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blackbat05 · 3 years

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Day by Day

Shangqi x Reader

A/N: My love for this man has hit an all time high so let me capitalize on it while I still can! If you read everything, I sincerely thank you for doing so!!! And holy cow 2 fics in 2 days have I gone back into my prime days?

Genre: PG-13

Notes: As the title mentioned, I’ll probably set it some time after endgame. You could see it as a prequel to my first post! Reader is a social worker and she’s just dealing with all the mess that the snap bought back. The reader’s name as Jen Lee. I also apologize in advance for the potentially long fic.

***

‘Excuse me, I’m looking for my child? Her name’s Wang Yiman and she’s seven.’ Another frazzled-looking parent fought her way to the front of the receptionist, approaching the helpless intern who looked like she was going to be on the verge of tears if another request came in.

‘I got this,’ a hand calmly reassured the young intern as she beckoned the relief parent. ‘Mrs Wang? My name is Jen Lee and I’m the social worker here.’ I offered my hand for the anxious mother. ‘Oh thank god! Is Yiman ok? She must have been so scared!’ I slowed to a stop outside the room at the end of the corridor, gently sitting her down.

‘Yiman has been a very brave girl Mrs Wang, but I will not lie to you. The sudden disappearance of their parents has traumatized a lot of kids. We’ve managed to explain to them what was going on but they will need a lot of support.’ I gave a glance over Mrs Wang’s shoulder, nodding to my colleague, Tammy who was holding the hand of a little girl in pigtails and a floral dress.

妈妈! mā ma (mommy!)

The young girl ran into her mother’s open arms, allowing the floodgates to open from both ends. I turn to Tammy as we shared a silent agreement to leave the area. ‘That’s the last one for the day,’ Tammy unceremoniously plops herself onto the chair, letting out a groan. ‘Thanks for your hard work Jen.’

‘Right back at you.’ I entered the last bit of paperwork before uploading Yiman’s case file onto the portal. Yiman’s reunion with her parents meant the Children and Youth Centre were halfway in getting every displaced child back to their parents. Looking at the dingy television that was hung on the walls at the waiting room, despite not being able to hear anything, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. S.W.O.R.D was apparently in a stand-off against Wanda Maximoff? Reported rumors that Sam Wilson didn’t want anything to do with the shield? It’s been a crazy few weeks but that was utter-

‘Bullshit! If anything it’s the government. They must have psyched him into giving up the shield.’ My chair swiveled to face Tammy who returned a nonchalant shrug. ‘What? You know I’m right. Doesn’t matter if half the world’s gone or our universe gets split into two - they’re the true evil here. I’m still struggling to find a place after I found a couple making out in my apartment! And you know what the global repatriation council told me? We’re only dealing with urgent cases right now. Well I say f-’

The incessant ringing of the bell interrupted our conversation, replacing Tammy’s tirade into a cheeky grin. ‘Look who’s here!’

Shangqi stands behind the counter, dressed in his usual red varsity jacket and jeans, holding bags of what I could only make out as takeout from the Chinese restaurant that was run by a friendly Singaporean couple. ‘Did I interrupt something?’ He scratches his head nervously. ‘Nope, in fact you just saved me from Tammy’s monologue, any further and she’ll explicitly tell me what she saw in her apartment when she got dusted back that day,’ I shivered in mock fear. ‘Still haunts me up till today.’ Tammy meets us by the door, bag in her hand.

‘I thought you were staying? We got fried dumplings and 泡饭 pào fàn (poached rice).’

‘Last minute duty - A parent called, gotta run! Enjoy your dinner date.’ She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, much to our embarrassment. ‘What? It’s not...’ Shangqi stutters, trying to form intelligible sentences. ‘Get out before I throw a fried dumpling at your face Tammy!’ She winks at me, before darting out of the door. Once my nosy colleague was out, I turn towards a red-faced Shangqi. ‘I’m so sorry... just don’t mind her.’

‘Huh?’ The man was knocked out of his stupor. ‘Oh yeah... sure,’ in an attempt to forget everything that had just happened, he opened the packets of fried dumplings. ‘Ready for war?’

‘I was born ready.’

Thirty-five minutes later, all that was left were the remnants of fried dumplings and three empty containers.

‘This should be illegal,’ I patted my stomach in satisfaction to his amusement. ‘Laugh at yourself! You lost track of how many dumplings you had and ended up taking my share!’

Raising his hands in defeat, Shangqi starts to clear the table up. ‘So how’s the center? Everything alright?’ I nodded numbly.

The past five years had been a blur. Hazy, even. All I remembered was a kid running into the office telling me that half of the staff disappeared during a school holiday program that we were running with a dozen other kids. Parents who survived the snap rushed to our center, demanding to see their children. We couldn’t give them any answer as we too, were equally perplexed. Maybe the only thing that made sense was Shangqi and Katy bursting into the center to help us with the chaos.

Coming back from what could be the 1000th phone call, I got a glimpse in the children’s playroom where the five years old kids were at, treating myself to an amusing sight. They all had red cloths draped around their neck, each holding a stick that was from the abandoned prop box. Katy wasn’t spared to as she was wearing her own red cloth that seemed a few sizes to small for her. Not that she didn’t seem to mind.

‘Alright my warriors! Chargeeeeee!!!!!!’

In unison, little pairs of feet pattered across the room towards their ‘enemy’, a cardboard cutout of a monstrous creature who was really just Shangqi in disguise.

‘RAWR! I’ll eat anyone who stands in my way!’ He stands up, mimicking a dinosaur that was about to trample an entire city. I decided that the paperwork could wait, standing near the door to watch an Oscar-worthy performance. With great effort and bravery from the kids, they finally managed to take down 5 foot 10 worth of muscle.

‘Again! Again!’

I chuckled upon seeing Shangqi on the floor, about to drift off into wonderland. It was time for me to step in. ‘Alright kids that’s enough for today! Dinner’s here.’ As the kids dispersed with the help of Katy, it was just the two of us left to clear up the mess. ‘Thank you so much, both of you. I honestly can’t think of what would happen if you guys didn’t come to help.’

Perhaps my body language was screaming ‘I’m dead tired, please just knock me out’ as Shangqi takes a cloth from me, folding it back into the box. ‘It’s what we would have done, this place, it means a lot to us - to me.’

A small knock on the door diverts our attention away from the trash. Little Yiman stands at the door, as she stares at the both of us with big round eyes.

‘Yiman, it’s late, what are you doing here?’ I squat down to her eye level. The little girl beams, ‘ 妈妈 said that I could give this to you!’ She passes me a juice box together with a handmade card with colorful scribbles. Maybe I was carrying too much on my shoulders, as I suddenly felt a boulder lifted off me. ‘Thank you,’ I smile at her sweetly, ‘I love apple juice.’ Happy with the response, she runs to Shangqi. ‘Shangqi 哥哥 gē ge (brother)!’

He breaks out into a smile, opening his arms wide. Yiman nuzzles her head into his shoulder before breaking out into uncontrollable giggles from his sudden attack of tickles. ‘Are you hear to help Miss Jen?’ I took the trash from his hands, giving him some time with the girl.

‘Yes I am. Miss Jen needs some help so I’m here today!’

‘Are you her boyfriend?’

Shangqi freezes on the spot. He had undergone what could be the toughest training by his father, fought the greatest assassins in the world and here he was - stumped by a question from a seven year old. ‘Well... I’m her close friend since when we were very young,’ Yiman looks at him expectantly. ‘She helped me when I was in trouble so I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’

‘Like how Ningning helped me when I injured my knee?’

‘Yeah... something like that.’ He breathes a sigh of relief, thankful to escape his first crisis. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he was telling himself the truth.

‘Yiman! Your mother’s here!’ The little girl gives him one last hug before running to the waiting room. Shangqi takes a moment to recollect himself. ‘Here I am thinking that you finally managed to have some stamina while interacting with young children, maybe I was wrong.’ I teased as I sat beside him.

‘Har har, hilarious.’ He tosses me a straw for our peach teas, as we were greeted by the amazing night view of San Francisco. ‘Enough about me, you good though?’ Looks like he didn’t forget the conversation that was cut off earlier. My mind goes back to a few minutes earlier, eavesdropping on the conversation.

‘I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’

Life has been so unpredictable, I don’t even want to think too far into the future. With appearances from more superpowered beings, I don’t know what’s real anymore.

‘Yeah. To be honest, it’s been so crazy and overwhelming but I’ll get through it. I have you don’t I?’ Giving him a wink, I slowly sipped on the sweetness of the tea, savoring the pearls. He pauses for a moment, nodding thoughtfully.

Life isn’t the same as it was before. But maybe, just maybe... if I had Shangqi, I’ll take each day on one at a time. Day by day.

[END]

A/N: Hoho! I literally spent the whole afternoon writing because I just had to get this idea out and also because work was pretty slow today. I have no idea what is up with my first two fics hinting at unrequited love? I guess I got inspired by Shangqi’s and Katy’s platonic relationship because I thought it was so well written but I also love Shangqi so I guess is a compromise kinda thing. Again, do like and comment if you wish! Really thankful that y’all have been so kind to me so far!

Perhaps I’ll try my hand at shorter ones like headcannons before this girl exhausts herself out and I don’t want to do that because I believe I have more to show!

#xu shangqi #shangqi imagine #shangqi x reader #katy shang chi #shang chi #shang chi x reader

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marvelatthetwilight · 3 years

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The Secret’s Out

Part 1: The Secret

Y/N has discovered she’s mated to the Volturi tracker, Demetri, and that the Cullens kept it a secret from her to keep her safe. What will happen now they’ve met and she won’t be able to escape his tracking skills?

“Carlisle I’ve messed up. Really messed up. I need help.”

“What’s wrong? What’s happened? Where are you Y/N?” Carlisle sounded concerned and you could hear Edward and Bella in the background asking what’s going on.

“I...I’m in Port Angeles...I...Carlisle I...I met Demetri” as you hear your friends in the background, the sound of your heart thudding louder now in your head as the realisation of what had happened hit you.

“Get back to the house immediately Y/N. Edward is on his way and will meet you. Where is Demetri now?” You look in your rear view mirror to see him standing where you left him, looking towards your car, a confused look on his face, but now he’s been joined by a much taller male with dark hair.

“He’s still there. Someone is with him now though, a tall man...Carlisle, they’re walking towards the car now, what do I do?”.

“Drive Y/N, he won’t hurt you, just drive”.

~~~

Demetri’s POV

Suddenly the engine started and she was off, speeding down the street.

“Er...Dem...what’s going on? What was that all about?” Felix looked perplexed, glancing between my face and the street where I was still staring.

“I think I just met my mate Felix” I turned to look at him, my brow furrowed as my interaction with Y/N repeated in my head.

“But...she’s human...?”

“That’s not the only issue Fe, she seems to be close with the Cullens” Felix’s eyebrows shoot up with surprise.

“Oh shit Dem. You need to talk to Jane and Alec. The masters will NOT be happy with you”.

“I know. Right. We must speak to the twins.”

~~~

You pull up to the Cullen house, Edward driving in behind you having joined you halfway through your journey to be sure you were safe.

“Y/N, are you ok? What happened?” Bella said as she walked fast towards you, pulling you into a hug.

“He found my keys for me, and then asked my name, he told me he was called Demetri. There was something off about him, but then I saw his eyes and I knew.” You thought back to looking into his eyes, it wasn’t like you expected...and you understood what Carlisle meant when he said you would want to leave willingly. You felt a pull immediately, like you had to be near him, be with him, despite knowing that he was far more dangerous than your friends. You didn’t feel fear thinking about him, you felt safe, and you felt anxious being away from him now.

Edward frowned at you and you realised that he had seen all these thoughts spinning around in your mind. “Sorry Edward, I don’t know what’s wrong with me” you shook your head as you spoke, hoping to shake away these thoughts.

“It’s the mate pull Y/N, you can’t help it.” Edward smiled slightly, looking towards Bella as he spoke. “We all understand.”

Carlisle stepped forward, “we need to be prepared that Alice’s vision may have changed, but I haven’t been able to contact her since she left with Jasper, so we can’t know for sure...Demetri may come for you Y/N, you need to be prepared to possibly make the decision to go with him”.

You thought carefully about Carlisle’s statement, and agreed to think more about it. You asked Carlisle if he could tell you more about Demetri and the Volturi, and he gestured for you to follow him into his study.

Carlisle talked with you about the decades he spent with the Volturi. He talked of trying to persuade the coven members that they didn’t have to kill to feed, and whilst most members dismissed him before he even had a chance to say anything, Demetri would listen, posing counter arguments and respectfully debating. Whilst Carlisle knew he would never be able to change his way of life, Carlisle appreciated that Demetri was willing to discuss it with him. Ultimately Carlisle decided that he needed to find people more like minded, and his time with the Volturi came to the end. He reassured you that you did not hold any bad will against Demetri for his time in Volterra, but that he was loyal to the Volturi, and that should always be a concern and something that you should think very carefully about.

That night, you were kept up with thoughts of Demetri, and, despite your friends warnings about him and the Volturi, you understood from Carlisle that Demetri was potentially good, just misguided.

When you were first told about your apparent bond with Demetri, you thought it was ridiculous. The idea that you would leave your friends and everything you know and love behind for someone you barely knew seemed impossible. But since meeting him today, every minute that went by without being in his company, you felt your heart aching more and more to be with him again.

Days passed with no contact from the Volturi or Demetri. The Cullens couldn’t help but expressing their fears about how odd this was. This only helped to raise your anxiety further, your heart still aching to see Demetri again.

“Aro wouldn’t let this just pass by, his prized tracker finding a mate after so many years. They must be planning something.” Edward said confidently, having seen into the mind of Aro on many occasions previously, knowing his desire for control and power. Bringing Demetri’s mate to Volterra would be sure to solidify his bond to the Volturi more so than it already was.

No one was under the impression that your humanity wouldn’t be an issue, Bella having experienced Aro’s determination to change that first hand. “What if they’re still planning to come to us like Alice saw? That they’re hoping to decimate us, and just take what they want?” Everyone glances at each other, the possibility of truth settling for everyone.

~~~

Another week had passed, and the lack of contact confused you. You had learnt more and more about the mate bond from your friends, and believed you were experiencing the pull yourself, so why wasn’t Demetri feeling the same thing?

Demetri’s POV

Two weeks has passed since I met Y/N and the distance between us was breaking me.

An agreement had been made amongst the guard that we would deal with our mission here in Seattle, getting our Volturi loyalists on side and prepared to meet with the Cullens in a weeks time. Then, when we meet with the Masters before we travel to Forks, I will inform Aro of what has happened.

It was too late to change our plans, plans which the Masters had worked hard to organise, Aro seeing this as a perfect opportunity to add to our coven.

But that didn’t stop my heart from feeling what it feels, it ached for me to be near her, to talk to her. The thought that the next time I will see the beautiful Y/N it would be to kill her friends and take her to Volterra, whether she wanted to join us or not. It wasn’t how I wanted to start forever together, but the mate bond is strong. She will forgive me in time won’t she?

Taglist

@volturidoll13 @clearwater-hoe @like-rain-or-confetti @teampaul @fatiguing-thoughts @wallwriterstuff @moviequeen51 @awesomebooklover17 @cncogirl18 @raindancer2004 @officialfictionalwreck @megzdoodle @slasher-sweetie @evakipara @reclusive-chicken-nugget

A/N: I hope I’ve remembered everyone who asked to be tagged! There will obviously be more parts to come, please let me know what you think and what you’re hoping to see!

Part 3: Secrets and Lies

#demetri x reader #demetri volturi #demetri imagine #volturi #twilight x reader #twilight imagines #twilight

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screamingatanemptyroom · 3 years

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Please Fix the Story pt 22 - Sci Fi

New part is here! Just a few more in this world. Just realized that it's been about 1 year since I've started this story. Wow.

Masterpost linked here.

Enjoy!

____________________________

The school was greatly relieved to hear that I had made a Connection and was no longer a danger to myself and others. They immediately rescinded my suspension and "encouraged" me to resume training with my new partner as soon as possible. I found the quick 180 amusing, but didn't argue.

It took multiple video calls with Alaira’s father to reassure him that everything was okay, and a few more to prevent him from throwing a parade for Liam to thank him for matching his daughter. His tears of joy at the news was a complicated moment for me.

I had felt a deep sense of joy, but it was an emotion that didn’t belong to me... it belonged to Alaira. Watching him celebrate his daughter’s recovery felt hypocritical, knowing that in the world that I hadn’t taken over, his daughter hadn’t had a good end. She had died alone and afraid, her mind fragmented.

But there was no way to tell him that.

The mission completion status on my communication device had risen quickly from 1% to 42%. Liam and I spent every waking moment together, talking, joking, and learning about each other. We practiced making the connection with the Mech, powering and controlling it now a smooth, painless process. It was natural, coming as easily to me as breathing. Working with him felt less like learning with a new partner as gaining back a missing part of me.

I was happy.

But not everyone was glad to hear we had matched.

Shortly after our match was made public, Liam and I were walking down the hallway after class, and were forced to stop by a young, angry woman blocking our path.

“It’s a lie!” Princess Ilene glared at Liam as she faced us down. “William can’t be a real Connector! He’s always been just a useless waste. He's a stain on the royal family!”

Liam seemed unfazed by his sister’s cruel words, as if he were used to it. The lack of reaction and the implications behind it made me even angrier. I stepped forward, hiding him partly behind me, and smiled pleasantly. My expression and pleasant tone obviously confused the princess, who took a step back.

“Ilene, Ilene, there’s just so much wrong with what you said… I don’t even know where to begin!” I shrugged. “ But, correcting idiocy IS my calling in life, so let me give it a shot:”

Ilene’s face was red with rage, but I ignored her incoherent sputtering, holding up a finger.

“First, Liam is capable of making the connection. He just had a strong barrier. Obviously it isn't impossible, or he and I wouldn’t be matched. “ I held up a second finger. “Secondly, and more importantly: even if he COULDN’T make the connection, he still wouldn’t be useless. He’s a kind, wonderful person, and that’s more than you can say about most Guardians or Connectors… present company included.”

“ How dare…” Princess Ilene took a step back. “What are you trying to say?”

I blinked, shocked “Oh, was I not being obvious enough? I don’t like you. I think Liam is a much better human being than you, and find it pitiful that you try to derive your self worth from putting him down.”

Liam stepped forward, grabbing my hand. “It’s ok…”

“No, its not. You don’t deserve for people to call you trash.” I felt emotional, as if something deep inside me was trying to break free.

“It’s always been like this.” He shrugged, “I’m used to being alone.”

____________________________

“Friends, family?”

The man in front of me was smiling at my question, but the expression was so sad it made me want to cry.

“None.” He twisted his hands in his lap, looking away. “I’m supposed to be alone.”

“Why?”

“Supposedly that’s my fate.”

____________________________

“You are not trash.” I tightened my grip on Liam’s hand. “ and you’re not alone anymore.”

“I know.” He smiled, “Thanks.”

Princess Ilene spoke up, obviously tired of being ignored. “How dare you trample on Chris’s kindness and reject him for this tr…” She started to say the word “trash” but seeing my face, nervously trailed off and started again. “You don’t even know if you two have a high enough resonance match to ward off your mental degradation…!”

“We do. It’s gone.”

She paused, thrown by my matter of fact tone. “… But what if you’re a higher match with Chris…”

“Don’t care. I hate him.”

“… But…”

“You do bring up a good point, though.” I turned to Liam. “We should see what our resonance match rate is.”

He looked nervous. “What if it isn’t very high?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re already partners. I’m just curious.” I grinned. “Plus, I’m pretty sure it’s really high, and I’d love to use that to shut people up.”

He chuckled at that. “If it means that much to you to rub it into people’s faces...”

“It does.”

We walked towards the match center, leaving Princess Ilene stunned into silence behind.

____________________________

Liam got more anxious the closer we got to the match center. “You promise you won’t break our partnership if our match score is low?”

“You know I wouldn’t do that.” I didn’t feel insulted at his questioning. I could feel his insecurity, the need for me to say out loud what he thought he knew. “Low or high, we’re partners. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good.” He sighed, grinning. “I like being stuck with you.”

Finally, we were facing the machine that had failed us both so many times. Irrationally, I felt a little nervous, the many prior failures of the past few weeks too fresh and painful to completely forget.

Liam stepped away from me, reaching out and placed his hands on the panel first.

“Unrecognized tester. Please let down your mental barrier to proceed with Match testing.”

I rubbed my forehead tiredly as the robotic rejection echoed loudly around the room; “I forgot your barrier is still around since it doesn’t effect me anymore.”

“Honestly, I had forgotten too.” He responded with a happy smile.

A crowd was starting to gather, curious at our actions. As more and more people realized what we were doing, I began hearing the whispering between them.

“Didn’t she go crazy?”

“...thought she couldn’t match?”

“He has a barrier? ...never could match.”

“I heard they already formed a connection.”

“Heard her dad is a general, spread the rumor of her matching so she wouldn’t get kicked out.”

“Isn’t she matched up with Chris?”

“Why are they here?”

I grabbed Liam’s hand again, feeling relieved when I felt his warm skin against my own. “Don’t listen to them.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He stared straight at me, ignoring the hostile words and gazes of the crowd. “You’re beside me, and that’s all that matters.”

I squeezed his hand in my own. A strong desire welled up within me to be worthy of the trust he gave me. I wanted to show everyone what Liam could do, the bond we had... but of course it couldn't be too easy.

“We just have to figure out how to get your barrier down enough for the machine to read you." I glanced down at my hand that was still holding his. "I mean, I’m touching you now, right? There’s no barrier between us?”

He stared down at our clasped hands, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yes, I feel you. I mean, no, there’s no barrier.”

“Good!" I gestured to the pad with my free hand. "Then why don't you try again while we're still touching each other?”

He placed his hand back on the machine.

“Please let down your mental barrier to proceed with Match testing.” The machine's voice repeated itself calmly.

His hand fell away, frustrated. I could feel his anxiety, and worried deep down that I had made a wrong choice. I did this to reassure him that we are a good match. To shut up everyone saying that it's a made up story to justify the removal of my suspension. To prove to everyone that Liam isn't useless, even by their own stupid standards.

But none of this will happen if he can't use the machine.

I thought it over, and grinned as I came up with a plan. “Hmm… Well, there’s one other thing we can try…”

I leaned in and kissed him, grabbing his free hand with my own and placing it on the pad together. His breath caught in his chest and he froze in shock very briefly before kissing back. In that moment I almost forgot why I had kissed him in the first place, but the robotic voice quickly reminded me.

“Resonance match detected…. Scanning…. Resonance Frequency Match...100%.”

The voice had barely faded before there were shouts of shock from the crowd. The room descended into chaos at the announcement. I broke away from Liam, who was still distracted, and stared at him.

“Did that machine just say… we are a 100 PERCENT match? I didn’t even think that was possible!”

Liam blinked. “I’m sorry, I dinwhat did you say?”

“We’re a perfect match, Liam.” I laughed. “I knew this was a great idea!”

Definitely didn't completely doubt the plan halfway through... yep.

“So… no one can separate us then?” His body relaxed, and he reached out, pulling me against himself and hugging me tightly. I felt the trembling of his muscles and knew that the anxiety he had shown was only the tip of the iceberg. His true fears and insecurities were still well hidden, even from me.

I hugged him back, waiting for him to back away. The crowd’s murmuring were now a loud roar, as everyone discussed a match rate that most thought impossible to achieve. And there, in the back of the crowd, I saw a solitary figure standing there, watching us with a blank stare.

Chris.

I shuddered, holding Liam tighter. The first thing I had done when Liam and I announced our match was to report to the authorities Chris holding me in his room. I suspected him of drugging me as well, remembering the prick of the needle before falling unconscious.

I was laughed at.

“Why would a student with a crystal clear reputation go out of his way to kidnap a general’s daughter? He already had a match, a better one than his resonance with you if I recall. If anyone had motive to kidnap someone, it would be you to him!”

The words were cutting, made worse by the pity on their faces.

“It’s obvious: your mind was breaking down due to the strain without a Connector, and came up with this fantastical plot of being kidnapped.”

And despite my objections, the claim was dropped. I hadn’t seen Chris since the day we parted in his room.

Until now.

His gaze held mine. He was expressionless, watching us with a detached, almost clinical air. I would have almost thought he was bored, or at least uncaring about the situation in front of him… if not for his eyes…

His eyes were burning with rage.

I looked away first feeling an odd sense of familiarity, as if something similar had happened before.

____________________________

A few days later Liam and I had our first mock battle. Suspended together in the Connection chamber within the Mech, the constant physical and mental connection with Liam made operating the Mech much easier than it ever had been alone.

I fought with a sword, having abandoned the dual guns completely. I breathed a sigh of relief at the speed I could move at as I ducked under the enemy Mech’s attack. Turning with the spin of my dodge, I used the momentum and I swung around to slash the torso of our opponent with the sword.

“Nice hit!” Liam’s voice in my headset was excited. He was cheering me on along the way, spurring me to show off with more complex moves when possible, hoping to impress him.

I pressed the attack, slamming the Mech with the shoulder of ours, and kicking it to the ground before it could recover its balance. The movements were smooth, and my head was clear of any pain. The prior drain and discomfort of controlling the giant robot was completely gone.

As our opponent fell to the ground, I pressed the tip of the sword into the Mech’s neck. The referee called out our victory, and the crowd around the arena cheered, but it was just noise to me. All that mattered was Liam’s excited babbling in my ear.

“That was awesome! I’ve always wondered what it felt like to win a Mech fight, and it’s so much cooler than I ever imagined! This is great! When can we fight again?”

“Glad you had fun, Liam.” I laughed at the innocent delight in his voice. After the stress and pain I had experienced since waking up in this world, the uncertainty of who I was and why I was here, there was something simple and healing about being by Liam’s side.

I feel happy.

I was nervous about admitting it, even to myself, as if the simple acknowledgement of the positive emotion would be enough to destroy it. But I couldn’t deny it. I WAS happy.

After we had undocked and changed, Liam and I relaxed in the fighter’s lounge. Liam as always, had a container that he pulled out of a bag, opening it to reveal a slice of cake. I took it from him with a murmur of thanks, and after the first bite sighed with joy.

“I've been meaning to ask you: Where do you get this cake? It's obviously not from the school shop, it’s way too good!”

Liam smiled at the question. “I made it myself.” Usually more quiet and shy, he seemed very confident when it came to matters such as food. The change in his attitude was something I loved to see.

“Really? You made it? This is too delicious… if only I could have this all the time.” I took another bite, savoring it. As I swallowed, I looked up at him and joked. "Yep, I think the only solution would be for me to just marry you.”

“…” There was a strange silence in the room. I ate some more cake, unconcerned at first, but as the awkward stillness stretched on I paused in my actions, turning towards Liam again with a questioning look.

His face was bright red, and he stared at me with a look of shock and joy.

“Liam?”

He nodded, and blushing more, pulled out his communication device, dialing a number.

“Who are you calling…?”

Alaira’s father, General Gladus showed up on the holographic projection from his device. He stared at Liam, confused for a moment, before barking out with a frown. “Who is this?”

Liam sat up straight, staring at the man with a solemn expression. “General Gladus, my name is William. I am the third born of the Royal family, and a first year student at the academy, and a Level S Connector.”

General Gladus grinned. “I know who you are, son. You’re the wonderful young man who matched with my daughter. I’ve been wanting to talk with you and thank you…”

“Your daughter has asked me to marry her and I have agreed.”

“What?”

My father and I asked in unison.

“I was very happy to receive your daughter’s offer of marriage. I will do my very best to support her in all her endeavors.”

“She proposed?”

I silently mouthed an echoing question as my father burst out loudly. “I proposed?”

Liam nodded. “I wanted to let you know so that you could arrange for military leave and be present for our wedding. I know the paperwork can take weeks to months. ”

“…” General Gladus looked stunned. Slowly, his hologram turned towed me. “Alaira, is this true?”

"Yeah, military leave paperwork is notoriously slow..."

He interrupted. "No I mean about the engagement!"

I glanced over at Liam’s excited face.

____________________________

“I don’t believe it’s real.” He whispered, staring down at our hands that were clasped together. “I thought that I was always going to be alone. I thought my fate… my role… ”

I fiddled with the silver band in my hand, trying it on his finger. “Screw fate. We’re getting married now.”

“Yeah.” He grinned, the smile lighting up his face, making the whole room brighter. “Screw fate. I’m your husband!”

____________________________

I shrugged. “What can I say? We’re a destined couple.” I briefly explained about our 100% resonance match.

“… Did you say 100% match?” At my nod, General Gladus opened up his arms. “Welcome to family! When's the wedding?”

After a few more minutes of discussion, Liam hung up, still looking happy.

“Should we notify your parents?”

His face froze. When his gaze finally rose to met mine I shrunk back from the dull look I saw there.

“No reason to.” He reached out, tucking back my hair. “A family without love is just blood related acquaintances. You’re my real family, wife.”

I hugged him again. “That’s right. I’m your family.” I hadn’t really meant to propose… it was just a joke. But the second he called me wife, my heart had felt a sense of recognition. It was happy, but also hurt, a deep remembered pain. A panicked feeling rose up within me, as fear, despair and sadness came in waves, before leaving quickly, overwhelming me without warning or reason. I desperately wanted to remember something, to tear open the fog clouding my brain and peer at what was hidden behind it. But I couldn't.

You must accept your fate. A metallic voice rang in my head, cold, dispassionate, filled with undeniable.

“No.” I whispered, tears filling my eyes even if I wasn’t sure why they were there.

Liam noticed my distress. “Alaira?”

“I'm fine." I think we should go back to practice.” I pulled him to his feet. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

“You’re right, let’s continue working hard so we can save the world like you wanted. But on our next break, we have a wedding to plan!” For the first time, Liam was more excited than me to get to practice. He grabbed my hand and raced forward.

____________________________

Later that night, I went back to my dorm room, still thinking over my last conversation with Liam. He was energetically talking about wedding plans, making lists and drawings with the hologram on his communicator, storing them in special file with my name on it.

When I asked him why he was so excited, he paused, staring down at his hands. “Have you ever felt a desire that was so strong, it seemed to be beyond anything you’ve experienced before?” He glanced up. “I feel this, Alaira. Deep in my soul. I want to be by your side. I want to marry you, but even if you didn’t want that, I’d be your minion or your sidekick. Being by you… helping you… it’s such an integral part of myself, I couldn’t separate from it if I tried.”

“Liam…”

“I think I believe in reincarnation and soul mates.” He smiled. “I’m so happy right now that I think this has to be a hallucination, it can’t be real.”

“I don’t believe it’s real.” I felt the memory of the young man’s whisper in my head again, and pushing it back, I leaned forward to kiss Liam gently.

“It’s real.”

Now alone in my room, I couldn’t help but feel bewildered by the connection with Liam, the emotions and memories that accompanied every moment with him.

“Who am I?” I leaned against the wall and whispered to myself.

“That is the question isn’t it?”

At the unexpected answer I straightened up, falling into a defensive stance. Recognizing the intruder did not make relax, however. If anything it made me more tense.

“Chris. What are you doing here?” I kept my voice calm, trying to hide my inner tension.

“I’m getting tired, Bel.” He sat down on my bed and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m just… so tired of all this.”

“What did you call me?” The name resonated with me, much more than “Alaira” ever had.

He ignored me. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to give up right away. It promised me…”

The room fell into silence. I stood as still as a statue, barely daring to breathe. I was desperate to hear more, terrified to let him continue speaking. Chris’s voice was different, his tone filled with years of regret. His eyes when they stared at me, seemed to look right through me, as if seeing through my skin to something deeper and more profound.

“Why can’t you just accept your fate, Bel?” He sighed, the sound seeming to drag on too long. “Everything depends on it.”

“What do you…?”

“The lower realms you treasure… the friends you’ve made… even…” He hesitated. “Even his existence depends on everyone having their role and playing their part.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Chris.”

“MY NAME ISN’T CHRIS!” He yelled, the sound startling in the otherwise silent room. “Just like yours isn’t Alaira. Just like his… it wasn’t supposed to be…”

“Liam?”

”THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HIS NAME!” Chris, or whoever he was, stood up, his face red with rage. “He corrupted it! He refused his role, and ended up tricking you to do the same.” He stepped closer. “Why do you always force me to be the one who has to carry the weight of the realms on my shoulders? Why does he get to be the only one who is happy? I don’t want to play these games anymore, Bel.”

“I’m not playing games!” I shouted back, frustrated. “I don’t remember anything!”

“And you won’t. Not until it’s over. But it will be soon. Because I’m going to end it.” He walked towards the door, preparing to leave, only stopping when I grabbed his arm.

“No. You aren’t leaving until you explain what you meant.”

His eyes lit up briefly at our contact, and I pulled my hand away quickly. “You made a bet, Bel, and these are rules you can’t escape. All it takes is one failed mission. One failure before you can finish the task of piecing together your soul.”

“Piecing together…?” His words struck a chord within me, but I shook my head. “I may not understand anything going on, but I’ll tell you this: I won’t fail my mission.”

The light is his eyes dimmed. “You started this. Just remember that, when you regret everything. You. Started. This.”

He left through room, slamming the door behind him. I stood in place, staring blankly, my mind racing.

Realms, real names, missions and bets… I don’t understand any of it.

But I knew one thing, as certainly as if it were imprinted on my soul.

I would not accept my fate.

Even if I couldn’t remember what that fate was.

Even if I had to destroy fate itself to escape it.

#writing #please fix the story #sci fi #lost memories #a little more liam #plot for the sci world about the speed up.

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sparkleofpizza · 4 years

Text

How to say I love you - Dick Grayson x reader

Requested: no

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Jason needed to know if what he was feeling was love, so he went to his older brother hoping he could get some help, after all Dick was engaged to the love of his life.

Prompts: 50 wordless ways to say "I love you" 7. Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise. 23. Taking a picture together to print and hang later. 36. Helping brush their hair after a shower. 49. Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

Word count: 1.8k

Jason had thought a lot before it actually came down to it. He considered all of his options, but there wasn’t many. He could ask Roy, but he didn’t know much either, Kori provided to be little help. Bruce would just be weird, Tim didn’t know anything either. Did he even need to justify why he wasn’t going to ask Damian? Duke was a nice guy, but he wasn’t sure he would be of much help either. Stephanie and Barbara would make it a big deal, and Cass wouldn’t know how to help.

So there he was right now. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, watching Dick make himself a bowl o cereal. He seemed very concentrated, trying to balance the perfect amount of milk to go with his favorite cereal.

Jason took a deep breath, it was now or never. It was just the two of them. Damian was probably at the cave, Bruce had already left to work and Tim most probably went with him. Cass was getting ready to go to school, Duke had to leave for college in a while. So it was just him and Dick.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Jason questioned, almost wishing his brother would say no

“Good morning, Jaybird.” Dick answered happily “Of course! What can I help you with?”

“How did you… How did you find out that…” he stopped, realizing how stupid he would sound if he asked that question out loud “You know what? Never mind.”

Dick frowned “What is it? You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Jason considered his options, if he asked the question and Dick started laughing or judged him, he could bolt out of room. His bike was parked in the driveway since he had spend the night over. The keys were in his pocket, and he was sure Dick wouldn’t be able to react fast enough to follow him in time. Before his brother even knew he would be in one of his safe houses that his family did not know about.

“How did you realize that you were in love with y/n? How did you know she was the one?”

Dick’s face blossomed into a smile. But it wasn’t a mockery one, it was a pure happiness smile, the one that only you could put on his face.

“Oh, Jaybird, it actually took me a while to realize that.” He said, taking a sit a stool, motioning for him to join “I had many girlfriends in my life before, but everything was different with y/n, you know?”

Jason was hoping for more, waiting for more. He didn’t watch with envy for so many years his brother being deeply in love with his fiancé and being as happy as Jason has ever seen, for Dick to not sare it all with him. He wanted, no needed to know if what he was possibly feeling for a certain person was what he was so afraid it was.

“There was this one time” he smiled “that y/n was trying to reach the top shelf in my kitchen…”

Cookies. You wanted cookies, craving them like crazy after having tried to spend a week without eating sugar, but you couldn’t, you needed sugar in your life. You knew Dick kept your favorite cookies at the middle cabinet, what you didn’t expect was for it to be as high as it was. Did he really have to put that in the top shelf?

You stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms, but it didn’t work, you still couldn’t reach it. You looked around, spotting a stool near the laundry. You grabbed it, positioning it in front of the place you needed it, and stepped on top of it. Again, you stood in your tiptoes, successfully grabbing the cookies. What you didn’t expect was to lose balance and fall.

You screamed, hitting the ground with a yelp. Ouch, that hurt.

“Y/n?” Dick yelled, coming running towards the kitchen and finding you on the ground “Oh my God, what happened?”

He kneeled down before you, cradling your face, looking it over for injuries.

You grinned at him “I fell down when I was grabbing some cookies.” You showed him the smashed package in your hand

He shook his head, helping you sit up, but he couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. This was such a you thing to do.

"Why didn't you ask me to get those for you?"

You pouted at him.

"I was actually hoping I'd eat them before you realize that I gave up on my month without sugar thing."

Dick pretended to be hurt "You didn't plan on sharing? How dare you?"

You giggled. He knew just the right thing to say. You were probably going to feel guilty for having given up, but there he was cracking a joke just to make you smile.

You two got up from the floor, but you moaned in pain when he grabbed your arm to help you stead yourself. He frowned, looking at your forearm where a big bruise was starting to form.

"Does it hurt?" he asked

"Yeah, but only when I touch it."

He nodded, bringing your arm to his lips and laying a kiss there, very softly so it wouldn't hurt you.

"Now, I've kissed it better."

You smiled, your boyfriend is such a dork. A cute one.

"Oh, there was this one time too that we were out and I took a picture of her on my phone. I didn't think much of it, until later when I was out on a mission and I grabbed my phone and saw it there." Dick smiled, pulling out his phone to show his brother which picture he was talking about "She looked to beautiful and before I knew it I had already printed it and now I carry it with me, inside my wallet, so I always have her close to me, even when we're far away."

Jason thought he would be sick listening to this stuff. Normally, he would make fun of his brother for being a softie romantic dork. But right now, he was wanting more stories.

"There was also this one time..." Dick continued

You got out of the shower hoping you would feel refreshed, but you had such a hard day at work today. You had to go in earlier and ended up staying until late, you reassured yourself it was worth it, you were working your way towards a promotion and you could really use the extra cash that will come with it. But damn, you were so tired.

After having your muscles relaxed in the warm water, you wanted nothing more than to just colapse in bed and fall asleep.

"Why are you up so late, angel?"

You looked trough the mirror, watching Dick in his Nightwing suit standing behind you. You were so tired you didn't even hear him slip trough your window.

He would do this sometimes, after you found out about his secret ident. Show up in the middle of night, sometimes to make sure you were ok, other times just to see you for a while.

"Late shift at work, and also early shift. I am so tired." you mumbled, closing your eyes and allowing your back to rest against his strong chest "I think I'm going to go to bed now. Will you tuck me in?"

He kissed your temple.

"But your hair is wet, sweetheart. You're going to get sick."

"I have no energy to blow dry it."

Dick smiled, guiding you to bed while he grabbed a few stuff in the bathroom. He sat behind you in bed, gently brushing your hair, untangling nots. Then he blew dried it, making sure all of the spots were dry so you wouldn't get sick - winter was approaching, he didn't want you to catch a cold.

"There you go." he smiled at you, tucking you into bed "Goodnight, sweetheart."

You smiled with your eyes closed, feeling him peck your lips before going out the window again.

Jason was so engrossed in Dick's tellings, that he felt to notice Tim slipping in the sit beside him, sipping at his coffee mug. Damian stood at the doorstep, holding Titus' leash, completely forgetting it was going to ask one of them to walk his dog. Duke stopped midway while putting his laptop inside his backpack, and Cass stood near the trash can, throwing away a rotten banana that she though was still eatable.

"Oh, when I go away on missions that last more than three days..."

You heard the front door open and close. You jumped from the couch.

"Dick!" you exclaimed, running towards him "You're back!"

You threw yourself at him and he caught you with ease. His arms circling around your waist while you placed your around his shoulders. You hug him so tight, knocking some of the wind inside his lungs. You had missed him so much, and you were so worried about him.

He pulled back, staring into your eyes.

"I love you." He said without second thoughts

"I know." you smiled "I love you too."

Jason absorbed every single word that had just came out of his brother's mouth. He was surprised he didn't give up halfway trough. And his heart... it was beating weirdly inside his chest, there was something cold inside his belly.

"So after doing all of this... idiotic things you realized you loved y/n?" He asked slowly

"Yeah." Dick nodded his head "It was actually Roy who made me realize that."

Jason frowned "Roy?"

"That day that I meet you two for that mission you asked for my help. Roy asked me about y/n, and I spent nearly two hours talking about all of this stuff, telling him all of this. In the end he told me he was glad I had finally found the one. And that's when it hit me. I ended most of my relationships when it got close to them finding out about who I am, but I let her stay. And all of those little things I did for her and she did for me? That was our way of wordlessly saying I love you to each other."

He stared at his siblings who had lost looks on their faces. Cass frowned a bit to herself, thinking. Tim fished the phone out of his pocket, typing furiously at it as if his life depended on it. Duke ran out of his room, saying he had to get to the library before it was too late. Damian quickly left the room, muttering something to himself. And Jason slowly got up from his sit.

"Need to go somewhere?" Dick asked teasingly

He nodded his head. Heading towards the exit.

"There is someone I really need to talk to." And with that he left

Dick smiled to himself. He did it, he really did. He inspired all of his siblings to go out there and get their loved ones. He showed them it was worth it.

He grabbed his phone that was laying near his bowl of cereal, going to the speed dial and placing it on his ear.

"Hey, sweetheart." he grinned "You're never gonna guess what just happened."

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick Grayson x y/n #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson headcanon #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #nightwing fanfiction #nightwing headcanons #nightwing imagine #dc x reader #batboys #batboys imagine #BatFam

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clanoffetts · 4 years

Text

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

Chapter III

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blossoms.

warnings/things to note: swearing; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); no use of ‘Y/N’; my fc for Paz is Winston Duke, I don’t describe Paz too much at the moment, but just know that’s who I picture!

word count: 6.4k

karyai - main living room of the covert - a big chamber for talking, resting, and even the last secure stronghold when under attack.

ba’vodu - uncle/aunt

The birds of Yavin IV’s song was calming as you came into full consciousness. The sleep from the night before was much needed, and very refreshing. You opened your eyes and looked to where Paz had been before you’d fallen asleep. He wasn’t there. Neither was your sleep mask. “Kriff!” You flung your body onto your right side, looking away from Paz’s side of the bed.

Shit. Shit. Shit. You’d told him you wouldn't look. Hell, you told him it was impossible for you to look. And here you are, no mask over your eyes. What if he’d been there? After all the time you’d spent convincing him to share the bed with you, that it’d be safe. Sure, you hadn’t actually seen him, but the possibility frightened you. You couldn’t violate him like that, even if it was an accident. You couldn’t live with yourself.

A few minutes of deep breathing later, you got out of bed, and headed into the ‘fresher. You wanted so badly to take another shower, to relax under the water, but you knew it was important to save water, not sure if the covert had water to spare for your journey. You’d have to be content with washing your face and pretending.

You stared in the mirror, into your own eyes. You replayed the night before: the vibroblade that now sat with your stuff, the idea of Paz taking you to his home and meeting his family, learning his traditions. The pure bliss you were in as you fell asleep, and then the violent jerk of the morning’s close call. Your eyes were no longer as tired as they had been when you’d looked at yourself last night.

You threw on jeans and a shirt, and finally left the safety of the ‘fresher. Would Paz be mad about the mask coming off? He was so hesitant as it was, you were terrified that this would push him away, make him realize that there’s too much risk in a relationship with a non-Mando.

“Kebiin’ika?” Paz called as he heard the door to the bedroom open.

“Yeah?”

He stood up and met you halfway between the room and the common area. “How’d you sleep?” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a half hug before leading you to the table you’d sat at the night before.

“Pretty good,” you said, taking a seat. “Paz?” He hummed and sat down a bowl of some type of porridge in front of you. “Are you mad at me?”

The helmet snapped up to look at you. “Why would I be mad? If you think you broke the towel rack in the ‘fresher, you haven’t. It’s always been like that.”

“No, Paz,” you said. “About the sleep mask. It came off last night. I’m so sorry, I thought it would stay on. I’m not really a wild sleeper so I don’t know how it happened, but I understand if you’re mad at me-”

“Kebiin’ika,” he says, cutting you off. You suck in a big breath, not realizing how long you’d been rambling. “It’s not that big of a deal to me, it was an accident. You didn’t see my face, right?”

You nodded. “Right.”

“See? No creeds broken,” he says. He can tell you’re still a little shaken up, and moves to lay his large, gloved hand over your small one. “If I didn’t trust you, mesh’la, I would’ve slept on the cot. I knew the mask came off when I woke up this morning, but I trust you enough that I know you wouldn’t use the opportunity of me being asleep to look, even on accident.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you swear you could hear a smile on his face. “Are you sure? I know I didn’t see anything this time, but I would understand if you want me to take the cot from now on.” He ushered you closer to him, his arm around you. It was a bit awkward with all his armor and clothes, but the heart was there. “Kebiin’ika,” he said. “I’m comfortable with sleeping the way we did last night as long as you are. I’m not worried.”

You sighed, leaning into him. The beskar was cold and you just wanted to feel him, his warm skin. “Ok,” you say. “If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable.”

“Good,” he replies. “Now, why don’t you finish eating while I call the covert. Tell them that I’ll be there shortly to pick up some of our supplies, ok?”

You nodded, and he let you out of his embrace. While spooning the food into your mouth, you watched him at the hull, punching some numbers into his gauntlet and then speaking in what you assumed was Mando’a. It was such a beautiful language, especially coming from Paz’s mouth. And he spoke it with a pride in his voice that he didn’t have when speaking Basic.

“Alright, mesh’la,” he said as you got to the bottom of the bowl. “I’ll be back soon, no more than two hours.”

“Two hours?”

“Yes, two hours,” he laughed. “It may be sooner, but you never know. Mandalorians take a long time to say goodbye.”

You smiled at him. “Alright, have fun,” you say.

“Oh, I will,” he replies. You watched as the mountain of blue beskar exited the ship and mounted the speeder the two of you rode the day before. A lot has changed since then, you thought. Before you knew it, Paz Vizsla was gone and a dirt cloud took his place.

Paz’s ride back to his home didn’t take too long at all. And when he arrived, he spotted Din and Grogu on some rocks outside the entrance.

“C’mon, Grogu,” Din is saying. “You can do it.” Grogu sat on a rock opposite Din, with his eyes closed. In Din’s hand was Grogu’s beskar ball. Grogu and his ball were inseparable.

As Paz dismounted and began walking towards the hangar, Grogu’s eyes shot open and he let out an excited shriek. Paz didn’t speak fifty-year-old-toddler, but he figured it was something along the lines of “ba’vodu!”.

Din turned around, too, and stood. He picked up his little foundling and greeted Paz half way. “How was your evening?”

“Nice,” Paz says. “Yours?”

Din nods. “Mine was ok, but I don’t have a pretty mechanic in my room like you do.”

Paz rolled his eyes. “Din, it’s not like that.”

Grogu made a sound of protest. “Hm,” Din said. “My Jedi son seems to think differently. He’s never wrong about these things…” Din teases.

Paz stops just as they’re about to open the blast doors. “Din, Grogu,” Paz says. “Just between us?”

“Just between us,” Din says, and Grogu babbles.

Paz sighed, was he really doing this? He was. “We’re courting.”

“I knew it!” Din exclaims, and Grogu laughs. “I knew it, Paz. So what’d you give her?”

Paz patted the empty sheath. “Vibroblade.”

“Classic,” Din says. “What will you propose marriage with? Something of her homeworld’s tradition? Or wait and exchange blades that Armorer makes?”

Paz shakes his head, and he’s smiling beneath his bucket. “Maker, Din, I haven’t thought that far ahead.” Though he figured it’d be blades. You didn’t seem too fond of being reminded of Alderaan. “But I’ll put your name in if we need a wedding planner.”

“You better,” Din replies. “Armorer will want to know, too.”

Paz nodded. “I know. I’m not sure I’ll tell her this time. I don’t want word getting out.”

“She won’t tell anyone, you know that.”

“I know, but still,” Paz said, finally punching in the code and opening the doors. “But we’ve got a covert of eavesdroppers.”

There was a child tending to one of his chores just inside, and as soon as he spotted Paz, he practically lunged at him. “Paz!”

“Hey, ad’ika,” Paz says, taking the young kid up onto one of his arms. “I didn’t get to see you yesterday!”

“I know,” he said. “My buir had me at home practicing math. Math! Can you believe it?”

Paz laughed. “Knowing your buir? Yes, yes I can.”

The group walked further inside the winding the halls of the covert, adding new people to their crew as they saw them. Eventually they reached the karyai, and everyone got comfortable on the many cushions, chairs, and sofas littered about the room.

Paz stayed standing. “Sorry, everyone,” he said when he noticed their disappointment that he wasn’t going to be there long. “But I’ve got my end of a deal to hold up, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.” Paz noticed that at the mention of a her, helmets turned to the side, looking at each other, silently gossiping.

“Then come in here, Paz,” Armorer says, at the doorway to her forge. “And we’ll discuss what you need.”

Paz obeyed, making his way through all the Mandalorians relaxing in the karyai. He closed the door behind him, and sat at Armorer’s table. “We’ve compiled some things for your journey,” she says. “It’s not much, but it’s what we have. It’s in the hangar, I’m sure Clan Djarin would be happy to assist you in taking it back to your ship.”

“I’m sure it’s more than enough,” Paz replies. “Thank you, Armorer.”

She nodded. “Now, how happy was your mechanic at being left on the ship for so long yesterday?”

Paz could hear her smirk. “She got bored. Wasn’t there when I got back,” he said. “I almost lost my mind, but she was just in the little town, shopping.”

Armorer let out a soft chuckle. “And you’re trying to tell everyone you aren’t smitten? Maker, Vizsla, I’d think you’d be better with convincing by now.”

Paz sighed. “You’d think.”

Armorer’s stare bore into him. For Mandalorians, it usually wasn’t intimidating when another looked at you through their visor. It was normal. But Armorer’s presence was different, she was intimidating. “Where is your vibroblade?”

Kriff. “It’s right here,” he said, patting the sheath on his left side, where his second vibroblade sat.

“No, not that one,” she said. “The one I forged for you when you donned your helmet. I swear you had it yesterday.”

Well, he might as well tell her at this point. She wouldn’t believe that he’d lost it, this blade had Mandalorian and Vizsla carvings in it, he rarely used it in combat. “Don’t tell anyone this,” Paz said. “I want it to be a secret for now, ok?”

She nodded.

“I gave it to her. The mechanic.”

Armorer sucked in a breath so sharp that her vocoder picked it up. “As a courtship proposal?” Paz nodded. “I wish you both many blessings, many warriors,” she said. Paz didn’t know if you wanted warriors, but Armorer’s blessings were traditional, and carried a lot of weight.

“Thank you, Armorer,” he replies. “I will pass along the message.”

“If you two are courting, then why didn’t you bring her here? Are you still going on your journey?”

Paz nodded. “She has unfinished business in the Hosnian system,” he didn’t tell her what business. It wasn’t his place, and Armorer understood. “We’ll be back, though I’m not sure when.”

“Long hyperspace travel will be good for your relationship.” Armorer entered counselor mode. “Building trust and love.”

Paz always felt a bit awkward when she became a psychologist. So he just nodded. “Anyways, you said the supplies were in the hangar?”

She nodded. “Take care of her, Paz,” she said. They both stood. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Paz repeated.

Paz exited the Armorer’s workshop. Back in the karyai, some people had gone back to their rooms or to tend to their duties, but many still sat around. “Din?” Paz said to his friend.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t happen to know where Bezza is, do you?”

Din nodded. “Last I saw she was in one of the sparring rooms.” Paz thanked him and headed off down one of the long corridors towards the training rooms.

All the sparring room doors were open except one. Paz opened it gently, and looked inside. Bezza wielded the beskar staff Din had brought back with him. She was sparring with a reprogrammed droid, the only one in the covert. Paz watched with pride as she jabbed at the droid, careful not to hurt it too much. There were still children that would need to learn from sparring with the machine.

As she landed a final blow, the droid declared her the winner, and she backed off. Paz clapped from his place at the door. “That was very impressive,” he said. “You’ve gotten used to the armor quite well.”

“Paz!” She dropped the staff and walked towards her friend. “No one told me you were here.”

“That’s probably best,” Paz said. “I need to tell you something, and I need you to not repeat it, ok?”

Bezza nodded. “Ok. But if you tried to bring a Loth-cat in again, I’m not making any promises.”

Paz laughed. “It’s not a Loth-cat. It’s about my girl.”

“Your girl?”

Paz nodded. “We’re courting.”

Bezza threw her arms around her ba’vodu. “Paz that’s wonderful!” Their beskar sang as he patted Bezza on the back. When she finally let go she said, “Are you guys staying here? When do you think you’ll marry? I know Mandalorian courtships tend to not last long, but she’s not a Mandalorian so-”

Paz cut off her rambling by saying, “I don’t know. Like I told Din, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Bezza laughed. “Of course you haven’t. How many people have you told, Paz? You know if you tell the wrong person, your courtship will be the topic at many dinner tables tonight.”

“I know,” Paz replied. “Only you, Din, and Armorer know.”

“Ok,” she said. “So I take it you’re not going to stay here?”

Paz shook his head. “We’re off to Hosnian Prime as soon as I get back with the supplies.” Somehow, Paz could sense Bezza’s disappointment. He wanted so badly to be there for her, help her through her losses, but he’d made a promise to you. A Mandalorian’s honor was their everything. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be there, but we’ll be coming back here. Maybe even to stay.”

“What’s even on Hosnian Prime?”

Paz sighed. He wanted to tell her, to give her a detailed reason so maybe she felt better. But, again, it wasn’t his place. “She has some business to take care of, Bez.”

She nodded, somewhat satisfied. “Can I walk with you to the hangar?” Paz nodded and they left the sparring room. All the way there, Bezza asked questions in typical teenage fashion. What’s her name? What’s she like? What color is her hair? And Paz answered them all. He figured you wouldn’t mind, and they weren’t too personal. All her questions reminded Paz of just how young she was. Other Mandalorians would understand not to ask those questions, just as Bezza would, in time.

In the hangar were Din and Grogu and that kriffing ball. Din had already loaded the speeder bikes with the fuel and food, and was now just killing time with his son. “Din!” Paz called. “I’m just about ready.”

Paz turned to Bezza. “When I get back we’ll start a plan for your training. There’s still a lot to get used to in the armor, especially with the jetpack.”

“Ok,” she said. “Hurry back, alright? And be safe!” Paz and Bezza exchanged a few more goodbyes, and he promised to pass on her hello to you.

Finally, Paz and Din had mounted the speeder bikes. Grogu sat in a carrier on Din’s chest, obviously excited to feel the wind whip around his long ears. The men had unspokenly made it a race, revving their engines and attempting to pass each other without knocking their cargo loose.

You sat outside the ship, taking in the fresh air as the Mandalorians arrived in a cloud of dust, Mando’a, and a baby’s shriek. A baby? You thought.

You got on your feet and approached the speeders. To your surprise, the Mandalorian in unpainted beskar greeted you by name. Quite a lot kinder than the stare he’d met you with when you’d first arrived. “Hello,” you said. “It’s nice to meet you.” Then your eyes finally dropped from the helmet to the carrier on his chest. “Who’s this?”

“My son,” the Mando said. “His name is Grogu.”

You smiled at the baby. “Hello, Grogu,” you said, and introduced yourself to him. Grogu’s tiny little arms reached out for you, and with Mando's permission, you picked him up. “You’re a tiny little thing, aren’t you, Grogu?” He babbled excitedly.

The two of you stood back as Din and Paz began loading the supplies onto the ship. “Your dad is very strong, Grogu,” you tell him as Din lifts a large crate off the bike and into the cargo hold. “Are you going to be strong like him?” Grogu gives you a strong response. This kid has to be a handful, you thought. Grogu stayed gripped onto you, his three little fingers wrapped around your one, gurgling and babbling like he made all the sense in the world. You, of course, humored him, and had a deep conversation about the inflation of credits as the shift from Imperial credits to New Republic credits took place.

Eventually, the men were done, the ship was loaded and refueled. “Alright, Grogu,” you say. “I think your dad will be wanting you back.” You placed a kiss to the top of his odd green head, and attempted to hand him over to the Mando. Grogu had other ideas. His fingers stayed gripped on the back of your t-shirt.

“Grogu,” Din said. “We have to go. Come on.”

You laughed at the little baby, amazed at how he’d become so attached to you in such little time. “Go on, hon,” you coax. “Your uncle and I will be back soon, I promise.” His big, dark eyes looked up at you, and then he allowed you to pass his little body to his father, who fastened him into the carrier.

“Safe travels, you two,” Mando said, and attached the bike Paz rode to his own, and him and Grogu were off.

Finally, you were able to give Paz a hug. “Ready, kebiin’ika?” he asked.

“Yeah. Let me call Leia before we go,” you say. “I forgot to this morning.”

“Ok, I’ll be waiting in the cockpit whenever you’re ready.” He turned around and disappeared onto the ship.

You held the holoprojector in front of you, anxious. Surely Leia would want to see you, right? After all your time together…

You sat the projector on a rock and sat down in front of it. You punched in the numbers Leia had sent you a while ago, and waited. Finally, a young girl answered. “May I ask who is calling?” You told her your name. “And who are you calling for?”

“Leia,” you said, and then cringed. “Uh, her royal highness.” You’d never really grasped the royal protocol.

The girl looked closely. “Is the princess expecting you?”

“Uh, not really,” you said. “But we fought in the Rebellion together. She gave me this number, told me to call if I needed her.”

The girl nodded, and walked out of frame. Hopefully, she’d return with Leia. She did return, but no princess in sight. “Her royal highness will meet with you shortly.” And then she was gone again.

You sat looking around at the trees, taking in your last minutes on a planet for some time. And even when you got to Hosnian Prime, it would be way different. Hosnian Prime was busy, unlike Dantooine and Yavin IV.

“Finally!” said a voice. Leia’s. She stood in holo form on the rock, an elegant white dress covered her form and her hair was in two braids down her shoulders. “I’ve been wondering when I’d hear from you.”

“Leia!” you exclaimed. “I’ve wanted to call, but you know how I felt when the war was won…I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me.”

She frowned. “Oh, stop that,” she said. “I’ll always want to hear from you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get on the line, Korrie is quite protective of me.”

“I understand,” you smiled. “You are a very important person, your royal highness.”

Leia laughed. “Now, what did I tell you back on Alderaan about formal titles?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a normal person when you’re with me,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I take it you’re a bit exhausted with decorum at the moment?”

She nodded. “And it doesn’t help that Threepio is the decorum police, either.” The two of you shared a laugh at the droid’s expense. You didn’t know how Leia could stand C-3PO all the time. “Enough with my complaining, are you ok? Is there something you need?”

“Well, I was calling to see if you’d receive me on Hosnian?” you asked. “I want to catch up with you, maybe even a few friends from the old days?”

Leia smiled. “Of course I’ll receive you! When are you leaving? And where from?”

“Yavin IV,” you say. “And hopefully as soon as I hang up with you, if that’s ok?”

She nodded. “That’d be great. I’ll have Korrie send you the coordinates. I can’t wait to see you!” Leia had a way of making anyone feel comfortable, and you couldn’t wait to be in her full presence again. You exchanged goodbyes, and Leia disappeared from the rock.

Back on the ship, you grabbed a fruit bar from the kitchen and sat in the cockpit. “How was your princess?” Paz asked as he copied the coordinates from your holopad.

“Good,” you replied. “I had no reason to be anxious, really.”

Paz put a gloved hand over yours on the armrest. “I’m glad it’s working out, mesh’la.”

“What’s that word mean? You’ve been calling me that all day.”

His thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand. “It means ‘beautiful’,” he says.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat. “It’s a beautiful word, no wonder it means beautiful.” Paz chuckled a little at your awe.

His hand left yours and landed on the controls. “Ready to head out?” You nodded, mouth too full to properly respond, and the take off sequence was activated. The ship rose out of the clearing, and you watched as Yavin IV grew smaller beneath you. You saw a building off in the distance, it looked half underground, with a large hangar at the front.

“Is that your home?” you ask, pointing out at the structure.

Paz nodded. “Indeed it is,” he says.

“That was part of the Rebel base once,” you say, remembering your time here. “I didn’t spend too much time on that part, though. There was a main hangar a little farther down, but after the war Leia had a lot of it removed, so the wildlife could return to normal,” you say. “Guess not all of it was taken.”

The ship finally reached the atmosphere and Paz guided the ship through it with grace. The jump to hyperspace was made, and the ship was on autopilot for the next three days.

Paz turned to you in his chair. “We live in a rebel base now?”

“Indeed you do,” you say. “I think a lot of that building was quarters for officers and stuff. I’ll bet Leia can tell you when we arrive.”

“You want me to come with you to meet her?”

You looked at him, a little confused. “Of course I do,” you tell him. “I don’t know how long I’ll be there and I’m sure that a princess has room to spare. Besides, it’ll do you some good to sleep on a proper bed for a few nights.”

“Are you sure, kebiin’ika? Mandalorians aren’t greeted too kindly.”

“Maybe not in the Outer Rim,” you say. “But that far into the Core? And a guest of Princess Leia’s? I’m sure it'll be ok.”

He nodded. “Ok, then. I’ll come with you.” You smiled at him, wishing so badly to smile at his face and not his helmet. You took his hand in yours, stood up, and led him to the little common area. There was a small sofa pushed against one of the walls, and you motioned for him to sit.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, and retreat back to the cockpit. When you return, Paz is sat on the sofa, still as can be. It was still a little creepy, how he could just sit there. You held up your holopad. “First thing to know about dating me is I need designated snuggle and holodrama time.”

He laughed. “Is this a common thing or just a kebiin’ika thing?”

You sat down next to him, a little confused that he was wondering if cuddling and watching holos was common. “Am I your first girlfriend, Paz?”

“If I say yes will you think I’m weird?”

“No, I won’t think you’re weird.”

“Then yes,” he said. You looked at him, feeling a wave of sadness. Had this man been cuddled ever? Hugged? Loved? You cared for him so much already, and you wanted him to feel those things.

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s a me thing, but it’s an important thing,” you laugh, setting the holopad up to project against the blank wall of the ship. A show about a Jedi and a Twi’lek healer’s unrequited love played on the wall, a slight silver hue brought by the metal of the ship. You moved to cuddle against him, but the armor was stubborn.

“Could you, like, take some of this off?” You say, gesturing at the metal.

He feigned surprise. “You haven’t even taken me out, mesh’la, and you expect me to strip?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just lose some of it so I can cuddle you.” He obeyed, the cuirass and pauldrons going first, and then the gauntlets and gloves. He was left in his fly suit, made of a coarse weave fabric. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it would do. You moved his arm around you as you settled into his chest. You could tell he wasn’t too sure what to do. “You’re warm,” you sigh.

“Sorry, mesh’la,” he says.

“Why are you sorry? It’s nice. Hyperspace gets cold,” you tell him. He was a little tense at first, he wasn’t used to this, he really hadn’t been properly cuddled since before he lost his buire so long ago.

Paz looked down at you, your head resting against him as you took in the predictable plot of the show. You were relaxed, almost like earlier that morning when he’d woken up. The mask had been gone, and your eyes had gently fluttered in your sleep. Paz felt a tightness in his chest, a feeling he’d been having a lot since you’ve been around. It’s gotten more and more intense, especially as you curled yourself into him. Your touch was burning into his skin in an amazing way, and he knew he’d be able to feel it long after you’d get up. He repeated your it’s nice in his head. No one had ever told him that touching him was nice. In fact, most people hated the touch of a Mandalorian. If they even lived to hate it.

As the drama went to an ad for some kind of Bantha milk, Paz felt you move to look up at him. “Paz?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you can’t tell me what your Mando friend looks like under his helmet,” you say. “But can you tell me how he fits his ears in the helmet?”

Paz laughed. “What?”

“Well, if his ears are anything like his son’s, I’d imagine it’s hard.”

He threw his head back in a bellow of laughter. “Mesh’la, my friend and his son aren’t the same species. Grogu is a foundling.”

“A foundling?”

He finally recovered from his laughter, and his breath steadied. “Yeah, Mandalorians take in children who’ve lost their parents. My friend was a foundling once, and his son is a foundling.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well that explains the ears, I guess. You weren’t a foundling were you?” You remembered him saying something about Vizslas being important on Mandalore.

He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “The Vizsla line goes as far back into Mandalorian history as I can trace. But most importantly, Tarre Vizsla, who was a Jedi, created the Darksaber. Whoever wields the dark saber is the Mand’alor, our ruler.”

“Who is the Mand’alor now?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “There isn’t one. Mandalore isn’t the same as it was, it hasn’t been in a very long time. Before I was born, even.”

“Well, you’re a Vizsla aren’t you? Shouldn’t you wield it?”

He laughs a little. “That’s not exactly how it works, mesh’la. Well, it worked like that for a while, but now you must win the saber in combat. Except no one knows where the saber is.” His voice had gotten sad, and he was running his right hand over his left while they sat on your back, some kind of self-soothing. “Besides,” he says, “There’s a lot of Vizslas out there I’m sure, and I don’t want to be a king. That is not the path that I follow.”

“I understand. It all becomes...a bit much,” you agree. Leia had offered you multiple positions on multiple committees in the new Senate, all dealing with labor laws and droids with a bunch of political nonsense you didn’t care to wade through. Not to mention having to represent the voice of mechanics all over the galaxy. No. Too much stress.

“Kebiin’ika,” Paz says. “As much as I like this old, lumpy sofa, don’t you think we’d be more comfy laying in bed?”

“I’m starting to think you’re a mind reader, Vizsla,” you say. The two of you awkwardly untangle in a mess of limbs and beskar clangs as you accidentally collide with his cuirass that lay on the floor. “Sorry,” you say, moving his armor up onto the sofa and off of the floor.

“Don’t be,” he reassured. “Beskar is practically invincible.”

The two of you made it into the bedroom, you set your holopad up properly to project onto the blank white wall ahead of the bed, there for this reason exactly. The show was brighter now, and clearer. It was technically late afternoon by Yavin IV time, but in hyperspace it was hard to tell. Paz got rid of the armor on his lower body, the codpiece, thighs and knees, and shins. He also kicked off his boots.

He looked so beautifully mundane. Doing something that he’d done a million times at this point, probably, and he was an expert. Could do with his eyes closed. And you loved it, you wondered if his brow furrowed under the helmet when he had to prod a clasp a little harder, or if he let out a soft huff when a piece was finally removed.

He climbed onto the bed and motioned for you to sit between his legs. Kriff, his legs were big.

You settled between his legs, back against his chest. His hands sat awkwardly on his thighs. “You know you can touch me, right?” you say, moving his hands to lay around your middle.

“I have to remind myself, mesh’la,” he says. “You’re not a quick fuck. You’re someone I want to be slow with, I’m just not sure how to go about it.” You were a bit surprised at how blunt he was, but honestly? You appreciated it. He wouldn’t be playing games with you.

You squeezed his hand. “We will go however slow as you want, alright? And don’t be afraid of me, ok? You can ask me anything.”

“I know, cyare, and I’m grateful for that,” he says softly. He wanted to kiss the top of your head so bad. He’d seen it in holos before, but never really understood the appeal until now.

At some point, you’d fallen asleep in the Mandalorian’s arms. It wasn’t until an hour later that he woke you up. “Kebiin’ika?” He’s whispering as much as the vocoder will let him. His voice is deep in your ear, and briefly becomes a part of your dream until you finally wake up.

“How long was I out?” You ask, sitting up and stretching your arms out in front of you.

He stood up, stretching his arms, too. “About an hour, I think. I dozed a bit, too.”

“I’m hungry,” you complain. He agrees, and you’re off to the kitchen. You start making sandwiches with a few of the vegetables you knew he’d bought back on Dantooine. You smiled at them, filled with a bit of nostalgia. That greenhouse of Aliria’s was always a peaceful place.

Paz is doing the same, though he’s making two sandwiches. You presume it’s because he’s such a large man, and such a strong man too. When you had relaxed into his chest, he was comfortable, a layer of fat that told you he took care of himself, and underneath you knew were strong, hardened muscles.

“Paz?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to sit with our backs to each other?” you ask. “So we can eat together instead of in shifts?” He nods, finishing up his sandwiches. You grab your plates and make your way to the sofa. He moves his armor back onto the floor a bit clumsily, and has to remind you that beskar is strong. He’s facing to the right, you to the left, backs together.

“You can lean back on me, cyare,” he says, and you smile at the switch of the nickname. It was kind of nice, not knowing which endearment would envelop you when he opened his mouth. You hear a click and hiss, sounds you’d heard the night before, and then the clunk of his helmet on the ship’s floor.

“I forgot to tell you earlier,” he says between bites. “Armorer and Bezza said to tell you hello.”

You remembered who Armorer was, but your brow furrowed, trying to recall where you’d heard the second name. “Bezza is the girl who you bought the journal for, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind my telling her about us. I’m the closest thing she has to family at the moment.”

You smile. “Of course it’s alright, Paz,” you say. “I’d love to meet her. She sounds very sweet.”

Paz felt a wave of joy rush over him. Bezza was very special to him, even more so now. And now you were special to him, too, and he wanted nothing more than for you two to get along. “If I would’ve known I would’ve brought her with me to the ship instead of my friend,” he said. He had to catch himself before saying Din’s name, knowing that Din was very particular about his name. Bezza, on the other hand, was a more modern Mando. “Maybe once I teach you to use that vibroblade, I can teach you how to wield a staff. Then you two could spar.”

“I don’t know, Paz,” you say. “I’m sure you’re a fantastic teacher, but I don’t see myself holding my own against a Mandalorian in combat.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll train you the Mandalorian way. One day, mesh’la, you will hold your own.”

A silence followed, you could hear the crunch of the chips he’d put in his sandwich as he bit.

“Is Bezza your foundling now?”

Paz swallowed his bite. “Maybe if she was younger I’d take her in, but she’s practically an adult. I wouldn’t want to insult her by insinuating she still needs caring for.”

“Everyone needs caring for,” you say, leaning your head back against him. “I’m twenty-six and I need caring for, emotionally anyways. I’m not sure how old you are, but I’m sure you do, too.”

He wasn’t at all shocked that you were twenty-six. He was, however, shocked that his age didn’t ever come up. “I’m forty-three,” he said, hoping that wouldn’t scare you. It didn’t seem to, so he continued. “And I guess you’re right, but still, I can care for her without taking her in.”

“I guess,” you said, and decided to let the topic of Bezza rest for a bit. “Do you think you’ll ever take in a foundling?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’d like to father some kids as well, but also take in foundlings. Not only is it important to the Tribe, but I love kids. That’s why I’m their teacher whenever I’m not out hunting.”

“That’s sweet, Paz,” you tell him. “I’d like a kid, too, I think. Though, it scares me. Making a person inside my body for almost a year.”

“Mandalorians say to train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger,” he says. “I’m sure you can see why. Having children is important, it’s even in the Mandalorian wedding vows: ‘we will raise warriors’.”

You smile up at the ceiling, picturing you and Paz having a wedding. Some weird mix of Mandalorian and Alderaanian culture, exchanging Mandalorian vows. Maybe it was a bit early to be thinking about this, but you didn’t care.

You watched as Paz cleaned the plates from lunch. He volunteered to take your plate, and now he stood at the sink, scrubbing away the residue of the condiments and components of your lunches. Again, he looked so beautifully mundane, gloves gone, revealing his dark skin to you. Through the bubbles of soap you saw small pink scars littering the top of his hands. He scrubbed away with the brush, working diligently. Again you wondered what kind of face he makes when he concentrates. Does he stick his tongue out a little? Bite on the inside of his lip?

You thought back to the wedding you’d put together in your mind. You thought about how after those vows were exchanged you’d get to see the face he makes not only when he concentrates, but when he’s happy or frustrated, too.

He was such a mystery, but also easy to read. It confused you in the best way possible, and all you wanted was to read chapter after chapter of Paz Vizsla until you got to the part where you’d get to see his face, kiss his face, talk to his eyes rather than a visor. Someday, you told yourself. Someday.

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free-pancakes · 4 years

Text

A Fire in the Shadows

LeviHan - Avatar the Last Airbender AU fic

Characters: Levi, Hange, Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Kenny, Zeke, Sasha, Jean, Armin, Kuchel, Porco, Pieck

Summary: Levi, the nephew of a fire nation captain, stumbles upon a ragtag group of 5 known as the Scouts, formidably known for foiling the plans of local fire nation control, living in the forests a few miles north of Ba Sing Se.

Chapter 5: Interconnected Chapter 4: The Fire from the Shadows Chapter 3: Bonds Chapter 2: Trust Chapter 1: The Scouts

(crossposted to ao3)

CH 5: Interconnected

A 10 year-old Hange sat by the edge of the river running right outside her home, listening to the happy quacks of little turtle ducks swimming by. She smiled as she molded the fire in her palm into a small ball of flame, tossing and kicking it back and forth to herself. Erwin walked quietly towards the river, and stared at Hange from afar. He couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized at the finesse of her movements—she was a natural, more adept than even the adult firebenders he knew, at just 10 years old. She was just a kid, but she was skilled beyond her years. He was so proud of her, but admittedly, a little jealous. He looked down at his hands, sad that he wasn’t gifted with the ability to bend an element. He lowered them and shook his head—despite this, the pride he had for his best friend far outweighed any sadness he felt being a non-bender. He’d always stand by her side.

“Hange, I got the stuff you asked for.” He pulled off his backpack and shook its contents onto the grass—a metal funnel, metal clamps, and wax adhesives. Hange’s eyes glowed with fiery excitement as she squealed with joy. “These are perfect!” She gathered the supplies and ran towards the house. “Come on Erwin, race you back to my room!” She sprinted ahead, and Erwin laughed as he ran to catch up with her.

Hange ran into her home, tracking dirt all over the wooden floorboards. “Hange dear, come on, I just mopped the floor!”

She disappeared into her room and yelled, “Sorry, Mom! I got a super-top-secret-urgent project to work on!”

Before she could ask Hange to come back and clean up her mess, she turned around to find Erwin already sweeping up the dirt.

“Oh Erwin, you’re so sweet, you don’t need to do that!” She gently took the broom out of his hand and ruffled his hair. “Go join Hange, don’t worry about it,” she said softly.

“Thanks for having me, Mrs. Zoe,” he politely nodded his head and walked into Hange’s room, closing the door gently behind him. He looked down to find Hange busy producing a tiny fire at the tip of her index finger, welding the metal to the rest of her contraption. Erwin knew better than to talk to her while she was engrossed in conjuring up her newest invention, so he put his backpack down on the floor and sat neatly across from her. He stared up at the wall, at the same picture frames he always looked at whenever he waited for Hange to finish her latest project. The picture was that of a man who resembled Hange’s father, his arm around a young Avatar Roku and a few other people, all of them smiling together.

According to Hange, the bespectacled man in the painting was her great grandfather, a good friend of Roku. Beneath this was a picture of Erwin’s grandparents arm-in-arm with Hange’s grandparents and all of their friends. The picture below that was one from a few years before either Hange or he was born, showing his and Hange’s parents laughing together, and in the center, a beautiful woman with long, black hair and the most gentle eyes. Generations… lifetimes of the most powerful firebenders, yet the most kind people were displayed there before him, and it was almost crazy to think that he and Hange, along with their new friends, Mike and Nanaba, were probably next in line to join that wall—a wall displaying both genuine friendship and deep loyalty to the peaceful and harmonious land the fire nation once was. Erwin smiled as he remembered his father’s words to him one night not too long ago—“Friendships really do transcend lifetimes.”

“Success!” Hange held the contraption in her hand, a mess of metal tubes swirling into a metal funnel at the end. Before he could ask what it was, Hange was dragging him by the hand and climbing out the one window in her room. “Hurry up ya slowpoke! Before my mom or Moblit hears us!”

They ran towards the small barn marking the halfway point between their houses. Hange walked along the edges of the barn to a spot in the dirt marked with a small scarf of hers. “Here! Help me dig, Erwin!” They used their hands to scoop piles of dirt out, deep enough to fit the end of the funnel under and inside the barn.

“Ok! Can you stay right here and listen to me through the pipe? Tell me how clear the sound is.” Hange ran around the corner and into the barn, and began to speak and whisper, alternating between the two. Erwin’s eyes widened in shock at the clarity—even Hange’s whispers were audible through the pipe. “How did she even manage to do this?” he thought to himself. Now they could listen clearly to their parents’ secret meetings, and he was quite excited with their new tool.

“From the look on your face, I take it that the acoustics are perfect, no?” Hange smiled deviously, and Erwin returned it. The two friends happily bumped fists. “Now we can hear about their next mission without taking turns pressing our ears against the wall!”

Ever since she and Erwin stumbled upon a meeting about a year ago, their minds became hyper-fixated on discovering their parents' work and uncovering the secrets behind it all. Since they were probably the two most dangerously curious kids of all the fire nation, it was only natural that they’d figure it all out eventually. They had spent the past year trying to listen to the group meetings in the barn, and learned all about their missions. Ridden with curiosity, the two eventually found years of hidden documents containing information on their families, kept in boxes under faulty floorboards of their homes.

When Avatar Roku mysteriously died nearly 100 years ago, his group of friends awaited their friend’s reincarnation as a child from one of the air temples. But after the fire nation attacks on the airbender monks, they feared the worst. The world began to tip out of balance, and when no avatar seemed to appear in the earth kingdom, they wondered whether the avatar was gone for good. But among Roku’s friends, hope was not lost—they passed down their stories from generation to generation, and as the fire nation grew in power, the Zoe family was the face of those defending from the inside, attempting to do what they could to restore balance. They became the crux of movement within the shadows of the fire nation, thwarting plans of conquering villages and cities of the world, keeping as many citizens and innocent people safe from fire nation soldiers’ violence. Their numbers have dwindled over the years from fighting for their cause, and most of them eventually moved into the earth kingdom colonies to help out the villages more closely, though a few stayed behind in the fire nation to continue retrieving intel from the inside and kept correspondence with any information gleaned.

Hange was quite keen on listening for more every week, confident in her desire to follow in her family’s footsteps. As much as Erwin shared Hange’s excitement, part of him was deeply concerned about Hange’s safety. Out of the families that moved out into the earth kingdom colonies, she was the only firebender in their generation, and he was afraid that she’d have to take on too much responsibility and carry the brunt of the work in order to live up to their families’ names. But they were only kids, right? He waved away his own worries—it’s not like they’d have to join in on this right away. Their parents didn’t even know that we found out about all of this yet.

-------- When the sun just began to set, the two friends snuck their way back to the barn under the calm, orange glow of the sky. They crouched down at the spot where they lodged Hange’s invention through the ground and listened in—but to their disappointment, the adults were simply chatting and enjoying each other’s company. “Booooring,” Hange sighed. “Maybe we should just call it a night, huh Erwin?” As Erwin readied himself to walk Hange home, he overheard the quiet closing of a door and a new voice sound through the pipe. They locked eyes and quickly threw themselves down to press their ears close and listen.

“Kuchel!” Hange’s mother exclaimed, and they heard the soft sound of sniffles and happy cries of the reunion.

“KUCHEL??” Hange exclaimed loudly.

“Who’s Kuchel?”

“My mom’s friend! Her best friend!” Hange clasped her hands together and jumped around in excitement. “Oh I’ve always wanted to meet her, she sounds so nice and—“

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Hange and Erwin spun around to see Hange’s dad staring at the two of them and eyeing their little listening device. “Eavesdropping now, are we? You might have made something where you can hear us loud and clear, but did you consider the possibility that we could hear YOU loud and clear from the other side?” Erwin and Hange nervously laughed at his words—they really did forget to consider that. He bent down to look at Hange’s creation and his facade of playing “bad cop” parent melted away quite quickly, and he turned to his daughter and chuckled. “So how did you make it?” As the two Zoe’s babbled on about the intricacies of Hange’s ideas, Erwin continued to listen into the barn.

“Oh yes, Kenny’s alright, as annoying as ever, telling me we should give up on all this and that my son and I should just move out here with all of you. But how else would we get more intel without me on the inside?”

“But you can move in with us! We can adjust. Our plans can change! Kenny’s right, it’s probably safer for you to stay here. On top of that, I’m sure your son would love to meet Erwin and Hange,” Hange’s mother answered.

“I’m sure he would. He’s very quiet and doesn’t really have any friends. But I have no doubt they’ll all meet someday.” She smiled at the thought of Levi making new friends, but her smile slowly transitioned into a concerned frown. “It might have to wait a year or two, though. I don’t know if I trust Zeke anymore...”

“Well what do you mean by that? Hasn’t Zeke proved himself to us?” Erwin’s father asked.

“I’ve seen him spend some more time with Ozai recently. I can’t put a finger on it... but I think something in him has changed. I think we may be able to trust him for now, but we’ll have to see.”

The doors of the barn slammed open, revealing Hange’s father holding Hange in one arm and Erwin in the other. “I think we found our culprits!”

Mike and Nanaba’s parents burst into laughter, while Hange’s mother and Erwin’s father darted looks of deep disapproval at their children.

Hange’s dad playfully threw the two down into the pile of hay that the horses were working on, who seemed to neigh at them in disapproval. Hange and Erwin lost themselves in a fit of giggles that simply lightened up the room from the bleak conversation about Zeke. The rest of them began to catch up again and reminisce about the “good old days” while Erwin and Hange pet and fed the horses.

A few hours later, Kuchel made her way over to them, and the two suddenly felt shy, falling quiet.

Erwin’s eyes widened in recognition as she sat close to them. “You’re the beautiful lady in the picture,” Erwin accidentally whispered loud enough for Kuchel to hear.

Kuchel laughed, “You’re Erwin, right? You’re the spitting image of your father, and from what I hear, the only person smart and strong enough to keep this one under control right?” she said as she looked over to Hange.

“What, me?” Hange questioned. “Yes, you! Come here, dear,” she waved Hange towards her and gently pulled her glasses off, and wiped them clean with her sleeve, and carefully pushed them back onto Hange’s face. “And you’re the infamous, reckless Hange Zoe, correct?” She laughed, and Hange was simply mesmerized by her kind soul and the loving twinkle in her eyes.

After warming up to each other, Hange soon begged for stories from Kuchel about how all their parents became friends and both she and Erwin eagerly listened. The three of them talked for what felt like hours, until Erwin and Hange could barely keep their eyes open, their sheer curiosity and interest in Kuchel the only thing keeping them awake enough to listen.

“So that’s the sign of you all being undercover firebenders right?” Hange asked sleepily as she pointed to the little charm peeking out from pocket of her skirt. Kuchel was startled by her question, and sighed in defeat. “Well, neither of you should know anything about this until you’re old enough, but it was silly of me to think that you two wouldn’t figure that out by now being the nosy little kids you are,” she said with a small laugh. She pulled out the charm to show them. “When the time is right, we’ll all pass them down to you. It might not be as significant now—it was once used to prove that you were one to be trusted, but now that there’s not too many of us left...” Erwin noticed the hint of sadness that showed in her eyes.

“Well, it‘s still important, something to remember who you are and where you came from. Whenever you look at it, I hope it brings you peace and reminds you that it’s our responsibility to bring back stability and light to our nation, no matter how dark it may become. But who knows, it still might be important in recognizing who is a friend or foe someday. Whoever holds one is someone you can trust—I can promise you both that.”

Hange asked, “Kuchel, will we ever get to meet your son?”

“I have no doubt you will,” she said with a smile. “Hopefully soon. I think you both would be really good influences on him.” With a yawn, Hange asked one more question.

“What’s his name?”

But before they could hear Kuchel’s answer, both of them were fast asleep. Kuchel smiled lovingly at the two. She gently pulled off Hange’s glasses, pocketed them before picking her up. She chuckled at the sound of her snores as Hange’s face leaned against her chest— “Just like her mother,” she thought and suppressed full-on laughter. She then whispered quietly into Hange ear, hoping it would somehow register in her heart, despite her being asleep. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Hange. And.... I can’t wait for you meet Levi someday. Don’t let his little scowl fool you—he has a good heart.” Kuchel beckoned Hange’s mother over to pick up Erwin. “Come on, let’s go put these two to bed.”

-------- Levi could not believe Erwin’s story. But... there was no denying the description of his own mother.

He remembered the day before his mother died, and her words that morning echoed in his mind, “Levi, did you know that some friendships are strong enough to transcend lifetimes?” He wondered if that applied here—an explanation as to why his bond with Hange ran so deep, and why he felt like he’d known Erwin, Moblit, Mike, and Nanaba for much longer than he actually did.

They had been interconnected this whole time. As much as it frustrated him that knowing this would have made their meeting 3 years ago much easier, he felt a wave of happiness fall over him, and he was absolutely overwhelmed from head to toe.

“So, you’re Kuchel’s son.” Erwin remembered her kind eyes and gentle voice, and began to laugh.

“Oi, what the hell are you laughing on about?”

Erwin continued to laugh and started to wipe tears from his eyes. “I was just thinking about how you’re just...well let’s just say I never thought Kuchel’s son would turn out to be such a small, angry man.” He laughed, along with Nanaba and Mike. Levi grumbled but couldn’t help but let out a tiny smile.

After their laughter died down, Levi let the information sink in a little along with the situation at hand. “I didn’t know you met her...” he sighed. It seems there was a lot he didn’t know, and he wished he could turn back time and ask his mother everything.

Mike asked, “What did happen to your mom anyway? I know you said she was gone but...”

“She died after she saved a child from a house fire. My uncle and I were gone training for a weekend. I was only 12 at the time,” Levi said as he stared down at the ground.

“Since you and Hange are the same age... that must mean she died around the same Zeke betrayed everyone and had fire nation soldiers kill our parents,” Nanaba said quietly.

Each of them held their parents’ charms tightly in their hands. All was silent except for the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze and the crackle of logs from their campfire. Dusk quickly fell upon them, the glow of the moon peeking through the light cloud cover.

Erwin’s eyes softened as he looked at Levi. “Well, we got some work to do, don’t we? Hange and Moblit are in trouble—I can only imagine what Zeke wants to do with them.”

Levi looked up at Erwin, noticing a minuscule flicker of worry in his eyes. “My bet... is using an Agni Kai versus Hange as public display to destroy anymore hopes of internal rebellion.”

The other three furrowed their eyebrows at this, gritting their teeth in anger.

“And... killing the last firebending Zoe would be the ultimate symbol of crushing any hope that may be left.”

Levi stood up and looked out into the horizon, in the direction Zeke and Kenny escaped the night before. He had a good idea of where they might be, but the exact coordinates of that base was kept hidden from everyone except for high ranking officials. However, knowing Hange, he had utmost confidence that she marked a way for them to find her. They'd just have to figure that out—and soon.

Levi balled his hands into tight fists and fierce determination flickered in his eyes.

“Well, we’re not gonna let her face Zeke alone, are we?” he whispered, not taking his eyes off the horizon.

--------

As Hange’s screams grew silent, Armin breathed a sad sigh of relief—either they stopped torturing her or she finally just passed out from the pain. Either way, she at least had some respite. He looked at the thick wooden bars of their cell, cross hatched like a solid net, trapping them inside. He could only assume that at least one guard was standing watch outside the metal door about 8 feet away from their cell—the only exit point in the room. How in the world were they supposed to get out of this mess? And more importantly, why were they targeting Hange? Where were the rest of the Scouts, anyway?

He turned back towards Moblit, “Hey so... what happened? How did you get captured?”

Moblit used his sleeves to wipe at his tears, revealing his swollen eyes, filled with a terrifying swirl of anger and hopelessness. “They ambushed us, Zeke and Kenny. They set everything on fire and we didn’t stand a chance—and they told us...” He looked down, tangling his fingers in his hair anxiously, like he was trying to pry the memories out from his mind.

“Told you what?”

“That Levi led them to us, and...that he was a firebender and... that he’s Kenny’s nephew.”

Sasha and Armin’s jaws dropped at the news, and Jean looked away, as he knew Levi’s secret. He wrestled with the possibility that he might have made a mistake in trusting him. “No... there’s no way I made the wrong call,” he thought.

“I’m not sure if I believe it, though. Hange was very adamant that we should trust Levi.” Happy memories of his relationship with Levi came rushing relentlessly into his head. “No, I don’t think we should stop trusting Levi.” He paused. “After that, the next thing I knew, I woke up restrained on the komodo rhino, and then saw all of you.”

“Moblit, why did they only take you, and no one else?” Sasha asked.

“Well Hange and Levi were in Ba Sing Se that night. And I think they were just using me as bait.”

“But why not any of the others, why just you?” Armin asked. “It doesn’t make any sense. Couldn’t they have just taken Erwin since he leads the Scouts?”

Moblit sighed. “I guess I better just fess up and explain everything, right? All of this would be easier if we were just on the same page.”

He fished a small, metal keychain from his pocket, a fire nation emblem etched into it, matching the one stitched into the red tapestry behind him. He held it up for them to see.

--------

A dull pain ached against the left side of Hange’s face, the skin around her eye throbbing alongside her steady heartbeat. She felt a warm hand pressing a dressing over her left eye, and saw strands of black hair hanging over her. She blinked her right eye, confused as to why she wasn’t still in the barn back home, laying in the hay next to Erwin and Kuchel.

“K-Kuchel?” Hange croaked.

She was answered with a soft whisper, “No, I’m sorry, I’m not Kuchel. My name is Pieck.”

“Oh…” Hange sighed, wishing she could return to dreamland, back to her old, yet comforting memories.

A harsh, gruff voice sounded from the dark corner of the room, “Kuchel’s been long gone, dearie.” From the shadows, Kenny stepped out into the light next to Pieck. “My dumb sister died saving some stupid kid a long time ago.” He peered down at Hange and scoffed. “Didn’t think she’d go that way, to be honest. I thought she’d at least have gone doing the pathetic work your parents and her other friends got into.”

“…Sister?”

“Yeah, my dumb old sister. What, the genius Hange Zoe hadn’t figure it out yet?”

“Sister… then… you’re Levi’s uncle??”

He let out a chilling laugh and began clapping—pathetic applause at her realization. Kenny stepped closer and bent down, staring right into Hange’s face. “Zeke told Porco to do much worse than what he ended up doing to you. You’re lucky I happened to walk in and stop him—what kind of self-respecting uncle would let his wonderful nephew’s girlfriend suffer right in front of him?”

Hange felt her brain short-circuit at his comment. “Oh I know how my nephew works, I saw how he looked at you after your cute little group took down that fire nation camp in the forest. All of you trying to be like your parents—their work was pathetic and so are you.”

Hange tried to make sense of everything and it was difficult to concentrate against the throbbing pain in her eye, but she quickly focused on the situation at hand—no need to show him weakness at anything he decided to say to her. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, though his tone seemed genuine underneath the rough exterior. She laughed to herself--she knew how to read and communicate with Ackermans.

“Their work wasn’t stupid, you pathetic old man,” Hange retorted.

Kenny laughed. “I told my sister not to get into that business. World’s gone to shit anyway, why not just live for yourself at this point?”

Hange began seething at this response. The only reason why she didn’t burst out flames at Kenny was because she was completely disoriented to her surroundings. Sadly, she figured she’d kiss her left-sided vision goodbye. Plus, she didn’t want to injure the girl next to her, as she was clearly very kind, tending to enemy’s wounds. “Maybe if you actually joined your sister back then, you could have helped them!”

“Well maybe if they all just gave that up, none of them wouldn’t have died and left you all as orphans. Have you ever thought of that?”

She stared back at him and spat as she spoke, “Well if you’re arrogant ass is ‘living for himself’ then why the hell do you care about that, and why would you decide to lay your loyalty to Zeke?” Kenny stepped away to make sure no one was within hearing range in the corridor. He walked quickly back towards Hange and leaned down close to her face.

“Listen here, little girl. My loyalty is to no one but myself. Zeke is simply offering the best deal I’ve gotten over last few years—we’re protected among his crew, plus the money’s good. And don’t get all disrespectful now, you’re lucky I didn’t let Porco take out that other eye of yours!”

“Or maybe you did it to keep Levi safe too, you DO care about him don’t you?” Hange teased.

Kenny scowled and grumbled at her comment—Hange stifled laughter as she now knew where Levi got it from.

“You’re delusional, Zoe. You’re just like your parents.” He turned around and slammed the door behind him—the metal reverberating around the walls of the room, the force causing her sensitive eye to throb again. Hange winced in pain.

Pieck held a cold compress to Hange’s face, and she sighed in relief. “Thank you,” Hange breathed out.

“Of course.”

Hange looked curiously at Pieck—“So, why are you helping me, anyway?”

Pieck answered softly, “Hange, I know what Zeke wants to do with you. But I don’t want him to go through with it.”

Hange held back the fear in her heart. She abandoned her curiosity at Zeke's plans with herself for a second--she needed to clear up other information with Pieck first.

“Why?”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids, and… I think he’s truly lost himself. This isn’t him, and it hasn’t been him in a long time. A lot has happened, Hange, and I think you’re just unfortunately stuck in the midst of it." She peeked out the doorway for any listening ears, and sat back down, whispering to Hange.

"There are guards everywhere though, and I can’t just let you out, plus your friends are still trapped somewhere in the building, and I don’t know exactly where. All I know, is that we have a decent amount of time before Zeke returns. In the meantime, rest.”

Hange breathed a sigh of relief—she was ridiculously lucky, she thought. Her mind scrambled to put together all the information she’s gathered and started on mustering up a plan to get everyone out of here safely. But one thing was really bothering her—was being friends with Zeke enough for this girl to help her, a Zoe, a target of the fire nation? There had to be something else--could it be?

“Pieck, can I ask you one more thing?”

She nodded, inviting her to continue.

Hange nodded back, “Is there any more reason why you’re trying to help me?”

Pieck smiled—Hange was just as sharp as the rumors told. She reached into her pocket and held out a luck charm, identical to everyone else’s, the fire nation emblem shining brightly back at Hange. Hange closed her eye and laughed, feeling nothing but hope and happiness. She wondered if Levi felt the same way at this same moment--after all the events of the past few hours, she thought it'd be quite likely that Levi, Erwin, Nanaba, and Mike were likely revealing their charms to each other right around now. It was about time.

#i apologize in advance for how boring this chapter is #a lot of this is just self service lmfao #does it move the plot?#maybe?#is it mildly interesting?#possibly?#how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?#the world may never know #levihan #levihan fanfic #hange zoe #levi ackerman #hanji zoe #snk #aot

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ptersparkers · 4 years

Text

her brother’s girlfriend

summary: sarah cameron happens to be in love with her brother’s girlfriend.

warnings: none, i think? and typos, probably.

notes: someone requested this and i was like.....ok yes this is a very interesting concept! i’m also really glad you guys want more sarah content because i love her. also in my head the pogues are 17-18 because i cANNOT deal with 15 year olds being as ripped as rudy and chase bye

i’m aware sarah’s mom being this nice is not canon but it is in my universe ok

add yourself to my taglist!

Sarah Cameron was laying on her stomach with her phone in her hand when she heard your laugh from the hallway outside of her room. She spent the morning trying to combat the heat of the North Carolina sun and found a spot in her room situated in front of her window on the second floor that provided a draft of wind. She let her eyes close for a brief second, enjoying the spot with her arm propped up against the cold side of the newly turned pillow.

She heard your voice from outside of her door in the long hallway. Your laugh had echoed through her mind and she snapped her eyes open, her head looking at the white door that was the only barrier between you and her. She could hear her brother’s voice accompanied by an equally loud laugh and Sarah couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the thought of her brother being the one to make you laugh.

There was a knock on your door that pulled Sarah out of her thoughts.

“Come in,” she said awkwardly, quickly turning her phone on to look busy. You opened the door and she looked at you and saw tan lines and a bathing suit that made her mouth water.

“Hi,” you said softly, smiling at her. You had one hand on her doorknob and had stepped in only far enough to peek inside her bedroom. “Do you have that shirt I gave you last week?” Sarah snapped out of her thoughts

“Oh, yeah! I washed it last night, hope you don’t mind. I know you said it didn’t matter but Kie pushed me into the river,” Sarah said, fetching the black shirt that had been fitting perfectly folded on her nightstand. She handed it to you and you tilted your head, keeping that grin on your face.

“You’re an angel,” you said dramatically. “Well I hope Kiara pushing you into the river was worth it.”

Sarah laughed shyly. “We were just messing around and she pushed me a little too hard. I think someone has a video of it.”

“You’ll have to send it to me,” you said. There was a brief pause when you heard Rafe calling your name. “Anyway, I’ll probably be swinging by later tonight for dinner. Your mom invited me this morning and she said something about salmon?”

“She’s excited about cooking the salmon she got off of the mainland,” Sarah explained. She leaned on the wall next to you and crossed her arms lazily across her chest. “I think she bought a little too much but I’m happy that you’re coming over.”

“Babe?” Sarah heard Rafe call from out of her bedroom. You had turned around and nodded towards him.

“I’ll see you later,” Sarah said, her lips forming a thin line. You winked and bade her a goodbye and Sarah closed her door, sighing in frustration.

Her infatuation with you started when you had come home from college last summer. It was your first year gone and she hadn’t paid much attention to you from various parties on Figure Eight and around the island until she had seen you in her living room, sitting on the living room couch on the seat closest to the front door. You had stood up and offered your hand for her to shake, introducing yourself as Rafe’s girlfriend. It was odd that she had never heard of you before nor had she ever seen you, but her thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt when Rafe had sauntered downstairs and pressed a kiss to your lips.

It turns out you were a Kook but had never bothered to attend events thrown by the rich families until you had dated Rafe. She began to see you more often and had taken up a liking to striking up a conversation with you whenever Rafe wasn’t by your side. You had the best sense of humor and fashion sense, she decided. You didn’t give a shit about your status on some small island that you’d eventually leave and Sarah decided she’d be the same way. She accredits your personality rubbing off on her for being more open to becoming friends with Kiara again, and subsequently, the Pogues.

When she asked you about your opinions on The Cut and everyone who lived there, all you did was shrug. At this time, she had been dating Topper for a few months and her opinions were clouded by his constant degrading comments about the people who lived on The Cut and she felt as if she couldn’t express a differing opinion without hearing the end of it.

“I don’t care about titles,” you said, taking a sip of the drink you were fostering. “People are people and they never asked to be born with or without something they can’t control.”

“But you’re a Kook,” Sarah retorted.

“I guess,” you said. “But I never bothered to come to these things before dating Rafe.”

That much, Sarah knew, was true. She also had you to thank when it came to Rafe’s relationship with her friends; you had chewed him out in front of John B. and JJ when he had made a degrading comment about the Pogue lifestyle and didn’t care that you were speaking your mind to your boyfriend. All Sarah could remember was Rafe’s dumbfounded face and his silent nod, looking between the Pogues and you before walking away as you had raised your eyebrow, challenging him to change your mind.

Sarah could also remember JJ’s slow clap when you had followed Rafe out of The Cut and John B’s starry eyes. It was no secret that both boys had grown a small infatuation with a Kook Princess who had a mouth on her and used it for good. Ever since that afternoon, Rafe hadn’t dared say anything to the Pogues when he was on The Cut.

That was the first time Sarah had felt a strange feeling in the bottom of her stomach. It was realizing that you didn’t just control Rafe, but you were able to get through to him and make him listen to your voice.

And Sarah swore that she’d grow to have a spine like you did.

When the sky grew dark, Sarah heard your car park in front of her house and saw dressed in a linen blouse with a few buttons popped open, black slacks, and comfortable oxfords. You looked more mature than the Kooks on the island and her heart was racing, beating against her chest. Before Sarah walked downstairs, she had slipped on a pair of white sneakers and buttoned her plaid tapered pants, looking in the mirror as she put on a second coat of lip gloss.

As she walked out the door, she groaned in frustration and closed it, looking at herself with dissatisfaction. The baby yellow shirt she wore didn’t make her happy with her outfit and she wanted to change it in hopes of impressing you with her fashion sense. Sarah pulled out a large white button down and settled for that, mimicking your outfit but popping open two buttons and tucking it into her pants.

“Ward couldn’t be here tonight,” her mother said when Sarah made her downstairs. “He says hello.”

“That’s okay,” you said with a smile. “I know I’ll see him some time soon.” You saw Sarah standing her mother and motioned for her to come closer to which she followed. Sarah fixed her hair anxiously and stood beside the older woman, waving at you.

“Hey,” you said coolly. “Long time no see.” She could hear you teasing her in your voice.

“I’ve been bored since you left,” she said, scrunching her nose.

“Why don’t you two hang out for a bit? Rafe called me earlier and said he’d be a little late because he has a flat tire.”

“I hope he’s okay,” Sarah said sympathetically.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” her mother said, waving her off. “Anyway, I’m going to go back to the kitchen and finish preparing dinner. Why don’t you two go up to Sarah’s room and hang out for a bit? I’ll call you down when the food’s ready.”

You nodded and said your thanks and Sarah led you to her room, trying to keep the blush on her cheeks from surfacing. Her room was much tidier now; she had taken the liberty to clean it up after you left when she realized she had a pile of dirty clothing in the corner of her room and some books sprawled out across her floor. They were all in their place now. Sarah made sure to fix her bed just in case you were in her room again and she thanked herself for not being lazy earlier.

“Your room’s so cute,” you said, looking at the pictures on her wall and nightstand. “It’s so...you.”

“Thanks,” she said, sitting awkwardly on the edge of her bed, not knowing what to do other than stare at you while you looked around her room. “I try to make this space feel like home as much as possible.”

“That’s how I feel,” you said. “I have a dorm back in college and I brought some stuff that reminded me of the island. I didn’t want to feel like I was sleeping in a stranger’s bed.”

“I thought your parents wanted you to stay in an apartment,” Sarah said, turning her head.

You laughed. “Nah, I wanted the college experience. My roommate was a girl named Alex. Cool chick. She moved from South Korea halfway through high school and decided to stay in America for college.”

“College sounds much better than this.”

“It is,” you said without a beat. “I like the independence and the freedom to study what I want to study. The college parties are great but I think it’s a little too much for me.”

“You don’t go?”

You shook your head. “Not really. I’m more of a wine and dine type of girl.”

“Sometimes I feel like I only go to parties because all of my friends are,” Sarah confessed. You stopped sifting through her clothing and looked at her.

“You don’t have that many opportunities here,” you said. “I mean, I never really went to parties anyway but I realized that when I left for college. Do what you want, Sarah. Sit at home and eat some popcorn or go out and get drunk. As long as it makes you happy.”

Sarah sat there, dumbfounded as you resumed looking at her closet. She hadn’t thought about how her voice was suppressed by Topper, her parents, Rafe, and the other Pogues. Sarah felt as if she had tried so hard being two different people when she was with the Pogues or the Kooks and, if she was admitting it, Sarah was getting tired of pleasing two different groups of people.

“You have cute clothes,” you said, pulling out a blouse to look at. “I’d raid your closet if you let me.”

“You can,” Sarah said too quickly. “Borrow clothes, I mean.”

“I mean, it’s only fair if I let you borrow my clothes.”

Sarah laughed. “Oh! I forgot, Kie texted me the video of when I fell into the river.”

You put the hanger back in her closet and sat next to Sarah while she looked for her message chain with Kiara. She turned up her volume and played the video. While you were watching at the small screen, Sarah couldn’t help but be hyper aware about your thigh pressed against hers and your hair tickling the side of her face. Sarah had cursed herself silently, remembering that she hadn’t done much to her hair other than wash and dry it.

“That was hilarious,” you said with a laugh. “But yeah, maybe it was a good thing that you washed my shirt.”

“I don’t know what to do with my hair,” Sarah said abruptly, suddenly a little self conscious about her appearance. “I always wear it down or in a ponytail.”

You stood up and Sarah’s eyes followed you. You walked to her makeup desk with a large mirror and sifted through her products, taking a few items and bringing it to her bed.

“I like this spray,” you said, praying the liquid onto her roots. “It’s good for beach waves and to contain frizz. You just need a little bit.” If Sarah was being honest, she enjoyed your fingers playing and tugging on her hair. “You could just, um,” you said, not knowing how to explain it. You ran your fingers through her hair just enough to push it all to the back and so that the front of her hair was voluminous and elegant. You grabbed her yellow hand held mirror and gave it to her.

“I look like you,” Sarah said with a small smile.

“I also like to put my hair half up and half down or in a bun with a few strands framing my face. But it’s all about decorating your hair with clips if you’re lazy.”

“I’m always lazy.”

You looked at Sarah with a smile and she swore that moment had lasted for a lifetime. It wasn’t until her mother knocked on your door and opened it that pulled her out of her thoughts and brought her back to reality.

“Food’s ready! Sarah, you look gorgeous,” she said, taking note of her hair that had changed since the last time she saw her mother.

“Thanks, mom,” she said sheepishly. “Give us a second to clean up and we’ll be downstairs.”

Sarah moved hastily and tried not to trip over her own two feet when she put the hair products back in their place. She could feel you watching her and chose not to meet your gaze when she walked past you to head downstairs.

Her dining room was split into two - the room with a large table that was always decorated minimally and a smaller table meant for intimate moments, like this one. There were four plates set on the table and you sat in front of her mother. Sarah had to consciously make the choice to sit next to her mom, forgetting that Rafe was coming over until she saw the fourth plate.

“This looks great, Mrs. Cameron,” you said as she began to serve you a piece of the salmon. “It smells fantastic.”

“I know your mother loves to cook and I’ve gotten a few tips over the years. I have her to thank, really.”

As the conversation between you and her mother continued, Sarah couldn’t help but think how you were the perfect girl to bring home. Her mother loved you and begged for Rafe to bring you over more often when you were home from college. Her father thought you were a model girlfriend, though Sarah was sure you played the tamer version of yourself around him. You were everything she could’ve asked for and she couldn’t help but feel happy at the thought of you staying in her life for the long run.

“I’m home,” Sarah heard Rafe say as he approached the table. She watched as you turned around and smiled while Rafe leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek. She shifted in her seat awkwardly and felt a burst of jealousy within her. Sarah tried not to think about you for the rest of the dinner but that was hard to do whenever she saw Rafe kiss the back of your hand.

It was going to be a long night.

***

“Yo, Cameron,” JJ yelled as Sarah turned around. She was in the midst of grabbing a water bottle when she heard the blond call her name. “How’s Y/N doing?”

“Fine,” she called back, walking back to the group. “She’s going back to school next week so she’s spending time with Rafe before going back.”

“Haven’t seen her in a while,” JJ replied. “Actually since summer when she talked Rafe’s ear off.” Sarah smiled at the memory.

“They spent the weekend together and they’re coming back this afternoon, I think.”

“Spending the weekend together, huh?” JJ asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. Sarah gagged internally, trying not to think about you and Rafe intimately. Instead, Sarah made a disgusted expression to which JJ laughed.

“Are we talking about Y/N?” John B. asked when he climbed onto the boat.

“She’s going back to school next week,” Sarah explained once again.

“Dang, wish we could hang out again but I guess I wouldn’t want to be caught with high schoolers if I’m in college.”

Sarah knew John B. didn’t mean anything bad by his comment, but she felt insecure. Did you hang out with her because you were Rafe’s little sister? Did you pity her for hanging out with the Pogues, who were around Sarah’s age?

“Where are Pope and Kie?” Sarah asked.

“Bringing food from her house,” John B. explained. “They’ll be here in twenty.”

“God, I’m starving.”

“Isn’t that Y/N?” JJ asked, pointing afar. Sarah turned and took off her sunglasses and put in on her head, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to identify you. But it didn’t take that much effort. She’d recognize you anywhere. Sarah pulled her phone from her back pocket and texted you to come say hello, hoping you’d hear her silent plea. The trio watched as you checked your phone and stopped abruptly, changing your direction and walking towards the boat.

“I can’t believe she’s actually coming here,” JJ said, laughing to himself. He sat with his hands behind his head.

“You act like she’s some celebrity,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes.

“She kinda is. No one bats and eye when she walks The Cut or Figure Eight,” JJ said, shrugging. “Plus, John B. gets flustered whenever she’s around and that never happens.”

Sarah didn’t have time to process what JJ had said because you approached the docked boat, standing on the wooden floor. Sarah looked at you - you wore an orange bikini that highlighted your tan nicely and carried a towel. She did a double take behind her sunglasses, looking at your extremely short shorts and gulped when you looked at her.

“Mind if I join?”

“N-Not at all,” she said, stepping aside for you to climb in.

Sarah could see John B’s cheeks turn a shade of pink when you winked at both boys who were sitting next to one another. JJ sat up straighter and John B. stood up, offering you a bottle of water or some sunscreen that he had remembered to bring. She watched as you turned around to place your towel on the boat and as the two teenage boys watched as your shorts rode up your thighs, leaving their mouthes slightly ajar. She rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath.

“Sarah, come sit next to me,” you said, pulling her out of her daydreams. The towel was big enough for two people to sit on and she tried not to stutter and trip over herself. “So tell me, boys, what have you been up to since the last time I saw you?”

“Oh, you know,” said JJ, “just messing around and trying not to fight your boyfriend.”

“He hasn’t been bothering us,” John B. cut in, shoving JJ.

“Good,” you said, leaning back on your elbows.

“I guess nothing’s been that exciting around here,” said John B. “Just trying to pass time before summer comes.”

“I can’t wait to relax again,” you said, sighing. “Midterms kicked my ass and spring break is almost over, so it’s back to stressing out again.”

“Look at you, college girl,” JJ teased.

If there was one thing Sarah loved about you, it was your ability to read people past first impressions. JJ had always been an interesting case for you because you could tell he was a rambunctious soul that cared deeply for his friends and used humor as a coping mechanism. You didn’t know what that was, nor did you try to pry, but there was always an unspoken support you had for JJ. You had confided in Sarah once in the previous year about if JJ was okay and had asked her all these questions that, if she didn’t know any better, would make her assume you had a thing for him. But you were just aware of people, especially the ones who put other people first.

“You’d do well in college,” you said, looking at JJ.

“I have no brain cells,” he said, laughing at his own joke.

You shrugged. “I just think you’re introspective and have a lot to say. JJ didn’t say anything. Sarah could tell he was flustered and couldn’t come up with a coherent response, but you didn’t pay any mind and started a new conversation.

Sarah thought you were so effortlessly cool. You had a “go with the flow” personality but knew when it was time to be mature. You were everything she wanted to be - never caring about what others said about you and doing whatever you wanted if it made you happy. You invested in your future and Sarah wanted to do the same.

“Sarah?” you asked, nudging her side.

“Huh?” she said, looking at you.

You chuckled. “I asked if you wanted to come back to your house with me. I’m meeting Rafe later on tonight and I could give you a ride back home.”

“Oh,” Sarah said, clearing her voice. “No, that’s okay. I’m gonna be hanging out with John B. and JJ until later tonight.”

“Suit yourself,” you said as you stood up. “Mind bringing the towel on your way back?”

Sarah shook your head. “Not at all.”

“Thanks,” you said as you put your sunglasses back on. “See you later, boys!” You waved goodbye and the trio watched you walk away until you disappeared among a small crowd.

“Sarah,” John B. said softly. Her attention turned to the tan boy who stood with a soft expression on his face.

“What?” she asked.

“You like her,” JJ said with a smirk from where he sat.

“N-No I don’t,” Sarah said. “She’s dating my brother.”

“You can still like who he’s dating.” Sarah was quiet.

“We don’t love you any less,” John B. said. Quite frankly, Sarah hadn’t given any thought to her sexuality or what to label it. She just knew she liked you.

“But seriously,” JJ said, pushing himself up from his spot. “Y/N or not, you know we love you, right?”

Sarah felt like a weight was taken off of her shoulders. There was the fear of people knowing she liked her brother’s girlfriend, but also the fear that people knew she had romantic feelings towards girls. She hadn’t thought about how her friends would take to that other than knowing that you were a little older than the rest of them.

“Yeah,” Sarah said softly, a tear slipping from her eye. John B. didn’t miss a beat and pulled her into his chest where she left a few tears splash her already rosy cheeks.

***

It was the night before you were leaving to go back to school after spring break and you had stopped by her house to spend a few hours with her family and say goodbye before going back to your house. Sarah was the only person in the house when you knocked on the door, but you were happy to stick around for a little while.

“It’ll be weird when you go home,” Sarah admitted. “It’s quiet when you’re gone.”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you said, mocking her pout. “It’s only two months. Plus, you can always FaceTime me.”

“I know,” she said, taking step towards you. “It’s just not the same.”

“I think you’re too mature to still be on this island,” you said. “You’ve got this itch for real life and the Outer Banks isn’t giving you any of that.”

“It’s like you took the words right out of my mouth.”

“You’re like me,” you said, sighing. “There’s a lot of things out there for you but you just have to take the first step.”

Sarah was quiet. All she could do was stare at you, perfectly imperfect. You had opted to forego makeup and wore moisturizer and perfume that Sarah could recognize easily. Your wore distressed jeans, white sneakers, and a random shirt you had found that wasn’t in the laundry and left your hair flow behind you without real thought about how you looked. It was nice to see someone who lived on Figure Eight that didn’t care about how they appeared to other people living on this side of the island.

“What are you thinking?” you asked. Sarah realized she hadn’t said anything.

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

“Your pretty head was somewhere else for a minute,” you teased. You walked forward and ran your hands through her hair before resting them on her neck. Sarah gulped, debating on whether or not she should keep her feelings to herself or not.

“You mean a lot to me,” she began. “You, uh, you make Rafe really happy and that makes me really happy.” It took a moment, but you smiled softly at the blonde in front of you. Sarah relished in the feeling of your thumbs stroking her cheeks and waited for you to reply.

“You’re special, Sarah Cameron. You’ll be just fine.”

You leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek but it was dangerously close to the corner of her mouth. Sarah closed her eyes when you let your lips linger for a brief moment before pulling yourself away and waving goodbye, heading outside.

Sarah Cameron had looked at the space you had occupied and watched the ghost you left behind disappear into her memory. She didn’t know much, but she knew you believed in her. And that was enough.

***

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***

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

Text

Favorite Season

Ok so I’m making a couple stories that didn’t show up in the tags all new posts again. I apologize if you already read this.

Word Count: 8,690

POV: Jon’s

Notes: So this is me in my sad bitch hours, so let me apologize in advance to everyone. This story just sort of popped into my head when I listened to Mariah Carey’s Miss You Most at Christmas Time and so I decided to put it down on paper so to speak. Sorry I haven’t been on much lately, but hopefully that will change with the new year. Guess I needed a little cleanse, but I’ll post more on that later. Happy Reading and Happy New Year! I hope you are spending it with friends or family or both. May 2021 bring you peace, joy, health and happiness!

Sidenote: This is not my gif

Second Sidenote: Wishing Jon the best and hoping that he is able to be back on the ice soon!

People always assumed when you talked about what season you loved the most, that you meant hockey, for obvious reasons of course; it was your profession, but once you’d met (Y/N), the word season took on a whole new meaning. You’d kindly respond and tell them no, that wasn’t the season you were talking about. They then assumed that you’d meant spring, for that’s when (Y/N) walked into your life. Well, ran into was more like it. She’d been rushing to the United Center for an interview for a summer internship program, while you were on your way out. Neither one of you had been paying attention, which is how you’d ended up holding her in your arms that first time. You knew from that first moment that you never wanted to let her go.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” (Y/N) said as she tried to regain her footing.

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” She stepped out of your arms to pick up the strewn contents of her bag and being the gentlemen that you were, you knelt down to help her. “Here let me help you.” You picked up a small paperback book and glanced at the title. “Alors tu apprends le Francais?”

“Oh geez, this is so embarrassing,” she admitted, a blush staining her cheeks. “I just bought this book a week ago, in hopes to learn French but I’m afraid I don’t know a word of what you said…well, other than French.” She laughed softly to cover up her embarrassment, but the sound was like a melody that you wanted to play over and over again.

“I just asked if you were learning French.” You handed the book back to her with a smile, as you both stood up off the ground.

“Well, don’t I feel stupid.” She placed the book back in the bag, then placed it on her shoulder. “But yes, I’m trying to learn French. I’m hoping to go to Paris after graduation. Which gives me approximately one year to learn the language, you so eloquently speak.”

“Thank you, but I grew up speaking it, so it comes naturally.”

“Ah, well, you’re lucky.” She took a step away. “I’ve got to run. Again, so sorry for bumping into you.”

“It really wasn’t your fault.”

“We’ll call it a draw,” she said with a lift of her shoulder as she turned and walked away. It was then you noticed a small snowflake charm on the ground.

“Wait, you forgot this.” She turned back around, meeting you halfway.

“Oh, this must have fallen off my keychain again. Thank you, I would’ve been devasted had I lost this. I owe you one.”

You weren’t sure if they were just words spoken or if she truly meant them, but you decided to take a gamble. “How about dinner?”

Her beautiful eyes got even larger, at your poor attempt to ask her out, and you thought you’d just made an idiot of yourself. “Um…sure.” She dug into her bag pulled out a pen, then tore a page of her learn to speak French book out. She scribbled down her name and number, then handed it over to you. “Call me.” Then she turned and took off again. “Sorry, I’m really late.” She was halfway down the hall as you stood there glancing between her name and her. “Hey what’s your name?” she called out.

“It’s Jon.”

“Make sure you bring my page to dinner. I expect you to teach me how to say whatever’s on that.” The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she disappeared down the hall. You called her later that night, and then the following day and every day after that. By the end of spring her French had improved, but not to the point where the two of you could have full conversations without her questioning words here and there. Yes, that spring had been magical and if someone would’ve asked you as summer started, you probably would’ve said that it was your favorite season. But then summer did start, and well that meant you got to see (Y/N) lounging by the lake in a bikini. Your twenty-year-old self thought there was no better season than this. Again though, that wasn’t the season that would stand out in your mind. Nor would it be fall, when just after six months of dating her you told her you loved her.

It hadn’t been some grand gesture like you see in the movie. Rather it was really quite simple. You’d just lost the season opener to the Nashville Predators. It was your first season as captain of the team and you’d really felt the pressure; more from yourself than anyone else. You were the last to come out of the locker room, and you were feeling pretty defeated, but there stood (Y/N) leaning against the wall, holding a piece of paper which read, ‘Tu Les Auras La Prochaine fois.’ But it wasn’t the sign saying that you’ll get them next time that made your heart skip a beat, it was seeing her smiling face holding it that did it for you. “Je t'aime.” The words were out of your mouth before you could think about it, and you didn’t want to take them back. She looked a bit startled and unsure of what to say. “It means I love you, silly. Man, I really thought your French was getting better.”

“I…I know what you said. I just want to make sure, you meant it.”

“Je t'aime, Te Quiero, Ti Amo, they all mean the same, (Y/N). I love you. I probably should’ve said it the day I met you, but…” She still didn’t say anything and suddenly you were starting to wonder if maybe today was too soon. “You don’t have to say it back.”

“No…I mean…Yes…” She closed her eyes then, gathering her thoughts. “Damn, I said that all wrong. I love you too, Jon. Je t'aime.” Her lips were on yours then, the kiss was like so many you shared these last few months, only there was more heat, more passion as you poured all your love for her into it. “Let’s go home,” she softly whispered when you broke apart, a glint in her eye that told you she wanted to show you how much she really loved you.

Your lips quirked up into a smile. “Anything you want, mon amour.”

Yes, fall definitely was one of your favorite times, but it was Christmas that always held a special meaning.

That first Christmas would always hold a special place in your heart. You could remember it like it was yesterday.

You’d just come home from a quick road trip to Detriot. You dropped your bags off at your place and then headed over to (Y/N)’s apartment. When you got there, caricatures of her and her two roommates were drawn on the door, all three dressed for Christmas and around a cartoon tree. You had a hard time knowing where to knock for all the decorations on the door. (Y/N) came scurrying to the door. “You’re back,” she said jumping into your arms and kissing you soundly. Your lips never left hers as you stepped into the apartment.

“Mmm, I see someone missed me.”

“I always miss you, but I’m glad you’re back. You’re just in time to help me hang the rest of these decorations. I could use your height.”

“Oh, so now you only want me because I’m tall.” She released you then swatted you on the arm.

“No, but it doesn’t hurt. Here can you help me string these lights up?”

You took the strand and hung them up per her instructions. “Boy, you really go all out for Christmas.”

“But of course, don’t you?”

“Not really. I don’t even have a tree.”

“Wait, what? You don’t have a tree?” She repeated your exact words as if the thought was impossible.

“It’s not really a huge deal in my family, besides I’m usually never home because of hockey,” you told her as you finished hanging the lights. (Y/N) walked over to the closet, grabbed her shoes, and put on her coat, as soon as you were done. “Uh, babe, where are you going?”

“To go get you some Christmas decorations.” She opened the door, then looked back when you didn’t follow. “Are you coming?” You had no choice but to follow her.

The rest of the afternoon was spent picking out lights, ornaments, a tree, and more decorations than you could fit in your shopping cart, but you didn’t mind being dragged from store to store as (Y/N)’s face lit up in every one of them. “Ok, star or angel?” she asked you holding up two tree toppers, but before you could answer she kept going. “I mean part of me thinks that we should go with the star. It’s pretty traditional and well they always sing about hanging the star on top of the tree, but I like the symbolism of the angel.”

You looked both of them over when she finally decided to take a breath. “Angel, definitely.” She turned the figurine towards her looking it over, while you walked behind her, letting your hands slide around her waist so you could pull her close. When she turned back to look at you, questioning your choice, you simply said, “You’re my angel and she reminds me of you.” She kissed you then, right there in aisle C8, amidst the Christmas decorations.

“Angel it is then.” She set the tree topper in the cart and the two of you headed to the checkout. On the way there, you spotted a sprig of mistletoe and tossed it in the cart unbeknownst to (Y/N). It wasn’t until the tree was up that night, that she found it. “I don’t remember putting this in the cart.”

“You didn’t. I did.” You took the mistletoe out of her hand and went to hang it up in the archway. “If we’re going for full-on Christmas, we can’t forget the best part.” Grabbing her hand, you lead her over to where you’d just hung the little green sprig.

“You really think you need this, to get me to make out with you?” Your hands encircled her waist as she spoke the words, and you drew her in close to you.

“Well, no. This is just an excuse.” You pecked her lips quickly. “Besides, this is my first time decorating for this holiday, I might as well go all out.”

She returned the kiss, only it was more heated as you slid your tongue inside her. She moaned into your mouth before pulling back. “In that case, let’s make it a little more memorable.” She stepped out of your embrace, her fingers trailing down to the button on your pants. It slipped out of the buttonhole easily, before she slid the zipper down. You sucked in a breath, as her hands snuck inside the waistband of your boxers and she slid them and your pants all the way to the ground. (Y/N) fell to her knees, her hands skating up your thighs as you felt her warm breath fan across your cock. It twitched before you felt her lips place a kiss right on the head. Her lips trailed all the way up and down the length of your shaft, teasing you.

“Babe, you’re killing me.” A wicked glint in her eye was her answer back, as she placed her puckered lips on the head one last time before she finally took you inside her mouth. Your hands threaded through her hair as she sunk down to take most of you in. She took her free hand and wrapped it around the length that didn’t fit inside and gave it a gentle squeeze, then her mouth started to work its own little bit of Christmas magic as she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked on your cock. “Damn, baby that feels so good,” you hissed out, your hips rocking a bit into her mouth. If this was (Y/N)’s idea of Christmas traditions you were all for it, and mistletoe was definitely going to be a staple to your decorating every year.

(Y/N)’s free hand slipped down to your balls where she cupped them and you felt yourself close to bursting. Your body tingled as she hummed around your cock. With her mouth and hands on you it felt like there was enough electricity coursing through your body that you could light up a million strand of Christmas lights at the moment. “(Y/N), I’m going to…” she didn’t stop though just took your cock deeper until you swore you hit the back of her throat. It was that move, that pushed you over as you spilled your seed in her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could, though some dribbled out and you thought it was hot as hell.

That night would forever live in your mind, as you returned the favor by making her cum not once but twice under that same mistletoe. Even though, it was one of your favorite memories from that first Christmas. It wasn’t that, that made Christmas your favorite season. It was the way that (Y/N) embraced the joy of the season in everything she did. Even the simplest things were a little brighter with her around. She made everyone around sparkle and shine just like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Not that she wasn’t always that way, but there was just something special about (Y/N) and Christmas and thus it became your favorite time of year.

There had been no Christmas break that year in the NHL, meaning you had no time to head back home, so (Y/N) had invited you to her house to be with her family. They had welcomed you with open arms and you had found out, why she’d loved Christmas so much. Her family went all out, decorations were everywhere and presents were piled high. They’d included you in all their traditions, from frosting to cookies to playing Christmas charades. They even had you cut a piece of wheat for Baby Jesus’s manager, as was their annual custom to do before opening presents Christmas morning. That first Christmas had set the tone for all those to follow after it.

As Christmas drew to a close that year, you knew one thing for sure. That you never wanted to spend another one without her. It was an easy decision to ask her to move in with you, once she graduated college, and right before that Christmas that year, the two of you bought your first place together. To commemorate the event, (Y/N) had a special ornament made in the shape of a key.

Hockey took precedence the following year, as you won the Stanley Cup and it seemed like the summer and fall flew by. One thing was for sure though, and that was that (Y/N) was with you every step of the way. You knew you had to make that Christmas extra special. It was the first time your family flew in for the holiday. (Y/N)’s family all came to your place as well that year. The house was filled with love and laughter and was about to get a little more exciting.

All the presents had been unwrapped and everyone was lounging in the great room. “I think there’s one more present here,” you pointed to a box you had hidden off in the corner. “Looks like it has your name on it, babe.”

(Y/N) took the gift and looked at the tag. “It doesn’t say who it’s from.”

“Well, that happens from time to time. You know Santa’s elves are really busy this time of year,” her mom chimed in, giving you a little wink. “Go ahead and open it.”

She tore through the layer of paper to the box, then lifted the lid, which happened to reveal a smaller box. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed, laughing as she took that wrapped package out and removed the paper again. Lifting the lid, she found yet another box. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Did you do this?” She was staring straight at you because she knew this was totally out of your character. All you could do was simply shrug. The unwrapping went on for another six layers until she finally revealed a small black velvet box. All your family gasped as she went to open it. Her eyes were fixated on the container, as she slowly pulled back the lid. The look of excitement on her face was almost too much for you, and then her face fell, exactly like you thought it would. “There’s nothing in it.” She whispered, her voice small as she lifted her eyes to you. You could feel her family and yours glaring at you for pulling a stunt like this. You decided now would be a good time to put everyone out of their misery.

Dropping down to one knee in front of her, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the extravagant ring that you’d had made for her. The gasp from everyone this time was probably heard down the street as they took in their first glimpse of the engagement ring. (Y/N) covered her mouth with her hands and you saw one lone tear slip down her cheek; a happy one, you hoped. “(Y/N), I was going to leave this in the last box, but then I couldn’t. For your real present isn’t this ring. It’s me. That is if you’ll have me.” She was already shaking her head yes before you even had a chance to ask her the question. “I guess what I’m asking is if you’ll spend every Christmas from now until the end of time with me?” Another tear slid down her cheek and this time you knew for sure it was a joyful one. “(Y/FN), will you be my wife?”

“Yes, Jon, yes!” She was down on the ground in your arms kissing you before you could blink. She almost tackled you to the carpet, but your hand reached out and steadied you both on the end table beside you. That’s when you realized the ring popped out of your hand and had fallen somewhere amongst the pile of wrapping paper.

You broke from the kiss immediately. “Shit, I dropped the ring.”

“I don’t care. You’re my present and apparently my future as well.” She locked her lips with yours again. The two of you were so caught up in each other, you forgot about the rest of your family in the room; who had now gone on a search for the engagement ring.

“Found it,” your mom said breathing a sigh of relief. You took it and slipped it on (Y/N)’s finger making it official. That Christmas was definitely one of the most memorable.

The following summer you married. Most people expected the two of you to have this big grand wedding, which would’ve taken another year or more to plan, but neither you nor (Y/N) wanted that. Instead, it was a quiet ceremony with just family and close friends, exactly what you wanted, as you couldn’t wait for her to be your wife. That Christmas was your first as husband and wife, and there was more than one Mr. and Mrs. Toews ornament hanging off the tree.

Payback came your second Christmas as a married couple. There you were opening box after box. “Really babe? I would’ve expected this last year.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Mr. Toews.”

You unwrapped yet another box. “So is the Rolex we looked at a couple weeks ago in here?” She mimicked your shrug from two years ago. It had to be the watch, for the shrug was always (Y/N)’s go to move when she didn’t want to tell you that you were right. Sure enough, as you peeled back the paper on the last package, there was the signature green box of the famous company. “Nice try babe, but I guess I outsmarted you this time.” The hinge creaked as you opened the box, but you were shocked when there wasn’t a watch inside, but a positive pregnancy test. “Are you…?”

Your eyes locked with hers and she was nodding her head. “Yes, yes we are.” Your lips were on hers in an instant, as this time you were the one with tears in your eyes.

“I don’t get the big deal over a watch.” You heard your brother say in French in the background.

“They’re having a baby you idiot,” your dad told him, cuffing him upside the head.

Levi Abram Toews was born on July twenty-fifth of the following year, giving you a little bit of Christmas midway through the following year. His first Christmas was probably one of your favorites. At six months old, he was sitting up and just starting to crawl. (Y/N) had to move all the floor decorations up, because he started to chew on all the snowmen that he could grab. Levi’s little eyes sparkled as he was mesmerized by all the twinkling lights and bulbs. You thought you couldn’t love Christmas anymore, but seeing it through your son’s eyes made the holiday even more joyous.

When 2013 Christmas rolled around it had you hanging another Stanley cup ornament on the tree as the Hawks had won yet another one. It seemed as though the moment (Y/N) stepped into your life all the pieces just fell into place. She truly was the angel on top of the tree.

You didn’t think anything remarkable happened the Christmas of 2014 but by Valentine’s day it became clear that your wife was pregnant again, and your new little one had to have been conceived on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. It too would always hold special meaning whenever you looked at your baby girl. Elizabeth or Lizzie as you liked to call her, joined your little family on September 25th, 2015. Making her the cherry on the cake to winning your third Stanley cup. Lizzie was daddy’s girl and everyone knew it, even your wife. Of course, there were a few ornaments on the Christmas tree that year. One with Lizzie’s picture in the cup, along with her first Christmas ornament, all got hung alongside the three Stanley Cup ornaments and Levi’s bulb. Your tree was getting quite full.

As were your wife’s hands apparently, as you could see (Y/N) getting more and more tired as Christmas 2016 rolled around. Oh, she was still her fun-loving and joyful self, but she also looked completely exhausted most days. She would dust off any concerns and tell you that was the price she paid for having two kids under the age of four. “Babe, why don’t you come and sit down,” you told her having just gotten back from your last road trip before Christmas, which was only three days away.

“I can’t. I still need to finish wrapping the gifts, then I’ve got cookies to bake, and get the food prepped for Christmas Eve dinner.”

“What can I do to help?” You asked rubbing her shoulders as she worked in the dining room wrapping the presents since the kids were finally in bad.

“You could…” She spun around to talk to you and that’s when your heart fell out of your chest as she collapsed right into your arms. Your blood ran cold as you saw color draining from her face. Gently as you could, you laid her down on the floor, calling out her name. “(Y/N)…baby…(Y/N) please wake up.” You ran and grabbed your bag knowing that you had smelling salts in there that the team used every now and then. Breaking it open, you wafted the scent over her nose, praying the whole time for her to wake back up. It took a bit, but eventually, she did rouse. “Oh thank god.”

“What happened?”

“I was going to ask you. You just fainted in my arms.” She made a move to get up but you could see that another bout of something had hit her again. “No just stay there. I’m calling the team doctor.”

“Jon, don’t. I’m sure I’m just tired. I’ll be fine.”

It was too late for her to try to change your mind as you already had the doctor dialed up. He asked a few questions, basically checking to see if she could be pregnant, but that wasn’t an option as she’d just finished her period two days ago. He recommended that you head to the hospital and get (Y/N) checked out. It was a fight to get her there, especially so close to Christmas, but eventually, she gave in and once her parents came to watch the kids, the two of you were on your way.

You rushed into the emergency room, where (Y/N) went through a series of tests. You hadn’t realized until that moment, when (Y/N) was laying in the hospital bed, that she’d lost some weight and seemed very fatigued. Your wife was always this strong and unmovable force, yet right then she looked so frail. Mentally, you kicked yourself for not noticing these things earlier. After hours of testing, the emergency room doctor came in to speak to you both. He told you that there was definitely something off in her blood work and that he wanted to admit her for further testing. (Y/N) put up a fight, not wanting to be in the hospital another minute. She insisted she had way too many things to do than just laying around waiting for them to tell her she would be fine.

“You’re staying and that’s final.” She argued with you, but in the end, you won out again.

Thankfully, she was out of the hospital by Christmas Eve and when she came home, her parents and yours had most everything done so that it was a perfect Christmas for your children. It was two days after Christmas that you received the worst news of your life. (Y/N) had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. The doctor wasn’t sure what stage it was in but wanted her for more testing before they would try and figure out treatment. It couldn’t have come at a worse time, as you were just gearing up for a ten-day road trip.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Damnit Jon, you are going. You’re the captain of the team and they need you,” she shouted back to you. The two of you had been arguing since you put the kids in bed. Your parents were still there, they had decided to stay a little longer with (Y/N) being sick to help out with the kids and her parents were only minutes away, but none of that mattered.

“I’m also the captain of THIS team,” you said pointing back and forth between the two of you. “And right now, that’s more important.”

“It’s just some testing at this point. If there’s anything more serious, you can be on the next plane back here.” Her voice was quieter now, and you couldn’t tell if she was just weak from cancer or tired of fighting, but you could see the determination in her eyes not to lose this battle. You needed her to keep that same look for whatever was to come and it was for that reason alone that you found yourself agreeing to go on the trip.

She was right, you were only a phone call away, and she could facetime you in on all her appointments, which she did. It was not the way you wanted to find out that her biopsy showed her having stage two stomach cancer and that her chance of survival was thirty-five percent.

You could see her crumbling on the screen, her mom and dad beside her for support, but it wasn’t enough. You should’ve been there damnit. Why in the hell had you listened to her? You wanted to scream through the phone but couldn’t; you needed to stay calm and be there for her. “Baby, look at me,” you said in a gentle yet reassuring voice, and her tearstained eyes locked with yours. “We’re going to beat this.” She sniffled loudly, then straightened her back, that steely determination taking over.

“Of course, we will.” What you didn’t know, was that she cried the entire ride home in the backseat of her parents’ car, or how she made her dad ride around the block several times before going inside to see your children. All the while, you were on the phone with the team doctor finding out everything you could to help your wife. The two of you found the best specialist in North America and had her records sent there. A week later, you were by (Y/N)’s side at UPMC Medical Center in Pittsburgh determining the best course of treatment.

She would do several rounds of pinpointed radiation to shrink the tumor before they would go in and remove it. It would all be followed up with some intense chemotherapy. The doctor told her she would more than likely lose her hair, and that it would make her extremely weak. They could set everything up to happen in Chicago so that she wouldn’t have to leave your home.

The surgery, which took place in February and caused you to miss a few games, went very well. The two of you stayed in Pittsburgh five days before flying back on a private plane home to your children. Who didn’t seem to understand why mommy couldn’t pick them up and carry them around anymore. Your parents and (Y/N)’s were godsends, as (Y/N) insisted you go back to hockey. You hated being away from her, though with every day that past you could see her strength building up. That was until the chemotherapy started.

There were to be six to eight rounds of chemotherapy that (Y/N) was going to have to take. They would fall in four-week intervals. You were there the day she got her first one. It took over eight hours for her to receive the treatment through her port that the surgeon had put in. She seemed to take it really well or so you thought until you found her hunched over the toilet a couple days later throwing up. She tried to shake it off, act like it was nothing new, telling you it was just like being pregnant again, but you knew better. You could hear the tremble in her voice, see the tears she fought so hard to hold back, while you held back your own. You’d give anything to take this pain away from her, but you couldn’t.

It wasn’t until round three that her hair started falling out in clumps. She was sitting at the breakfast table, the kids at her parents when she brushed it back to pull it out of her face. Strands of hair covered her fingers, a look of horror covering her face. “It’s ok baby, we knew this would happen.”

She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. “I just thought that I made it this far with it, that maybe they were wrong.” You were at her side in a minute, holding her as she started to shake from head to toe.

“Let it out (Y/N). It’s ok to be sad or mad or anything. I’m right here.” It was the first time that she’d cried about it, at least in front of you.

“It’s not fair Jon,” she sobbed into your chest. “I want to be there to watch my kids grow up.”

“And you will, mon amour. We’re going to fight this every step of the way.” She cried for a solid hour, as you held back tears of your own, telling her in a calming voice that she was going to beat this. All the while being scared as hell that she might not.

Later that day, you helped her shave every strand of hair from her head. It was the hardest thing you’d had to do in your life. You’d rather take a ninety mile an hour puck to your face then to see your wife this broken and defeated. In the end, she took a deep breath as she looked herself in the mirror, eyes still glassy from tears. “You will not beat me,” she told her reflection, then looked at your reflection. “I will fight this with every breath I have.” Your lip trembled as you fought back the river of tears that threatened to spill over at her strength. Your wife was a fighter, and you knew she would conquer this disease and you’d be beside her every step of the way.

That summer you spent every available second with (Y/N) and the kids. Treatments became a normal part of your routine. The problem was with everyone, you saw your wife getting weaker and weaker. She was practically skin and bones, even though she would force herself to eat. When she took her final round of chemotherapy in October, you breathed a sigh of relief. The doctors said they wouldn’t know if the chemo had worked for a few weeks and so you waited. Praying every night that her cancer was gone once and for all, and your wife would no longer have to suffer.

A month later, you were back in Pittsburgh, sitting in front of the doctor who held your entire fate in his hands. “I’m afraid it’s not good news,” he started to say, and your face drained, while (Y/N) gripped your hand tightly. “The chemotherapy hasn’t responded as we’d like.” Everything he said after that was a garbled mess. Your mind clouded over and there was a loud ringing in your ears. You wanted to grab this man by the throat and tell him to make your wife better. That was his job, wasn’t it? He was supposed to heal people, and damn it he should’ve done that for (Y/N). “I’m not giving up hope yet.” It was those words that finally drug you out of the blinding rage that was coursing through your veins. He proceeded to say that there was an experimental drug and that they had no way of knowing if it would work, but it might be something the two of you would be interested in trying. He handed you a bunch of paperwork to go home and read before making any decisions.

“I think you should take it,” you told her the minute you got in the car.

“Maybe we should read what he gave us first.”

“It doesn’t matter what that says (Y/N) if it means that you get to stay here with me and the kids; I think we should do it.”

“It’s not a 'we’ Jon. It’s me who has to do this. What if it has some long-term effects or…” she started to list scenarios, that meant nothing to you.

“The only long-term thing here is that you’re dead. Do you want that? Because I don’t.” You were yelling at her, and you didn’t want to, but couldn’t she see that this drug was your only option. “I need you (Y/N). The kids need you.” This time you couldn’t hold back the tears as they started to fall hard and fast down your cheeks. “Damn it, I love you and I’m not willing to lose you. Do you understand me?”

You could barely see her swallow hard as tears flooded your vision, and while you knew you needed to be strong for her; you were finally breaking. “Ok,” she whispered softly, and you grabbed her holding her to your body as close as you could with the console in the middle of the car. “I’ll do it.”

“You will?” you mumbled into the crook of her neck. You could feel the dampness of her shirt from your tears but all that mattered was that she agreed to take the treatment.

“Yes,” she answered pulling you back so she could look in your eyes. “I’d do anything for you, my love.” You kissed her then pouring every ounce of love you had for her into it.

The following day, after reading through all the paperwork, (Y/N) called the doctor and got set up to take the new drug. Once you were back in Chicago, she started treatments right away. The drug was aggressive, even more so than her first round of chemotherapy and within two weeks she wound up in the hospital, her immune system so compromised that you had to suit up in a gown and mask every time you went to see her. The kids weren’t allowed in, which killed her, but you had them facetime her every day.

As Christmas grew near your spirits were low. (Y/N) insisted that you put up all the decorations just as you had every year. She ordered the kids’ gifts online so that they wouldn’t miss out on a single thing. Her only term for taking the new treatment was that you continue to play hockey. Her parents stepped up and watched the kids while you were away. You were just returning home from a road trip, about a week before Christmas when you stopped in at the hospital to see (Y/N) before heading home. When you walked into her room, you barely recognized her. Her frail form looked almost lifeless as she lay in the hospital bed, so much so that you had to check the rise and fall of her chest to make sure she was still breathing. Thankfully she was.

“Salut mon amour,” you said in a soft gentle voice, wanting her to know that you were there but at the same time not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. She turned her head to the side to see you, a weak smile gracing her chapped lips.

A scratchy “hi,” was all she was able to muster back. You took your gloved hand and held hers in it. God, what you wouldn’t give to just touch her skin and feel her once again. But since you couldn’t, you stroked your thumb back and forth over her palm, hoping that she could somehow draw from your strength.

“How are you feeling today?”

The smile dropped, and so did your heart. “I don’t think this is working Jon.” It was too soon to tell. Even the doctors had said that. She just needed to hang on, give the drug more time to work. “I think we need to start preparing for the worst.” Her hand squeezed yours, whether it was for support or to support you, you weren’t sure.

“No, baby, I’m not ready for you to give up yet.”

“I know Jon, and I’m fighting I really am. But it’s just so hard…Hard to breathe…Hard to move. I don’t feel like me anymore.” A tear slipped out and though you had a glove on your hand, you reached up and wiped it away.

“You’ve just gotta fight (Y/N). You’ve got to do it for Levi, and Lizzie, and god baby please do it for me.” You were begging now, both her and god. You couldn’t lose her, you weren’t ready to live your life without her yet.

“I will my love…..but Jon, there may come a day when I can’t fight anymore and I need you to support me on that.” You knew what she was talking about, that if the doctors wanted to put her on a ventilator, she didn’t want that. Though if it could save her…you weren’t sure you could follow her wishes.

You nodded your head not willing to put in words something you couldn’t promise just yet. You stayed there with her for a while; until she basically kicked you and told you to go home and get some sleep. The moment you walked in the door of your house, you screamed in anger. There were all the decorations that (Y/N) made you hang with the kids and you hated every one of them. They were torturous reminders that your wife wasn’t there this Christmas, that she couldn’t be with you and the kids. You grabbed the strand of garland that hung on the archway into the living room and ripped it down, throwing the ball of mistletoe across the room. It felt good, and so you tore down some more, just letting all your anger and frustrations out. It was a side of you that hardly ever came out even on the ice. Oh, you’d definitely dropped the gloves a time or two but only when someone really deserved it. Only now there was no one to fight. It was a disease and you couldn’t throw it up against the boards or punch it in the jaw. So instead, you took it out on the decorations. Every wreath that hung on the wall you ripped it apart with your bare hands. Every Santa figurine that sat on the table, you smashed against the floor. You were just about the tear the stockings off the fireplace when you stopped. It was seeing your wife’s name knitted into the fabric that got you and instead you carefully took it off the hook and brought it to your face as if it were her and you could simply hold her that close once again.

“Please (Y/N), please don’t leave me,” you called out to the void that was your house, as you dropped to your knees, tears freely flowing down your face. It was all too much. You’d finally reached that breaking point and just laid on the flooring sobbing and praying to God to save your wife. It was the only Christmas wish you had. Sure, you’d prayed when you were younger asking god to make you a better hockey player and then that you would be drafted in the NHL, but never in your life had you wanted anything like you wanted this, for your wife to be fine, for her to live a happy healthy life with you and your children. You’d trade everything you had if you could.

At some point, you picked yourself up and looked at the disaster that you’d made in what was once a storybook Christmas home. (Y/N) would be so disappointed in what you had done, not to the house, but to the mess that your kids would walk into when they would come home. You cleaned up the broken shards of glass, restrung the garland, and tried to salvage what you could of the other decorations you’d destroyed yet somehow the house still seemed to be missing something. There were tons of extra decorations in the closet, as your wife seemed to always buy more and more every year, well you couldn’t really blame (Y/N) as you tended to help as well. So, you dragged yourself upstairs to see what else might try and make the place a bit more festive.

It was in rummaging through the closet that you stumbled upon it. It was a simple container, not very big with the word “Love,” written in script on the top. You peered inside and were stunned to find dozens of envelopes, each marked with either yours or your children’s name on them. It was then that you realized they were goodbye letters from your wife, as some were addressed to Levi and Lizzie on their eighteenth birthdays or their graduations. There was even one for each of them on their wedding day. A gasp left your mouth at the realization that she didn’t plan on being around for any of these occasions. You weren’t sure what hurt more, the fact that she was giving up or that you’d be facing a life without her.

All that anger and hurt from moments ago came surfacing back and you had the urge to punch your fist through the wall this time, though you fought it for the sake of your kids. Flipping through the envelopes you saw different ones with your name on them. You picked up the one that was on top of the pile marked 'To Jon on Christmas Eve.’ It was heavier than what you thought and you realized that it wasn’t a letter but a video. Taking the box, you headed downstairs to see what your wife had to say.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t be watching this, as you hit the play button on the remote control, yet you couldn’t stop yourself. Maybe there would be something on here that could help you convince her to fight harder. It took a second for (Y/N) to come on the screen. She looked weak, yet still as beautiful as ever as she sat in the chair up in your bedroom. Her wig was on, probably in hopes that you’d remember her like she once was and not the sickly cancer patient she feared everyone saw.

“Bonjour, mon amour.” God, you loved how she spoke French to you. She’d been so earnest in her studies those early days and now was rather good at it. “I’m not sure where to start with this. I want you to know that this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I hope that you’re watching this after the kids’ are in bed and you’ve put all the presents under the tree. God, how I’ll miss doing that with you, but I know that you will make this Christmas and every one after special for our two little angels. They are so lucky to have a dad like you, just like I was so lucky to have you as my husband.” Tears were streaming down (Y/N)’s face as she spoke to you on the screen, just as they were flooding your eyes.

“I love you so much,” she swallowed hard, the movement visible as her body was frail. “Even more than I love Christmas.” It was a small attempt at humor on her part, and you wish that you could smile at it, but at the moment all you had were tears of sadness. “Remember that first Christmas when we bought the tree topper together. You told me then that I was your angel. Well, now I truly am. I hope that when you place her on top of the tree, you’ll know that I’m smiling down at you and our babies.” Your eyes automatically went to the angel on the tree. Her soft smiling eyes shining right into yours. A sob broke from you then, as you realized how much the angel looked like your wife. She had the same eyes, the same hair, and the same soft easy smile that melted your heart.

“I’m going to miss this time of year with you; the laughter, the joy, the mistletoe. It was always my favorite season with you, though you made everyday special.” You knew how she felt, for you had a feeling you’d miss her most at Christmas time. “Jon, I’d give anything to be with you right now. Just know that if I had to do it all again, I would. I’d go through every treatment, every needle, every single bit of it, if it meant one more Christmas with you…hell, even if it was one more day with you.” She wiped away the tears then, visibly collecting herself to continue on with what she had to say.

“But I want you to be happy, Jon. I want you to love again. I want you to find joy in not only Christmas but every day, even if I’m not there. And I can see you sitting there, shaking your head and telling me it’s not going to happen, and maybe it won’t tomorrow or the next day, but I hope it does someday. I love you too much to not want you to love again. Be happy, you deserve it.” You weren’t sure how she could ask this of you, there was no way that it would ever happen if she wasn’t in your life.

“Bumping into you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You were the best thing to happen to me, Jonathan Toews and for that I thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend, husband, or father. You will always be the love of my life…and what a life we had.” There was still more of it to be had, you just knew there had to be. “I love you, Jon. Merry Christmas, my love.” It took another second and then the screen went blank.

“I love you, (Y/N),” you whispered up the angel smiling down at you. Tears clouded your vision until all the lights just seemed to melt into one giant one. This was not how things were meant to end. You laid your head back against the sofa and closed your eyes and just prayed. Even though you’d just done that hours ago, you asked God to do the impossible, to give you a Christmas miracle.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, for you woke up sometime later to a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Jon, sweetie, wake up, my love.” You could swear that was your wife’s voice. It took your eyes a minute to regain focus, but it was your wife standing over you, in Christmas pajamas, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Her hair, you thought vaguely, not some wig because she’d lost all hers, and she looked healthy, strong in fact.

“You’re here? You’re ok,” you said jumping up and running your hands down her arms.

Her smile told you then that it hadn’t been a dream like you thought, and you looked over to the screen on the tv, to see the Christmas message she’d sent you back up on the screen. “You were watching it again, weren’t you?” she asked.

You had to shake yourself to get the cobwebs out of your brain. It was six years ago that you found the video, though you’ve replayed it every year since. That first time watching it you’d wanted to run to the hospital and shake some sense into your wife, but something stopped you. Maybe deep down you knew she had never truly given up, for she had called you Christmas Eve saying that she was feeling much better. The kids had gotten to see her on Christmas day, though there were still precautions taken. It was a week later that she was home and with you as her strength continually improved. She grew stronger every day after that as well. It was months later that her cancer was declared gone by the doctors, the new treatment having saved her life and yours in the process. She was a survivor and you thanked God every day for giving you that miracle you’d asked for so long ago. “I still don’t know how you found them,” she said to you. “Or why you continue to watch that video every year.”

“I watch it because it reminds me of how close I was to losing you.” Your arms encircled her waist now, drawing her closer to you. “And how magical the Christmas season is as it brought you back to me.” You gazed into her loving eyes, yours shining with that same love you saw in hers. “And to hold you a little tighter each day.” You did exactly as you said, squeezing her so that no space was between either of you, before dropping a kiss to her lips.

“I’m not sure it was the Christmas season that helped me find the strength to fight. I’m pretty sure it was you, Mr. Toews.” Her lips found yours in a soul-stealing kiss, as she poured all her love for you into it.

You maneuvered the two of you under the archway where the sprig of mistletoe always hung. “Well, Mrs. Toews, Christmas will always be my favorite time of year, though I treasure every day with you. Joyeux Noel, mon amour.”

“Merry Christmas, Jon.”

#Jonathan Toews #jonathan toews imagines #jonathan toews imagine #jonathan toews smut #chicago blackhawks imagine #chicago blackhawks iamgines #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction

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aggresivelyfriendly · 4 years

Text

Tis the Damn Season

Chapter 6- Last Christmas

Hi all! Sorry she took forever- I edited all by myself, so be gentle!

Plans change. Tickets do too, it seems. Harry's beautiful hope, his gift, it came in handy.

Not in the right way, the intended way. Not because she came to him, ran around the world or even an unfamiliar city with him. Those were dreamy ideas, when she wound up spending all of fall semester in Holmes Chapel. Those daydreams shaded the hospital walls and funeral home with sunny possibilities.

Her father had a heart attack and her mother a breakdown. It was too late, when her mother noticed he'd been out with the dog for too long and the dog was inside whining.

"I knew, in my gut. Day dawned wrong. And then never ended." She'd cried. Her mother had cried in her arms in a reversal Emma felt was way beyond her maturity level.

That hadnt been over the phone. Over the phone had only been muffled sobbing and her dad's name, "John."

Emma didn't call him John, but she could forgive her mother. It was up to her mother's good friend Di to share the news: Emma had always looked up to Di, she'd had some tragic marriage in her youth, and then decided god damned men weren't for her.

At the moment, Emma was of a similar mind.

Emma assumed she'd have a similar life to Di, had planned for it actually. Di had her own house, a thriving career as a solicitor and no children. A life like that, of her own, was Emma's dearest wish before she wished to be able to say yes to Harry.

Now she just wished her dad was still around.

There were so many plans to make, a funeral to finance and a mother to support, to put back together.

It's a wonder Emma wasn't an outright romantic, the way her parents had been, lifelong sweethearts. They still had moon eyes for each other until the very end, could be found holding hands on the couch often. Emma had come home unexpectedly early last year and found her mother sitting on the kitchen counter with her father between her legs making out like teenagers.

It was a lot to live up to.

Emma supposed it was why she kept all her heart eyes and love life in the closet and saved it all up to spend once a year. Just like an old lady's Christmas budget.

This year, she didn't think it would be happening. Harry must have had some rich person thing going on with the ticket, because the minute she decided that rather than ask her mom to buy her a ticket to get home, for the funeral, instead use the one she had from Harry, he'd called. There was clear excitement in his voice, hot on the heels of her phone call to the airlines. It was August. He was set to embark soon, she'd just got back to Amsterdam. He must have thought she was gonna sneak in a cheeky visit.

"You're coming?"

"What?" She was so disoriented. Coming where? What was going on? Her brain was muffled with plans her feelings kept stumbling over at the knees like a trip wire.

"To see me? I got a notification you used the ticket?"

Her brain was muddled, like an egg in a hot pan, what? How did he do that? "No, Harry, umm I'm not coming. I don't even know where you are right now." She barely knew where she was.

"Whose fault is that?" There was a tiny edge to his voice that would cut her if she could even notice. "You could have answered my calls."

"Harry," she sighed, she had been avoiding him a bit. Mostly because she had an evergreen memory of his disappointed face when she told him going on tour was too much, that she simply didn't have the time. She was glad she couldn't see his face when she said the next bit. His voice was buoyant with hope, she was about to pop that balloon. "I need the ticket to go somewhere else." She couldn't bear to say it, was biting her lip hard not to think it, the liquid memory brimming anyway.

"Yeah, ok. Well, Happy Christmas I guess. See you in four months, maybe." The bitterness in his voice was like an old lemon and she didn't even have time to sweeten it with truth when his phone clicked off.

That made her resentful. How could this truth be sweet in any way? It got worse over time, the resentment just nestled among her other griefs.

Then he wouldn't answer her calls. She supposed that was giving her a taste of her own medicine and it was a quick wash down her throat with no water after the other jagged pill life had just forced down her throat.

And it didn't get better. Though, she had to scoff at herself for even having a square of heart for Harry to break leftover.

Break it did though, when she heard he had a new girlfriend, a blonde, a model, a French blonde model.

Of course.

Emma couldn't help but stalk her instagram. His was useless, ill used, so when she'd finished a day of running the house she'd been a child in while taking care of her grieving mother, she'd torture herself some more and watch stories where the beautiful blonde played in a pool, or made jokes, or showed the big mirror over her bed.

That one hurt most. She'd never seen Harry's bed, nor he hers. The little devil voice inside her head whisper shouted that he much preferred the one he was in now, with the mirror and the model to the tiny inn room they'd spent all their overnights in.

She didn't hear from him, and she never called to explain herself either. What would she say? My life fell apart and I needed your ticket, but it hurt to much to say it out loud and you were to much of an asshole to let me say it.

Harry wasn't an asshole, not really, he was hurt. Emma was stunned she had that power, though she had admitted to herself there was more between them than mistletoe kisses and holiday fucks.

She'd admitted it was more to her.

He acted like it was more to him, unless this was just a bruised ego. She didn't like to think that. Harry had every reason to have a giant head, figuratively to go with the oversized cranium he actually sported, but he'd never shown it. He was cocky at times, just enough to be sexy. All of that was a veneer over a sweet vulnerability that made everybody want to be around him, protect him, love him.

Did she love him?

No, she didn't think so, but given more time, the potential was there, like a rock at the top of a hill, all it would take was a push.

Which, time on tour with him would have been. If she could have went. Which she couldn't. She wanted to explain all of this to him as soon as she has the chance- which she would in 6 hours.

Her promises to herself were that she would not cry and that she would accept his new relationship. His real relationship. Emma would not try to touch him, or kiss him, or confess her almost love to him.

He was probably in love himself, from her internet stalks, she was halfway there, with both of them. Harry edged it out by being perfect in person. Camille, that was frenchies name, could only be half as perfect as Emma made her in her head.

"Do I wear the sweater?" She asked her reflection. She'd had to become her best friend the last six months. Emma might have called her mom her best friend, just based on time spent together, if their relationship was reciprocal, but at this turn of the road, she was supporting her mom as she grieved and got back to herself. Emma could see glimmers. She had hope.

She however wasn't sure she had hope for herself. Was she really contemplating wearing the sweater Harry gave her last Christmas to his mother's Christmas party? How pathetic was that? She was rolling her eyes at herself. He'd had a big year, and he bought lots of gifts, probably for his new girl, so her thinking he'd remember felt narcissistic.

Plus, it was her favorite, which mostly had nothing to do with the fact it was from Harry.

Emma really didn't want to go, but Gemma was expecting her. And she really needed to see her, have her support. They'd been texting, a lot. Gemma had heard about her dad and reached out. It was the only emotionally connection Emma really had, those texts, and she needed to see Gemma, honestly. Even if it meant seeing Harry.

She might have wanted to see Harry.

To explain, and maybe just to see him. Make sure he was happy, feel his warmth, steal him back.

No, that was unlikely. See if he was happy and wish him well.

She wore the sweater.

The house was cozy when she arrived, like it always was and it thawed her heart enough for it to ache a bit. For something new. Her heart ached a fair bit off and on, then went numb. It was the only way she'd survived lately. Emma knew she was putting off really feeling her major loss.

It was a strange pleasure to mourn something as minor as heartbreak.

The hug from Gemma made the trip through the snow and down memory lane worth it. And the people all around her and their laughter were invigorating.

The alcohol helped as well. Their house was pretty dry but had been especially when she started to notice her mom was unconsciously developing a bottle a day habit. When it wasn't there she didn't mention it though, so Emma didn't buy it, except for special occasions.

She was merry, and felt held. Her hand was in Gemma's. She'd stayed away from the back bathroom and the kitchen, even come in the front door.

Emma felt like she was getting away with it.

Harry wasn't there, with girlfriend in tow or not. So all her pontificating about checking on him was all for naught, and she was getting all the crosses. She certainly felt like today was a plus.

Until she heard a tone of elation issue from Anne's happy voice that only motherly joy could produce.

Harry was here.

"Fuck!" Came out of her mouth, and Gemma looked at her sharply.

"What?"

"Nothing, guess I'm jumpy, your mum's shout made me spill." Emma thought she shouted an excuse me while she hurried up the stairs to hide, find a place farthest away from Harry and his happiness. He might be alone, but if he was glowing like a brand, the way he did when they holed up together only slightly dimmed by their parting, now because of it, from some other lover, Emma couldn't stand it.

Plus, she thought she'd heard another name connected to his over her own rated r exclamation.

She was coming out of the bathroom. Emma had suppressed her tears ruthlessly and her bottom lip might bruise from the brutal teeth marks she employed. She'd have given herself some words in the mirror, affirmations helped, but what was she gonna say. "You're happy for him."

She wasn't. She was happy with him.

"Fuck this." Emma decided the only course of action was a straight line to her parents house. her mother's house, she mentally corrected and gave herself a more legitimate reason to cry than over a boy. Even if that boy was Harry Styles.

Who she barely stopped herself from running into as she kept her head down and rounded the bannister to head down the stairs.

"Jesus! You gave me a fright!" She dramatized and kept a hand over her heart and her tear stained face down.

"Emma." His voice was flat, and not cold, but the warmth that snuggled around her name was absent and she shivered. "I wondered if you'd be here." Not Hoped, she noted. "What are you doing up here? Don't your usually use the back bathroom?" There was just a bit of heat in that statement, but it didn't warm, it burned. Was he being mean, that wasn't like him? "Nice sweater." Ok, definitely mean.

Her face came up with that thought, it shocked her out of the sense of control she was exercising.

He did look hard, mean, for a moment, but soft around the edges like a melting popsicle when he caught her face.

"Are you crying?" His hand came up and he stopped it mid air before it wiped away her tear.

Emma felt her body lean into him and another tear slipped out when his warm palm and always chilly finger tips touched her cheek.

God she'd missed him! While she was bolstering her mother, she'd needed support. He was supportive, or would have been. But he wasn't taking her calls, and she couldn't bring herself to text, "my dad died". Then, it was such old news, she figured he'd have heard from Gemma.

He took his hand away like she was a hot cooktop.

He pushed his hair back off his forehead with the hand probably damp with her tears and bravely changed the subject. "How long you in town for this time? Jetting off to some climate refuge hotspot soon?"

Emma flinched. Oh- he didn't know.

"Un, no, I'm living here." She didn't elaborate, maybe saying it out loud was as hard as texting it. "I was actually just about to head home to check on my mum. The back bathroom was in use, and the cold makes me need to pee." What the fuck was she talking about, he didn't need that information.

His dimple pressed in just a bit and he went to say something, but Emma just couldn't. She couldn't look at him anymore, or tell him about why she lived there, or about the ticket he seemed to have been hurt enough to move on over. She definitely didn't want to see evidence of his movement, especially not his upgrade. "Anyway, nice to see you," the words shot out of her mouth, impresonal and true. "Bye Harry."

"Wait Emma!" She thought she heard, but she just kept going. She'd tell Gemma she was sick.

She nearly was when she saw Harry's girlfriend hugging her closest friend in the living room.

"Oh god."

Luckily, when she got home, her mum was awake and feeling chatty, not blue. Emma focused on her and the special she was watching. Let the warm sound of her mother's once common laughter wrap around her as a blanket. It was more comforting than a cup of tea.

She waited until later to cry herself to sleep.

The next day was Christmas- the first without her father. She dried her rightful tears before she saw her mom, though she would have had all the standing in the world for them and she felt better about them than those she's shed the night before. She knew though that her wet face would cause a cascade event, the first drop in a waterfall, so she dried them up.

They had traditions to get through.

And get through they did. They each wrapped a gift for her father that they left under the tree and held each other right before tucking into a late brunch and preparing a boozy and sweet laden Christmas dinner, Emma contributed the puddings.

They were very much her mother's favorite, and she broke out a scandi recipe she'd enjoyed the last several years.

She Skyped her university friends, they exchanged the small gifts she'd mailed them and them her. She missed them something awful. She missed school horribly, so much she even emailed her advisor. All of her heart hoped to return after the winter break.

Emma thought the feeling of missing something was a bit like a paper cut and losing your keys combined.

Harry called late Christmas Day, just a few minutes shy of Boxing Day. That more than stung, it was a gut punch, or a knife plunge, though she'd never had either.

Emma ignored the call from Harry. What was there to say?

Boxing Day, well, Emma wasn't much of a drinker, but it was basically a tenet of British culture to get obliterated while watching the queen.

For the last several years, Emma had been off her face on Harry. This year she chose savingnon blanc with her mum. Two days, then they'd go back to a dry house. Tradition was tradition, and she couldn't think about the one she'd started and ached all over for.

What a pale imitation of ecstasy drunkenness was, though she supposed they both left a hangover, a residue.

Her bed, when she begged off to it early was warm and fragrant, but it smelled all wrong. No sandalwood or black coffee, not even the mint she'd come to associated with the comfort of love, or something like it.

It was worse, because when she closed her eyes, having seen Harry's someone in person, she could see him snugged up to her, so cozy. It was in their place, their room at the Boat's Head.

It was over, Boxing Day, when she puked.

She had another missed call from Harry. 11:59 Her personal witching hour.

The next day was a little bit better, either because she had her literal hangover to tend, or because she'd ripped the bandaid off her hurt and let the wound air.

"Hiya!" Gemma's voice and face were bright, unlike the gray day.

"Hello." Emma smiled and her voice held it, she held onto it. "You're merry!"

"Yeah, I'm at the pub. Everybody is at the pub," she flashed the phone around so Emma could see the waving swaying people, "we wanted to get you outta the house, you made such an effective Irish exit the other day you've let your people down, we need to see your smile. You feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you." Emma thought about it, there was a pull to the pub. "Um, maybe I can swing over."

It only took a few minutes to throw on jeans and a jumper, not her former favorite. The walk was a little longer.

When she found them, her first comment was "Im not drinking!" Over a grimace.

"Too much wine with old Elizabeth, huh? " Gemma Laughed

"Yes! Did you know my mum has a long pour?" Emma shared with a laugh.

"No, but mine's gotten more heavy on the booze with me lately, they must like the new stages. Daughters as actual friends and drinking partners. Mum is thrilled!" Gemma grinned. "So am I! Harry's a little jealous."

Emma tried to catch her grimace before it stomped across her face. Gemma kept talking and she thought she'd got away with it.

"He wants to be one of the girl's! He came down last night and mum, Camille and I were sharing wine and mum was showing her atrocious pictures. You'd think he'd be mad or embarrassed! He was like, 'Where's my glass?'" Gemma was staring at her while she chuckled.

Emma had less success not responding. Her face was a picture she was sure, a jealous one. And then she heard herself asking, "what's she like?" She gulped down the g word she almost voiced. "Camille?"

Gemma made a funny face, then looked at her again. "Um, she's silly and kinda quiet and I think she's worried my mom will care she's posed nude."

She wouldn't. That wasn't Anne's style. And if she did have an issue, she'd never voice it. She was really big on respecting her kids choices. Even some of the stupider ones Harry had made.

Was she ranked among those now?

"Why do you ask?" The gentleness in a Gemma's voice told Emma she knew more than she was saying.

Emma couldn't explain, she was still in such a tender state, like a fissured piece of glass, she knew she couldn't go over it. "I just hope Harry's happy." It was the only true thing she could say.

And Gemma, bless her just looped her arm through Emma's and said like she was holding a cracked egg. "He is." She left it at that, before she stood, pulling Emma after her. "And we need another drink." Apparently Emma was drinking, she needed it.

They spent another couple hours at the pub and Emma walked home through the soft snow. Her nose was stuffy, and her eyes were leaking, and she was drunk. Least she realized she must be, cuz she was crying. She really hated crying.

She was still weeping under her breath when she got home and found Harry on her doorstoop.

"You're still here?" She boggled. She assumed he'd taken his girlfriend to his big London home Emma had never been to, since she wasn't ever his g word.

"Yeah." He rubbed his hands over his corduroy flares. She'd consider what that might mean, but the pants distracted her. Those were new, must be getting fashion influences from new places, mew people. Those pants were roomy for him. He looked good in them. He looked good, happy.

"Did you need something?" Seeing himwas ripping her guts out and she could barely keep more tears at bay. Her insides were dangerously close to the skin now, tender and exposed. She hoped the distance between them and the weather and, well, maybe his rose colored glasses brought on by loving some other girl, he wouldn't notice her crying.

Over him. At the moment.

"No, I, um," he swallowed. "I thought we might talk." He made those green eyes at her and she hated it. Cuz they were soft and for someone else these days.

"I think we've said it all."

"We haven't said anything, not really, in a year."

"Yeah, well actions over words mate." Good, she was angry. She tried to go around him, into her door. Out of the cold and this situation.

"Emma, wait." He caught her shoulders and her blood froze in her veins but her tears were hot on her cheeks. "I'mso sorry about your dad." He choked up too.

She looked at him and let hurt run down her face, didn't even bother trying to stiffen her upper lip. When he opened his arms, she went to him and cried in a way she really hadn't let herself, into the comfort of his scent, the hurt of his presence.

Emma wasn't sure how long she cried, they wound up siting on the cold stone bench when their knocking knees froze.

"S that why you used the ticket?" He whispered against her hair sometime later.

She nodded. Sniffed up her tears and his pain laced smell.

"Why didn't you call me?"

She shrugged.

"I would have understood. And I would have come, to be with you."

Her tears apparently hadn't run out. She knew that, but she was hurt, by his hurt and his expectation.

She looked up at him. Her lips were so close to his, the outer edge that felt so plush and lovely.

That was a Liberty she didn't have. Maybe never a right she had, like him just expecting her to drop her goals to go to him.

"Where's your girlfriend?" She said the word like the four letters it felt like it was to her.

"Um," he stumbled over the subject change . "She was tired."

"You tell her you were coming to see a girl you used to fuck?"

"What?" He looked at her with a frown and Emma supposed she was being mean, mean but honest. "Don't say it like that. That's not what we were about."

Emma quirked a brow at him. "No?"

"Listen, why are you being like this?" He swallowed and looked like the wronged party when he was the one who assumed the worst of her, then abandoned her, moved on, and showed up, she could only assume, to rub it in her face.

The last year had been the worst of her life, and he'd been part of that. Mostly his absence.

Whoever's fault that was.

"Look, I don't need your pity or your condolences. Or your forgiveness. You just assumed I was taking advantage of you like you didn't know me at all. Which I realized is true apart from knowing what I look like naked, right? Let's be honest Harry? Huh, I'm just the girl you used to fuck over break. Your Christmas bit of fun. Til you found your next model. Who you couldn't wait to come home and show off, right in my face. So if we were more, you're a heartless asshole." She was crying over him now, but half the tears at least were angry and her face must be bright red.

The kicked puppy look on his face was so genuine and felt so false to her she could scream. "Why would I even think you would care if I had a girlfriend or not? If anybody was just the person the other thought of as a holiday fling, it was you about me, Emma." He huffed, took down the finger he'd stood up to point at her. "I tried for more, asked for more?"

"When?" He'd asked for more, how'd she miss that?

"What'd you think the ticket was for? That was me asking you for more, at least more time?"

"I don't have extra time." She countered. Emma supposed that was some mealy mouthed passive way of saying you wanted to spend time with a person at least.

"And I do?" He yelled that before taking a big breath and muttering sorry. "Listen, I know what you're about, and that you are very serious saving the world, but I'm just as busy as you, more, and I would have made time for you."

"Why?" She stood up into his space. "So I could just miss you more, fall more for you and not get to have you in any real way? To torture myself?" And there is was. Emma knew the ache of the first weeks without him, and she'd always counted their brief time together as worth it. Subjecting herself to more just seemed masochistic. "Have more time with you so I have to get over you all over again multiple times a year."

"Who says you would have had to get over me? We could have been together!" Both of their voices had escalated past the bounds of polite disagreement.

"Together in every way except literally?" She threw her hands out at her sides. "What's the point of that?"

"The point?" He huffed. "The point is that I wanted you and you wanted me, and we could have had each other, but you're too busy," he sneered, "and couldn't talk to me."

"I couldn't talk to anyone!" She screamed. "I was supposed to text you that my dad died and I needed to use the ticket that was supposed to be a gift but was more like a curse, to take care of my mom. That my dream was at best on hold while I made sure my mum could get out of bed?" He looked a little slapped. "While you were off what? Being a rockstar? Having a record breaking year? Moving on? Out of spite?!" She didn't want to think that, but she'd wondered. She knew she was giving herself to much credit. "Why you made sure to bring her to Holmes Chapel? You take her to the Boar's Head too? Or just fuck her in your mum's powder room?" The words were explosive, the cadence like charges lighting off each other. Emma felt like a powder keg.

He was shaking his head. "Stop it. No, no, I didn't move on, not until I thought you were done with me."

"Oh, when I needed you and you wouldn't answer my calls?"

He looked at the ground then. When his eyes came up , the lovely green of them was even more vibrant, due to the tears crowding around their ages. "Emma, I'm so sorry about that. I'll never forgive myself."

His sincerity softened her, though the anger she'd wrapped around herself like a coat was all that was keeping her ribs together.

"I'm so sorry, I know the last year has been more than anybody should have to bear, especially alone." He took a big breath. "But Camille, I didn't, it's not," he stumbled over the words like they were glass edges, but Emma had a feeling she was the one who was about to get cut. "Um, she and I just met and, well, we, we get on." That was a kind way to put it. "I wasn't looking for somebody else. But I was lonely and she's," the changes on his face ripped through Emma. "She's lovely. I brought her home, because I wanted mum to meet her." That told Emma everything.

"You love her?" She already knew the answer.

He ran his hand through his locks, avoided eye contact until the last second, "yeah, yeah, I think I might."

Emma was nodding, biting her lip to gatekeep the fresh round of tears threatening. "That's good Harry, I'm," she breathed, "I'm happy for you."

He looked at her then. "Really?"

"Course, I care about you, your happiness." That brought on the tears and he reached for her and she had to throw up her hands to keep him away. "No, no, please don't touch me."

His phone rang, he was the only person she knew who actually kept their ringer on. Well the only person under 50, it made her smile. Then cringe, the weird personal knowledge she had because of how much of an almost they were. From his face, Emma knew it was his actual calling.

"Um," he shady buttoned the call. "I have to go."

"Yeah," was all she could respond with, she already knew that. "Well, have a happy nee year Harry. You sticking around?" God she hoped not. May have to convince her mum to go to London if so.

He shook his head, "Um no, we're going to Paris." Ouch. Emma tried for subtle when she wrapped an arm around herself. "Sorry, I'd like," he always looked so genuine lately, in every interview she'd watched to hurt herself, his heart on his sleeve, in his eyes now. "I'd like to hug you, think you could stomach it?"

Emma nodded and went to him for the barest second and then concentrated on the pressure behind her eyes while he kept her close. "I'm so sorry Emma, for everything. I'd really like to be friends," he'd pulled back to hold her eye line at that.

She nodded, she wasn't sure how she'd handle that, but at best it was a couple phone calls, and no weekends away, they hadn't mentioned that in their middle state, she didn't think it would be to hard to keep him at arms length when they had continents between them most times. "Yeah, ok, friends. You take care of yourself, Harry." Emma was a strong girl, woman now, she could handle some texts and a phone call or so.

He kissed her cheek, a continental affectation she closed her eyes over and turned to go. He was almost out of the gate when he turned back. "I'd never take her to the Boar's Head, by the way, that's our place. I'd never take anybody else there." Before she could even think of a response he looked away quick and started to go. "Take care of yourself, Emma. Happy New Year." That came back to her on the wind.

Blew away like the hold she had on the heart she'd given him last Christmas. At least he was someone special.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #tis the damn season #ttds #chapter 6 #last Christmas

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ejzah · 4 years

Text

A/N: This idea was originally suggested by @mashmaiden and is the next in a series about Deeks at FLETC, but deviates from canon. I put took me a very long time to figure out and I’m still not sure if I am fully happy with it.

In a previous fic, an instructor had asked Deeks to speak on his experience when he was tortured by Sidorov. Since this deals with some events from Descent/Ascension, there is mention of violence, trauma, and PTSD symptoms.

***

A Matter of Experience

Deeks let out a very long breath as he waited for other students to arrive. After a lot of consideration, he had decided to grant Flores’ “offer”. He still absolutely hated the idea, but he knew he was technically doing Flores a favor. Plus, Flores wasn’t wrong. Most of the current candidates had never experienced anything as traumatic as he had.

He hoped they never would.

The night before he’d spent a couple hours going over a rough draft of his presentation. Deeks had also covered some ground rules with Flores. Although he had no control over what questions his classmates would ask, he reserved the right to refuse to answer.

Pulling in another long breath, he closed his eye and rolled his neck a couple of times.

“You ok, Deeks?” Flores asked, actually looking concerned. He had an odd mixture of ruthlessness and deep understanding which didn’t necessarily work well together.

“Yeah, fine. I’m good.” He felt vaguely queasy and restless, but he wasn’t about to tell Flores that. “We never discussed what I should do if no one has questions,” he added. “Do you have a back up lecture?”

“Oh believe me, there’s always questions with this case. We’ll be lucky if we get out on time.” He seemed to realize that he sounded a little insensitive. “Based on what I’ve heard about you, you can handle this Deeks. But if you changed your mind, I won’t judge you.”

That strange feeling of embarrassment returned, but he didn’t have time to evaluate it or respond to Flores as other students started trickling in.

Deeks had purposely chosen a chair to the side and a few rows in where he wouldn’t be too obvious, but could get up without too much trouble. Flores gave them a couple minutes to settle and then walked to the front of the room.

“Good Morning, everyone. I hope you’re all managing your classes alright,” he said. “For today’s class we will be focusing on case study 9.”

He paused as the majority of the class flipped to the appropriate page. Deeks’ pulse pounded faintly in his ears and he swallowed twice, closing his eyes briefly. Even if the details weren’t burned into his memory, he’d reviewed the case, just to be sure he wasn’t caught off guard.

It was surprisingly straightforward, not overly gratuitous and Flores reviewed the details with surprising speed. There was no getting past the pictures though. They were graphic, nauseating. He knew the exact moment everyone saw them and heard someone behind him whisper his name.

When Flores ended the lecture, which was over much faster than Deeks would have liked, he nodded to Deeks and added,

“Now some of you may know that one of your colleagues was involved in this case and he was kind enough to agree to share his experiences with us.” Deeks stood up, joining Flores at the front of the room. “Please welcome Marty Deeks, former LAPD Detective.” Flores gave him what he guessed was supposed to be a supportive pat on the arm and then sat down a few feet away.

It was clear that many of the candidates hadn’t made the connection between him and the battered guy in their text book, but as he glanced around, realized that maybe half the class were watching him with the same strange reverence Omar, Jake, and Charlie had when they first met.

Clearing his throat, he pulled in yet another shallow breath and glanced down at the small stack of notecards in his hand, then stuffed them in his pocket.

“As, uh, Instructor Flores said, I’m Marty Deeks,” he started, pausing to clear his throat again. “But most people just call me Deeks. If any of you have spent more than a few minutes around me, you’ve probably figured out that I have a terrible habit of talking too much.”

A couple people chuckled, but most stayed silent, some looking curious, others intrigued, and a few, mainly Alan, outright suspicious. He’d expected some skepticism since, as usual, he didn’t fit into the mold they expected.

“Like it says in that case study, Agent Hanna and I were captured and held by a Russian arms dealer. They took turns torturing us-“ He swallowed harshly, holding back the shiver that crept up his spine and continued. “to gain information about a colleague who was undercover.

“They had us in separate rooms, but I could still see what they were doing to Agent Hanna. I couldn’t do anything though because I was bound to a chair. I could only watch as they electrocuted him and wait to see what else they had planned for me.”

Before he could continued, Alan raised his hand, his gaze almost defiant and angry as he waited for him to respond.

“Did you have a question?” Deeks asked mildly.

“What was it like?” he said, watching Deeks eagerly, and maybe with a touch of disbelief in his voice as he eyed him. “The case study mentioned that you experienced dental trauma, but it didn’t really go into detail.”

Flores started to intercede from behind him, but Deeks held up a hand, holding him back. If Alan wanted details, he could give him details. He’d avoided the guy as much as possible and put his arrogance and aggressiveness down to immaturity, but now Deeks was truly annoyed.

“No it’s ok.” He smiled tightly at Alan. “One guy shoved this metal device in my mouth so I couldn’t close it. Then Sidorov got out a drill and demanded to know the truth. The whole time I was lying my ass off, trying to keep it together even though I knew he was going to stick that thing in my mouth.”

His breath hitched a little as he felt the phantom pain of the drill bit obliterating his teeth. Someone swore under their breath and Deeks felt perverse satisfaction when Alan squirmed uncomfortably.

Forcing the memories back, he took a couple of slow breaths and then added,

“I ended up with multiple broken teeth, damage to my mandible, and shredded gums-so yeah, dental trauma as they so nicely put it.” Maybe that was going a step too far, but it seemed pointless and Flores had wanted them to know what it was really like. “It took years for me to stop flinching when I heard a drill or to make it through getting my teeth cleaned without almost knocking the hygienist’s lights out. To this day, it’s probably the single most horrific thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Everyone’s eyes were on him, the anticipation and tension almost tangible. A woman-he thought her name was possibly Maria-raised her hand and Deeks nodded for her to speak. Unlike some of her peers, she wasn’t staring at him like he was a particularly interesting soap opera.

“You said it took you years to get over the trauma,” she started a little hesitantly. “Exactly how long did it take?”

“I wish I could tell you that there’s a point when it no longer affects you, but it never really happens,” Deeks said with a gentle smile, sorry he couldn’t give her the answer she so clearly wanted. He saw her face fall and he realized just how young she was and probably pretty horrified at this point. “The memories and dreams and all the other symptoms can lessen over time. They never go away though. That trauma, those scars, they are with you forever.”

“So you’re saying there’s nothing we can do about it?” Another student asked, sounding annoyed and maybe a little scared. “If something like this happens to us, we just live with the trauma for the rest of our lives.”

Deeks shook his head.

“No, there’s a lot you can do. Go to therapy, let the people you love help you, and whatever you do, don’t isolate yourself.” A memory of eating bad takeout with Kensi when he was at his lowest point and added, “Whatever you do, don’t try to face if alone. Believe me, your friends and family will be everything.”

The questions continued for the remainder of the class and as Flores predicted, they went over by 15 minutes. Deeks was completely exhausted and a little shaky, but overall not as much as he had expected. He would probably pay the price for being so explicit about his injuries with a resurgence of nightmares.

“Nice work,” Instructor Flores complimented him as he was packing up his notes and untouched book. “I didn’t expect you to be that...open.”

Deeks grimaced, realizing that he’d basically taken over the class and gone completely off script from what they discussed.

“Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away.”

“No, you got the point across. And that’s what they needed.” Flores patted his arm and nodded his appreciation. “Thank you.”

Deeks left the room, intending to skip lunch and go straight to bed until his next class. Maybe he’d get in a quick call to Kensi. The sound of her voice sounded very appealing and comforting right now. He was about halfway down the hall when someone called out,

“Deeks!” He groaned, recognizing Alan’s distinctive voice and turned as he approached, not up for dealing with him at the moment. He stopped a couple feet from Deeks, eyeing him warily.

“Was Everything you said in there true?” he asked and Deeks rolled his eyes, huffing out an exasperated sigh.

“No, Alan. I just made it up so I could get free implants,” Deeks answered derisively. “Now are you done trying to intimidate me? Talking about the guys who drilled holes in my mouth is a little bit exhausted.”

Alan flinched, but didn’t back down.

“I wasn’t trying to insult you.” He glared at Deeks as though he’d done something wrong.

“So implying that I embellished a case to make myself sound better isn’t an insult?” Alan muttered a fairly creative curse under his breath and then said,

“I’m sorry for what I said the first time we met. I was wrong about you, ok?” He shook his head, jaw clenched like the words were almost painful for him to say. Looking at the ground, he admitted, “Look, I’m struggling with a lot of the courses.”

“And you’re telling this to the guy you hate because...?” Deeks asked, not overly surprised to hear that Alan wasn’t doing well. He’d heard quite a few stories about him clashing with instructors among other things.

“Because I need help and you seem to actually know what you’re doing,” Alan said bluntly, apparently past his embarrassment. “So what do I need to do?”

Deeks blinked at him for a second, resisting the urge to laugh. Even in a moment of crisis, the guy was still making demands.

“Well one thing that I always have to remind myself about is to not let yourself get cocky.“

Alan gave him an incredulous look and shook his head.

“What? That’s your expert advice? Don’t be cocky.”

“A piece of it. It’s easy to get full of yourself. I do it all the time, but there’s always room to grow. New things to learn,” Deeks told him with a shrug.

“What could you possibly have to learn?” Alan asked acerbically. “I’ve seen you in most of these classes and you don’t even break a sweat. It’s freaking annoying.”

Deeks actually did laugh then and nodded.

“I do have a lot of experience. Like you pointed out, I’m the old guy.” Alan didn’t look amused so he sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Look, if you want you can join the study sessions I have with some of other guys. But if you do, you need to lose the attitude because there’s not time for that.”

Alan clenched his jaw, but nodded in apparent agreement.

“I’ll think about it.” With that he turned abruptly, adding a terse, “Thanks.” As he walked away.

Deeks just watched him go, shaking his head, and glanced down at his watch. If he hurried he could maybe just squeeze in a half hour nap and the call to Kensi.

***

A/N: I know this one ends a little abruptly, but I figure I’ll be writing more in this series.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #Deeks at FLETC #trauma #tw: ptsd #angst?#ejzah fanfiction

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years

Text

On The Subject of Love

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 3.3k Warning: Tame. A few curse words and mentions of sex. Summary: Becca coaxes Ethan into talking about his experience with love during their visit to Leland Bloom's yacht.

Author’s Note: this took waaaaay too long to write and i’m still not sure i’m happy with it :/ but thank you @aylamwrites for pre-reading and leaving hilarious comments ❤

________________________________________

The drive to Leland Bloom’s yacht was staid, a direct contrast to the glorious sunshine surrounding the bubble of the sedan. Ethan was navigating the unfamiliar route to the private yacht club with extreme disdain. His ego wanted to resolve this case and finally put an end to this petulant competition with Mass Kenmore Hospital. Sitting in the passenger seat of his car was his favorite accomplice, Becca, calmly staring blankly out the window and still so unsure of his feelings towards her.

She knew she riled him up when she went behind his back to seek out the first high-profile patient, influencer Gwenyth Monroe. Though, in her defense, the man wasn’t actively trying to save the Diagnostics Team from the budgetary chopping block. Ethan Ramsey was always so blinded by his pride and ethics - He did the same with their future as well. But, Becca also knew she stepped over the line this morning when she called him a spoiled child in front of Baz and June at Mr. Bloom’s estate. Though she didn't really regret it because someone had to tell him off, the interaction still left a bad taste in her mouth.

Becca wasn’t too sure where they stood - professionally or romantically. The words Ethan spoke not too long ago in the dark of his office rang through her head: I want to know you as you truly are.

That was a few weeks ago. There he was breaking down their simply professional facade once again. It was a constant tug-of-war with him. Some days Ethan would let the wall crumble by letting her in or grabbing her hand, and others where he’d build it higher than before just to keep the force of Becca at bay. She didn’t realize how sweet of a memory the two of them creating his Pictagram account during that late-night research session would become.

He’s such an old man…

Ethan cut through her reverie, “What are you thinking about?”

With her gaze fixed on the passing trees and her mind still half-stuck in her daydream, she responded without further consideration, “Do you really never want to get married?”

Ethan’s brow furrowed at the random intrusion, needing to think before settling on a response. “Are you still stuck on this?”

The two sometimes-lovers spoke briefly about his views on the subject while working on Gwenyth’s case late into the evening. To Becca it was one of the most important questions in building their not-so-subtle budding relationship - she needed to know if Ethan was worth all the… complications. He spoke about how he didn’t believe in soulmates, unconditional love, and his doubts on marriage as an intuition. He never once spoke about his experience with love.

Looking out the window into the cloudless end of summer day, Becca boldly asked, “Haven’t you ever been in love? Wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone you’ve dated?”

“Oh god, no,” he scoffed with wide pale blue eyes. “I told you, Rookie, I don’t see the point.”

She rolled her disbelieving brown eyes and let the conversation pause there as they pulled up to the dock.

***

After the yacht set sail the doctors waited around the stern in a restive silence for 45 minutes while Mr. Bloom wrapped up his business meeting. Once safely away from the prying eyes of investors and colleagues in the yacht's master bedroom, Ethan and Becca begin to run tests and scans on the deteriorating businessman.

“Mr. Bloom, can I ask you and Caroline a question?” Becca asked as she drew a few samples of blood. “It has nothing to do with your case. Me and my friend here are debating something,” she nodded her head at Ethan’s general direction.

The patient looked between the two with a devious smile, “Sure, swing.”

Becca quickly peered over at Ethan standing at an expensive gold and glass table with the mobile sonogram machine, his arms crossed and waiting for her to enlighten the room with her inquiry.

She shot him a coy smile before turning back to the worldly man and asking, “How did you know you wanted to get married?”

Ethan stifled a surprising cough. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought she’d ask a complete stranger that.

Mr. Bloom smiled as he instantly recalled every moment he has ever spent with his now-wife.

Closing his eyes he recited, “We’ve been business partners for decades - since college, actually. We were married about 11 years ago. I’ve known her my entire adult life and waited until I was almost 50 to tell her how I really felt.”

His eyes opened and found Caroline sitting in the chair by the large bay window immediately. The two looking adoringly at one another for a few seconds, speaking volumes in the language of love. For a moment Becca’s heart panged with hope that she could have that level of fondness with a man - that unconditional and unencumbered attachment that precedes words.

“My recommendation is to tell the other person you have feelings for them from the get-go. It’ll buy you time together. Its - it’s the most precious thing in the world to be with the one you love most.”

The way Leland Bloom spoke about his wife humanized him - he wasn’t a cut-throat businessman with oligarch-like wealth. He was a man who wanted as much time with his loved one as this world would permit, no matter the cost.

“But how did you know she was the one?” Becca quizzed further.

Mr. Bloom looked at Ethan's awkward form first and then to Becca as he asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

Ethan’s attention was focused on watching the images printing, deeply embarrassed by Becca’s brazen question and wanting no part of the conversation. Feeling everyone’s gaze on him he took in the three expectant stares and exclaimed incredulously, “Wha - Of course I have!”

Becca smiled at the old man, “Yes.”

“Do you remember how it felt?” Leland’s eyes bore into Becca’s begging the memories to surface.

She nodded.

Becca peered over at Ethan for a split second, his eyes meeting hers. She could see the curiosity swirling around his dark blue orbs alongside something else. Feeling ashamed for getting caught staring she bit her lip and tore her eyes away from him before she could even try to pinpoint just what the mystery emotion was.

“It’s like that,” Leland reassured. “But you’re constantly drawn to one another. The simplest and meaningless of tasks make you the happiest. You can sit in the same room in your own little world of silence together. Your heart swells when you look at them.” Like before his eyes flashed over to Caroline. “You’re never bored. And you can rely on them. The most telling sign was that I knew I needed her in my life even before I knew I had feelings for her. The intimacy was an added bonus.”

He smiled up at his wife who now stood close by with an affectionate hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“Would you agree, darling?”

She nodded only for him. “I knew he was my person when he’d stand up for me. He wouldn’t let anyone belittle me or my intelligence. He challenged me to be a better person and comforted me when I needed it. He’s the best partner I could ask for.” Caroline’s body shifted to Becca though her eyes never left Leland’s, “Does that help your debate?”

Becca looked over at Ethan who didn’t have an inkling of amusement in his features. “I think you’ve just proved my point, but I'll give him a few minutes to form a rebuttal,” she winked at the couple.

They shared a pleasant laughter at Ethan’s expense.

“Ok, Mr. Bloom, you’re all set,” Becca beamed as they finished their examination. “We’ll give you a call once we have the results from the lab later today.”

With a nod of his head Mr. Bloom replied, “Good evening, doctors.”

Ethan didn’t say a word as they disembarked the vessel.

“So…” she started, expecting him to begin arguing his case on the disillusion of soulmates.

Ethan wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

The walk back to his sedan was stewing in awkward tension under the afternoon raging heat. More than halfway back to the car Becca had just come to accept the fact that Ethan wasn’t going to engage in their little intellectual tiff when he spoke with a critical eye;

“How many people have you presumably been in love with?”

She certainly didn’t expect that to be his first rebuttal. It almost made Becca drop the medical bag she was holding. Almost.

She simply responded, “Two. You?”

Over her shoulder she saw Ethan walking straight and stoically, eyes fixed ahead. He was ever so expertly guarded and displaying no telling emotions.

“Three, maybe,” he shrugged, not giving it a second thought.

“Maybe?”

“I don’t think teenage relationships could really count as love.”

“So we won’t count it,” Becca agreed with a small nod. “My number stands at 2.”

They made it to the car and Ethan popped the truck for them to put the gear. He fussed with the equipment, taking slightly longer than necessary to make sure the bag with the blood samples were safe and secure. Becca eyed him carefully from the sidelines expectantly.

With a loud thunk of the trunk and eyes glued to the license plate, he hesitated, “One.”

“Tell me about her.” Becca demanded sweetly as she moved to open the passenger side door. “Or I can go first?”

“Please,” he motioned for her to continue as they settled into his sedan.

Becca took a cleansing breath as she buckled herself in for the journey.

“It was my first year of undergrad. His name was Mack.” Becca could almost hear the roll of Ethan’s eyes as she stared out her window. “We dated for a year and broke up because my workload got intense and I couldn't go out much.” She took a pause as she remembered all those meaningful moments that came to define her adult-self. “He was a liberal arts major, really outgoing. He brought me out of my shell and taught me to be the person I am today. I’m really thankful for him, but more grateful that it didn’t work. I loved him, but I know now I definitely wasn’t in love with him. Looking back I don't even know how we would have made anything work.” Becca chuckled to herself. “He works in television now.”

There was a pause before she continued onto the second romantic love she’s ever experienced. Part of her hoped Ethan would jump in with an antidote.

Still, he kept his eyes on the road ahead.

“My last relationship was during med school. He was something else,” Becca continued with a vibrant smile. “We had great chemistry and a good time together.”

The affection in her voice for the nameless man instinctively had Ethan gripping at the wheel just tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Medical school wasn’t more than two years in her past, still enough time for the exes to find their way back to one another…

“We thought we were supposed to be together because that’s what you’re told as a kid - go to school, find your soulmate, get that good job, get married and have babies. We groomed each other to be all that. But the pressure of trying to be someone’s perfect person was too much. He went to California and I went to Boston. I don’t know what he’s up to today.”

Her smile faltered as she wordlessly recalled the day she and Thomas Miller III walked out of one another’s life for good. Ethan would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little relieved to know her break up was not amicable.

“Your turn.”

Becca didn’t have the strength to turn and face him, the still-raw memories were playing out against the glass of the rear-view mirror and she couldn’t banish them just yet.

Ethan began to recite his past relationship like a bulleted list, checking off any sort of pertinent information; “It was for nearly 10 months. During medical school. She was gracious and brilliant. We never saw much of each other but when we did we had the most riveting medical debates. It was good fun.”

“That’s it?” Becca questioned in astonishment. Her brows were furrowed as she tried to keep her mouth from hanging open. How could someone look back on their first love with such displeasure? Even if it ended horribly the feeling of being in love is magical... and shouldn’t that in itself be celebrated?

He nodded.

Becca folded her arms across her chest and bit her lip as she pondered his words.

With the slightest scoff Becca boldly concluded, “I don’t think you were in love.”

Ethan was taken aback, clenching his jaw tightly in blatant refusal of conveying his surprise at her account of what happened with his heart while she was still in grade school. “How would you know?” he retorted.

“Because if you were you’d see each other all the time,” she responded simply and with a jovial lightness - like she’d cracked an undefined code. “You’d forgo sleep to spend some time together. You’d talk about your insecurities, your family, your dreams of the future. Not just medicine and cases.”

“You’re romanticising it.”

That one phrase stirred something up deep inside Becca. Who was he to tell her those things didn’t matter in a relationship? Those are the things they talk about and she… she wouldn’t admit to it. With that one romantic phrase they dove back into the quarrel Ethan so desperately didn’t want to be having.

Undeterred by consequences she countered, “How often did you have sex?”

“Excuse me.”

“You heard me,” she challenged.

Ethan let out a long breath of air. They were stuck together for at least another 25 minutes and there wasn’t a single thing he could say to dodge his way out of this one. Although he didn’t like the fact, they both were acutely aware that Rebecca is the only person who could ever ask him an impudent question. She had earned that right that night he crossed the line and they ruined one another in the most pleasurable of ways.

“Once, maybe twice a month, I think.”

“Months!?” Becca practically jumped out of her seat. Her head whipped around to face him.

Ethan hadn’t moved from the upright position and tight grip on the steering wheel she noted when they began their journey back to Edenbrook. The only thing that was running through Becca’s mind as she gawked at the admirable DNA of the man beside her was: How?

“It was a long time ago,” Ethan said, still completely unflappable. “I can’t remember correctly.”

“I was lucky to have sex twice a week.” Gosh, there were so many questions fluttering around Becca’s mind that she just couldn’t find the right words to articulate how unfathomable his confession seemed.

She watched as he raised an eyebrow, “You had other priorities.”

“No,” she stopped him right there with a point of her finger. “I had the same education as you. In between classes, assignments and reading your entire body of work I found time to find time.”

The corner of Ethan’s lip twitched when she mentioned her devotion to his life’s work.

Becca couldn’t believe he dared question her priorities - he read her application, he knows just how diligent and qualified she is.

She wanted to continue arguing but knew it was futile. Instead she asked another innocent question, “How many relationships have you been in since her?”

“Hurm, one,” Ethan grumbled, “Harper.” He paused to look at Becca out the corner of his eye for any sort of reaction. She gave him no ill indications - Her alert brown eyes were on him and brows rose high, awaiting further explanation. The two have had a quick quip on his history with the surgeon, but nothing past hearsay. “We’ve been on and off since residency,” he told her once more. “Now can we stop talking about this?”

Becca conceded, settling back into the shiny black leather. “I can’t believe you dated Harper,” she mused as she played with her seatbelt strap, “You two are so…”

“Different?” Ethan finished for her. “We actually have a lot of the same interests.”

“Intense,” Becca grinned as she finished her train of thought. “But I'm glad you got along.”

“We didn’t.”

If she wasn’t confused by the attendings’ relationship before she sure as hell was now. “Wha- How? You just said you have a lot in common.”

“Having similar interests and getting along are not mutually exclusive, Doctor,” Ethan smirked.

With a slack jaw and eyes trained on him once more, Becca all but demanded, “Explain please.”

“We were two people at the top of our respective classes,” he began. “Medical journal leeches were pitching us again and again. Everyone was pushing us together - a power couple, if you will.”

“The pride of Edenbrook,” she muttered in understanding.

Ethan nodded, “Pretty much.”

“Did Naveen orchestrate your coupling?” she asked. “He loves a good gossip story.”

Ethan shook his head once, “Naveen just wants me to be happy. At that moment he thought she’d make me happy.”

Becca let his words settle amongst them. She shouldn’t feel unsettled by his honesty, yet she did. There were too many comparable variables coming to light today.

Becca chewed on her bottom lip for a few pensive seconds before asking the fated question; “Did you like her?”

As soon as the words fell off her tongue she shut her eyes. She didn't want to see the damage the words could cause, and yet her body craved the answer.

“I had an affinity for her, if that’s what you mean,” he asked but didn’t give her the chance to clarify. “We had the same interests; both of us very career-orientated. Ultimately that’s what got in the way.” He paused for a moment, thinking carefully about his next words. He said them slowly and a decibel quieter than the last, “And that I didn’t have highly romantic feelings for her.” Just then Becca’s eyes shot open, fixed at his loosened grip of the steering wheel. “I still have a lot of respect and admiration for her.”

A small smile crept up on Rebecca. Those words alone held all she needed to know - Harper Emery never was and never will be a contender for Ethan’s heart.

“Then why do it?”

He shrugged as his features settled back into their default stoicism, “It was the right thing to do. If we didn’t… people would spend the rest of our lives forcing us together.”

She cocked an eyebrow, “So your relationship was a PR stunt…?”

“Absolutely not. I’m not a low-life, Becca.” He took pure offense that she thought he would do anything without a saturation of intention. “We tried because it seemed right. It seemed… inevitable... to try.”

“Huh, ok.”

He used her words against her. ‘Inevitable’ was what they were. Does he feel the same way about their relationship that he felt about Harper? Surely he didn’t, but she’d have no way to know. Ethan Ramsey kept pushing her away, and yet years ago he refused to wait and chose to explore those ineludible feelings with someone else.

Was Harper the reason we aren’t together, since he’s done the whole ‘inevitable’ tango before? She speculated.

Ethan’s next comment broke through her trance, “Aside from those disasters called relationships I have spent time with a few other women. You can rest assured I’m not completely incapable of intimacy.”

“I know you’re not a robot, Ethan,” she lamented. I’m happy to be one of those women.

Becca was glad he opened up to her, and for their intimacy all those months ago. Though, the gnawing of how many other women Ethan Ramsey had taken to bed in the days without her or Harper Emery plagued her mind. She wanted to press further but knew not to - she pushed her luck too much for one day.

_____________________________________

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#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x harper #choices oph2 #oph series #oph ff #choices fanfic #ohsy

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oliverstarked · 4 years

Text

chase the light

[R, 2.3k words, pure fluff] read on ao3

“I’m in love with you,” Buck tells Eddie, like it’s a fundamental truth of the universe, the thing that keeps the stars in the sky and the ocean tides anchored to the moon.

And Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that.

“What?” he rasps, like maybe he misheard. His head is spinning. He’s got a sleeping Christopher in his arms and is halfway out of Buck’s apartment having spent an evening stuffing his face with tacos and losing spectacularly at Mario Kart. All he’d said was ‘see you later’, and then Buck had to go and say that.

Buck smiles, soft and uncertain, like he hasn’t just tipped Eddie’s world upside down.

“I used to be scared to even think it,” he tells Eddie, in that earnest and honest way of his. “I’m not anymore. And I’ll say it as many times as you need until you’re ready to hear it.”

Eddie just stares at him.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Buck says, not unkindly, and then shuts the door in his face.

Eddie drives home on autopilot. He tucks Christopher in, reads a page and a half of a story when Chris tiredly demands it but can’t stay awake to hear it, uses the bathroom, strips down to his boxers, and collapses into bed, where he stares at his ceiling and replays what Buck said over and over and over in his head.

It’s not like Eddie didn’t know, on some level, that what he has with Buck surpasses just friendship. He’s felt too many times the overwhelming fear and grief that comes with Buck being too close to death to pretend like it’s all platonic.

But the swaying into each other’s space, testing boundaries, and innuendo-based teasing could all easily be chalked up to a crush or innocent flirting. Eddie has excused his own behavior that way more times than he count. It’s not like they’ve ever actually pushed things further.

Except then Eddie thinks about when he was in the hospital a few weeks ago, about how Buck wouldn’t let go of his hand the whole way in the ambulance, or when the doctors were trying to tend to him, even though his knuckles were crusted with mud, dirt caught under his fingernails, an icy chill under his skin. He thinks about Buck eventually falling asleep with his head on the bed, Eddie’s entire arm trapped underneath him. Buck had looked so exhausted, yet Eddie was the one who’d fought his way out from underground.

He remembers the way Buck had taken him home after, collected Chris from Abuela’s and scooped him into bed next to Eddie, layering blankets over the two of them and touching Eddie’s forehead as he fell asleep. He definitely remembers the next morning, unaware Buck had crashed on the couch until he woke to the smell of bacon and a blinding smile.

So maybe Eddie thinks about it, lying there in bed. And maybe he thinks about getting to touch Buck, or kiss him, or hold his hand — things he’s never allowed himself to imagine could actually happen but are now within arm’s reach.

But he knows himself, and he’s not good at relationships. He loved Shannon so much but he still joined the army to get away from her and his unborn child. Even when she came back into their lives he wasn’t good enough, couldn’t be what she needed him to be. He wants so badly to be better, to teach Christopher that it’s okay to feel and cry and talk about things, but he can never seem to take his own advice. The words just get jammed up in his throat. He’s a closed book, and the story isn’t even worth reading.

A dull buzz from his phone makes him tense up, because it’s nearly midnight and there’s only one person who’d text him this late.

From: Buck 11:37pm not gonna apologize but do wanna make sure you’re not freaking out too bad! remember to use your words not your fists

And Eddie can’t help but choke on a laugh, because even now Buck is checking in on him. They both know that normally Buck is the one Eddie would go to about something like this, and here he is still trying to be that person. But Eddie doesn’t know how to reply. What does he say? That yeah, he is freaking out? That maybe he’s not freaking out enough? That they should talk properly about all this because there’s more to consider than just feelings , there’s Chris and their jobs. That in the end none of that matters because all he really wants to do is climb Buck like a tree?

He can’t say any of that.

Sent to: Buck 11:44pm I’m ok I think. I’ll come over tomorrow after I’ve dropped C at school. We’ll talk?

Eddie presses send. Then, before he can doubt himself, he taps out:

Don’t want to hurt you.

He realizes how it sounds as soon as it’s gone, like he’s planning on letting Buck down gently. And maybe he is, Eddie doesn’t fucking know. But what he’d meant is that he’ll only end up hurting Buck the way he hurt Shannon, the way he hurt his parents when he left Texas, the way he hurt Christopher when he reenlisted.

From: Buck 11:46pm you won’t

Eddie huffs out a breath that feels a little shaky. He rests his phone on his chest and closes his eyes. A tentative hope blossoms in the small spaces between his ribcage, wraps its tendrils around his heart and squeezes and he slowly falls asleep between one maybe and the next.

Things are a little harder in the cold light of day. Chris notices something is off during their morning routine but he just gives Eddie a side-eyed look that is way too grown up for a nine-year-old. When they get to school Eddie kills the engine and twists in his seat, bites his lip and blurts out, “How would you feel if Buck was around a bit more?”

Chris lights up as he always does at Buck’s name and really, stupid fucking question Edmundo.

“He’s already around a lot,” Chris says, matter of fact, “how much more are we talking?”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. “That’s a good point. Maybe, more sleepovers? But instead of on the couch, Buck might share my bed.”

Even saying it aloud sends a shiver down Eddie’s spine. He feels his face heat up and wills Christopher not to notice.

“Carla says we have to find things that make us happy and hold them really tightly,” Chris explains haltingly. His arm comes out and thwacks uncoordinatedly into Eddie’s, so Eddie gently takes his hand and rubs his thumb over the tight muscles in Christopher’s little fingers out of long-standing habit. “Buck is your happy thing, Daddy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Yeah, maybe he is. Hey, how’d you get so clever, huh? You tryna outsmart your dad?”

A boisterous laugh escapes Chris and it’s infectious, leaves Eddie still grinning when he gets back to the truck after saying goodbye. His phone beeps as he’s buckling his seatbelt and his stomach swoops as he picks it up.

From: Buck 8:04am you still coming over? I got coffee and bear claws from that place you like

Eddie replies to say that he’s on his way then lurches out of the parking lot into the tangled knot of LA traffic. It takes him forever to get to Buck’s and his nerves only increase with each mile until his knee is jumping and he’s practically sweating through his shirt. Which is dumb because this is Buck . He knows Eddie better than anyone, he’s not gonna expect some poetic outpouring of love from him.

Although there’s a brave part of Eddie that wants to try anyway.

By some goddamn miracle he manages to pull himself together by the time he reaches Buck’s apartment. Usually he lets himself right in but today he knocks, because this feels important. When the door swings open, Buck grins at him. He’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, hair soft and ruffled. He looks stupid hot. Eddie lets himself think that and feels no regret about it because he’s sure Buck has done it on purpose.

“Hey,” Buck says, a little too loudly. It’s only because Eddie can see right through him that he spots the hint of apprehension there. “I, uh, wasn’t actually sure if you’d come.”

Truthfully, Eddie tells him, “I’ll always come, Buck. Doesn’t matter what’s going on between us, you know that.”

A little guiltily, he thinks of the time during the lawsuit when that wasn’t really the case. He wasn’t there for Buck then, not like he should have been. And he didn’t let Buck see how much he was hurting, either. But he likes to think they’ve learned from that. Eddie’s not the same man he was then.

Buck reaches behind Eddie to push the door closed, bounces a little on the balls of his feet like he does when he’s anxious and heads into the kitchen where there’s a pastry box and two cardboard coffee cups on the counter. “Well, I figured coffee would sweeten the deal,” he says, holding one of the cups out for Eddie.

“The deal being, what? You? ” Eddie asks with a smirk.

“I know, it’s pretty sweet already,” Buck winks, and Eddie laughs despite himself. He could melt in relief at how uncomplicated this is, how comfortable he instinctively feels around Buck.

Eddie takes the coffee cup only to place it back down on the counter. He takes a step closer to lessen the distance between them.

“Tell me again,” he says quietly.

Buck’s smile gentles. “Eddie. I’m in love with you.”

And maybe, just maybe, Eddie could get used to hearing that. He takes another step, until he’s so close he can feel Buck’s chest rise with each inhale. From there it’s easy to lean in until their mouths brush.

Buck tastes faintly like toothpaste, his lips a little chapped, and his smile becomes so wide that it breaks the kiss. A lump forms in Eddie’s throat at the look on Buck’s face; wide-eyed wonder and delight. Like he can’t believe he gets to have this. And Eddie wants to give it to him, he really does, but he swallows and places a hand on Buck’s chest.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses, voice quiet in the air between them. “I want this with you, Buck, I really do. But I’m—”

“Scared?” Buck interrupts. He makes a face. “Me too. But we have each other’s backs, right? So I’m diving in. Head first. ‘Cause… I think this could be really good, Eddie.”

Whatever scrap of hesitation Eddie had left dissolves in the face of Buck’s words and Eddie crashes into him, kissing him hard. He grips Buck’s waist, skin warm and solid beneath his palms, moans a little when Buck hauls him closer and places his hand on the back of Eddie’s neck, stroking his hair there.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck laughs between kisses and graceless footsteps as they fall over each other trying to get upstairs while also removing their clothes.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck whispers as they tumble onto the bed, lips pressed desperately against Eddie’s jaw, collarbone, navel, thighs — hickeys blooming to life under his touch. Eddie gasps, hand in Buck’s hair, urges him on.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck pants into his mouth, arms bracketed either side of Eddie’s head as they rock against each other, Eddie’s fingers digging into Buck’s back, feeling the smooth slide of muscles under skin as Buck jerks his hips forward and they both groan.

And, a little while later, “I’m so in love with you,” Buck sighs, as his release stripes Eddie’s trembling stomach, hot and tacky, and Eddie follows straight after with a string of fierce curses and the overwhelming sensation that everything has fallen perfectly into place.

They kiss and kiss in the aftermath as they slowly come back down to earth. Eddie’s knees feel weak and his lips swollen. Eventually Buck smirks at him and says, “We are too damn good at that not to do that again. Lots.”

Eddie chuckles and shifts them so that Buck can rest his head on his shoulder. He presses his nose into Buck’s hair, loosely draping an arm around him. Buck sprawls out, inordinately pleased with himself as always, leg and arm flopping over Eddie and effectively pinning him to the mattress.

“Hey,” Buck says.

“Yeah?”

“Did I mention that I’m crazy in love with you?”

“Buck…” Eddie groans, even as his lips twitch and his face heats.

“I can’t help it,” Buck laughs. “The floodgates have opened, man. Get used to it.”

All Eddie wants in that moment is to say it back as quickly and confidently as Buck says it. Because he does feel it, so wildly and completely that he thinks it could kill him one day.

“I feel,” he starts slowly, deliberately, “more for you than I have for anyone, ever , apart from Chris. I don’t know what the right words are for how much I love you.”

Buck’s breath catches and he kisses Eddie’s chest once, twice, three times before he says lightly, “Pretty good words right there.”

They should get up. They’re sticky and stink of sex and need a shower. There’s cold coffee sitting in the kitchen and Eddie’s got errands he needs to run. But right now, none of that seems as important as Buck kissing him back into the pillows and whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Eddie decides everything else can wait.

#buddiefic #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck/eddie #fluff #911 fox #911fic #*fic

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verstappenfan · 3 years

Text

The scar on my right palm

People often ask me how I got the scar on my right palm. It usually happens when I go to shake hands with people or just accidentally show them the palm of my hand. They look at my hand and say something along the lines of: “What’s that? Let me grab your hand real quick and put it right up to my eye so I can stare at that weird line on your hand. Dude, is that a scar? How did you get a scar there? That is weird my guy.”

Not the biggest fan, but I can’t really help it. Scars fade, but they never go away completely, they are always there whether you like it or not. So people are free to stare and poke and prod because that is their god-given right, apparently. I probably wouldn’t be that different if I hadn’t had my scar if I am being honest. Everyone is curious and constantly seeking information about each other. And anyway, how many people do you know that have a scar on their right palm?

The healing process of a scar goes as follows: Right after the scar has been made the inflammatory process begins, this usually lasts only for a few days. During this stage, the bleeding will stop and our best friends, the white blood cells, will come running as fast as they can and fight any nasty infection you might have. The scar at this point will look red and swollen. Afterwards, the proliferative stage takes place and lasts for three to four weeks. During this stage, fibroblasts (let’s call them skin and tissue creators) gather at the site of the injury just like people would gather at the sight of a violent murder. These fibroblasts will then create a thing called “Collagen”. The collagen strengthens your wound and pulls the edges of said wound closer together. At the same time, tiny blood vessels are formed to aid the healing process. At this stage the scar will become thicker and uncomfortable, many people usually worry at this stage because the scar looks worse, but there isn’t any need to, it is simply a part of the healing process. Lastly, the remodelling stage can begin. This stage can take anywhere from several weeks to many years to finish, depending on how bad the scar is. The scar will go from thick and red to thin and white, barely noticeable. But don’t worry, it will still be there, it will never go away.

But you might ask, “How did you get this scar then? And what was the point of telling us the healing process of a scar?” For your second question, the answer is simple. The more you know the better, right? I gave you information for free, be grateful. For your first question though, that is a bit of a story if I am honest. See I had this friend, we will call him Kyle, short for Kyloffer.

Kyle was my first real friend, and by that I mean someone I actually wanted to hang out with, not just some classmate you pretend you are friends with for about four hours while you smash your toy trucks together at terminal velocity. Someone you can actually talk to and feel like they aren’t judging you. Kyle felt the same way about me, friends forever and all that jazz.

But you see, back when I was a little smaller, let’s say around fourteen or fifteen, Kyle told me he was moving away during the summer. His parents had got a new job somewhere, so they had to move, as it would be much easier for the parents to live closer to their work. Besides, you can just change school like you change the background of your phone without having too big of an impact on your life, right? But I shouldn’t talk, mommy and daddy know best.

Kyle and I would still be able to talk, of course, but it would be over the phone, and I don’t know if you know this, but hearing someone’s voice and seeing them in person can’t really be compared when you actually think about it, no matter what people try to tell you. So, fearing that we might somehow lose contact, we decided to do something drastic! Now, now, calm down, we didn’t create a suicide pact where we both would jump in front of a train. We did something less drastic, but it was still a pact, a blood pact. We had heard about people being bonded forever with the help of blood pacts, so we decided to do one.

We met up one evening with two knives, we had to be a bit sneaky with them because two teenagers with kitchen knives just walking around would arouse no suspicion at all. We went into the forest and walked in as far as we could without getting lost, so about twenty meters off the path basically. We took out our knives and looked each other in the eye. No, before you ask, there was no romantic or sexual tension in the air, thanks for asking.

We placed the knives on our palms, let the sharp end pierce our skin like it was butter, and grabbed each other’s hands with a firm grip. Any businessman would have hired us on the spot, trust me. We sat there for a few minutes, not really knowing when to stop. We stopped when we heard someone coming along the path. We got scared for a second because what would a person think about two teenage boys with blood on their hands and knives on the ground. Thankfully, it was just a jogger with her dog that ran past without a second look.

We laughed about it when she was out of earshot. We decided that the best way to walk home was with our bloody hand in our pocket. We promised each other we wouldn’t wash away the blood from our hand until the morning, so it really worked or some dumb thing we made up on the spot to make a ritual that we just did somehow actually work.

A scar never leaves you, it may fade with time, but it is always there. Just on your body, sitting there, telling you it will never leave you. You could say a scar can be your best friend, it is always there through your highs, but also your lows. Always remaining by your side until the day you die, and even then it stays until you decompose enough for it to finally not exist anymore. It is a soothing thought actually, that something will be with you when you die.

But a friendship can also fade with time, but unlike a scar, it can go away. Kyle and I talked all of that summer, even hung out for a week when my parents decided to take a mini-holiday in their city. We showed each other our scars and how they were still there. Just resting on our palms.

We started talking less and less when school actually started, we had always talked about how we would study the same thing, but halfway through his first year away from me, he started talking about how he wanted to do other things. I was okay with this, of course, people don’t need to do everything I want them to do. That would be selfish and egotistical to think everyone should revolve around me. But I still felt a bit hurt.

He met some other friends, the good kind. The kind I would probably like if I got the chance to interact with them. He started hanging out with his other friends more and more and spent less time talking to me. He often made up excuses like “Homework is overloading me”, “I promised -insert name here- I would hang out with them” and “Dude I just have a lot going on okay?”

Every time the excuses got more and more that he didn’t have enough time any more. I was okay with this, of course, people don’t need to do some of the things I want them to do. That would be controlling and selfish and egotistical. The world should not revolve around me, Kyle shouldn’t have to make his life revolve around our phone calls. But I still felt a bit hurt.

We started talking about once a month, it was supposed to be more, but sometimes he didn’t pick up the phone. When I got my driver’s license I asked if I should come over that summer so we could hang out, like the good old times. He said that he wasn’t sure if he would have time, the summer holidays are so short and all, right? But a few days into it, he called me for the first time in a long while (I had been calling for a while, not the other way around). He said that I should come over, it would be nice to reminisce.

So I got in my car and I drove through the hours and kilometres it would take to get there. When I finally got there he welcomed me in. We sat and he offered me a beer, I thought that was weird as he had never liked beer before. People change I suppose. I declined his offer and we just sat there. I asked him about the last few weeks and he did the same in return. He seemed to be mostly just using my questions and letting me make up new ones to keep the conversation going. I finally got around to asking him about his scar.

I will never forget his reaction, it pains me to this day whenever I think about it. It actually hurts to just think about it. He said “Scar?” Then he paused for a few seconds before getting hit with a realization as I was hit with a wall of something I can not describe in words, it was like my lungs had collapsed, my eyes began to water and my fingers twitched. “Oh yeah, sorry, yeah the scar is still there. Sorry, I forgot about it.” I simply responded that it wasn’t a big deal. I looked at my clock. I said, “Oh look at the time”. I looked up at him and said I had to go. He just stared at me confused, I had only been there for an hour. I left without saying a word, he followed me out to the driveway. He must have realized what he did wrong because he started apologizing for forgetting the scar, I simply said it was OK, no big deal. He then changed his answer when I opened the car door. He started saying that it was a long time ago, it was a childish thing, it wasn’t that big of a deal, I shouldn’t be so upset about it. I agree, I shouldn’t be so upset about it.

I slammed the car door and drove away, holding back the floodgates the best I could. In the safety of my home, I fell apart. Scars are always there, always a part of you. They will always remain by your side no matter if you are at the top of your game or have just hit rock bottom. Scars are there when you are sad, scars are there when you are happy. Scars are your closest friend.

When people ask me why I have a scar on my right palm, I simply respond with: “Oh yeah, as a child I was stupid and tried to catch a falling knife with my hand. Stupid. Little. Me.”

#writeblr #writing #original writing #fiction #short story #VerstappenFan Writing

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j-elaine-hyde · 4 years

Text

The Bean Chronicles: Part 17

Henry Cavill / Reader

With all of the chaos that had been happening you had completely forgotten that Christmas was only two weeks away. You had happily agreed to fly back to London with Henry. Happily because you knew he only had a week of filming before being off for the holidays, and you were excited to spend that time together.

However, now more than ever you were stressing about meeting his family. Henry had gently reminded you that all of them would be getting together at his parents house. All five brothers. You had grilled Henry about his family, and enjoyed the stories about all of them. It lessened your fear slightly, feeling you like already knew them. Coping with Henry’s busy filming schedule you spent your time decorating the house and getting all of your Christmas shopping done, despite Henry telling you you didn’t have to buy his family gifts.

You were sitting on the floor in the living room wrapping presents. Kal sat next to you on one side, panting as he eyed the pizza on the table behind you. You were binge watching episodes of Absolutely Fabulous when Henry finally got home from set.

“There’s my girl.... hello my love, what are you two up to?” He stood there with a smile and his hands on his hips as he surveyed the room.

“Kal and I are wrapping presents.”

“He’s a very good helper. I see he’s also guarding that pizza... he’s clearly very interested in the safety of that delicious looking crap.”

“Do you want me to heat some up for you? Don’t knock that crap honey, it’s super tasty. But I didn’t make any dinner..... so that’s whatcha get.”

“Why are there so many presents darling? Surely these aren’t all for Kal....” he gave you a stern look trying his best to hide the knowing smile that was quickly forming.

“Ok so I might have gone a little overboard with the presents for your family.... but I want them to like me.”

Henry scoffed as he grabbed a piece of pizza and sat down on the sofa.

“Darling they’re going to love you.” He said through a mouthful.

“I hope so. But a little bribing never hurt.” You finished wrapping another gift and slid it with the rest of the pile of brightly wrapped gifts under the tree. You stood up and perched on Henry’s lap.

“They’re going to love you. The house looks amazing darling. I love that you put up a tree. It actually looks like a proper home as opposed to a bachelor pad. My mum will love that you did this.”

You kissed his nose before standing up. He reached out and smacked your ass before grabbing another slice of pizza and settling into the sofa. Kal joined him, hoping for a bite.

—

You had just finished getting dressed and doing your hair and makeup. You wanted to surprise Henry with a hot dinner and a beautiful girlfriend after a long day of filming. You were about to head out and run some errands when there was a knock on the door.

Kal barked and took off down the hall. You hesitated, a nervous pang struck your chest, putting a lump in your throat. With another knock you jumped and rushed to the door.

“Hellooooo! Y/n? It’s Marianne! Henry’s mother...” She called through the door.

All of a sudden an entirely different nervous energy filled you as you quickly opened the door.

“I’m so sorry! Hello, come in!” You swallowed hard and smiled nervously.

“Oh! Well... you certainly are breath taking. You’re even more beautiful in person! No wonder my son is so taken with you...”

You blushed and smiled. “Thank you.”

She looked around the house at the Christmas decorations you had put up with an approving smile, “I’m sorry to just pop by... I know my darling boy is away working, but I was dying to meet you... and I thought it might be easier coming over for Christmas if you had more than one familiar face there.”

“That’s awfully sweet of you. Thank you. Can I take your coat? Would you like to come in for some tea?”

“I’d love to. I can hang my coat deary, but I’ll let you get the tea.”

You had never liked English tea. But you were never so grateful that Henry had taught you how to prepare and serve real English tea as you were now.

Henry’s mom had gone into the living room and sat down. She was admiring your tree when you came in carrying a tea set on a tray.

“You’ve made this house a home, my dear. I wasn’t sure if that would ever happen. I’m very grateful my son has you.”

“Thank you. I’m lucky to have him.” You handed her a cup of tea, “I don’t know what I’d do without him honestly.”

“It definitely hasn’t been an easy year for you, has it?” She smiled softly and gave you that “poor thing” look mother’s do when they want to hug you.

“That’s putting it lightly. I was hoping the insanity had managed to escape your attention.” You got choked up. Embarrassment written across your face. Henry’s mom had let you know without a word that she hadn’t missed a headline.

“They were all so wildly dramatic... and of course with our Henry’s name in them, we couldn’t help but take notice. He’s always been such a private person...”

You sat there, staring at the floor, biting your lip. A small silent stream of tears rolled down your cheeks as you tried to wipe them away unnoticed.

“I’m sorry dear. I didn’t mean to upset you. We don’t hold anything against you. We’ve talked to Henry about all of it, we know what you went through. This wasn’t your fault....”

You forced a smile, but couldn’t force a word.

“I’m terribly sorry, by the way, for your loss. I can’t even imagine... I’m so sorry.”

“Doctors said theres still hope. They didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t...” you took in a sharp stuttered deep breath, “anyway.”

Henry’s mom got up and hugged you. One of those good hugs only a mom can give.

—

The two of you had talked for hours before realizing the time. Henry’s mother hugged you tightly before she left, asking you to go to lunch later that week. You absolutely adored her, and were grateful she had came over.

You were finishing dinner and setting it up in the dining room when you heard Henry arrive home.

“Babe?” He called from the living room.

“Dining room!” You hollered back.

He walked in to see the beautiful candlelit dinner you had spent hours preparing.

“You’re so incredible. I’m starving.” He walked over and kissed you before sitting down at the table.

You smiled and took your seat at the table across from him, “How was your day hon?”

He dug in to his food, pausing with a smile at his first mouthful. “It wasn’t bad. Stunts were a little intense today, but you know what they say, when you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life.” He winked at you before shoveling in another bite. “I hear you had a visitor today....” he looked up at you with a curious, albeit nervous look.

“Yeah! Your mom came by today.” You took a slow sip of your wine.

He raised his eyebrows at you, fork halfway to his mouth, “well?”

“Your mom is amazing. I completely love her. She’s great.”

He relaxed and continued eating.

“I’m really happy she came by... I hope the report you got was a good one.”

“Glowing reviews. She absolutely adores you.” He thought about his statement for a minute, smiling to himself, before megawatt smiling at you. “She said she was here for a few hours!”

“We completely lost track of time. I had such a good time with her. She gives really good hugs.”

Henry jerked his head up from his plate, “She hugged you?”

With a confused look you laughed, “a few times...”

“Wow.... I mean, she raved about you. How gorgeous you were, and smart and sweet... but she didn’t say she hugged you. That’s a really big deal. I don’t even think she hugs Simon’s wife...” a grin spread across his face.

You ate a little bit more before excusing yourself from the table. “I’ll be back in just a sec.”

You rushed down the hallway into the bedroom. Finding the bag of lingerie right where you left it, you pulled out a red lacy, strappy number and made quick work of putting it on. You adjusted the red stockings and clasped them onto the garter and slid on your favorite pair of red Louboutins.

“Babe?” Henry called you.

“Coming! I’ll be right there!”

Sauntering down the hallway you walked into the dining room, “Care for dessert?” You struck a pose leaning against the doorway, hip cocked out, hand in your hair.

“Here she is!”

Henry was on his iPad, and had it facing the doorway to introduce you to his brother.

“Holy shit!” His brother exclaimed as Henry dropped the iPad. “You lucky bastard.”

“I’ll call you back. Hang up!” Henry shouted.

You stood there; hands over your mouth. “Honey I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

Henry laughed as he walked over to you and clutched your face in his hands. “He’s not getting a better Christmas present than that this year... I can promise you that.”

“Oh crap. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not. That was hilarious, and I can guarantee you he enjoyed it. Probably about as much as I’m going to enjoy taking that off of you.” He bent down and slung you over his shoulder, smacking his hand on your ass as he carried you to the bedroom.

He set you down, as your placed your hands on your hips staring at him, as he lowered to his knees.

“I worship you, My Queen.” He kissed your stomach as he ran his hands up your legs. He kissed your thigh next to the clasp holding your stocking before leaning over and kissing the same place on your other thigh. He slid his hands around to your ass, gripping it and rubbing it as he ran the tip of his nose down your stomach. Nuzzling the satin fabric of your thong, sending shockwaves to your nerves.

He slipped his fingers under the thin ribbon of your panties and slid them down your legs as he looked up at you. Leaning forward and kissing you, his scruff tickled your thigh. He stood up and grabbed you, swinging you onto the bed before grabbing your legs and pulling you closer. He kissed your ankle, leading a trail up the inside of your leg. He ran his tongue over your folds, “mmmmm babygirl.... you’re already so wet.”

He continued blowing your mind with his tongue, sliding in his finger to send you over the edge two times before he was done. He kissed his way up your stomach, tracing circles around your breasts with his nose, before continuing to your neck.

“I love you.” He whispered, “You’re everything to me.” He reached down and pulled your leg up, positioning himself between your thighs.

Your head was swimming as he entered you. You wrapped your arms around his neck holding tight as you lost yourself.

The rest of the night was a blur of pleasurable ecstasy that left both of you completely drained and satisfied. You curled against Henry as he held you close, both of you blissfully happy as drifted off to sleep.

TBC

#romance #fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #henry cavill #smuttyfanfic #smuttyfun #author

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