he had built up his confidence to cut it off with Martha was being uprooted like grass in a plowed field. “I just don’t want to be in the middle anymore.”

Spark watched him silently. He wasn’t going to give Wag a break this time.

“It’s terrible.” Wag continued, quieter. “Being stuck between the desire to stick by her side and protect her and the desire to be right beside her and love her, and hold her, and be the one person who can always make her laugh.”

He looked away, towards a wall with an older oil painting. “But that’s the thing. I don’t have to choose. We chose on our own without knowing. We drifted away, lost to our own problems and grief. The bridge back to her side is broken and torn and I don’t think I have the strength left in me to repair it.”

“Don’t have the strength, or are scared to?”

“Both! Neither? Fuck, I just.” Wag shook his head, trying to rattle his thoughts enough to make sense. “I can’t promise that if I do fix things they won't break again, weather down and fall away under my negligence. And I’m afraid of what would happen if I let things get that bad again.”

“Fear is natural.” Spark eyed him up and down. “But you can’t let it get in the way of your life.”

“It’s not. I swear it isn’t. But we feel fear for a reason and that’s to stop us from making poor decisions.”

“But sometimes fear is a knee-jerk reaction, what you feel when you’re uncertain or when things change around you and you’re not ready for it.”

“I’m not,” Wag whispered. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder. “I’m not ready for change. And that’s ok. It’d be better to take a step back and see what I need to do to be ready and to adapt, rather than to try and go arm deep into whatever mess comes my way because I’m afraid of losing everything I love.”

“Even if that means losing your relationship with Martha?”

“I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.” And that was the truth. For all he cared about her romantically, he also cared about her as a friend. As someone who’d been through hell and back with her. You don’t just leave people like that behind.

Spark nodded. “Then you know what you need to do.”

Now that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “Wait.” Did I just get lead on? “Was that whole conversation just a way to make me figure my shit out?”

“I wouldn’t say it like that,” Spark was smoothing out the papers on his desk. “But yes, I did pull the conversation in a way that made you think about your decision. I wouldn’t contradict my own words without purpose.”

“I doubt anyone does.” Wag rolled his eyes. “So you approve? Of me choosing to break up with Martha?”

Spark looked up at Wag, already having grabbed his pen. There was a beat of silence. Wag started to sweat.

After all of that, surely he does?

Silence.

Right?

He felt like a kid that got sent to the principal’s office. Getting stared down by the head honcho that doesn’t want to see you in front of them but also doesn’t want to let you off easy.

Still, he was scrutinized.

Holy shit man.

Finally- finally!- Spark looked back down.

“I’m impartial,” he said at last. “To be honest, it’s not my issue. While I do want the best for my daughter, she is a grown woman. You are a grown man. My approval shouldn’t matter here.”

Wag relaxed. He had a point.

Spark shook his head, signing off on a document and moving it aside. “I had the same doubts about my relationships when I was your age. That was before-” he coughed. “-you know, and when I still fancied this lovely lady from my hometown. We’d been going strong for a while, but I was dedicated to my faith and she was not interested in faith at all.”

He tsked. “We wouldn’t have worked out at all, no matter how much I cared for her. Still kept in touch until,” Spark gave a pointed look around, “This happened.”

“Okay, grandpa.” Ah, yes, he definitely wanted to hear about Spark’s love life.

A thought struck him.

“Now wait a second, when you were ‘my age’?” Wag glanced over Spark. “I’m older than you.”

Spark chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m sure we can both see I’m older than you.” He tilted his head to the side. “See that gray? That’s age and stress. Enjoy your youth while you have it.

“I’m a wizard.”

A narrowing of the eyes.

“I’ve been a wizard.”

He sat back in his chair.

“I’ve been a wizard for a long time.”

Spark turned his gaze back to his documents. “You must be pulling my leg.”

“No, sir, I am not.” Wag was fidgeting again, this time bored. “I think I’m a little over a century old? Maybe more.”

“I can understand you being a wizard, but there’s no way minor magic- non-divine magic- could extend your life.”

“I killed a god to become a wizard.”

Wag stared Spark down with a straight deadpan. Spark’s mouth worked at a response.

He’d never get one.

“So I didn’t find any proof of purchase document for Lichens- ah, hello Wag.” Martha stopped dead in the doorway, face stuck between surprised, pleasant, and a flicker of discomfort. “To what do we owe the pleasure of a visit?”

Well. It seemed Martha found him.

Now that they were both staring at him, Wag felt far too exposed. He tugged at his hood. It was already as low as it could go on his head. That didn’t make him feel any better.

So he opted for a smile instead. “I needed to talk to you about something Martha.”

She exchanged a glance with Spark, who had a thoughtful look in his eyes. It was the kind of look that said they’d talked about him before. And, based on the look he gave Wag in turn, it was not a very positive kind of talking.

Oh dear fuck.

Martha gave him a shy smile. “Can it wait? I need to wrap this up real fast. Then, after that, I should be free for a bit.”

It couldn’t. If it did, it would never happen. Wag knew it wouldn’t. From the way his heart stuttered to the way his hands shook, he knew that if he gave himself the time to back out he’d take it. And as much as he didn’t want to make an ass out of himself by saying no, wouldn’t trapping them both in this be worse? Keeping the two of them together to pretend that things were going well?

No, it couldn’t wait.

The words, however, stuck in his throat. He shook his head. Took a breath. “I’m sorry, it really can’t.”

Martha took it in stride. “Alright. This must be important to you, let me set this down and I’ll be right out.” She motioned him to wait outside the door.

Wag took the opportunity. Once safely in the hallway, alone, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

Calm down.

It wasn’t like he was signing his life away. Or like he was telling Martha he killed her dad. They were just breaking up.

But it felt like it was more than that. It felt like he was betraying her, like all those promises he made were for nothing. Hadn’t he said he’d follow her to the end of the line? That he’d be her champion? What would become of that if he broke up with her?

Where did devotion and love meet and where did they separate?

Wag wasn’t sure anyone knew. It was a challenge to be in love with a goddess.

The sound of the door swinging open caught his attention. Martha stepped out, smoothing her shirt out. She caught his eye and sent him a smile. He gave a shaky one back.

“Gee, Waggles,” That nickname hit something soft in his chest, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were going to break up with me.”

Fucking shit.

He sat silent as his mind fell down a flight of stairs.

Martha caught on. “You, you are, aren’t you?”

Her eyes were wide, now, and Wag wasn’t sure how to follow that up. This was not going as he’d planned. Except, he hadn’t really planned it so much as made a vague idea about how he was going to.

Get your shit together man, now's the time.

“Yes.” His voice strained and he cleared his throat. “I am.”

Before she could get in a word, he pushed onward. “And it’s not because I don’t love you. I do. I love you so, so much. I’d follow you to the ends of the world, spread your name as your champion until my voice ran out, I would-” He stopped himself. This was supposed to be a break up. “I would do a lot for you.”

He took a deep breath.

“But I’m not what you need.”

His heart was free falling, bouncing between his hard and fast love for Martha and his desire to be loved. Between knowing they weren’t good for each other- not anymore- and wishing that they could be.

“What are you talking about?” Martha’s voice, though she kept her volume level, was thick with emotion. “Of course you are. I love you so much Wag, what would I do without you?”

“I’m not!” He swallowed heavily. “You don’t love me the same. I don’t love you the same. Haven’t you seen it? How we never see each other? How we can’t be around each other without walking on eggshells? How it feels like there’s someone missing that I could never replace?”

Martha had loved Steve so much. And she’d loved Wag. But after everything, he’d realized that they’d grown apart. That for all they loved each other, they didn’t.

Wag took a brave moment to look Martha in the eyes. Her tears were held back by pure willpower and rapid blinking. Her mouth was set in a thin line. For all she was trying to keep her cool it was breaking at the seams.

She was quiet. Wag could practically feel the storm of thought and emotion rolling off of her. A whisper. “You’re right.”

He held his breath.

“You’re right. You can’t replace him. No one can. But you don’t have to. Why can’t I just love you and him both? What’s wrong about that?”

No, no, no. That wasn’t his point at all.

“You can.” His voice was just as low. “Of course you can, there’s nothing wrong with that. But you’re letting your love for him get in the way of us. Your grief, your longing, your bone deep aching for him is all you see when you’re with me, isn’t it?”

“No!” Martha looked away. “Yes. Kind of. No. I don’t look at you and see Steve. I look at you and see you and I think about how much it would hurt to lose you. Like I lost Steve. How much you mean to me, how much he meant to me.”

She had closed her eyes now, putting her hand over her mouth.

“I miss him so much. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. There are days were I long to go home and see him, to be able to hold him again. But I remember that he’s not there. The thought of going home without him feels awful.”

Wag was torn, again. He felt awful to make Martha talk about this, to make her relive every time she missed Steve, mourned Steve. But on the other, this was where they were falling apart.

“I’m not innocent in this, I must admit.” He started slowly. She looked back at him, tears on the verge of falling. “I feel like I’ve lost everything. My old life, my fellow wizards, the world I used to know.” Wag couldn’t meet her eyes on the next sentence. “My powers. They haven’t come back.”

“And I’ve drawn away from everyone and everything. Even you. And as easy as it would be to blame you for us falling apart, that’s not fair to you or to your grief. But we can’t keep killing ourselves like this.”

Martha had wrapped her arms around herself now. She pushed her chin up. “You’re right. Again. This dance we’ve been performing, it’s gone on long enough hasn’t it?” A wet laugh. “We can fix this now, fix,” she gestured between them, “Us. Now that we’ve pulled the facade away. That’s the first step, right? Taking down the act.”

Wag shook his head. He wanted to. So badly. To let this be the start of something better, to remake what they had. But the roots were rotten, not just the tree. Even if they cut off every dead branch, they’d only die out again.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not ready to try again.” His voice wavered. If he could cry he would.

All he had were tears of blood, ever streaming.

She was quiet. Then she bowed her head. “I understand. And I’d need time, too, if we were to try again.”

The conversation fell off, but it didn’t feel resolved. Wag pushed up the energy to ask one last question.

“Will I- will I still be your champion?” It was a dangerous question. And yet, still not the one he needed to ask.

Martha appraised him. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how to deal with my champion being a recent ex.” Nonetheless, she gave him a watery smile. “I’ll let you know when I make a decision.”

Wag nodded. Already, she was piecing herself back together. Faster than he ever could.

She went to turn away, opening her mouth to say one last thing, but Wag interrupted her. “Will we still be friends after this?”

A laugh, real this time. “Of course.” She shook her head fondly. “Goodbye Wag. Until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again.”

Martha made her way back inside, most likely about to tell Spark the news.

He felt detached from the world, thoughts echoing farther and farther away with each step Martha took. His eyes tracked her, watching how her hair moved, the grace in her stride- even has her body shook with hurt. Her neatly pressed and clean clothes, changed up from what she had worn in Ruxomar. A breathable, white silk long-sleeved shirt and dark leggings.

From the way her fingers curved in an elegant arch against her thighs to how her shoulders had slumped ever so slightly before the door closed behind her. In his head he could see her eyes sparkling, a lovely lavender to match her hair. He could hear her laugh, her voice, see her radiant smile that he always sought to draw out.

Wag could feel the floor disappear out from under him, feel himself sinking into the void. Empty, empty, empty. A chapter of his life was over, now. And it was by his own hand. For all he had feared change, he had caused it.

Was this better or worse?

A quiet, muted drip caught his attention. The world blurred back in. Wag looked down. A tiny, pink-ish speck on the floor. Another joined it with a plop. A shaking hand rose to his cheeks. Still bloody, but when he pulled it away it was also pink-ish. Runnier.

Tears.

He wanted to laugh. Instead, he strode out of the Town Hall, finding the familiar path home in a daze. A pink trail of bloody tears followed him.

He was going to miss her.

#sparklington #mianite #mianitefa #james hayes #jordan maron #waglington #captain sparklez #martha the mystic #spark conway #martha conway #the after series #if you look at my tags here and look at the tags on the first chapter #you can see where i started to get lazy lol

22 notes · View notes

colonel-insomniac · 4 years ago

Text

Heather— Conan Gray

And we are back! sorry for the long wait, i graduated, I’m getting ready to start uni, ive been a little busy. Anyways, read other Spongebob One-shots HERE and if its a while before i release another one, pls read my book The Other Planet HERE because I aim to publish it after rewriting. "I still remember, third of December, me in your sweater, you said it looked better on me than it did you…"

Bobby was slumped in a chair, chin resting on an arm that was propped up by a cafeteria table. Prom was a bust, that's really all he had discovered tonight.

Everyone always says prom is a magical night, and bonds are formed that will never break, and maybe Bobby is being a little over dramatic about this, but this dance turned out to be a total waste of seventy-five bucks.

Truthfully, he'd wanted to be asked to prom, and by Patrick. But when it became clear that wasn't happening, his mom had insisted he still go, despite his lamenting about not wanting to. She'd promised him that he would later wish he had gone. Bobby supposed it would be better than being sprawled on the couch, watching movies.

Now, however, all he wished to do was watch movies. Since he'd walked through the doors of the high school gym, Bobby had a flighty feeling gnawing at his insides. And he knew it was heartwarming when Pat walked through the doors with his mom, but he couldn't help wishing he was walking through that entrance with Patrick.

Bobby had ducked into the bathroom—accidentally into the girls first, where they asked why he looked upset after their initial shock—the boy's bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall, and sat for a couple minutes.

His heart was beating fast, so he pulled out his phone and played some Subway Surfer's in an attempt to calm down. It was just Pat after all, his best friend for life. There was no reason to be nervous.

And that's when he wound up at this table. He'd weaved his way through the throng of dancing kids, chatting with a couple of them before moving on. Bobby had managed to catch a couple of glances at Patrick, who was seated at a table with his mom. But they weren’t talking, he was looking around with a frown.

“Only if you knew, how much I liked you, but I watch your eyes as she walks by…”

Bobby had a sneaking suspicion that Patrick liked Sandy, a really smart Texan. He had no proof of this, of course, besides how much they seemed to hang out these days. Bobby felt bad about that thought. She’s not a bad person, Sandy, that is. She’s really smart, and shes’ pretty, and nice, and all good things. But Bobby had been missing his best friend recently. He’d tried talking to Edward—or Eddie, as Bobby called him, despite Edward’s scowls—but it was evident that the tall, clarinet playing, art adept boy was consumed with work, and consequently had no time to talk.

Bobby had sat down in the chair he’s now in, spinning stories out of the pattern on the table to keep himself occupied. Even he was aware how pitiful that sounded. Sandy and Edward had come up to him, separately of course, and chatted for a bit each. He’d grinned when Eddie voluntarily sat next to him, but Eddie had made sure Bobby knew he was only talking to him tonight because of how Bobby had been one of the few to treat him kindly. At that, Bobby’s mouth fell open in shock. Eddie was such a fun person to be around in his opinion. He’s going to have to talk with people and tell them how awesome Eddie is.

Bobby half listens to what Eddie is telling him, nodding his head in agreement as he thinks of how he can help the talented man. Soon enough, Edward decides he’s talked enough, and excuses himself. That’s when Sandy practically leapt out of the almost non-existent shadows, nearly giving Bobby a heart attack. He jumps a little, and Sandy smiles, apologizing for startling him. “You? Scare me? No, no, I was just getting up!” Bobby tries, knowing that Sandy knows it’s a lie.

“What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky, she’s got you mesmerized, while I die…”

“Mhm, sure.” Sandy gives him a knowing look. “Why are ya camped out here anyhow?” Bobby shrugs, not wanting to explain. “Patrick has been lookin’ for ya, he seems worried ‘bout somethin’.” Bobby looks away, feeling guilty.

The ever-perceptive girl takes note of the expression on Bobby’s face, and in one motion, pulls out a chair and sits down. Bobby keeps his head tilted towards the table, hoping she won’t want him to talk about it. “Now, what’s wrong Bobby? You’ve been actin’ stranger than a cow dancin’ at a disco rodeo.” Bobby’s eyebrows scrunch together, a little confused by the saying, but then he shakes his head and thinks up a response.

He shrugs, “Nothing, I just don’t wanna be here anymore.” Sandy’s own eyebrows shoot up, and she asks what he means by that.

“Why would you ever kiss me, I’m not even half as pretty, you gave her your sweater it's just polyester, but you like her better, wish I were Heather…”

Bobby lifts his shoulder again, not sure of what to say or how to say it. He blows air out, watching a strand of his hair float up and fall down again while he thinks. Sandy see the discomfort on his face, and drags him outside, into the quiet. The air out here fills Bobby’s lungs, pleasantly warm. It smells like spring, hope, rebirth, renewal. “Now talk.” She orders, and he has no choice but to admire her persistence.

“I kinda like Pat.” It’s a low whisper, and Sandy’s face brightens. Bobby frowns. “What’re you smiling about?”

Sandy quickly irons out her face, assuring him that there’s nothing going on, gesturing for him to continue. “But I think he likes you, not me.” Bobby stares hard at a tree, watching as the moonlight pokes through the holes in the leaves.

Sandy makes a sound in the back of her throat, and Bobby can’t quite place an emotion to the sound. “He’s a great guy, I would know, I did spend the past 17 years of my life with him.” Bobby continues, turning to Sandy and plastering a bright, fake smile on his face as he grabs her hands. “Pat’s a lot of fun to be around, he’s also really soft.” Bobby stares up and away from Sandy, trying to keep his emotions under control.

“Bobby, you’ve got it all wrong—” Sandy starts, and Bobby numbly thinks how she does look pretty ethereal right now, and kinda all the time. How could someone not like her?

“Watch as she stands with her holding your hand, put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder…”

“Trust me, Sandy, it’s okay. If you like him too, you should tell him. You guys will…have a lot of fun together.” He’s trying to work himself up to be happy. He should be happy for the two anyways.

He hardly hears himself as he continues on, rambling, Sandy watching him with eyes that keep getting wider. It’s when he’s starting to turn to go back inside, and turning her too, that Sandy seems to snap out of her shock, and grabs Bobby’s shoulders. “Listen Bobby,” Bobby opens his mouth to ask something, confused, but Sandy shakes her head, so he nods. “You gotta trust me on this one. Pat doesn’t like me. I know who he likes, and this person is at this party. Patrick’s plannin’ on tellin’ them tonight, so you oughta at least go and see him.” Bobby shakes his head, once, before Sandy frowns at him. “He’s itchin’ to talk to you, been missin’ you all night, and y’all are both actin’ pretty dang stupid.” Bobby’s too confused, puzzling over that last part, and before he can protest it, Sandy’s grabbed his hand, and drags him inside.

“But how could I hate her? She's such an angel, but then again, kinda wish she were dead, as she walks by, what a sight for sore eyes, brighter than a blue sky, she's got you mesmerized, while I die…”

“Sandy…” That’s all Bobby can get out. The cold of the air condition raises goosebumps on his arms, and okay, maybe that isn’t the only reason. Because now, he’s going to be face to face with Patrick, and only Sandy knows why she’s doing this.

He didn’t think he was wrong though, about Patrick liking Sandy. But now that she’s said that it isn’t her, Bobby feels almost like he’s been thrown into an existential crisis. His stomach clenches, and he desperately tries to stall by any means necessary, but Sandy doesn’t buy any of the excuses he’s giving her. She just tells Bobby to trust him and keeps moving.

Bobby sees Pat sitting with his mom. His back is towards Sandy and Bobby, but he nods his head at whatever his mom says. Sandy deposits Bobby in a corner, and tells him to “wait there and don’t move,” before making her way over to the pair.

He debates slipping away, now that Sandy’s back is turned, but he’s frozen instead, helplessly watching the scene unfold in front of him. From what he can see, Sandy puts a hand on Pat’s shoulder, greeting his mom, who smiles at her. Patrick’s looking up at her, and she briefly addresses him before pulling him up. Bobby’s heart is beating wildly in his body, and he swallows as Sandy brushes off the shoulders of Pat’s suit before leading him toward Bobby.

“Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty, you gave her your sweater, it's just polyester, but you like her better, I wish I were Heather…”

Patrick catches sight of Bobby before the pair is in front of him, and Bobby finds himself mesmerized by Patrick. When they stop, Sandy waits for a beat or two, and exits, aiming a pointed glance at Bobby, the meaning of which he is able to immediately decipher. She’s telling him to confess. That thought sends him into a state of panic, and he blushes, not sure what to do or say.

“Hey.” Is the first thing to come out of his mouth, and he considers literally face-palming. Instead, however, Bobby watches Patrick’s face scrunch up.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” Bobby flinches at the emotion underneath the question. He never meant to hurt Patrick, never thought he was.

But now he knows better. “I thought you liked Sandy, I was trying to stay out of the way so you could tell her.” Pat looks taken aback by Bobby’s confession.

“I don’t….” Pat starts to say something, but trails off, looking slightly confused.

Bobby breathes in, stomach knotting and unknotting over and over as he debates saying it. He closes his eyes. “I like you.” Those three words stop everything. Bobby’s mind goes still, and he knows it’s impossible, but he swears it feels as though his heart has stopped.

His hands drop to his sides—funny, he didin’t remember lifting them to begin with— and looks to the side, away from Patrick. He struggles—and fails—to keep a couple of tears from escaping, and he brushes them off, sniffing. “It’s okay, though. You should talk to the person you like.” He starts to back away, back hitting the wall behind him.

“Wish I were Heather, wish I were Heather…”

“Bobby, you should’ve told me—” Pat starts, grabbing the shorter of the two and wraps his arms around Bobby. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you that I liked you.”

Bobby’s confused. Patrick likes him? “Wait what?” Bobby smartly asks. Patrick breathes in, and exhales before responding. Bobby supposes he’s thinking about what to say.

“I like you too. I’ve been hanging out with Sandy to get advice on how to tell you. I–we—eventually decided I should do it tonight, at prom.” Bobby doesn’t realize how tightly he’s holding onto Patrick, he’s too focused on listening to what’s being said.

He breathes in, and is surrounded by the scent of Patrick, Hot Topic’s Sugar Cookie scent. Bobby knows Pat would never admit to shopping there, so around the holidays, when they release the scent, Bobby buys a ton for Pat just in case he should run out. “I would never just stop hanging out with you.”

“Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty…”

“Sorry,” Bobby mutters, knowing Pat will hear it. “I should’ve asked if everything was alright instead of assuming and hiding. Especially since we've been best friends since birth."

Patrick shakes his head, and after a minute, both feel as though the hug has branched into the awkward category.

Bobby decides it's probably rude to not say hi to Patrick's mom, and when he brings that up to Pat, his best friend (who likes him back?) offers an arm with a goofy grin. Bobby takes this in stride, placing his hand on the inside of Patrick's elbow, trying to match with an equally enthusiastic grin. The pair set off towards the table Mrs. Starr is sitting at, finding Sandy chatting with her.

"Hey Mrs. Starr! Hey-a Sandy." Bobby leans down to hug Patrick's mother.

"Bobby and I were gonna dance." He tugs Bobby over to the floor, and Bobby waves at the two, sending a smile their way.

"Pat, I can't dance." Bobby mutters, but he wraps his arms around Patrick's neck anyways. In return, the taller of the two places his hands at Bobby's waist, tentatively, as though not sure whether Bobby was fine with it.

The contact sent a shiver down Bobby's back, stepping closer to Patrick. "Sure you can, anyone can dance, really." Patrick snorts softly, and Bobby elects to leave the matter, leaning his head on Pat's shoulder.

"You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester..."

"So," Pat begins saying something, and Bobby peacefully listens. "Would you like to go with me tomorrow and get ice cream in the park?” Bobby leans away, playfully grinning at Pat.

“Is that a date?” Bobby laughs a little, knowing the answer already. Pat punches Bobby lightly on the shoulder.

“You know it is.” Bobby can’t resist leaning up on his toes and placing a chaste kiss on Patrick’s cheek. When he pulls back, he’s delighted to see the faint pink blush on his companion’s cheek.

And if anyone were to ask him, he definitely did not squeal when Patrick picked him up and spun him around.

“But you like her better, wish I were…”

#patbob #spongerick #spongebob #patrick #sandy #mr krabs #squidward #spongebob the musical

19 notes · View notes

emmerrr · 5 years ago

Note

Ahh don't worry about not being able to write something for my prompt! Maybe at some point you could just wirte them going to some costume party at some point during the year just because! hahahaha Again, don't worry! ♥ And since you're open to winter/Christimas prompts, maybe "cutting down/decorating the tree"? Pynch, because yes. ♥

@deerlovelylily asked: adam + ronan picking out/decorating the xmas tree for the holiday prompts ?? 💕

this is on ao3 too! enjoy :)

deck the halls

Ronan was usually very good at letting Adam sleep in on a Saturday morning, which is why Adam was surprised and not just a little disgruntled at being dragged out of bed when it wasn’t quite yet light on the first Saturday of December.

Ronan plied him with coffee and bundled him into a coat and then into the car. Adam turned the heat up as high as it would go and sat back, arms crossed as he glared at Ronan.

“This better be astronomically good,” he said.

“It will be,” Ronan insisted, and he looked so bright and excited and rosy-cheeked that Adam didn’t have it in him to stay annoyed.

He rested his hand over Ronan’s on the gear-stick. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“You’ll see.”

“Oh, awesome, a surprise,” Adam drawled, so okay, there was still some room for annoyance.

Ronan glanced at him with a smile. He started to sing: “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happyyyy—”

“Fuck off,” Adam said, but he was laughing, finally. He squeezed Ronan’s fingers.

After around twenty minutes on the road, Adam noticed signs for a Christmas tree farm. “Are we…?”

Ronan didn’t reply, but sure enough, he slowed down as they approached the turn off, then pulled into the busy parking lot.

“C’mon, Parrish, all the good ones will be gone soon,” he said as he got out of the car.

Adam followed. He’d never been to a Christmas tree farm before. They’d never had a real one back at the trailer, just a very ancient and small fake one with a set of string lights, the bulbs of which were mostly no longer working. It was a sad sight, but Christmases at the Parrish household hadn’t been fun for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t a time of year he particularly looked forward to.

This year, though, he was finally out of the trailer. He had his own apartment, and he’d be spending the holidays with Ronan and his brothers at the Barns. He was looking forward to it, immensely.

He just hadn’t been expecting to be dragged into the various holiday traditions.

“Come on,” Ronan said again, grabbing Adam’s hand to hurry him along a little faster.

“You’re getting the tree today?” Adam asked.

“Correction, Parrish, we’re getting the tree today. It’s tradition.”

“What’s tradition?”

Ronan absently brought Adam’s hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it, causing Adam’s stomach to do a little somersault.

“Every year,” he explained, “on the first Saturday of December, we’d come here and get our Christmas tree, then spend the afternoon listening to Christmas songs and decorating.”

It hit Adam now, that this was something the whole Lynch family used to do. It also hit him that it was something they wouldn’t have been able to do since Niall had died. And now Ronan was finally allowed back at the Barns, but Aurora was gone now, too. So much had happened so quickly.

The air smelled of pine and hot chocolate from a little stall that had been set up, and the place was busy; families picking out trees, bartering with the tree farmers, assistants helping people load them onto their cars.

Adam felt the enormity of the gesture of Ronan bringing him here, and stopped. As they were still holding hands, Ronan stopped too, and turned around to face Adam, confusion in his eyes.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Adam said, shaking his head. “It’s just...don’t you want to wait and do this with your brothers?”

Ronan frowned. “They won’t be back home until just before Christmas, it’ll be too late then. And besides, I want to do this with you.”

Adam’s heart swelled, but at the same time his brain cautioned him. “Are you sure?”

Ronan grinned and kissed him on the forehead. “Why else would I risk the wrath from getting you up so fucking early?”

Adam smiled and took Ronan’s hand again. “Alright, fair enough, lead the way. What’re we looking for?”

“A tree, Einstein.”

“Lynch, I will murder you.”

Ronan laughed, less of the sharpness in it Adam was so used to, and more of a happy thing that was being coaxed out more and more.

“One that’ll look good in the living room,” he finally offered.

“Whereabouts there do you usually put it?”

“In front of the window that overlooks the fields. In the middle.”

Adam closed his eyes, picturing it. “Okay. Got it,” he said, and set about the task with boundless sincerity.

It only took about ten minutes to find the one. It was big but not too big, and was very green and had plenty of branches for ornaments. Adam could easily imagine it in the space Ronan wanted it, and by the satisfied look on Ronan’s face, he agreed.

They flagged down an employee and paid up, and Ronan turned down the offer of help to get it to the car.

Carrying it between them, Adam asked, “Are you sure we don’t need help? This is pretty big, Ronan, can we even get it on the car?”

“I got us covered. Trust me.”

Adam sighed. He did trust Ronan, he just also wished he knew the specifics of what they were going to do to secure the tree.

When they reached the BMW, Adam saw that there was a roof rack on top that he had obviously been too tired to notice on getting in. He looked at it dubiously.

“Will this even take the weight of the tree?”

“It’s supposed to take the weight of anything,” Ronan said.

“Ah. Dream thing?”

“Dream thing.”

“Soooo...does it work?”

Ronan smiled cheerfully. “Let’s find out.”

Together, they managed to get the tree well-situated on the roof rack, and it held easily. Adam made sure it was attached securely while Ronan doubled back for hot chocolates.

They sat on the bumper to drink them, looking out across the rest of the tree farm and the hustle and bustle going on there. It was the kind of day that was cold enough that you could practically smell it in the air, skies so clear that the low temperatures were biting. But it was made better by Ronan’s ankle hooked over Adam’s, by the heat from the hot chocolate warming his hands, by Ronan’s extraordinarily good mood infecting Adam with good cheer of his own.

Ronan used his finger to scoop out a dollop of whipped cream from his hot chocolate, and dotted it on Adam’s nose with an unrepentant grin.

Adam sighed, but even he could hear how fond he sounded.

“You got something there, Parrish.”

“Uh huh.”

“Here, I got it.” Ronan lunged forward and licked it off too quickly for Adam to register. He yelped and lightly batted Ronan’s face away, laughing and scrubbing at his nose with his coat sleeve.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Ronan mimicked, not looking at all sorry. “In my defence, you should’ve seen that coming a mile off.”

After a moment of consideration, Adam nodded in concession, whilst also secretly plotting his revenge. “Fair enough.” He downed the rest of his drink and hopped to his feet. “Let’s go decorate this thing.”

Once they arrived back, it took some effort to get the damn tree inside. It was difficult to maneuver through doorways, and it moulted like crazy. Opal followed behind them as they painstakingly carried it through to the living room, picking up fallen pine needles and twigs off the floor and chewing on them.

They got it roughly where they wanted it, and then Ronan spent ages getting Adam to help him make tiny adjustments until he decided it was absolutely dead-centre. After that, Adam was officially starving so he went into the kitchen to make some grilled cheese sandwiches while Ronan vacuumed up all the dropped pine needles Opal had yet to get to.

With lunch out of the way, Ronan went up into the attic and passed several boxes down to Adam, all of which were labeled XMAS DECORATIONS. Adam carried them back down to the living room one by one, putting them by the tree before going back for more.

Ronan passed down the last one then climbed down the ladder and pushed it back up into the attic space. “Y’know,” Adam said as Ronan fell into step beside him, “it kinda feels like you only wanted me to help so you’d have someone else to do all the heavy lifting.”

“Obviously, Parrish, did you see how many boxes there were?”

“I did see. Because I carried them all down. One by one.”

Ronan jostled Adam jovially and took the box from him.

Adam smiled. “I appreciate it, but that’s kind of an empty gesture at this point seeing as I literally carried all the other boxes down. And also this is the lightest one.”

They reached the living room and Ronan put the box down, before wrapping his arms around Adam’s waist, pulling him close and kissing across his cheek before lingering on his lips.

“Tell you what. Next year you can pass down the boxes and I’ll carry them downstairs. Does that sound fair?”

It did sound fair, and it sounded like a promise, and it sounded like an invitation; Ronan wanted Adam this Christmas, and he’d want him next Christmas too. It made him feel warm inside and he pressed his face into Ronan’s neck and held him tight.

“Yeah,” he mumbled against Ronan’s skin. “That sounds fair.”

He pulled away, noticing the soft expression on Ronan’s face and filing it away to revisit later. “So. What’s first.”

“First, tunes,” Ronan said, heading over to the record player in the corner. He flicked through a few records until he found the one he was looking for, then put it on. A song Adam wasn’t familiar started to play, but there were sleigh bells in it so it was Christmassy enough.

“Next, lights.”

“Which box are they in?” Adam asked.

Ronan looked at the bulging boxes, then at Adam, and he shrugged. “I’ve got no fucking idea.”

Adam sighed. “Of course you don’t.”

The next half hour was spent unpacking all of the boxes and sorting out what was in them into two piles; one for tree decorations, one for non-tree decorations.

“When we pack all of these back up after the holidays, I’m organising it properly,” Adam said in exasperation as he pulled out a set of lights that were horrendously tangled with some tinsel.

He wasn’t looking at Ronan to see, but he heard the smile in his voice when he said, “You do that.” He flipped Ronan off without looking up, and was rewarded with a laugh.

As soon as everything was set up in a way that made sense to Adam, they started draping fairy lights around the tree. There were two sets of tree lights, and they used both seeing as how the tree was big enough to take that many, and also they had decided not to put any tinsel on it. (“Chainsaw will eat it,” Ronan said. “It’ll be bad for her.”)

Next came the ornaments. These came in various shapes and sizes, and a lot of them seemed to be homemade. Adam held up a crocheted penguin. “Does it matter where any of these go?”

“Nah,” Ronan shook his head. “Anything goes anywhere.”

There were a lot of tree ornaments, which was good, because there was a lot of tree to put them on. It was a slow process, because they kept stopping to dance together, Ronan humming along to the music in Adam’s hearing ear, or because Adam kept asking for the stories behind the various ornaments. There was a particularly heavy pair of crudely made reindeer ornaments that Matthew had made out of clay when he was little that never got to go on the tree because they were too heavy for the tree to take their weight.

Adam got to the bottom of his box of ornaments to find three left in there. Again, they looked homemade, but they were neat and light. All of them were Christmas stockings in different colours, with different toys sticking out the top, and a different name on each; Declan, Ronan, and Matthew.

Matthew’s was yellow and orange with a teddy bear and a candy cane poking out, Declan’s was blue and white with a baseball bat, ball, and glove visible in the stocking. And Ronan’s was red and black, a toy car and a gingerbread man sticking out the top.

Adam picked them up carefully and took them over to Ronan. “You should hang these ones up.”

Ronan finished hanging up a vaguely creepy Santa then turned to look. A small smile crossed his face, and he gently picked up the one with his name on it, almost like he was afraid he might break it.

“Mom made these when we were kids,” he explained. “The presents sticking out are some of what we got for Christmas that year. Matthew’s teddy bear, my toy car. Declan really wanted to join a little league baseball team but Dad wouldn’t let him. So they got him his own gear for Christmas instead.”

Adam watched as Ronan hung up his little namesake ornament near the top of the tree.

“What about these ones?” he asked, holding up Matthew and Declan’s.

“Leave them on the windowsill, they can hang their own when they get home.”

This was another tradition, Adam realised. The Lynch brothers always hung the ornament that had their own name on it. He stared up at Ronan’s a little wistfully. He reached up and gently brushed his fingers over the delicate lettering that made up Ronan’s name.

“Adam.”

He turned, and Ronan stood behind him, one hand in his jeans pocket. His expression was a little guarded, but it cleared at whatever he saw on Adam’s face. He leaned forward and kissed Adam high on his cheek, just under his eye.

“Here,” he said, and pulled something out of his pocket and pressed it into Adam’s hand. He felt the warmth of it.

Adam uncurled his fingers, and in his hand was a little stocking ornament of his very own. It was two different shades of green, and out of the top peeked the Magician tarot card, and a toy car. The toy car in Adam’s, unlike in Ronan’s, was the same one he’d been looking at in Ronan’s bedroom, right before they had kissed for the first time. The lettering of his name was made to look like vines.

Adam couldn’t stop looking at it.

“Did you dream this?” he finally managed to get out.

Ronan nodded. “Woke up with it this morning.”

Adam’s heart clenched; Ronan had been carrying this around in his pocket all day. “I love it,” he whispered, then reached up to hang it on the tree right next to Ronan’s.

It was the last tree ornament to go up, and Adam stepped back so he was next to Ronan, and he twined their fingers together as they marveled at the tree.

Ronan bumped his shoulder into Adam’s. “Not bad, Parrish.”

Adam grinned. It was all mismatched and colourful, and the ornament distribution wasn’t quite even, but it didn’t matter. “I think you’ll find it’s perfect, Lynch.”

“Oh!” Ronan said, remembering something. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

He ran upstairs as Opal slunk in from the kitchen. She grabbed onto a handful of pine needles. “Can I eat them now?”

Adam put a hand on her head and she tucked into his side. “Not this one,” he said. “Take your pick from the trees outside, any of them are up for grabs.”

“Fine,” she sighed, like it was a huge imposition.

Ronan returned, carrying a chicken-wire rendition of Chainsaw wearing a Santa hat. He was grinning as he held it out. “Instead of a star,” he said proudly.

He handed it to Opal then swung her up so she was sitting on his shoulders, narrowly avoiding getting kicked in the face by wayward hooves. It took some explaining to get her to wrap chicken-wire Chainsaw’s feet around the branches to secure it to the tree, but she got there in the end.

When Ronan put her down, she looked up at her contribution, nodded in satisfaction, and slunk out again, presumably to eat Adam-approved trees outside.

With the tree now done, the rest of the decorations were quick enough to dot about the place. Various table ornaments, festive snow globes, candles, and wreaths were put up throughout the downstairs of the farmhouse. Over the fireplace, Ronan hung up five Christmas stockings, one for Declan, one for Matthew, one for him, one for Adam, and one for Opal.

They made the house feel full. Adam tried to imagine what it would be like to be here over Christmas with Ronan and his family, instead of back at the trailer where he usually spent Christmas trying to avoid his father.

He just couldn’t picture it; he’d have to experience it instead.

The thought made him smile.

“What are you smiling at?” Ronan asked.

“Nothing.” Adam shrugged. “Just happy, I guess.”

Ronan looked like he was going to say something, but then he changed his mind and shook his head. He was smiling too, though. He finished hanging the last wreath on the kitchen door, then dusted his hands off. “And that’s it.” He looped his arm over Adam’s shoulders. “Job well done, Parrish.”

Adam leaned into Ronan, relishing the way Ronan automatically pressed a kiss into his hair. How quickly they’d settled into this relationship. How right it felt.

“You say that, but there’s a pile of empty boxes and bags in the living room.”

“Good fucking point,” Ronan allowed. “Okay, how about you go and stack all of the boxes and bags and leave them upstairs for me to put in the attic later, and I’ll make us hot chocolates and then put a movie on?”

Adam hummed this over. “I’m agreeing to this only because you make a better hot chocolate than I do.”

“Big of you to admit that,” Ronan said with a smirk, then tapped Adam on the ass as he headed into the living room to tidy up.

In fairness, it didn’t take long to get all the empty boxes together, and by the time he got back downstairs after removing them, Ronan was just finishing up with the drinks.

Adam waited in the living room. Ronan had started a fire, and with the Christmas tree lights on as well as one of the lamps, the whole room was cozy and warm and inviting. He’d initially had homework he wanted to get done today, but he suddenly couldn’t find it in him to care; it could wait until tomorrow. Adam had better plans for tonight.

Ronan returned with their drinks, both piled high with whipped cream and dusted with cocoa. They smelled amazing, even better than the ones they’d had at the tree farm that morning.

Adam took his gratefully.

“Careful,” Ronan said. “They’ll be hot.”

He put his down on the coffee table, so Adam did the same, and they sat down on the sofa. Ronan pulled a blanket around them, then let out a contented sigh as he dropped his head back and shut his eyes.

Adam thought back to last Christmas. He could never have imagined, a year ago, that he’d get to have days like this. He was excited to see where the years to come would take them.

But for now, he was happy to have some peace and downtime with Ronan.

Well, relative peace, at least. He leaned forward and scooped out the whipped cream from the top of his hot chocolate. Then he smeared it all over Ronan’s cheek.

Ronan’s eyes flew open. “You sneaky bastard,” he said with a helpless laugh.

Lightning quick, Adam licked a clean line through the cream on Ronan’s face, amid much scoffing and spluttering and laughing.

“Unbelievable, Parrish,” Ronan said, grabbing a tissue to clean the rest of his face.

“In my defence,” Adam replied, “you should’ve seen that coming a mile off.”

#the raven cycle #pynch #tumblr prompts #trc fic #trc

107 notes · View notes

leigh-kelly · 5 years ago

Text

Elf Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

As bummed as Brittany was that that Santa at Gimbal’s wasn’t real, she couldn’t deny that she was still excited to go to work so she could see Santana. Maybe Santana thought she was weird, but she still was going to keep her promise to prove to her that Santa was real. Her idea had just…become a little more complicated.

When she got to work, Santana was at the fake Santa’s side. She was lifting a baby into his arms and although Brittany was nervous about these people letting some stranger hold their babies, she couldn’t help but be charmed by Santana holding that baby. She had these really cute dimples and her face shone as she looked down into the tiny face and Brittany wanted to pitch her cheeks. It was almost too much for her to handle and she just wished she had any idea how to talk to girls. All of the elves kind of ignored her when she was in the North Pole so she had no experience flirting and she figured what she needed to do was flirt.

“Brittany!” Schuester yelled. “You’re late!”

“In the North Pole, late is early and early is too early!”

“Cut the…C-R-A-P and help with crowd control, Santana can’t handle it by herself.”

“Yes, I can.” Santana rolled her eyes. “I’m not an idiot.”

“It’s okay, Santana. I’m here. You can do the babies since you’re so cute with them and I’ll take care of the big kids.”

“Wait, what?” Santana did a double take and Brittany blushed.

“Nothing, never mind…I’ll just…help.”

The shift was much crazier than Brittany thought. The kids were screaming and crying and she thought that was absolutely not what was supposed to happen around Santa Claus. Maybe, Brittany suspected, the kids knew that this guy was a total fake and if they knew he was a fake, Santana absolutely had to know and this was totally going against her plan. In order to make everything work—well, except for getting her mom on the nice list, that was a totally different plan—Brittany would have to call the real Santa and get him to come. But he didn’t answer his cell phone in December, that was the rule, so, her plan was stalled a little.

After Brittany’s shift was over, it was just at the exact time that she knew Deidre was getting out of school. Brittany wanted to spend time with her sister, have what she always wanted, so she sprinted downtown and found a spot on the bench outside of the school. When she saw Deidre walking out, she jumped up and shouted her name, clapping excitedly.

“Deidre! Deidre! It’s me, Brittany!”

“What the hell, Brittany?” Deidre rolled her eyes and tried to blend in with her friends but Brittany just followed close behind, waiting until they were in the middle of the park.

Suddenly, Deidre was standing alone and the park got oddly quiet. Brittany looked around, feeling like something was amiss—she did get some kind of elf sense, just from living with Papa Elf for so many years. Deidre whipped her head around and looked at Brittany.

“Run!” She screamed, taking off, just as snowballs started to fly. Brittany chased after her, following her as she ducked behind a rock.

“I knew they were going to do this.” Deidre huffed, out of breath.

“Your friends?”

“They suck, okay?”

“Just start making snowballs as fast as you can!”

Before Deidre could even make one snowball, Brittany had a stack of them and was whipping them at the kids who were attacking them. Deidre’s eyes widened and she looked at Brittany, hurling the one snowball in her hand at the girl who was running away from Brittany’s torrent of snow. The ball whacked the girl in the back of the head and though Brittany had only known Deidre for a day, she knew that her laughing was totally not something she did normally.

“That was awesome! How did you even do that?”

“We have snowball fights all the time in the North Pole. I’m actually the slowest one!”

“So you’re serious about this North Pole stuff, huh? Mom is pretty pissed about it.”

“She seems like everything makes her mad.” Brittany furrowed her brow.

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it, she’s not around much.” Deidre shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“If I’ve learned anything in my life, I’d say that when you have to say it’s no big deal, it probably is.”

“I have my dad, he’s super cool, so it’s whatever.”

“What does she even do? She has that big fancy office and stuff.”

“She’s the president of a kids’ book publishing company. Which is shocking because she hates kids.”

“How can she hate kids?” Brittany furrowed her brow. “She has kids.”

“Yeah well, neither of us were exactly planned. I mean, my dad wanted to have me, but…”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she told me. I’m telling you, she’s not nice.”

“Is that why she’s on the Naughty List?”

“She’s probably on the Naughty List because she screws everyone over that she comes in contact with. Last week, she sent out a bunch of books missing pages because she didn’t want to spend the money to fix them. She said that kids wouldn’t care. And she, like, openly talks about this at dinner like my dad is going to sympathize with her. I don’t even know why he’s still married to her to be honest, I just wish he’d take me and move away.”

“Sometimes people on the Naughty List don’t have a bad heart. I think she just needs some help.”

“Look, Brittany, I know you think you’re magical or whatever, but I think she’s beyond help.”

“Just give me—oh my God! Oh my God!”

“What?” Deirdre cocked her head to the side as Brittany started jumping up and down.

“It’s her!”

“Who?”

“The most beautiful girl in the entire world.” Brittany subtly pointed toward Santana, who was all bundled up in her winter clothes and walking directly toward them. “Her name is Santana and she’s beautiful and smart and has an amazing singing voice and I promised her I’d convince her that Santa is real.”

“Why would you promise that?”

“Because he is.”

“Listen, that’s not how you’re gonna get a girl to like you. You need to go up to her and ask her on a date. Like, see if she wants to get food. Not candy, real food. I have like…fifty bucks that you can borrow, just see if she’ll go out with you.”

“How do I—Santana! Santana! Hi!” Brittany got overexcited as Santana approached and Deidre elbowed her in the side to try to calm her down.

“Jeeze, be cool for like two seconds.”

“Brittany.” Santana ran her hand through her hair. “You’re still dressed from work.”

“Oh…yeah, this is like the only thing I own. Um. I was wondering if you wanted to maybe..have food with me?”

“Have food with you?”

“Yeah.” Deidre cut in. “She wants to take you out, like on a date.”

“Deidre!”

“What? You do.”

“Oh…yeah, that could be cool.” Santana smiled and Brittany felt like the whole park lit up with her beauty. It was kind of cheesy, but Brittany was head over heels, even after knowing Santana for only two days. “Everything is kind of crazy with work and Christmas, but I could maybe do tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Is that not good?”

“It’s good.” Deidre answered for Brittany. “She’ll meet you and at Le Bernadin at seven.”

After seeing Santana in the park and asking her out on a date—very much with Deidre’s help—Brittany started to freak out. She didn’t know the first thing about dates and after Santana made the comment about her still being in her elf clothes, Brittany felt like she had to figure out a way to change. Luckily, Deidre was a miracle worker. After telling her that she was absolutely going to charge the dinner to their mother’s account at the restaurant—since she had apparently chosen a restaurant way outside of the fifty dollar budget—the two of them raided Whitney’s closet and got Brittany into a gorgeous green dress that still made her feel elf enough, but also looked classy as heck for dinner with Santana.

Brittany was a total nervous wreck as Deidre saw her out the door and she totally forgot that she was supposed to be focusing on the Naughty List scenario with her mother. But she was so psyched to be having dinner with Santana that she felt like she had eaten a thousand gumdrops and couldn’t stop the sugar rush in her head. When she got to the restaurant, Santana was sitting at the bar in a red dress and Brittany couldn’t help but think that they went together like two perfect Christmas colors.

“You’re early.” Brittany walked you behind Santana and seriously wanted to touch her shiny hair. “Now I feel late.”

“You’re fine.” Santana laughed. “Here, have a drink with me.”

“Okay.” Brittany grinned and looked at the bartender. “One chocolate milk with a crazy straw please.”

“Miss, we don’t have ‘crazy straws’ here. And we don’t have chocolate milk either.”

“Bummer. Um…I’ll have what she’s Gavin

“Bummer. Um…I’ll have what she’s having. What are you having?”

“A peppermint martini, do you want to try it first?” Santana offered,

“That’s okay, I love anything peppermint! Like candy canes and peppermint candy and peppermint hot chocolate and peppermint marshmallows…”

“You’re a little strange, but I think it’s cute.”

“I think you’re really cute. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to say that, but since you said it first…this is like, my first date ever, so…”

“This is your first date ever?” Santana looked surprised and Brittany nodded as the bartender placed the martini down in front of her.

“Yeah, I’m not going to talk about the North Pole because it makes people act weird, but…”

“Look, when I first met you, I thought you were kind of crazy, but I don’t know why I’m even thinking this. You sound like you’re telling the truth.”

“Oh, I am.” Brittany lifted her martini and downed the whole thing at once. “Wowza! That tastes like shoe polish!”

“You’ve tasted shoe polish before?”

“No, but you know what I mean, it tastes like it smells. You drink this for fun?”

“I usually drink to get drunk…which I think you’ll be well on the way to in about five minutes” Santana giggled, making Brittany turn bright red. “Let’s get you to a table so we can get some food in you.”

Brittany absolutely felt that martini go to her head as she followed Santana to the table and she was really, really glad that the waiter put down a basket of bread. She took a piece, buttered it and then looked around to see if there was any sugar. Since there wasn’t, she took a big bite without it and immediately made a face.

“What?”

“This could really use some sugar.”

“It’s bread.” Santana laughed. “It’s full of complex carbs that turn into sugar when you digest it.”

“Huh. Weird. So, you know all kinds of stuff about me, tell me about you.”

“Well, I was born and raised in Lima, Ohio. I moved to New York to be an actress, but so far that’s not going great. I’m working at Gimbal’s basically to pay the bills. I guess acting as an elf is a decent way to flex my skills.”

“For what it’s worth, you play a convincing elf. You’re just..a little tall.”

“That’s the first time in my life anyone has ever called me tall.” Santana shook her head with a chuckle. “If I’m tall for an elf, you must me a giant.”

“Oh, I am: I always got to change the batteries in the smoke detectors.” Brittany bragged a little. “Have you made any movies?”

“One. I played Penelope Cruz’s butt.”

“You played her butt?”

“Listen, I’m not proud of it, but she insists on a butt double, my rent was due and…I did it.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you have a much better butt than Penelope Cruz.”

“Do you have movies in the North Pole?” Santana raised an eyebrow.

“Of course we do, how do you think we keep up on human culture? There are no humans in the North Pole…well, except for me.”

“How did you even end up there?”

“My mom put me up for adoption, I ended up in Santa’s bag, Papa Elf raised me, that’s about it. Does that make you believe in Santa?”

“Brittany, to be honest, I’d need a real Christmas miracle to believe in Santa.”

It surprised Brittany that dinner with Santana went so well. Even when they ate snails, Brittany didn’t barf. After they were finished and Brittany drank another shoe polish martini that made her super giggly, she listened to Deidre’s advice and walked Santana home. When they got outside of her apartment, Brittany was shocked that it was dirty and dingy and it looked like the neighborhood was super unsafe.

“Don’t judge, this is the only place I can afford to live in Manhattan. It’s like the size of a postage stamp inside.”

“Hey, I grew up in a house where I could barely fit in the bathroom.” Brittany confesses.

“You know, I really like you a lot.”

“Really? Because I like you too, and Deidre said if it went well, I could kiss you.”

“As weird as it is that you’re taking dating advice from a fifteen year old, I’d really like that a lot.”

As Brittany leaned in to kiss Santana, she had to keep her squeal inside of her body. Feeling Santana’s lips on her own was better than Christmas cookies and tinsel and reindeer combined and she decided that she wanted to be kissing her forever. Santana seemed in no rush to pull away either so they just kept kissing and kissing until a police siren broke them apart and Santana pulled back with a dreamy smile on her face.

“Well, goodnight Brittany.”

“Goodnight Santana.”

#brittana #elf #brittany the elf

35 notes · View notes

cilliansaccent · 5 years ago

Text

The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 10

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better.

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!! e.

——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 4,137

!!Warnings!!: Smut!! Graphic Smut!!! ;) Enjoy you naughty kiddies.

Date: December 2016

Chapter Name: Distract me, Cillian.

Brief Chapter Outline: Gabrijela talks to Cillian what happened to her at the Christmas party before they discuss her hobby as a band member before it ends with one hell of a steamy afternoon...

——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——- ——-

When Gabrijela woke up, she felt sick and iffy. She coughed pushing herself up with an arm as she rubbed her eyes. She was alone in the bed, but the door was open and she could hear music coming from downstairs.

She got out of the bed and found some slippers set beside the bed. She slipped them on. She walked over to the window and pushed back the heavy drapes, it was raining lightly outside. She loved the rain, this was perfect weather to be in bed.

She smiled and turned and headed out of the room and down the stairs. The music was Christmas music, the classics that everyone would play. She peaked her head through the threshold to the living room and found Cillian sitting in the armchair before the fire, reading with his glasses on. There was a large flatscreen TV above the fire mantle. Near the bay window, there was a Christmas tree set up. No presents beneath it.

"Good morning." She said, her voice coming out rough. She cleared her throat.

Cillian looked up, "Oh morning." He said as he tucked in a bookmark and took off his glasses as he stood. "How did you sleep?"

"Really good. Cozy and warm. You?" She asked as she came over and sat down in the two-seater couch.

"Same as you. I haven't made breakfast yet as I don't know what you want today." He said as he sat back down.

"Well, I'm craving chicken soup. Mum would always make it for me when I was sick." She said.

"Hm, well I don't have it but I can run down to the store to buy some?" He offered.

"If you don't mind. I'll write down the ingredients." She said and he passed her his phone so she could jot down what she needed.

"That's it?" He looked at the list.

"Yeah. That's all. It's simple but super tasty." She smiled.

"Okay then, I'll be back soon." He said and touched her shoulder as he left.

She pulled the knitted throw around her and watched the fire, getting lost in her thoughts. She could hear the faint ringtone of her phone upstairs but didn't feel like getting it. But it kept ringing and she sighed as she got up to go check it.

Missed calls from Logan and Lucia and from her dad. "Fuck." She grumbled, she had to call her dad back. So she did and apologised to him that she didn't pick up last night and that she was tired and exhausted. But Lucia had told her dad about last night but in a twisted way. Gabrijela was drunk and had attacked Lucia when she was with some guy.

"So you would believe her rather than me?" She snapped at him. "How could you."

"I am getting your side of the story, Gabrijela." He said, his tone hard.

"Well, I didn't attack no one, Dad. She was being... she..." she choked on the words, "You know what she was doing with another man in a bathroom stall." She held back her tears that threatened to come.

"Gab..." His voice softened, "Did you love this man?"

Gabrijela thought about it, she had started to fall for Logan, "No." She shook her head, "But I was falling for him."

Her father had fallen silent but sighed, "Are you okay?"

"I'm dealing. I'll be fine." She shrugged, "Anyway, I gotta go." She said as she heard the door unlock and open. "Goodnight dad." She waved.

"Goodnight my blossom," He smiled and hung up.

She got up and headed down the stairs and went into the kitchen. It was entirely white with light brown beams that framed the window above the double basin sink. Countertops were made of white marble with pale grey cracks in it. It opened up to the dining room that leads out to a small deck and then flowed into the green garden.

The kitchen had a farm touch to it, "You have a really nice house, Cillian." She said.

"Thank you. I like the coziness of it. I'll take you upstairs after breakfast, you'll love it." He smiled as he set out the items. "So what should I do first?"

"I'll do it," She shakes her head, "You can admire me from afar." She came over and bumped her hip with his to nudge him out of the way.

"From afar? Why not close?" He cocked a brow perfectly.

"Close then, but I forbid you from helping." She pointed at him. "Where are the pots?"

He showed her and she got into it. The recipe was simple, but it wasn't going to be exactly like how her mum would make it. But it was better than nothing.

Soon enough they sat on the couch before the fire, bowls in their hands and they ate. A throw was covering their legs.

"This is so good. Better than what I made that first time." He said and tipped his head back to drink the soup.

"Nah, I think we are tied." She said doing the same before she set the bowl down on the table.

"You think so?" He looked at her, hooking his arm over the back of the couch, holding his head up with a hand.

"I do think so." She moved closer to him as she got comfy.

"Did you want to watch TV?" He asked as he watched her sigh and lay her head back.

"No. Not really." She shook her head, her expression changing.

He frowned a little before he took her hand, "I'm here for you, okay?"

She looked down at their held hands then met his blue eyes, tears lined her eyes, "I'm hurting, Cillian." She whispered as she moved into his arms, an arm over his stomach.

"Talk to me." His arms went around her, squeezing her gently.

"Last night... Logan threw a Christmas party and I brought along Lucia, my best friend cause she came to see me. You know the one you saw in that video chat all those months ago?"

"Yeah, I remember." He nodded. He had an idea of where this was going.

"So yeah, at the party, everything was going well but I had this weird feeling something wasn't right. And then I went to uh... I went to look for Logan and... In the bathroom... He... He was with Lucia... They-" She choked as tears began to fall again.

"Darling you don't need to say it. Hey, hey shhh." He wiped away her tears, cupping her cheek.

"They've been doing it behind my back for four months, Cillian." She sobbed, the emotions rushing through her, "I-I shouldn't have trusted him so fast. Fuck I made the wrong choice." She whispered burying her face in his neck.

His heart broke for her, it made him so upset to see her like this. How could anyone think to hurt someone as sweet and kind like her?

"Do not let this ruin you, Gabrijela." He murmured into her hair, "You don't deserve these tears. Not on this beautiful face." He pulled back to gaze into her eyes.

"The worst thing is the whole thing is so similar to how my ex ended up. God," she frowned and looked at the fire. "I shouldn't have trusted him. I thought he was better."

"Sometimes people can be cruel despite their pretty demeanour," Cillian muttered.

Gabrijela nodded and turned back to him, "But I know you are true and real." She sniffled as she touched his cheek. "You're a good man, Cillian. Truly."

He smiled, "And you are a wonderful woman, Gabrijela. I've never met someone so natural as you."

"Distract me today, Cillian." She whispered, a hand on his chest.

"I will try." He nodded, "Come, let me show you the third floor."

They got up and headed to the top.

She gasped, the whole floor was transformed into a mini library of some sort. The wall had shelves full of books, memorabilia of awards and all that. A fireplace took a spot between the bookshelves with some seriously comfy-looking couches.

"I've kept the majority of things from when I was younger, things from school or gifts and whatnot." He explained all the knick-knacks he had.

"Awesome." She was in absolute awe.

He had a guitar as well and a ukulele that hung on the wall. "You play the ukelele?" She asked as she came over and plucked it off the wall. She strung her fingers along it.

"Yeah. The main thing I bring when I go away." He watched how she became a whole new person. The pain in her eyes seemed to go away as she began to play a melody.

He was surprised, "You play?"

"I do. I know how to play the guitar and the cello, I'm an expert in both." She smiled.

"Why didn't you tell me this before? Just for fun or...?" He sat down as he listened to her play.

"Been in a band since I was sixteen. I play the electric guitar and also sing with Elijah who plays the bass guitar, Karsyn does the drums and Maya is on the keys and her partner plays the extra guitar. Lucia never really liked it but always tried to be apart of it... We had to kick her out cause she caused too many headaches for all of us." She said, finishing off her melody. "Elijah and I play the cello together, he's probably the next close friend of mine."

"What kind of genre you play?" Cillian asked.

She put the instrument back where she found it, "Anything really, we like to do covers and we have some of our own songs. We play every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night at this club in Sydney, Maya and her husband owns it and its very popular." She walked along the bookshelves, running her fingers along the many novels.

"Wow. And you kept this all from me!" He smiled, "I have to definitely come to Sydney and see you play."

She giggled and picked up a phot of when he was younger, "Not because you want to see me?"

"That too. I was twenty there." He got up and peered over her shoulder.

"Wow. Look at this young man. You haven't aged at all. Are you immortal?" She smirked up at him.

"Some say I'm aging like fine wine." He chuckled and she put the photo back.

"Oh, I can so agree on that." She patted his cheek.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked.

"Go ahead." She turned to him once more.

"Your birthday is coming up, do you have any plans on that day?"

She raised a brow, surprised he remembered it, "Uh, I mean I did but... with what happened... No. I'm free all day."

"Good. I've got something you will love to see." He grinned.

"Can I know?" She crossed her arms.

"Nope. It's a secret." He said.

She whined, "Ugh fine. What are you doing for the next day? It's Christmas."

"Flying back to Cork to spend three days with my family." He said.

"Oh... Really?" She had hoped she could spend the day with him. She couldn't hide her sadness in her tone.

"I got two tickets." He said, eyes trained on her.

"And?" She tilted her head to the side, confused as to why he told her that.

"You're coming with me." He laughed at the shock on her face.

"Cillian! I couldn't! No!" She hit him lightly.

"Yeah, you are coming with me. I want to show you my hometown. It's going to be fun." He took her arms gently, his smile soft.

She pouted, "You sure? I... Your family... wouldn't they think it's weird that you're bringing someone like me to their table...?"

"No. Of course not. They will love you. I only told them I'm bringing someone wonderful." His arms moved around her waist and she stepped closer, her hands on his biceps.

She giggled, "Oh Cillian," She smiled, only he could make her forget about her problems. She felt so at home in his arms, "I see that record player. Put something on and we can dance."

"Yeah? Alright." He pulled away and set the player up and picked out a good record. He placed it down and the needle before he pulled her back close.

They swayed together, body to body. Rain fell harder but everything seemed so magical. Her head was resting on his shoulder and she could feel the tickle of his breath on her neck.

"Cillian?" She murmured.

"Hm?" His hand was splayed on her back, between her shoulder blades.

"Please don't leave me." She said in a soft, shaky voice.

He pulled back to look at her, "I won't. Never."

"Promise me?" She sounded desperate as she gripped his biceps again.

"I promise," He cupped her face, "I'll always be with you."

She searched his face and leaned up to kiss him, but he pulled back, "Gabrijela, don't you think its to quick?" He asked, eyes wide.

"It's just a kiss. Cillian, please. Distract me." She whispered.

"Gab, we shouldn't, we really shouldn't. It's way too early, you're hurting." He frowned.

"Fuck it Cillian. Fuck it all. I need you. I need you. You are all I think about. All I need. Logan was a mistake. That time you touched me, that was what brought me to my knees. I cannot hold back Cillian." She had tears in her eyes.

He was shocked at her words, and yet he felt the same. The moment he touched her, kissed her, she was all in his head nonstop. "My Gabrijela. My lovely Gabrijela." He leaned in and kissed her, pouring his heart into it.

His hands moved from her face to her hips, her arms locking around his neck.

She was the one to deepen it, their tongues clashing and rolling over each other. A moan escaped her, and he began to walk her to the couch.

"No," she stopped him, "The bed." She said.

"Okay." He nodded and they headed down a flight, she held his hand as they entered the bedroom.

She backed up to the bed as he stalked forward, a heated look made him look like a bad boy. She smirked, "Since you touched me last time, it's only fair I return that favour."

He gripped her hips, pulling it flush against his. She moaned at the feeling, "You don't need to. My pleasure is seeing you cum by my fingers." He kissed her hard and she yanked off his shirt.

He took off hers and lifted her up and threw her on the bed, she let out a gasp as he moved on top of her like a cat. He kissed down to her neck, sucking on a spot and leaving a mark.

"Mmm." She shut her eyes as he moved lower, his lips wrapped around her nipple and she whined. Her nipples were always so sensitive when they were touched.

He sucked, tugging on them gently with his teeth which caused another moan to escape her. He then moved to the other, doing it rougher and it made Gabrijela cry out in pleasure.

"I'm going to taste you, Gab." He said roughly, his lips moving down her stomach. The feeling made a skittering feeling run through her, her core heating and throbbing.

"Yes." She sighed, nodding as her pants were thrown aside. She had no panties on.

Cillian came to the apex of her thighs and pulled back a little, her treasure was glistening and a pretty pink. She had waxed, leaving a tuft at the top. With a hand, he brought up he dragged a finger down from the hood to her entrance.

"Oh... God..." She sucked in a breath, looking down at what he was doing. Her cheeks were flushed, he was just... staring at her. "Am I okay? Cillian?"

He brought the finger up, then with his thumb, he parted her folds to reveal the petals of her core. "You are more than okay, Gabrijela. You are... serene." And he brought his mouth on her.

She threw back her head, eyes rolling in the back of her head as he worked on her with that fantastic mouth of his. He sucked on her clit, rolling the bud between his lips and teeth. He felt her hand on the back of his head, the other gripped the sheets.

"Oh fuck, Cillian. Fuck." She breathed fast, her toes curling as the sensations of getting head ran through her nerves. It was a wonderful feeling, the soft moist feeling of his lips peeling her apart and getting deeper. His tongue sweeping up then back down to her entrance where it prodded her.

"Relax, lovely. Relax for me." His hand were on her abdomen, feeling the fast-rising of her stomach. She relaxed as best as she could, and tried to stay relaxed as his tongue pushed into her.

He wiggled it around, tongue fucking her as he brought a thumb to her clit. He wanted her to feel the utmost pleasure he could give her with his mouth and hands.

So he ate her out like his personal feast, not being kind to her either. He held her squirming hips down as he was in full control of the situation, he would make sure all she remembered was his name as she came. He would imprint himself on her body, her soul. But when he was to take her... he would make sure it was a perfect day, all dedicated to her.

She was in utter ecstasy, all she could think of was him, of what he was doing to her. He knew where to get to, what to press as two fingers slipped into her.

He pulled back to watch how he fingered her, to see how she took him. "Fucking hell, Gabrijela." He rasped, she was drenching his fingers, his chin was coated in her wetness. "You going to cum soon?" He could feel how her walls clenched around him. He could only imagine how amazing if he was buried in her.

"Yes, Cillian. Oh god yes. Don't stop." She whined, her breathing ragged and deep. Moans and curses fell from her parted lips, she was close. "Harder, oh fuck!"

Cillian obliged and began to finger her harder, pushing in a third finger. God, she was tight. But he wasn't going to stop, he curled his fingers in a come hither motion and she cried out when he found her sweet spot once more.

"Cillian! Ah! I'm close! Fuck!" She bucked her hips, trying her best not to move too much around.

He went as hard as he could, he would bring her to the edge before he would finish her off with his tongue. And so he would, pulling his fingers out and tongue fucked her. Her cried grew louder as she thrust her hips up and hollered in bliss as she climaxed on his tongue and lips. She thrust a few times before she eased off as her high came down.

He lapped her up, sucking and licking her clean before he kissed up her body then to her lips. She moaned sweetly as she tasted herself on his lips.

"Mmm Cilly," She pulled back, touching his jaw and his lips. "Lay back baby, I want to touch you now." She kissed him.

"You don't-" He groaned when her hand gripped him.

"I do. You are so hard." She pushed him back and he eased on to his back as she now knelt beside him. "Cillian, oh goodness." She tugged on the strings of his sweatpants and eased them off with his help. Boxers and all.

Her eyes fell on his hard length, he was a good size and thickness. She could easily just ride him right there, lube was not needed as she was soaking.

Slowly she looked up, meeting his eyes, "Perfect." She murmured, not taking her eyes off as she wrapped her hand around. A muscle twitched in his cheek as his jaw was clenched hard. "Mmm, you feel good." She moaned as she rubbed him, holding him in a good tight grip.

"Ah... Ah, shit..." He whispered, holding himself up by his arms. "Gab..."

She smiled, happy that she was making him all huffy and blushing. She rubbed him faster, he was rock hard. "I'm gonna take you in my mouth," She moved between his legs, laying down on her stomach. She leaned in and licked his balls, sucking them and he let out a strange groan that was deep then a curse followed.

"Minx." He shook his head, watching her move up his shaft, sucking and kissing to the tip that had a little diamond drop.

She licked it before his cock was guided into her mouth, and he watched with pure amazement as she took him right to the base. "Fuck!" He placed a hand on the back of her head, gripping her hair.

She moaned, muffled by his cock before she began to bob her head. She took her time, savouring his velvet hardness with her tongue and lips, soft gagging sounds came from her every time he touched the back of her throat.

She was a goddess, she worked him so well, her sucking was slow and hard, almost pulling. It felt divine.

Gabrijela began to go faster, her hand moved to cup his balls once more and fondle them. She squeezed them and rolled them a little in her palm, he grunted, "That's it, oh fuck yeah. Gab you damn perfect woman."

She smiled a little as she continued to do her thing, and it wasn't long when he became fidgety as his cock twitched. He was going to cum very soon.

"Mmmm." She moaned around him, squeezing him again.

"I'm gonna cum. Fuck, in your mouth?" She nodded, "God you fucking- Fuck! Ah! Ah!" His brows furrowed and he laid back, his hips bucked and she gagged as he shot his load into her mouth.

She pulled back a little, he filled her mouth and he pulled her head back as the remaining went on her face and his stomach.

She gasped for air and laughed once she swallowed his load, "Cillian! Oh!" She bit her bottom lip as she pumped him once he was finished.

He looked at her, his release on her cheeks and lips, "Shit, sorry. He laughed as he handed her a tissue.

"No need." She wiped his cum off with a finger and cleaned them up with a smack of her lips. "Delicious." She giggled and leaned in, claiming his lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

He wrapped his arms around her as she laid on top of him, they kissed for a bit before she pulled back.

"Thank you," She murmured, her smile soft.

"What for?" He ran his fingers up her spine.

"For sticking with me and making me happy." She traced his jaw then his cheek and lips.

"I will do anything to make you smile again. It broke my heart to see you cry." He kissed her gently. "Don't cry ever again."

She scoffed lightly, "Don't break my heart then."

"I won't. Safe within my heart, tucked in warm." He kissed her nose as she laid her head down on his chest, her fingers running over the smooth skin of his biceps and shoulder.

"Safe." She whispered, her smile never fading.

"Safe." He repeated, his fingers gently running through her hair.

For the rest of the day, Cillian and Gabrijela spent their time indoors. They showered and shared another passionate kiss before they went to the living room downstairs to watch some classic Christmas movies. They ordered take away via UberEats and sat before the fire as they stuffed themselves with pizza and garlic bread and ice cream he had in the fridge.

They laughed from bad jokes and danced again, another movie before night fell. She was going to stay the night again, they got into bed and she had asked him to read her a favourite book of his to her.

He happily obliged, and read till she fell asleep. He set the book side and his glasses, turned off the light and pulled her into his chest. She slept peacefully, their legs tangled and he wasn't ever going to let her go.

Not this time he wasn't.

Whatever was blooming between them, it felt right. And he would work hard to keep her happy and content. He tried not to think about the whole age gap thing or that she was going to leave at the end of the month. He wouldn't.

He would cherish her, and see what the future would hold for them.

#cillian murphy #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #fanfiction

16 notes · View notes

twatkcox · 5 years ago

Text

[The Keihancarl Diaries: December 14, 2019]

Yup, I'm all set for a not-so-grand return to WordPress.com as I'll reopen my main blog very soon. In the meantime, the BGC-McKinley Hill trip comes first.

I've been considering wearing the knitted blazer that I've worn back in 2017, on a trip down south, but I decided on the black fleece coat instead. Aside from that, I decided to wear my red anime shirt and the AoT gloves that I haven’t worn since a couple of years ago. Yup, a red and black outfit that’s suitable for the holiday season.

At this time of the year, I'm expecting heavy traffic so I really need to leave the house early. After all, I really hate getting stressed thinking about wasting an hour or two on weekend traffic. But then again, I didn't have to rush. Anyway, traffic is light in most parts of Commonwealth Avenue and I managed to get to MRT North Avenue Station in less than an hour. I also managed to get inside the MRT just as it was about to leave the station. Of course, I didn’t forget to load up my Beep card first.

The MRT runs a little slower than usual since the rails are undergoing replacement. I had a hard time moving inside the jam-packed train, I can't even reach my bag for my handkerchief to wipe my sweat or my phone to take pictures. The train somehow decongested by the time it reached MRT Shaw Boulevard Station.

I got off at MRT Guadalupe Station and immediately head to the jeepney terminal beside the Guadalupe Commercial Center. I then took an e-jeepney to McKinley Hill, my first stop for this trip.

Getting off the e-jeepney, I saw a float being repainted. I believe this is one of the floats used in the Christmas parade at McKinley Hill.

Reaching there, I only checked a couple of shops and took numerous photos and selfies.

There were Venetian mimes (just figured that one out) inside the mall area. And yes, there were some Doraemon figures on the other side of the canal, as well as the mall lobby.

I then had an Xtra Long Chicken Sandwich at Burger King for lunch, which should be enough to keep me fueled for the next few hours.

I then took a jeepney to SM Aura but I got off a short distance away at the mall itself. I checked a few shops there, including a newly-opened Fully Booked branch located at the former Astroplus area. I also passed by ErgoHome at the third level and I'm still amazed at the space-saving storage solutions, especially the tatami one.

Moving on, it spotted a crowd of people at a sporting brand in the fourth level. Could it be the boxing legend/senator who is said to be the global ambassador for the sporting brand? I couldn’t even take a good look from where I’m standing.

And finally, I check the Skypark area and it looks like there are some circular swings installed in the landscaped area. I believe the swings are supposed to lit up at night, or so I thought.

And yeah, the Christmas tree at the upper ground level looks incredible. As well as the holiday decors at the mall, which resembles a clamshell and a fan.

Next stop, Market! Market!. I only checked a couple of second-hand bookshops there and bought a shojo manga in one of the bookshops as well.

Moving on to Bonifacio High Street, I checked the manga section at the largest (four-story) Fully Booked branch, their flagship store. There are some original Japanese manga books on the shelf, including Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Doraemon, Naruto, Haikyuu!, and more.

I noticed a significant reduction in the CDs being sold there. I can’t say the same for vinyl records and DVDs at this point, though.

There are some Plarail models for sale. They were quite pricey, though.

I also checked the discounted books at the ground level, but there’s not a single manga book to be found. I then took a look at some of the posters before checking the rest of BHS.

I actually saw some bazaars and food stalls in the BHS area. There's also an event in the One Bonifacio High Street area.

I checked a few shops in Central Bloc and One Bonifacio High Street malls.

I passed by the Burgos Circle area. I saw some joggers in the area.

I was about to head straight to the BGC Bus stop but I was extremely hungry at the moment. I then saw a couple of convenience stores: FamilyMart (Udenna Tower) and Lawson (Milestone at Fifth Avenue). I checked the offerings at FamilyMart first before moving to Lawson, where I had a pork katsu meal. Yup, a pork katsu with unlimited rice (which is actually two cups of rice) and barbecue sauce. The breaded katsu is quite tender, I can even cut it with a plastic spoon.

After that, I took a short bus ride to MRT Ayala Station. Luckily, I managed to catch a BGC Bus before the station temporarily transfers to the other side by 6:00 PM. There were only a few passengers inside the bus (just all of us from the bus stop) so I was able to sit down.

Reaching Ayala Center, I decided to check a few shops in the Glorietta and Greenbelt malls before taking the MRT to North Avenue. I just saw a bunch of awesome manga books at the Booksale branch in Greenbelt, especially the ones by Ken Akamatsu (Negima and A.I. Love You). Prior to that, I also saw other interesting manga books at their Market! Market! branch.

The real struggle begins here, at the busy MRT Ayala Station. Having spent 30 minutes on the platform, I finally managed to squeeze inside one of the jam-packed trains. I can even hardly move inside, for God's sake! I'm worried about my cap or my newly-bought (second-hand) manga getting squashed by some of the passengers. The train eventually decongested at MRT Cubao Station, and I can finally sit down and finish what I'm writing.

I decided to get off at MRT North Avenue station, partly because I find it difficult to catch a UV Express ride from Centris or Quezon Memorial Circle. I had to wait in line for more than 30 minutes before I finally get to board inside one of the UV Express vans.

As expected, traffic is mostly light in most parts of Commonwealth Avenue. The rest is moderate to heavy traffic, particularly in the North Fairview area. We did take a shortcut near Batasan (going to Regalado Avenue/FEU-NRMF area) to avoid the traffic. I got home at around 10:45 PM, which is quite unusual for me since I don't generally go home that late. Oh well, blame it on the MRT-3 and the long lines at the UV Express terminal…

It sure was an awesome day, probably except the last part. I get to have another e-jeepney ride, bought another manga, check out some interesting shops, and visit some great places (which are malls anyway). I could've bought the A.I. Love You manga books in that Booksale branch in Makati, but I really can't spend too much at the moment, not to mention that I don't have that much money to burn right now so I must control my urge to splurge. Kind of sad, really. Anyway, this trip somehow raised my spirits and keep me inspired throughout the day that's why I always do this. It’s a ritual.

So my next trip is either the North Avenue malls or the Makati (Rockwell/Circuit)-Binondo areas a.k.a. the Chinese New Year trip, which coincidentally falls on a Saturday. That's for January next year, as this is my last trip for this year. And yes, I'm looking forward to a cheerful Christmas and New Year celebrations ahead.

All pics are from my private Instagram account, @kcox105.

#city travel #mall-hopping trip #going places #Bonifacio Global City #McKinley Hill #Ayala Center Makati #Christmas

1 note · View note

septic-dr-schneep · 6 years ago

Text

JSE Commission - Stepping Stones

Summary: Commission for @luvstoriesatstoplights2. After a car accident robs him of his legs, his family and his joy, Chase copes through entries in his journal. Perhaps, with time and effort, he can heal through them too.

April 11th

Well…hey there, diary, it’s Chase Brody. That sounds stupid already, but I’m writing with this pen Jackieboy got me, so I can’t go back and fix it. Whatever.

Apparently having a diary or a journal is supposed to be therapeutic. If I need to clear my head, I can just write down whatever I’m thinking about here, put it all out where it’s private and I don’t have to worry about anyone else judging me for it. Jackieboy says it’s gonna help with my healing, but I don’t think he gets it. It’s my legs that need healing and writing here isn’t going to do anything about that. I’m trying it just so he’ll stop bringing it up.

So…I’m supposed to talk about what’s going on in my head. Honestly, it’s the same old stuff kicking up because I’m too depressed to put it all behind me. Yay, me!

I’m not feeling great.

I dreamt about it all again this morning—the same old dream about the crash. It woke me up before Schneep came in, but I tried to look like I was still sleeping. After dreaming all night about those paramedics dragging me out of the van, I didn’t really want his help. Pretty simple to understand. But if I’d let him go without getting me up, I’d have to just lie there and think about the dream for ages until he came back to try again. Who knows when that would be?

I wish it was just a dream, but every time I wake up and I try to turn over to get away from it, I can’t.

I just…

I wish Stacy was with me.

Anyway, Schneep was really gentle today—a lot nicer than yesterday, at least. To be fair, I know I wasn’t exactly cooperative when it came to the whole showering thing. They finally got it fully modified so I can roll in with the chair and Schneep’s been saying for a while that towel baths aren’t “efficient” enough.

He probably just wants me to start becoming more independent, which, yeah, is a good thing, but then he was telling me how much it cost to get it changed. Yeeeah, telling me how much trouble you’re going to for me really helps to boost the self-esteem, buddy. So I told him I was sorry if I took up too much of his precious budget; maybe it would’ve been cheaper if he’d let me try and crawl there. I think I startled him, but that didn’t last long. We got in a big fight about it and…well, let’s just say I never showered.

It wasn’t a good day for either of us. I know it was a misunderstanding and I know I hurt Schneep’s feelings with everything else I said, so I can’t really blame him for biting back. But now he’s being all quiet and tiptoeing around me and I feel bad for making him feel bad about it.

Wow. I guess I did have a lot on my mind.

***

April 23rd

Counseling sucks.

How do they expect me to sit there and talk about everything with this lady who’s walking around on her own two feet? And Marvin’s right there in the room watching! It’s not like I’m going to open up at all with him there, but I don’t want him to leave me alone with her either.

Basically I stalled and went around in circles as much as I could until we ran out of time. I’m pretty sure both of them knew what I was doing, but what’s weird is they didn’t try to stop me. Marv barely said a word at all, and the lady just kept asking questions in this really irritating “patient voice”. Does she practice that every morning? She’s got to, there’s no way she could grate on me that much without putting a lot of effort into it.

Counseling’s never done anything for me. Didn’t stop Stacy either, did it?

The shrink’s voice sounds like hers and I hate it.

***

April 30th

Talked to Schneep and Jackie and I’m trying a different counselor today. We’ll see how it goes.

***

May 17th

The kids finally convinced Stacy to let them call. I cried, I couldn’t help it. Why has she made them wait so long? I’ve missed so much! I HATE FEELING LIKE I’M NOT THERE FOR THEM!

I hate not being there for them.

Connor doesn’t like it at their new school. He says there are bullies, but Brianna’s been trying to stick up for him. Just about gave me a heart attack when she said she got hurt…No nine-year-old should be getting her arm broken at school to protect her brother. What are you thinking, Stacy? Their old school was the best one for them! Oh, but because it’s closer to me and you don’t want to be within a fifty-mile radius of a “burden”, you take them there? Great, awesome, mother of the year!

…Getting off track.

Bri said they decorated the cast to be really pretty. I keep imagining it like the armrests on my chair, with all the smiley faces and heart stickers they put on.

I miss them.

***

June 11th

I can’t do this anymore, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I CAN’T DO IT, I CAN’T DO IT, I CAN’T

WHY CAN’T I DO ANYTHING ON MY OWN?

I HATE MYSELF

I HATE BEING USELESS

I HATE NEEDING HELP

I HATE EVERYTHING

***

June 12th

Haven’t gotten out of bed. Marv came in to keep me company. I don’t deserve him. I’m pathetic.

He’s asleep now.

I wish I could fall asleep that easily. I wanna sleep without dreaming about it anymore. I close my eyes for one second and all I see is the bridge and the black ice. I hear the kids and Stacy screaming and crying and I can’t move. I can’t do a thing.

I’m tired.

***

July 10th

Showering’s gotten a little easier. Well, no, not easier, but I’m more used to it. Schneep’s pretty proud.

While I was waiting for the water to warm up and he was off getting a change of clothes for me, I turned myself around and tried a wheelie for a minute. That was…actually kinda fun, even if I ran into the counter like an idiot.

I miss doing stunts. I never actually put up a video explaining what happened; I haven’t even gone on to find out if the channel still has any subscribers. Should get to that sometime, just to see.

***

July 24th

Counseling was actually kinda nice today. It was good to get some things off my chest.

He asked if I still felt guilty for needing the others to help me.

It’s weird, but I’m not really sure. It’s just…life now.

***

August 15th

I can’t believe I’m actually considering this.

Marv took me somewhere a few days ago. Said he wanted to show me this amazing surprise and that he knew I’d love it, which is kind of ironic. I reminded him that it was his birthday, not mine, but he said this would be a gift to himself too, if we were lucky. What’s that supposed to mean?

He took me to this paralytic training center and there were a ton of people in wheelchairs there playing sports—swimming, tennis and basketball and volleyball, even horseback riding. I had no idea that was a thing! It was a surprise, that’s for sure. Marvin kept watching me to see my reaction. Yes, Marv, I noticed; you’re not exactly subtle.

I was…I don’t know, maybe a little mad at first. I thought it was his way of saying, “This is where you should be by now! Why haven’t you been making progress like they are?” But we kept watching it all happen and when our guide left us alone for a minute, he looked at me and…he was crying.

He hasn’t cried since the accident. Not that I’ve seen, at least. But before I could ask if he was okay, he asked me, “Is something like this what you might want someday?”

Like he was giving me a choice. I haven’t had a choice to make for myself in a while now, least not when it comes to the chair, so to think that I could somehow choose to end up like those people…To be asked if I wanted to…I’ll be honest, that scared me a little.

I’m still scared, cause…I think it might be.

I think I do want that.

I’m actually considering Bro Average again and it terrifies me.

***

August 22nd

I’m heading back to the studio. I’m probably insane.

***

September 9th

Got the last of the ramps secured today and I think I like them so far. I’ve been doing some more with the wheelies and planning a few different kinds of spins that I can practice.

The crew is pretty happy that I’ve been calling them again, and the others are excited! Well, Jackieboy and Marvin are. Schneep’s nervous, I can tell, but I just have to keep telling him that I want to go somewhere. I want to make myself good for something. Bro Average was the most fun I ever had and I want to have it again, even if it’s different.

Maybe if When I put out my first wheelchair video, Brianna and Connor could see it. <3

***

September 27th

Why does this have to be so HARD? “Oh, sure, I can do all these tricks and do something useful with my life!” That’s it, smart guy, go ahead and break your face and a camera while you’re trying to impress everyone! I’m supposed to know this stuff by now! I’ve been practicing it for weeks!

Why do I even bother setting goals? I’m just gonna fall short like I always do! Too many expectations for half a man, right, Stacy?

Why did I ever think I could do this again?

***

October 7th

It’s eating at me all the time. Everything I did wrong. I’m gonna try it again.

***

November 25th

I LANDED THREE HANDPLANTS! I LANDED THREE HANDPLANTS IN! A!! ROW!!! Tried to make it a fourth, but it didn’t work out. Jackieboy almost tried to help me when he saw me start skidding, but Marvin kept him back. Said I needed to take the hit and get back up, and I did. At least I didn’t cry like a baby this time, haha. Actually, I haven’t done that in a while. It’s felt pretty good <3

Anyway, the video’s coming out tomorrow and I just know everybody’s gonna flip out! I got a comment from Bri and Connor on the last one. I hope they get to watch this one too!

***

December 2nd

The doc brought up something today and it’s so weird…With everything I’ve been doing and planning and thinking about, I hadn’t noticed.

The nightmare’s gone.

I’ve been dreaming of better things.

#youtube #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #youtube fanfiction #writersofjack #commission #chase brody #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #dr schneeplestein #chase brody's family #alternate universe #angst #feels for days #eventual happy ending

133 notes · View notes

thebluejayawe · 6 years ago

Note

37 for 37+63 pretty please from the winter prompts

Here you go lovely :)

“Hey congrats man.”

Patrice blinks at Pasta. “Uh- Thanks? But for what?”

David just laughs. “I mean I figured it’d been going on for a while, but damn Bergy, how’d he talk you into coming out with a christmas card?”

Can also be read here.

The door to Patrice’s apartment nearly loses its hinges as Brad bursts his way through it, waving something in his hand and carry a backpack. “You’re helping me!” He yells from the kitchen.

Patrice just sighs from where he sits on the couch. On his TV screen he watches as a Mike evades the cops in the very first episode of Suits. “Hey Brad, come on in. How are you doing? Oh that’s good. I’m pretty great by the way, thanks for asking. No I’m not exhausted, why would you say that? Sure make yourself at him.” He says dryly, and rolls his shoulders back.

Marchy waltzes into the living room and drops himself onto the couch. He shoves a plate into Patrice’s lap and puts two glasses of water on the small coffee table. “Here, you should eat.”

“How do you know I haven’t already?” Bergy mumbles, even as he starts attempting to pick up the hastily made sandwich.

“Because it’s our off day and since you haven’t showered or shaved or gotten dressed yet despite it being three in the afternoon, so you probably didn’t eat breakfast until like ten. And you weren’t planning on eating again until like six.”

And, well- that’s fair, he supposes. (It’s not that he wasn’t planning on it, it’s just it’s off day, and he was so happy to stay on the couch in his pajamas and watch Suits from the beginning while napping intermittently. And the kitchen is far away and he was comfortable. Sue him.)

“Wat’ev’r.” He mumbles around a mouthful, watching as Brad pulls a laptop out of his bad and starts fiddling with the thing. “What are we doing? Did something happen?” It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’s been kept out of the loop of some major development in hockey. A lot can happen in a few hours. He eyes his phone warily, but the device remains unaffected where it sits on the side table.

Marchy just waves his hand. He takes another bite of his sandwich and leans forward to watch the screen over Brads shoulder. He makes a surprised noise when his liney pulls up some website for pictures. Or something. Cards?

“What are we-”

“Me and you.” Brad smiles at him, that wide cheeky one that has Patrice eyeing him suspiciously.

“Me and you.” He repeats skeptically, then feels his eyes widen when Brad clicks the mouse a few times and pulls up a new page. “Absolutely not.” He shakes his head vehemently. “No chance.”

Marchy pouts. “Oh come on Bergy!!! This is perfect! You hate doing Christmas cards, I hate doing Christmas cards, both our moms will murder us if we don’t send them out. This is the best solution. Me and you sit our asses down and knock out one universal Christmas card, order some chinese food, and then we’re done.”

Patrice opens his mouth to protest and then closes it again.

It’s not…the worst argument. Plus he’ll get to spend the day with Brad, which is much better than being alone. Or being with most other people. Really Brad is like…his favorite person at the moment.

Who is he kidding. Brad’s been his favorite person to hang out with for years now. It’s kinda how the best friends thing goes.

“God damn it.” He mutters, and Marchy lights up.

“Awesome!” He drops the laptop down and vaults over the back of the couch and runs to Patrice’s junk room. “Where do you keep all your pictures?”

Bergy just stares down at his half eaten sandwich and tries to ignore how hard he’s smiling.

……

His mom texts him in December, and he calls her back despite the fact that he’s about to get on a plane.

“Hey Mom.”

“Patrice! I’m so proud of you honey!” He feels himself smile wryly at himself, and switches to french to answer.

“So you got the card?”

“Of course! I knew it would only take a few dozen years of threatening to castrate you before you’d get it through your head.”

He sighs. The bus is slowing to a stop. “Only a dozen. But um…what did you mean? In your text.”

His mom huffs impatiently like she does when she thinks Patrice should understand something he doesn’t. “I thought it was pretty clear, Patrice. Make sure we get to see Brad this year! I’ve missed that boy.”

“Mom you’ve met him once, and for like five minutes-”

“Four times, actually.”

Patrice sits forward in his seat. “Have you been counting?!” He cries, then looks around quickly. Luckily the guys are just standing and grabbing their shit, not paying attention to him. “I’ve got to go. I’ll ask him alright? But don’t get your hopes up. He’s probably gonna spend the holidays with his family.”

His mom just laughs, which, what does that mean mom, but he really does have to go, so they exchange ‘i love you’s and he hangs up.

Brad sidles up to him as they walk to the plane and nods to his phone, which Patrice is still staring at with a confused expression. “What was that about?” He asks.

“Nothing. Just my mom.”

Marchy’s brow furrows, worry flashing across his face. Patrice pretends to not notice his heart thumping happily at the concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He assures, way to quickly. “Everything’s fine.”

…….

Everything is not fine.

It’s very, very not fine. The problem is that he doesn’t know, exactly, why it is not fine. He doesn’t even know what it is, really, just that people are acting really weird.

Example: he’s on a short roadie, which, cool whatever hockey. But in the two days they’re gone, he’s gotten a text from almost everyone in his family and several of his friends, all of which tell him they’re happy for him, or that they can’t wait to see him, or some variation of support. This includes a weird snapchat from Seggy, which - okay, he can’t decipher Tyler’s snaps on a good day, but this one is particularly confusing. Something about…losing a bet? Who knows, there was a lot of yelling and loud music in the background.

Whatever. Apparently Jamie is mad at him. Or something.

He doesn’t text anyone back anything other than some ‘thank you’s and a few ‘yeah you too’s and a question mark to Segs. He doesn’t ask anyone “what the fuck are you talking about”, because honestly what does that say about him? Clearly it’s not a bad thing, he just doesn’t know what they’re talking about.

It’s disconcerting. Worrying too. But not as worrying as how Brad suddenly just ditches him the entire trip. He knows it’s only two days, but still, they usually hang out at night on roadies.

He gets no text on his phone and no knock on his door and no apology or explanation the next day.

“What the fuck is going on.” He groans as he drops down into his seat next to Rask after a shootout win against the ducks. A game that involved nearly zero talk between him and Marchy.

Tuuks just keeps looking at his phone, but chimes in with an emotionless “Mood.”

“Why am I friends with you?” He groans. Tukka just shrugs.

“Your choice man.”

“Shut up.”

……..

“Hey Patrice can I talk to you for a sec?”

He lifts his head up, and then tilts it back some more. Sitting on the floor stretching out and looking up at Chara is a…long distance to look. The soft spoken captain actually looks worried.

Oh wonderful.

“Yeah, sure Z.” He mumbles, and folds his legs under him. He takes Chara’s offered hand and pulls himself up. Together they walk into the back hall that’s behind the gym. None of the guys are there. It’s quiet.

He swallows thickly and takes a deep breath.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks quietly, staring at the floor until he realizes that this is Z, for crying out loud. Not only does he demand respect as a captain, but he also helped give Patrice the A. He should be able to look him in the eyes, so he tries his best to bring his gaze upward.

Chara isn’t angry though, he’s…concerned? Or- something else. He almost looks sad.

“No, of course not.” Z’s quiet voice used to unnerve him, except it’s almost always the same level of calm, so he got used to it. Now though, he’s talking like he’s afraid of spooking Patrice. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

He blinks. “What?”

His captains eyes dart to the ground for a second and it clicks.

Nervous. Chara is nervous.

What the hell.

“If I ever made you feel like it was wrong, or if anyone on the team ever did, I apologize.” He smiles, and it’s hesitant. “I am happy for you though. It’s great to see you happy, you know.”

“I- um, I’m sorry, did you- are we- what’s-” A door opening behind them cuts off his stammering and has Patrice nearly jumping out of his skin. It’s just one of the staff, but Chara backs up and smiles again, not really strained this time, but still hesitant.

“We can talk more later.” He says, and then disappears around the corner.

Patrice stares after him. Now alone in the hallway, he pushes both hands through his hair.

“What the fuck is going on?” He whisper yells. The hall just echoes his voice back at him, cold and empty and answerless.

…..

The final straw is after the game. They got home from the roadie last last night, and then had to play again, and now it’s almost eleven. They worked hard but lost to the bolts anyway, and the locker room is subdued. Disappointed and tired, there isn’t much normal activity going around, and after media it doesn’t really get any better. Coach talks to them and dismisses them to get some rest, and that’s when Pasta drops down into the stall next to him.

“I’m sorry.”

Bergy rolls his eyes. “What is it with everyone apologizing to me? What the fuck did you all do that was so bad?”

Pasta’s eyes widen and Patrice instantly feels bad.

“I was- the turnover in the third.” He clarifies, and Bergy closes his eyes and pinches his nose. He starts to apologize but David just waves him off and shoots him a sympathetic look.

“It wasn’t your fault anyway. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to. You look…stressed.”

“Gee thanks.” He mumbles, tugging at his socks.

“Hey congrats by the way.”

Patrice blinks at Pasta. Some slightly hysterical part of him wants to wail ‘please god not you too Pasta’. Instead he grits his teeth and decides to ask, because if Pasta is fucking with him then he’s definitely gonna know. “Uh- Thanks? But for what?”

David just laughs. “I mean I figured it’d been going on for a while, but damn Bergy, how’d he talk you into coming out with a Christmas card?”

“He bribed me with Chinese.” His responds, relaxing for a few seconds. Pasta takes it in stride, nodding like that makes sense, and even gets all the way back to his own stall before it registers in Patrice’s brain what he actually said.

‘...coming out with a Christmas card…’

He stares at his hands, frozen.

Coming out.

The fucking christmas card. He and Brad- and what the fuck does that mean, ‘I figured it’d been going on for a while’?!?!

He lifts his gaze to scan the locker room, searching out one particular face,and- yep. There’s Marchy, staring at him with wide eyes and a distraught expression. His team is moving around the locker room without a care, yelling at each other and throwing gear everywhere and arguing about the stupidest things. Normal locker room stuff.

Marchy bites his lip and drops his gaze suddenly, and that’s how Patrice realizes he’s still mostly in his hockey shit while Brad is tying the laces on his dress shoes, ready to go home.

“Oh.” He croaks. “Oh fuck.”

……..

He gives exactly three fucks about how late at night it is, and all of them disappear when Marchand fails to answer his phone. All five times he calls him.

‘I’m standing outside your door, asshole. Open the fuck up before i wake up every single one of your neighbors.’ He texts angrily. When nothing is given in return except for a ‘Read, 12:02 AM’ underneath the text bubble, he doesn’t hesitate in repeatedly slamming his fist into the plain apartment door. There’s a loud crash from inside, and he keeps ‘knocking’ until there’s someone scrambling behind the door and suddenly Brad is there yanking the door open so fast that Patrice almost hits him in the face with his hand.

He doesn’t bother with whatever words they might’ve exchanged, he just barges right into the apartment keeping his shoes on because he’s too worked up to be polite. He hears the door shut behind him, and he runs a hand through his hair.

“What the hell Patrice?! You can’t just-”

“No! No you don’t get to yell at me for this.” He whirls around and he’s so, so angry but he’s also hurt. He’s covering for it, stretching the little bit of anger and betrayal he felt when he met Brad’s eyes in the locker room. “You knew! You knew what was going on and instead of growing a pair and talking to me you avoided me for three fucking days!”

Marchy looks like he’s caught between pissed and guilty. “I didn’t want you to be angry okay?!”

“Too fucking late!” Patrice yells back. “You realize that I had an entire conversation with my mom right? She thinks we’re together. My entire family has apparently always known I’ve been gay, Z thinks he failed as a captain because we didn’t tell him earlier, fucking- even Tuukka called me after the game, because he thought someone did something to make us want to stay hidden and he was about to murder. Jesus christ Marchand! I had to find out from Pasta that everyone thought we were together, and those fucking cards were us announcing it!”

He watches Brad’s eyes narrow and something else flashes across his face, to quick for Patrice to identify. “Is the thought of us together really that disgusting to you?”

“That’s not why I’m angry, what the fuck?”

Brad crosses his arms. “Seems like it is.”

“I’m pissed because you knew, and you knew that I didn’t but you still said nothing.” He snarls. His chest is heaving and his throat is raw and he hates this. He doesn’t even know why it hurts so much that Brad didn’t tell him. He can blame it on humiliation - which he does, continuing with “I look like an idiot now you realize that right? How am I supposed to tell everyone we aren’t together when I never denied it outright?”

-but it’s not the truth.

It does hurt getting kept in the dark. It stings even more that it’s Brad who let it happen, but what really punches him in the chest is knowing that they aren’t together. That he’ll have to make those phone calls and have awkward conversations when he could be smiling with Brad by his side. The idea of them together doesn’t piss him off - it’s that fact that them together is only an idea, not a reality. He has to deal with the repercussions of an idea, when he should be planning out the future.

Marchy opens his mouth, closes it, then growls “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier” out through his teeth. Bergy steps back, his anger suddenly spent. He sits on the arm of the couch and buries his hands in his hair, head bowed.

“God this is so fucked up.” He whispers, and forces himself to straighten. Looking at Brad he can see what he didn’t before - the exhaustion painted on his figure, the way he’s holding himself like he needs comfort that he can’t get, he pain in his eyes as he stares at Bergy.

And then a few things click.

“Marchy.” He says lowly, looking at the hardwood floor in front of his feet. “How long did you know?”

Marchands eyes instantly move from his face to the wall, then to the coffee table and then they settle on the windows. “I-”

“How long?”

He swallows. “Since- before we left. My mom must’ve gotten hers pretty fast I guess. But…I- I had looked at them before we ordered them, and I thought…well maybe.”

Patrice stands slowly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat so he can ignore the way they’re shaking. “You thought people might think we were together, and you sent them anyway?”

Brad looks like he’s about to cry now, but at least he’s looking at Patrice again. “Yeah.” He whispers. He takes a breath, even steps forward, halfheartedly reaches out a hand for him. “I’m- I’m so sorry Patrice, I didn’t want to- I just- it was a spur of the moment thing and I didn’t really think it would explode like it did.”

Marchy is close enough now that there’s barely a few feet between them. If Patrice reaches forward he could touch his arm. “You live your life in spur of the moment decisions.” He murmurs. “Never thought I’d hear you apologize for one.”

“This one hurt you.” Brad says, painfully real. “You deserve an apology for that.”

Patrice shakes his head. “God you really don’t know do you?” Marchy only blinks up at him. “Everyone I talked to on the team dropped some sort of inclination like they knew we had been dating for a while. I think part of the reason I didn’t deny them is because…I wanted that. This hurt me because it wasn’t true, Marchy. I was getting congratulation texts for something I hadn’t won. The idea of us doesn’t disgust me, it makes me happy, but what hurt the most was knowing I’d never ever have you. I’d have to tell everyone the thing I wanted the most wasn’t real.”

He looks down at his shoes and shakes his head. “I don’t- I don’t know if that’s what you wanted, but I-”

He’s cut off by arms grabbing his arms and pushing him backwards into the wall, his back hitting it with a soft thump. A noise of protest might come from him, he’s not sure, because his brain short circuits shortly after that.

Brads lips crash against his and Patrice melts.

His lips are chapped and he tastes like that stupid mint gum he always chews after games and he’s kissing him.

It’s sloppy at first, and the force of Brad kissing means their noses are squished together for a second, but Patrice gets with the program pretty quickly. He takes control of the kiss, one hand cupping Brads face to slow him down, the other in his hair to encourage him. He tilts his head down and Brads up, and his skin sings with feeling, nerve endings coming alive with excitement.

When they finally break apart it’s for necessity of air. Patrice has to stop Brad from rushing back in, even though it physically pains him to do so. “Wait.” He gasps, and Marchy makes a noise that sends a shiver down his back.

“Okay.” Brad whispers, and Patrice nods, “Okay-” and they’re kissing again, and again, and he actually has to tear his lips from Brad’s to get more air and try and clear his head.

“Wait- wait a second okay, just a second.” He laughs when Brad huffs in disappointment. “I assume we’re on the same page here right? Like- we’re trying this. Together?”

Marchy nods so fast his head nearly falls off. “Yeah. Yes. I mean- if you want, because I definitely want.”

He laughs again and kisses him, short and sweet. “I think I got that.” He murmurs against his lips, hands rising to rest at Marchy’s side. “Have to thank you though.” He says through a grin.

Brad pulls back, surprised and says “What, why?” then rolls his eyes at himself.

Patrice rolls his eyes back. “Well, while you did put me in a lot of awkward situations, you also sorta just saved me from those situations, so…”

His excited laughter echoes in the apartment, fading quietly as they make their way to the bedroom. The door to the bedroom quietly, gently, clicks shut behind them.

Bonus:

Patrice calls his mom back two days later. He had to have a long conversation with Z and then with Coach and then with Z and Coach, but he did it all with Marchy by his side. They’re good now. They’ve been good, for such a long time now, and Patrice feels like he just never noticed until now.

As in, right now, with Marchy tucked into his side on the couch while some random cooking show plays. It’s snowing outside and the world hasn’t ended despite being out to his team about being in a same sex relationship in the least inclusive major professional sport. Christmas is in a week and he gets to call his mom to say that she was right.

“Yeah mom. Yeah I know. No, he called his family already. Well he wasn’t going anywhere originally- yeah we got the tickets. Yes. Yes, jesus christ, I- sorry.” He smiles down at the sleeping body next to him and has to suppress an honest to god giggle when Brad mumbles some nonsense about carrots and the Flyers. “He’s coming home with me.”

#writing #mine #rpf #hockey #bergy/marchy #patrice bergeron #brad marchand #prompt fill #ask #answered

15 notes · View notes

buildarocketboys · 6 years ago

Text

Books read in 2018

It's been a pretty good year for reading for me, and I actually kept a list of all the books I read, so I thought I'd make a list and write a mini review about each one. I've read 22 (and a half) books this year in full - this doesn't include any that I just started, or have read bits of.

1. When The Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore

Magical realism + gay and trans characters! Pretty great although I wouldn't necessarily read it again. Mostly read in lunchtimes at work.

2-4. LOTR trilogy by J R R Tolkien (started somewhere between 17 and 29 March) (first book finished 4 April) (finished 30 May)

Dates on this one as I spent most of the first half of the year reading the Lord of the Rings. The Fellowship of the Ring was almost certainly my favourite, got a bit bored towards end of Two Towers/start of Return of the King, and the long descriptions and battles (and long descriptions OF battles) are something I generally prefer to do without. But they're really good books with a lot of cool (and gay!) stuff in them, and though the films don't include everything from them, they're pretty damn good adaptations. (I only wish the films had kept Beregond).

5. The Inescapable Logic of My Life by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

By the author of Aristotle and Dante, I actually can't remember much of this book, I remember it being pretty good though. It may have made me cry?

6. Cloudbusting by Malorie Blackman (REREAD)

Easily the shortest book here, this book used to make me cry. It's a simple story told through different types of poetry, but it's so beautifully done. Didn't make me cry this time sadly, but still good. Read it sitting by the river taking a break from working on a job application.

7. Nation by Terry Pratchett (REREAD)

I reread this pretty much every year (I found myself a few weeks back wanting to reread it again) and it's brilliant every time, enough said. Think this is the only Pratchett novel I've read this year, which is a shame. Thoroughly recommend it though, even though it's not part of Discworld.

8. And The Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini

Bought this from a stall in Bristol, at the time it was the only one of his I hadn't read. It was one of those novels I just ploughed through, really quickly. Really good, really sad (and a gay character where you least expected it).

9. Wicked by Gregory Maguire

Borrowed this from my girlfriend after having seen the musical in May. The book is...really weird, but really good. A lot more of an obvious dystopia than the musical is, right from the get go pretty much and Elphaba is an icon - grumpy, traumatised, irritable, angry, hopeful, guilty, revolutionary. I love her. Oh, and her and Glinda are still really gay.

10. Harry and the Wrinklies by Alan Temperley (REREAD)

Now we come to the books I reread in August when I had some time off work. Harry gets orphaned and is sent to live with his elderly relatives and their elderly friends (hence the title). Little does he know, they're all ex-cons and pretty much modern day Robin Hoods. Also, badass. Still a great book, even if it's technically for kids. I need to reread the sequels sometime.

11. Maximum Ride by James Patterson (REREAD)

Edgy as fuck but I still kind of love it. Ngl the younger kids and Iggy are a lot more fun than Max and Fang though.

12. The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger (REREAD)

This one I reread every couple of years or so. One of my favourites, the way the non-chronological (by design and necessity) plots works so well, in both building and retaining suspense, the prose is beautiful (if a little pretentious at times), the characters are...mostly kind of dicks, but in a real, multifaceted kind of way. I kind of love all the references to various books/authors/bands, even if it is kind of pretentious. I discovered Rilke through this book. Jeder Engel ist schrecklich.

13. Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli

Read this a little while after seeing the film. Obviously they changed a fair amount, but I love them both. Really easy to read in about a day.

14. Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli

Read this on the same weekend as Simon. Loved it a LOT. I relate to both Leah and Abby a whole lot and it just felt so real to the experience of being a (bi) teenage girl. Wish there'd been a bit more to the ending maybe? But maybe that's just me being greedy. Still trying to persuade @judasisgayriot to read it. This might well be my book of the year.

15. Vox by Christina Dalcher

After I finished Leah on the Offbeat I was looking for something else to read. Picked this up in Waterstones because it sounded like an interesting concept for a dystopia (women are only allowed to say 100 words a day - if they say more, they get electrocuted by a bracelet attached to their wrist). The main character is white, straight and middle class, so that's definitely the majority of the experience we get to see, but there is some examination of being gay and/or a poc in this dystopian culture. Overall an interesting examination on how language can be used as a weapon, and to control people. A Handmaid's Tale with a difference and (spoiler!) a happy ending.

16. The Upside of Unrequited by Becky Albertalli

I didn't get/read this one at the same time as Leah and Simon because I was put off by how het it sounded, lol. The main character is straight (afaik) but it's still a pretty great book and she's pretty relatable.

17. My Mum Tracy Beaker by Jacqueline Wilson

Tracy Beaker all grown up! As told through the eyes of her (much quieter and less troublesome) daughter. Pretty great and interesting to see Tracy all grown up but still very much Tracy. Lots of drama and Justine Littlewood ruining everything as usual. Complete with an implausible happy ending (but it's great anyway, and tbh we all need those sometimes). Also, Cam is a #confirmed lesbian.

18. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak (REREAD)

I'm not sure how many times I've reread The Book Thief now, but it must have been at least ten. I reread it at least every year but often it's been more than that. Still amazing, obviously, but I dunno, I didn't feel as into it this time? I didn't cry (for the first time ever!) while reading it, although that might have been because I read it at work. Mostly I was reading it to prepare for Zusak's new book, which I got for Christmas.

19. Holes by Louis Sachar (REREAD)

First time I've reread this since high school, and it's still brilliant. 'Nuff said.

20. The Bi-ble: An Anthology of Personal Narratives and Essays about Bisexuality edited by Lauren Nickodemus and Ellen Desmond

Bought this from Gay's The Word when I was in London back in May, only got round to reading it in December. Some really good stuff in here, I related hard to a lot of it (and not so much to other parts). Recommended reading for anyone who's bi or wants to understand more about bisexuality.

21. Call of the Wild by Guy Grieve

I picked this up on a whim from my pile of unread books because I wanted something to read before I got new books for Christmas. (Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, I only finished it on Boxing Day). Really interesting, I'm so fascinated by life in very cold, harsh, unforgiving places (only partly because of the wolves) and this was a really interesting true story of how a guy (called Guy) from Scotland manages to build his own cabin and live out in the wild of the Alaskan Interior through the Winter.

22. Combat Magicks by Steve Cole

A Doctor Who novel (the first of three I got for Christmas!) and the last book I read in its entirety in 2018. At the site of a battle between the Romans and the Huns (which is why I chose it first, sounded really cool), so-called "witches" manipulate everything both sides do. Surprise! They're aliens. The Doctor calls Yaz her bestie a lot and it's adorable. Ryan gets a girlfriend who stans the Doctor (she's basically part of Roman Torchwood and she's awesome). Graham has a bath with a witch (well, nearly).

Currently reading:

Eat Up! by Ruby Tandoh

I'm about half way through this, so it doesn't quite count as a book I read in 2018, but I thought I should include it. Anti-diet culture, embracing food for what it is, everything it is, while examining the different things (gender, race, class) that affect our relationship with food.

#books #bookblr #Read in 2018 #long post

10 notes · View notes

annak47hq · 6 years ago

Text

what happens in vegas’ anam

who: adam levine and anna kendrick @alcvinehf

what: adam and anna go to vegas for adams annual new years eve show, after a show they go out to a casino however anna ends up getting morning sickness and adam ends up being there for her

where: a casino in vegas

when: december 31st, 2018 (sometime at night)

trigger warnings: none

Anna: It was New Years, she and Adam were in Vegas of all places. He finally got her to go, even though she was pregnant Anna still went. She wasn’t showing yet, just still starting to get used to the symptoms and mood swings and cravings. It hasn’t even been two weeks and anna was getting nervous but excited for this journey she was about to take on. While wearing a babydoll dress, Anna had her hair half up and half down. They were in the casinos and Adam was of course at a table playing some poker game while Anna was sitting there, cheering him on. A waitress walked by and the smell of shrimp and sauce hit Anna’s stomach and she felt herself go pale as a ghost. Taking a few breaths, she looked at Adam and chewed her lips “I um.., Adam I’ll be right back. I don’t.., I’m not feeling good.” Was all she can say, and took a sip of the water bottle she had in her hand, and pushed her hair out of her face.

Adam: New Years. It was the one time of year that Adam really looked forward to other than his birthday and Christmas, considering this had been a tradition of the band’s for over five years now. Since he and Anna had been dating, he had told his girlfriend stories about Vegas for New Years, and when she had agreed to go, he was excited. She was pregnant and he just wanted to make sure that she had been taken care of and if that meant staying at home, he would have been fine with it, but he was excited that she was there for him and to see the band perform like they usually would. When they were finished performing though and still had a little bit of time to go before the ball dropped to ring in the new year, they had gone to the casinos and Adam was doing well at winning his hands of poker and blackjack. As they sat at a poker table though and he looked over at Anna. He was winning, up big, and could barely hear her. “You alright?” He asks.

Anna: Knew how excited Adam was to be back in Vegas, and she was happy and proud of how his performance, turned out tonight with the band. This was a new tradition, a new one that Anna didn’t mind starting, joining in on the bands trip to Vegas. With Adam sitting their, and watching him with a hand of blackjack the brunette just smiled. It was taking her a while to get used to the fact that she was pregnant, and that she morning sickness came along with it. Thats the thing though, it should only come in the morning but not with Anna. It came at night, at random hours and right now it was about to come. Shaking her head, Anna closed her eyes and rested her headed in her arms “No. I’ll be right back.” Getting up from the chair, Anna ran quickly to the bathroom and opened a stall.

Adam: A frown settles in on Adam’s face when he looks over to Anna and realizes that she had gone completely pale, assuming that something hadn’t settled right and well with her stomach and the way that she was trying to begin to get used to being pregnant. He was conflicted as he even looked back down at his hand of cards. If he stayed where he was, he would have won the whole game and cashed out with as much money that he had in his pockets when they even walked into the casino to begin with. However, Anna wasn’t there with him now and he’d feel terrible if he chose a poker game over his now pregnant girlfriend. Letting out a heavy breath, Adam put the cards down and chuckled towards everyone around him. “I’m sorry guys. Gotta now out.” He finishes the cup of ginger ale that he had sitting next to his cards on the table, and then makes his way to the bathroom in the back of the casino to find Anna. Walking in, the frown is still settled in on his face. “Anna? Babe…”

Anna: She wasn’t used to this yet, the morning sickness. Anna wasn’t sure if she was ever going to get used to it, Adam had told her it was supposed to last up to four months and Anna wasn’t ready for that but she figured she might as well be. Not wanting to ruin Adam’s night, the brunette rested her head on the rim of the disgusting public bathroom toilet and Anna continued to through up. Trying to catch her breath, and settle down a bit the women closed here eyes but then looked at Adam when she saw him walking in “Hi. I’m sorry.”

Adam: “Baby, don’t be sorry.” His frown deepens as he looks at her, and then he shakes his head when he realizes how sick that she looks from what he could only assume was from throwing up. Letting out a sigh, he walks forward and then extends his hand for her to take. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and go back to the room. Nothing beats watching the ball drop in pajamas with room service.”

Anna: Shaking her head, Anna chewed her lips and then cleared her throat. “I don’t understand what the whole point of throwing up for four months is. I don’t get it, what the hell does throw up have to do with being pregnant?” She questioned, and then shook her head again but then looked at Adam while trying to get up “Baby, you’re here with the guys. You’re having fun. I’ll be fine. I just need crackers or something, we’ll watch the ball drop like you normally do while you’re here. I was looking forward to that.” Anna said, and then walked over to the sink, and turned it on. She cupped her hand and splashed water in her mouth, and cleaned herself up a little “I’m fine.”

Adam: “Our baby is violently kicking your organs around.” He tries to tease, keep the mood light before a small chuckle falls from his lips and he shakes his head. “No, hey—Listen. Don’t worry about it, okay? I walked from the table, they’ll stay here and catch back up for me.” He follows her to the sink and stands behind her for a moment, his arms gently wrapping around her from the back. “You sure you don’t wanna go back to the room?”

Anna: Letting out a moan, Anna closed her eyes and felt herself turn a bit pale again “mm, stop talking.” Was all she could say, it felt weird hearing Adam say there was a human being kicking her organs around and Anna wasn’t sure how to feel about it just yet. Sure, she was excited and happy but she was also nervous and scared. “So that’s what’s making me throw up, is the kid kicking my organs?” Anna questioned, but then shook her head and pulled her hair back into a low ponytail “Maybe.., maybe we should go back to the room” The brunette leaned back int him and closed her eyes, holding onto his arms

Adam: “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sick again. Please don’t throw up on me.” He kisses the side of her neck gently. “Well yeah, it’s a developing baby. It’s gonna take a little bit.” Nodding his hand, he runs his hand gently over her stomach. “We can go back, babe. I don’t have a problem with that. Whatever you want to do.”

Anna: Smiling a bit as he leans in to kiss the side of her neck, Anna laughs a little but then uses her free hand to rub his cheek “What the hell did you do to m..” She said joking, and then closed her eyes again as he runs his hand over her stomach. “That’s our baby..” Anna whispered, and took a few moments to let it sink in that she’s actually pregnant. “Can we go back, please?” She questioned him

Adam: “I finally put a baby in you, that’s what I did to you.” He teases, letting out a laugh now as he gently runs a hand through Anna’s hair and then nods his head as he kisses her forehead gently. “Mhm…that /is/ our baby. Just wait until we can finally start feeling he or she kick, and how /awesome/ that is.” He lets out a small laugh, then nods his head. “The idea of watching the ball drop while in pajamas with room service get into your head? I’m good, aren’t I?”

Anna: “mm, that you did indeed.” Anna said, chewing her lips a bit and then kissed him softly. Closing her eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair, the brunette took a breath and smiled softly, clearing her throat “Why do I have a feeling that it’s going to hurt when she starts to kick?” Anna questioned, and then looks at him “It sounds so much more relaxing, let’s do that idea instead babe, please?” She pleaded

Adam: “You have that feeling because it’s your first baby and you aren’t going to know what to do.” Adam says, letting out a small laugh as he kisses her back. After his lips left hers and he broke away a little bit, his lips then move up to her forehead, kissing her there before kissing the top of her hair too. “Mmhm, doesn’t it?” He teases, nodding his head as he takes her hand within his own, lacing their fingers together as he makes his way to the door with her following behind him. “Yeah.” He says, softly. “Let’s go.”

&FINISHED

#/*paragraphs*/#/*please don't ever become a stranger: adam levine*/#/*nobody baby but you and me: adam levine*/#/*adam levine*/#{chatzys}#{chatzy: 19}

2 notes · View notes

ritacaroline · 7 years ago

Text

In The Light Jimmy Page Fan Fiction Part 9

Part 9 Fiesta Night

Takes place : Sunday, December 4th, 1977

They arrived at the restaurant and put their coats at the desk. Robert waved to them from the table. It was a pretty large group, including Robert and his girlfriend Linda, Bonzo (John Henry) and Clare, John Paul and Maureen, Peter Grant and a few others. Clare was really happy to see Jill again and said loudly, “Jill, come sit by me !” They all said hi to Jim and Jill and some folks shook Jimmy’s hand, some got up and gave Jill a little hug.

The two seats next to Clare were open and she sat next to Clare. Jim sat on the other side of Jill, to her left. Clare put her arms around Jill and said, “It’s so good to see you again !” and they hugged. The two women had a connection between them and Jill was so glad she was being accepted so well by them all. And she also loved having a new friend, Clare.

“What did we miss ?” asked Jim. Robert spoke, “Well we ordered a few pitchers of Margaritas and we’re throwing a few back. And we have some food coming our way to share, group fashion. So, grab a glass and I’ll fill them up, guys. So nice to see you, Jilly ! How beautiful you look tonight. I’m sure Jimmy has told you already, did you not ?”

“Of course I did,” Jimmy said and held her hand tight and kissed it.

“Thank you, Rob.” Jill said.

The drinks started flowing, then the food arrived, it was a great warm atmosphere.

Everyone was looking forward to getting home tomorrow.

Jim was more than happy to be staying. Jill was joking and laughing with them and they were all getting high on the tequila. Jimmy was looking at her adoringly most of the night and every once in awhile he would kiss her on the lips. Just a small kiss which let the others know he was groovin on her. And he certainly gave her plenty of attention.

Also to the right, Jill and Clare were getting along great as before. Robert and Bonz were talking loudly and one subject that came up was that of the roadies. Bonz said, “That one bloke, Rodg has been careless at times,... when handling the equipment. In fact, he’s the dumb ass who slammed the trunk door on our boy’s hand last week, aye Jim ?”

Robert spoke up, “Yeah, he’s known to do a half assed job when given a job to do, aye ?”

At that point, Jill commented, “When you have something important you need to do, you should never do it half assed. In those cases, you’re gonna need to use your entire ass.“ Everyone laughed and Jill laughed a little at her own joke too. Jimmy leaned over to her and said very quietly, “By the way, you happen to have a very cute ass." She laughed and was not annoyed, she loved silly banter. She added "Thank you. And you, by the way - have a very sweet little hini ! Don’t think I haven’t noticed." He laughed a little, then kissed her softly on the side of her face. Then put his arms around her and squeezed her tightly. He loved being silly with her like that. He was starting to really feel quite close with her.

Clare put her arm around Jill and give her a little hug. She said, "You’re really hysterical ! I love your little crazy comments.”

A few moments later, Jill got up to head to the women’s room. Clare got up too, and joined her.

Clare told Jill, “You are so pleasant and funny. I’m very glad you’re hanging out with Jimmy. You seem really right for him. I hope you’ll stay together. ”

“Clare, you’re awesome, let’s exchange numbers so we can stay in touch. Because I know you’ll be flying out to England tomorrow, yes ?”

“That’s right. But I hope we’ll get a chance to see more of you in the future.” and she gave Jill a warm smile, and a deep thoughtful look. They exchanged cards.

The two of them were waiting in the lounge area of the restroom and there were quite a few women in there, using the sink, putting on lipstick in the mirrors, using the hand dryers.

Suddenly, the two of them noticed, a young lady leaning against a portion of the wall, who was crying pretty uncontrollably. She was holding her hands in front of her face. No tissues, no one comforting her, just alone, her feelings bare. Shaking and crying intensely, apparently suffering. Jill and Clare looked at each other for a second and felt concerned. But nobody did anything about it, everyone ignored her.

Immediately Jill spoke up to her, “Are you ok ? Here, can I give you a tissue ?”

The young lady looked up and reached for the tissue. Jill said to her soothingly, “Is it a man ? It’s a man, isn’t it.” and the young woman started nodding yes, heavily.

Jill approached a little closer and touched the woman’s shoulder, and attempted to pat the girl’s shoulder. As in, ‘there, there.’ The poor thing was so in need of comfort, she threw her arms around Jill and grasped onto her. She was sobbing her eyes out and holding tightly onto Jill as though her life depended on it. Jill simply hugged her back, warmly in her arms. And soothed her by rubbing her back gently. Jill spoke calmly, “Oh, sweetheart ! It’s gonna be okay. They all suck. Don’t you worry. We’ve all been there. And it’s gonna be fine, let it out,… let it out.” Here they were, two complete strangers, standing there grasping each other in a tight embrace, as though they’d known each other for decades. All coming from a human place of pure kindness to another who is suffering. To other people in the lounge, it must’ve appeared as though they were two best friends, or a set of sisters.

Clare dashed into a stall quickly to use the restroom, then headed back to the table.

Meanwhile, Jill suggested to her new acquaintance to maybe have a seat on the bench outside, get some fresh air. That always helps. They walked toward the doorway with their arms around each other’s waists. The young lady slowly started to calm down. But still needed to wipe away quite a few more tears.

When Clare got back to the table without Jill, she leaned into the middle of the table, and mainly intended her comments for Jimmy. They all listened closely however, as she explained, “Jimmy, you have someone really special there. Jill is extraordinary ! Not only is she intelligent and funny, you won’t believe what she just did. A young lady was crying so hard in the lounge area, alone. There were tons of folks in there, all ignoring her. Jill immediately stepped up and comforted her, and the girl was crying profusely on her shoulder. Jill even guessed what was ailing the poor girl,…a man, of course ! Amazing, is all I have to say. She completely impressed me with her sensitive caring, while no one else did a thing. That’s the kind of friend I want ! If you’re smart Jim, you’ll hold on tight to her.”

Jimmy was so touched with Clare’s story. He was proud. He then stood and went walking toward the front of the restaurant. He caught a glimpse of a young woman in an embrace with Jill. She put her open palm against Jill’s cheek, tilted her head, and said an intense thank you. Then turned and left. Jill turned his way, to return to the table, and saw him approaching her.

“Oh hi. Sorry I’ve been gone so long, guess you wondered where I was.” she said.

He just looked into her face and took her hand into his. He said with much sincerity, “I’m so lucky and happy I met you.” with a sweet smile on his face. She just shrugged and said, “Really ? I’m so glad I met you too.” and they walked hand in hand back to the table.

At their seats again, Jill noticed her glass was empty. She leaned to her right and spoke to Clare, “Who do I have to blow around here to get a drink ?” Clare and John heard her and both burst out laughing. She grabbed the pitcher and poured into Jill’s glass. Then they clinked glasses and took a sip. Laughing, Clare put her arm around Jill and said to her, “I’m crazy about you.” And they squeezed each others’ hand, while smiling.

Later on, everyone was out of their seats, socializing. Robert and Jimmy were discussing events for the next few weeks regarding the weeks they’d be apart. It was getting late now. John and Clare approached and Clare said “We’re heading out now, and we won’t see you for a while, so goodnight.” Percy (Robert), leaned down to Clare to give her a hug, next Jimmy did also. As he did, she quietly told Jim about Jill’s funny quote earlier. She wanted him to know what he was dealing with here ! Clare added, “She was just trying to make me laugh, but I’m really going to miss her comedy after we leave !”

Robert overheard Clare’s description and he and Jimmy began cracking up and shaking their heads.

Jimmy said, “Don’t worry, Clare. If I can arrange things my way, you may see a lot more of Jill in the future. Have a safe trip. See you when I get back there.”

As Jill said goodbye to the others, Jim thought about the incident Clare had described in the lounge and couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wasn’t aware of the extent of how amazing Jill could be to other people. He realized there was more to Jill than what he had first noticed. She was more surprising and more naughty than he had thought at first. Which actually made him adore her even more.

He hoped for and anticipated some intense intimacy with her in the very near future. He wanted her more than ever, was dying to get his hands on her sexy body. Need to be patient, he told himself.

The car was waiting out front, and they climbed in the back. Once they started rolling, Jill said, “I had so much fun there ! Thanks for bringing me.” He was glad to hear it. He wanted to make more plans with her, and attempted to think fast on that issue.

However, she spoke first. “I want to ask you something Jim….On Thursday night, I’ll be going to a holiday party with my work crew. It’s gonna be a lot of fun. Drinking, special food, music, dancing at a nice hotel. Would you be interested in joining me ?”

“Would I ? Yeah, I would really like to go. It sounds great.” he said.

“It’s dressy though, sorry to say. You would need to wear a suit jacket.”

“Hey, that’s no problem. I’ll be happy just to be with you. I don’t care where we go. Anything you want, you just tell me sweetheart.” he said.

Next Part 10 : https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/173563414741/in-the-light

Chapter Index :

https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/Fan%20Fiction

#jimmy page jimmy page fan fic jimmy page fanfic jimmy page fan fiction In the Light led zeppelin fan fiction led zeppelin fan fic

11 notes · View notes