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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 4 years ago

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Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 10 of 27: Dating

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHAPTER 9

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR AMAZING FEEDBACK! I AM BEYOND GRATEFUL FOR EVERYONE WHO READS THIS STORY! This project has become so important to me and I have so much fun working on it! Thank you thank you thank you! Also - this chapter is a little shorter and more ‘calm’ at first. But be prepared, it’s still very important to everything that follows it!! <33 Enjoy!

Words: 3.1k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader Warnings: none

Two days after Hogsmeade …

Monday morning. You yawned and it turned into a chuckle when Malfoy mimicked you.

“It’s contagious,” he defended himself quietly to avoid attracting Professor Sprouts attention. He sat next to you, way back in the last row of the classroom. It had been your idea – after finding out that almost none of your friends believed your act, it seemed like a good idea to sit next to each other during classes. Maybe it would help convince them.

With a flick of her wand, Professor Sprout made an assignment appear on the blackboard. Nothing too difficult. You walked to the front to get the small flower you were supposed to work with and Ron glared at you from his seat. You ignored him.

Back at your table, Malfoy and you started working together quietly. When you looked at his notes, you leaned over a little too closely, feeling dizzy from the smell of his cologne. Whenever he reached for something, his hand brushed over yours. His comments were accompanied by smiles and direct eye contact. He played his part so well, you almost believed it. From the corners of your vision, you saw Ron staring.

You acted the same in every class that you shared. During breaks, you stayed together – always a few feet away from the others. You discovered how funny he could be when he gave you live-commentary of a fight happening between a Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

In the evening, you came back to your dorm, feeling unusually content. Not even the letter from the parents on your desk changed that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, your mother had written. I simply don’t understand and I am scared for you. I can’t lose you too.

“Oh, mum,” you whispered, rubbing your neck. Then you sat down and reached for a quill. She deserved the truth. At least, a little of it.

***

One week after Hogsmeade …

Draco was happy.

Well, maybe happy was a little exaggerated but he felt … calmer. He used to spend his free time by himself which gave him plenty of opportunities to think. About the war, his parents, himself – and it nearly killed him. The notebook was an escape, a good way to focus, but it wasn’t enough. No matter how many pages he filled, he still felt himself sliding away from his surroundings. Now he spent that time with you – and things began to change. In those few days he even stopped dreading getting out of bed because Draco had finally something to look forward to again: spending time with you.

Draco considered you his friend. A part of him had trouble with the realization since being around someone like you went against everything his parents taught him but he tried tirelessly to shut it off. No, you were his friend and being around you made him feel almost okay.

“What are you writing?”

The sound of your voice caused Draco to look up from his notebook. The two of you sat in the library. You were across from him, finishing up on some homework. Draco shrugged. What was he supposed to say? I’m writing about you? Certainly not.

“Can I read it at some point?”, you tilted your head in curiosity. You did that a lot, Draco noticed. It reminded him of a puppy.

Am I comparing her to a dog?, he scolded himself in the next second. No, he didn’t mean it like that. He meant to think that he thought it was cute when you did that. You … were cute.

“It’s okay,” you finally said with a smile when you sensed his hesitation. “It’s personal, I get it – or do you keep track of dirty dreams in it?” You teased him.

“Only of the dreams involving you,” he winked at you, causing you to snort. Despite the joke, Draco was relieved you didn’t dig any further.

From where he sat, he had a direct view of the huge door leading inside the library. This was the reason why he saw the Greengrass sisters walking in, their gaze immediately landing upon him. He casually reached over the table and softly began to draw circles on your soft skin with the tip of his finger. He smirked at your shiver.

“Ron?”, you asked, not looking up from your book.

“Astoria,” he replied.

A few minutes later, Astoria and Daphne left again. Draco didn’t pull his hand away.

***

Two weeks after Hogsmeade …

Snowflakes were dancing in the cold winter air as you sat on the bleachers with Malfoy. Down on the Quidditch field, the Slytherins were practicing under the strong rule of Zabini. Games were cancelled but they still needed to stay in shape.

“I never pictured you as an Auror,” Malfoy confessed. He had asked about your future plans just seconds before.

“Why?”, you wanted to know.

He thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. I always thought you’d become … a healer. Or a teacher maybe.”

His words made you laugh. “Are you serious?”

Malfoy nodded.

“Well, no,” you shrugged. “I wanted to be an Auror since I was little girl. And I’ll make it, believe me.”

He raised his hands in a defensive manner. “I have no doubts about that. It simply surprised me.”

You chuckled another time at the thought of becoming a teacher. It had always been the furthest thing on your mind. You loved Hogwarts, it had been your home for years but you craved to see more from the world. Especially since the war happened. You didn’t want to spend your whole life in this castle.

“What do you want to do?”, you then asked, curious as to what his answer might be. It was hard for you to picture him outside of school.

Malfoy shrugged. “I don’t know.”

It surprised you. “Really?”, you wondered. “Pureblood families like yours normally have a plan set up for their kids, don’t they?”

“Normally,” he laughed bitterly. “My father wanted me to follow his footsteps and get some high-ranking job in the Ministry. That’s not an option anymore. For obvious reasons.”

He was probably right. The wounds were still too fresh. The chances for a former Death Eater to be employed in the Ministry of Magic were slim.

You stayed on the bleachers for hours. It had only been a little over two weeks since the Halloween party and yet you had become a lot closer to Malfoy than you expected. You felt comfortable talking to him. Both of you had very different childhoods and friends – you came from different worlds. However, it was precisely this fact that made it easy to talk to each other. You were almost certain that he felt the same.

***

Three weeks after Hogsmeade …

Draco watched you flick through the pages of a magazine and for the first time since that night in the storage room, he saw you. And by Merlin, how beautiful you were.

He sat on the couch in the Room of Requirements with you, listening to the flames crackling in the small fireplace in front of him. You were laying down on your back, head propped up against the armrest, a small wrinkle on your forehead as you read the descriptions in the magazine. Your legs were stretched out and on his lap. Draco wondered why – no one would be around to see you anyways.

“Stop staring, Malfoy, it’s creepy,” you giggled.

Draco blinked as he snapped back into reality. “I’m not staring, I’m thinking, Y/L/N.”

“Think without staring at me.”

Easier said than done.

Draco cleared his throat. “What are you looking at anyways?”

“Christmas presents for my parents. But,” you clicked your tongue, “I can’t find anything good.”

Draco grabbed your legs and lifted them slightly while moving over closer to you. “Let me see. I’m awesome at getting gifts.”

***

Four weeks after Hogsmeade …

When December arrived, Hogwarts felt like home again. A cheerful atmosphere filled the castle, accompanied by snowball fights outside and hot chocolates in the common rooms. As if a spell was lifted, something changed within the students and parents alike.

You happily noticed how Ginny needed less and less of her sleeping medicine. The nightmares slowly faded, being replaced by happier memories. The letters from your mother barely mentioned your sister anymore. Instead, she talked about carriage rides in the snow with your father and her plans for Christmas dinner. For the first time in a while, you looked forward to going home.

You wondered if it was the same for Draco. When they put up the Christmas tree in the Great Hall, he got even more quiet than usual. It planted an idea inside your head and on that same day, you wrote a letter to your parents, asking them if he could spend the holidays with them. They agreed. It came to no surprise to you; your mother was eager to meet him and see if her prejudices and fears would be proven right.

“I don’t want to impose,” Draco said with a stern voice when you told him after dinner.

“You’re not! I asked them and they want to meet you. Come on,” you insisted.

He watched you with uncertainty and furrowed brows. “I don’t know. I can’t –”

“What are your plans for Christmas?”, you interrupted him.

Draco looked away at the question; that same expression of bitterness on his face that you’d seen too often for your own liking.

“I thought so,” you said softly. “Please, Draco, come with me.”

He sighed and wiped his hands over his eyes. “Why would they even want to meet me?”

You smiled widely. “You’re my boyfriend.” Never would you have thought it would sound normal to say that.

“Yes, but –”, he lowered his voice, “– but not really.”

True. For a weird reason, it stung a little to be reminded by him. “I am your friend though, aren’t I?”

He blinked at the word ‘friend’ and you wondered if he felt differently about it. Then he nodded.

“Awesome!”, you exclaimed, shooing away your worries. “Then it’s settled. Christmas at my place.”

In that moment, Harry and Ron walked passed you. Ron didn’t even glance at you. How weird, you wondered, this was the first time in days that you thought about him.

***

Five weeks after Hogsmeade …

My dearest Draco,

I am delighted to hear that Y/N’s family invited you for Christmas. They are very kind to do so. Please remember to bring a little housewarming gift. Although it hurts me to be away from you this Christmas, I do believe it’s a better option for you than visiting your grandparents with me. I’m sure the holidays will be spent in a rather somber spirit this year as your father will be unable to join us. I want you to have at least a little fun and am looking forward to your stories.

Lots of love, your Mother

P.S.: I met with Mrs. Greengrass yesterday. She is not upset and gave me her word to wait until you are ready.

Draco shook his head in amusement when he finished reading the letter. Only his mother could wish him a nice time with his (fake) girlfriend and then continue with ‘if you’re done having fun, your fiancée is still available’.

“That’s why pureblood traditions are fucked up,” was something you would say right now. But you weren’t here. You were practicing for the first Quidditch game in the new year and Draco sat in his dorm, waiting for Blaise to get ready.

Reading the letter a second time, he started to wonder. Why would Mrs. Greengrass wait? Why did their family want this union so desperately? The questions were lingering on his mind ever since you brought them up months ago. He failed to come up with an answer to this day.

“Please don’t tell me that’s a letter to Y/N,” Blaise announced when he stepped out of the bathroom.

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s from my mother, idiot.”

“Good,” his friend sighed dramatically. “Because I rarely get to see you now that you have her. No need for you to start writing love letters when she’s not around.”

Even though his nagging slightly annoyed Draco, he realized something in this moment: it had worked. The whole PDA and ‘being-more-affective-in-public’- thing worked. It had been almost two weeks since Theo or Blaise (or even Astoria) tried to get him to confess that they were faking it. His friends started to believe them.

“Yeah, whatever,” Draco gave a dismissive wave of his hand and put the letter away. “Maybe I just don’t want to see you, Zabini, and it has nothing to do with Y/N.”

Blaise laughed. “No, you love me too much. Now, let’s go. Theo’s waiting for us.”

***

Six weeks after Hogsmeade …

A loud shriek echoed through the classroom and you almost dropped the container of cat teeth on the floor. Parkinson jumped up and down, trying to get a slimy violet mass shaken off her leg. It didn’t budge and made its way up her pants, accompanied by absolutely disgusting slurping and smacking sounds. You tried hard to suppress a laugh but when you saw the way Harry grinned behind her, you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling.

Professor Slughorn hurried over and quickly cast a spell. The mass fell down to the floor and stopped moving. “Oh well, Ms. Parkinson,” he quickly glanced inside her cauldron. “It’s important to add the cat teeth before the mandrake juice.” Then he knelt down in front of her, inspecting her pants. “It looks like nothing got on your skin. If I am mistaken, please go and see Madame Pomfrey. It can leave nasty burns behind.”

The Slytherin girl nodded, still in shock.

“What happened?”, Draco joined you at your table. He had gone to the backroom, to gather missing ingredients.

“Parkinson got attacked by her potion,” you sneered while counting the cat teeth. “It was hilarious.”

“I bet,” he grinned, before skimming over the instructions again.

“I think I need to go and see Madame Pomfrey,” Parkinson whined behind you. “It got through the fabric of my pants.”

As if, you thought and rolled your eyes.

“Please go,” you heard Slughorn say. “Better not take any chances. Interestingly, this modified form of the potion has been used in the past. They removed foreign magical particles with it, such as certain marks that resulted from dark spells. It is very aggressive though and since then, the healers have invented different potions. However, when it touches your normal skin, it only leaves burns and scars. Please, Ms. Parkinson, please go. Mr. Nott, you can accompany her.”

“Huh,” Draco made next to you. “What did she do wrong again?”

You sighed when you saw that you had miscounted the teeth. Damnit.

“Y/N?”

“What?”, you looked at him.

Draco stared at the liquid inside the cauldron, a blank expression on his face. “What did Pansy do wrong?”

“She put in the mandrake juice before the cat teeth.” You frowned. “Why?”

“No reason.”

***

That same day …

It was late when you returned from Quidditch practice; tired and sweaty. All you craved was a shower and then your bed. Playing that sport in your free time was one thing but practicing under Ginny as Captain? You were glad that you didn’t die yet.

“Y/L/N!”

Someone shouted your name as you walked inside the castle.

“Y/L/N!”

Irritated, you turned around, trying to make out the person that voice belonged to.

“Y/L/N, here!” Theodore Nott sprinted down the stairs, coming from the direction of the Gryffindor common room. “Fuck, we looked everywhere for you!”, he cursed, completely out of breath, when he finally reached you.

“We?”, you asked with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”

You then noticed the fear in his eyes. He gripped so tightly onto the stair railings that his knuckles turned white and his whole body was trembling. Panic began to dwell up inside of you. Draco.

“It’s Draco, something happened,” he panted. “You have to come, please!”

Your blood froze. “What’s going on?!”, your voice turned shrill but he ran down the stairs again.

“Come!”, he shouted. “Now!”

The two of you sprinted down stairs and hallways, passing confused classmates on the way. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you repeated the same sentence over and over again in your head: Something happened to Draco. The thought of it was unbearable and it hit you like a brick wall, making it hard to breathe. Please, no. Not him.

When you reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Theodore turned to you abruptly. He grabbed you by your shoulders. “Act normal,” he hissed. “Walk slowly. They don’t need to know.”

You nodded absently. Your hands were clam and you tried to calm down your breathing.

“Okay,” he didn’t seem convinced that you understood him. Then he mumbled the password and the door opened.

Under normal circumstances, you would have stopped in the middle of the room, looking around in awe. You’d never been here before; it was a mystery to you. But now, you only briefly glanced at the green and black furniture. There weren’t many students around. The ones that saw you, stared at your red Quidditch robes.

“What the fuck?”, someone said loudly. “What’s she doing here?!”

Nott ignored them, leading you quickly to the stairs that must have led up to the dorms. You noticed the windows on the way up and gasped when you realized that you didn’t look at the fields of Hogwarts. You were under the Black Lake.

“Finally,” Zabini exclaimed. He had waited in front of a door, looking just as shaken up as Nott. “You found her.”

“What’s going on?”, you asked for the third time now. “Where is he?”, your voice trembled a little.

“In here,” Nott pointed at the room. “In the bathroom. He locked himself in.”

“He wouldn’t let us in and asked for you,” Zabini continued with a quiet voice, fidgeting with his hands. “It’s … you’ll see. Just go in and help him.” He paused briefly. “Please.”

You nodded and reached for the door handle. Three deep breaths. One … two … three.

You pushed open the door and stepped in, closing it softly behind you. Looking around, everything looked perfectly ordinary. Three beds, three wardrobes, a table. Your gaze wandered over to the door that lead into the bathroom. Then you heard it – a sob. And another one. Someone was crying. He was crying. Your heart broke at the sound.

“Draco?”

***

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! <33 Also: did you notice Y/N stopped calling him “Malfoy” halfway through the chapter and switched to “Draco”?

CHAPTER 11

“Choose Me Instead” Masterlist HP Masterlist

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mostly-mundane-atla · 4 years ago

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Hey, it's that bit of writing I started working on 800 followers ago! I genuinely appreciate everyone being so patient on this and also just being so respectful with talking culture in general. I'm still getting used to it. Hang tight on that glossary, I'll post it asap

Edit: here's the glossary

~-~-~

It was a challenge to live on the Tundra, but never as much as when the Ikunmiut claimed the Southern Water Tribe as their territory and demanded tribute from the locals.

The whaling captain of one village assigned his own son, Aasrivak, to bring food to the soldiers, as a show of good faith. Aasrivak's younger sister, Tulugak, insisted on going along.

"Tulugak, my own daughter," the captain pleaded, "your mother and grandmother need your help at home."

"But Papa," she insisted, "how can I stitch a straight line or shoo birds from the drying rack if I don't know if brother is safe?"

Knowing he could not deter his daughter, the captain instead turned to his son and said, "Keep her behind you."

"Kangiqsirunga," Aasrivak answered, nodding and bringing Tulugak in the back of the sled with him, between his arms so she wouldn't fall. "I will, Papa."

"Now hurry," their father said. "The only thing worse than an Ikunmiu is an angry Ikunmiu."

Aasrivak nodded and cracked his whip, signaling the musk-dogs to run, and they were off.

The air they rushed through bit at her face with stinging cold, but Tulugak did not regret her decision. Her brother was a shining example of what a young Water Tribe man ought to be. Generous and kind, serious when it was required, but good-natured and gentle with his words. When she was old enough to eat solid food, he shared his with her. When he learned to carve, he made her a doll. When she hurt her foot helping him check traps, he carried her home on his back like a mother with a baby. When loose teeth made it hurt to chew anything, he brought her broth and soft berries that she could crush between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, rather than between her jaws. She'd often teased him for his propriety and his need for his tools to be just so, but she loved him dearly and couldn't bear if something happened and she couldn't be there to protect him.

When they arrived at the iglu near the ship with the Ikunmiut banner, Aasrivak began to unload the sled.

"Utaqqinga," he told his sister.

"But--"

"I told Papa I'd keep you behind me," he said, stacking the crates of goods and lifting them up. "Stay here."

"Itsingitchunga," she said, crossing her arms defiantly, as her only argument.

Aasrivak chuckled. "If you don't fear them, little sister," he said, "then you are a fool and shouldn't have come with me to begin with."

Hating to feel so useless, Tulugak went about checking the musk-dogs' teeth for rot, their paws for wound and splinters, and their horns for cracks. She petted them and scratched behind their ears for being so good and patient, and wondered how they did it. The smell was all wrong, even for her human nose, and they must have been able to sense that Aasrivak was in danger among the invaders.

Tulugak jolted at the sound of someone crashing to the floor. The possibility that it wasn't her brother would not occur to her, and she was already close enough to touch the banner by the time she realized she left the sled. The taste of blood poured into her mouth, as she had bitten down hard on her tongue. She was sure if the Ikunmiu who did it could her her call him a "gnashing wolf conceived of two pups of the same litter" as she wanted to, his fingers would be around her throat in the time it took to blink.

It wasn't Aasrivak collapsed on the floor, he stood and shielded her with his arm the moment she entered, but it wasn't an Ikunmii soldier either. The figure there had her hand at her face, where she must have been struck. And in spite of the red smudged on her lips, the lampblack drawn about her eyes, the scant garment she was wrapped in, she had an air of ancient power and dignity. More notable and haunting than that, she seemed to be a Water Tribe girl. A young woman, close in age to Tulugak herself. Her skin was like the browned fossil ivory, her eyes black and shining as baleen beads, and her unbraided hair as thick and dark as the winter's night.

How dare anyone strike her? Tulugak thought.

Her focus was only taken off of the young lady at the sound of an unfamiliar voice cooing, "Oh, this one's almost pretty as ours."

Aasrivak pushed her further behind him.

"She's--" he started, trying to think of something, "she's to be married, sir."

"What a shame!" This voice was a different one still, and refusing to look at them, Tulugak couldn't put a face to it. "Kept in the ice and snow, carving fish and sewing skins and breeding like a dog. Wouldn't you rather come home with me, dear?"

"Enough!" snapped another. "It's bad enough we have one. You, boy," Aasrivak straightened at this address. "See to it your father doesn't forget tobacco next time."

"Kangiq--" the word stopped as if it had barbs in his throat. Aasrivak and his sister both heard what the Ikunmiut did to people who didn't speak properly. "I understand, sir." He bowed his head deeply, and pushed Tulugak out before turning to follow her, but she could still feel those baleen colored eyes on them, begging for help and protection.

Aasrivak nudged Tulugak onto the sled without a word. His gloved hands gripped the handles with almost enough force to break them and then they began to shake. Without warning, he stomped down on the brake and Tulugak hit her belly on the bar.

"You shouldn't have left the sled," he told her, trying to keep his voice from shaking as his hands were.

"I thought they struck you down," she explained. "I thought you were hurt, I--"

"If they struck me down I could have gotten up, but you-- they could have taken you away!" His hands could have bruised her arms with how tightly he held them. "Ilitchuģipich? If I was hurt I could have recovered, but if they took you away from us, Tulugak, there are things they could do to you that we could never undo."

Aasrivak so rarely cried, and seeing the tears well up in his eyes was all the proof Tulugak needed that he truly believed the worst could have happened.

"And niviaķsiaķ? What of their captive?" she asked once she found her voice again, though niviaķsiallautaķ was the word that danced in her mind. "We can't leave her there if she can face such things too."

"She's not one of ours," he answered cautiously.

"It shouldn't matter what village she's from."

"No, that's not what I mean. Those men, they told me that they found a fox pelt the night she appeared. That she wouldn't leave without it and gave a great cry when they held it over flame. They have her cooking and making their tea now, as she had brought meat with her."

"She wouldn't leave her pelt?" she asked. "You mean she's--"

"Kayuķtuķ, it would seem."

Of course she was a fox; one of those foxes that take off their skins to reveal a beautiful woman underneath. The ones that look after babies that couldn't be fed and keep house for hunters. She couldn't have been a person, she was too -- enchanting? -- otherworldly. And of course the Ikunmiut took her. They took everything that didn't belong to them

"So she is among strangers in a world that is not her own," Tulugak stated, carefully feeling the words come out of her mouth. They felt strange, even though they rang true. "Aasrivak, we can't leave her to them! She ought to have her skin and be far away."

"We need to be far away from them too."

"Is her soul not made the same as ours? Is her current form not proof of that?"

Aasrivak thought to himself for a moment before he spoke up again. "If I agree to help her with you, little sister, you must promise me you will not put yourself in harm's way again. Can you promise me that?"

Tulugak stretched her eyebrows up as high ad they would go, nodding solemnly.

He threw his arms around her and inhaled as if to breath her fully into his lungs. She returned the gesture, holding her brother so tight nothing could take him from her.

"We'll figure it out when you help me mend the traps and nets," he said.

She nodded again, knowing he wouldn't see but would still understand. They got back on the sled and made their way home.

Aasrivak told Papa that he kept his sister behind him but didn't mention the soldiers' spirit captive. As agreed upon, the brother and sister came up with a few ideas as she helped him mend his net outside. Mama and Aaka were inside, spinning the greyish brown musk-dog wool with spindles on waterbending-powered wheels, and Papa was away, helping some returning hunters butcher their catch of seal and taking what they didn't need to the widows and elders.

They had for their supper the mikigaq that had simmered with fireweed and sourdock. No rice, Mama and Aaka decided. Mama realized that with the occupation, there was no way to be sure when more would be imported, and Aaka was proud that such a woman married her son. Cartilage had been cut into tiny pieces and added near the end in its place.

As she lay on her ķaatchiaķ that night, Tulugak found herself thinking of her mother's sister. She had three husbands and enjoyed that very much. The three of them jumped to bring her water when she suggested she was thirsty, carved beautiful beads for her to wear, and every night each would kiss the calloused thumb and finger in which she held her needle. What a cruel mockery of that the fox girl's situation seemed to her. She remembered hearing that Ikunmii women weren't allowed more than one husband, and that only some of the men could take more than one wife. No wonder they couldn't share a girl between them without striking her, couldn't play the husbands as they expected her to play the wife. It's all they can do, she thought before drifting off to sleep, steal and mock.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #eskimo on main #water tribe

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missturtleduck · 4 years ago

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Fake dating anon-I think it would be cool if it wasn’t a modern au? But thank you!!!!

Sorry for your wait, anon! I hope you like what I wrote for you <3

Fake It Till You Make It

Sokka x Reader - FakeDating!Trope

Needless to say, Y/N was slightly shocked by Sokka’s proposition.

By the age of sixteen, they had been crucial pai sho tiles in the gambit against the once Fire Lord Ozai. Returning home was odd for many reasons, but notably the reminders that they were still children really, or at least in the eyes of their families. It was Zuko who had suggested a gang trip – a joint life changing field trip – after the nations settled down from Ozai’s defeat.

The first to return home was Y/N. Her mother lived in Fire Fountain City. It was only a short journey away from the capital, and Hakoda had already travelled to see his children at the palace. Sure, she had joked about pushing off her mother’s insistent affection, but she definitely cried a little bit when she got to hug her mum, and even more when her brothers piled on too. Ever the monarchist, Zuko was welcomed into the house with open arms and plenty of celebration. Toph especially got on with her family, rough-housing with Y/N’s brothers like it was nothing.

Since Toph didn’t want to see her parents as of yet, the only family member left to visit was Sokka and Katara’s Gran Gran since Suki’s family were doing work in the Fire Nation anyway. It took some convincing for Toph to put on snow boots – “I’ll risk frostbite if it means seeing, Katara!” – but soon they were travelling all the way to the South Pole. It was on their stop at Kyoshi Island that Sokka had approached Y/N.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

Y/N barked out an incredulous laugh. “Tui and La, what?”

“Exactly what I said,” Sokka nodded, face solemn. “Katara wrote to Gran Gran a couple of times and mentioned Yue and Suki, but you know how that ended.”

“One turned into the moon and the other is a raging Sapphic in a relationship with Ty Lee.”

“Exactly!” He looked distressed, throwing his hands in the air. “And Gran Gran sent a letter back saying how excited she was to meet my girlfriend!”

Frowning in confusion, Y/N looked at him. “You could just tell her what happened.”

“But, Y/N, she was so excited!” He simpered the way a child would, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “Obviously, we’re just friends, but would you do this?”

Ouch. Sure, they were ‘just friends’, but it hurt anyway. Maybe it was the terseness with how he said it, or the fact that since the war had ended all Y/N could think about is how pretty Sokka looked when he could finally relax. Whatever it was, it stung in her chest, panging with the intensity of heartburn. Heartburn seemed a fitting enough description regardless of its denotation.

So that was how she ended up fake dating Sokka, all for the sake of his ego and his gran gran’s happiness. As they travelled over the ocean on Appa’s back, he was as physically far from her as he could possibly be. Ouch, again. For a fake boyfriend, he was doing a crappy job at it. Staring daggers at the back of his head, Y/N sulked quite contently next to Zuko, who seemed to be comfortable with her mood – something about being friends with far grumpier girls. That had made her laugh.

Her laugh had made Sokka stare.

The sharpness to her gaze melted almost immediately when she saw the concern etched on his face. Instead, she beamed at him. Sokka grinned back, turning away to continue his conversation with Suki.

Y/N could feel Zuko’s gaze on her. “I swear to the spirits, Zuko, if you say that’s rough, buddy, I’ll chi block you.”

The crown prince was kind enough to stifle his laughter, though it seemed contagious. Her frown shifted into a small smile and she took to staring over the edge of Appa’s saddle at the canvas of blue beneath them. There was something tranquil about the polar water, the great water beasts breaching the waves only to dive back down into the impossible depths. Being from the Fire Nation, Y/N had never experienced such wonder in a single image – nor such freezing weather. Pulling furs over herself, she readied herself for what would happen on the ice.

Gran Gran looked to be the loveliest but scariest woman she would ever meet. The woman stood as the leader of the tribe; a gaggle of children stood behind her in uncertainty. However, as soon as Sokka hopped off Appa’s back, they were screaming and charging past her to tackle him to the ground. Her heart warmed as they hugged him and cried, shouting at him for leaving them without a warrior in the village.

“What are you seal pups on about?” He snorted, trying to avoid being winded by tiny elbows. “I trained you better than this.”

“That’s enough of that.”

At the woman’s words, the children picked themselves up, leaving Sokka in the snow. He didn’t last long though as he and Katara took their turn in charging. Embracing their grandmother with the tightest hug Y/N had ever seen, she left them to their moment, opting to instead help Toph down from their trusty steed.

“I hate this,” Toph muttered, holding both Zuko and Y/N’s arms in her own death grip.

“I know,” Y/N said softly, “But you’ll be able to take those boots off once we get inside one of the igloos.”

“And this must be Y/N.”

With wide eyes, she pried herself from Toph, trusting Zuko to make sure she didn’t cause any avalanches. Stepping to Sokka’s side, Y/N tried not to startle as he wrapped his arm around her hip. “Sokka, let me meet your grandmother before you steal me away!”

She felt smug satisfaction at how he flushed.

“Let me look at you, dear,” The matriarch ordered, though not unkindly. Presenting herself in the woman, she brushed off the scrutinous stare with a smile. “You’re very beautiful.”

“Thank you, erm- “

“Please,” She beamed, and all Y/N could see was the saccharine threat that Katara often fronted, “Call me Gran Gran.”

As the woman turned away, she swatted Sokka’s arm, meeting his gaze with a scowl. Stalking past him through the snow – which was harder than she had assumed – Y/N was followed by a curious flock of children tugging on her sleeves. Patient as a saint, she laughed with them, answering all of their burning questions.

Why is your hair like that? Why are your clothes red? Is that the same scary man who attacked our village? But he doesn’t look scary. Why is Sokka smiling at you?

Whipping her head around, Y/N met Sokka’s eyes. He was grinning like a dope, chin rested on his palm as Katara talked Gran Gran’s ear off. Somehow, he hadn’t realised that she had caught him staring, but the children soon fixed that; a snowball to the face promptly brought him out of his stupor. Had he hit his head on the way down from Appa? Whatever it was, it made her heart hurt and she had promised Toph a warm igloo anyway.

The sun was beginning to set behind the glaciated mountains on the horizon, illuminating the village in the evening light, dappling the ice with sunspots. She had never seen something so beautiful before, but as the sun disappeared, so did the warmth; the igloo more than made up for it.

As she sat with Zuko, Suki, and Toph – Sokka and Katara obviously busy whilst Aang promised the children some airbending games – Y/N grumbled to herself. Not only was she playing fake girlfriend, but fake girlfriend who was hated by the family. Well, it probably wasn’t hate. She wouldn’t blame Gran Gran for being protective over one of her two grandchildren. In fact, thinking of how her brothers reacted to Sokka, maybe she had it good.

Laid flat on her back, she listened to the gossip of the Fire Nation, of how Ty Lee was doing, and how Toph was seeing some weird stuff under the ice. Whatever it was, it couldn’t spike her interest enough to join in the conversation.

“Y/N?”She barely turned her head to see an anxious looking Sokka in the doorway.

“Yes?”

He looked around the room at all the faces and fidgeted. “About earlier- “

“Listen, I don’t care, okay, Sokka?” She said, trying her hardest to not seem entirely mean, nor upset; Toph scoffed, muttering something that sounded like liar.

“Just,” He sighed, “Can we talk outside?”

Pulling furs back over herself, she looked pleadingly at her friends to rescue her, but to no avail. Trudging after Sokka, she was growing more and more vexed as they moved further from the village and into the cold. The moon began to rise in the sky, glossing the ice with an ethereal glow, which was perhaps the only nice part about being out in the bitter cold.

“What, Sokka?” Y/N finally huffed, putting her foot down. “Am I not being a convincing enough girlfriend for you?”

“It’s not that Y/N,” Sokka started, waving his hands in a panicked motion as if warning off a polar dog.

“Then what?” She interrupted, not having any of it. “Did you want me to hold your hand? Maybe give you a cuddle?”

He flinched at the venom in her tone. “No, Y/N, if you’d just- “

“Just what?” Y/N snapped. “What you asked of me what really inconsiderate,

Sokka, but I did it anyway because I'm your friend – just your friend.”

“Spirits, Y/N,” He sighed, realisation passing behind his eyes.

“But it’s fine! I’m a great actress, Sokka, because I wouldn’t be acting. See? I can hold your hand, hug you, even kiss you if you needed it, but it hurts me.”

Looking down at the ice, Sokka kicked some snow under his boot, looking very ashamed of himself for a second. It pierced through her anger in a way that was unfair. Instead of dealing a final blow, all she could think to do was grab his hand and comfort him. Yes, she still felt she was in the right, but Y/N didn’t want one of her closest friends to suffer at her hand, retribution or no.

“Gran Gran shouted at me, y’know,” Sokka said, a small smile quirking at his lips as his eyes fell on his hand in hers.

Y/N frowned. “Why?”

“For thinking she was a ‘dumb old lady’ apparently,” He chuckled, meeting her eyes. “It seemed Aang had let slip that we weren’t actually dating, so she told me off for that.”

“You deserved that,” She grin, bumping his shoulder.

“And then she called me dumb, which I didn’t appreciate.”

His smile said otherwise, so Y/N pushed. “What did you do now?”

“Try to fake something I actually wanted.”

Shocked, Y/N dropped his hand, and for a moment his heart fell heavy in his chest. This was the perfect chance to be with her, he thought, now that the war was over and she knew her family was safe. Now they had autonomy, surely they could focus on each other.

“Y/N, I’m so- “

His apology was cut off by an insistent pair of lips, begging him to be quiet and just enjoy their moment. Deepening the kiss, she looped her arms around the back of his neck, the scruff of his unshaven hair brushing against her arms. His heart was soaring, hers no longer burning but glowing. She pulled back and reaching up to his face, Y/N felt the warmth of his cheek in the bitter cold, radiating warmer than the sun. Whatever light had been taken by the night was captured in them.

“Gran Gran likes you by the way,” Sokka said quietly, leaning his forehead against hers. “Says you wrangle those kids better than I do.”

“Praise Agni,” Y/N gasped, letting out a bated breath she hadn’t realised was stuck. “She does the same scary face Katara does.”

Sokka chucked, rubbing his nose against hers. “Don’t you worry, Y/N. Me and Dad are just as scared by it.”

With a giggle, she rested her head in the crook of his neck, basking in their embrace for as long as she could.

#atla #fic request #sokka x reader #fake dating #sokka x f!reader #zuko #toph #aang #katara #suki #the gaang #gran gran #fake it till you make it #anon request #angst #happy ending #missturtleduck

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belovasangel · 4 years ago

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Come Back to Me

Summary: Shawn missing big events leaves to beautiful memories and Christmas miracles

Pairing: Shawn x fem!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: swearing, light angst, fluff, flashback heavy, holiday feelings

A/N: Yup. Surprise. Also flashbacks are in italics, per usual. Also I am not Canadian so I don’t know if y’all celebrate Remembrance Day. For the sake of this story, pretend that it’s the equivalent to Thanksgiving.

Shawn took your hand as you barreled down the sidewalk, laughs flying past you in the wind. Tonight had been a perfect date, something great to wrap the summer up, full of time alone with your favorite guy (and your favorite wine). He had been planning this for weeks now, and you can even remember him talking about this back in June when his tour had been announced. The pandemic put a damper on your two’s plans since March, but once the numbers started decreasing did he get calls from managers, and then... there was another world tour. You weren’t mad, music was his passion. Even though you two would be wrapped in each other’s arms after a lovely night, you could tell behind his eyes he longed to play the guitar for different cities.

That’s why tonight was so important, because he started packing and planning, then he would leave on Wednesday for Prague. And of course, your job needed you in Toronto. While Canada hasn’t experienced any significantly alarming numbers, there were still cases rolling in. You insisted that Shawn goes on tour, so much that you had to pay for his first ticket yourself (he payed you back, though. He insisted).

Shawn skidded to a stop, turning around and putting his hands on your shoulders. “Now promise me you’re gonna close your eyes, just for a few seconds.”

You huffed and shrugged your shoulders, “Shawn I’m out of breathe, you made me run in heels for about half a mile... Give me 5 minutes instead.” With a quick chuckle, he pecked your lips and turned you around. You heard his shuffling from those black boots he wears to rubble, then decided to look around. He somehow managed to find a quaint park, with a nice bubbling fountain and family’s scattered around. Dogs were running a lit in the distance, and the bustle of the city wasn’t nearly as booming as it usually is. This was nice.

“Okay, turn around.”

With a giggle, you turned around to see Shawn on one knee. Behind him was a tree strung with lights that were glowing, and underneath the tree was champagne and a radio playing your two’s song, Turning the Page (Yeah, we know it’s from Twilight, but that doesn’t stop it from being any less romantic). He was kneeled on a red and white picnic blanket, the typical one you’d see in catalogues for fall. On the blanket were rose petals scattered.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), you have changed my life for the better. The moment you saw me in the E.R., and had to take care of my broken hand, I knew you were just as kind and gentle as you looked. Once you let me in, and take you on that shitty first date, I got to see the real you. The you that cries during every Disney movie, the you that would bring me breakfast in bed when I had a rough day, the you that would rescue a damn pigeon off the street because it looked sad. You are the most sincere, selfless, and intelligent woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I don’t want ever want to stop or slow down. You have become my life and my rock, I’m completely lost without you. I am utterly in love with you, (Y/N). I want us to have a family, I want to make an album for you, and everything in between. Will you please marry me?”

You shuddered awake, looking quickly at your blaring alarm from the end table. Picking it up and turning it off, the time read 4:25 A.M., signaling it was time to get ready for work. You got up, and went to open the blinds to your bedroom, watching the snow fall steadily. Slipping on your socks and bathrobe, you shuffled to the kitchen to get a cup of tea brewing before you hit the shower.

Mornings like this weren’t incredibly tough anymore, once Shawn was gone on tour. He face-timed you once a week because of tour, sent you letters and packages from your favorite cities, and even had roses delivered on your birthday. And of course, he always said, “Lemme see it. I wanna see you wear that pretty ring. There it is, there she is, soon-to-be Mrs. Mendes.”

Slipping in the hot shower, you played some of his songs, some of your regular playlists, and when you were throwing on your outfit, your two’s song. You missed Shawn. He had missed your two’s favorite holiday, Halloween, where you two always did the cheesy couple costumes. He missed your birthday, but he sent his family in place. He missed Remembrance Day, because in Europe that wasn’t a thing. And tomorrow is Christmas, where he has no sign of coming home whatsoever. That’s fine, though, because you took the long shift at the hospital.

When the song came to an end, you threw on your coat and snow boots, grabbing all the food and equipment you would need for a 12-hour and began to head out. Shawn sent you his daily vlog and you watched that on the shuttle. Once that was over, you got to the hospital where you would forget about your slightly more aching heart. After work, the routine would basically go in reverse. Commute home, get back into your pajama’s, drink some tea, get dinner, and go to bed, where you would have a restless night in an empty bed.

“When do you think we should have the wedding?”

Shawn looked over, a piece of popcorn hanging onto his lip like a lifeline. His cheeks were flushed and he still looked a little sweaty from the show he just played at TD Garden. He knew you were doing the planning to keep yourself from descending into madness (well, not entirely, but you only brought it up when you really missed him). “I think we should do a summer/fall sort of wedding, like when the leaves are red but it isn’t freezing by 5, ya know?”

You hummed in agreement, a smile picking at the corners of your mouth. “I completely agree. Do you want it to be outdoors then, because of the leaves?”

Shawn took another few things of popcorn from the bag and popped them into his swollen lips, he always licked them when he was frustrated by how a show went, or just when his mind was reeling. “I think we should get married outdoors, and then have the reception indoors. Kind of like-”

“Twilight...”

You both looked at the screen and snorted, sending both of you into fits of hysteria. “Shawn, we really base our relationship off of those books, didn’t we?” He looked over, licking his lips once again. “Explain, babe. I get a little bit, but our whole relationship?”

You shuffled in the bed a little bit, “Hear me out, Shawn-y boy. We met when you were hurt and I had to save you, or more-so your career. Edward saved Bella from the car, right? Right. So, there’s that. Then that girl who you worked on the album with tried to get you on the few dates, but that was long after we were official. Boom, Jacob plot line. Then you leave me for your first tour, which I get 100%, so don’t be upset over that. But the girl you worked with saw you kind of sad and made it her mission to befriend you and then attempt to change your mind over me... And our song is the one from their wedding, and we want an outdoors-y wedding.....”

Shawn looked at the screen, then back to the popcorn leaking butter in his hands. “Damn. So you’re saying that I’m Bella?” You began to shake your head, cheeks turning red. “Maybe I meant that wrong, but-”

“No, no you’re saying I’m Bella. Does that mean I get to wear the dress? I cannot wait to get married with no emotions and then have the ugliest CGI baby in the history of cinematics. Aren’t you so excited for that, my love?”

“Absolutely thrilled.”

The alarm on your phone blared once again, pulling you from Shawn. You picked up the phone, getting a few “Merry Christmas” texts from family and friends. You assumed Shawn was out partying with his crew mates, plus it must’ve been a busy day altogether. Turning off the alarm and standing, you pulled on the slippers and followed your routine again.

Once it got to 6:07, and still no text from Shawn, you decided to call him. Immediately, you were sent to voicemail. With a sigh, you waited for voicemail.

“Hey bubs, Merry Christmas! I miss you more than ever, it’s snowing here pretty rough. I know you’d probably go outside right about now and insist to make a snowman or some angels, so that might be a mission for me after work. Um, I wanted to let you know that I love you so much, and I hope you’re having fun on tour... The apartment isn’t the same without you here, especially around this time. You’re probably having fun with your friends and I don’t wanna intrude on that, so I’ll hang up. I love you Shawn, be careful. Stay safe, come back to me soon. Bye.”

Wiping the tear that fell down your cheek, you stepped outside your apartment, hopped into the elevator and began the commute to your shift. You got to work on record time, beginning your patient rounds and vitals, then celebrating with the coworkers. Working 6:30 AM-9:30 PM would be a tough one, but whatever to keep you under that roof. Plus, double-time because of the holiday.

Once it hit 9:30, you booked it out of the hospital and onto the shuttle. Your eyes were barely open as you saw the texts from Shawn.

(Shawn) 7:59 AM: Hey babe, I’m so sorry I didn’t answer your call! I can’t wait to see your face tonight, you still up for FaceTime?

(Shawn) 9:26 AM: I bet you’re busy, but I’m gonna be in a few conferences and doing press so I won’t be able to talk for a while. Love you!

(Shawn) 3:14 PM: (Y/N) I don’t think we can FaceTime tonight, I have to do something for a fan and it’s really important. I am so sorry.

(Shawn) 8:44 PM: Are you mad at me or are you still working?

(Shawn) 9:32 PM: Something is waiting for you at home, it’s your gift. I hope this can make up for the call!

You hopped out of the shuttle, heart feeling extra heavy as you walked into the apartment. The string lights and streamers along the walls were taunting you as the elevator brought you to your floor, and you tried to compose yourself until you would get inside. Stepping up to your door, you looked for the present, to no avail.

(Y/N) 9:45 PM: Shawn I don’t see a package

(Shawn) 9:45 PM: Mom must’ve brought it inside, I’m sure it’s there.

With a huff, you shoved the key into the door, and walked inside. Chucking your purse and coat onto the hooks, while flinging off your shoes, you composed yourself enough to look for the package. If he got it express-shipped it had to be good. Checking the kitchen was no luck, and the living room looked normal.

(Shawn) 9:48 PM: Bedroom, babe

With a gasp, you quickly buzzed to the bedroom, and laid your hand on the door. You stopped, hesitant to what was behind the door. What if it isn’t him? Taking a deep breath, you dismissed the negative thought and opened.

The room was filled with lit tea lights, rose petals on the bed and the floor, and Shawn. He was standing there in that chunky-white knit sweater you loved, with flushed cheeks and watery eyes, holding a bouquet of flowers, and your favorite song playing softly in the background.

You gasped, running into his arms with a squeal and sob, him mimicking the sound. He held onto the small of your back, and one hand on the back of your neck, and you felt his tears falling onto your skin. “I missed you so much, (Y/N). You don’t even know.” He pulled back slightly pressing his lips to yours in a soft embrace.

After a minute of kissing, you pulled back. “Merry Christmas, Shawn.”

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

#shawn #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #imagine #love #christmas #lumineshawn

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years ago

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Menorah Lights, Blessing of Life

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: I would LOVE to see some Everlark Hanukkah fluff there’s way to little out there right now. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T - for non-explicit: adult situations, childbirth description, and breastfeeding.

Canon typical violence. Vague reference to a war zone/conflict.

This work contains religious and cultural imagery and traditions. There’s also some use of the Yiddish language, as well as some Hebrew. There will be a glossary and more in-depth commentary at the end of the fic, when this piece gets cross posted to AO3 in a few days. Peeta makes a quick reference to 1 Samuel 1:27 towards the end part of the fic.

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for this prompt. I have to be honest, and disclose I’ve never witnessed a Hanukkah celebration personally, and most of the events depicted in this story concerning the festival is a product of hours of research. I apologize for any inaccuracies or if I’ve inadvertently misrepresented any cultural or religious aspect of the holiday.

Extensive thanks to @rosefyrefyre, who was kind enough to beta read, spell check my Hebrew, direct me to some great sites to aid my research, and serve as the best resource for Judaism accuracy I could’ve asked for! Rose, I always learn something from my interactions with you. I’m grateful for your willingness to share your knowledge.

***Hannah: Hebrew origin. Means: ‘grace’/‘favor’; attributed meaning: ‘He (God) has favoured me with a child’.***

Happy Hanukkah to those celebrating the holiday!

————-

The house is reverently quiet, despite being crammed to the gills with all our family and friends.

Peeta checks his watch nervously for the fifth time in ten minutes. He’s so rigid, I know his leg will bother him so much tonight, he’ll take hours to fall asleep.

I smile at him, making a mental note to warm some lavender infused oils to massage the stump of his leg. It’s the least I can do for my husband.

Peeta lost his lower leg protecting me from shrapnel during an attack while deployed to the Middle East some 16 years ago. I was rendered deaf in my left ear on the same attack…we are a perfect match, my husband and I; he has to wear a prosthetic leg to get around, I have to wear a hearing aid, and that doesn’t even begin to cover the burn marks and other scars we sustained in the service.

“I think we should…” he says quietly, motioning to the small table we placed by the window earlier.

I turn to my cousin, Johanna, and nod.

Jo winks at Peeta and shuts the lights off, while I pull back the curtains from the windows and tie them up, revealing a waning sunset over the rooftops of our neighborhood.

Peeta stands a pace behind me, transfixed by the slim line of flaming orange in the horizon being swallowed by deep purples and indigos of the falling night. It’s Peeta’s favorite color.

“Almost time, Katniss!” he whispers, giddy, placing a match box on the table at the foot of the menorah.

There’s a soft buzz behind us, which means everybody is shuffling closer to the window. Outside, the world is busy with cars driving by, splashing the dirty slosh of melted snow accumulated on the ground from days ago; a dog barks somewhere in the distance, and a couple of people hustle home; but the thing that really catches my eyes, is that in a few houses down the street, candlelights start to flicker to life on windows and front porches, announcing the start of Hanukkah.

“Should—should we do it?” Peeta asks leaning closer to the window pane, clearly seeing the other houses already lighting their candles.

“There’s still a sliver of sun. They just can’t see it because they’re facing our way, against it.” I mutter back.

This is Peeta’s first Hanukkah as a host, so he’s a little eager. In fact, my beautiful husband was beside himself when everything fell into place for us to host tonight’s celebration. If he could’ve gotten his way, we’d have everyone over to light the menorah the whole eight days of the festival. But, we are expecting the arrival of our very own little miracle any day now, so hosting the first day was a very generous compromise with our family.

The thought warms me inside, and I caress my protruding stomach absentmindedly, staring at the darkening sky.

The sun finally sinks. “Now!” I grin at my other half.

Peeta grins back, handing me the candles. Two of them, to be precise; long and blue. If my Tatte —my father— were here, he would’ve insisted we used olive oil and wicks instead, but it’s only Peeta’s first Hanukkah leading, and he’s so nervous about the whole thing already…candles are perfectly acceptable.

First, I place the shamash— “Shamash means helper candle, Katniss,” Tatte would explain— in the middle peg of our menorah, so it sits higher than the rest. Then, I place the one other candle in the rightmost holder, to signify today is the first night of the Festival of Lights.

Peeta passes me the matches, and I light the shamash. I smile at him, encouragingly, and mouth the words: “Your turn,”

He takes a deep breath, wiggling his fingers at his sides, and then starts reciting the first blessing: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Asher kid-shanu bi-mitzvo-tav vi-tzee-vanu, Li-had-leek ner shel Chanukah.”

His Hebrew isn’t perfect, but he recites the whole prayer exactly as we practiced.

My mother, who’s standing with Peeta’s family, translates quietly, to not disrupt too much, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah light.”

Peeta waits a moment, and then recites the second prayer: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Shi-asa nee-seem la-avo-teinu, Ba-ya-meem ha-haim baz-man ha-zeh.”

Again, my mother translates, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time.”

Peeta’s blue eyes shine joyfully in the dim of night.

“Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Sheh-he-che-yanu vi-kee-yimanu vi-hee-gee-yanu laz-man ha-zeh.”

He finishes the third blessing, which we only say on the first night, with utmost reverence, and holds my gaze for only a second.

My mother translates this prayer as well, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.” She explains this one we only say once, during the first day, but the first two, we recite every night.

I take the shamash from its holder and tip the flame into the wick of today’s candle, so it starts the mitzvah of the night. After the light has been kindled, we —the ones in attendance who speak Hebrew— sing Ha-nerot Halalu together.

When we finish, my sister, Primrose, starts singing Maoz Tzur, and Peeta turns puppy-dog eyes on me, because he loves my singing.

I chuckle ruefully before opening my mouth and letting the lyrics spill like second nature. The rest of the attendees join in singing, and suddenly everyone is participating in some way. When the song ends, another one starts, and the atmosphere grows animated and joyful the longer it goes. As it should!

Peeta’s brothers came with their families, so he goes to them to chat. My mother has been sitting with them, explaining the proceedings, since it’s the first time they’ve joined us for Hanukkah.

The candlelight flickers from the menorah, the only light in the room, just as we finish another song, and then Uncle Haymitch staggers into the middle of the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. The children peer up with interest, because most of them have known Haymitch long enough to guess what’s to come.

Haymitch moves his arms just a fraction, and all the kids slip out of their seats like an exhale, and then, the paunchy, ol’ grump is throwing small, shiny, gold disks up towards the ceiling, crowing: “Gelt! Gelt! Gelt for everyone!”

“I think he believes he’s some kinda middle-aged, Jewish Oprah!” Blight, Johanna’s husband, cackles somewhere behind me, as the children descend like locusts on the chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil scattered all over the room.

Peeta encourages his younger nephews to get in on the fun.

Between all three of our siblings, Peeta and I have seven nephews— two of them are teenagers— and one niece.

The adults shake their heads and smile from the sidelines, watching the children in merriment.

When all the gelt has been collected from the floor, Peeta asks the children if they would rather: eat, play dreidel, or hear a story. Since the oldest child in attendance is 8½, the kids settle on a story pretty quick.

I sink into the cushions of our plushest chair to watch my husband corral the little ones onto the rug for their story; one of my hands rests lazily on my heavily pregnant belly, while I hold a half eaten sugar cookie in the other one.

“So…who can tell me what we’re celebrating for the next eight days?” Peeta starts.

There’s a soft chorus of kiddy voices calling “Hanukkah!”

“That is right!” Peeta agrees, his eyes are wide, excited, merry, “and Hanukkah is a very important party, because it reminds us of the Miracle of Lights and the victory of the Sons of Israel over the mean ol’ gentiles—“

“Mamme says gentiles aren’t ‘all’ bad!” cries out Bekka, Johanna and Blight’s little girl, who looks like a carbon copy of her mother, except with long, wavy hair.

“Um…you’re right, I should’ve said ‘Greek invaders’ instead of gentiles…my bad—”

“Uncle Peeta…” one of our nephews— on Peeta’s side— blinks owlishly at him, “What’s a gentile?”

“Non-Jewish people,” says Asher, one of Prim’s twins.

“Oh…like Muggles are non-magic folk?” asks another of the Mellark boys.

“I guess so,” answers the other twin, Aspen.

“I don’t think we are Jewish,” comments one of Peeta’s nephews, turning inquisitive blue eyes to my husband and then to his own parents, “Are we?”

“No, buddy, you aren’t a Jew—“

“Uncle Haymitch says gentiles are helpless,” interrupts Aspen, shaking his head sadly, “He says the goyish thing gentiles do is putting mayo in their pastrami sammiches! So, if neither of you don’t put mayo in your pastrami, then you’re alright. You’re mishpachah, Bran!”

“Um…what does that mean?” asks Bran.

“We’re your mishpachah, right, Mamme?” inquires Asher.

“It means ‘family’,” explains Prim, making the Mellark boys look relieved, and even proud.

“Are you a gentile too, Uncle Peeta?” asks Asher, “Uncle Haymitch says you used to be his favorite Shabbos Goy of all times before you married Auntie Katniss.”

I almost choke on my cookie.

Peeta wheezes out a tiny chuckle, but is interrupted by my enraged sister.

“Boys!” Prim rushes from her chair, her daughter half asleep in her lap; she dumps the toddler into her husband’s arms to stand in front of the twins with her hands on her hips. “That is not nice! What have I said about repeating all the mishegas Uncle Haymitch says?”

“Not to…” the twins mumble contritely.

“Oy! I’m sitting right here, Sunshine!” Haymitch calls out. “Plus, kinder wisdom,” he pronounces it the Yiddish way, like the start of kindergarten, “it’s still wisdom!”

The twins are 7, but they can be a menace and clever to boot.

Haymitch continues, “Everybody knows the Boy used to be pretty helpful back in the day. I was almost sad when Sweetheart finally snatched him up, despite it being the smartest thing she’s ever done,”

“Haymitch…” I ground a low warning.

It’s a well known fact I kept digging my heels in against Peeta’s subtle advances for years, despite having feelings for him myself; I’m grateful my beautiful husband persevered though, because looking at him now, I can confidently say that our marriage, our family, would’ve happened anyway, despite my deep seated fears, the physical and mental toll being in a war zone took on us both, and all the heartbreak in between…

Unlike my mother, Peeta did not convert to Judaism in order to marry me. He did that on his own, way before I agreed to make our odd relationship official. I tried to persuade him from converting though— he does love Christmas and bacon— but again, he was committed to our faith with an iron will only the grave can quell.

“Eh!” Haymitch waves me off, “Nobody can win with you girls. Not even kvelling about one of your husbands!”

I sink deeper into my chair, sufficiently mollified. The old man can gush all about Peeta all he wants, as long as he doesn’t comment on me.

But Haymitch has a big mouth; he used to give me a hard time for my apparent ‘prickly personality’, often telling me I was so surly, I was practically gornisht helfn—beyond help—and once, he even said, I was as charming as a slug. I retorted he was probably looking at a mirror, and that was the end of that.

When Peeta started hinting at wanting more out of the casual arrangement we’ve had since the Army, and to my chagrin, two more suitors sprung out of nowhere, Haymitch had the gall to tell me that before Peeta, I was as romantic as dirt. Peeta gave him an earful for that one, though. It was glorious seeing Haymitch properly chastised by his favorite Shabbos Goy.

I giggle at the memory.

I finally relented a couple of years ago, letting my fears go. Haymitch was the first to congratulate me when I announced I was dating Peeta, like a normal couple. My uncle fixed me with a stare that said he expected me to really try, because this boy was a true catch, or as he called him then, “a mensch if he ever saw one.”

I happen to agree.

I sigh, massaging my ribs where the baby is digging its tuchis in.

Haymitch gets away with a great deal of things on the simple account that he was the only person who actually accepted, and welcomed our mother into our family, when she married our father. Everyone else called her an opinionated shiksa behind my parents’ backs, probably thanks to my Bubbe…dear old Grandma really disliked the idea of my father marrying a gentile girl, despite being clear as day how much they loved each other.

My sister glares at Haymitch too, then turns to her sons, “It’s the first day of Chanukah, nu?” The boys nod in affirmative, “Then be good, so Uncle Peeta can finish the story—“

“But, Mamme…we know the story!”

Prim gives them The Look and shuts them up right away. “Bannock, Graham, and Bran don’t know the story. They’re our guests, and we are called to be hospitable to everyone, right?”

I stare at Prim with mild amusement. She’s such a MOM!

“Yes, Mamme.”

I wonder if I’ll be able to master ‘the stare’ as well as my baby sister has?

Prim told me once, that everything she knows about mothering, she learned from the years in which I took care of her, after our father died, and our mother fell into a debilitating depression that almost killed us all from starvation and hebetude.

I have mixed feelings about that assessment, first, because: At first I was just trying to keep our situation hidden from others, so I made sure Prim and I were clean and presentable for school, that all homework was made on time, that we studied our Torah lessons, and that we attended Hebrew school without missing a class. I made sure Prim ate at least once a day, even if that meant I went without.

There were things I couldn’t provide for my sister, simply because I didn’t know how, and when the pantry was empty, I started secretly raiding the trash containers behind the stores in our neighborhood.

I was 11 then.

That’s when the first and only interaction with Peeta— or as I knew him then: the baker’s son— occurred before the Army.

Peeta had been watching me steadily lose weight and figured something wasn’t right. Then he saw how I dove out of his folks’ bakery’s garbage container and emerged empty handed, because trash had already been collected.

Instead of sneering, bullying me or calling the police, Peeta gave me two, fresh loaves of bread— the chiefest of foods in our culture— and thanks to his generosity, I figured out how to keep Prim, mother and myself fed when money was tight, hunting squirrels and little birds, long enough for my mother to find the strength to get the help she needed to get better.

Secondly, in my adult life, I’ve learned to appreciate our mother’s position. She had a really hard time with life in general. Her family turned their back on her when she converted to Judaism, yet people in our community mistrusted her because of my grandma’s own prejudice, the fact that my mother was a nurse and every now and then her hospital wouldn’t (or couldn’t) honor her religious freedom to observe the Shabbat didn’t help her case. People started trusting her after they saw her care for the sick in the community, often paying from her own pocket for their treatments.

Peeta never struggled fitting in with my family. Then again, he’s so sweet and friendly with anyone, always so happy and ready to lend a hand…why everyone in our community loves him, and welcomed him with open arms as one of us. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to picture my loving, sweet husband as a seasoned Army veteran, who’s seen his share of destruction and death…then again, maybe it is because he’s seen humanity at its worst that he makes the extra effort to stay a pacifist and he chooses to show The Lord’s love unto others.

“Sorry, Peeta, please continue with the story. You’re doing a lovely job!” says my sister.

I chance a glance at my husband, and see the mirth in his bright, blue eyes.

“Thank you Prim,” he says, turning back to the boys, with wonder in his voice. “But, I was thinking, and this might be the best idea I ever had! What if we let the boys tell the story of Hanukkah tonight, since it’s true, they know it better than I do? They are incredibly smart young men!”

“Avadeh!” exclaims Haymitch from his spot.

The twins wiggle with excitement, and both of them turn eager, hazel eyes to their mother, seeking approval.

Prim takes a deep breath and nods.

Both boys turn their bronze haired heads back to Peeta, enthusiastically.

“Alright, go on then, tells us what happened!” Peeta encourages.

Asher starts, “The brave heroes, called the Maccabees, kicked out the Greek gentiles that wanted to make the people of Israel pray to their gentile gods! Then the priests came to ‘re-medicate’ the Holy Temple—“

“Rededicate!” Thom, Prim’s husband, corrects from the back of the room, but the boys are on a roll now.

“‘Redadecate’ the Holy Temple, by lighting the menorah. So, they looked all over the place, but found only one jar of ‘puridified’ oil—“

“Purified!”

“Yes, what Tatte said! They only found enough of the good oil, to light the menorah for one day!”

Asher pauses for effect, while all the adults react to the suspense accordingly, gasping and murmuring.

Aspen continues the narration after a second.

“At first, the priests thought: oh no! We don’t want to light the menorah for only one day, it needs to burn all the time to clean all the filth the Greeks left behind, so we can praise Adonai again!”

Hushed voices comment their approval.

The other twin picks up the story. “But they decided, that even one day, was better than none at all, so they used that little bit of oil, and fired up the lamp, and the lights burned for eight times straight!”

“Eight days…” corrects Thom.

“Eight days straight!”

“It was a miracle!”

Everyone claps, excitedly.

“The priests had time to…” Asher cranes his neck, seeking his father in the crowded living room, and then smiles, enunciating his word with precision, “‘purify’ more olive oil, to add to the menorah from then on!”

“That’s why we celebrate Hanukkah every year! To remember how our people defended their freedom,”

“And won back the Holy Temple,”

“And The Lord accepted their effort with a miracle of lights!”

The whole room erupts in cheers and song. Everybody hugs each other in celebration.

After a moment, our auntie Effie calls out, “Oh what wonderful storytelling, Tattelles!” She rushes over to the twins and smacks loud, wet kisses, on both of the boys’ cheeks, leaving red lipstick all over their wincing faces.

The twins wipe their cheeks with the backs of their hands, and Prim just sighs, hugging her sons to her chest. “Well done, Asher. Well done, Aspen.”

Peeta pats them both on the head, and ever the attentive host, directs everyone to help themselves to the many treats he made.

“Is everything fried?” asks one of Peeta’s sisters-in-law.

“For the most part,” I hear my mother say, fondly. “To commemorate the miracle of the oil, traditionally, Hanukkah food is fried.” She explains, patiently. “Everything is delicious, and Peeta and Katniss made quite the spread.”

My mother busies herself, setting up a stack of napkins on the table where we placed all the food; she then serves latkes to the Mellarks.

Haymitch grabs her hand and pulls her to sit by me. “Come rest, sit with your daughter, enjoy the lights. I’ll shmooze the bakers now, nu!”

My mother comes to sit next to me. She smiles tiredly, “How are you feeling, zeeskeit?”

I grin, she’s using the same term of endearment Tatte used to call us. It means ‘sweetheart’.

“I’m alright. Just a little tired. My back is killing me and I think I have gas, ‘cause my belly keeps rumbling and tensing up.”

My mother arches a dark blonde eyebrow, “Maybe the baby is on the way?”

“I suppose that could be a possibility,” I shrug. I’m 6 days shy of my due date, but the doctor says I’m healthy, and he expects no complications, whatsoever, plus first time mothers can be early.

Thom brings out a dreidel to play with the children.

My toddler niece rubs her eyes grumpily— she’s got gray eyes, like my father did. Like mine. Mother and Prim are blonde and blue eyed, but I favored my father in appearance…I wonder who my child will like? I hope it’s a little of both Peeta and I— the girl clings to her father’s arm, watching her brothers and cousins spin the top, suspiciously. Once she realizes gelt is involved in the game, she perks up a little, and tries to spin the dreidel to mixed results.

Everyone sits around the children, eating latkes dipped in applesauce or sour cream; Peeta decided not to serve any meat tonight, so we could eat dairy products. Effie is dipping hers in salsa…what an odd woman!

Johanna is eating an entire block of cheese, noshing on it like a mouse.

Peeta brings me and my mother sufganiyot; he smiles sheepishly. “These were a hit.” He says, “they’ve already disappeared from the tray.”

I stare at him with wide eyes. “Why does that surprise you, babe? Your cooking is amazing!”

Peeta rubs the back of his head, bashful. “Eh, it would be embarrassing if the baker couldn’t handle jelly filled donuts, nu?” he whispers, kneeling in front of my chair.

“Nonsense,” I say equally quietly, “you are the most talented person I know.” I kiss him on the forehead, after pushing back the ashy waves of hair falling into his eyes.

I hope our child has wavy hair like Peeta does! Mine is boring…not so much the dark as ink color, but the way it’s so thick and straight, the only way to keep it up is in braid.

Peeta gazes at me with so much love, my heart skips a beat.

“Have I told you recently, just how grateful I am to have you as my wife, lover and partner in life?” He reaches up to caress my face, and suddenly the hubbub of the party fades, leaving us in a bubble of our own.

“I’m grateful too!” I say, curling my sugar coated fingers around his, cupping my cheek.

It’s a veritable miracle that Peeta and I are here today, married and with a child on the way.

We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and frequented the same places; yet, despite crossing each other’s paths often, and outside the lone time with the bread when we were eleven, we never truly interacted with each other until we found ourselves deployed to the same base overseas.

Peeta enlisted in the Army fresh out of high school. I enlisted much later, when it became glaringly obvious that if I was going to pursue any higher education, it would have to be paid for by the military, since every penny Mother and I made, went straight into Prim’s Med school fund.

Prim took a couple of breaks from school while building her family, but she’s a pediatrician now, beloved by her patients and their parents.

Thom is in the field as well, as a Physical Therapist. He was Peeta’s PT for a while; that’s how him and my sister met. They married years before we did.

Call it chance or providence, Peeta and I had no idea we were in the same camp, until our names got chosen for some grunt duty I can no longer remember. We recognized one another instantly, and became very close friends while in the service. Close enough to share cots and knock boots when the itch was too unbearable to ignore. We discovered we had more in common than just our hometown, and then…the worst day of our lives happened, cementing our dependence on the other, like only tragedy can.

While on a mission, our unit got attacked. Our Commander, a burly man named Boggs, called for extraction while we ran for cover from a volley of bullets raining on us. In the confusion, Boggs stepped on a landmine that blew off both his feet.

I rushed to him, pulling him back to safety. I didn’t think of the shrapnel flying everywhere, but Peeta— who had located me a second earlier— did. He made it to me somehow, and shielded my body with his own, earning a mangled leg full of lead for his troubles.

Boggs was beyond medical help; the poor man bled to death in my arms in the transport back to base. Peeta was badly hurt, losing blood quicker than anyone in the transport could stomach. I tried to help him as best I could, wishing I had my mother’s touch or Prim’s cleverness; I placed a tourniquet on Peeta’s thigh. It saved his life, but cost him his leg.

It wasn’t until we arrived back in camp, and the adrenaline and terror left my body, that I was able to feel my own wounds. I had second degree burns in several places of my body; the fire and heat miraculously spared my face. Then, I noticed the ringing in my left ear wouldn’t go away, and when it did, no other sounds came in.

I was honorably discharged for my damaged ear, but I requested to stay close to my buddy, Peeta Mellark, until he was stable enough to go back home. When questioned about this, I simply replied, “We protect each other. Is what we do.”

Peeta was discharged too shortly after. We got shipped back home to America together, which is how we’ve been ever since.

Peeta and I survived against the odds.

It took us months and lots of counseling to be able to sleep through the night without waking up screaming.

It took him years to convince me it was okay to let my guard down around my heart. I was always so scared I’d lose him to some unseen danger, and like my mother, fall into such a deep depression I could harm any potential children we had together, because in my heart of hearts I knew Peeta was it for me.

It took us five, ten, fifteen years to be where we are at, and that in itself is a miracle I’m grateful for.

“Peeta, darling, the candles are almost out,” says Effie, who apparently is eager to turn the lights back on.

“Alright, let’s see…” I stand up to check just how consumed those candles really are, and as soon as I do, my incompetent bladder releases all the pee I have in my body, and then some. “Feh!”

My mother gasps and pushes Peeta back, who was still kneeling close by. “Katniss, your water just broke!”

“What?! Already? Whatdowedo?!” Peeta is frantic, practically jogging in place, hands hovering uselessly around my belly.

Effie screeches in a very uncharacteristic fashion. “Oh! What a big, big, big day this is, darlings! Katniss, doll, you might get to hold your very own bundle of joy in your arms on the first day of Hanukkah! What a blessing!”

“Well, first things first,” says my mother, going into nurse mode. “Everyone, calm down! This child is not about to drop just yet. Second, Katniss needs to get out of these clothes and into clean ones. Then we need to get you packed and ready to go to the hospital. Peeta, dear, you need to call the doctor, and let them know your wife’s water broke, and you’re heading to the hospital soon.”

“Okay! Yeah…on it!” says Peeta chewing nervously on his lower lip.

He reluctantly steps aside to make the call. By then, my sister is moving people around to get me through the room.

Delly, Peeta’s sister-in-law, comes from who-knows-where with an armful of towels to mop up the floor.

“Thank you,” I offer embarrassedly.

Delly waves me off, “Oh no, honey, don’t you worry about it. I know how these things go. You have more important stuff to think of right now. We will clean this place up, and probably call on grandma and grandpa Mellark, to let them know.”

I give her a hug, because she’s the nicest person I know, and barely hold back an ugly sob.

Peeta comes back from calling the doctor just as my mother is helping me into a pair of baggy sweatpants. Prim’s going through my bag triple checking what I packed, despite my protests that both Peeta and I have been checking on it every day for the last week.

“Everything is ready, Katniss. The doctor is on the way to the hospital. There’s a triage nurse already waiting for you, our paperwork is being processed as we speak, so all we have to do is sign it when we arrive, and Effie and Haymitch are taking over hosting duties from us.”

“Oh great!” I sigh, “you can say goodbye to all the wine in the house if those two are in charge,”

“Is that sarcasm I detect? That means the contractions aren’t even painful yet…” says Prim dryly. Then she and my mother giggle.

I glare at them, rubbing the back of my hips, my bones back there kind of burn.

Peeta seems confused and wisely keeps his mouth shut. He grabs the hospital bag I packed for me and the baby, a week ago, and shoulders a backpack for himself, he packed almost a month ago.

My mother rides with us to the hospital, and since everyone knows her and my sister there, I get extra pampered by the nursing staff.

My obstetrician, Dr. Aurelius, checks on me as soon as I’m put in the hospital gown; he’s a little concerned about my blood pressure, so the nurses keep an even closer eye on me. At 32 I’m not at any greater risk of things going wrong than any other mother-to-be, but this is my first child, so I endure their over prodding gratefully.

Labor itself goes quickly, only a couple of hours from the water breaking to the crowning. Peeta holds my hand through it all; he tends to me lovingly, feeding me ice chips, blotting sweat from my face and neck, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement into my ear, and when he’s not talking to me or the medical staff, he prays.

After surviving a war zone, second degree burns and a few broken bones, I think that giving birth is perhaps the least painful experience of all. Not in the literal sense of course— giving birth physically hurts like a mother!— but in the psychological-emotional sense. I’m going through this trial for love, with the expectation of meeting someone amazing in the end.

But when it’s time to push, a fear older than time itself chokes me up. “I can’t do this! Let the baby stay in my belly…I can keep the child safe here, please!”

“Sweetheart, look at me,” says Peeta cupping my face in his hands, “You are the bravest, most selfless person I know. I’m not denying how scary this is, bringing an innocent into the world, but you’re not alone…we have each other, and we will face this fear like we’ve faced any other fear, and we’ll beat it into dust!”

“Together?” My voice wavers.

“Together!” he vows.

“Katniss…the baby’s crowning,” says Dr. Aurelius, “This is it! On your next contraction, I need you to push real hard, alright?”

I nod, exhausted; Peeta squeezes my hand in his, and I squeeze right back.

“Here it comes!” I bear down with all my might and growl all the breath out of my lungs, and suddenly, the best sound in the world fills the delivery room: the meowling of my newborn reaches my ears.

“It’s a girl!” calls the doctor from between the stirrups holding my legs up.

The man holds the screeching child up, so we can see her, and my whole world shrinks to her tiny shape.

Peeta is crying.

I’m crying too!

My mother is somewhere in the background singing something I can’t quite catch, and everyone around is bustling to get my brand new baby girl cleaned up and measured. Then finally she’s placed on my chest, and my husband and I can’t stop staring and caressing her.

“Shalom, sheifale,” I sigh in contentment, kissing my baby’s forehead.

“Welcome, little one!” Peeta murmurs. Our daughter wraps her whole hand around her father’s index finger and holds fast to it.

Again, it feels like we are in this hermetic bubble, where only Peeta, myself, and now our newborn, exist. Meanwhile the doctor and nurses are still working on me, but that doesn’t matter. My family is finally whole, and that too is a miracle full of light!

“Mazel Tov, my dears!” says my mother, smiling at Peeta and me. “I’ll go tell the people in the waiting room the good news…do you have a name picked out already?” she asks tentatively, her face lit with happiness and relief.

“Hannah!” says Peeta right away. “For I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted my plea.” Peeta’s eyes widen, then he looks down at me sheepishly, “unless, you have something else in mind?”

“No!” I laugh, “Hannah is perfect!” I hold the babe higher on my bosom, and tilt her head towards my mother, “Hannah, say hello to Bubbie Lily, she’s my Mamme, and I am yours!”

My mother giggles, “Happy birthday, Hannah Mellark, and happy Hanukkah, zeeskeit.” My mother leans closer, and gives Hannah’s head a peck. “Next time I see you, there will be others with me…your mishpachah, who are eager to meet you, sheifale!”

“We’re almost done here, and you can see some of your family. But be mindful of visiting hours!” says Dr. Aurelius, pushing back from the instrument table.

We all say our thanks to the staff, and my mother goes to talk to our family in the waiting room. Peeta’s led to the nursery, to give Hannah her first bath. Once the baby is dressed and swaddled into a hospital blanket, Peeta snaps a couple of pictures of her with his smart phone and sends it to everyone one we know. The caption reads: “Hannah Mellark, because G-d favored us with a child!”

The nurse helping Peeta, takes two of those thin hats they give all the newborns, and fashions it into a single hat with a big bow on the front. Our daughter’s head will be warm and stylish.

Back in the room, Hannah latches onto my breast easily enough, and to our surprise opens her eyes, to show deep blue peepers, like her father’s!

“Look, Daddy, she’s got your eyes!“ I exclaim.

“Can she call me Tatte?” Peeta asks quietly, as if asking permission.

I nod, “Hannah, your Tatte gives the best hugs in the world!”

The visitors file in. My mother-in-law falls in love with Hannah, her first and only granddaughter. Peeta’s father tears up a little bit, and hugs his son, kissing his temple. I’ve never seen the Mellarks so happy and moved. A baby would do that, I guess.

After our siblings come to visit, Effie and Haymitch make a quick appearance. Haymitch holds Hannah the longest; he sings her a song in Hebrew, then says a blessing over her.

Effie pulls Peeta aside, “What we discussed…” she says demurely, smiling softly, and hands him a bag.

Since she already gave us practically half of Buy Buy Baby at our shower, I have no idea what else she could’ve gotten, but my husband’s entire demeanor lights up like fireworks when he peeks in the bag. He hugs Effie and thanks her profusely.

I fall asleep after a while.

When I wake up again, the room’s mostly dark, except for a soft, flickering light.

Hannah is not in her bassinet, so I sit up with a start, only to find the most wonderful scene in front of me: Peeta’s holding the babe by the window looking down the road. The blinds are open, and on the sill sits a child size menorah. The shamash is lit, but the day one candle is not.

“Peeta?” I call softly.

My husband turns, smiling, “You’re awake! We didn’t want to disturb you. You had a hard, busy day, but…” he shrugs, “It’s Hannah’s first Hanukkah, and I figured you wouldn’t wanna miss it,”

No, I wouldn’t.

I get up, gingerly, and shuffle towards my family.

I cock my head and study the candelabra, which looks suspiciously like the kind business owners put in their offices along their Christmas trees and other wintry decor to show how inclusive they are. This one is smaller than regular menorahs, made of plastic, with a cord sticking from the side which is plugged into the wall besides the window. The flickering light I thought at first to be a real flame, is just a small bulb with a candlelight effect.

“Where did you get an electric menorah?” I ask skeptically.

“Effie,” my husband blushes. “She said it was okay, as long as we lit a kosher menorah, which we did at home,” he says a little defensively, with a lot of pleading generously sprinkled in between.

My father would’ve frowned at the decidedly un-kosher menorah.

Reading my expression, my sneaky husband harrumps, “This is a hospital, Katniss. I don’t think they’ll be thrilled to find there’s an open flame in a room housing a newborn, no matter what holiday you’re celebrating.”

I sigh. He’s right. Safety protocols should be observed, and we did light a traditional menorah already; plus, this one is practically a toy for the baby…technically a Hanukkah gift.

I relax my stance. I wasn’t aware that my shoulders were so tense during that exchange.

“Fine,” I acquiesce, “show me how does the thing work?”

Peeta grins, looking at ease holding our daughter in one arm like a pro. No wonder he’s always our nephews’ and niece’s favorite uncle.

He pulls a couple of bulbs from his pants pocket, and holds them on his palm for me to peruse. “All you do is screw these in the small sockets, just like placing the candles in a regular menorah. Then, you press this button, and it lights up!” He points at a small button at the base of the toy.

I nod, accepting his explanation.

Hannah wiggles a bit in her father’s arm, then makes an aggravated noise. Peeta adjusts the child against his chest, and looks at me, expectantly.

“Hannah’s waiting, and she’s probably getting hungry. I should know, I’m her Tatte!”

I snort a reluctant laugh. The man can drive me crazy, in an endearing sort of way. How can I deny my family anything?!

We say the blessings together, then Peeta whispers all the ceremonial rules on lighting the candles to our baby.

Hannah has her fist wrapped around his finger again, so he picks up the pretend shamash with the same hand, and touches the tip of the bulb into the opening, so— according to him— Hannah is lighting the day one candle herself…symbolically.

He screws the bulbs in their right places, and switches the candlelight on.

I must admit, it’s not as tacky as I feared it would be. I make a mental note to let Peeta know I’m glad he thought of this, later…probably tomorrow.

We sing quietly, not to disturb anyone else on our floor. After the ceremony of the candles is done, we hold onto each other, watching the flickering lights, while Peeta narrates the story of the Maccabees to Hannah.

Everything is quiet after that; Hannah fusses once, so I take her into my arms, and sing a lullaby.

Peeta has been staring at me all night like I hung the moon in the sky. He gazes at our daughter like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, and I’m sure my eyes reflect the same feelings as his.

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right now, and live in it forever.”

I smile up at him, who in turn is gazing at our daughter and me with adoration; my heart fills to bursting!

“I do too!” I stand on tiptoes, and kiss his cheek. “Happy Hanukkah, Peeta. Happy Hanukkah, Hannah.”

“Same to you too, sweetheart, and thank you Lord, for blessing our family with the miracle of life.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter #winter 2020 #alliswell21 #submission #prompt

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justjosty · 4 years ago

Text

Xmas with Josty

Tyson had asked you if you wanted to spend Christmas with his family this year

Even though you’d been dating for over a year this would actually be the first one spent together

You’d spend the days before Christmas doing all kinds of festive activities

Even though Tyson insisted he was the cook of the rookie household, he wasn’t much help when baking cookies.

He’d constantly distract you throwing various ingredients at you and steal bites of the cookie dough

“You’re going to get a stomach ache if you don’t stop now Tys”

“But real chefs are supposed to taste their food right?”

“Tasting does not mean eating half the bowl of batter before I even had the chance to put them in the oven, Josty”

Dancing to your Christmas playlist while waiting for the cookies to bake

He’d put up multiple mistletoes all around the house just so he could have more excuses to kiss you

Sleeping in his childhood bed that was definitely too small for two adults but you didn’t have a problem sleeping with half of your body on top of him

Walking around the streets of St. Albert, tucked under his arm, to look at the lights and the massive tree

Tyson reading his annual card to his mom on Christmas Eve, which had all of you tear up

You’d decided to write one too, to express how grateful you were for the Jost family letting you spend Christmas with them

Kacey telling every embarrassing story of Tyson she could think of, which resulted in him whining

“I still think you’re cute Tys” you said kissing giving him a quick kiss to make him stop pouting

Earning a “You guys are so cute it makes me sick” from Kacey

Him pulling you out of bed early on Christmas morning “Come on baby, Santa came!”

Him going to wake up Kacey like he did when he was 4 years old because he couldn’t wait to open his presents

He got you a framed print that showed how the stars were aligned in Denver on the night you shared your first kiss & some really pretty jewelry

You got him a watch and made him a friendship bracelet he could even wear during games

Opening his last present he was a bit confused “A stuffed animal puppy??”

Tyson really wanted to get a dog but with him away a lot during the season and you still very busy with finishing your degree it wasn’t an option at this point in time

“It’s a promise, we’ll get a real puppy once I finish my degree and we’ve got everything figured out”

“For real?? I love you!!!” he exclaimed before wrapping you in a hug

Lots of (family) pictures were taken during the week

Your favorites were the one where you and Tyson were sitting in front of the tree, having just opened your presents, staring lovingly into each others eyes and the one where you shared a kiss

Spending the afternoon outside, playing in the snow as if you were 5 years old again

Cuddling up on the couch with a hot chocolate to heat up again, the Polar Express playing on tv

That night both of you crawled into bed exhausted

“Thanks for letting me spend Christmas with you Tys”

“It wouldn’t feel like Christmas without you here y/n, I love you”

You didn’t really know what to say so you just poured all your love into a final kiss before falling asleep cuddled up against your big softie of a boyfriend

#tyson tuesday #tyson jost #josty #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost blurb #tyson jost hc #requested #aline writes #<- there i did it #josty:hc

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doyelikehaggis · 4 years ago

Text

Twelve Days of Rarepairs: Scanny | Scott McCall x Danny Mahealani (Teen Wolf)

Requested by @childofsquidward

The collie laying on the table is patient and docile as Scott finishes slotting the cone into place around her neck. She just stares up at him with big eyes, nudging against his hand with her nose.

Laughing, Scott rubs her head. Her tail gives a little wiggle in response.

"You know, you're the only one I've seen who isn't bothered by this thing," he tells her, scratching behind her ear.

She just gives a playful yip in response.

The bell rings over the front door, alerting Scott to someone entering the animal clinic. Somewhat pointless considering he heard the heartbeat first. But Lola's ears immediately perk up, and her tail bangs against the table.

Scott grins at Danny when he appears in the doorway, holding two festive coffee cups.

"You've been missed," he says.

Lola's already standing on the table, barking fondly at Danny. He laughs, and moves towards her, fuelling her excitement.

"By which one of you?" Danny jokes.

Scott's eyes widen. He opens his mouth, but he falters, and Danny's already focused on Lola again anyway. Heat rushes to his face. He quickly tries to regain some composure.

"Hey, girl! Oh, you look so good!" Danny coos. "Did Dr. McCall take good care of you?"

Scott tries to bite back a smile and fails. He's getting used to hearing his friends call him Dr. McCall, more as a joke, but something about the way Danny says it gives him this fluttering in his chest.

So, when he first saw him at the start of December, it was a surprise. He'd practically disappeared off the face of the earth for two years, and then suddenly he was back in town for the holidays, to see his family and friends.

But not only that, Scott hadn't quite realized just how attractive Danny is. Was he always that good-looking while they were at school together? Of course he was, everyone knew it. But Scott hadn't exactly been out to himself at that point, so seeing Danny back from New Orleans, even more tanned, with even more defined muscles—yeah, Scott might get a little nervous whenever he sees him now.

And it doesn't help that they seem to be seeing more of each other now than they did while at school. They run into each other in town. When Scott went back to fill in for Coach while he was away towards the end of the year, Danny just kept showing up, saying he was visiting a teacher to discuss something (he is, after all, in computer programming now, so it makes some semblance of sense), and they'd talk out on the field. He bmped into him while bringing his mom lunch at the hospital.

Scott even saw him while out with Lydia two weeks ago. He was catching up with Jackson, who was also back in town for the holidays, like everyone else.

And now at work, too. The universe seems to be playing some joke on him. He doesn't mind all that much, for once. As long as this isn't going to lead to him finding out that Danny's actually been turned into a vampire, or has been possessed by some new, evil spirit.

"Thank you," Danny says, lifting his eyes to Scott. Of course, Scott's still the one looking up at him, because it would appear Danny has had another growth spurt as well as everything else.

Scott realizes he isn't answering. Just gazing. He grins, and hastily tries to not be totally obvious.

"Just doing my job," he says with a shrug.

Danny rolls his eyes. "Yeah, but I know for a fact that this clinic should have been shut for the rest of the holidays. So, thank you for seeing her anyway."

Scott hesitates at that. "Well… you're a friend. And I had to come in today anyway. And—" he looks down at Lola, who's settled back down on the table, and gives her head another rub "—I couldn't just leave this one stranded on Christmas Eve."

"We both thank you, then." Danny then holds out one of the coffee cups. "A gesture to prove it."

"God, thank you," Scott says, gratefully accepting the cup and taking a drink. "I haven't had anything all day. Or since last night. Including sleep. I might be running on three Mountain Dews and a kitkat."

Danny raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "That… can't be good for you."

Scott just shrugs again. He'll probably feel the effects later on today, since it's currently only one-thirty in the afternoon. As long as he makes it to four to head to the station to see Stiles, then he can head back home and have a nap. And maybe food.

"I didn't know the life of a vet was so demanding."

"It's the holidays," Scott explains, taking another drink before continuing. The gingerbread-cinnamon-whatever is in this latte is the best thing he's ever had right now. "Lots of people want their pets better before Christmas and New Year. A lot of strays get found with bad injuries. Currently I have—"

Barking starts up from the dog room in the back. Scott smiles, gesturing towards the door as Lola once again perks up.

"—them. Eight labrador puppies. They're under a year old. Deaton and I were trying to get them rehomed before the holidays, but it didn't work out. That's why I was coming in to work anyway, since Deaton's out of town."

"Never mind, your job is clearly far more demanding than I thought." Danny smiles, glances down at Lola, then pauses. "Do you need a hand with them at all? They sound pretty eager for attention."

"Yeah, I was gonna take them out for a walk once I was finished up here," Scott says.

Danny's grin widens. "You planned to walk eight hyperactive labrador puppies by yourself? In the snow?"

Scott just gives another shrug. "They're not too hard to handle once they're outside."

The look Danny is giving him only intensifies the fluttery feeling in his chest. It's like something's tickling him from the inside. He can feel the heat beneath his skin, in his cheeks.

"Guess that whole Alpha thing really does give you an advantage, huh," Danny says, a certain teasing twinkle in his eyes but his grin sincere.

Scott has barely gotten used to the idea of Danny knowing about the supernatural at all, never mind him making casual comments about it. And especially not while he's looking at him like that.

"I don't know if it's anything to do with that," Scott says, shaking his head. "But… sometimes, yeah. It comes in handy."

Danny nods. The puppies are still barking in the back, trying to get Scott's attention.

"Well, I think Lola could use a walk after being so good about this," Danny says. He looks at Scott, smiling. "Mind if we join you? I can be pretty good with dogs, might help to take a couple off your hands for an hour."

Scott's eyebrows raise in surprise, and his heartbeat raises itself as well.

"You… but—" he frowns, his head tilting with a confused smile "—it's Christmas Eve. Don't you wanna get back to your family?"

"They won't miss me for a little while," Danny says, brushing it off. Then, because he seems to be catching on, he rolls his eyes, and says, "Please? You helped me with Lola when you clearly already had your hands full. I wanna do more than get you coffee."

Scott's heart drops into his stomach and lurches right back up. He swallows, and tries to keep his mind on one track, biting his lip.

"Uh… yeah," he breathes out before he can think twice. "You know what? That would be great. Thank you."

"No problem," Danny says, sincerely.

They get Lola to hop off the table, and head into the back room to get the others ready. Danny just laughs when he sees the little christmas hats Scott put on the ones that were happy to wear them.

As they're getting them all on their leashes, Danny casually adds, with a glance at Scott, "And if you were up for it, I'd like to get coffee with you sometime."

Scott accidentally clips the leash to his hand instead of the collar. He winces, quickly undoing it and fixing it to its right place instead. Then he looks over at Danny and his amused grin, his heart racing.

"Like—like a date?" he asks, hardly daring to believe that's what he means. Danny was never interested in him. Was he?

Scott's quickly going through every interaction he's ever had with him.

"Exactly a date," Danny corrects.

Scott's eyes are wide. His mouth opens, then closes. He wasn't prepared for this. Sure, the thought of Danny liking him back crosses his mind after Stiles and Lydia both insisted that he did after he told them about running into him all those times. But that doesn't mean he was prepared for it.

"You can say no," Danny says, giving another casual shrug as clips the last lead on to the last excited puppy. "I just thought I might as well ask. Waiting three years to do it was bad enough, I didn't want to seem totally pathetic by waiting four to at least know what you'd say."

"Three—what?" Scott asks in disbelief, sure that he must have somehow misheard. "You've wanted to ask me out for… three years?"

"Like I said, it was starting to seem pathetic." Danny looks at him, holding his stare with a soft gaze. "But, Lydia told me that you came out last year, and after seeing you, I figured I should at least ask."

"Wow. Uh…" Scott's mind is a mess, and he can't sort his thoughts out. Except for one. "I'd love to."

Danny blinks, thrown off his own guard now. Apparently even he wasn't prepared. But he quickly recovers, as does Scott, smiles forming across both their faces.

"Go on a date with you, I mean," Scott says, as if it needs further elaboration.

"Really?" Danny asks. "Uh… today?"

Scott's breath is knocked out of him, but he's already nodding again. "Yeah, absolutely."

He didn't think anything could make the fluttery feeling in his chest worse. Turns out, Danny smiling at him like he is right now is the thing that can.

"Okay, great," he says. "Then let's get these guys out of here."

Scott happily agrees. They head out of the back door after making sure the front is locked up. It has to be an hour or more that passes as they walk the dogs through town, taking an open path into the woods, through the snow. The whole way, Scott and Danny are talking, and laughing, catching up on the years they missed and in between.

#teen wolf #twedit #twrarepair #scanny #scott x danny #danny x scott #scott mccall #danny mahealani #twelve days of rarepairs #rowing the rarepair rowboat #myedits*#childofsquidward #wait no I actually really like this one #I never Really shipped these two before but ?? they were so easy to write for ??#and they're just so Soft????

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neerasrealm · 4 years ago

Text

Fishing Trip

In which Slender takes Jeff on a fishing trip. Some cheesy father-son bonding ft angsty teen Jeff and just some good old fashioned SlenderDad fluff because I haven’t written any in a long time. Word count: 3603

Jeff did not want to wake up.

It was far too early, his room wasn't even bright yet, and he could barely keep his eyes open. He groaned and rolled over, curling up and burying his face in his pillow.

"Jeff, come on." A deep voice said behind him. He groaned louder.

"It's too earlyyyy..." He whined. "Lemme sleep!"

The voice behind him sighed and yanked off his blankets. Jeff rolled over and glared at them. They were tall, with snow-white skin and absolutely no face. Slender. The eldritch monster that had taken Jeff in and insisted on calling himself 'father'. Jeff had vowed he'd never look at Slender as a dad like everyone else here did.

"Come on Jeffery, it'll be fun. It'll just be the two of us, you'll enjoy it." Slender insisted. Jeff glared at him.

"I'm not going fucking fishing." He snarled. Yes, fishing. Slender wanted to take him fishing, like a father and son would do. Disgusting. He wanted to be Jeff's dad so bad it was embarrassing.

"Watch your language young man." Slender replied, placing Jeff's clothes, neatly folded, on the bed using a black tendril. "Now get dressed. I'm making breakfast before we go and packing lunch. Is there anything specific you'd like?"

"Sleep." Jeff grunted back as he rolled over again. Slender sighed.

"Just get dressed." He murmured. "It's to be a warm day too, you know. You'll enjoy it." He added as he left the room. Jeff huffed and curled up again. Finally, some peace and quiet.

His bed abruptly creaked and shifted as another weight climbed onto it. Something nudged his back and he whined. "Smiiile…" he swatted at his pet hellhound. "C'mon dude, I'm tryna sleep."

Smile growled and grabbed Jeff's shirt in his mouth, yanking him into his back. Before the poor boy could do anything, Smile dropped his hoodie right onto his face. Jeff yanked it off and glared at him.

"Oh c'mon, you're in on this too?!"

"Rrr."

"Like hell I care about Slender wanting to spend time with me!"

"Rrrff!"

"So what if I hurt his feelings? I'm not his kid…" Jeff huffed. Smile glared at him sternly. He woofed quietly and climbed off the bed, wandering towards the door. Jeff sat up and watched him turn the handle with his mouth, then leave the room.

...fucking hell that dog knew how to guilt trip him.

Jeff reluctantly dragged himself downstairs after throwing on the ripped jeans, t-shirt and hoodie Slender had picked out for him. Nobody was around...nobody was even awake! With a sigh, Jeff shoved open the kitchen door. He was greeted by the sound of the radio playing, the smell of bacon, and the sight of Smile dog eating from his bowl.

Slender looked up from the stove and over at Jeff. He was wearing an orange button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and beige trousers. It was actually kind of odd seeing Slender outside his usual suit. He was also wearing a pink, frilled cooking apron. Because of course he was.

"Ah! There you are Jeffery." Slender greeted. "Sit down, breakfast is nearly ready."

Jeff grunted and sat down. A tendril reached over to the table and sat a mug in front of him. A mug topped with whipped cream, cocoa powder and marshmallows. He blinked. He grabbed the mug quickly and took a careful sip, getting whipped cream on his nose in the process. He was greeted by the taste of sweet hot chocolate. He pulled away and grinned. Slender's hot chocolate was the best he knew.

He'd already drank down half the mug by the time Slender served up breakfast. He'd made...everything. Two fried eggs, three sausages, four strips of bacon- how was Jeff supposed to eat all of that? He looked up as Slender placed two more plates in front of him. One stacked with slices of toast, and the other with a single croissant.

"Eat up now. This is supposed to keep you going for the next nine hours."

Jeff blinked. "Nine hours?!" He exclaimed. Slender nodded. "You're gonna starve me!"

"That's why I made all of this." Slender gestured to the food in front of Jeff. "Now eat up."

Jeff didn't need to be told twice. Luckily for Slender, the boy was already starving, and Jeff had a knack for eating way more than his body should be capable of holding. By the time Slender had finished packing lunch for later on, Jeff had (nearly) eaten everything, and downed all of his hot chocolate. Slender put their lunches away in a large bag he was bringing with him, along with some bottles of water and a couple of capri-suns. As a treat. He zipped up the bag and looked at Jeff.

"Are you finished?" He asked. Jeff grabbed his croissant and bit into it before nodding.

"Yep!" He stood up and smiled. "Your cooking is awesome man."

Slender seemed to smile. "Well thank you, Jeffery." He said. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, now," he took off his apron and slung the bag over his shoulder. He then moved over to the fridge and pulled out a somewhat big plastic box. He closed the fridge again and turned to look at the boy. ‘’Can I ask you to carry the fishing rods?’’

Jeff shrugged. ‘’I guess-’’ he replied almost-reluctantly. Slender chuckled a bit as Jeff followed him out of the room and to the front hall where he’d left the two fishing rods they were going to be bringing. Jeff took one in each hand, finding they were surprisingly light. Slender looked at him and adjusted his bags.

‘’Ready to go?’’

‘’Mmph.’’

The two of them walked through the woods. It was a bright, warm morning, and the woods were beautiful. Unfortunately, Jeff couldn’t fully enjoy it. He was tired. ‘’Why do we have to get up so early?’’ he groaned.

‘’Because, it’s most peaceful in the morning. And it means we can get back by early evening, so you’ll have more time to sleep.’’ Slender replied. ‘’You’ll be tired Jeffery, I can assure you that.’’

Jeff groaned again. ‘’Why? Isn’t fishing just- sitting around?’’ he glared up at the tall faceless entity. ‘’Why’re you even bringing me fishing? It’s boring!’’

‘’I take everyone fishing, Jeff. Whenever someone joins the household I make an effort to take them with me so we’ll establish a bond. It’s one on one communication, and it helps me understand them better.’’ he looked down at Jeff. ‘’And I want you to feel comfortable with me.’’ Jeff stared at him for a moment then looked down, muttering something to himself. Slender looked away and hummed. ‘’That and I get lonely out on the lake all day.’’

‘’Oh c’mon!’’ Jeff huffed. Slender laughed gently at the boy.

‘’You’ll have fun, I promise.’’ he said. Jeff grunted.

‘’Where are we even going anyway?’’ he asked. Slender didn’t answer, just hummed and stepped over a bush. Jeff waded through it and looked around. There was a large lake bordered with tall evergreens. Jeff watched as Slender walked over and extended a few tendrils. They dragged a large wooden boat out of the bushes and set it by the edge of the water. He turned and looked at Jeff.

‘’Come on, get in. I'll push the boat in for you.’’ Slender called calmly. Jeff walked over and climbed awkwardly into the boat. He set the fishing rods down and Slender placed down the bags, then pushed the boat gently into the water. Jeff wobbled a bit as the boat rocked. It didn’t help that Slender then just casually stepped into the boat, making it rock even more. He calmly sat down, as elegant as ever. The boat floated out toward the center of the lake and Slender picked up one of the rods. "See? Not so bad."

Jeff looked around the place. This lake seemed so...calm, so perfect. "Where'd this place come from?" He asked. Slender arched a brow.

"Well I'm assuming it formed via natural means." He replied. Oh. Jeff was half expecting Slender to say he created the lake or something. It wouldn't surprise him by now. "Here you go. I put the lure on for you." Slender held out the fishing rod. On the hook was a colourful plastic fish. Jeff took it and squinted at the lure.

"Does that thing actually attract fish?"

"Hm? Yes. They assume it's food because of the bright colours."

"Man, fish are dumb huh?"

Slender laughed a bit. ‘’I suppose they’re smart in other means.’’ he murmured. ‘’Now, you’ve never been fishing before, correct?’’

‘’Uh- yeah.’’

‘’Then I get to teach you how to cast your line.’’ Slender sounded quite happy with himself. ‘’You draw your rod back like this,’’ he threw the rod back over his shoulder. ‘’Then just throw it out!’’ he threw his arms forward, the line throwing itself off across the lake. He turned to Jeff and seemed to smile. ‘’Now you try.’’

Jeff turned to the water and inhaled deeply, like he was mentally preparing himself for something big. He threw back the rod, then lunged his arms forward. The line tossed itself across the lake, though it went nowhere near as far as Slender’s.

‘’Good job!’’ Slender reached over and patted Jeff’s head. He tensed up, and by the time he’d relaxed and realised it was only more of Slender’s unsolicited affection, the hand had pulled away. He glanced at Slender.

‘’...it was a shitty cast.’’ he murmured, looking back at the lake. Surprisingly, Slender didn’t scold him for the language. Instead he shook his head.

‘’It was a fine cast,’’ he said. ‘’Now, to reel it back you just wind back the reel. See?’’ he demonstrated with his own rod, winding back the fishing line. Jeff nodded and did the same until the line had come back to him. He looked to Slender for approval. When he nodded, Jeff smiled a bit before casting out again. ‘’Are you having fun?’’ Slender asked, sounding a little smug. Jeff’s smile abruptly dropped.

‘’Wha-? N-No, course not.’’ the teen avoided his eyes, or lack thereof. Slender chuckled gently.

‘’My apologies, I shouldn’t have assumed such a thing.’’ he said, turning away from him. Jeff glanced at him for a second before looking away, embarrassed. It was silent for a while before Jeff glanced at him again.

"Hey uh- Slender...can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

He frowned at the water, unsure of how to phrase his question. "Why...do you even care about me?" It was a question he'd been wanting to ask for a while. Slender turned to him. "I'm rude and get on your nerves- I'm not a good kid like the others…"

"Jeff-"

"Like- like Ben right? Ben is perfect, he's polite, he's smart, everyone likes him! Then there's Sally- she's a cute little girl and she calls you dad- they all call you dad and I just-" he sighed, frustrated. "I dunno...I'm just- a problem. The kid that causes trouble. You don’t wanna keep me around."

Slender shifted and turned to him. He placed his hand on Jeff's shoulder, squeezing it. "Jeffery…" he said gently. "You're not a bad child. You are not a problem. You cause trouble, yes, but you're a teenager. I'd be worried if you weren't causing trouble." His voice was soft, loving. "You're full of potential. You're still young, and I know you only need someone to nurture it. You're a young boy, you should be having fun with friends and causing mischief. Not...sleeping under bridges and wandering neighborhoods at night." His voice dropped at that last part, his gaze resting on him for a long, long moment. The hand withdrew and Slender looked away. "I just want to see you in a home where you feel safe...that's all."

Jeff stared at him. It didn't make sense to him how Slender, this...thing, this creature, this kind kind person...cared for him. He hadn't done anything to deserve the kindness. He was a murderer, a kid his parents didn't want and couldn't love. A freak. But Slender...still wanted to keep him safe? See him...having fun, being a kid?

"Why is it your business?"

"Hm?"

"Why's my safety and happiness important to you?" Jeff looked up at him. "Why am I so special?"

Slender stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. He pat Jeff's head. "You're an extraordinary boy. You're going to do great things, I can sense it from you."

"Why? Is that another of your magic powers?" Jeff asked. Slender looked like he might have smiled, if he had a face.

"Perhaps," he replied. "Or maybe I can see the future. Who's to say?"

Jeff brightened up considerably over the course of the next hour. He was still tired, yes, but Slender's voice was calming to listen to, and the air on the lake was warm and carried the scent of the woods with it. He was fun to talk to as well- Slender was good with witty replies and quick on the mark. He always seemed to know how to reply to Jeff, no matter what he said or talked about.

‘’Yeah but like- it’s so much more than that! The story was going on in real time, as you yourself got older The Undertaker was too, like-!’’ Jeff’s excited rambling was cut off by his line getting tugged. His head snapped to his bobber out on the lake. It was silent for a second, then it got yanked down below the water. He gasped. ‘’Is that a bite?!’’

‘’Looks like it!’’

‘’Shit-! What do I-’’ he glanced at his rod and at the reel. He started winding it, tugging his catch back with some effort.

‘’There you go, almost got it!’’ Slender called encouragingly. Jeff grunted and yanked his rod back, pulling the fish out of the water. He stared at the end of his line, where the fish hung, thrashing wildly. Slender clapped from where he sat across from him. ‘’Great job, Jeffery!’’ he chirped. ‘’It’s not often people get it first try.’’

‘’It’s not?’’ Jeff looked at him, surprised. Slender reached over and grabbed the fish, which had gone still, and pulled it off the hook. He nodded as he opened the cooler he’d brought with him and put the fish in before closing it. ‘’So like- I’m...good at fishing…?’’

Slender nodded again and sat back again. ‘’Seems so.’’ he said. ‘’That was a big one too. Good job.’’

Jeff smiled. ‘’Oh cool!’’ he bounced his legs happily. Slender reached over and took his rod from him, putting more bait on the hook for him. ‘’Wait- what’re we even gonna do with the fish?’’

‘’Eat it.’’ Slender replied. ‘’I brought some supplies to make a fire, and I’m going to smoke the fish. Does that sound nice?’’ he asked. Jeff nodded. ‘’I could teach you how, if you’d like. Then you could catch and eat fish all by yourself.’’

Jeff blinked. ‘’Really?’’ he asked, surprised. ‘’You’d do that?’’

Slender nodded. ‘’Means you can feed yourself. I can even teach you how to gut and fillet a fish, if you want that.’’

‘’You would?!’’ Jeff said a little louder than he meant to. He cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced away. ‘’I’d...love that, yeah. Sounds- cool. Or whatever.’’

Slender chuckled and pat the boy’s head again. ‘’Cool.’’ he said simply. Jeff looked up at him and grinned.

‘’Dude...never say that again.’’

The day seemed to fly by on that tiny boat. Slender seemed to be a much more skilled fisherman, as he caught way more fish than Jeff did, but the boy didn’t even notice. Every time he caught a fish he was met with praise and compliments that made him shake his hands with glee. By the time they got to lunch Jeff’s grouchiness had disappeared, replaced with excitement and talkativeness, and by evening he was calm and relaxed. Content to just quietly chat between the two of them.

‘’So how old are you again?’’ Jeff’s focus had turned to asking Slender questions about himself. It had started with just him, what he liked and why he liked them, but now he was turning to actually asking where the faceless creature had come from.

‘’Somewhere around four hundred.’’ Slender replied. ‘’I’m afraid I don’t have the exact year...age wasn’t exactly something we kept track of when I was young.’’

‘’We?’’

‘’My family. You’ve met Splendor, and I told you about Trender, yes?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ Jeff nodded, remembering Slender’s jolly sibling. How the two were related he had no idea. Splendor was full of so much energy and joy- not to mention he had a face. ‘’Damn...four hundred…’’ he frowned. ‘’You’ve seen some shit, huh?’’

Slender nodded. ‘’Plenty. Maybe a little too much.’’ he replied with a small laugh. Jeff smiled. ‘’Splendor is much younger though. He’s around two hundred and fifty.’’

‘’Gee, he’s practically a fetus.’’ Jeff replied sarcastically. Slender laughed and glanced up at the darkening sky.

‘’I think that’s enough for the day. What do you think?’’

‘’Huh?’’ Jeff glanced out at his line. ‘’Uhh...yeah. I think I’m good.’’ he reeled his line back in, and Slender did the same. They rowed the boat back to the shore and Slender climbed out of the boat. Jeff hopped out, shaking himself off. He grinned a bit as he watched Slender pull out the cooler and walk over to another part of the shore, taking a seat by some bushes. Jeff followed after him and set his fishing rod down. He dropped down beside him, folding his legs and watching Slender set things up. He pulled a large wooden cutting board from his bag and set it down, then took out one of the fish he’d caught from the cooler.

He grabbed a knife from the bag and looked at Jeff. ‘’You want to know how to prep the fish?’’ he asked. The boy nodded. ‘’Watch me then.’’ he turned back to the fish. Jeff watched as Slender chopped off the head, then the tail. Like an expert, he pulled out the spine and big bones, then cut the meat in half. Jeff watched him as he took off the skin, then picked out any smaller bones. He looked at the boy, seemingly pleased with himself. ‘’And that’s how it’s done.’’ he said. He held out the knife. ‘’Do you want to try it yourself?’’

Jeff looked down at the knife. ‘’You’re...giving me a knife?’’

Slender nodded. ‘’Yes.’’

‘’...on purpose?’’

‘’On purpose, yes.’’

Jeff grinned and took the knife. Slender took out another fish and slid the cutting board over to the boy. ‘’Now start with the head. Then you can pull out the spine with it.’’ he said. Jeff nodded and started sawing at the fish’s neck. He grunted, struggling to get through the bone for a few moments before the knife got through, beheading his catch. He pulled the head away, dragging the spine with it. Jeff looked up at Slender, smiling.

‘’Did I do it right?’’ he asked. Slender nodded. The boy grinned wider. ‘’What’s the next step?’’

Slender pulled a plastic bag out and put the unused fish parts into it. ‘’You’ll be taking out the guts.’’ he replied.

‘’Oh hell yeah!’’ Jeff looked down excitedly, twirling the knife in his hands. Slender laughed.

‘’Slice open the fish’s stomach and just pull them out. It’s messy work. Do you want gl-’’ he stopped when he realised Jeff had already done as he was told and was tugging out bloody guts with his bare hands. The boy looked up at him, confused, and Slender laughed again. ‘’Or you can use your bare hands. That works too.’’ he said, patting Jeff’s head.

Jeff laughed and shook his head, long black hair falling into his face. Slender pushed it back behind his shoulder and hummed. ‘’What’s next?’’ Jeff asked.

‘’Wash your hands. Then cut off the fins.’’ Slender said snarkily. Jeff laughed again.

Preparing the fish was more fun than Jeff thought it would be. He was already skilled with a knife, and cutting something up felt good. Not to mention Slender’s constant praises and compliments. Jeff ended up preparing three fish, while Slender did two. While Jeff put away the parts they wouldn’t eat and washed his hands, Slender set up the fire and set the fish down to smoke. He sat back and looked up at the evening sky. Jeff scooted over to him, then lay back on the ground. He sighed tiredly and Slender turned to look at him.

‘’So was it bad?’’

‘’Huh?’’ Jeff opened his eyes and looked up at Slender, confused.

‘’Fishing. You said you didn’t want to come.’’ the faceless monster tilted his head. ‘’Was it boring?’’

‘’Well- no-’’

‘’Did you enjoy catching fish?’’

‘’...I guess…’’

‘’So...you enjoyed yourself?’’

Jeff looked up at him then sighed. ‘’...yeah. I guess I did,’’ he looked away. ‘’Maybe I’d do it again…’’ he mumbled to himself. Slender chuckled and patted the boy’s head again.

‘’I won’t force you,’’ he replied softly. ‘’But I did have fun. Nobody else in the house really enjoys fishing, except maybe Cody, Tim and EJ, and they prefer to go with each other rather than me.’’

Jeff looked up at him, then smiled. ‘’Fine. I’ll be your fishing buddy.’’ he replied, pretending to sound reluctant. ‘’But only if you make that great breakfast again!’’

Slender laughed. ‘’I think I can do that.’’

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fanfic #slenderman #jeff the killer #jeffery woods #jtk #slenderdad #slender mansion #creepypasta jtk #writing #creepypasta hc #creepypasta hcs

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snowdog49 · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas (late) @notkorras. Hope you enjoy this short little snippet of Royai.

*****

There weren’t many times that you could catch Riza Hawkeye baking. No one in her office would ever suspect that to be a skill set of hers. Once a year, after the first snowfall, she got out the little baking sheet that she owned and set out to make sugar cookies. They weren’t that complicated, nor truly a family recipe. She’d gotten it from a magazine once, made it, and her colonel, lieutenant colonel at the time, liked them. So, she continued to make them after the first snowfall. And with the fresh snow, Colonel Mustang would show up at her apartment for a few. Riza smiled at herself. Making them reminded her, oddly enough, of her childhood and it was easy enough to relish in the simplicity of life.

This year she was doing something even more special. She was going to make cookies for the squad. It still wouldn’t be too much, but they deserved the little extra fun considering how much work they had been doing. She smiled to herself. They would never expect it from her either. She could just drop it by the coffee and not say a word. Of course, she was sure Colonel Mustang would eat them all before the others got there. He wasn’t the sharing type.

She pulled the first batch from the oven, Hayate at her feet. He wagged his tail, excited with the new smells. She tossed him a treat from his jar instead and told him to leave the kitchen so that he wasn’t stepped on. Riza wasn’t about decorating the cookies though. So as they came out from the oven, she put them on a plate and left them to cool. The air was rich with the smell of cooked batter and sugar, and the tea that she’d been sipping. It was maybe the only time her apartment would smell like a normal home and not one of shoeshine, gun oil, and freshly cleaned uniform.

She took part of a warm cookie and tasted it. The sweet savory taste melting against her tongue made her crave a glass of milk with it. She could imagine children outside in the snow, coming in to a warm cookie. She never had that, but it sounded wonderful. Riza smiled as she put the next batch in the oven. It made her want to get cozy, pull out a magazine, and eat a few of the cookies for herself. It wasn’t as if anyone knew she would. No one knew she was baking them.

Except Mustang.

This time of year brought many things that broke her out of character. The first snow was also the only time, the one day, in which she called Mustang, “Roy.” Maybe it was her relishing in the days of old when times were more innocent. It was the one day that she could step out of the uniform and just be a normal being, with cookies on the counter. It was cookie day. She looked up at the clock. She actually was expecting Mustang to come begging at the front door, probably smelling the cookies from across town. It was his favorite day as well. It was the only day he called her “Riza.”

She smiled, looking back at Hayate. The puppy still had much to learn. Maybe she’d make dog biscuits this year too. It couldn’t be that hard. She oriented the cookies on the table, setting them out to cool. She’d have to devise some way to get a batch into the office without anyone knowing it was her. She rubbed her chin. There were several ways of doing it, and one in which she just filled a small box would do just fine. Another way would be to divy up each officer with his own bag and drop it on his desk. She smiled. They were going to love a little treat whether or not they knew it was from her. If at all possible though, she was going to try to stay anonymous. The last thing she needed was Lieutenant Havoc boasting that he knew she had a soft side.

A knock at the door broke her from her plans and she grinned childishly. There the colonel was. She answered the door, watching the man with black hair and dark eyes leaning against the door frame. Usually he came over, peeking his head in cautiously, almost as if he was evaluating the scene for dangers before slinking in and stealing a cookie. This year he was full of confidence.

“So,” he nodded. “I saw a light layer of snow this morning.”

Riza leaned against the door, shifting her weight. “Is there something important about days of snow?”

“Don’t play with me, Riza,” he laughed. “Where are the cookies?”

She laughed loudly as she waved him in. “But you only can have a few.”

Roy picked one up from the table and frowned. “What? Why?” It was almost as if she had taken the cookie from him! His whole body sagged and he was short of a childish pout.

“I’m making some for the whole office,” she explained.

“Those bastards don’t deserve any,” he quickly argued with a wave of his hand.

“For all your spelling mistakes,” she glared, “neither do you.”

Roy squinted his eyes before slowly taking a bite of his cookie. “For your information,” he mumbled with his mouth full. “I brought you a gift too.” He took a large gulp of cookie and reached into his pocket. Riza leaned against the counter with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t usually bring her something in return. Usually he just showed up and they sat and chatted casually until the tray was empty. He pulled out a small bag. He held it out to her, still glowing with confidence.

She took the bag and inspected it. There was a brand of tea that was expensive but smooth and rich with flavor. She only bought it for her birthday, and even then, it was a treat. The floral notes, accompanied with the undertone of vanilla make her just want to smell it. There in her hand, he had given her a few pots worth. “Roy,” she gasped, opening the bag immediately. It smelled like peaches. “This is….”

“I know,” he grabbed another cookie. “I always feel bad coming here without a trade. You make cookies every year for me and I have nothing to thank you for it.”

Riza carefully set it on the counter. She turned on the stove, setting her kettle on top of the warming burner. She was going to make them a pot for while they sat and chatted. It was going to be a wonderful evening indeed.

Hayate whined from his spot by the door. The time said that she only had two minutes left of cooking. Hayate whined again. Roy had his third cookie in his mouth behind him. It was a risk she was going to have to make.

“Roy,” she said as she moved to the door. “When the timer goes off, please take the cookies from the oven.” She put Hayate’s leash on him. “I will be gone just for a few moments.”

“I got this,” he assured her.

“Don’t burn my apartment down,” she insisted.

“I don’t burn houses,” he scoffed a laugh. “Go take Hayate out. I’ll get the cookies.”

She opened the door and walked Hayate by her side as they made their way outside. The puppy pulled on his leash to the grass, eagerly sniffing around. Riza did not tolerate the pulling and snapped on the leash. With the correction, Hayate instantly jumped to her side as instructed, however his nose still drifted towards the grass. After a few more seconds, she rewarded him, walking him over to the grassy patch. Little paw prints broke the fresh snow.

She looked up to her apartment window, a soft smile creeping on her lips. The first snow of the season really was a special time. Her thoughts drifted to when she first made the cookies and how excited Roy was. She knew she was missing out on that same kind of playfulness. It was a moment in which the outside world didn’t exist and Roy could just relax with a simple childhood memory. She knew Roy lost his parents as a young child, but just because she didn’t have cookies as a child, didn’t mean that he didn’t. Despite Chris being older and rough around the edges, Roy’s aunt was doting upon him.

Her chest warmed as she thought about them at the table, remembering when they were younger. He’d eat a cookie, the firsts t one quickly, then slow it down as he went along. Roy would sit back in his chair, telling a joke, or chuckling about a recent rumor of the office. His face would soften and his posture would relax. He’d wave his cookie in the air as he talked animatedly to her. He was a different person on cookie day. He was an innocent young man before Ishval.

Hayate kicked his back feet and smiled up at her. “You ready,” she asked. “Let’s go then.” She turned and walked back to the apartment. Opening the door she could smell the rich sugar of the cookies. Her mouth instantly began to water and all she could think of was the sugar rush after today. To add to the excitement, she was ready to share some with the group too. But as she turned into the kitchen, she was shocked at the scene.

Roy sat at the table with an empty plate save for a few crumbs. The hot tray of cookies were half eaten. A guilty smile and the crumbs on his shirt was all that Riza needed to lose her mind. Then Roy didn’t even drop the cookie that was in his mouth. He sat there, still chewing as he chuckled.

“They are good,” he mumbled with a full mouth.

“Roy Mustang! What the fuck?”

“What,” he mumbled, swallowing his mouthful of sugar.

“You ate all of them!” Out of the twelve that she had made, only four remained. “You have got to be kidding me! Roy!”

He smiled sheepishly and hunched his shoulders with the scold. “They were really good this year,” he chuckled anxiously. “And, honestly, I didn’t want to share.”

Her hand hit her face as she shook her head.

Roy got up and walked towards her. “You can just make some more,” he offered. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“You’re going to get fat,” she grumbled.

“Eating your cookies? I’d be happy to.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I will make them with you. It will be fun.”

She rubbed her forehead and looked at her counter where the cookie cutter and rolling pin sat. She’d have to go out and get more supplies, but it would be easy to make another batch. It was just time consuming.

“I would love to make cookies with you.” He started to laugh. “And I promise to only have one...or two…”

“You’re going to have none,” she huffed. With a heavy sigh, Riza walked over and picked up a cookie off the tray. It was still soft, warm in her fingers. She pulled it apart, putting the smaller piece in her mouth. It was divine. She was going to have to make more, there was no doubt about it. “I need more supplies,” she said with her mouth full, putting her hand over her mouth to be polite.

“I will go out and get them,” he quickly offered. “Just make me a list.”

She smiled, taking another small bite of the cookie. Maybe baking with him wouldn’t be that bad. Today was all about being childish once again, there wasn’t really a better way in her mind than to return to the days when they tried to make a simple soup without botching it. She snickered to herself. It was so bland! And her father was so upset that stirring a bland soup was all that the two of them had done all day. “Okay,” she sighed. She turned to grab a piece of paper. “But you also need to get a jar of milk.”

#fmasecretsanta2020 #gift fic #Royai #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #christmas cookies #antics #Roy loves cookies #Secret santa #FMA

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pixiegrl · 4 years ago

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Shaking and Waiting for Something More

A couple days ago I wrote Twice As Much Isn’t Twice As Good (tumblr, ao3) for a Mashton prompt and @staticsounds asked if I could write the Cake half of the prompt. Well, here it is! Enjoy!

On ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28842132

“Are you going to finally ask him out?” Ashton asks as he and Luke make their way across campus. Luke blushes, avoiding making eye contact with Ashton’s knowing smirk. Everyday Luke regrets telling Ashton that he has a crush on the cute barista at the coffee shop near campus. Just because they’re best friends and roommates doesn’t mean that Ashton is any less annoying once he’s got personal information in his hands.

Luke’s not even sure how they’re friends sometimes. He’s a music major, going through his graduate project to hone his skills, so he can be good enough to work professionally playing music. Ashton’s a law student, forever whining about classes and internships and being a TA for the lower level students. Luke thinks it’s Ashton’s own fault for picking this career. One shared psychology class their first year was enough to cement their friendship and roommate-hood. Ashton even helps out with Luke’s dog, Petunia, when he needs it. Luke will gladly take Ashton as his roommate, someone to cook dinner with and watch movies on the weekend with and put up with Luke’s odd hours and music playing in exchange for Luke having to clean the dishes and scrub the bathroom tiles.

“I’ll ask out Calum when you decide to ask out Michael,” Luke snips back. Ashton blushes a little, flipping Luke off. Luke’s not above playing dirty and bringing Ashton’s crush into this scenario too. Luke knows the reason Ashton frequents the coffee shop is only half because of his poorly hidden caffeine addiction and half because of the blonde haired punk boy that works there. One day, Luke thinks the two of them might get up the courage to ask either boy out. Although, it’s usually frowned upon to ask out the people who make your coffee. Just because they smile at you and when your hands brush while they hand you the mug and you get warm and tingly instead does not mean you should invade their boundaries and ask them out.

Ashton keeps grumbling the rest of the way to the coffee shop, put out that Luke’s called him out on his obvious crush. Luke rolls his eyes, distracting Ashton by asking him about the project he’s helping his professor plan for their students. Ashton launches into some explanation about law and court cases, while Luke’s brain bleeds a little from how complicated it all sounds. Luke’s a music major for a reason.

They push the door open of the cafe, the bell over it announcing their arrival. Calum glances over at the two of them from where he’s standing behind the coffee machine, turning to say something to Michael that they’re too far away to overhear. Michael straightens up from where he’s standing behind the pastry display. Luke and Ashton approach the counter. There’s a glint in Michael’s eyes that warns Luke nothing good is about to happen.

“Hi. Welcome to Over The Moon Coffee. What can I get you, Luke?” Michael says. He makes direct eye contact with Luke, completely ignoring Ashton in front of Luke. Ashton scoffs, offended and Luke can’t help but laugh at it. Calum snorts from behind the machine, turning a little red when Luke glances over and they make eye contact. Luke gives Michael his usual coffee order, watching Michael scribble it out on the side of the cup and hand it off to Calum.

“What about me?” Ashton asks, mildly offended at being ignored. Michael continues to not look at him, instead typing Luke’s order into the register.

“You’ve come in three times today already. Not only do I know your order by heart, I’m considering cutting you off soon,” Michael says. Luke raises his eyebrows turning to Ashton. He knows Ashton has a caffeine problem, but that’s a little ridiculous even for him.

“You can’t do that,” Ashton insists.

“I can absolutely do that. I’m the barista, I control the coffee supply,” Michael says back. Luke muffles his laughter behind his hand. Calum lets out a bark of laughter, covering his mouth when Luke and Ashton glance over at him.

“You can’t actually cut me off there has to be some kind of rule.”

“You’re getting tea this time. I don’t think cold weather is an excuse to drink ten times more coffee,” Michael states. He rattles off the price to Luke, taking his card and swiping it. He hands Luke back the card and grabs another cup, writing out whatever tea order he means to give Ashton.

“This has nothing to do with the weather. I’m a law student. I have classes this semester and I have to TA a class. Do you know how many bad papers I have to grade?”

“Should have thought about that before you developed a caffeine addiction,” Michael answers, ringing Ashton up for the tea.

“I want coffee.”

“I’m giving you tea. Come back in a few hours and maybe I’ll give you coffee. Or better yet, maybe you can sleep instead.”

“I cannot. Finals are next week. I have to grade papers and study for my own classes.”

“I’m not fueling your caffeine dependence. It’s concerning and I won’t let you drink this much coffee,” Michael says. He’s narrowed his eyes at Ashton. Luke can already see this argument isn’t going to go anywhere, Ashton and Michael both too stubborn to be the first to give up.

“I’ll pay for it,” Luke says, pulling out his card again and handing it over. Michael’s right. Ashton drinks too much coffee and he needs to learn to drink something else. The look of betrayal on Ashton’s face makes Luke think he’s going to have to fend for himself tonight for dinner.

“Really Luke?”

“Oh please, he’s not wrong. You drink too much coffee,” Luke chides a little as he takes his card back. Luke glances over at Calum as he makes his way down the counter, watching Calum as he makes the latte. Calum glances up, making eye contact with him and Luke glances away, cheeks flushed and a little embarrassed to be caught staring. Ashton and Michael keep snipping at each other back and forth about how much coffee Ashton drinks and if Michael can actually cut him off. Luke glances over at Calum.

“He’s right. Ashton drinks too much coffee.”

“You do too. You come in here almost as much as he does.”

“Hey, sometimes I get tea or food instead. Besides, I’m not just here for the drinks,” Luke says, going red when he realizes he’s admitted too much and glancing away again. Calum blushes a little too, finishing making his drink and handing it to Luke. He goes about making Ashton’s tea next. Luke glances over, watching as Michael hands Ashton something in a pastry bag. Ashton takes his tea from Calum, heading for the door. Luke waves as the two of them leave the shop. He goes to take a sip of his drink, stopping when he notices some numbers on the side of the cup. He pulls the cup back, blushing red when he notices it’s a phone number and a little note that says Text Calum, he likes you too. Luke shoots a glance over at Calum, who’s busy at the espresso machine, not paying attention. He glances over at Michael, who shoots him a little thumbs up. Luke flushes a little, ducking his head down.

“I can’t believe you betrayed me like that to Michael.”

“Shut up. He gave me Calum’s number,” Luke blurts out, panic setting in. Ashton’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Did he?”

Luke nods, turning the cup to show Ashton, “What do I do?”

“You text him.”

“I can’t just text the barista.”

“Clearly, Michael knows that Calum likes you and you like him. You should text him,” Ashton says. Luke looks at the number, frowning a little. Maybe Ashton’s right, maybe Luke should text Calum. The worst that happens is that Calum turns him down and Luke will have to find another coffee shop to go to.

Luke does text Calum. After the initial awkward back and forth, they eventually fall into easy conversation and flirting. Luke finally works up the nerve to ask Calum out and the two of them set a dinner date at a local restaurant for that Friday night. Which should in theory, be fine, except that Luke forgot that Friday nights are for Ashton’s study groups. Which means that instead of hiding out in his room with Petunia so she isn't’ overwhelmed by people or in the way, Luke suddenly has to take her with him so that she isn’t alone. Luke doesn’t have time to text Calum, instead opting for walking to the coffee shop and taking his chances there with Calum before anything else. Luke gets there right before closing, pushing the door open and letting the bell announce his arrival.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what the shop policy is on dogs but I can’t leave her outside with the snow and I had to bring her with me. I know we have our date tonight, but Ashton needed the apartment for law student things and I can’t leave her there with so many people,” Luke says, rushing it all out as he stands just in the doorway of the coffee shop. He bends down, scooping up Petunia and holding her in his arms. Luke’s not sure how forward it is to bring his dog to the store and to bring her on a date, but he’s desperate. Calum’s the only one in the shop so close to closing time, which comforts Luke that the only person to witness his embarrassment is Calum.

Calum perks up from behind the register. He stops mid-cleaning process and makes his way around the counter.

“What’s her name?” Calum asks, stopping in front of Luke. Luke holds her out a little, letting Petunia lean forward to sniff Calum’s hand, wriggling around till Calum pets her head.

“Petunia. I call her Tuney sometimes. Or Piggy.”

“Why Piggy?”

“Everyone says she’s fat.”

“Aw, she’s not fat, she’s just a big lady. Aren’t you sweetie?” Calum coos, scratching Petunia behind the ears. She melts in Luke’s arms at the contact, sighing contentedly. It does help Calum gain points in his favor that he’s so good with Petunia and she so clearly likes him.

“I know we were going to go somewhere for our date. I’m sorry if I messed it all up. We can reschedule.”

“And force you and this little lady to have to spend the evening in the company of law students? Not likely. I have some pasta and sauce at my place. I think we could manage to make a homemade dinner for our first date. Besides, Petunia might like to meet Duke.”

“Duke?”

“My dog. He’s a little old man, but he enjoys company. He’ll like Petunia I’m sure,” Calum says. Luke blushes.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I’m not going to turn down a date with a handsome musician and his adorable dog. Have a seat. I’m going to finish cleaning up and we can take some of the leftover pastries with us for dessert. Do you want anything to drink?” Calum asks, giving Petunia a final scratch behind her ears. He reaches around Luke, locking the door and heading back to the counter.

“Are you going to get in trouble?”

“No. We’re the only two people here and unless she sheds or drools on the table, no one will notice or care.”

Luke takes a seat at the nearby table, gently lowering Petunia to the floor for her to plop down on and rest. He turns to Calum.

“Do you have green tea still in stock?”

“Hot?”

“Yeah.”

“Can do,” Calum says. He puts a tea bag into a to-go cup with hot water, filling it up with hot water and snapping a lid on. He brings it around to Luke, setting it on the table. Luke smiles up at Calum. Calum leans down at the last moment, pressing a kiss to Luke’s cheek. He pulls back, blushing slightly as he heads back to the counter to finish cleaning. Luke blushes too, blowing on his tea and trying to hide it.

Calum finishes cleaning, wiping everything down and setting up for the next day. He flips all the lights off.

“We have to leave out the back. Come on,” Calum says. Luke stands up, bending down to pick up Petunia and straightening up, grabbing his cup and carrying Petunia through the store and through the back.

“This cannot be hygienic.”

“Just don’t set her down. No one has to know,” Calum says. Luke rolls his eyes, but obeys until they’re out the door and in the alley behind the coffee shop. Calum locks the door behind them, turning around and holding his hand out of Luke. Luke juggles Petunia’s leash and the cup into his other hand, grabbing onto Calum’s hand and interlacing their fingers. Luke feels a little warm inside and it’s not just because of the tea.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Readjusting our date to include Petunia. I love her alot and I want you to like her too if we’re going to date.”

“Well, it’s important that our dogs get along if we’re going to date. Besides, this is a nicer date anyway. Feels more intimate.”

“I have to warn you, I’m a shit cook.”

“That’s okay. I’m decent with pasta and sauce. Maybe I can teach you?” Calum says, glancing over at Luke. Luke grins, feels his dimples pop in his cheeks. Calum grins back, eyes crinkling at the corner.

“I would like that alot. Learning to cook sets a good foundation for a relationship,” Luke says, remembering something his mother told him years ago. Calum laughs a little, leaning over to press a kiss to Luke’s cheek. Luke blushes. Whatever comes next, he knows it’ll all be good if he has Calum there with him.

#5 seconds of summer #cake #luke hemmings #calum hood #coffee shop au #just dorks in love and luke doesnt know what to do #my writing

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elexica · 4 years ago

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Second Chance Christmas: {{ December 24 }}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69340716 Christmas Eve is a lot more pleasurable this year.

Rating increased to Explicit for smut this chapter. If you would like to skip it, end the chapter at the grilled cheese.

Entire chapter under the cut.

When Joey rolled over to look at his cellphone, he was startled to see it was almost 10:30 am. How did he sleep in, until mid-morning, on Christmas Eve? It was impossible that the kids hadn’t awoken with the dawn, and absolutely impossible that they didn’t need some form of attention by now.

Maybe they’ve been kidnapped, Joey wondered to himself. That would be just his luck—the second Kaiba’s back, loved ones get kidnapped.

He looked out the French doors that lead to the master bedroom’s balcony. It wasn’t a bad view at all, and the snow was wafting down. It was soft, fluffy, powdery stuff, already accumulating on the handrail of the deck. Joey considered fighting the temptation to wander out, but decided to just take a peek outside.

He was instantly rewarded with the sight of Alexis braining Atticus with a snowball.

They were dressed warmly, if a bit mismatching. From the bright red glove on one of Atticus’ hands, and the black mitten on the other, someone wasn’t able to find the right counterpart in time.

That someone was looming a bit off to the side, like he always did. Kaiba was crouching in the snow too, busy at work making something. Joey couldn’t tell at this distance, and it would be pretty harsh of him to join in the snowball fight. Joey knew from experience that Kaiba didn’t half-ass snowball fights and had killer aim.

Joey had only managed to keep up because he thought shoving snow down the back of Kaiba’s shirt was the funniest thing in the world. The full body shiver and searing rage it inspired were unparalleled.

Instead, today it looked more like he was on hand to intervene if Alexis got too invested and owned her older brother too hard. And like he was doing something of his own, playing with the snow.

Was Seto Kaia building a snow man? Joey squinted, but the white snow was too bright and the packed snow was too indistinguishable from the freshly fallen drifts for him to actually be able to tell.

Joey felt some snowflakes collecting in his own fluffy hair, and with a shake of his head decided he could do a better job spectating from downstairs.

A latte was sitting on the kitchen counter. The foam had somewhat disintegrated, melting back into the coffee and milk mixture. At first, Joey assumed Kaiba had just left it behind for himself when he had been probably unceremoniously dragged into the falling snow by their little miscreants.

But upon close inspection, the foam had a sort of heart pattern on the top, made from pouring the steamed milk just so. Latte art had been an interest of Kaiba’s for about a day several years back—he had been convinced that he could replicate the delicate pouring in a robotic attachment added to the espresso machine, which could be repurposed to replace certain precision work in the Duel Disk manufacturing line. In the process, he had gotten very good at making them by hand as well.

Could the mug actually be for Joey? It didn’t look like Kaiba had sipped from it.

Kaiba was probably just showing off to the kids, Joey thought to himself. Even so, it melted his heart in his chest just a little bit. Even if it wasn’t for him, Joey was going to taste it. It was on Joey’s counter now, right?

The milk foam was soft against his lips, sweet little bubbles popping on his tongue as he sipped, and the coffee was still warm. He could feel the heat of it course down his throat.

He took another long drink of it, and it really was that good. If Kaiba had a love language, Joey pondered midway through another gulp, it probably would be fancy coffee.

Joey took the mug out with him, the warmth of the mug soothing in his hands as he wandered to the backyard. The chill in the air hit him in the face, instantly, and he wished he was wearing more than night clothes, his bathrobe, and slippers.

The family hadn’t really moved since he’d seen them from the master bedroom balcony.

Watching Seto play was always a source of fascination. Sure, it had been infuriating back in the day. The seriousness and anger he took to Duel Monsters, even when it wasn’t him dueling, was unpleasant at the time. But over the years, it had become endearing and intriguing. Sometimes, early on, Joey would even sit near Kaiba, during Yugi’s duels especially, just to hear the commentary. Kaiba was thoughtful and smart as hell, and his take on the game was as insightful as it was overly intense.

When Kaiba played other games, it was even more fun. Before they had met, Joey had never fathomed that someone could be completely engrossed in Operation!, or bring complete vitriol to Connect Four. Discovering that Guess Who could be played through carefully crafted insults to each figure’s appearance was delightful.

It had been one of the things Joey had kind of been looking forward to seeing in Kaiba when they had kids.

But… things don’t always pan out the way you want them to.

Joey took another sip from the coffee—Kaiba had put some sugar in it too, to Joey’s surprise. It had to be for him. Just that thought lit a spark in his chest that warmed him in a way that his bathrobe and flannel pajamas couldn’t.

Joey refocused on Kaiba, trying to discern exactly what the other man was doing in the snow. He was almost on his knees in the snow, and using his black-gloved hands to shape something. The packed snow was rather elegantly shaped, and even if it had been years since he had seen one in person, those white scales were incredibly iconic.

“Ay, Kaiba, is that?!”

With a finishing touch of black pebble eyes on the modestly-sized snow-dragon, Kaiba turned to face him dead-on.

Kaiba’s smirk was almost as haughty as it had been when he was a teen. He stood proudly in his winter coat, hands on his hips before the three-foot snow-dragon and pointed back at Joey with a flourish. “Attack with white lightning!”

Like magic, the kids turned on Joey. Snowballs were launched in his general direction and the kids made what Joey assumed were supposed to be dragon noises.

Joey was fortunate—the deck was pretty far from where they were playing, and the snowballs exploded harmlessly on the bannister or the porch in front of him. Alexis’s little screech was especially precious, even if her throw wasn’t.

Joey laughed so naturally that he didn’t realize he was doing it. When he composed himself again, he dramatically raised one hand, and pointed back. “I play my trap card,” Joey shouted into the fray, revolving enough to point at the kitchen behind him. “I’m making pancakes!”

Indeed, the promise of pancakes was more powerful than the lure of pretending to be dragons, and the kids cheered as they headed in.

Kaiba trailed the kids, looking oddly contemplative. Joey was about to leave and make good on his promise, but he was struck by the way Seto had his lips pressed together. He really looked like he was trying not to say something.

Joey gave him an expectant look, the space to say whatever it was that he was thinking.

“I never knew it could be this way.”

Joey tilted his head, blond hair flopping to the side. “What do you mean?”

Kaiba walked closer, within a few inches of Joey. With his thumb, Kaiba brushed a few snowflakes from the shorter man’s cheek. “I… didn’t realize that life could be this free.” And without any other comment or discussion, Kaiba composed himself and brushed past Joey. Leaving Joey with his now-chilly latte and distant thoughts.

…

Time slipped by quickly, the sands of the holiday magic hourglass rushing down as the finale approached.

The family had a holographic call with Mokuba and Yui, who expressed again how grateful they were to have the kids at their wedding. If Mokuba was surprised to see Joey and Kaiba alongside each other, not fighting, he didn’t show it.

After three years away from the high technology, Joey kind of saw the appeal of the holograms with fresh eyes. It was pretty neat to see Mokuba again, in three dimensions, glowing just a little in his living room. While Mokuba was patiently listening to Atticus explain how they were playing dragons this morning, Joey was just taking it in.

Then they sat down for another round of Christmas movies—this time all the classics. First was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, which Kaiba insisted had an overly mature message, that being unique is respected only when someone else can profit off of it. Then was Frosty the Snowman, which Kaiba objected to on the grounds that it sent mixed messages about mortality. “It is like watching ‘All Dogs Go to Heaven’ if you actually had to watch the dog—”

“Kaiba, it’s fine, he’s a snowman.” Joey interrupted.

“He’s clearly sentient. He’s aware of his surroundings. Do you think he cannot feel his body melt—”

“Next movie!” Joey announced, clicking away.

Kaiba completely left the room for Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, which was a pity, given how much of the runtime was dedicated to business decisions.

Kaiba only returned later, to poke his head around the corner and say that he had finished making dinner.

Joey wasn’t sure what to expect from Kaiba for a holiday dinner. Frankly, the times he had seen Kaiba cook were few and far between—he had helped out yesterday, but otherwise it was something of an informed ability. Kaiba said he could cook, but Joey supposed the proof would be in the literal pudding.

When they were dating, Kaiba was usually working and they would get take out or go out to dinner far more frequently than doing dinner at home. Joey couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the expectation of family meals had appeared—maybe after Atticus was born? Whenever it had happened, the family chef had appeared like magic.

Joey realized that maybe Kaiba had no idea what Joey’s cooking was like outside of this week either. That was a disturbing thought. How long could you spend with someone without ever learning what their cooking tasted like.

Joey was in for a pleasant surprise. It certainly wasn’t fancy, but tomato soup from a can—garnished with a basil leaf—and a decent stack of not-burnt grilled cheese sandwiches were waiting. With the snow falling gently outside, and the reflection of a few twinkling Christmas lights draped around the kitchen, it was a very pleasant scene.

It felt like too much to demand, but Joey bit into a perfectly buttery sandwich—crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside—and thought maybe he would like it if Kaiba cooked every night.

…

Finally, the kids were instructed that they needed to have an early bed time, as part of the last ditch efforts to convince Santa that they were good kids.

With certain designated cookies set out and carrots left for the reindeer, the kids were headed to bed.

“So… we didn’t wrap the presents last night,” Joey announced. Kaiba nodded, and they grimly turned toward the master bedroom to contemplate their fate.

The present pile was absolutely not representative of what Joey had purchased on his singular trip to the mall. At some point, quite deviously, Kaiba must have procured another thirty presents, through some assistant or something—Joey really could account for most of the time, and had them hidden in Joey’s secret present hiding place (unsurprisingly the master bedroom’s closet).

As a result, even with the two of them working to wrap presents, it had been almost three hours and they were still at it. Kaiba was frustratingly slow: he was both meticulous about straight edges and perfect tape amounts, and just slightly terrible at wrapping. It was brutally obvious he had never had to do it before, so even though the theory was easy for him, his long fingers struggled slightly with execution. It made the process even slower because Joey kept getting distracted, watching Kaiba’s long fingers fiddle with the paper and the tape.

“We can take a five minute break, we’ve been pretty busy this week,” Joey announced, stepping away from the supplies covered desk and flopping back on the bed.

Seto walked over and sat on the edge of pensively before curling into the fluffy duvet. “It’s true. Whatever doesn’t get wrapped can be saved for birthday presents.”

Joey graced him with a skeptical look.

“What?! You said you wanted it to be lower key,” Kaiba snapped back, offended. Kaiba looked down at his hands, tape resting on his pinky as he tried to get the fold just so on a small packet that was obviously a Duel Monsters cards booster pack.

The bags that were omnipresent under Kaiba’s eyes were etched just a little deeper than before. “A five minute break… sounds wise.”

Joey flopped backward onto the bed, avoiding the wrapping paper. Kaiba relaxed backwards as well.

Five minutes passed, and then another five. The bed was really soft and cozy. Joey knew it was much more comfortable than the guest room bed, and Kaiba was burrowing in somewhat.

The other man really did look peaceful, brown hair falling into his glasses, eyes finally closed and relaxed.

Two hours later, a quick glance at the bedside clock warned Joey that it was almost eleven at night. The lights had been extinguished, but the curtains hadn’t been drawn, leaving the room with a hazy glow from the bright snowscape and moon beyond the French doors.

Joey had dozed off on the bed and like magnets, Seto had ended up so close to him. Joey really hadn’t expected to wake up to the other man clinging to him for dear life, but it felt so nice. A pleasant weight, holding him, making him feel treasured. God only knew where his glasses had ended up.

Seto’s breath ghosted across Joey’s collarbone. “I missed you.” It was soft, sleep addled, and entirely sincere. His breaths were deep and warm, as if he was taking in everything about the situation that he could, inhaling the sleepy cozy scent of his partner, the soft detergent smell the dryer had left on Joey’s pajamas, the pine scented holiday candle that had been inadvertently left to burn for the last two hours.

Cuddling again felt so magical, after so long. Joey’s hand caught in Seto’s hair, soft brown strands running across his rougher fingers. His nails scraped lightly across Seto’s scalp, and Seto practically purred. It was enough to make the heat rise in Joey’s cheeks.

“I don’t want to let go of you,” Seto admitted to Joey. Seto looked up from where he was snuggled into Joey’s chest, eyes softer than Joey remembered them.

“Then don’t,” Joey answered, pulling Seto up so that their faces were perfectly aligned.

Staring into Kaiba’s eyes was always like this. It hit so deep, struck Joey right on the inside of his sternum. Something in the blue depths broke his heart every single time.

And Joey pulled him into a kiss. Seto’s mouth tasted the way that it always had. With his large hands grabbing at Joey’s back, clutching at the fabric, it felt the same way that it did before. When Seto deepened the kiss, when his tongue plunged into his mouth, nothing had changed.

But Seto pulled away, marking that Joey hadn’t truly time traveled. “I… are you sure you want to do this? I’m leaving tomorrow, Jounouchi.” Seto was so serious. The flush in his cheeks was just painted onto his ex-husband, the rest of his face was schooled into a business-like countenance. It almost made Joey forget the familiar hand on his hip, thumb stroking over his side.

Joey smiled, but he could feel the pinpricks behind his own eyes. “Then you better not ruin tonight, huh?”

Kaiba smirked, falling back into his role. “As you should well know,” Kaiba dived into Joey’s neck, sucking and biting something fierce, “I always rise to a challenge.”

Kaiba’s hand drifted up, grasping for Joey’s shirt and tearing it off. “If I remember correctly,” Kaiba continued, crawling down his body and quickly arriving at his cock, “and I always do,” Kaiba’s eyes flashed up to meet Joey’s, devious and dirty be fore pulling down Joey’s pajama pants, exposing his dick to the tense air of their bedroom, “I have some reliable methods for ensuring this is worth your time.”

“You talk too—” Joey attempted to complain, but Kaiba’s mouth on his hardening penis cut him off. A shock of lust zapped through is body, reaching the ache in his chest.

As Seto sucked gently—cheeks hollow and eyes closed in focus, Joey felt the lust course through him. But also a sense of comfort, of safety, and of loss. Each jolt of pleasure also triggered something cruel and bittersweet.

Joey tried to hold off, knowing that the sooner he came, the sooner it would end. The fantasy of having his husband back, adoring him in the most intimate way, would be over, even as the pangs of pleasure rippled through him.

But it was hard. Kaiba was an obsessive man, and when pleasuring Joey was his focus, he was meticulous in mastering its intricacies. One of Kaiba’s hands was caressing his inner thigh, alternating worshipful touches and soft, stinging scratches that dragged needy whines from Joey’s lips.

Just when Joey was certain he wouldn’t be able to hold on for any longer, the pressure building inside, threatening to spill out, Kaiba disengaged. A bit of pre-cum mixed with spit bridged between his plush lips and Joey’s rock hard cock. The light glinted off of the dew on Kaiba’s mouth, and accentuated the way that his lips were trembling.

Kaiba slid up, rolling over far enough to reach the top drawer of the night stand. And, just as if no time had passed, a bottle of lube was waiting for him. Joey’s eyes lingered on the way Kaiba poured it along his hands, leaving them glistening in the reflection of the moonlight off of the freshly fallen snow.

Kaiba removed his own sweatpants, and Joey’s eyes could see how devastatingly hard Kaiba was. The full body shiver that ran through him just touching himself in order to lube his own cock. And when he looked back over at Joey, the determination in his eyes was so intense, it was almost scary.

Kaiba crawled over, hands framing Joey’s head, heat radiating off of his body in hot waves, cocks threatening to touch. “I want you so bad, Jounouchi,” he whispered, voice husky from sucking him off.

“Then take me, Kaiba. You never had a problem taking what you want before,” Joey issued the challenge with a hint more menace than he had realized was there.

And the restraint was lifted. Joey hadn’t really realized there ever was any restraint, but with Kaiba’s fingers plunged into his tight opening, searching and quickly finding the familiar magic spot, maybe his partner had been holding back.

With only so many desperate thrusts of his fingers, Kaiba withdrew them. Joey almost moaned at the loss, wanting to tell his partner there was no rush. That they had enough time for everything, make love like they used to—languid and peaceful, wasteful of time.

Any complaints were silenced as he felt Kaiba’s thick cock enter him. Joey was lost in the sensations, swimming in the lust. The only things he could keep track of were the thrusts, the feeling of Seto’s hips and thighs rhythmically moving against his own. The white hot pulse of Kaiba coming inside of him, and that perfect moment, when he felt full and complete. Finally coming himself, untouched, semen spilling over his own stomach.

Even though it was sticky, and would soon be uncomfortable, he hated when Kaiba withdrew. His heart ached when he handed him a damp towel from the in suite, and when Kaiba gathered his pajamas, prepared to walk to the guest room.

Joey had to go back in his memory all the way to their earliest days to remember Kaiba getting up immediately after sex. Once their relationship was, well, a relationship and not a duel to see who could keep the connection more casual, Kaiba loved to be close afterwards. Even if he didn’t necessarily snuggle, he was usually present, sharing small smiles and holding Joey until he fell asleep.

“Don’t.”

Kaiba froze. And then he looked back, more surprised than he should have been.

The look on his face sent Joey to the early days of their courtship, when Kaiba would wear that same expression as he gathered up arm-belts as he bailed from Joey’s shit apartment back in Domino.

But that they had shared this exact bedroom for six years.

Joey hadn’t even changed up the pictures on the walls—shamefully enough, a wedding photo still sat on the dresser. Their trapped smiling faces judging the messy entanglement that their romance had become.

“Don’t leave me,” Joey choked out. Don’t leave me again went unspoken. He didn’t have that bad of a time saying how he felt, but Kaiba always tested the limits, made him want to withdraw into himself. It took some kind of bravery to be open with his feelings now, and it swelled in his chest. “I want you to stay the night, here.”

Kaiba nodded slowly, and dressed in his pajamas. He sat down on the bed carefully, cautious, like he hadn’t slept there a thousand times before. It almost seemed like he didn’t trust the mattress not to turn to dust beneath him.

And then he laid in bed like a corpse in a coffin, careful to bind his arms to his waist.

With a deep sigh, Joey said, “Ah come on. We just fucked, Kaiba. You can uh… you can touch me, if you wanna.”

Kaiba looked over. In the darkness, the glow of the moon-touched snow glinted in his eyes, sparking something mysterious. “We… did.” He looked a little bit like a cryptid, something not quite of this world, trapped in a reality he couldn’t totally understand.

“I don’t regret it,” Joey said, though his voice betrayed a bit of his uncertainty. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hn.” Kaiba scoffed.

“Yeah, I shoulda seen that one coming,” Joey said, leaning back against his pillow. It was somehow entirely foreign to have another man in his bed, and yet also familiar. Like Kaiba had never been there before, but also like he had never left.

The warmth was almost that of a phantom sensation—almost close enough to touch, just far enough away to feel like a figment of his imagination.

And then, somewhat suddenly, Joey felt the familiar hands of his ex-husband wrap around his arm. Just like that, Kaiba crept back into his space, foreheads almost touching, straight brown hair entangling in unruly blond strands. Joey could feel each exhale of Kaiba’s against his cheek. They were soft and rhythmic, pantomiming sleep.

Joey was surprised when he didn’t tense up at the contact. When they both melted into the shared cozy warmth under the quilt. When his own breathing turned more evenly paced.

He was falling asleep in that most literal sense, the experience of complete relaxation where one sinks through the mattress and into the dream world.

Somewhere in that sinking, the purgatory between sleeping and wakefulness, Joey could have sworn he heard Kaiba whisper “I still love you” in his gravelly tone.

But it could have been just a dream.

#puppyshipping #Violetshipping #my fic #seto kaiba #Kaiba Seto #Jounouchi Katsuya #Joey Wheeler #update schedule is hitting the point where the chapters are posted on the dates when they occur.#that's fun and sexy #right??

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green-eyed-whumpster · 4 years ago

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My OC Universe: Rowan 119

Chapter 119 Summary: Rowan is grateful for Peter’s company during the night and receives another letter from his father. While spending some time out in the snow he is reunited with an old friend. (Taggy New Year: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: PTSD whumpee, one hecking cliffhanger...

When Rowan woke up in the morning, he had rolled onto his stomach, and his arms were still holding Peter’s arm tightly against his chest. He could have stayed like that far longer than he did, but Peter hadn’t been able to move in the odd embrace and Rowan felt awful for pinning him down like that.

As he shifted to release and return the limb Peter rolled onto his back as well, before his eyes flicked open and he met Rowan’s gaze.

“Oh, good morning,” He smiled softly and shifted so he was propped up on the pillow. “Did you sleep any better?”

“Yes, thank you,” Rowan muttered. “But what about you? Did I disrupt your sleep?”

“Only a little,” Peter admitted, stretching out his arm. “But I didn’t mind, I was glad I could keep you content.” He knew Rowan would be upset by the information, but he also knew that the boy would know he was lying if he did.

“I’m so sorry!” He gasped. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt yo – “

“It’s fine,” Peter cooed, gently resting his palm on Rowan’s cheek. “If I was really bothered, I could have taken it back at any time, I chose to stay, it isn’t your fault. All right?” Rowan nodded reluctantly and Peter smiled at him. “Good, I’m happy you slept easier.”

“Well, still let me make you some tea,” Rowan insisted as he sat up and Peter reached out to stop him. “No, it’s good to return favours, you let me sleep with your arm, I’ll go and make your tea.” Rowan interrupted and Peter held up his hands in defeat, smiling slightly.

“Thank you, Rowan,” He grinned as the boy scrambled out of bed. “It’s still very kind of you.”

As Rowan readied the utensils Olivia came to stand beside him, ears perked and hackles twitching. It was strange seeing her like this, but Rowan doubted there was any danger, she had probably heard a lump of snow fall from the roof, or a squirrel crunching through the ice. He loved going out in the morning if the day was clear and seeing the animal tracks in the fine layer of powder in their clearing. Peter had begun showing him which tracks belonged to which animals, he doubted the skill would be useful to him, since he was afraid of killing the animals, but it was still fun to be able to point out the different creatures.

Olivia ran to the door and began pawing at it, Rowan let her outside and watched as she raced down the veranda and began grumbling at a figure who was cautiously approaching the cottage.

“Olivia, it’s all right,” Rowan said nervously, taking a few steps outside to meet the person.

“I have a letter,” He said, holding up the parchment to Rowan.

“Of course, I’m sorry about her.” He said, bouncing down the steps and landing in the snow as he took the letter. “She isn’t dangerous, I promise, she’s just protective.”

“It’s all right,” The man said. “I’ve dealt with worse,” Rowan wondered what could be worse than an angry guard dog but didn’t say anything and looked down at the parchment in his hand.

“Thank you, for this,” He said and the man nodded easily.

“Have a nice day.”

Peter was coming out of the room when Rowan shut the door behind him, he had heard the voices and was worried about whoever was here and talking to Rowan. The boy looked up and smiled at him when he realised and held out the letter.

“It was just a postman,” He explained and Peter nodded.

“Oh, good, and you handled it yourself?” He asked, walking over.

“Yeah, it wasn’t too hard,” Rowan shrugged, giving the letter to Peter.

“Good job!” Peter looked at the title on the paper and held it back to Rowan. “This is for you,”

“Oh,” Rowan opened it and swallowed heavily, his eyes moved slowly over the words as his lips moved to copy them out silently.

“Are you having any trouble?” Peter asked as his eyebrows furrowed deeply and Rowan shook his head.

“Only a little,” He admitted, glancing up and relaxing his features. “But I’m trying.”

“Good, you’re already doing so well,” Peter smiled encouragingly.

“Would you mind reading it as well? Just to make sure I understood everything,” Rowan asked, holding out the letter.

“Sure,” Peter took it and began scanning the words. “John’s really happy that you came, and he was able to tell you about Lucille,” He began, and Rowan nodded. “The children liked you a lot and Amelia would love to get to know you if you’re willing,” Rowan nodded again, and Peter smiled. “He liked me and trusted that I wouldn’t let you be hurt,” Rowan blushed as his head bobbed agreeably. “And he’d love to see you again whenever you’re comfortable.” Peter looked up from the note and Rowan finished nodding to meet his eye. “You understood all that?”

“Yeah,”

“Good job! I’m so proud.” Peter smiled and Rowan shrugged softly.

“Um, let-let me get that tea,” He murmured and moved over to the fireplace as Peter chuckled.

“Are you going outside?” Peter asked after they had eaten lunch and Rowan began putting on jackets.

“I want to go play in the snow,” Rowan shrugged shyly. “Olivia likes eating it.”

“It’s all right if you do!” Peter smiled, stacking away the plates they used in the cupboard. “Just make sure to come inside when you get cold,” He turned to face Rowan and surveyed the boy’s profile, significantly rounder with the many layers he put on. “I’m going to have a nap, call me if anything happens.”

“Did I stop you from sleeping?” Rowan asked timidly and Peter shook his head.

“It’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with curling up on a snowy day just because you feel like it,” He argued. “As long as you slept better while I was there,” Rowan was reluctant to admit that he had, that Peter’s presence had been really soothing while he slept.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Absolutely.” Peter confirmed. “It isn’t like there’s much for me to do while it’s so snowy outside,” Rowan smiled a little and pulled on the woollen cap Peter had given him when it first got colder.

“All right,” He said as Peter stepped closer and fixed the red waves under the cover.

“Don’t wander too far,” He warned, smiling as he tightened Rowan’s scarf. “Have fun.”

Olivia bounced through the calf-high snow as Rowan collected handfuls just to press them into snowballs. He sat in the snow and tucked his legs beneath him as he sunk into the ground. Hopefully Olivia wouldn’t get too cold, but he would be happy to let her inside if she got tired. He made a nice little stack of the snowballs, he didn’t really know what to do with them but he liked the action. The wool was nice because it wouldn’t get wet easily, so he could hang out for a long time before the chill soaked through to his skin.

Olivia suddenly began growling as Rowan threw himself onto his back to create a human-shaped hole and he turned his head to face her, even though he only saw crisp snow before him.

“Hush, Olivia,” He smiled, feeling the cool air sink over his face. “You won’t catch them,” Sometimes she would catch sight of a squirrel, or a rabbit that was wandering about outside and try to hunt them down, but she was too slow with the snow resisting her.

“No, she won’t,” Rowan’s heart lurched when he heard an unfamiliar voice and shot up. “But I caught you.”

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #Peter #Olivia #PTSD whumpee #therapy animal #snow #illiteracy #cliffhanger #ooooh

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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February 14, 2021: Brokeback Mountain (2005) (Part 1)

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Or Palentine’s, Galentine’s, Single Persons Appreciation Day, what have you!

Anyway, on this day where we (and the greeting card companies) celebrate love in all of its forms, I think it’s about time to diversify my movie choices a little bit. SO, for the next few days at least, we’re going to change it up, starting with a film that shook the 2005 public’s perceptions of love: Brokeback Mountain.

And who brings this movie to us? Same guy who gave us this:

And this:

And would give us this:

Ang Lee wasn’t originally meant to be the director of the film, as Gus van Sant was signed on to do it. You know, Good Will Hunting, Drugstore Cowboy, that one movie where Una Thurman plays the greatest hitchhiker in the world with giant thumbs, and eventually finds herself meeting multiple people, including Keanu Reeves, Pat Morita (Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid), and a group of radicalesbians who like in the Great Plains, coexisting with a group of critically endangered whooping cranes to whom they;’ve fed peyote, while also opposing the intentions of an evil feminine hygiene product company that seeks to take over the land for their factories? YOU KNOW, THAT MOVIE?

It’s called Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, and I wasn’t even slightly exaggerating with that summary, I SWEAR.

Anyway, he couldn’t do it, and Joel Schumacher also passed on it eventually, so they asked Ang Lee if he’d do it. After CTHD and Hulk, dude was on his way to retire, but after he cried at the end of the script, he accepted the job. AND HISTORY WAS MADE

Before I get into it, I should probably frank about something. I’m a cissexual, heterosexual man in a straight relationship with my girlfriend. She says hi, by the way. Here she is, a massive Jake Gyllenhaal fan, getting ready to watch this movie for the first time with me:

Isn’t she lovely? Anyway, just thought I’d be totally transparent about that. Incidentally, I remember when this film came out, as well as the fervor around it. This was JUST as the gay marriage debate was EXPLODING into the public scene, so this was obviously quite the talking point at the time.

Anyway, shall we find out who’s not going to quit whom? SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Cowboys Ennis del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) are waiting outside of a trailer, with Ennis having just arrived on a truck that reminded me of Optimus Prime, and I’m sorry. They’ve been hired by Joe Aguirre (Randy Quaid) to look after a group of sheep and guide them over Brokeback Mountain, a fictional mountain in Wyoming.

The two finally introduce each other, with Ennis seeming considerably closed off as compared to the open Jack Twist. They head to a bar, where the two get to know each other a but better Jack’s an occasional shepherd, but highly involved in rodeos throughout the year. Ennis, meanwhile, is a regular ranchhand at his family’s farm.

Time for sheep-herding, as the two guide their flock of sheep on horseback, with soft country guitars playing in the background over all of it. And I gotta say, the music combined with the visuals is giving me this real sleepy ambience vibe that I 100% would watch specifically to fall asleep to. Which is not an insult by any means, by the way; it’s just super relaxing.

The two make camp with the sheep in a mountain valley, and now I want to go camping. I realize that it’s February, and I live in a place VERY non-conducive to camping, but GODDAMN this movie makes me want to go camping. In the wilderness, surrounded by bird calls and crisp mountain air, LET’S GO.

We find out that Ennis is engaged to be wed to a woman named Alma, while Jack is yearning to break free of needing to take jobs like this. And all the while, they’re eating beans, scaring away coyotes, and fending of REALLY REALLY FAT American black bears, who you could really easily scare away without too much difficulty. You ever stared at a bear while both of you were in the woods? I HAVE. And we BOTH took off from each other in opposite directions. They’re not the bravest of animals, black bears. Grizzlies, however, you don’t wanna fuck with.

Anyway, after they face off against that bear and lose their newly bought supplies, they go hunting the next day and take down an elk. Which is a LOT of venison, I tell you what! Oh, and I’m not a hunter, just to be clear, but elk are fuggin’ HUGE. Seriously, XL deer they are.

Anyway, time goes on after that, and they continue to make their way through the mountains. And they get to know each other more, sharing their rodeo experiences and family backgrounds. Ennis also opens up pretty considerably, a fact not missed by Jack. The two become friends.

My girlfriend asks an interesting question: if I had never heard of this movie in any capacity...would I have known the extent of the relationship of Ennis and Jack? And honestly...I’m legitimately not sure at this point. I think I would’ve just assumed that they’d stay close friends, but no further than that. Call that being raised in a society with heterosexual bias towards relationships, or call that me not being a natural shipper. Both are probably accurate, to be honest.

Anyway, it’s getting cold out, and Jack’s sleeping in the tent one night while Ennis is freezing his balls off outside. With Jack’s insistence, he goes inside the tent to sleep next to Jack. And then...

Oh. Well, OK. Again, though, still not sure that at this point I’d...oh wait...OH...OH.

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OK. Think I’d be able to tell at this point what the movie’s about.

So, yeah, they have sex. It’s spontaneous, it’s wild, it’s heat of the moment passion...and it’s REAL awkward the next day, I tell you what. That next evening, Ennis and Jack both insist that they “ain’t queer,” and that this is “a one-shot thing they got goin’.”

Uh, boys? There’s some important evidence to the contrary that we should consider here. But, OK, it’s a different culture, this is super new to you both, I get it. I’m not one to talk on the coming out or discovery experience (again, straight cis dude over here), but I understand that there’s some inherent denial. But still, they continue their relationship as is, for the time being.

Which is not as private as they thought, as Joe Aguirre observes them chasing each other naked on the mountain from afar. Whoops. Well, it doesn’t matter as much, as they still have a job to do until summer ends. And that job continues. They encounter another herd of sheep that gets tangled up with theirs, snow falls on the mountain and they have to deal with that, etc.

Then one day, the two need to head out. Jack goes to fetch Ennis, who’s moping on a hillside about something. He does this play lasso thing, which seems cute...

...until it turns into a full on brawl right there on the hillside. OK. Well. Some heavy denial going on here, I think, especially on Ennis’ part. Which is somewhat understandable, given the culture, and the fact that Ennis is engaged. Oh, by the way, hello infidelity. GodDAMN IT. Escaped you for TWO MOVIES IN A ROW, and you’re back rearing your ugly head.

Anyway, the job is done soon, and Aguirre’s not exactly happy with them, as they’ve apparently lost some sheep and picked up some from the other herd’s flock accidentally. With a light rebuke from Aguirre, the two part ways with not much else said. Jack asks if Ennis will come back the next summer, and Ennis reminds him that he’s getting married that fall. But as Ennis leaves...

Huh. Interesting reaction, that. Well, in the next scene, Ennis gets married to Alma Beers (Michelle Williams), and they seem to have a very happy relationship. They have two daughters together in a pretty small amount of time. The next summer, Jack tries to get a job with Joe Aguirre once again, but is refused on account of his relationship with Ennis on the mountain...kind of.

See, here’s the thing. Joe rebukes Jack for having their relationship on the mountain, leaving the dogs to babysit the sheep, rather than do the job they were hired for. And, uh...he’s not wrong, honestly. Yeah, OK, there’s definitely some homophobia laced in there, obviously, but they were hired to watch the sheep, and we only really saw them do that once or twice. So, yeah, sorry to say, but Joe’s not entirely unjustified in not rehiring Jack.

At a Fourth of July festival, Ennis brings his wife and daughters to see the fireworks, when a couple of bikers antagonize the crowd as a whole. This results in Ennis telling them to stop, and a fight takes place, with Ennis IMMEDIATELY taking out the two bikers, with little effort. Anger issues there, Ennis?

Jack returns to the rodeo, with new other options for money. He’s clearly also coming to terms with his own sexuality, as seen when he not so subtly hits on a cowboy at the bar. However, he also meets a young woman, a barrel racer named Lureen Newsome (Anne Hathaway), whom he seems to get along with fairly quickly at a rodeo. They dance together at the bar that night, and, uh...park.

And that, of course, leads to their eventual marriage and parentage as well. Looks like Lureen’s parents arent the biggest fans of Jack, though. Sure that’s going to lead to a healthy relationship down the road.

Been about 4 years since Brokeback Mountain, and this is punctuated by Jack paying a visit to Ennis’ place, which Ennis is told about by Alma. He seems...very anious, waiting nervously for a day to see him. But he finally arrives, and the two embrace happily. And then...

Oh, and Alma sees? Sure, sure, oh, and they go to a motel IMMEDIATELY? Oh, OK, OK, infidelity? Yuuuuuuupyupyupyupyupyup, halfway point? Yeah, sure, see you in Part 2. Geez.

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watercoloredlie · 4 years ago

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A Christmas Wish

Title: A Christmas Wish (Day 1) Theme: Bonfire Fandom / Character(s): Supernatural/Arrow; Dean Winchester x Earth 1 Laurel Lance Warnings: Mostly fluff Word Count: 1,339 words Notes: So this is for @champbucks @12daysofchristmas challenge. I was originally going to just use wrestlers, but after the challenge was opened up to all fandoms, I just couldn’t resist making it the 12 days of Deanmas. If anyone deserves a bunch of cute holiday fics written about him, it’s Dean Winchester. Plus I threw in some Laurel because my girl deserves some holiday goodness too. Credit for the graphic goes to @snarkandsarcasmftw and credit for the bonfire idea goes to the show The Originals.

Christmas wasn’t an often celebrated holiday in Dean Winchester’s life. He barely remembered the Christmases he spent with his family prior to his mother’s death. After that, he and his brother Sam were lucky if their dad was even around for Christmas. The closest to a real Christmas he had since then was with Sam in the year leading up to Dean going to Hell. After that, he didn’t think he’d ever have a chance at celebrating the holiday again. But then he was saved from Hell by Castiel. Dean still didn’t celebrate Christmas again until he was with Lisa. He treasured the time he got to spend with her and their son Ben. Then they broke up. Christmas was pretty low key for Dean after that if he even celebrated it at all. Of course that all changed when Emma was born. It was the kick in the ass that Dean needed to see that he needed to do better by his children. So every year since then he tried his best to celebrate Christmas with them.

The bunker had ended up being a blessing in disguise. It gave the Winchesters a home. It gave Ben his own room when he came to visit and it gave Emma her own room. Childproofing it had been a pain, but it was worth it. Then Laurel arrived. She was a friend of Sam’s from college. Unlike him, she was able to go on to law school and become a lawyer. Laurel was also secretly known as The Black Canary, a superhero who nearly died protecting her hometown of Starling City. She faked her death with the help of the Winchesters so that the man responsible wouldn’t try to finish her off. Laurel spent her time in the bunker at first recovering from the surgery that had saved her life. She bonded with the Winchesters and especially with little Emma inadvertently becoming a mother type figure toward the little girl. Laurel would be the one to watch her while Sam and Dean saved the world. The last thing any of them expected was for Mary Winchester to be given back to her sons alive as a reward.

Now it was December and Dean was about to celebrate his first Christmas with his mother since he was three years old. Twinkling lights were strung up all around the bunker. The tree was placed in the perfect spot and decorated with care. Emma had even placed the angel at the top of the tree with a little help from her dad. It was a trenchcoat clad angel at her insistence since Uncle Cas was an angel so of course the angel on the tree has to look like him. Castiel was touched and also a bit amused by the gesture. This year was also the start of a new tradition. One that Dean himself wasn’t too sure of though.

Laurel rolled her blue eyes at him playfully. “It’s not about the wishes, Dean. It’s for good luck. I think it’s sweet.”

“I just don’t want Emma to get disappointed if her wish doesn’t come true.” He admitted with a sigh as he wiped the flour off the counter top.

She couldn’t help smiling softly at that as she moved to check on the cookies that were baking in the oven. “Well that’s why you try to make her understand that it doesn’t guarantee that the wishes will come true.”

“Daddy! Daddy!” The little auburn haired girl in question came rushing into the kitchen heading straight toward him.

“Whoa munchkin! What’s going on?” Dean dropped the rag onto the counter and easily swooped her up into his arms.

“Ben said the Grinch will steal all of our Christmas stuff if I wasn’t a good girl.” Emma pouted at her father.

“Well now that’s not true. We have an anti Grinch security system installed. He doesn’t really leave Whoville though so I don’t think you have to worry.” He pressed a kiss to his daughter’s head reassuringly.

Ben walked in shaking his head. “I only said that because she messed up my game. Grandma took it away. She said she’ll give it to you to give back to me later.”

“Emma just wanted to play with you, bud. That doesn’t mean you can just mess with his game either though, Em. So no more scaring your sister and no more messing with your brother’s things. Why don’t you two go get bundled up? Help your sister. We’ll be going outside in a few minutes.” Dean set the little girl back down onto her feet.

“But the cookies!” Emma protested looking up at her dad.

Laurel grinned softly at the little girl. “They just finished baking. I put them on the counter to cool. We can decorate them when we get back inside.”

“Okay mama.” Emma smiled and followed Ben out of the kitchen.

Dean and Laurel shared a look which only made her blush. After making sure the ovens were off, the two of them bundled up then headed outside where the bonfire was waiting. Ben and Emma were writing down their wishes with the latter being helped by Mary. The warmth from the bonfire in comparison to the chill in the air felt great. Sam and Eileen were near the fire keeping a close eye on it. When everyone was ready, they one by one each dropped a scrap of paper that they wrote their wishes on into the fire. Dean helping his kids do so, of course. It was only a few moments after all the wishes were in the flames that Ben looked toward the sky and his face lit up.

“It’s snowing!” Emma gasped in realization then squealed in delight.

Her brother laughed giving her a high five. “My wish came true.”

Laurel smiled nodding at them. “See? Good luck already.”

They enjoyed the snowfall for a bit. The bonfire keeping them from getting too cold. The kids were ushered back into the bunker after a while. Once they washed up, they went back to the kitchen where they helped Dean and Laurel decorate the cookies. Dean ended up having to wash icing off of Emma’s hands.

“What kind of cookies do you think Santa likes best?” Emma asked as she munched on a cookie afterward.

“I hear he likes pie better.” Dean grinned softly at her.

Laurel nudged him with an elbow earning a chuckle from him. “I think Santa likes all cookies and I’m sure he’ll love whatever cookies you leave out for him.”

“Okay. Can we make Olaf tomorrow?” She asked sleepily.

“If there’s enough snow, sure.”

“Yay!” Emma cheered then yawned finishing her milk.

Dean got her ready for bed. Laurel brushed the little girl’s auburn hair out while Dean read her a story. She was fast asleep soon after. They tucked her in then put the nightlight on. Laurel went to put the cookies away while Dean went to check on Ben. With the bonfire now safely out, Sam walked back inside with Miracle by his side. The dog shook himself off then walked away to get some water. By then, Dean and Laurel were done with what they were doing so they were just quietly talking. Sam smirked playfully and cleared his throat gesturing above them. They looked over at Sam then glanced up only to see some mistletoe hanging above their heads at a height that only the younger Winchester brother could have placed it there.

The blonde blushed at the realization, but didn’t hesitate to lean in kissing Dean softly on the lips. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, Laurel.” Dean returned the kiss softly.

Mary gave them a knowing smile from where she was seated as the pair kissed a bit more. “Looks like Emma might have her wish come true after all.”

“Wait, what did she wish for?” He pulled back for a moment making them both look over at his mother.

The older blonde couldn’t help laughing softly. “A baby brother.”

#12 days of christmas #dean winchester #supernatural #laurel lance #arrow #spn

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