#maybe you could also put one or two of said packages into a bundling wrap? idk that might be a bit much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thatfanficstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Stay with Me - Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x reader

Warnings: fluff

A/N: I don't know. This went way off the notes. But you guys seem to like it when that happens.

***

You were the only person who could find Din Djarin anywhere at any time. Of course, that was because he’d given you the means to do so. You hadn’t used it in some time. The two of you had fought and you feared if you annoyed him, he’d take back the locator. Then again, he trusted you even when he was angry with you so maybe he wouldn’t.

You’d been considering tracking him down to try to make amends, but part of you feared he wouldn’t want to. But then word came to you of him rescuing a bounty. Of him double crossing the client. That wasn’t like Mando at all, so you knew he must have a damn good reason. You also knew he’d need all the help he could get.

When you finally found him, he was grasping a package and fighting off the six men that had him surrounded. Normally you wouldn’t have worried about him with those odds, but six against one with only one hand was a stretch even for him. When he took down the last man, he paused to catch his breath. He didn’t even notice one of the men on the ground rolling over, blaster in hand. But you did.

One shot from your own blaster and the man was down for good. Mando spun at the sound and aimed his weapon at you. You holstered yours and gave him a little smirk. He lowered the blaster and tilted his head.

You ran your eyes over him. You’d missed him. “I see you upgraded the armor.”

“Had to.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Mando.”

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” He sounded cautious. You also noticed he had yet to holster his blaster. That wasn’t like him. Not with you. Not for a long time.

Before you could respond, the package in his arm cooed and a small green head with huge ears popped out. You knew instantly that this was the bounty he’d rescued. Mando wouldn’t admit it, but he had a soft spot for kids. Always had. If someone thought he’d turn his back while they harmed one, they were sorely mistaken. Well, you guessed they’d figured that out on their own if the rumors were true.

“Been hearing a lot of chatter on you.” You gestured at the kid. “This explains most of it. Thought you could use a hand.”

He put his gun away then and stepped toward you. “You came to help me out without even knowing what was going on? Even after…”

“You can’t be that surprised.”

A sound that was almost a laugh came from his helmet. “No. I guess I’m not. Come on.” He walked off without waiting to see if you’d follow. He didn’t have to.

You trailed behind him and the kid, scanning the area for threats as you moved. It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the Razor Crest. It looked exactly the same as it always had. You wondered how Din was doing without you around to do the repair work.

He closed the ship up behind you and you held out your hands for the kid. “I’ll take…him? Her?”

“Him,” he answered while maintaining his grip on the kid.

You nodded. “I’ll take him. You get us in the air.”

“Yeah. All right.” He handed over the bundle and disappeared to the cockpit.

The kid was strangely adorable. “All right, kid. Let’s take a look around and see if Mando’s made any changes, huh?”

It didn’t take you long to discover everything was exactly as you’d left it. Which meant Din was still sleeping in the cockpit. Which also meant he had no intention of you joining him anytime soon. Idiot.

Your little buddy yawned and blinked his eyes. With a smile you got him settled in the makeshift bed you’d found. “Goodnight,” you told him as you secured him to make sure he didn’t wander off anywhere.

Taking a deep breath for courage, you climbed up to the cockpit. You sat in one of the seats behind Din and watched him as he programed the ship. He didn’t acknowledge your presence in the slightest. When he finished, he sat in silence and you let him. There were things to be said, but you weren’t going to start the conversation.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” he finally said.

“I gathered from your reaction. You had to know I’d come back eventually.” You sounded tired, which you supposed you were. Tired of all this tension between you and the man in front of you.

He turned his chair so it faced you. Even with his helmet on, you could feel his gaze on you. “Actually, I didn’t. I was afraid I pushed too far this time. I hoped however.”

“You could have come after me, Din.” You rarely spoke his given name so he paid attention when you did.

“I did. Twice. Saw you and chickened out. I couldn’t take you telling me you didn’t want anything else to do with me. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

“Did the great Din Djarin just confess to being afraid of something?” you teased. He wasn’t given to emotional confessions so you were going to enjoy this while you could.

“Afraid of losing you? Always.” He leaned forward and laid his hand against your cheek. A sound of disgust escaped him as he yanked his hand back and took off his gloves, tossing them to the floor. When he placed his hand on your face again, you sighed at the warmth and the feel of his skin against yours. It had been too long.

“I missed you,” you confessed.

Din nodded then cleared his throat. “Stay.”

“Why?” He’d made it very clear the last time you’d seen him that he didn’t need you, didn’t want you.

He leaned back and looked down at his lap. His shoulders moved as he sighed. Then he did the thing you were least expecting: he took off his helmet. A grin covered your face as you ran your eyes over him. You hadn’t seen his face in so long. Despite the current state of your relationship, you needed to touch him. You moved to his lap and his arms instantly wrapped around you to support you. You ran your fingers over his cheeks and through his hair.

His lips pressed against yours in a quick kiss then he laid his forehead on yours. “I never wanted you to leave.”

You pulled back with a frown. “That is most certainly not what you said at the time.”

He traced your cheek with his nose. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything as you remembered the fight that had caused you to leave in the first place. The two of you had been on a job and you would have been killed had Din not been there. The fight over you not being careful devolved into a yelling match about you feeling like his partner rather than his wife. He’d then informed you that wasn’t about to change and told you to leave if you had a problem with it. So you did. And you missed him the moment you stepped off the Razor Crest alone.

Now, here he was asking for forgiveness. With his helmet off, nonetheless. And the truth was, you were so tired of being angry. Of being hurt. “I’m not sleeping in the cockpit, Din.”

He gave you a lopsided smile and shook his head. He got the two of you on your feet then wrapped your hand in his to give it a little squeeze. You followed as he led you deeper into the ship. He stopped along the wall not far from where the child slept. He tugged on a handle and a bed folded out from the wall. An actual bed just big enough for two if you didn’t mind snuggling.

He stepped up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I can’t promise not to get pissed when you’re hurt or in danger but I can promise that I’ll try harder to be your husband and not just your partner.” He buried his face in your neck, pressing a kiss in the curve between your neck and shoulder. “I missed you so much it hurt. Please come back home. Stay with me.”

You turned in his arms and looked him over again, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. You kissed him, a slow, sweet embrace that promised more. When you pulled from his arms, his lips curled in a frown. You sat on the bed, which was surprisingly comfortable. You grinned as you patted the mattress beside you. “Stay with me.”

His grin mirrored your own as he stripped off the beskar piece by piece. Once he was left in his tunic and breeches, he crawled into the bed behind you and pulled you back to lay with him. He stayed propped on one elbow as he smiled down at you and ran a thumb over your cheek. “I will never stop loving you.”

“I couldn’t if I tried,” you replied before tugging him forward by his tunic and getting lost in his lips.

#mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

142 notes · View notes

13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Better Luck Next Time (USWNT x Baby!Reader)

Request: Reader is really bad at expressing her feelings and talking about things she loves, so the team helps her as best as they can. And one evening she calls them all into a room and tells them how much they all mean to her and how happy she is to have them

Author’s note: Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog because without her this imagine would not have been nearly as cute or cohesive. It’s set up kind of like a three times she didn’t and the one she did format. I also couldn’t help the little hint of Mal x reader that i stuck in here. Let me know what you think! i freaking live for feedback. Hit me up with questions, requests or if you just wanna say hi. My inbox is always open!

3 days on the team

Fuck the beep test.

You fell to your knees panting heavily, sweat pouring off your forehead as you stared in disbelief at Kelley. How the fuck was she still going? The rest of your team had already been eliminated, everyone except for the flying squirrel.

You had barely made it to the line on time, and there she was, running off to the next one in time to hear the next one like you hadn’t just done 70 reps. You had to up your game if you wanted to keep your spot. Your plan was simple- beat the best players and show them why you belonged.

A bottle of water appeared in your peripheral vision. You flinched waiting for the icy spray to hit your face, but it never did.

“You did good kid. Don’t beat yourself up about getting out earlier than Kelley. I don’t think anyone could actually beat her.” She said, pushing the water bottle into your hands and making you take a sip.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words would come out. You weren’t sure if that was because The Alex Morgan was talking to you, or if it was because your lungs were no longer in your chest.

“I swear, the rest of us could tag-team this thing and she would still probably outlast us,” Alex said, shaking her head as she walked away, already used to your non-responses (though she was sure she saw your lips twitch up) “I’ve stopped trying, it’s so not worth the knee pain tomorrow.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times as if you were going to call some sarcastic response after her, but the words just wouldn’t come out. You just sighed, resting your head on your knees, your chin hitting your chest-- better luck next time.

*****

6 months on the team

The bus was a tricky situation. On most days the team didn’t care where you sat, but you knew that would change drastically during important tournaments, like Olympic qualifiers big. You had already been warned that where you sat- where everyone sat really- mattered.

Screwing it up could bring the team bad luck, and you really didn’t want to be the reason why your team wasn’t going to the Olympics for the first time.

For that reason you tried to be the last person on the bus, so you could tell where to sit based on what seats were open, but Emily had forgotten something and so she and Lindsey had run off to grab them, and now you were staring down the aisle of a partially filled bus wondering whether you were about to cast an omen of doom if you set your bag down.

“Third row on the left is open, or 8th on the right,” you hear a voice pipe up from behind you. One of Christen’s warm hands settled on your shoulders, the other held her duffel bag partially over her shoulder.

You felt yourself relax at the directions, incredibly grateful for the woman who had become one of your many team moms. You hadn’t ever spoken a full sentence to the woman, but she embraced your shy nature without blinking.

“You could also crash with Mal, she doesn’t have a bus buddy,” Tobin’s bead popped up on your other side, wiggling her eyebrows. It was funny to most of the girls that their two team babies had things for each other.

A light blush spread across your cheeks as you nodded. “Thanks” You mumbled, throwing your bag into an empty row, unwilling to sit with your crush. Tobin snorted as she settled back down, propping her feet up on the seat in front of her, her head on Alex’s shoulder as she slumped halfway down in her seat.

“Better luck next time kid,” Christen winked at Mal and tossed her a small package of Oreos when she pouted.

*****

9 months on the team

Going against Japan was never fun. They were a technically sound team with none of the friendly players like Leah or Jessie. That and they still held a massive grudge from the 2015 World Cup.

As the second half had progressed, the Japanese team had become increasingly desperate. In their attempts to get the ball out of their defending half and into the US box, they had left giant gaps in their defense that Linsey and Sam were exploiting. As forwards, you and Alex were getting sent through balls and crosses.

You collected a particularly nice ball threaded by Lindsey and broke towards goal, beating the two defenders that were marking you and looking for Alex. You were so focused on tracking her position that you didn’t see the center back coming in for a tackle until it was too late and you were staring up at the clouds, tweety birds fluttering around your head.

You could feel the headache forming, like a growing stress ball where the base of your head met your neck. That was going to hurt once the adrenaline rush was over.

“Hey Beaker, you alright?” Emily’s head appeared in your immediate vision, her worried form slightly fuzzy around the edges.

“Meep meep” You huffed, sending the woman a little smile. It was weird to see Sonnett so serious. She put down a hand to pull you up and began brushing the grass off your jersey.

“How the fuck is that not a yellow or a PK, her studs were up and she wasn’t even going after the ball,” Lindsey yelled towards the ref, jogging past you to get right in the woman’s face.

“Go help your girlfriend, mm fine” You mumbled, embarrassed by the attention you were getting. Emily’s presence was comforting, but couldn’t block the feeling of thousands of eyes throughout the stadium, watching you to see if you were going to be pulled from the field. You wondered if many of them were almost hoping for it.

Emily sent you a worried look before patting your shoulder. “That was almost a goal too! And hey, they wouldn’t have fouled you if you weren’t killing it out here!” She nudged your shoulder lightly with hers and released you to the medics, walking over to Lindsey and pulling her away from the ref before she got a red.

You watched them for a bit before someone shined a flashlight in your eyes. Maybe next time you would find the words to thank them, someday when you weren’t feeling so dizzy. You’d have better luck next time.

*******

1 year on the team

Oreos were the quintessential after practice snack. It appeased the vegans and catered to the sweet tooth of the younger side of the team, and really, anyone who didn’t like Oreos was surely messed up.

Normally the team took turns bringing the packets of double-stuff, hiding them in duffel bags so coaches wouldn’t see and remind them about the diets they were all supposed to be on during season (and Dawn was like a bloodhound when it came to contraband).

But to celebrate something the team would forego the normal packs set out by the coaching staff in favor of double, triple, or mega stuffed ones and some funky flavors. And right now was a celebration if you ever saw one. The team was jubilant after their extremely entertaining scrimmage. Your team, Cool Beans (named by Tobin), had beaten team Hot Stuff (Alex’s team) 6 to 5, you scoring 3 of said goals.

You smiled lightly from your place on the locker room bench, munching happily on your mint Oreo and listening to several of the conversations happening around you. You felt so comfortable tucked between Mal and Christen, so safe and welcome.

“You know, I really love you guys,” you said. There was a lull in the conversation, and several girls turned toward you in shock.

“Holy shit, Meep Meep just talked!” Emily exclaimed, all eyes turning to you and your very red cheeks. Perhaps you hadn’t meant to say that out loud...

“We all knew she could talk,” Mal protested, throwing a balled-up cookie packet at her. Emily only smirked as the piece of plastic drifted through the air, falling about a foot short of its intended target.

“Yeah but she said more than 3 words,” Lindsey rolled her eyes at the 2nd youngest forward, wiggling her eyebrows at Mal who had wrapped her spare arm around your waist.

“I just-... you guys make me feel safe and I’ve never had my friends become like family before, and I love you guys,” You said, smiling at the ground.

“We love you too Kiddo,” Christen said, from behind your left ear.

“Group hug!!!!!” Kelley yelled before anyone could stop her, the women sharing a conspirator look before rushing you.

You tried to protest, but in the end, there was no stopping them. A bundle of arms wrapped around you, dragging you to the floor in a dog pile.

“Isn’t this nice!” Emily said from somewhere above you.

“Would be nicer if your elbow wasn’t embedded in my spleen…” You grumbled, hushing when Mal leaned up to kiss your cheek. Yes, these women were crazy, but right now you felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #literalhedgehog

399 notes · View notes

pillage-and-lute · 4 years ago

Text

The Courting Ways of Wolves (Part 3)

I’m back at it again. Hopeless boys.

Part 1, Part 2, (here) Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue

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

Geralt’s first attempt at courting (to kiss Jaskier’s hand) had seemed to only confuse his bard, so he decided to leave that one and try again later.

A few days from Kaer Morhen, as Jaskier was trying to find dry firewood among the snowmelt, Geralt took out the very folded and much handled List. It looked very complicated. This courting stuff was hard. He selected the least intimidating item on the list.

Number Four it said. Kill things and bring them to him. This seemed logical to Geralt. He’d seen cats, which he loved although they seemed to avoid him, drop dead mice at their owners’ feet. It seemed like a sign of affection. Now, the owners generally were disgusted rather than endeared, but Geralt wasn’t too worried. He wasn’t going to bring Jaskier mice, after all. Nor would he, remembering Number Two: Mind your manners, drop them on his boots.

He went off into the woods.

Rather a while later he came back to camp, a bit miffed. The spring was still early and not many animals were about. Too thin for food and of course it didn’t do to kill many in the mating season anyway. Jaskier had a fire going and Geralt brooded by it.

How was he supposed to court Jaskier without killing things for him?

But Lambert had said that killing things showed that Geralt would protect Jaskier, and so Geralt was going to protect Jaskier so completely, and eventually he would kill something for him.

It occurred to Geralt that courting wasn’t really a one-step-at-a-time process, he had to do everything at once. Number Three was compliments.

“You built a nice fire,” he said, a little more gruffly than he’d intended.

Jaskier had been tending to his lute, oiling the wood, but he looked up at that.

“Thanks?” he said. “I always make them the same way, you know.”

“I know,” Geralt said, “But it is done well.” They lapsed into a silence that, although not awkward, was not as comfortable as might have been. Jaskier was giving him a look, but Geralt didn’t know what it meant.

It got colder as they prepared for the night. They were sharing a tent, and the body heat should keep them warm enough, especially in the small tent, but Jaskier crawled onto his bedroll and shivered.

A human wouldn’t have picked it up. The only light was the faint glow of the coals of their fire, filtered through the canvas, but Geralt’s eyes caught the movement.

Protecting Jaskier didn’t just mean from monsters.

He rose from the tent and walked over to Roach, whispering softly to her, wrapped under her own blanket. He took his cloak from where he’d tucked it into his saddle bag.

Back in the tent Jaskier was curled up facing towards the center of the tent. Geralt lay down, facing him, and draped his cloak around Jaskier, tucking it under at the edges so that the cold air couldn’t get in. Jaskier looked up at him with wide eyes, although he probably couldn’t see Geralt’s expression. Geralt gave him a pat on the shoulder.

He wanted more than anything to let his hand linger, to slide it down Jaskier’s back and pull him closer. He wanted to tuck Jaskier into his chest and wrap his arms around him and hear his heartbeat.

But that would mean breaking the rules of Number Two: mind your manners. And if he listened in the dark, between Jaskier’s deep, even breaths, he could hear his heartbeat, steady and faster than Geralt’s own.

He listened to it slow further as Jaskier slipped into sleep.

You look beautiful when you sleep, Geralt thought as he drifted off. He didn’t say it though, waking your sleeping love seemed like a bad way to court. He dropped off too.

He woke to Jaskier turning over, arm falling and slapping Geralt across the face.

“Mmmhp?” Jaskier said, one eye half open. “What’d I h’t?”

Geralt picked Jaskier’s limp hand from his face. “Me.”

“Mmmh tha’s nice, G’mornin’ Geralt,” Jaskier said, and he started to drop back off to sleep.

Number One: kiss his hand.

“May I?” Geralt said.

“Yeah, sure g’a’head,” was the muzzy reply.

Geralt pressed a gentle kiss to the captured hand. Jaskier hummed happly and snuggled closer. That was a good sign.

Geralt kissed the back of the hand, then clumsily kissed the callouses on Jaskier’s ring and middle fingers.

Another happy hum.

A single kiss to the center of the palm. Geralt pictured that hand, the freshly kissed palm caressing the side of his face.

Back in reality the hand drooped limply in Geralt’s hold. Geralt set it down.

Jaskier snored.

Smiling fondly, Geralt crawled out into the grey light of morning. Chilly dew had frozen on the grass, and under the new light the world had been set in silver. He had a momentary spike of indecision. Jaskier was sleeping soundly, but even Geralt could appreciate the beauty of the scene, it was probably poetic. Jaskier would probably be sad if he missed it.

Protect Jaskier from sadness.

“Jaskier,” he whispered, crawling back into the tent, frost melting under his knees leaving uncomfortable, damp patches. “Jaskier wake up.”

Jaskier sat up, muzzy but wary.

“No danger,” Geralt said, taking his hand. “Just something you should see.” Jaskier crawled out towards the opening of the tent, Geralt backing out to give him room, but he paused. He crouched at the entrance of the tent, socked feet hesitant to step on cold grass, but not sure if he wanted to put his boots on.

Inwardly, Geralt smiled. Jaskier was one of those people who needed a lot of sleep, and he was probably hoping he could go back to bed. He very carefully picked Jaskier up, cradling him as the bard sputtered in surprise. Geralt set him down on Roach’s horse blanket, which she’d shaken off in the night.

Jaskier spread it out under him like a picnic blanket, never looking away from the glittering silver world around them. The silver reflected in his eyes, giving them a sparkle like pale gems. Geralt would have trapped the world and put it in a bottle if he could see the wonder on Jaskier’s face every day.

He took Jaskier’s little leather bound journal from the saddlebags, along with the smudgy pencil he used when he couldn’t be bothered with ink. Back in the tent, Geralt grabbed the cloak he’d wrapped Jaskier in last night.

He wrapped it around Jaskier again, draping it over him and slipping pencil and journal into chilly fingers. He watched Jaskier flip almost to the back of his journal. He would need a new one soon. That would be a good gift.

Geralt lit a small fire, behind Jaskier so as not to ruin his view, and wondered if this counted as a gift. He couldn’t package the dawn, but maybe it counted anyway.

When water had boiled he joined Jaskier. They sat on the blanket, eating cold rations downed with hot tea, and watched the sun creep up the horizon, turning silver to gold and melting the frost.

They packed up and left shortly after full dawn. Jaskier was blinking sleepily, so Geralt, who had been leading Roach, paused. He lifted Jaskier, still swaddled in Geralt’s cloak, and sat him gently onto Roach. She nickered reproachfully. She didn’t like riders that weren’t Geralt, and if he hadn’t clearly been giving his permission she would have biten any rider who dared.

Not Jaskier, though, Geralt suspected. She loved him too, and the thought made his chest tight, like he’d swallowed a big bite of food without properly chewing. Jaskier leaned forward on Roach.

“Thank you, lovely lady, for letting me ride,” he said, brushing his fingers sleepily through her mane. She tossed her head, like a human shrugging. Think nothing of it, Geralt imagined her saying.

Jaskier dozed, and Geralt walked them along, one ear listening for danger. Mostly he just thought. He thought about courting Jaskier, and all the time he’d wasted.

He burned with shame as he thought of all the time he’d treated Jaskier like a nuisance. He hadn’t meant it that way, he’d treated Jaskier like one of his brothers, ribbing him, pushing at him, leaving him behind if he took too long getting ready.

It was the only form of solid companionship Geralt knew, but Jaskier didn’t understand that. He didn’t respond the way Geralt was used to because he didn’t know the game. And Geralt didn’t want to love Jaskier the way he loved his brothers, he wanted to love Jaskier the way Eist had loved Calanthe, without the hatred of elves.

The thought of course brought him back to Ciri. It had only been a few days and he missed her terribly. She would have loved the silver dawn, he could picture her sitting on that horse blanket next to Jaskier. Maybe he should get her her own journal to draw and write in, a gift for when he saw her again.

If gifts meant he loved Jaskier, surely they would mean he loved his daughter too, and she had lit up when he’d given her the hair pin. Jaskier could teach her that lovely curly script he wrote in when he needed to be fancy. Geralt couldn’t read it, it made his eyes confuse the letters even worse than normal, but Ciri was still a princess, it seemed like the sort of thing she’d need someday.

Jaskier mumbled something in his sleep, slumped over Roach’s back. His hair was messy and one hand was visible, mittened fingers holding one edge.

There was a feeling, seeing Jaskier bundled in his clothes. Geralt wished Eskel was there to help him, but he had plenty of time to parse it out on his own.

Protective, maybe, Jaskier looked peaceful and he wanted to keep him that way. Proud that Jaskier felt safe enough to sleep like this. It also made Geralt want to hold Jaskier, wrapping himself around the bard instead of the cloak. There were other pieces to the emotion, but Geralt gave up and put it down to loved.

Jaskier was slumped over, drooling a bit, wearing huge, knobbly woolen mittens. Geralt loved him entirely and wholeheartedly.

An hour later Jaskier began to snore like a walrus with a sinus issue, and Geralt loved him even more.

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

@llamasdumpsterfire the next part is here! it kinda got away from me, but its cute

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt is a good dad #and also dyslexic #jaskier is a sleepy boy #roach is a good girl #geraskier fanfic #courting fic

216 notes · View notes

anotherhellchild · 4 years ago

Note

📂 i love your headcanons!

Aaahhhh thank you so much!!

Alright so, in honour of ur username…. Imma spout a Dadzawa + Bakuson + cat headcanon

(Quick shout out to @arschemy first tho! This was originally her idea and she really helped me <3)

The sun’s going down and Katsuki is on his way back to the dorms from his run.

It’s cold out, not cold enough for a jacket but definitely cold enough for a long sleeved shirt. The sky is getting darker and Katsuki’s heavy breaths become visible after every short exhale. The boy’s maybe got another three or four kilometers left before he’s back at UA’s gates, he’ll probably be there in about ten minutes.

A small, dark gray dot appears on the light gray concrete about two meters away from Katsuki’s feet. Then another falls a little away from there. Soon, more specs materialize and before Katsuki knows it, rain starts pouring down all around him. The street is empty. His hair dampens and falls down his forehead, wet locks of blond hair cover the top of his eyes. Raindrops slide down his neck and partially soaked socks make every step uncomfortable.

He should probably pick up the pace.

There’s a loud shriek. Or more accurately, there’s a loud shriek-like sound.

The noise comes from the alleyway to Katsuki’s right and the teen halts his movement right away.

Taking a couple steps back, Katsuki peeks past the corner of the wall. He’s just in time to see a cardboard box flip over and fall to the ground. After a moment of nothing, the thing knocks itself about three centimeters to the left.

Katsuki’s pretty sure unanimous objects aren’t supposed to be able to do that.

He should probably investigate this.

Making sure to keep his footsteps light, Katsuki carefully steps closer to the box. He needs to be cautious, you never know who or what could pop out from under a box in a sketchy alleyway.

mrrreowwww!

Oh. It’s just a fucking cat.

Great.

Somewhere, deep in the teen’s heart, Katsuki’s honestly a little relieved. Everywhere else though, Katsuki feels really stupid.

Not everything is out to get you, you fucking idiot.

Maybe he’s starting to turn a little paranoid.

The side of the box lifts up slightly, just enough for a little black paw to stick out from underneath.

Katsuki stares.

A black nose nudges it’s way underneath the box too, it fits perfectly in the gap created by the small paw. Whiskers and pointy teeth poke out from under cardboard.

Soundlessly, Katsuki crouches down.

The cat's head nudges and squirms it’s way out from underneath the box, once the small, drenched face completely finds its way out of its cardboard prison, it freezes.

Katsuki doesn’t move.

Big, red eyes stare into his.

Neither of them blink.

Rain still falls around them. Fat drops of water crash to the ground and two creatures get soaked in a stare off.

The cat gives first, it carefully tilts its head before cautiously continuing the process of getting out from under the box. It’s eyes stay locked on Katsuki.

Katsuki blinks then, the movement is slow and he doesn’t dare move any other muscle.

The cat blinks back. The thing’s found its way out from the box and it takes a cautious step towards the blond. Its black, spikey fur is a little tangled and really wet. Its ears are back and flat against its head. The thing looks underfed, cold and ready to pounce.

Katsuki offers his hand.

The distance between the two is closed slowly. After a couple sniffles, the cat comes even closer, maybe it senses Katsuki’s warmth. Maybe it craves that warmth.

Fuck.

Katsuki didn’t think he’d be relating to a fucking alleycat when he left for his run an hour ago, yet here he is.

The boy carefully gives the shivering creature a pat on its head. The thing immediately demands for more.

No.

Fuck.

He can’t get attached to the fucking cat. He’s not even a cat person for fucks sake.

mew

A little black paw comes up to tap Katusuki’s hand after it paused in its movement. Big red eyes seem to glow in the dark.

Tch.

When the hell did he become so weak?

---

Katsuki prays to any deity that nobody hears him enter the dorms. He really really really does not need anybody talking to him right now.

The cat squirms around in Katsuki’s shirt. The thing’s still shivering a little bit, but it’s already much better than twenty minutes ago. It serves as a nice lil’ heater on Katsuki’s chest too.

After looking around to make sure the coast is clear, Katsuki makes a bee-line for the stairs. By some miracle, he actually manages to make it to his room undetected.

Once he’s got the cat inside, Katsuki does his best to help the little guy out.

First, he takes the thing to the showers. Luckily for them, it’s too early in the evening for anybody else to be around in the bathroom so they get all the space they need to clean/ warm up.

It doesn’t take long for Katsuki to discover the hardest part of the whole ‘cleaning process’. Even though the damn thing is already soaking wet, it absolutely refuses to touch the warm, clean water Katsuki prepared for it. Lets just say that giving the cat a much needed bath has earned the boy quite a couple scratches.

The cat’s an annoying lil’ beast.

After both of them are all cleaned up though, it’s easy for Katsuki to brush the tangles out of the cat’s fur. The animal doesn’t put up any fuss and it actually seems to lean into the touch.

Katsuki finds some dinner for the both of them after all that is said and done. The cat desperately needs some food and water and although there isn’t any cat food in the dorms, they both make due with some random things Katsuki finds in the kitchen.

It’s too late to go out to a pet store right now, that’s just going to have to be done tomorrow.

The rest of the night, Katsuki and the cat just chill together. Katsuki honestly never knew watching a cat chase a laser could be so entertaining.

This kind of sucks, he thinks a couple hours after he found this monstrosity of a creature stuck under a fucking cardboard box in some random alleyway.

He looks down to where the bundle of black fur is curled up on his chest, the damn thing is purring and maybe maybe it's definitely already earned a special spot in Katsuki's heart.

I can’t keep you.

Katsuki knows he can’t. It would be unfair to the cat and it would be too selfish of him.

It’s not like he wants it this way, but he knows- he knows the cat deserves better.

So, there’re really only two options:

1) Take the cat to a shelter. It’d probably find a good home to live in. There’s no guarantee that would be the case though.

2) … Aizawa’s birthday is coming up. Katsuki hasn’t thought about what he wants to give his sensei yet but, everyone knows the man has a soft spot for strays.

Yeah, Katsuki’s already made up his mind.

---

It’s been a suspiciously normal birthday so far. Shota’s a little over 15 hours into the day and somehow, with his hell class, nothing drastic has happened yet. It’s almost unsettling, not that Shota’s complaining of course. He just… isn’t used to this relative normalness.

Whatever, he’s decided to just enjoy it. Perhaps the gods have finally decided to grant him a small break and the least Shota could do is accept that.

Anyway, Shota’s almost done giving his feedback speech to the kids and once it’s over, he’ll finally be free to take a much deserved nap.

“All in all, you guys did a good job today. Each of you know what you need to improve on individually so make sure you do. Dismissed.”

The class tiredly falters to the changing rooms at his words, except one stays where he is. The sight makes Shota sigh.

This is gonna be trouble, he thinks. The particular kid who's decided to stay behind is kind of notorious for- well he’s notorious for a bunch of things, but Shota will just use the word ‘danger’ for now.

Bakugou walks towards him as soon as the rest of the class is gone.

“Hey teach, I uhh gotchu somethin’.” The absolute hell child kind of awkwardly scratches the back of his head with those words. It’s obvious he’s having trouble with this, nevertheless Shota is incredibly proud of how far he’s come with his people skills. “Happy birthday I guess.”

Bakugou hands him a small, poorly wrapped package.

Honestly, Shota’s pretty surprised by the gesture. He… wasn’t expecting this. The class has already congratulated him with cake and gifts this morning, it was cheesy and sappy and sweet and it was done. The moment has already been had and it’s also already passed. Now Bakugou, of all people, is showing an extra form of affection towards him with whatever is wrapped in that paper.

Has the kid been hit with a quirk or something?

Unwrapping the package, Shota discovers... a collar.

Oh god.

It’s red with black seams on the outside and black with red seams on the inside.

Shota’s getting a very foreboding feeling about this, he’s also quite confused.

The man looks up to find Bakugou smirking.

“You can flip it around so either the black or red side shows.” The boy says.

“Bakugou, wha-?”

“I chose this colour cause it matches with his eyes.”

The kid crosses his arms over his chest. Somehow, the smirk on his face grows, an unnamed feeling in Shota’s chest grows with it.

“Also, I haven’t gotten a name tag yet cause I figured you’d want to name him yourself. Personally, I kinda liked ‘Dynamite’, but it’s obviously up to you though.”

Shota gulps. Pieces are falling together and he’s not sure he likes the picture they show.

What exactly did his devil spawn student do?

There’s no way- did he? Did he do what Shota thinks he’s done?

“Alright alright, look.” The kid says, hands up in a defensive stance. “Calm down sensei, jeez. Stop looking at me like you’re having a heart attack. I’ll explain, Okay?”

Shota takes a deep breath. He will show now sign of hope or excitement on his face.

“I was out on a run last week and I found a stray cat. I brought it back to the dorms cause it looked like shit and I- I just didn’t wanna leave it there.” Bakugou frowns at that, his gaze tears away from Shota’s and focuses on the ground instead. “Whatever. It’s really sweet and it deserves a good home. I knew you really liked cats and with your birthday coming up and all I just kinda figured you might want him? If you don’t then that’s fine of course, I just- hmph. It’s a good cat, okay?” The words are spoken clearly, Shota knows they’re used to hide insecurities though. Katsuki’s on the defensive.

There’s a lot to unpack. The main thing Shota notes is that Katsuki’s clearly gotten attached to this cat of his.

To be honest, Shota’s already made up his mind about this.

“So, you’re telling me you’ve been hiding a cat in your dorm room for a week now? You’re aware that’s against the rules right?” He keeps his voice calm and monotone.

The kid huffs. “Yeah, I have. And I do. I wanted to wait till your birthday to give him to you though, it’d kinda spoil the surprise if I told you.”

“True.” Shota stands up, thank god his capture weapon is there to hide his smile.

Katsuki looks up to him and there’s a bit of a pause. He stares at Bakugou and Bakugou stares right back.

“Well, am I going to be allowed to meet Dynamite or what?” Shota says, one brow quirked up in challenge.

Bakugou releases a breath, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, you better take good care of him though, sensei. You won’t be forgiven if you don’t.” There’s a smirk on the boy’s lips, but his eyes are dead serious.

A fucking shovel talk.

Heh, leave it to his hell child to give such a casual yet intimidating shovel talk about a cat.

Pretty impressive.

He’ll be a fine hero, Shota thinks.

---

So, Dynamite is a fucking angel. Shota loves him and it’s no wonder Bakugou got so attached to him, the cat literally follows the boy around everywhere and Bakugou is definitely its favorite person.

It’s kind of nice, seeing the kid relax and let loose whenever he comes over to the teachers dorm for the creature. It happens quite often and Shota even brings the thing over to the dorms sometimes, just so Bakugou can hang out with it for a while.

What? It’s good to see the kid’s shoulders slump down whenever Dynamite sits on his lap. Bakugou absentmindedly strokes soft, black fur and the actions automatically makes his guard drop, albeit slightly.

Honestly, at this point Dynamite isn’t even his cat anymore. It’s his and Bakugou’s cat.

Shota doesn’t mind.

#IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO ANSWER #pls forgive me ive just been so busy #and i really kinda hated my writing #but i felt so guilty for making you wait so long :((#am very very sorry #anyway #the cat and katsuki are besties :)#Dynamite chills on katsukis shoulders all the time #it very cute #bnha #bakugou katsuki #shota aizawa #a cat #BNHA Headcanons #my hero academia #Headcanon #disclaimer btw: i know nothing about cats #do like them tho #folder ask!!

208 notes · View notes

jawritter · 4 years ago

Text

Twelve Days Of Christmas

Chapter 10

Summary: Dean never realized that Y/N missed Christmas until he turned off an annoying Christmas song on the radio on the way home from a hunt, now he will make it his personal mission to give her the Christmas he misses so much, and if he plays his cards right, maybe he will give her what he has wanted to give her for so many years, himself.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Field: Cas

Word Count: 1750

Warnings: Series finale spoilers here!! Mentions of canon character death, Mentions of grief, some fluff, probably language in there too. This is the heaviest chapter of this series honestly. Mentions of past smut. I think that’s it.

A/N: This is to help me catch up on my SPN Christmas Bingo card lol Chapter 11 will post tomorrow! I knew chapter will post every day until Christmas! I know I’m insane lol. This is a real time fic collection and all mistakes will be my own! Please do not copy my work! Hope you all enjoy these!!

**SERIES MASTERLIST** **MASTERLIST** **BECOME A

Dean’s sock-covered feet dragged as he made his way down the stairs, and into the kitchen in search of his morning coffee. You were still wrapped up warmly in bed, sound asleep when he’d forced himself up, and made himself get out of bed.

God knows he didn’t want to get up. He would have rather stayed right there, wrapped up against your warm body, but that would have led to something he wasn’t sure you were ready for yet, and he didn’t want you to feel like just because you were a couple now that you had to sleep with him.

Sex was something that had been somewhat polluted for Dean over the years. It was just a mechanical function he used to blow off steam or to just scratch that itch. It never meant anything, just another nameless face he’d forget in the morning. With Lisa, it was mostly just something to do to stave off the mind-numbing boredom, but still, even though he did care about Lisa to an extent, it meant nothing.

When the time finally did come, and they decided to take that step, he wanted it to be different, to actually mean something for him. He wanted that connection he’d always craved, but never been able to achieve. He didn’t want to just go through the familiar physical motions. He wanted more this time.

He was standing at the kitchen window, looking out over the snow-covered lawn with a cup of coffee in his hand, and his mind swirling in the stress-induced storm that had become his norm over the years when you slipped up behind him, and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his broad back. He seemed to relax a little as soon as your arms were around him, and you would have given your left arm to know what was going on inside that head of his, but you knew Dean, and it was best to let him work himself through it, and if he wanted to talk he would.

“What’s got you up so early?” Dean asked, sitting the coffee cup down on the counter in front of him and turning to wrap his arms around you, pulling you tighter to him. “You were sound asleep when I got up.”

You shrugged against him, you didn’t want to admit you weren’t asleep when he got up, but rather was just laying there enjoying the warmth his body was providing until he decided to randomly sneak away.

“Just woke up I guess. What’s got you out of bed so early?” you asked him.

Dean sighed deeply, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful laying there.”

The two of you stood there in comfortable silence for a long time, even though neither of you said anything you could almost feel the wheels turning inside Dean’s head. Dean was a strange, complicated person on a lot of levels. You knew he wasn’t going to completely open up to you overnight, but on days like this, when he seemed stuck in his own head, you wished more than anything he’d let you in.

Suddenly, Dean stood up straighter, letting go of you and stalking towards the little tree in the living room. The stance of his body had yours suddenly on high alert. It was a predatory prowl that Dean only reserved for hunts or immediate danger, and it had your own hunter scenes on edge.

Reaching behind you to the knife draw you pull out a butcher knife, never taking your eyes off of Dean as he stalks his way into the living room, seemingly headed for the Christmas tree, but looking around him as if something were going to jump out of the corner of the room and attack at any moment.

Finally, he reached his goal and stooped down to retrieve what looked to be a deep blue something, warped with a red bow, and a card you hadn’t noticed until he retrieved it.

Slowly you made your way towards the center of the room where Dean was standing with the little package in hand, your curiosity getting the best of you.

“What is it Dean?” you ask him quietly, and you were surprised when he jumped a little. Dean didn’t startle easily.

Dean turned, showing you the little bundle of what looked like silk material, and the folded card, confusion etched deep in his perfect face.

“You didn’t put this there?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the tree.

“No, I’ve been with you all night,” you reply, looking closely at the little bundle in Dean’s hand, an uneasy feeling still deep in your bones.

Dean turned the card over in his hand, reaching it in silence. You watched his features change from something hard and calculating, to soft and almost vulnerable. In fact, you could have sworn he was about to cry.

He swallowed thickly, handing the card over to you for you to read. It was written in an unkept, child-like scrawl you never thought you’d see again, it was obviously Jack’s handwriting.

Dean,

Merry Christmas. Here’s a little something from some of those you have waiting on you in Heaven. Even though we can’t be with you in person this year, we’re here in spirit. So here's a little something to remember them by.

With love,

Cas, Mary, and Jack.

Dean’s hands shook as his thick fingers pulled the little silk ribbon, undoing the little bow on the bundle and opening it slowly, revealing Cas’s blue tie, wrapped around Mary’s charm bracelet he’d only ever seen once in his life when he’d traveled back in time to try and stop his mom from making that fatal deal; as well as the mixed tape he’d made Cas so long ago.

Dean sat down slowly, the little trinkets in his hands that shocked ever so slightly, one single tear sliding down his face as he held the reminders of those he loved and lost.

You sat down quietly next to him, your hand resting comfortably on his thigh. You wanted to give him his space, but you wanted to also let him know you were there for him.

“I thought this was lost in the fire,” Dean said finally, shifting the little charm bracelet in his hand. “I looked for it once I returned back to my time period. Looked all through Dad’s stuff, but I never could find it. I just wanted something to hold onto that was hers.”

His eyes shifted to the mixed tape he’d made Cas as he laid the other items down on the coffee table in front of him. “I didn’t even know Cas had kept this.”

From what little bit you all knew, once Cas had been taken to the empty Jack had rescued him, and they were rebuilding Heaven. You knew that the loss of Cas had affected Dean greatly, you were there sitting outside his door on the nights he thought everyone else was finally asleep, listening to him pray to his friend, begging him to come back just one more time while he thought no one was listening.

Dean closed his eyes and leaned into you. You didn’t hesitate in wrapping your arms around him, grounding him, letting him quietly work through his emotions.

“Tell you what,” you say, running your fingers through his sleep tossed hair. “We’ve done enough for me. What do you say we have a Dean day. Sit around here, bake a pie, watch slasher movies or some old westerns, and not even get out of our PJ’s.”

Dean sat up slowly, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. “Let’s save that for tomorrow, today I thought we might head downtown so that you can have a look at those shops that sell that old stuff you love so much, and they’re also having a Whiskey tasting on the main street today. One of the local breweries is throwing it for Christmas.”

Dean sat up, looking at you with a hint of excitement that was hiding behind those shining green orbs of his, the ghost of those memories from the past still lingered there, but he seemed to be handling it well. If you knew Dean, he didn’t want to pass up a whiskey tasting, and you did want to go through those old shops. You loved antique things, and those places were usually littered with them.

“Okay fine, only if we can go get some more of those waffles from that waffle house first, I’m starving,” you tell him, and watch as his face lights up like you had told him he’d won the lottery.

“That’s my girl,” he said, pecking you on the lips before gathering up his gifts, carrying them off upstairs to hide them away until he can take them home and add them to that little wooden box he keeps for his most precious possession.

“Get dressed woman! I’m starving,” he yells down over his shoulder as he disappears from sight, and you smile as you stand from your place on the couch.

“Thanks, Jack, thanks for giving him something to hold onto,” you whisper to the wind.

Dean never really got any closure from Cas’s death, and Mary was taken so suddenly away from him again, you could think of no better gift from them this holiday season. This was his first Christmas without Cas, nowhere near the first without his mom, but it was a nice little reminder that even though they weren’t physically here with him, they still were watching out for him.

Dean wrapped up his gifts back in Cas’s Tie, and placed them safely in his duffle, a soft smile on his face in spite of himself. Sure, it had caught him completely off guard, and at first, the reminder hurt, but the peace he now had in knowing that his mom and Cas were in Heaven waiting on him was an unsuspected gift he wanted, but never thought he’d be able to get.

It also gave him hope that maybe, for the first time in a long time, he was moving in the right direction and not just in circles of more pain and torment. Hopefully, this was a sign that what he had started with you was the beginning of the peace he’d always wanted, but was never allowed to obtain.

Forever Tags:

@deandreamernp

@forgetthisbull

@miraclesoflove

@deanwanddamons

@rvgrsbrns

@chevyharvelle

@onethirstyunicorn

@i-love-superhero

@lyss-dw79

@magssteenkamp

@lemondropirwin

@squirrelnotsam

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@defenderrosetyler

@screechingartisancashbailiff

@thecreatiivecorner

@vicmc624

@busy-bee-angel-misska

@justanotherwinchester

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@idksupernatural

@lyarr24

@amandamdiehl

@miraclesoflove

@emoryhemsworth

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel

@softsebastian

@tatted-trina6

@anaelsbrunette

@hayleeharling

@flamencodiva

@coldmuffinbanditshoe

@dirty-pan-goblin

@itmejado

@supernatural3002

@teresa-67

@thoughts-and-funnies

@hearteyes-j2

@miss-nerd95

@writers-whirlwind

@peaches007

@bobbie3939

@lunarmoon8

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@akshi8278

@love-jackles-37-blog

@supernatural-bellawinchester

@bobbie3939

Series Tags:

@440mxs-wife

#dean winchester #spnchristmasbingo #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester series #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn series #x reader inserts #jensen ackles #jawritter #twelve days of christmas

78 notes · View notes

sxvxrxssnape · 4 years ago

Text

Snolidays/Snapemas: Day 2

Chestnuts & Christmas Cards // pre-PS/the years between. Minerva & Severus friendship aka Minerva McGonagall’s personal mission to make Sev love Christmas part 2.

Yesterday’s snowfall had turned to ice overnight. It crunched underneath their boots, leaving behind a trail of sunken footfalls as they crossed the stone bridge and moved towards the tall, wrought iron gates that secured the ancient school.

The wind wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but Severus still took a moment to adjust his hat, pulling it down over his ears to keep his hair from flitting about in his face. Beside him, Minerva had her hands tucked into the pockets of her woolen cloak and together they made their way towards the waiting carriage that would take them into Hogsmeade.

Hogsmeade was a special little town that sat nestled between crashing ocean waves and giant boulders, an endless expanse of pine trees, and the outline of an antiquated castle perched high above the cliff sides. It was home to a quaint collection of little shops and taverns, and judging by its newly renovated state, a smattering of wizards who seemed to love Christmas just as much as the deputy headmistress standing beside him.

“December literally just started.” Severus groaned, as he stepped out of the carriage and looked around the main street that stretched out before them.

Bundles of garland and red ribbon decorated every light post and rows of twinkling lights and colorful baubles hung from all the nearby trees. Even the air smelled festive and Severus’ lips thinned as he made out the scent of warm cinnamon and ginger - out of contempt or poorly hidden delight, he would never confirm.

Minerva chuckled softly beside him as he eyed the snow-covered rooftops with their dripping icicles that couldn’t be intentional - it was the weather’s doing, for Merlin’s sake - but still seemed intentional against the decorated storefronts that it made him think of gingerbread.

“You don’t have to look so put out,” Minerva teased, leading the way further into what he was now seriously debating was even Hogsmeade at all, “If you want, we can start decorating the castle as soon as we return. I’m sure Albus won’t mind.”

Severus glared at her in return,

“I’ve changed my mind,” he decided, as they passed the stone statue of the town’s founder confirming this to, in fact, be Hogsmeade and not an asinine Christmas village Minerva had secretly tricked him into going to, “I can just owl-order the things I need, from the safety of the castle.”

Regardless, he continued towards the waiting apothecary because he could not - would not - owl order potion ingredients. He couldn’t trust the shopkeeper (or the blasted school owls for that matter) to fully understand why it was so important for his bicorn horns to be the exact shade of pale yellow he needed or the fragility of bursting mushrooms.

And contrary to his current attitude, Severus Snape didn’t hate Christmas. He could appreciate a finely decorated tree and he found himself looking forward, and dare he say, a little excited about the upcoming staff holiday party. He wasn’t the bitter, old man inside that Minerva seemed to think he was, all bah-humbug and scowls when it came to anything remotely festive, he just didn’t understand the point of overdoing it and turning the whole town into a fragrant - wonderful smelling - gingerbread village two days into December.

For Merlin’s sake, he was only twenty-five. That wasn’t enough time for him to turn resentful of the holidays, even if almost every single year had been...less than stellar, by all accounts. It wasn’t like he had never tried to have a good Christmas either, but after so many spectacularly failed attempts, he had decided he was better off not celebrating it at all.

In fact, he had been quite content the last four Christmases working at Hogwarts and only acknowledging the aforementioned holiday party and maybe the changes to the menu, because yeah, he might feel a little indifferent towards the holiday but he also wasn’t a heathen who didn’t gladly indulge in rum-spiked eggnog and fresh baked gingersnaps.

Severus shook his head, trying to dislodge the sudden influx of thoughts. His inner dialogue was beginning to sound a little bitter, even to himself.

“Coffee?” he asked loudly, speaking over the first syllable of whatever Minerva had been about to say, no doubt inferring something too close to accurate about his innermost thoughts from the look on her face, and stopping in front of the smiling wizard standing behind a market stall.

“Afternoon,” the portly man tipped his head at the two, gesturing towards a charmed menu that was currently rewriting itself with the daily special. “What can I get you two?”

They ordered the special at Minerva’s insistence, and handed over a pair of sickles each before continuing on their quest. The coffee was strong and hot, tasting of dark chocolate and peppermint and Severus grimaced at the realization that she had inadvertently (advertently?) found another thing for him to like about Christmas.

Minerva one, Severus zero.

He shook his head again; he wasn’t trying to hate Christmas. He didn’t hate Christmas! He was just stubborn to a fault and after Min’s declaration that she would make this year the best yet, a small part of his mind was determined to rebel against it.

Their time inside the apothecary was quick. The shopkeeper was used to Severus’ particularities and kept to herself as he sifted through bins of precariously piled ingredients and filled his basket with perfectly selected bicorn, jobberknoll feathers, and no less than thirteen jars of things he definitely hadn’t come here for.

After he paid - and thank Merlin he had secured a position that provided room and board - Minerva led them into the paper and quill shop next door. She had a Hogwarts-sized order of parchment and spare quills to put in, so Severus went to browse the new display that had been erected in front of the store window. Red fabric was spread over the round table laden with gaudy, ribbon-trimmed quills and pots of glitter-infused calligraphy ink. He reached for one of the plastic-wrapped bundles stacked in the center, adorned with all sorts of festive symbolism and sighed as he realized what they were.

“You should purchase some,” Minerva suggested, coming up behind him and making him jump. He hated when people snuck up behind him. It had once meant certain death and while the threat of an evil, megalomaniacal wizard behind his shoulder was no longer tangible, the sharp tendrils of fear that spiked into his chest had yet to go away.

He forced himself to relax.

“Christmas is all about spreading cheer, you know.” Minerva continued, thankfully ignoring the way his breath had seized, but clearly not unaware of it given the way she took a step back and appraised him carefully. “By making others happy, you make yourself happy. Perhaps you’ll benefit from it.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying that all my traumatic childhood Christmases can be attributed to the fact that I’ve never sent out Christmas cards?” he asked dryly.

“Yes.” Minerva deadpanned.

He blinked, taken aback by her frankness before he noticed the glint in her eye that indicated she was mostly joking. He looked down at the packages of cards and selected one with a more wintery scene - painted snowflakes and white-dusted evergreens over the eclectic mix of colorful baubles - with a look of feigned resignation, “I guess I’m sending Christmas cards this year.”

“Excellent.”

They left the stationary store after that and headed for the Three Broomsticks. It was a new part of their routine that Severus had found himself looking forward to - Hogsmeade trips used to be rather anxiety-inducing, lonely and quite dull affairs without anyone to quip with, but now they promised good company and a quiet meal away from the bustle of students. Part of it was due to the genuine friendship they were forming, but another part of it was self-serving - for both of them.

They were both aware of it, they just elected not to mention their unique combination of post-war trauma and newly created grief that kept them confined to the safety of the castle and feeling more than a little discombobulated in the small town just outside of it.

The Three Broomsticks was nestled in the midpoint of Hogsmeade, a cozy-looking tavern made from polished wood and frosted windows, that boasted a warm bed and a strong drink to any desiring witch or wizard. The inside was just as quaint and rustic looking, but now it displayed a cascade of twinkling lights and a modestly decorated tree next to the wiped down bar.

“Afternoon, Rosmerta!” Minerva called out to the barmaid and landlady who was topping off a stein of butterbeer with a healthy splash of firewhiskey for a waiting gentleman. They took their seats at a small table in the corner that Severus had long since dubbed their table and shrugged out of their cloaks.

“Afternoon, you two.” Madam Rosmerta greeted them as she approached them. Her strawberry blonde curls were gathered at the top of her head in a loose bun pinned in place by her wand and Severus internalized a scowl at that. He had seen a few witches - and wizards - use their wand for a quick updo, but he had yet to figure out how it was done and he absolutely refused to ask for help. She was carrying two ceramic mugs filled to the brim with a deep burgundy drink.

“Mulled wine,” she announced, setting them down and Severus noted the orange slice and cinnamon stick steeping in the red wine. “Made it last night.”

“I really do believe the drinks are the best part of the holiday season.” Severus mumbled, picking up the warm cup and taking a long sip.

“Come now, they can’t be the best part.” Rosmerta scolded, summoning a menu from the bar and setting it down on the table. “There’s so much more to Christmas than just good wine!”

“Nothing worthwhile.” Severus said simply, picking up the menu and skimming it. He always ordered the same thing, found comfort in stability, but he also couldn’t resist holiday menus when the time arrived.

Minerva looked apologetic as she ushered the barmaid away after a quick scan of the menu and turned to glare at the now scowling potions professor. “Severus!”

“So, do you have a list you’re working from?” Severus asked mildly, picking up his wine and focusing intently on the red-tinted pulp of the orange floating in his drink. “Or are you simply making things up on the spot?”

“Pardon?”

“Your mission to make this year the best Christmas ever.” he specified. “Are you working from a list? Is there a schedule we’re following and can I be made privy to it, so I can plan my potion brewing around it?” He picked up the package of cards. “Or are you just forcing me to take part in things as they come up?”

Minerva eyed him carefully, picking up her own cup. “A little bit of both.”

“Do I get to hear what you do have planned?”

“Some of the classic activities I suppose - decorating the tree, going to look at the lights, maybe visiting Christmastown, baking cookies, go caroling -”

“Caroling?!”

“- maybe decorate a gingerbread house.”

Madam Rosmerta returned before Severus could say anything else, guiding bowls of butternut squash soup and a plate of cheese toasties onto the table with her wand. “There you go, dears.” she smiled, setting down a smaller plate piled with iced gingersnaps. “These are on the house - first bake of the holiday season. Should help get those spirits up.” She sent Severus a pointed look that he deftly ignored and Minerva glared at him again.

“If you’re going to glower at me every time we go out this month, I might just stop going out with you.” he bristled, picking up a toastie and dipping the corner into his soup.

“Maybe you should stop being so bitter then.” Minerva returned.

“What, because it’s Christmas?” he asked, pausing to take a bite. “Oh, such a joyous time of year! Look how absolutely delighted I am to share a room with wine-drunk wizards,” he gestured a hand towards the bar, where a pair of cherry-faced dwellers were singing the words to A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love, “and a goddamn tree!”

“Severus!” Minerva admonished again and this time, Severus hunched his shoulders at the tone. He had gone too far, he could tell from the way her face had smoothed out entirely, giving her a look of cold indifference.

“I’m sorry.” he muttered, swirling his spoon through his soup.

Minerva didn’t say anything and they ate their food in awkward silence. At one point, a pitcher floated over to their table and refilled their mugs before making its way back to the bar. When they were done, Severus eyed the gingersnaps and wondered if it would be considered poor etiquette to reach over and help himself. The mood at the table didn’t feel particularly deserving of cookies.

Then again, he had once attended dinners at the Malfoy’s with The Dark Lord sitting at the forefront and the ambience of those days didn’t stop anyone from helping themselves to an extra piece of focaccia bread. He winced; it felt wrong to compare past - genuinely traumatic - dinner events to the silence before him. Minerva wasn’t an enemy, he was simply a bastard.

“I don’t hate Christmas,” he finally broke the silence. “I just find myself wondering over the point when every Christmas I’ve tried to celebrate properly has ended in disaster. I’m perfectly content with not bothering over it anymore. The lights are pretty and the food is good, and I look forward to watching Rolanda drink everyone under the table later this month, but I’ve stopped putting merit in the holidays. It’s less disappointing that way.”

Minerva pushed the plate of cookies towards him, like some sort of reward for opening up. Which, he supposed, it sort of was. She picked one up and took a bite and only then did he grab one too.

“I don’t get why you’re so determined to fix that.” he added, shrugging.

He bit into the cookie, savouring the meld of flavors - ginger, molasses, warm vanilla. He couldn’t imagine a more perfect gingersnap and he found himself raising the cookie in a gesture of appreciation as he made eye contact with Rosmerta.

“Elphinstone loved Christmas.” she said simply, taking another bite of her cookie and shrugging as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell of emotional manipulation by invoking the name of her dead husband over a plate of cookies on what had started as a pleasant Monday afternoon of running errands after class.

“I-” Severus began, but then stopped.

“We weren’t married for long, I know, but I knew him for 23 years.” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. Her eyes seemed a little faraway now. “We would always make the most of his vacation days - see the lights, visit the Christmas market, decorate the tree, roast chestnuts and drink hot cocoa. He loved carolling, had a good voice for it.”

Severus looked down at his cookie, scraping at the white icing with his thumbnail and effectively crumbling away the hand piped snowflake.

“I’m not making you celebrate Christmas with me because I’m lonely.” she clarified, eyeing him sternly. “If you don’t want to do anything else on this list, I won’t make you. I just don’t want you going through life thinking it’s all bad and that good things can’t happen to you.”

“I don’t -”

“Yes, you do.” Minerva scolded. “Don’t think I don’t see you wallowing every time you catch sight of yet another reminder that this is supposed to be the happiest time of the year. You don’t have to be the cheeriest person to ever walk the earth, for Merlin’s sake, Severus, but you’re letting bitterness take a hold of you and I won’t stand for it.”

Severus tried to scowl back, but Minerva could see right through him.

“Do you know why I accompany you to Hogsmeade?” she asked and Severus grimaced. They weren’t supposed to talk about it; this was one of those stones better left unturned things.

“Don’t say it please.” he whispered, feeling dread curling in his stomach. He hated to think himself as weak and his inability to enter Hogsmeade alone - any bustling wizard town, at that - was only utter proof that he was.

“Your paranoia is valid.” Minerva said quietly, saying as little as possible and yet too much at the same time. “Don’t be ashamed of having trauma, but don’t let it turn you into a bitter, shriveled up, old bastard either.”

“Are we still talking about Christmas?” he asked ruefully.

“You know we aren’t.”

Their empty plates and half-filled mugs suddenly got up and floated away only to return as a pair of traveling paper cups topped with more wine and a splash of something stronger. They nodded their thanks at Rosmerta and shrugged back into their cloaks. They kept a tab at the Three Broomsticks, so paying wasn’t a concern as they exited the building and headed towards the castle in silent agreement to skip the carriage ride.

“So, roasted chestnuts?” Severus brought up, as they crunched over the dirty ice that coated the path back home. “Like, in the song? That’s a thing?”

Minerva nodded.

“Can we do that, then?” he asked casually, trying to make amends. “I noticed the apothecary had a basket full of them. Perhaps we could return and pick some up.”

“Already taken care of.” Minerva replied, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small burlap sack bursting with its lumpy contents. “You were too busy holding jars of lacewing flies to the light you never even noticed.”

“Roasted chestnuts then.” Severus nodded, ignoring the jab towards his particularness. “And uh, thank you for accompanying me to Hogsmeade,” he added, trying to sound indifferent to it, like it wasn’t such a difficult thing to admit aloud. “I know it's hard for you too.”

The witch smiled softly, as if being reminded of her - what, only three months now? - deceased husband and her old life living in the small town was a pleasant memory. And perhaps for her, it was. Perhaps he was letting grief turn him bitter. What did the deaths of his only friends and both his parents have to do with Christmas? Years had passed since both and yet the newly-created widow walking besides him was coping far better than he could ever hope to.

“I think we should talk about Christmas present shopping.”

“I was just going to -”

“And don’t say you were going to owl-order them.” Minerva interrupted, narrowing her eyes at him. “There’s nothing personal about circling a few things in a catalogue.”

“What do you propose then?”

“We’ll go gift shopping together. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Minerva confirmed, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s too early in the month for most people, so Diagon Alley won’t be crowded at all, let alone on a Tuesday. Shouldn’t make you too uncomfortable, yes?”

Severus offered a smile at the unexpected accommodation and nodded. He cradled his paper cup of mulled wine close to his chest, feeling a warmth that came from more than just the hot drink.

a/n: oops maybe got carried away with this one? it would mean the world to me if you told me what you think of this bc im v proud of it.

#snapemas2020 #snolidays2020 #snapedom #pro snape #severus snape #professor snape #snapemas #holiday writing challenge

41 notes · View notes

lances-wormhole · 4 years ago

Text

You Can’t Eat Money (chapter 1) -DaiHaru

Read on Ao3 HERE

Please consider leaving a kudos there if you have the time :) But I’d also appreciate a like and a reblog here as well!

(This was written before episode 3 was released so I apologize if some of the interactions are a tad bit dated. Seems they got closer when episode 4 came out lmfao)

This fic will only have two chapters so stay tuned for the second part!!

***

“A cold?” Daisuke questioned leaning back in his chair as he peeked at Haru’s empty desk.

Shinnosuke smiled smugly, leaning back way farther in his chair so that everyone in the room feared that he might fall backwards at any second. “Yeah. Odd to see him not here though. Usually Haru just comes in to work even with a fever.”

Daisuke frowned, raising his fingers to his mouth as if he had a cigar between them.

“Maybe he slept in… his body finally told him that he’s gotta sit this one out I hope.” Shinnosuke shrugged, turning back to his computer. Daisuke could hear Mahoro sigh in relief when the blonde didn’t topple over. “After work I’m gonna go over and check up on him just in case.”

“No need,” Daisuke interrupted, standing up from his desk and gathering the papers on Haru’s desk. “I’ll head over now. Chief?”

“Go on.” Chief Yukihiro giggled to himself, seeming not to care much for Daisuke’s independence. “Bring over some medicine if you have the time to stop by a store. He never had anything useful in stock.”

Daisuke smirked, slipping on his sunglasses as he stood by the door. “Will do.”

***

Haru felt ridiculous. Rather, ridiculous with a side of self loathing.

Seeing Daisuke Kambe standing at the entrance to his apartment with bags upon bags of medicinal herbs and teas, as well as boxes of bottles of pills and cough syrup stacked along the walls of the hallway. Haru disregarded them for now in favor of giving his (unfortunate) partner an exhausted glare.

“What do you want?” Haru sniffled. He inwardly cursed himself for sounding so congested and pathetic in front of the other man.

“That’s an idiotic question.” Daisuke said, obviously amused as he glanced down at all the packages around him. “I come bearing gifts for the ill.”

Haru gritted his teeth, wrapping his blanket around himself tighter. “I didn’t ask for charity, you can leave now. Take your stuff with you.”

Daisuke sighed and stepped into the apartment, carrying in a couple boxes of medicine and placing them on the kitchen counter.

“This is breaking and entering,” Haru said hoarsely, being as loud as he could without straining his voice too much. “A crime, Kambe.”

“Do you have a high fever?” Daisuke asked, ripping open a box and digging through it.

Haru huffed, giving one last look at all the boxes in the hallways before shuffling over to the inspector. “A little. I guess I don’t have a thermo—MMF!”

Haru gave another glare at Daisuke as a brand new, seemingly expensive thermometer got shoved into his mouth.

“Kambe—” he started, but was immediately hushed.

“Don’t talk.” Daisuke grunted, pressing a button on the device.

Haru frowned, looking down cross eyed at the thermometer as he waited for the beep. His partner stood in front of him the whole time, watching the numbers flicker on the screen intently. Haru couldn’t quite understand why he was even here or why he even bothered.

Finally, the beeps snapped Haru out of the trance he didn’t even remember being in.

Moving to take the thermometer out himself, Daisuke beat him to it, reading the numbers under his breath. “38° Celsius… 101° Fahrenheit.”

“Why’d you have to say both?” Haru grumbled, bundling himself more in his blanket, almost like a turtle retreating into his shell.

“These capsules should help.” Daisuke continued, popping two gel pills into Haru’s hand. “Where do you keep your glassware?”

Haru stares at the pills dumbfoundedly before giving him an incredulous look. “Bet you think I have a fancy crystal glass collection or a cabinet full of china.” He rolled his eyes, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a plastic cup from beside the sink, filling it up.

Daisuke watched silently as Haru downed the two pills one by one, smiling slightly as a disgusted look made its way onto his face.

“Why are you even here?” Haru mumbled, placing the cup down on the counter and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Usually it’s Shinnosuke that comes here… and when it is him he arrives super late in the day. What time is it?”

Haru didn’t wait for a response before continuing.

“It’s still within your work hours right now. You should be back at the offices,” he rolled his eyes, stepping over to Daisuke with a stern stare. “Maybe be a decent human being and do my paperwork for a change.”

“Not necessary. My task was to make sure you were doing alright and to provide you with medicine.” Daisuke said dismissively. “And I already did the paperwork. It wasn’t that difficult.”

Haru narrowed his eyes even further before turning away. “Well then. You did what you needed to do. So leave.”

Daisuke hummed, a coy smile making its way into his lips. “Go to bed first. And then I’ll leave.”

Haru spun around to argue but immediately regretted the action as he was struck with a sudden wave of dizziness. “F-Fine… fine. Whatever.” He groaned, holding his head as he waddled off towards his bedroom. “See yourself out…. bastard…”

Daisuke chuckled at the lame attempt at insults and moved towards the front door. “So I shall…” he said, mostly to himself, “after I bring in all these boxes of course.”

***

“Dude you should take another day off,” Shinnosuke said, holding back a snort as Haru sat down at his desk. “You look… bad.”

“Thanks for putting it so nicely…” Haru grumbled sarcastically, “Besides, it’s not good to miss two days of work in a row. Not by my standards at least… I know you like to take whole vacations just for allergies.”

Shinnosuke grinned, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “I’m being safe.”

Haru rolled his eyes, but gave a friendly little smile nonetheless.

“Soooo….” Shinnosuke started, “I know Kambe went over to your place yesterday. How’d that go?”

Haru, pauses in sorting his papers to look at the doorway of the office, paying attention to whether or not the man in question would saunter into the room. “Well… it was weird. But everything with Kambe is weird.” He huffed, rubbing his eye, “He just sorta arrived at my door with boxes upon boxes of medicine. And get this, he shoved a thermometer into my mouth. No consent!”

Shinnosuke chuckled, not even making an attempt to speak up.

“And not to mention he just fuckin’... walked into my home without even asking if he could come in. And—And all the boxes? When I woke up they were stacked up all over my apartment.”

“Almost like he feels at home huh?” The blonde chirped, looking way too smug for his own good.

Haru gasped, clearly offended by the assumption. “No! No way! Kambe is just—”

He froze as a hand suddenly placed itself on his forehead, attached to a smirking Daisuke that was enjoying the show. “Hello inspector Katou... you still feel warm.”

Haru blinked a couple times as he looked up at the other inspector before shrieking and jumping out of the chair. “Don’t— touch —don’t do that!”

“Why not?” The other replied, clearly enjoying whatever show Haru was putting on.

“Severe invasion of space. What’s with you and getting up in my business?”

“Says the one who showed up at my house uninvited.”

“I didn’t know it was your—”

“—You two…” Chief Yukihiro spoke up a bit timidly, unsure how to correctly split up one of their many quarrels.

“Yes sir?” Haru snapped to attention, leaving Daisuke to continue to stare at him.

“I don’t mean to break up your conversation but Kambe is present, I need you two to head downtown. Kambe should be aware of the suspicious activity going on down by the river banks, so he can fill you in, Kato.” The chief continued, shuffling over to hand Haru a case file. “I know you just got off a sick day, I hope this isn’t too much to ask of you.”

Haru smiled down at the papers before giving an eager shake of the head. “No! No, I'm fine. Thank you for the job.”

Daisuke frowned, watching as his partner bowed in gratitude before walking out the door. Something just didn’t sit well in his stomach.

“You care for his well being.” Chief Yukihiro smiles kindly, speaking as if it were a fact. “Haru is quick to bounce back so you needn’t worry.”

“Even so,” Daisuke’s frown deepened before turning towards the door, “that doesn’t stop him from being careless.”

#daiharu #daisuke kambe #kambe daisuke #haru katou #haru kato #katou haru #kato haru #fkbu #fugou keji #fugou keiji balance: unlimited #My writing #daiharu one shot #ao3 #archive of our own #daisuke x haru #haru x daisuke #daiharu fic

56 notes · View notes

moonbeambucky · 5 years ago

Text

Winter WonderLance

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2354 Warnings: fluff

Summary: The Tuckers are in for a beautiful sight as they spend winter in the glistening snow of New York

“Bye bye Florida!”

You waved your hands at the small window of the airplane as your children excitedly copied you.

Warm weather and palm trees would soon be traded for the bitter chill of barren, snow-covered branches that line the busy streets of New York. Ariel and Theodore were eager to go on their first airplane ride. Unfortunately, the real experience was less than exciting.

Despite pre-boarding bathroom visits Ariel needed to go again just as the plane was navigating towards the runaway. She bounced in her seat as you begged for her to hold it, hoping for a quick take off so you could fly towards the bathroom.

It didn’t help that she insisted her mommy take her, despite your focus on attempting to try and calm a very upset Theo.

In all your travels you never gave much thought to parents flying with children. Noise blocking headphones were a lifesaver as you worked on your laptop, unaware of the frustration they were going through.

“It’s okay Theo. Yawn, like this.”

You tried to show him how in an effort to help with the pressure in his ears but he wasn’t having it. Trying to reason with an agitated near-three year old was futile.

Over your shoulder you turned your head towards Lance, sitting in the aisle seat beside you. You couldn’t help the pout your lips formed, an expression of the mental exhaustion to come considering you had barely left Florida.

Your hands swept across Theo’s hair as you tried to get him to lean into you but he was not having it, frustratedly kicking his legs against the back of the seat in front of him. You offered an apology to the young man that turned around glaring at your son, fighting back your urge to punch his childless self in the face. Now you had all the sympathy in the world for what parents go through.

When the plane had finally evened out its course you asked Lance to sit beside Theo as you took Ariel.

“C’mere buddy.” Lance tried his best to hold a very fussy Theo against him and rocking to soothe the discomfort in his ears.

Obviously it didn’t work as you heard Theo’s cries from inside the cramped bathroom.

Running your hands down your face you let out a frustrated sigh. In another week you would be returning home and you were already worrying about how Theo would handle the flight. But you know you shouldn’t be thinking about this. Your vacation has barely begun and you want to focus on all the fun the kids would be having instead.

You hadn’t been back to New York in a few years. Amidst your previous travels you had dropped by once or twice but they were quick visits, to say hello to colleagues or sign new employment contracts. When you and Lance were deciding on where you should travel during the winter break you wanted to go all out and give the kids a new experience, and snow was certainly something new!

After washing your hands along with Ariel, you found your way back to your row, guided by the sound of Theo’s sobs.

“I think he wants you,” Lance sighed, upset he hadn’t been able to make progress in calming Theodore.

“Daddy sit next to me!” Ariel exclaimed, bouncing as she squeezed past him to get to her seat by the window.

After a bit of musical chairs, with Lance now sitting in between you and Ariel, and Theo back in your arms, you sat up a little straighter, determined to at least stop Theo from crying.

Lance’s attention was taken by Ariel who pulled out her bright LeapFrog learning tablet from your bag so they could read together. Sticking out from the corner of your bag was something you had forgotten about, the most beautiful sight that would help save you and Theo for the rest of the flight, goldfish crackers.

Asking Ariel to get them for you, Lance opened the package and suddenly a tiny smile pulled at the corner of Theo’s mouth as you offered one to him. Whether it was the crunching that helped or Theo was distracted by food you really didn’t care but thankfully the crying stopped.

Finally, Theo was calm as he picked goldfish out of your palm. With Lance’s assistance you were able to find a movie for Theo to watch, an animated one you could recite by heart thanks to the amount of times the kids have watched it.

The rest of the ride went mostly smooth until it was time to prepare for landing. Ariel whined, wanting her dad to still sit next to her. Theo whined when you put him back in his seat, wanting to stay on your lap, and you and Lance smiled exhaustedly, holding back your own whines because you really want to take a nap.

Juggling two young children was a hassle, especially trying to keep their hats and scarves bundled on, and making sure Ariel didn’t forget Teddy in the taxi because she insisted on bringing him along.

“Teddy will be sad if we left him home alone.” You tried to reason that Teddy needed to stay home so he could watch the house while you were gone. “But that’s Oinky’s job.” Oh, of course, your mistake.

By the time you reached your hotel you got your wish. Theo went down easy after the cry he had and Ariel tried to fight the way her lids were shutting; for your own sake you were happy she lost.

Nuzzled against Lance’s chest, you felt his lips against your forehead before you fell asleep, waking up reenergizing to really begin your vacation.

“Mmmm how I missed you,” you purred sensually, gently caressing the thing you longed for the most in your hand, opening your mouth with wanton need.

Lance chuckled, shaking his head. “Mommy’s silly, right?” he said to Ariel and Theo as you bit into your slice of pizza.

Maybe your kids can’t appreciate just how delicious New York pizza is compared to what’s available at home but you can and will, savoring every bite as if it was the last time you would taste the magical combination of cheese, sauce and dough.

Your phone buzzed on the table and quickly moving your half chewed food to the other side of your mouth you answered the call.

“Hi! Yes. Okay, we’ll see you soon.”

Your boss Sue was stopping by, coming from the ESPN offices a few blocks away. She wanted to say hello while you were in town and meet the kids for the first time as she had only seen them in the pictures you’ve sent. Despite loving your job you were not going to parade the kids and Lance around the office in front of eager reporters hungry for any story.

A tingle of bad memories ran down your spine but you quickly brushed it off, focusing instead on the happily smiles surrounding you.

“Daddy, ca’ I have a napkin?” Theo asked, placing the large slice down on his plate.

While watching the meticulous way his little hands worked to clean off sauce you heard an enthusiastic voice call your name out. Standing up, you turned to face Sue, wrapping your arms around the heavy coat that seemed to swallow her up.

Lance greeted her as well, pulling up a chair at the end of the booth for her to join.

Sue placed her hands against her cheeks as she smiled at your children. “Look at how big they’ve gotten!”

“Ariel, Theodore, this is my friend Susan. Do you want to say hi?”

“Hi!” Theo said with a mouthful of food. Ariel’s greeting was a bit softer as she nuzzled against her Dad feeling a little shy.

“They’re beautiful,” she said, shrugging off her coat. She wasn’t going to stay long but the heavy material was too much to bear indoors.

With some coaxing from you and Lance, Ariel opened up a bit as she and Theo told Sue all the things they’ve done so far on their vacation.

“And we saw a big tree!” Ariel stretched her arms high above her head. “It had pretty lights and a really pretty star.”

“And it was bigger than the whole world!” Theo exclaimed.

Sue’s mouth dropped open in shock. “No way! Bigger than the whole world!?” Theo nodded as he used both hands to grab his drink.

“What was your favorite thing you’ve seen so far?” Sue asked.

“Ummm, I liked the carousel!” Ariel beamed. The SeaGlass carousel in Battery Park was a favorite of yours as well.

“And who did we wave to that was near the carousel?” Lance asked, testing his children’s memory.

Ariel concentrated as she thought and Theo honestly didn’t bother to think but you snuck him the answer anyway.

“Sta-choot of Liberty!” he giggled.

You and Lance also took the kids to a children’s museum, to the top of the Empire State Building and tonight you were surprising them with tickets to see The Lion King on Broadway.

After saying goodbye to Sue and finishing lunch, you stopped in at FAO Schwarz. The kids were mesmerized by the toy store and the giant plush animals that surrounded them but secretly Lance had been dying to visit so he could play on the giant floor piano from Big.

It wasn’t much of a secret, not by the way he practically ran towards the line that was formed beside it. Twenty long minutes were spent waiting and during that time you had to convince Lance that he needed to share the piano with Ariel and Theo.

Your phone recorded every moment of giggling joy as Lance bounced on the keys that lit with bright colors as he played “Chopsticks” accompanied by random musical notes as Ariel and Theo ran across the piano.

“You were amazing!” you said, planting a kiss on Ariel and Theo’s cheeks as you and Lance helped them back into their winter coats. “And you were adorable,” you cooed, pressing a sweet kiss on Lance’s lips, feeling him smile against you.

Central Park was covered in a blanket of white, a crystalline landscape of snow that glittered in the sunlight.

It was the day before you had to leave and you wanted to make the most of the freshly fallen weather. Bundled in layers, wrapped with scarves and thick gloves, you ventured out to play in the winter wonderland.

“Let’s make a snowman!” Ariel declared.

You helped her gather the soft powder snow in a ball, rolling it along the unblemished landscape for it to grow larger. Lance and Theo were doing the same, sort of.

Theo scooped up as much snow as his gloves could carry and he dropped them down onto the base Lance was attempting to form. Theo smiled as the soft flurries sprinkled to the ground. Lance crouched down, trying to show him a better way to do it as he attempted to pack more snow into the pile but Theo didn’t care.

“No, it’s this way,” he insisted, looking for the perfect patch of snow to scoop up and bring over.

His excitement may have gotten the best of him as Theo threw the snow down haphazardly, getting more than half on his dad. Lance wiped the wetness of his face against the sleeve of his coat. Another shock of cold came as Theo did it again happily “building” his snowman.

“Daddy look how big we made it!” Ariel huffed as the both of you rolled the large ball of snow back towards Lance and Theo.

“Wow Starfish that’s grea– ” Lance muffled his words as Theo excitedly threw down another pile of snow, doing so once again with terrible aim.

“Theo! Did you just throw snow at your daddy?”

He froze, cautiously shaking his head back and forth in case you were upset.

“C’mere Pumpkin,” you called to him.

You scooped up a small handful of snow, pressing it together into a ball and placing it in Theo’s palm. Quickly you scooped another ball for yourself.

“This is how you throw a snowball.”

Winding your arm back, you aimed and threw the ball hitting Lance in the back as he was working on the snowman.

“Hey!” he yelped in surprise.

Theo threw his that hit Lance’s leg. Ariel abandoned her snowman in favor of joining the snowball fight.

“Three against one isn’t fair!” he shouted, trying to dodge the attack.

Lance retaliated, mainly aiming for you as you laughed, running around with Ariel and Theo beside you. His cheeks were bright red as he chased you, blowing visible breaths while playfully yelling, “I’m gonna get you!”

Taking cover behind a tree you quickly bent down to make snowballs for Theo as Ariel made her own, slowly creeping around the tree to throw them at Lance but he wasn’t there. Then you felt it; the close range hit of a snowball on your backside.

The shock made you scream, and a few more rapid fire hits had you stumbling. Reaching your arm back to rub your icy buns you called for a truce and Lance dropped his frozen ammo. Ariel and Theo threw their remaining snowballs at their dad, ignoring the armistice.

“Ow!” you laughed, still rubbing your backside. Lance offered a hand for you to stand up. “I’m definitely going to have a bruise thanks to you.”

“I’ll be happy to kiss it better,” he smirked. “Now, who wants to make snow angels?!”

“Me! Me! Me!” came the chorus of excited squeals.

The rest of the day was spent inside the hotel, warm and snuggled together while watching movies and having hot chocolate with marshmallows. With Ariel and Theo asleep at your sides Lance leaned down to caress your lips with his in a languid articulation of love.

When he pulled away he smiled, a soft mirror of your own expression. It’s an appreciation for all the memories you’ve made on this trip that now share space in your heart with every moment of your lives together.

#lance tucker x reader #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x you #lance tucker one shot #lance tucker imagine

301 notes · View notes

rosecolouredash · 5 years ago

Note

Blooming flowers surrounded you, calm music filled the near empty flower shop. You stood behind the counter, old register and a half read novel your only companions for the day. You were used to the slow days, you usually used the alone time to prepare arrangements, design bouquets and daydream in pastel colors. You couldn’t help but get carried away, inventing back stories for customers, expanding on stories they shared. Each bouquet had meaning. (1/9)

Every flower was chosen with care. You tapped a pencil to your novel and nearly got taken away by your thoughts but the bell above the door broke the almost reverie. Your attention cut to the front of the shop, a patron in an athletic sweatshirt stumbled through the door, honey curls tumbling into hazel eyes that searched the shop helplessly. You could tell he was lost among the flowers, a quietly frantic demeanor clinging to him. You rounded the counter, knowing he was in need of help. (2/9)

“Can I help you?” You asked as his eyes found yours immediately. He nodded and let out a sigh of relief. “I need flowers.” You giggled. “Lucky you came to the right place. Anything in particular you’re looking for?” You asked as a small tint of a blush captured his cheeks around a smile. “Something for my mom.” You nodded and couldn’t help but notice the dimples that deepened with his smile. “I think I’ve got just the bouquet for you. Wait here.” You headed for the back. (3/9)

It only took a moment to procure the perfect bouquet—having just made it that day. You came back out to be met with the customer waiting at the counter. One hand rested on the counter while the other searched his sweatshirt pocket. You recognized the logo on his chest, the local hockey team adorning his apparel. You wondered if he played, keeping his athletic build in mind. You were curious about him, but not in the same ways as other customers. You were curious about the real him. (4/9)

You had no desire to make up a story for him in the ways you did other passing customers. He eyed the bouquet and nodded approvingly. “I think she’ll love it.” His voice was soft and sincere and though you didn’t even know his name yet you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You rang him up and wished him and his mom well—whatever the occasion for the flowers—all the while wondering if you’d ever see him again. Knowing that you wanted to know his story. The real one. (5/9)

The next day brought thoughts of him back to you. But you waved them away, knowing it was better to let a stranger go than conjure a thousand what ifs and what could have beens. It was another slow day, you were just about to lose yourself in a world of someone else’s words when the bell gave off an echoing ding. He was back and wore a sheepish expression. You greeted him warmly, another flutter of excitement coursing through you. He approached the counter with uneven steps. (6/9)

“I wanted to thank you for the flowers. My mom loved them.” He said and your heart soared. For as many customers as you’d helped he was the first to come back with a thank you. “It’s no problem.” You replied and waved nonchalantly. “Kinda my job.” He laughed and the room brightened. “I think I also forgot something yesterday.” He said, taking you by surprise. You weren’t sure what he was talking about, positive that if he left something behind you would have noticed. You arched an eyebrow. (7/9)

“And what might that be?” You wondered aloud. He gave a playful shrug before answering. “To properly introduce myself. I’m Ashton.” You then told him your name and he leaned forward, elbows propped on the counter as he took a breath. In the moment of silence that ensued you got lost in hazel and had to pull yourself back when he began speaking again. “And one more thing.” You held your breath as he paused once more and clapped a hand to the back of his neck. He blushed a lovely pink. (8/9)

“Do you think I could get your number? Maybe take you out sometime?” ….. and the rest is up to you Ro, ily most x infinity 🤍 (9/9)—

The Timberwolves coach blew his whistle one final time to signal the end of hockey practice. As most of the team began to skate off the ice, some complaining of the soreness they’d feel tomorrow, Michael paused at the opening in the boards, transfixed with something in the stands—or rather someone.

You were bundled up—your cozy attire appropriate for the cool temperature of the arena. With an elbow propped on your knee and your chin in hand, you were focused on the new novel in front of you, one you recently started—completely unaware of the boy’s gaze.

“What’s up, Mike?”

Calum followed his friend’s gaze. He didn’t recognize you but apparently you recognized their captain. As Luke joined their little viewing party, you had stopped reading—your attention now focused on the ice. They realized that Ashton was the last one skating as he picked up the stray pylons around the rink that were used for drills during practice. When Michael looked back up to you, he noticed the small smile that graced your lips. You returned to your book when the honey-haired boy skated up to his linemates and best friends.

“Hey, thanks for waiting. Now, you can help me put these away.” They groaned, each taking a couple of the fluorescent orange cones from their captain’s grasp, and headed towards the storage room—their questions of you being answered when they exited the locker rooms, after hitting the showers and getting changed.

As the four boys left, Ashton made a beeline towards you, waiting at the entrance of the arena. They watched with interest as the two of you chatted when you suddenly presented a package, wrapped in brown paper, from your bag and gave it to their captain. Ashton grinned and thanked you. He then motioned to his teammates and you walked over.

“Who’s this?” Luke gestured to you as you flushed at his curious gaze.

Ashton introduced you to the three boys, stating you were the reason his mother anticipated fresh flora in their home every so often. The boys then realized that the package Ashton gently held in his grasp was one of your custom bouquets. He added no more to your introduction and the three boys had to resist lifting a brow. So, you were just a florist? Making some sort of house call? But why had you watched their practice and waited when you could have delivered the flowers to the Irwin abode yourself?

As you all walked outside towards the parking lot, Michael, Calum, and Luke trailed a way’s behind both you and Ashton.

“Do you think that’s—” Calum jumped a little at Michael’s whisper right up against his ear.

“But he never said…” As far as Calum was concerned, your relationship with his captain was strictly business. Ashton would have shared with them, or at least he, if you two were anything more than platonic...wouldn’t he? Albeit, he was pretty private about those kinds of things.

Luke smiled, giving his two cents on the situation. “They have to be together—just look at how they’re acting.”

Calum and Michael looked ahead, at the two of you, taking note at the warm gaze you held with Ashton. Their captain in return, matched your gaze, while hanging onto each and every word that you spoke. Maybe there was some truth to Luke’s words but Calum was still not fully convinced.

“Wanna bet?” Both Michael and Luke finished shaking hands when you and Ashton turned around.

Their captain told them to go on ahead as he wanted to walk you back to your car. You smiled at that and then waved at the boys. “It was nice meeting you!”

They returned the gesture and bid you farewell as you and Ashton turned, opposite to the boys, and walked in the direction of your parked vehicle.

Michael and Calum began to walk again when Luke suddenly snickered. “I knew it! Pay up, Clifford.” The two paused, turning their heads and looked towards you and Ashton.

“Huh, I guess you were right.” Calum hummed, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he smiled at the sight while Michael grumbled and searched for his wallet in his duffel bag.

Ashton must have pulled at a flower from the bouquet he held because you were now sporting one—its small stem tucked behind your ear. The dead giveaway, however, was how close your bodies were in proximity to one another as you walked.

Not to mention how both your fingers were perfectly laced together.

#rose gets asked #ro writes #i love you most eve #i know we’re all thirsting over ash currently #but always love being soft for the boy too #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin one shot #when soulmates attack #5sos imagine #5sos one shot #hockey!ashton #Hockey AU

71 notes · View notes

xiolaperry · 4 years ago

Text

The Piano - Chapter 14

Summary: Belle French and her daughter arrive in New Zealand to an arranged marriage with Gaston LeGume. Gaston shows little interest in her or her piano and books. However, Mr. Gold is fascinated… (Rumbelling of the 1993 film “The Piano”)

Rating: E for smut, dark subject matter and violence.

Also on AO3

Gold leapt off his horse, not taking the time to grab his cane. Granny took it for him, and followed as he limped up the steps. Tilly was huddled in the corner, her arms wrapped around her legs. She wailed when she saw him. He dropped to the floor next to her and stroked her hair.

“What's happened? Are you hurt? Where's your mother?”

Unable to speak through her crying, she handed him the bloodstained package.

How could something that small look so ominous? Whatever it was, it had caused Tilly great distress. Hands shaking, he undid the ribbon. Blue, like Belle's eyes. The bundle opened. Horrified, he jerked backwards with such force that he hit his head on the wall. His stomach heaved and spots danced before his eyes. It fell from his numb fingers and rolled on the floor.

Granny let out a small shriek before she composed herself and grabbed it to remove the tragedy from Tilly's view.

The terrible sight of Belle's tiny finger and the urgency of the message she needed to deliver gave Tilly her words back.

“You cannot see her again or he'll chop her to pieces! I was supposed to bring you the piano key, but Gaston sent this instead!”

Gold knelt in front of Tilly, grabbing her by the shoulders, desperate for information. “Gaston did this? I'll kill him. Where is your mother!?”

Tilly's shriek, long and high-pitched, hurt his ears. She could form no thoughts to answer. Granny intervened.

“Gold, stop. You're making it worse. She's just a little girl and you're scaring her.”

Grabbing his cane, he got to his feet, incandescent with rage. He spun his cane around and swung the gold handle down on the porcelain washbowl and pitcher. White fragments exploded, crunching underfoot as he lunged toward the mirror. He smashed it before it showed him his reflection and continued beating on it until only shards remained. Blazing, white-hot fury consumed him, and he felt as though he were watching himself from a great distance.

A hand clutched his arm, and he jerked around, ready to strike.

“Gold, enough! Think of Tilly, she doesn't need to see this.”

“It will never be enough! Not until I crush his skull.” He hurled a plate across the room and it shattered against the wall with an unsatisfying crash. He needed to hear Gaston's bones shatter. Yes, that would be better. He'd kill him. Now.

Tilly flung herself on him, wrapping her arms around one leg and halting his exit. “You can't go there, please! Gaston might kill my mother, he said he'd cut another finger off if you saw her again!”

Gold punched the wall in frustration. Tilly's eyes, swollen from crying, pleaded with him. It was enough to bring him back to himself. The child was right, going there now was a terrible idea. He took Tilly over to the rocking chair and gathered her into his lap.

“We'll both stay here,” he said, keeping his voice calm with significant effort. Taking care of Tilly would come first, then he would plan Gaston's demise. “Granny will make us something nice to drink. Maybe some hot chocolate? How does that sound?”

Granny sagged with relief. Had Gold gone there now, there was no doubt this night would have ended with Gaston's death. As much as she would have enjoyed that, the rational part of her knew it would create more trouble. Otherwise, she'd be heading there herself to shoot him with her crossbow.

The rhythmic movement and creaking of the chair soothed Tilly. He hummed her a lullaby, plucked from a distant memory of one his auntie used to sing. It had always made him feel better when she sang to him when he'd waken up from a nightmare.

Granny brought two steaming mugs over, placing them within his reach.

“Thank you.”

“It's the least I could do.”

“We'll be all right now.”

“You promise not to go over there tonight?”

“Daisy, I give you my word.”

“Daisy. There's a name I haven't heard in a long time. No, that's a young girl’s name, I'm Granny now. Your word is good enough for me. I'll take care of your horse, then I'll get David Nolan to check on the situation. I'll come back here first thing in the morning.”

Gold could always trust Granny to keep her head and take sensible action. He nodded, then sat Tilly up. “Drink this, you'll feel better.”

Tilly took small sips from the cup he held for her. After she finished, she began to weep.

“It's my fault. Mama told me to bring you the package, but I took it to Gaston instead. I thought he'd be happy that I listened! But when he saw the piano key, he was so mad. It's all my fault.”

Gold turned Tilly around so he could look directly into her eyes. The emotional damage done to her was enormous. He must be very careful with Belle's child; this conversation could break her further, or help her begin to heal.

“No, Tilly. This is not your fault. What happened to your mother is Gaston's fault. You are just a little girl, and you only did what you thought was best. He is an adult, and he is the one responsible.”

“She'll hate me.”

He hugged her. “Oh, precious lass, your mother could never hate you. She loves you so much and that will never change. She loves you more than anything else in the world. Anyone can see that.”

“But I called Gaston 'Papa', I wish I didn't. I hate him now.”

“I understand. Every child wants a papa, there's nothing wrong with that. Gaston doesn't deserve to be your Papa. You deserve better.” He hoped very much that someday, he would earn her love and be her Papa.

“I never met my real father.”

“We have something in common, then. I never met my mother.”

“You didn't have a Mama?” asked Tilly, incredulous.

“No, I didn't. But I had two wonderful aunties who gave me all the love I could want, and I turned out just fine.” Many would disagree with that assessment, but that was beside the point. “Now, how about we get you ready for bed?”

“I don't want to go to sleep.”

“I'll make you a deal.” He set Tilly on her feet and got one of his old shirts. “You put this on, and climb into bed. And I'll let Ebony get in with you. She tries to sleep in the bed with me, but I never allow it. Too hot and furry. But just this once, I'll make an exception.”

“You won't leave when I fall asleep?”

“No, I won't. I promise.”

Gold went outside to give her some privacy, and to find the cat. Luck was with him for once, and Ebony came when he called her. He gave her a small piece of jerky and brought her inside. Tilly was in the bed, yawning.

“Here she is, as agreed.” He blew out the candles and put out the lamp. Stretching out next to her on top of the covers, he crossed his arms behind his head. He forced himself not to think of Belle. What she had lost, the repercussions of what that idiot had done. Did Gaston even comprehend what he'd taken from her? No, there wasn't time to cry for that now; he'd mourn what happened later. Now was the time to concentrate and plan. His mind worked through scenarios until he nodded off without realizing it, worn out by the day's events.

Earlier that evening...

Cora and Regina struggled to remove Belle's clothes. The fabric was heavy with mud and rainwater. They resorted to scissors to cut off her sleeves, not wanting to jostle her more than necessary.

“What a dreadful accident.”

“Why was she chopping kindling? There was enough already,” asked Regina. “And where's Tilly?”

Gaston, observing from the corner, shrugged. “She was there when it happened and took off running towards Gold's house. I'm sure she's fine.”

“Of all the callous, uncaring --”

Cora interrupted. “That's not important right now. We need to focus on Gaston's wife. The wound is clean, and the bleeding has stopped. If no fever sets in, she will recover.”

They heard the door open; someone had let themselves in. Gaston tensed, alert. Regina found it suspicious that he reached for his gun.

“Hello?” a voice called out.

Gaston relaxed. “In here, David.”

“What's going on?” he said, entering the room and seeing Cora and Regina with Belle.

“There's been an accident,” answered Cora.

“An accident? Granny told me to come here right away, that Gaston attacked Belle.”

“How ridiculous. Really, you think you'd know better than to listen to Granny.”

“Tilly told her that Gaston chopped her mother's finger off.”

“The child was overwrought after seeing a tragic accident. Nothing more.”

David turned to his friend. “Gaston?”

“It's exactly what she said.”

There was more going on here, David was sure of it. But no one ever contradicted Cora, and he had nothing to back up Granny's story.

“Does that mean Tilly is safe?” asked Regina.

“Yes, Granny left her with Gold. She's upset, but unharmed.”

“I'm glad.” She glared at Gaston, irritated that his step-daughter's well being meant so little to him.

“She'd be safer with a crocodile,” muttered Cora.

“I'll send Mary Margaret over for her tomorrow, I know she'll want to help.”

Cora put on her gloves and asked, “Would you like Regina and I to stay? Or fetch Reverend Hopper?”

“No, thank you. Go home, you can check on us in the morning.”

#the piano #my fic #rumbelle #rumbelle fic

19 notes · View notes

s-horne · 5 years ago

Text

26. Forget-me-nots (do not forget me)

1/ His daddy was often late. It was okay, though, because Tony knew that his daddy had an important job that kept him busy a lot of the time. It wasn’t always fun for Tony, though, even when he was told time and time again that his daddy was very sorry to be missing him again.

And he got told that a lot. It wasn’t rare for his daddy to go for days without seeing him because he was stuck in meetings or out on a business trip in some country Tony couldn’t pronounce. Sometimes it was even weeks, and there was a big time difference that meant Tony would be tucked up in bed and fast asleep before it would be finishing time at his daddy’s work. That’s what Jarvis always said, anyway, and why would Tony not listen to Jarvis?

On those weeks, Jarvis would pull out a big, colourful globe over breakfast and point out random blobs with funny names that Tony giggled about. Apparently, that’s where his daddy was and Tony would beg Jarvis to tell him all about the places.

Some of them had animals that Tony had never, ever seen, not even at the big zoo. When his daddy got home from those trips, he never wanted to tell Tony about what he’d seen, though. He was usually too busy packing for the next place, but it was okay, because that meant that Tony got to watch Jarvis spin the big globe again and learn about somewhere new.

Having a busy daddy also meant that sometimes Tony didn’t get picked up from school on time. When his daddy was actually at home and had been told to pick Tony up, he sometimes forgot. It didn’t happen all the time, but there were days when Tony would be left sitting on a bench outside of school, his little legs swinging through the air as all the other kids waved goodbye and headed home, their hands firmly held by their own mummies and daddies.

It was okay, though, because there were people who were more important than Tony. He got told that often enough; like whenever his lower lip started to wobble when his daddy pushed him out of his big office or when his daddy didn’t have time to look at the colourful drawings he’d done at school of them holding hands in front of their big house. (Tony couldn’t find a nice brown for the bricks because one of the other boys had wanted to use it and their picture had been bigger and took longer to complete, but the red was close enough and Tony had just really wanted his daddy to see it and tell him how good it was. It was okay, though, because Jarvis had smiled at it widely enough for Tony to giggle with pride and even take it home to show his Ana.)

Even when it started to rain some days after the little hand started to move past the number 4 on Tony’s watch and all of Tony’s school-teachers had to lock the doors and go home, it was okay that no one had come to pick Tony up. One of the nice ladies from school was always kind enough to bundle a wet Tony into their car and try and give him a big smile in the rear-view mirror. Tony tried to tell himself that it was okay that his daddy never remembered about him, when his teeth chattered and his wet socks made his toes feel like ice.

His daddy loved him, even if he didn’t know how to show it.

♡♡♡♡♥

2/ Gone. Jarvis was gone. The only person that had ever made Tony feel as though he had a family was gone. Lying in the ground, somewhere deep beneath the earth that Tony stood on.

It was hard to comprehend. Every memory that Tony had seemed to have Jarvis in there, in one way or another. It didn’t seem real that he wouldn’t be in any more for the years to come.

Jarvis hadn’t even seemed that old. Tony supposed that he must have been, but he was always so youthful in Tony’s eyes. Maybe that was because he was forever running around after a mischievous Tony and that was bound to keep someone young and fit.

Who was going to chase after him now? There would be no pushback when Tony stole a fresh cookie from the cooling rack, or no playful eye rolls when Tony ‘borrowed’ Jarvis’s apron for his experiments. It wasn’t a nice thought.

The funeral was small, at least in comparison to others Tony had attended. That was another thing that didn’t make sense to Tony’s dazed mind. Jarvis was one of the best people Tony had ever met. There had been more people at the funeral of some Great-Uncle from Italy that Tony hadn’t ever seen outside of his own, bachelor-style apartment in New York than there were at Jarvis’s funeral. Why weren’t there more people mourning? Didn’t everyone know what a brilliant and wonderful man Jarvis had been?

Why was Tony standing alone?

“Hey, buttercup.” Tony didn’t turn to see the woman at his side, though he sagged into the arm that was wrapped around his waist. “Thanks for coming.”

Tony swallowed. “Was he… did – was he wearing his apron?”

Ana let out a wet laugh and squeezed Tony a bit tighter. “Don’t think so.”

There was a moment of silence before Ana dropped her head down onto Tony’s shoulder and pressed a light kiss to his thick blazer. “He spoke of you, you know. Right at the very end. Told me to take care of you, told me that he lo–”

“Don’t.” Tony shook his head once. His vision was suddenly blurry and he blinked in quick succession, trying to fix his eyes on a small weed springing up between two paving stones.

Ironic, really. If Jarvis had seen that, he’d have dived on it immediately. No place for weeds, he used to say to a young Tony dancing around in the garden, they only spread and twist. Ugly things, young Sir. No place for them in your garden.

“But he did,” Ana whispered. “You were the reason he stayed. For you, my lelkem.”

It should have made Tony’s heart warm, but all it did was remind Tony that he was the reason Jarvis had stayed in a house full of alcohol and screaming and anger. Had put up with the long hours and the constant yelling and the whining, crying child that was just desperate for someone to please play for just one minute, or please take a second to look at a picture of a crude stick figure holding a pretty flower.

But there would be no more playing and no more admiring of pictures. Because Jarvis was gone, and Ana had no reason to stick around any longer.

Tony would be sent back to boarding school and communication with his parents would only dwindle without Jarvis there to force a weekly phone call. There’d be no care packages, no photographs of Jarvis’s blooming garden. There’d be no freshly-baked lemon squares for when Tony got home and no more hugs that made Tony feel as though he was literally being stitched back together.

At that point, Tony would even take a bedtime story if it just meant that he could feel Jarvis next to him for five more minutes. But that was impossible and, soon, Tony would be forgotten again.

Taking a deep breath and turning slightly, Tony returned Ana’s hug and pressed his own kiss to her head. He let his eyes fall shut as he held her, wishing her nothing but the best for wherever she ended up. Tony had forced his parents to set aside money for Jarvis’s retirement – and wasn’t that a kick in the head – and he knew that he would find some way to push that down to Ana. He had to.

He had to for Jarvis.

“Take care,” Tony murmured, voice barely audible above her gentle cries, “mama.”

♡♡♡♥♥

3/ Tony had never really understood the appeal of Christmas. Sure, it sounded like a good time and the movies always painted it as an idyllic season, but Tony had never gotten it.

Maybe it was the way that it always seemed too perfect. Nothing was ever perfect.

Tony had been taught that sad fact from an early age. As a scientist, his father had told him to question everything and to always expect an explosion. It didn’t seem possible that Christmas was going to be this unbelievable, amazing time filled with love and laughter and overindulgence where nothing could ever go wrong and nobody was ever anything but happy.

Especially not when he was left alone in a scarily large house with not a single decoration to be seen. Not that anyone knew where they were kept. Without Jarvis there to fetch them out of hiding and take charge of putting them up, the Stark mansion stayed in its own, festive-less bubble.

“Darling, you knew we were vacationing in Italy for the next month,” Maria crooned into Tony’s ear. “I wrote it in your last letter. It’s too cold in New York for your father.”

Right. The last letter. The one that had been sent only days before Tony had left school and had been redirected back to their mansion, arriving at exactly the same time as Tony had. The news that Tony’s parents would be spending the entire month of December in a different country had met Tony on the doorstep of the empty and unwelcoming house.

“No, mom,” Tony said, moodily kicking at the bottom stair, the marble cold even through his sock. “I know. I just thought, because of it being Chris–”

“Maria! Maria, we have to leave. The car is here.”

Even through the phone, Howard’s voice was loud and demanding. Tony winced despite himself, utterly hating his reaction but not being strong enough to stop it. It wasn’t a problem that Howard wouldn’t be there for Tony’s school break, but he had missed his mother something fierce. He’d been weirdly looking forward to seeing her, even if it would have been short snippets between parties and galas. It would have at least been something.

“Darling, I have to go. You can come out, okay? I’ll send a–”

“No, mom.” Tony sighed deeply and ran his fingers over the leaves of a fake plant sitting on a plinth next to the downstairs phone. He’d always hated the thing, but for some reason it was suddenly drawing him in.

Maybe because it was still there. A constant, when everything else had changed. Or moved on.

“I have school work,” he said as neutrally as he could. “And I go back right after New Year. I just thought you would be–”

“Maria!”

Tony flinched violently and nearly knocked the damn plant to the floor.

“Sorry, darling, I really have to go. It’s the Anderson’s Charity Gala tonight. You know, there are that many events in December, I can hardly keep up. I always wondered why so many people chose to hold their parties in December; isn’t it funny? Anyway, are you sure you won’t come?”

Typical. Tony wanted to scream. The world and his wife knew why the parties were always held in December, and yet Maria hadn’t joined the dots. It seemed that without Jarvis there to buy a tree and force Maria to take notice of the change of season with garlands and lights covering her house, she walked around with her eyes closed.

“No, mom,” Tony replied dutifully, the words spilling from his mouth without much thought at that point. He felt like a broken record player. Or a robot. “Enjoy yourself.”

His answer was a kissing sound followed by a dial tone. He let the phone fall from his hand, watching it swing from its long chord instead of replacing it in its cradle. It wasn’t as though she would call again anyway, and Tony didn’t feel like speaking to anyone else. It would be quiet through to New Year.

Tony’s shoulders slumped and he dropped down onto the floor, back against the wall as he looked around the bleak entranceway that was bare of anything remotely homey, never mind Christmassy.

He sighed and resigned himself to his fate. Takeout and a bit of peace and quiet. Things could be worse, he tried to tell himself when his throat grew tight.

“Merry Christmas, mom.”

♡♡♥♥♥

4/ "That’s so cool.”

Tony to smile at the awe in Rhodey’s voice. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said, his own voice flatter than it should have been given the topic of discussion.

“I can’t believe you’re going to spend Thanksgiving in France, of all places.”

“Mhm.” Tony looked down and pretended that he was concentrating deeply on deciding what band t-shirts he should throw in his duffle. “Dad’s got some big country estate there. They don’t even celebrate Thanksgiving in Europe, but it’s something of a tradition.”

“Wow.” Rhodey huffed a breath of air and Tony watched out of the corner of his eye as he flopped back onto his bed and grinned up at the ceiling. “I wish I could vacation in France every year. You’re gonna have such a great time. Don’t forget about me, will you? I want at least one picture a day.”

It took all of Tony’s willpower and continuing desperation to be seen as cool to not mutter something ridiculous about not ever being able to forget about Rhodey. It wasn’t likely, given that he was the only friend that Tony had ever had.

Instead, he plastered on a cheeky smirk and winked over at Rhodey, who had twisted onto his side to look at him expectantly. “I’ll try not to. But you know what the French ladies are like. Stunning, beautiful, magnifique.”

Rhodey didn’t return his wink, choosing instead to roll his eyes and push himself up to sit on the edge of his bed.

“God, you’re such a child,” he said, even as his tone belied his fondness. He softened a little and dropped his gaze to a slight rip at the bottom of his thick, woollen sweater. “I know we couldn’t possibly compare with the wonders of France, but my folks really want to meet you. If you ever have a spare weekend, or you decide that actually I’m right and that France has nothing on Philly, then you’re welcome to come stay with me, kid.”

Tony wanted to cry. He wanted to drop to his knees on front of Rhodey and bury his head in his lap, just like he used to do with Jarvis when he was little. Rhodey was the big brother that Tony had always wanted, had always longed for. He was someone that actually listened to Tony and remembered the things he said. There was nothing that Tony wanted more in the world than to go home with Rhodey and finally meet the Mama he spoke so highly of.

But that would mean admitting the truth, and Starks always kept their heads high. Even if that meant living a lie.

“Thanks, Rhodes. But there’s a bar in France with a lower drinking age than Massachusetts and it’s crying out to me.”

Rhodey laughed and stood up. “Well then, kid. I’d better get going and I know nothing else I can say will ever rival that. Have the best time.”

Tony looked down the duffel open on his bed and sighed. He stayed quiet as Rhodey finished checking his bags and grabbed his phone, unplugging his charger and throwing it in his jacket pocket.

Finally, he turned to Tony and grinned. “Remember. One photo a day.”

Tony summoned the best, cockiest grin he could and saluted. “Of course. Two if I bag twins.”

With a loud and final laugh, because of course Rhodey knew Tony wasn’t serious about actually doing that, Rhodey left the room, the door slamming loudly behind him as he went. When he was gone, Tony’s entire body slumped and he fell down onto his bed, kicking his duffel to the floor. It wasn’t as though he needed it, after all. He wasn’t going anywhere.

He hadn’t lied to Rhodey – would never lie to James. His parents really did have a house in France and they spent every Thanksgiving there.

They just never thought to invite Tony.

♡♥♥♥♥

5/ It was stupid, really. Tony had always told himself that he was strong. Independent. Bull-headed, Rhodey would say with a grin. Whatever word he was, he certainly wasn’t the sort of person to stand by his phone and check it every three seconds in case he’d missed a notification.

Except, that was exactly what he was doing.

No one could blame him really – or at least that’s what he told himself. After all, it wasn’t every day that one lost their virginity to the captain of the college’s football team, was it? Tony was utterly giddy about it; still riding the high of his first other-person-present orgasm and the idea of actually having a boyfriend for the first time.

Ty was gorgeous. He was a few years older than Tony, having taken a gap year (or two, or three) before completing his degree. He was everything that Tony wasn’t and from the very first moment they’d met, Tony had been smitten.

It had only taken a few drunken kisses at a few loud, crowded, and not-actually-that-fun frat parties before Ty had remembered Tony’s name and asked him on a real date. Though it had all been cleverly engineered by Tony and had been all he’d wanted for a couple of months, Tony had still been shocked. He’d played it off, though, dancing his hand up and down Ty’s arm and batting his eyelashes like he knew what he was doing. Pretending to be cocky and experienced was something that Tony was quite good at; running his tongue over his bottom lip and pressing his thighs into Ty’s were moves he’d learnt from watching escorts at his dad’s galas. The tricks had served him well.

Despite Rhodey’s warnings and Tony’s inexperience, one thing had very quickly led to another between Ty and Tony.

Tony didn’t lift his eyes from his phone when he heard a key turn in the lock and Rhodey shuffle through.

“Still nothing?”

Tony bit his lip, pressing the lock button of his cell again. Just in case the screen hadn’t lit up with the text. It did that sometimes if the lighting wasn’t quite right, because it was very sensitive. That was all.

“I’m sorry, Tones.”

“Don’t be,” Tony said, digging his teeth in even harder. The way he was sitting was starting to get uncomfortable and his thighs were burning. He didn’t have experience to test against, of course, but he wasn’t sure that the feeling was entirely what he was meant to have.

There had also been some blood in his underwear when he’d gone to the toilet around lunchtime. It had been a day and a bit since they’d done it and Tony was still feeling the aches. Was that normal? How was he supposed to know? Surely it wasn’t meant to feel like that every time.

“He said he had practice until late today. Got a game on Saturday. Quite a big one, I think. He said he’d be busy until then. And might stay over – it’s an away match.”

“Okay. I’m sure that’s it.” Rhodey’s voice was soft, understanding. It wasn’t pitying, but Tony still felt the need to turn away. There were a few bumps, the dropping of books onto a hard desk. “Want to go to the dining hall? Taco Tuesday today.”

“You go,” Tony said, not wanting to look up and show Rhodey his watery eyes. He was just being a baby. Ty was going to text him. He’d said so, hadn’t he?

Tony pressed the lock button once more for good measure. “I’m not hungry.”

“Nah, it’s alright Tones.” The bed dipped next to Tony and an arm snaked around his shoulders, a strong body warm next to his. “I can hang out here for a bit. We don’t want to miss anything, do we.”

Tony sniffed.

Ty was going to text. He hadn’t forgotten; he was just busy. He was.

“Right. Thanks.”

“It’s fine, kid. Anytime.”

♥♥♥♥♥

6/ Tony was fed up of seeing midnight. It was becoming a disgustingly common occurrence for Tony to be at work until the early hours of the morning, not crawling into his bed until it was nearly time to be getting up again. The constant repetition of next to no sleep and a manic day was beginning to grate on him, but there wasn’t much he could do to change it. Not when he was trying to make a name for himself in the company and prove that he was a valuable member of staff.

Tony shivered in the cold morning air as he exited the taxi, shoving his wallet back into his pocket with icy hands. The sooner he had a hot shower and dived deep below his covers, the better. He walked up to his apartment almost by muscle memory alone. He was barely awake enough for coherent thoughts, never mind rational thinking, which is why he didn’t question why his front door was unlocked and the lights had been switched back on.

It wasn’t until he walked into his living room that he stopped short and his brain seemed to wake up a little.

Tony’s mouth fell open as he took in the sight before him. The entire living room had been taken over, every flat surface covered with a flameless candle or a bunch of beautiful flowers. Tony’s gaze didn’t linger for long enough to work out what they were before he moved on to seek out the mastermind behind the operation.

And there he was. Steve Rogers. The absolute (and only) love of Tony’s life. He was stood in the middle of the living room, a smart suit made more casual by the absence of a tie and his feet bare, toes curled into Tony’s plush, shag rug. There were yet more flowers clasped in Steve’s hands, a huge bouquet that covered his whole stomach and chest with blooms.

“Welcome home,” Steve said before Tony could get a semi-coherent thought from his brain down to his mouth.

Without tearing his eyes away from Steve’s, Tony dropped his keys somewhere to his left, where he vaguely knew there was a table ready and waiting.

“What are you doing here?”

Steve’s smile was blinding, soft and sweet and gentle and entirely too beautiful for Tony’s heart to not explode. Before Steve could give an answer, Tony continued.

“I said I was going to be working late.” The words leaving his mouth felt distant, sounded quiet. All of Tony’s focus was on the fact that his apartment had been turned into a scene from a cheesy rom-com. And that it wasn’t even as an apology. “We agreed we’d meet tomorrow.”

“We did.” Steve made no move to step closer to Tony, even as he dropped his bouquet down a little and held out his hand. “But I decided that I didn’t want to wait that long. Besides, tomorrow isn’t our anniversary.”

Tony’s heart stuttered. “Today isn’t either. Not now. It’s past midnight. I worked too late.”

Steve shrugged, apparently unbothered by the flaw in his logic. “It’s close enough. We haven’t been to bed yet.”

“You didn’t have to wait up,” Tony said, his feet finally taking him past the threshold.

“I know.” Simple. The words were causal, carefree. It was as if Steve actually meant them. “I wanted to.”

And that was so different to anything Tony had ever known. Tony was used to being a commodity, an afterthought. Even his own family treated him as an inconvenience more than a person.

But there, at one o’clock in the morning, was a man who had transformed Tony’s living room into the most romantic thing Tony had ever seen, all because he hadn’t wanted some stupid day to slip past without a celebration.

Tony didn’t even try to hide emotion he felt, letting his face show what his heart was telling him for once, as he threw himself across the room and into Steve’s waiting arms.

“Happy anniversary.”

Tony squeezed Steve even tighter and kissed his bare collarbone. “Happy anniversary.”

And that was exactly the moment that Tony finally realised he wasn’t going to be forgotten ever again.

362 notes · View notes

intomyshadow · 4 years ago

Text

Meet Mari

Word count: 1600 (3 to 13 minutes) | Rating: T | Story: Into My Shadow

Note: Fantasy races (common and original), magic

Read Dira’s character introduction

Read Noyo’s character introduction

The Blossoming of Year 185: Dawn’s Strike Era

The streets of Garres were like veins, carrying goods and people wherever they needed to go in the city. Sometimes, to places they’d rather not be. Reliable and chaotic, the contradictory way life worked anywhere else. It made the cobblestone streets easy to map in her mind, especially with practice. Anyone could tell the sunbaked almshouse walls from the lofty towers of the governmental district, but only a local could get from one to the other without being late or lost.

Exactly why living in one place for years wasn’t so bad.

Mari knew the routes and schedules of most carriages there. Not to mention basically everyone who kept the city’s blood pumping. Not that any of them really saw her. She was known for her ties to the Union. Only the half-elf who ran their errands and did their chores. Beyond that, she was no more than one of the strangers outside. And it was incredible, the things people let you see and hear when you were invisible.

But if there was one skill she had mastered, it had to be knowing when to wait for the right moment.

The morning mail coach came soaring down the road, and everyone knew they had the run of the road. Stopping one meant paying a fine—even if you did it by mistake. Mari was in a hurry too, poised to hop across the street on the raised steppingstones the moment it went by. She was close enough to feel it rush past, and a small splash from puddles of yesterday’s rain hit her boots. Nothing that wouldn’t dry. Especially if she ran, and she always did.

Her boots barely tapped against each roughly circular stone that kept people above the water, waste, and manure, then she was on the other side. The poor ladies and gentlemen serving the country from its capital couldn’t do that in their fine heeled shoes and fluffy wigs. Their jobs seemed important with all the shouting, but pretty stifling. So long as she did hers to avoid getting yelled at herself, it didn’t matter.

Darting around frantic storeroom maids in the center of the market square, Mari made her way to the weapons and armor marketplace. The heavy smell of molten metal and coal from smithies burned her nostrils before she even saw the magic shops. All the stores there were more like workshops where you could buy goods, not like the tents and stalls of most other places. Maybe the merchants of magical wares didn’t quite belong there, but there they were. No one really wanted to see them while they picked out a new suit before the festival season or resupplied on early summer vegetables and wines.

Pulling the empty satchel up her shoulder, Mari kept her eyes up and stuck close to the wall. The only people around the weapons shops were assistants to the Guard Captain, hunters, and mercenaries. They covered the whole nation’s people: dwarves, elves, people with mixed descent like her, and even the lone chiali now and again. None of them were gifted with patience for anything that didn’t apply to their work, or none that Mari knew. All she had to be was fast and out of their way. She had to move quickly anyway since it would be hot and muggy soon, and Mari wouldn’t be up to as much running.

She ducked into the open rounded doorway of the mages’ goods shop soon enough. Could have done it with her eyes closed, but it was better that she didn’t.

“Hm?” The shopkeep frowned over the counter, glaring down at her from his stool. That sternness was just part of his expression, she learned that shortly after they first met years ago. He was framed by jars of all kinds of magical goods, some open and easy to reach and others sealed and locked on the top shelves behind the front counter. His thick, black moustache with flecks of grey twitched with his ‘tsk’. Fat fingers tied off the thin rope around some gathered stems of faintly glowing thistles that she didn’t recognize. Not yet. The dwarf was no mage, but he knew more than she’d ever forget about magic in the wild—and he liked to remind anyone who came in of that. “Just you, is it?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod, dropping the rolled parchment on the counter. The Union’s crest was emblazoned on the outside beside the ribbon holding it closed—a precaution for all their parchment in case something important was lost, supposedly. “Got the whole Union order here.”

He kept that surprising delicate touch from the flowers when he swept up the scroll, pulling the ribbon loose to unroll it. From habit, he muttered it out loud as his dull blue eyes moved down the list.

That week’s resupply trip called for more of what Mari recognized. No Union storeroom run was complete without basic healing herbs, but this one included various roots and powders to carve into protective sigils on armor and shields. Plus some fake-sounding items like will-‘o-the-wisp dust. Mari read about them in the Union’s in-house library when most people were asleep, and she doubted they gave off anything like dust. If finding your way back to your original spot after getting tricked by a will-‘o-the-wisp only meant following a dust trail, why did people stay lost?

But if the Union mages asked for it, it had to be real. Maybe it wasn’t literal. Like sprigs of baby’s breath.

“The glass is new,” she interrupted his mumbling and pointed to the windows. Usually, just fancy clothes and jewelry stores had glass windows, but they had gotten more common in other shops with decent sales. Having the Union buying through him most of the time would do that for his profits. She heard him stomping down the ladder from his stool while she leaned to check for outside hinges through the window. “Kept the shutters. Smart.”

“Mmhm. Wait here.”

Wait, he said, like it ever took him long. Mari was barely taller than him when she did her first supply run for the Union, and she was amazed at how quickly he measured and packaged everything. While he worked, she put her satchel up on the counter and flipped it open for him just in time for him to nestle the first bag of herbs in.

“Walk gently,” he ordered as he pat down a box of packed powder.

“Understood.”

“Not how you usually dart around here.” He pierced her with another glare, tossing the tired leather flap over her bag to close it.

“Yes, sir.”

“I mean it.” Punctuating that with a calloused fingertip pointed at her, he moved the bag over to her open hands at the counter’s edge.

“I said yes,” she repeated with an uneasy grimace, not sure what else he wanted. Mari raised the shoulder strap over her head for the steadier carrying it obviously needed.

“And this.” Less gently, he brought a package up onto the smooth wooden countertop and pushed it over to her. The wrapping job wasn’t like his usual. No practical plain paper held in place with twine, but deep slate blue paper with thick silver ribbon adorning it. The contents were clearly a book. Mari softened her grimace but didn’t reach for it. In all the years she knew him, he didn’t adorn anything. If someone wanted to get a gift to a member of the Mages’ Union, they wouldn’t go through him and definitely not her. Even a surprise gift would be better off handled by actual delivery people.

“What’s this?”

“For you.” Glancing back down to it and again to him, Mari closed her hand around the strap over her chest. This just got more and more confusing. Who would give her something? Mari didn’t talk to anyone she didn’t have to, so there was no one to send her an unexpected present.

“What for?”

“A gift,” he observed, being his usual blunt self, but without any of the clarity that usually came with it. He must have read something in her glance at the present because he muttered something before offering something she could hear. “If you’ve got your mind set on working at that place ‘til you’re grey, be serious about educating yourself. Before you get killed.”

“Alright,” she asked, as bewildered as ever. No one got a nice shop with glass windows and shutters because they gave out gifts to the spry little stray running tasks for the Union. Still, she picked up the package. It was heavier than she guessed it would be… Probably two books, then. Trading the grimace for a level stare, Mari thanked the stars she was talking to someone who didn’t waste words. “But what’s that to you?”

The long hairs of his moustache ruffled in his scoff as he settled back up onto his stool. Leaning over the counter, he almost looked like he was smirking. “You have a birthday, don’t you?”

“Suppose I do.” Giving him a shrug, she continued her answer. “Not sure when it is, though.”

“In that case, doesn’t matter when you get a present.” Nodding to the book, he scooched back into his seat and reached for another bundle of glowing thistle. “There’s your gift.”

“From?” He quirked an eyebrow, clearly at his limit for questions. She should have figured it was straight from him anyway. There weren’t many people who remembered Mari and her interest in magic. Add in apparently having a reason to present her with a new book… Well, that didn’t leave a lot of choices. “Right. Thanks.”

“Mmhm. Don’t die.”

Want early access to posts like these? Become a patron!

To support the story, you can also tip me on Ko-Fi.

2 notes · View notes

jj-lynn21 · 5 years ago

Text

Santa’s favorite Elf ch 3: Bill Skarsgard & X Reader

Warnings: Angst, teasing,lite smut, lite PDA, innuendo,

Santa’s fav elf ch 1

Santa’s fav elf ch 2

Santa’s fav elf ch 3

Santa’s fav elf ch 4

After what seemed to be an endless amount of takes of you screaming and crying over Santa’s death more each time which even though it wasn’t real takes a true emotional toll, you finally hear those words you have longing for since at least the twenty-sixth take, “It’s a wrap!”. It really hasn’t been all that bad. You did get to chat with Santa between takes as they fixed his bullet ridden bloody suit and they are resetting some camera angles. He even pats his lap for you to sit down.

Santa Bill played it up as you sat there. “Ho Ho Ho. What do you want Santa to give you for Christmas?”

You giggle. “Oh, Santa you can give me what ever you think I deserve.” You lean in to whisper, “I might just be to naughty so maybe all I should get is a spanking.”

Santa chuckled. “Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho. Santa will have to make sure you get that.”

You almost fell off his lap when he he laughted because that fake belly really jiggled. He pulled you back up on his lap.“Be careful my favorite little elf. I don’t want you falling for Santa to hard.”

You giggled more. “I’m trying not to Santa, but you have some beautiful eyes and I loved getting that big package of yours earlier.”

You are talking in a whisper as much as possible since kids are still on set. You keep having to push his hand that isn’t holding you, from going to much under your dress.

Pushing his hand down to your knee you whisper in his ear, “Santa, what are you trying to do?”

Whispering back in your ear Santa replied, “I was just trying to rub up your thigh slowly to get my hand in those panties and…”

Getting up to go back to your mark when told. “Thank you Santa.”

After the day is wrapped the assistant director announces, “The snowstorm has caused a lot of accidents out there, so unless you live with ten or fifteen minutes of set you should probable stay at least over night at a local hotel.”

You whine. “Winter blows. I hate winter.”

Santa laughed, “Now I get the last name. I wasn’t thinking of it like that.” As everyone started going back to holding Santa hugged you. “After you get your stuff together meet me by my trailer. You are staying with me tonight.”

You grinned, “You think about that while I’m getting my things and checking out. I’m not sure you could handle an all nighter with me.”

You walked away. He licks his lips as he watched you go before he headed to make-up and wardrobe to get his Santa suite and beard off. You go to a separate area to turn in your elf outfit. Then you go grab the bag you had another outfit in since you knew the storm was coming and thought you might have to stay over night close by. You were glad you brought extra under garments also since you didn’t know how long you would be snowed in at this filming location.

After you check out with your pay slip of fifteen hours, you bundle up in your coat and hat to head to where Bill’s trail is located. The snow is still coming down and what is drifting outside is up to your calf.

As soon as the bodyguard standing outside the trailer sees you, he opens the door. “Bill will be here shortly. He told me to let you in to stay warm.”

You nodded, “Thank you.”

You take your coat, hat, gloves and scarf off and open the refrigerator. There is bottled water. Coke, Pepsi, spite and a green bottled beverage called Pripps Bla. The green bottle looks like beer so you grab one. You open it and take a swig, after you sit on the couch. It is beer that tastes slightly similar to bud light.

Bill walks in seeing you, your head back with a beer in your hand. “You comfortable?”

You shoot up standing a bit startled. “Oh, sorry. Was it okay I grabbed a beer?”

He grabbed one, “To late now if it wasn’t.”

“Oh, that’s how you are.” You smirked. “Now that the Santa suits completely off you’re going to be a dick?”

He stared at you like he had no clue why you just said that. Maybe you said it because of the comment. Maybe it was you were tired from the twelve-hour shoot. Or maybe you were just already sick and tired of this cold icy, snowy storm blowing through even though it was the third one of the season and you live in the part of the world that it was a normal December occurrence. You put the beer on the table and grab your coat.

He grabs your arm. “Stay.” His puppy dog eyes pleading.

You keep your stance. “I might drink all your beer.”

He shrugged. You are just staring at each other when the driver and bodyguard knock.

Bill steppes away from you. “Come in.”

You and Bill sit at the table.

The driver nods, “(Y/N) what’s your license plate number? One of the PAs is going to drive your car behind us to Aloft.”

You raddled off your plate number.

He radios it to the PA. “You two should buckle up in the seats. I might need to use this thing as a snowplow.”

You head to the captain’s chair behind the driver as soon as Bill sits in the one behind his bodyguard. The driver gets the radio call that your car is right behind him, so he pulls out slowly. “We will take this slowly, but I’ll get you there. Are you two doing okay?”

You sighed. “It was a long day. I’m a bit tired.”

Bill agreed. “Yeah, long day.”

It takes a half hour to get the few blocks to the hotel. You go to get your coat and other winter stuff on when the trailer stops. Bill helps you with your coat.

He leans in. “I’m sorry. Can we get some dinner? Then if you just want to get some sleep that’s fine.”

You grab his hand as it lays on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I can get a bit sensitive and crabby when I’m tired and hungry. I think dinner is a great idea.”

When both of you are bundled up the bodyguard opens the door to get out first. Then Bill gets out and helps you. You smile and nod in a thank you motion not sure he can really see your face very well in the blinding snow. The driver comes out with your bag, a hanging garment bag and a backpack. He puts the things on a cart as the two of you are led straight to an elevator up to the twenty first floor.

There is a living room space with a love seat, chair and fifty-inch television on the wall when you walk inside the room. The bodyguard leaves two room keys on the bar to the right. Then he goes out. After he takes his coat off, Bill goes to sit down on the loveseat as you take in the large room. The furniture is red with white carpet throughout. The bar has three stoles and it looks like there is a refrigerator behind it with several beverages and mix-ins lining a shelf. The snow falling outside the floor to ceiling windows really looks beautiful. You walk over to the window looking out. Bill is rubbing his hands over his face.

“As long as I don’t have to be out there in it, it looks pretty.” you gaze at the magical scene as trees and roads get covered with snow.

Bill Looks up at your silhouette with the snow fall in front of you out the window, “Yeah, it’s a beautiful site from here. You’re…” He stops unsure of the words he wants to use.

You turn around to see that puppy face just pleading for attention. You walk over to the love seat and put your hand out to him. “I think I saw a restaurant downstairs when we came in, let’s go have some dinner.”

He gets up and puts his arm around your waist as his other hand grabs a room key from the bar. His bodyguard walks in front of the two of you and pushes the elevator button. The two of you get in and the bodyguard stands in front of you. He pushes the first floor. Rocking around the Christmas tree is playing when you get in the elevator but seconds later Love in an Elevator by Aerosmith starts playing. You burst out a laugh.

Bill looks at you. You look at him. He winks. You motion for him the see the sign by the numbered floors that in all caps says: NO FOOLING AROUND IN THE ELEVATOR. THERE IS A CAMERA. He pushes you into the corner of the elevator. Grabbing your ass as he leans in to give you a strong deep kiss your arms wrap around his middle resting your hands on his back as he takes your breath away. Its good you have on high heeled ankle boots, so he didn’t have to bend down so far.

The bodyguard clears his throat not moving from looking straight forward. “First floor is next.”

You and Bill straighten up quickly as the door opens. You both are smiling as you exit and turn left down a hall towards the hotel bar/restaurant called Vago. The hostess seats you right away. There are only a few other couples scattered throughout the Italian restaurant. The waitress comes over quickly and recommends some drinks. You order a caramel apple spritz. She is a little giddy but trying to be professional.

Bill smiles, “I’ll take whatever local beer you have here.”

She smiles back, “Oh, that’s awesome. I’ll be back to take your orders shortly.”

You laugh. “I think she likes you. Wonder if she’d be interested in a threesome?”

His mouth drops as he stares at you.

You shake your head. “Just kidding. I don’t want to share you.”

Bill swallows. “Oh, okay. I didn’t notice she was being any more attentive than other waiters and waitresses are usually.”

“I guess you would get use to it after a while.”Glanced around the room.

The waitress came back with your drinks. You smile and thank her. Bill thanks her also, then he orders Wagyu strip steak and you order Cavatelli. There is some light Christmas organ music playing in the air. The lighting is low with electric candles at each table. Bill reach over to take your hand and kisses the top of it. Then he looks at you softly.

You smile looking back at him. The snow is still falling outside the window next to you. It is up to the windowsill, but you don’t notice as you take in the site before you. The waitress brings your dinners out. You both sit back straightening in your chairs. As you eat and sip at your drinks you chat about the movie.

“You probably have the full script to this movie we are in, right?”

“Yes, I do. But I can’t show it to you, of course.”

“Of course. Can you tell me if we just shot the end of the movie?”

Grinning Bill answered, “No.”

You take a sip of your cocktail and a few more bites of your pasta. He eats his steak savoring every bite that goes in his mouth. You never knew someone could eat so sexily or maybe you are just so enamored that every move he makes seems sexy.

“Was that No, it wasn’t the end or no you can’t tell me?” You pried.

Bill chuckled “I can tell you that but, I’m pretty sure you will be called back to film more and not just because I’d like you around.”

That excited you., “Cool. That reminds me, I should check to see if I got a message for tomorrow. They message us the night before to say what time we should be on set the next day. You probably have a set schedule.”

“I do.”

You take your cellphone out of your dress pants pocket. He shakes his head and continues to enjoy his meal. You are really already full. You scroll through your emails and find a message from the casting director.

“Congratulations you were chosen to be apart of the production *The Darkest of Christmases*. Tomorrows filming has been canceled due to the winter storm, but things are supposed to lighten up tomorrow evening so we will message you more information tomorrow about a time and where you need to be for filming Wednesday. Reply if you are still interested.

Drive safely,

Casting

You quickly reply: I am still interested in filming this movie. Thank you. 😊

You Look at Bill. “Filming is canceled tomorrow, but I am scheduled to be part of the movie on Wednesday.”

You text your Mom back since she texted you six times when she didn’t hear you got home safe in the storm.

You text: I’m safe. Staying here a few nights instead of driving home in the weather. Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. Long shoot day.

You put your phone away.

Bill tastes a sip of his beer. “That’s cool. I think Santa’s favorite elf needs an extra special gift for Christmas after watching him sprayed with bullets. It was pretty tragic, don’t you think?”

You grin flipping your boot off under the table and letting your toes lightly rub the outside of his pants. “Maybe Santa deserves a gift this year.”

He drops his fork looking at you as your toes try to fondle him under the table. “I think he does if his favorite elf wants to give.”

The waitress comes over. You stop what you are doing and slide your foot back in your boot. “Any refills on drinks or desert I can get you?”

Bill politely declines. “No, thank you. I’ll just sign for this so we can go.”

She puts the check down and he signed it.

He looks at you with a grin. “You ready?”

You nod and you both get up. The bodyguard is already in front of the two of you leading the way to the elevator. When the elevator opens, you step in with Bill with the bodyguard in front of both of you. The song Santa Clause Is Back in Town sung by Elvis is playing. You laugh as Bill spins you to dance in the elevator.

Santa Baby sung by Madonna starts next. You look up at him innocently singing.“I’ve been an awful good girl.”

He smirks. “No, you have been an awful naughty girl. When that door opens you better run.”

Your heart races as you hold his evil looking gaze. Oh, you love this look. The door opens and you bolt. You hear him laugh a bit manically as he comes out of the elevator after you. “Oh, I know your secret. Your dirty little secret.”

He catches up with you quickly and tosses you over his shoulder. You are laughing hysterically when he slaps your ass hard.

You yelled. “Fuck, Bill. What was that for?”

“You are a very naughty little elf.”He smacks your ass again.

You yip. He gets the door open and puts you down inside. His bodyguard stands outside. He is looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. You are so turned on you can barely breath and he knows, it. He unbuttons his dress shirt and takes off the t-shirt under it as he walks over towards the love seat. He takes off his pants and the boxers underneath before he sits down comfortably.

Bill looks at you, your eyes wide. “I know there is something you have been thinking about doing all day. I promise I’ll return the good will. I’m really up for it now if you are?”

#merry christmas #bill skarsgard #fanfic #fanfiction #fantasy #bill skarsgard x reader #happy holidays #bill skarsgard fanfiction

15 notes · View notes