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patito-oward · 7 months ago

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Always Been You

masterlist

Prompt: And the other is about how Pato falls in love with the reader, just how he says "oh yeah she's THE ONE"

since this prompt was pretty vague I took a lot of liberties with it, but I still hope you like it :)

Summary: After being dumped by his long term girlfriend, Pato realizes everything he’s ever wanted in a relationship has been right in front of him

WC: 4.1k

It happened very suddenly. Here’s the thing, Pato didn’t mean for it to happen at all. On the list of things he had planned for the year, this was definitely not on it. A 500 win? Definitely. A championship? Yep. Extending his contract with Mclaren? Right again. But starting the off season by being dumped by his long term girlfriend and realizing he’s in love with his best friend was not anywhere in his mind.

It all started at the last race of the season, Pato was leading the championship, and granted he got a podium on this race he would finally have his championship victory. To celebrate and support, almost everyone he knew came to Nashville. Pato rented out a block of rooms at a hotel, and one of the many people who showed up for him was his childhood best friend, YN.

So maybe it all started in 2008, when YN and Pato were in second grade and met on the playground at recess. YN was sitting on the swings reading a book when Pato approached her, he was new to San Antonio and didn’t have any friends, and wanted to know if they could be friends. From then on the two were inseparable. Pato was a daredevil at heart, and would often hurt himself, and YN would take the delicate time of walking him to the school nurse and kissing his injuries better. Pato always made YN laugh, and made sure she was never sad, no matter what happened in YN’s life, Pato was there everyday to make her smile.

As they got older their relationship changed, it lost a little bit of their childish innocence, but they grew so much closer. YN was at Pato’s first win in karting, and she was more excited than he was. When YN’s childhood dog died, Pato was at her house at 6:00 AM and spent the whole day with her, trying to cheer her up. They’d even started their own holiday traditions, every year on Christmas Eve, the two of them spent the day making cookies together and exchanged presents. YN had practically become family, she didn’t have the best home life, and the entire O’Ward family was so loving that she ended up spending more time with them than her actual family.

The two dated for a few months in eighth grade, and were each other’s first kiss, but when Pato began racing for F4 and was in France every weekend the two agreed it was best they just stayed friends. Since then that is all they had been, things in YN’s home got significantly worse as they went through high school and despite whatever Pato may have felt, he knew she needed his friendship and wasn’t willing to risk their relationship.

With Pato coming up through Indycar and YN being a full time student and having a job, it was easy to assume the two would drift after high school, that was never the case. They still saw each other everytime Pato was in Texas and Pato made sure YN made a couple of races every year. She remained his biggest supporter as he went from her hometown best friend to the most popular driver in Indycar.

Fast forward to now, things were going pretty perfect for Pato. He finally won the 500, he’s about to win the championship, and he’s got a great girlfriend, Maria. He figures he’ll marry her, he does love her, she’s supportive and nice and insanely hot. They’ve been dating for over a year and things have been going really well. The only time they’ve ever really fought is over YN, when she found out there was a “history” between them, and in hindsight Pato realizes maybe he should’ve told her sooner, but he never really thought about it. Yeah they’d dated for a few months a lifetime ago, but she’s always just been his YN, he doesn’t even think of her like that anymore. YN was one of the most sure things in his life, and sure for awhile he always thought what if?, but that was in the past.

All that being said, he didn’t think twice about inviting her to Nashville to watch him possibly win the championship. YN wasn’t able to make it to the 500, or any other race this year, and he wished she was there. She knew more than anyone how much this had meant to him, coming up after losses she was always the person he went to, and he wanted her to see him now that it had all been worth it. YN was reluctant to come, but after a lot of begging from Pato she agreed.

Thursday night he made sure everyone he invited out came to dinner with him at a steakhouse. There were 20 people at the restaurant, but Pato ended up with Maria sitting next to him and YN sitting across next to Elba. Maybe Pato should’ve realized it, the tension in her shoulders and how Maria’s smile tightened as he laughed at YN’s jokes, but he didn’t. So Maria sat there all night, and she really tried to be understanding, but she felt as if she was third-wheeling her own relationship. She had to listen to a million inside jokes she didn’t understand, and watch as his family fawned over YN.

It was at that dinner she realized that she’d spent a year dating a taken man. Pato was too good of a man, she knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but it became undeniable. As she watched him, she realized everything she felt for him, he felt for the woman across the table. At first she felt possessive, the need to prove that he was her partner, and that no matter what he’d chosen her over YN, but as time passed she felt less possessive and realized that there was no way to continue the relationship. It wasn’t fair to her, she deserved a man who loved her and only her, and Pato deserved to be with the person he loves.

After the dinner, they headed back to the hotel where Pato, who was utterly clueless of her realization, continued to be the perfect man, only making it so much harder for Maria to leave. She didn’t know how long she should let it go on for, if she broke things off now would she be getting in his head and ruining the weekend for him? Would continuing a relationship she’s already checking out of be just as cruel? Could she stand the rest of the weekend watching her boyfriend making heart eyes at another woman?

After sleeping on it, or rather not sleeping very much at all, she’d come to the conclusion that a clean break was best for everyone. They ordered breakfast to the room and as they sat at the small dinette she knew she had to bring it up.

Pato was halfway done with his breakfast, but she hadn’t eaten much at all, mostly just pushing her food around with her fork. “Pato, I think we need to talk.”

It’s rare that she’s this serious, and Pato knows that can’t be good, his silverware clatters as he sets it down and looks up at her. “Uh oh, what’s wrong?”

She hesitates for a moment, not knowing the best way to start the conversation. “It’s YN.”

Pato’s shocked, he doesn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t that, “What about YN?”

She figures there’s no reason to beat around the bush, “You’re in love with her.”

Pato’s a lot of things, surprised for sure, but also shockingly defensive and angry. “What? Babe, that’s ridiculous. I know you were upset about us in middle school, but I swear there’s nothing going on! I would never even think about cheating on you!”

She rested her hand on top of his, “I know you would never cheat on me, and I know you said there’s nothing and I believe you, but I saw the way you looked at her, and how she fit into your life, and it makes so much sense because you love her.”

Pato doesn’t really know what to say to that, “I love you.”

“But you are in love with her. Listen I love you, Pato, and you’re such a good man, but it’s not fair to either of us to continue this relationship. Not when your heart clearly isn’t in it.” Maria struggles over her words, voice cracking and eyes watering, but a soft smile is on her face as she says them.

“Are you saying what I think you are? You’re just giving up?”

“Pato, I’m letting you free, tell her how you feel, you deserve that kind of love.”

And maybe what she’s saying finally resonates with him because the best thing he says is, “I never meant to hurt you.”

She lets out a broken laugh at that, a single tear rolling down her face, “Oh, Pato, you never could, we aren’t meant for each other, but we still had a lot of fun, right?” He nods at her.

After that she’s on a plane and back to her home before he knows it. Pato’s sad, he feels a little empty, someone who had been such a big part in his life just walked out leaving the biggest mess in her wake. He thought about her words, but shook them off. He loved YN, of course he did, but it wasn’t like that, she was like a sister to him.

Although it’s not his sister he messages asking if she wants to come over. YN is at his hotel room within a minute of him sending the “you busy?” text. YN asks where Maria is, but all he has to say is “gone.” and YN knows to drop it.

YN knows him better than anyone, knows that he has an irrational fear of being destined to fail at every relationship. She knows he has never actually broken up with a girl, only ever been broken up with, and she knows he spent over two years single because he was afraid of being hurt. But she also knows that there’s no way anyone could spend more than an hour with him and not be in love with him, God knows she is.

It’s the way he knows her, inside and out, but it’s also the way he makes everyone around him laugh, and spends hours interacting with his fans to make them all happy, and how caring he is with animals and babies. YN is only human, how is she supposed to feel when her insanely attractive best friend is doting over her niece?

YN puts it all aside because she’s his best friend first, she’d made that promise to herself a long time ago and she’s always kept it. She sits with him and watches Friends reruns with him, he’ll talk when he wants to, but until then she’ll be by his side.

They don’t end up talking, the one good channel the hotel room has switches from Friends to Modern Family, and then Pato has to go practice. A quick google search helps her find the best tacos in Nashville, so while he’s gone she runs out to get them dinner. They had dinner plans with his parents and Elba, but YN texted Elba long ago to let her know that plans were changing. He’s a superstar, so of course he doesn’t let his life affect him and it still the fastest person in the first practice, YN thinks that’s a good sign.

When he returns he seems to be a little better, talking to YN about track conditions over their dinner. YN has had enough of waiting for Pato to bring it up, and she can tell he’s feeling better, so she has to work up the courage to ask him what happened.

“Are you going to tell me what happened with Maria or am I supposed to guess?”

His smile drops, turning into one that’s much smaller and forced. “She just left.”

“No explanation? She just woke up and was gone?”

“Oh, she had an explanation but it was bullshit. She probably just got tired of me, it's no big deal.”

YN furrows her brows at that. “Pato stop it, you’re so great anyone would be so lucky to be with you. Maybe there was some merit behind what she said.”

“Well she said I was in love with you, but I told her so many times we’re just friends and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

YN’s stomach sinks at that, it’s not like she expected him to confess his love, but he didn’t need to friendzone her that hard. “Oh.” Is all she can think to say.

“I mean you’re great, but you’re like a sister to me!”

YN forces out a laugh, “Right.” She also can’t help but feel like maybe it’s her fault this all happened, was her pining really that obvious? “Well then, she’s stupid for leaving because she’s not going to find anyone better.”

Pato’s smile is genuine for the first time since the conversation started, “Thank you, you’re the best friend I could’ve asked for.”

“Right, and don’t forget that when you’re trying to figure out what to do with all your championship earnings.”

He lets out a real laugh at that, a stark contrast to how mopey he’d been the rest of the day. “One, greedy, and two, I’m not buying you anything else. I'm tired of you getting mad when I spend money on you.”

“Pato, a graduation gift is fifty bucks, not a two thousand dollar tennis bracelet.”

He leans back in his seat and shrugs, smirking as he says, “Yet I’ve never seen you not wearing the bracelet.”

YN’s eyes go to her wrist where, sure enough, the bracelet was, just like everyday for the past three years. When Pato gave her the bracelet she refused to take it, saying it was too much and he needed to return it. After arguing for ten minutes she thought he’d finally agreed to take the bracelet back, but found it later sitting on her dresser. “What can I say? You have good taste.”

The rest of the night mirrored the morning, but had a much different tone, the two of them sat sprawled out on the couch quoting the episodes of Friends that were on, having seen them so many times they were known by heart.

When YN went to her own hotel room Pato realized how empty the place felt again, something he hadn’t noticed all day. He chose not to think too hard about how effortlessly YN took up space in his life.

The next morning, Pato had already scheduled to have everyone meet in the lobby so he could take them to the track for the day. YN had clearly told everyone about Maria because despite some odd looks no one asked about her and he was grateful for that. He didn’t think twice when everyone began to split into different cars and he pulled YN along with him, or when they arrived at the track and Pato sent most people up into a suite, but brought YN and his immediate family to the pits. Maybe that’s how it’s always been, and how it’s supposed to be.

Pato gets swept up in work for the rest of the day and YN gets to spend some real time with her second family. As soon as they’re alone, Elba doesn’t hesitate to start interrogating her.

“What happened with Maria?”

“Apparently she told Pato he’s in love with me and just left.” YN shrugs as she says it, still a little puzzled by the whole thing.

“Huh.”

“What? No ‘huh’ I know what that means just tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I just thought Maria knew by now and didn’t care, maybe she’s not as smart as I gave her credit for.”

“What do you mean? Knew what?”

“Come on, YN, Pato’s been in love with you since you were nine, I wouldn’t want to be dating him.”

YN is struggling to process what she’s hearing, and automatically turns to deflection. “He is not.”

“Oh my god.” Elba starts giggling maniacally.

YN has no clue what could be funny, “What!?”

“You’re in love with him too!”

“I am not!” Despite her refusal, YN can feel and Elba can see the heat rising up her neck.

“You totally are! All this time I thought you had to know it’s so obvious, I mean, he follows you around like a puppy, but you had no idea!”

“Ok, keep your voice down.” YN puts her hand over Elba’s mouth really not wanting anyone else to hear their conversation. “Even if I did like him, and I’m not saying I do, he does not feel the same. I mean you should’ve heard how hard he friendzoned me yesterday.”

Elba looks sympathetic then, “Babe, I think my brother has spent so long denying himself what he wants he doesn’t even know what that is anymore. I love him dearly, but relationships are not his strong suit.”

“Then I guess we’re at a stalemate because I am certainly not going to be the one to ruin our friendship.”

Elba’s exasperated, “Oh my god, you two are exhausting!”

By the time Elba finished her intervention, qualifying finished resulting in Pato getting the pole. Mclaren has been dominant the last few weekends, and this weekend is no different with all three cars in the fast six. Pato is in the driver’s lot, getting ready to head back to the hotel, everyone else had dispersed from the track, and Felix has tracked down Pato and is calling after him.

“Hey, Felix! What’s up?”

“Bro, you’re about to win this fucking thing.” There’s nothing but excitement from Felix for his best friend.

“I know, I just hope tomorrow is a clean race and we can bring this thing home.”

“You’ve got this, I know it. Hey, where’s Maria been all day?” Felix says it like he’s just realizing she’s not around.

“Who knows. Yesterday morning she woke up determined that I’m secretly in love with YN and got on the next plane out.”

“So you guys are done?”

“Yeah about as done as you can be.”

“And YN?”

“YN is my best friend.”

“No, I'm your best friend.”

“Sorry, Fro, even you lose to YN.”

“I don’t want to win what YN is winning.”

Pato rolls his eyes and stomps his foot, huffing, “And what exactly is YN winning?”

Felix puts his hands up in self-defense, “Listen, all I’m saying is if you looked at me like you do YN, I think Emille would feel threatened.”

“Very funny.” Pato kicks the ground, staring at his shoe, he thinks about his relationship with Felix versus his with YN, sure it’s different, but him and YN have so much history. “Look, I don’t know what I feel for YN, but I don’t care either because she’s too important as a friend for me to lose her.”

“Mate you’ve been practically dating for years, I don’t think making it official will ruin anything.”

With that last piece of advice Felix takes off, leaving Pato alone with his thoughts. The whole drive back to the hotel and the rest of the night he spent thinking about YN. If everyone closest to him is saying one thing, how could they all be wrong? He thinks about everything they’ve been through together.

His first win in karting when she was the first person he ran to when he got out of the car; how she comes to every family reunion and often traveled to Mexico to spend time with his family; their senior prom when she was sad about not having a date, but she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen that night; except for Christmas mornings when she’s in her pajamas and he gets to watch her eyes light up as they answer presents together. Maybe it’s been in front of him all along. What’s been missing from all of his other relationships has been right there.

It’s a lot to take in, but it doesn’t really matter because, like he told Felix, he wouldn’t risk their friendship if she doesn’t feel the same. He can handle a trail of failed relationships, but he could never handle losing YN. He went to bed that night knowing he had to just focus on the race and on bringing home the championship.

The next morning he’s awoken by a knock on the door. “Patricio! Open up, room service!”

He knows who’s behind the door before he opens it, there’s only one person who cares enough to bring him breakfast. When he lets YN in he sees the bag full of takeout food from a nearby diner. “Breakfast of champions, for the champion.”

Of course she’s already decided he’s a champion before the race. No one has ever believed in him as much as her. “Calm down, I don't want you to jinx me.”

“Au contraire my friend, a jinx would mean you’re winning by luck, and you are winning by sheer talent.”

It always amazes him how smart she is in the morning, he knows no more than 5 words for a solid hour after waking up, and she’s always speaking a million words a minute. “7AM is too early to be speaking another language.”

“Aw, pobrecito, ¿estás cansado?” She knew very minimal spanish, but had picked some up from time spent with his family, and used it pretty exclusively to tease him.

“You’re so not funny my brain hurts.” He is slouched over the table with his head resting on his arms.

She begins to unpack the food in front of him, “Alright, come on, time to wake up you’ve got a big day.”

The smell of eggs and bacon is what gets him to lift his head and start eating. He tries not to focus on the fact that she got him exactly what he eats every race day because that’s a can of worms he doesn’t want to touch. Regardless he eats the meal, and is sad when she pulls out her pancakes and begins to eat with him. She offers him a bite which he takes, but they both know he won’t eat any more than that because he doesn’t like big meals before a race.

After they finish, YN starts picking up their trash and Pato thanks her, “You take such good care of me, can’t believe you brought me breakfast I’m not worthy.” She’s glad for her back being turned to him because she can feel how much she’s blushing.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, leave it to YN to be the eye in his hurricane, bringing calm before the storm. The race was close, a shitty pit stop meant Pato had to make some big passes to make up position, but Pato ended up pulling away with the final race win of the season and the championship.

YN and Elba leave the suite a few laps early so they can be on pit lane when he gets the win. After his victory lap and celebratory donuts he pulls into pit lane. Immediately his crew is flooding around him as he struggles to get out. Once he does there’s a giant group hug around Pato. Rossi and Fro also both make their way to his pits to congratulate him.

When Felix pulls Pato into a hug he whispers into his ear, “Why haven’t you gone to your girl yet, she’s waiting for you.”

Felix’s words had weight to them, all these people were surrounding him, but none of them had been on this journey with him as long as her. She waited for him for the last 15 years while he chased a career and different women, and now he’s at the peak of his career, having everything he ever wanted, and she’s not the one by his side. It hits him like a ton of bricks how bad he wants her to be the one celebrating this win with him, and every win for the rest of his life. Walking over to YN he pulls her into a hug, hoping that everything he’s feeling can be conveyed through the touch.

YN is in his ear, “I’m so proud of you, I always knew you could do it.”

He can’t find the right words, so all he says is, “I’m so glad you’re here.” he’ll explain later.

Holding her in front of thousands of people, Pato isn’t scared of losing their friendship anymore. He’s not sure of a lot, but he knows they’ll be ok, and that he’s loved her since before he knew what love was.

#pato o'ward #indy car #pato o'ward x reader #pato o’ward fanfiction #pato o’ward imagine

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huramuna · 11 months ago

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downpour - oneshot.

modern aegon ii targaryen x nanny reader minors dni, you will be smited.

this is for @targaryen-dynasty sleepover challenge 🤭 i got the babysitter au + the prompt 'why so shy?' i had so much fun with this, modern aegon is a menace and also a sopping wet cat.

word count: 4.5k

content: smutty smut smut (specifics under cut), aegon being a little shit (we love it), saltburn spoilers (lol), allusions to drug / alcohol abuse and rehabilitation, mullet aegon, jaehaera and jaehaerys are hel's kids but they have an unnamed / unrelated father, gratuitous use of song lyrics, probably a touch of power imbalance because of her job

murder on the dance floor - sophie ellis-bexter

warnings: oral (m receiving), face slapping w/ cock, degradation, dirty talk (this man never shuts up), face fucking / deepthroat, cum on face

“Jaehaerys! Jaehaera! Please don’t run in the house with muddy boots!” you called fervently, trying to collapse the umbrella with one hand, two teddy bears slung in the other.

“We won’t!” they both called in unison, followed by the unmistakable sound of muddy galoshes squeaking over the marble floor. You suppressed the urge to groan as you entered the exquisite home through the french doors that led to the backyard.

“Boots off, little ones!” you called again, kicking off your own shoes in a haste to catch the gremlins before they tracked grime all over madam Alicent’s home. You had been working at the Targaryen estate for the better part of a year as a live-in nanny for Lady Alicent’s two grandchildren– twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. It was a wonderful job for the most part, as the twins were a delight and you had grown to have a strong friendship with their mother, Helaena. She was a bit dreamy-eyed and wistful, but was a wonderful mother nonetheless, even if she did have her melancholic days.

The estate was huge and ancient, passed down from generations through Helaena’s father’s side, which was apparently a near royal bloodline from days long foregone. Viserys Targaryen, the father in question, was hardly ever home. He managed the family business (whatever it may be, you didn’t find it in you to ask– all you knew is that they were dirty rich) with his other daughter, Rhaenyra, from his first marriage. He had four children with Alicent, Helaena being the only one of the brood to still live at home.

You’d met two of the others as well; Aemond, a lawyer in the family business who was, in short, all business and no play. He never regarded you, really, besides a quick glance or stiff nod. He had, however, slipped you a eight-thousand dollar bonus at Christmas time with a simple card that read;

Thank you for taking care of the twins and my sister. And keeping my mother sane.

- A.T

The other sibling, Daeron, was the youngest of the bunch, visited usually during holidays, as he constantly was studying abroad. ‘Sowing his wild oats’, as Helaena had put it. He was cordial to you and very much had a boyish charm, and Helaena loved to joke that he had a crush on you. When he had come home for New Year’s, he brought you a souvenir from Iceland, an authentic lopapeysa sweater, made from wool and sewn with a beautiful geometric design.

“Awh, Daeron wants you to stay warm, lovey,” Helaena teased.

“I-It’s just– her hands are always so cold, a-and the wool is supposed to help keep warm! The inner layer is insulating.” Daeron had stammered, the tips of his ears growing red.

“Uncle Daeron has a brush!” Jaehaera squeaked, her words whistling through her tooth gap, she’d lost her first baby tooth just the week before.

“A crush, he’s got a crush!” Jaehaerys corrected softly.

Alicent thought the whole thing very amusing.

That left one child you hadn’t met. You didn’t know much about him aside from small bits of conversation you’d picked up on between the rest of the family. Aegon. The eldest of all of them, and apparently the troublemaker of the bunch. You knew what he looked like from the portraits– blonde hair like the rest but with severely more bags under his eyes. Upon entering the home, one would see the chronological order of family portraits.

It starts with Viserys, Alicent, and baby Aegon; the latter of whom is happy and chubby and bubbly.

Then, it moves to the three of them, plus baby Helaena, with her wide blue-eyed stare at the camera. Aegon is still happy.

The next one adds the addition of baby Aemond– there is a glint of sentience in Aegon’s eyes, but he hasn’t experienced the crushing blows of reality yet.

You weren’t exactly sure, but as he got older, he became more morose– more bags, less light in his eyes. Then came the ear piercings, the tattoos, the head shaving, the bloodshot in the whites of his eyes. The portraits ended with this past year’s Christmas photo. Aegon was noticeably missing from it. You’d heard during one of Alicent’s phone conversations with her father that Aegon was in rehabilitation for a myriad of issues, and looking at his photos, you could only guess which one was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

A particularly harsh clap of thunder broke you from your thoughts, coming back to yourself. You scooped up Jaehaera before she stepped on the carpet with the muddy shoes. “C’mon, let's get cleaned up for lunch, yeah? What do we want for lunch today, lovies?”

“Grilled cheese n’ tomato soup.”

“No! I want mac n’ cheese.”

The squabbling ensued, the twins arguing back and forth for a few moments before you butt in. “Alright, how about– whoever gets the floor the cleanest and puts their galoshes by the washroom the fastest gets to pick?”

The twins squealed in delight as they absconded from your sight, effectively going to do your bidding for you. You would, however, just end up making both meals anyway. As you moved to the kitchen, the sound of the doorbell rang. You bustled to the door, not sure who to expect– there weren’t many roving visitors in and out of the estate unless Alicent was explicitly expecting company– which you had triple checked the calendar when you woke up that morning.

You opened the door, expecting to see a debutante or someone of Alicent’s social circle– ‘twas not the case. You recognized him immediately, seeing his mother’s face in his own. Aegon. He was muddy, dirt flecks splashed on his face as he stood under the stoop trying to get away from the pouring rain. His face was a bit healthier than you’d seen it, the dark circles were still there, but not as prominent. It was like a gloomy day, rather than a full blown storm under his eyes. He had the wisps of a beard starting on his jawline, and his hair was cut into a makeshift mullet, longer in the back.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, hands in his pockets.

“Erm– the… the nanny. For the children.” you stammered, his tone catching you off guard. You glanced behind him, seeing a beat up dirt bike caked in mud– that was probably how he got here.

“A nanny? You’re a bit young for that, yeah? My nanny’s were all wrinkly old prunes.”

“Oh– uhm, come in, Mr. Targaryen.”

He perked a brow at the name, but didn’t say anything. He beat the bottom of his boots on the doormat, which didn’t accomplish much. He immediately began to track mud on the floor. “Mum home? Hel?”

“Lady Alicent is… upstairs,” you offered, following behind him at a quick pace. “Helaena is taking a nap– the storm��”

“Yeah, I know ‘bout Hel’s issues with storms. Don’t need to tell me twice. So, you got a name, or are you just the nanny?”

You gave him your name as you glanced at the clock– it was almost time for the children’s lunch and you hadn’t even put it on the stove yet!

“Got any food around here? Fuckin’ famished.” he added then as he nosed around the kitchen, hands still in his pockets.

“I’m just about to make lunch for the twins– uhm, I can make you something too if you’d like.” you walked past him, quickly putting some pots on the stove and starting the gas. You and the twins were on a strict schedule, and if they didn’t get their lunch on time, they would turn into hellions.

“Sure. Whatever the kids are having. I’m not picky.” Aegon waved his hand behind his head as he disappeared from the kitchen and clomped up the stairs, likely to speak with his mother. You fretted for Alicent’s mental state once that was done, and you felt even guiltier for not giving her a heads up.

As the tomato soup heated on the stove and the water began to boil for the macaroni, you unlocked your phone– you were curious about Aegon and why he’d come back, exactly. Well, of course, besides the fact that he lived here (or did, at some point) he was still supposed to be in rehab for another three months. You went to instagram, rolling your eyes as you saw that his profile was on ‘suggested for you to follow!’

You clicked to his most recent photo, the first that he’d posted in over a year.

“Jesus christ,” you muttered under your breath as you put down your phone on the counter to stir the soup.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Aegon teased behind you. When the fuck had he gotten there? “Soup n’ mac and cheese?”

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese for Jaehaera, mac and cheese for Jaehaerys.” you responded plainly, trying not to notice that he was practically breathing down your neck. You glanced over as he leaned on the counter, where you had left your phone. Unlocked. Like an idiot. On his instagram page.

“Curious about me, are you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard enough about me from my mum.”

“I don’t like to pry into Lady Alicent’s affairs–”

“I wouldn’t consider myself an affair, more like a one time fling, eh?” Aegon snorted, grabbing your phone. It took every fiber of your being to not break all sense of decorum you held to snatch it back from him. “You’re not following me– let’s change that,” he mused, beginning to scroll through your page now. “Lots of pictures of the kids here– ooh, a trip to the seaside. There’s no pictures of you on here, eh? Only of… my family n’ other stupid shit, like the ocean.”

“I’m a live-in nanny, sir,” you grit out, stirring the soup with more force than necessary. You consider yourself a patient person, and have become accustomed to how people in the Targaryen’s circle made their jabs. High society and filthy rich people had their own language of insults– ones that you wouldn’t realize they were insulting you until much, much later. It was like a game with a slow burning poison. But Aegon, apparently, was different. There was nothing meticulous about his jabs, no filter, no slow burning poison. It was all punch and sting, like a bite from a rabid dog rather than a viper. “I usually attend family trips.”

“Live-in, huh?” he drawled, his arm leaning over the counter in such a laissez-faire manner that you could feel yourself scowling. “Don’t get much action then, I take it? Let’s see if there’s any nudie judies on here, then…”

“N-no!” you broke then, all sense of manners flying out of your body as you struggled to take back your phone.

“Why so shy? Got something on here you don’t want me to see?” he staved you off, a hand planted firmly on your shoulder as he scrolled through your photos, making all sorts of gaudy faces. You didn’t really have anything overtly scandalous, maybe a few lingerie shots for an old boyfriend.

“Aegon, leave her alone. Give her back her phone.” Alicent’s voice cut through the room like a knife, stunning both of you.

He sheepishly gave you back your phone as she crooked a finger to her son, ushering him to a room on the farther side of the house.

As you fed the twins their lunch, you overheard some yelling, arguing and heated voices. You only saw Aegon later when going to your room to get ready for bed. His eyes were teary and red.

—

The next few weeks went by with some normalcy— everything was as usual, except it was like you had a third child to care for; Aegon. Except this child didn’t listen at all and had terrible habits. He was constantly flirting with you, but also would weave in jabs at the same time— you couldn’t quite tell if he even liked you or not. Not that it mattered, anyway.

You were sneaking in your own lunch one afternoon, eating scraps from the twin’s lunch while they napped— basically just the crust you cut off of the grilled cheese and the small bit of soup left in the pot.

“You eat like a mouse.” Aegon said, always managing to be there to annoy you.

“Too much food makes me tired— I won’t be able to keep up with them if I’m sluggish.”

“Could always drink a red bull or a monster, instead.” he offered, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it in the kitchen.

“You shouldn’t do that inside. It’s bad for the children’s lungs. Lady Alicent says—,”

“Well, it’s my fuckin’ house too, innit? I can smoke in here if I well and bloody like,” he growled, exhaling a puff of smoke into your face. “My mum must be paying you extra to be my nanny too, then? The way you’re up my ass all the time.” he flicked ash in your direction.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. He was goading you, baiting you into a reaction. He was being insufferable on purpose. You could tell by his pearly white smile he currently had plastered to his face, like a smug little—

“Never had a nanny so pretty, though,” he continued. “If I asked real nice, would you feed me soup? Dress me up? Give me a bath if I’m real dirty?” he got closer and you could smell him— the smell of marlboro reds and cheap aftershave that had become synonymous with Aegon blew out your senses until it was all consuming.

Your mouth parted as you tried to think of some witty response, some barb, some jab— but nothing came out. You just huffed and turned away from him in an attempt to hide your red cheeks. Why were you blushing?

You could practically hear the cockiness ooze from him, his mouth perked into a cheeky smile as he stole one of the crusts. He knew he’d gotten to you.

—

It’d now been over a month since Aegon moved back home and the building tension between you two hadn’t let up a bit— you constantly felt trapped and elated all at once. When you saw him, your chest fluttered slightly in anxiety and anticipation. What was wrong with you?

It was a dark, gloomy day. The seasonal storms were in full swing, pelting the estate in rain and hail. Alicent, Helaena, and the twins were out on an escapade to Alicent’s father’s house— you guessed Aegon hadn’t gone. But, it was a huge house, so surely you could enjoy some of your time off without seeing him?

A rumble of thunder shook the house, rattling its constitution— and then the lights flickered. Flickered… flickered… then… out. It was dark, then, even with your window shades open. You turned on your phone flashlight and tiptoed out of your room, going to see if perhaps you could smack the backup generator into working.

You hadn’t expected to work today, nor see anyone, as Alicent had given you the day off. So, you were subsequently dressed in your pajamas— a hilariously oversized Bass Pro Shop shirt (a gift from your dad in America) and cat-patterned sleeping shorts. Your toes cracked and creeped on the floorboards with each movement, and to your chagrin, as you passed Aegon’s door, it opened. He was wearing a shirt that said “MILF: Man I love Fishing”, with just his boxer briefs on, which didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“Oh. You’re still here.”

“Yes?”

“Sorry, thought you were gone with the rest. Sad, I can’t do the Saltburn thing now.”

“The… what?”

“The Saltburn thing? Dance around the empty mansion to myself with my cock out.”

“What.” you responded with the most deadpan tone.

“Dance… with my cock out?” he repeated.

“No– I know what you said– but why?”

“Why not?”

You rolled your eyes, shifting the conversation. “So, the power is out– uhm, do you know where the backup generator is?”

“In the wine cellar. Nifty, huh?”

“... the… wine cellar. I can’t say I’ve been down there yet.”

“I know it like the back of my hand, c’mon then. I’m sure I can kick the old gen in the nads and get it to work.” Aegon said with surprising confidence, turning on his phone’s flashlight and half blinding you.

You followed behind him, to which he hummed ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ while doing a half-assed dance, apparently from some movie that was definitely something you hadn’t watched– you don’t remember the last time you watched a movie that wasn’t geared towards the twins.

“So basically… he had the whole mansion to himself, and then he dances through it with his cock out, hanging massive brain, y’know? It's murder on the dance floor, you better not kill the groove,” he imitates the dance, sprawling his arms out in the doorway to the wine cellar and shaking his bottom a bit, which was, admittedly, nicely fit in his snug boxer briefs. You felt a strange heat flush to your cheeks.

“And this… is a… what? Comedy?”

“Well, categorically no– I’m not a film aficionado. I guess it could be considered a psychological thriller, but I thought it was pretty funny,” he stopped before continuing into the cellar. “It gets pretty hairy in here, so stick close, okay? Ever seen The Conjuring?”

“... yes, actually. Horror movies are kind of my favorite.”

“Ah, a girl after my own heart,” he mused. “Well, think of the basement in that movie, but instead of a bunch of old useless shit, it’s a bunch of old wine.”

“And… instead of ghosts?”

“Oh, there’s definitely ghosts.”

“... what.”

“Yeah, estate is haunted. You haven’t noticed?”

“Shut up.” you murmured. You were a huge fan of horror movies while simultaneously being a huge chicken shit when it came to scary things– you were prone to hiding your face before the big jumpscare or running up the stairs from the kitchen when it was dark, just in case something was chasing you– and your feet had to be covered by the blanket at all times when sleeping.

“Aww, you scared?” Aegon teased, turning to you.

“I mean– ghosts are scary. Of course!” you offered sheepishly, pulling up the collar of your oversized shirt to cover your nose and mouth in an almost hiding manner– a nervous habit of yours.

“I’ll keep you safe, love, no worries about that.”

“... that’s what they always say, right? Then they totally leave behind their girlfriends to get stabbed by the killer or… eaten by the monster.”

“You my girlfriend now?” he asked, that stupidly annoying and somehow charming smug energy exuding off of him in waves.

“Shut up.” you grumbled as you both approached the generator. It was covered in dust and hadn’t been touched or tended to in a long time, it looked like. “Do… you know what you’re doing?” you asked Aegon tentatively, watching as he inspected it.

“Me? Oh, fuck no. I never know what I’m doing, honestly,” he shrugged, giving the metal box a kick and haphazardly pressing some buttons. “No dice, sweetheart. ‘Spose you’ll have to dance in the dark with me for a bit longer, huh? But, if there's a ghost, you'll be... ghost food, or whatever.”

You pinched your brow in annoyance. “I don’t understand you.”

“What’s there to understand? I’m a pretty open book, you know.”

“No– you aren’t. You flirt with me but also… insult me? I don’t get it.”

“It’s called teasing– picking? Picking on? Getting the goat?”

“What? So, like a little boy pulling a girl’s pigtails on the playground because he likes her? That makes absolutely no sense, Aegon.”

“If you spend your time trying to find a reason for it, you’ll go insane. Why not just enjoy the point of it? I like you.” he breathed, suddenly very close to you. He set his phone aside on top of the generator, flashlight up. It illuminated the walls of wine and cast shadows of cobwebs and dust all around the both of you.

“What?”

“Are you deaf– I. Like. You.” he repeated, his knees bumping yours as you were practically glued together, your back now against the ancient stone wall.

Your lips parted as you inhaled a breath– okay, you weren’t exactly expecting him to say that, or even like you at all– you figured the flirting was all hot air, a defense mechanism, something for fun, not… real. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you became all too aware of the fact that you hadn’t been touched since you got this job, maybe even before that– and your previous boyfriends never made you feel… flustered like this. You couldn’t form words as he, uncharacteristically cautiously, put his hand on your cheek. He was so close, so close– his body heat mingled with your inherent coldness and warmed you instantly. You weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned forward, slotting your lips against his. What the actual fuck were you doing– you were kissing your boss’ son, her notoriously bad mannered, foul mouthed, sloven slob of a son, and you liked it. Your hand instantly went to the back of his head, fingers grazing through his choppy curls– even giving them an experimental tug, which he seemed to enjoy, by the indication of something poking you in your thigh.

His lips moved against yours like a dance, and you couldn’t get the fucking song he was singing earlier out of your head– It’s murder on the dancefloor– you grasped at his hip, it was fleshy and pleasant, the tips of your finger slipping under the elastic of his briefs– But you better not kill the groove– his hands were exploring, too, under your stupid Bass Pro shop shirt, groping at your breasts with reckless abandon – If you think you're getting away, I will prove you wrong – the heat rose in your body until you couldn’t take it any longer, the two of you were practically eating each other alive in this dank, dusty cellar and it was undoubtedly the hottest experience of your life – I'll take you all the way, boy, just come along – your lips parted for a moment, still connected by a string of saliva, bridging the gap between the two of you – Hear me when I say, hey –

“On your knees for me, love?” he asked, his voice suddenly so deep and husky, his thumb skimming over your collarbone.

You fell to your knees for him so quickly– how pathetic. He wriggled down his briefs, already leaking at the fat tip of his cock. He wasn’t overly long, but he was girthy, like a beer can. Your eyes widened, which he must’ve noticed, as his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin. Your mind immediately went to an image of a so-called ‘American delicacy’ (your father’s words, not yours) called Beer can chicken, in which a can of beer is shoved in the ass end of a chicken and grilled. It is apparently as delicious as it is horrifying. Your throat bobbed as you surveyed it, a tentative hand around the base. He shook his head, prying your hand from him.

“Nope, mouth only. Open up, be a good girl.” Aegon muttered, looking down at you, the light of his phone flashlight illuminating him from below– he looked like a God. Or maybe a devil.

Your mouth parted as his hand guided you forward. You wholly expected him to nestle in your mouth, but he surprised you with a slap to your face with his cock. It didn’t hurt, just caused you to yelp in surprise. He smeared some of the pre-come across your cheek, then slapped the head of his length on your waiting tongue. It was somewhat degrading, what he was doing– but it lit a goddamn fire under your ass, the neurons of depravity in your body, wherever they may lie, were alight with each nasty little gesture Aegon gave you, before he finally slid home. It stretched out your mouth, prodding at the back of your throat.

“What would everyone else think, hm? If they knew you were such a fuckin’ slut.” he growled, gathering your hair in his fist like it owed him money, beginning to fuck himself into your mouth, careful to pay attention to your body language to make sure he wasn’t working you over too much. He made sure to be extra careful with his toys, rather than break them.

Tears welled, spilling down your face as you let him use you, degrade you– and yet, he also praised you.

“–such a good girl for me–”

“–you can take a little more, there you go–”

“–prettiest throat I’ve ever fucked–”

You felt like you were on fire, set ablaze by arousal you’d never experienced before– was this what they sang songs about? Dirty, borderline pornographic songs but the point still stood.

You had to chalk it up to the barometric pressure of the storm, right? Aegon wasn’t your type— your type was… well-adjusted, non-addicts, non-bad boy, non-troublemakers. Aegon was the antithesis of what you were into.

And yet— you were into him. You were into him in a pathetic, pitiful way. It made you cringe to think about but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes, nor could you forget the way he was whimpering— fucking whimpering! You squeezed your thighs together slightly at the sound of it, at the blurry-eyed, teary sight of him looking down at you on your knees, eyes half lidded.

He pulled out with a particularly throaty grunt, painting your face in his unnaturally warm seed, somehow careful enough not to get it in your eyes– small mercies. Your lungs inflated with oxygen once more as you caught your breath, trying to gather yourself. You felt the swathe of cloth over your face as Aegon cleaned you up with his ‘MILF: Man I Love Fishing’ shirt, which he had apparently taken off.��

“You good?”

You nodded slowly as he helped you to your feet, brushing off your knees with the clean part of his shirt.

“Um– so,” he still held onto you, as if he was afraid you’d run away. “Do you want to watch a movie with me later, when the power is back on? Like, actually watch it– I won’t fuck your face, I promise.”

“... are you asking me on a date?”

“Umm… yeah. I think.”

“Maybe we could watch Saltburn?” you offered with a shrug.

–

“Your mum texted me,” you whispered. “The bridge is temporarily washed out from the storm, they won’t be back ‘til tomorrow.”

“Do you know what that means?” Aegon said, suddenly giddy. You both had just finished watching Saltburn, and you finally understood what the ‘Saltburn thing’ was.

“You know your mum has like ten security cameras set up around the house, right?”

“Okay… and?”

“I’m not dancing naked in the hallway, Aegon.”

“How about just in my room? Please?”

You gave a sigh, beginning to take your clothes off.

“Siri, play ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor.”

‘Okay. Now playing ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor, as featured in Saltburn.’

It's murder on the dancefloor!

But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey!

It's murder on the dancefloor.

But you better not steal the moves.

DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down.

#aemondtarqaryenssleepover #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii #hotd #house of the dragon #my writing #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fic #downpour #modern aegon ii #modern aegon ii x reader

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thebestofoneshots · 9 months ago

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.6 K Warnings: None Prompt: Time to wrap it all up, and perhaps receive one or two surprises. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 42: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Wednesday, December 23rd

The art store was small, but filled with colours all around. Small little black cabinets with golden numbers on top behind the counter, and walls lined with different paint pots and colours, a wall with wooden frames and delicately separated boxes that held paint brushes of all different sizes and shapes and, by the bits you’d read, also materials.

At the top of the cabinets there was a small display of colourful markers and pens and other things that you knew muggles used but you weren’t too familiar with. Apparently, they used stick glue instead of sticking spells to adhere stuff. You wondered how much of this stuff Sirius actually knew about and vowed to bring him to this place with you one day.

And while you did appreciate art, thoroughly – you’d gone to multiple museums, both muggle and wizarding through your trips – you had no idea what the difference was between gouache and acrylic, or why the “Rembrandt” that claimed to be made out of oil, where much more expensive than the “Winsor & Newton” ones that claimed the same. It had to be because of the quality, right?

“Good evening, may I help you?” a young man, probably in his late twenties asked as he approached you. He was dressed in rather formal clothes and had a pair of thin-rimmed golden glasses. You would have probably considered him attractive if you hadn’t been accustomed to Sirius’ dashing looks or Remus’ lovely smile. You really were lucky to be surrounded by handsome and pretty humans, you thought, thinking of the rest of your friends.

You must have looked as lost as a Bowtruckle in the middle of New York since he looked like he would try to be overly polite.

“I’m looking for a gift, my boyfriend loves to draw, but I’m… not really good with all the supplies and stuff, I was thinking perhaps a nice set of pencils and a sketchbook. I’ve been looking through the paints as well, but I don’t think he’s the kind to do the whole canvas thing, at least not while we’re in school.”

“Well, does he colour his drawings?”

You thought about it for a moment, what he’d shown you were mostly sketches done in pencil, though there were some with an underlayer of red and or blue. “I think he uses some for the base of the drawings.”

“Does he overline them?” The expression you gave him when he asked made him clarify it. “After the pencil sketch is done, does he add a pen or marker to finish up the details?”

Sirius did not do that, but you also thought how complicated it would be to do such a thing with a quill instead of the pens and trinkets the muggles had invented so you nodded in response. “Yeah… not that often but I’m sure he’d like something to be able to do it.”

“All right, follow me,” he said as he motioned to one of the furthest walls. “This is where we keep all of our sketchbooks, the thicker the grammage the stronger pens and markers it will hold. Also, some can even hold watercolour, not sure if he’s into that too.”

“Do you have like – a book on the basics of watercoloring? I feel like he might actually be interested in that.”

“We do,” he said with a nod and moved to the other side of the store bringing you a few options. You picked one of them and then looked through the sketchbooks. There were different sizes and colours and the pages felt really different on most of them. Some were especially made for watercolours and some were for drawing. You took one with about 100 pages for watercolour and one with the same amount of pages but with a bit less grammage for sketches.

They both had a black cover with golden elegant trims that you thought would definitely go with Sirius’ look, although one opened from the side, making it more of a panoramic view while the other one stayed horizontal. You handed them in to the guy and he took them to the counter as you continued looking around. You leaned into the watercolour section and started to look at all the different options available.

“If this is the first time he’ll do watercolour, may I recommend you buy a set?” he asked politely as he showed you a small wooden case, when he opened it there were all sorts of small blocks with different colours on them. “These are my favourite brand, but really gentle with beginners, they also come with this interesting thing,” he added as he handed you a small brush with a clear section at the top. “It comes with water, you don’t have to dip your brush that often, really useful once you get the hang of it.”

“You have more of those?” you asked and he nodded, showing you the different sizes of brush ends. After a while, and with a lot of his help, you ended up selecting about 5 different brushes and the colours that you’d fill the small wooden box with as well, which you thought was fantastic since you could fill it up with whatever colours you chose and not a set palette.

“You’ll also take the marker set, the watercolour book and the sketchbooks, correct? Anything else?”

“Uhh… Am I missing anything that he might need?

“Does he draw portraits or landscapes?”

You thought back of the Remus drawing he’d shown you, and then of the one you had chosen not to see. “He draws portraits and anatomy studies. Though I’m sure I’ve seen him doodle other stuff too.”

“He might like this book then,” he told you as he handed over another book. It was about proportions and hand drawing and a lot of very advanced-looking stuff, you smiled.

“This one as well, please…” he was about to finish the bill when you stopped him, looking down through the glass display and pointing towards something, “Is that a penknife?”

“Well, yes,” he replied, “Although sharpeners are used more often nowadays, some people still prefer them.”

“I’d like one of those as well,” you added with a smile.

“Excellent.” The man gave you your total and then handed every single thing in a thick paper bag. “You said it was for a gift, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded and he walked to the back of the shop, pulling a very elegant and sturdy black box, he eyed the bag as if calculating if everything would fit and then handed it over to you along with a black and gold ribbon with the name of the store repeated over and over.

As he handed it over he pulled it back for a second and gave you a smile. “That young gentleman is very lucky to have you as a girlfriend.”

“I think I’m just as lucky as he is,” you responded with a small smirk as you took the box.

“Would you like me to call you a cab?”

You thought about it for a second. Your house wasn’t that far, and with a short levitating spell you wouldn’t have to carry much stuff either, but the Knight Bus did mention they’d be very busy and you had been walking all day. “Yes, thank you.”

The man called for one and you waited inside the store until the cabbie arrived. You gave him your address and he took you straight there. You took the lift of your building, using your wand to unlock the secret –magical- floor your parents had purchased in London and waited.

When the two, golden doors of the lift opened to your drawing room, you sighed. Leaning down to take off your shoes. “Mom? Dad?”

No answer. “What time is it?” you whispered to yourself as you looked at the clock, quarter past ten? That art store surely has late closing times, you thought as you leaned back down to pull your bags up and drag them to your room.

There was a note on the table along with what looked like a delightfully looking salad and steak.

We’ll be home late, serve yourself. See you tomorrow darling.

You sighed and after placing the bags on the table, and using a warming spell on the food, you ate. Once you were done, the plate disappeared from the table and instead, a chocolate cake showed up. You smiled, at least they knew you liked sweets. You took a few bites from that and took it, along with your gifts, to your room.

That’s when you remembered you had promised to tell your friends when you arrived here so you quickly scribbled a few notes. Sending your owl –Resse– back to the Potter’s and Barnaby –the family’s owl– to Beth. Then you took some Floo powder and leaned over the fire.

“Tom?” You asked as you peeked through his chimney.

“Sly sprite?” He asked as he leaned over. “I was starting to worry,” he said as he left a book on the side. “You got home, all right?”

“Yeah!” you said with a smile. “And I got a bunch of good stuff at the store too, it was worth it.”

“It better have been! Beth is home too, we stopped by hers first.”

You chatted with Tom for a little while more and ended the call when you started to yawn and he followed right after. With that, you went for a quick and warm shower and then back to bed.

Thursday, December 24th

There was a soft knock on the door, you stirred on your bed but didn’t wake and then there was another one. “Sweetheart? Breakfast’s ready, come eat.”

“On my way,” you said as you sat on your bed and rubbed your eyes a couple of times. The day was bright, you’d forgotten to shut your windows at night and now you had the perfect view of the Thames through your window. You thought back to Hogwarts and how all the splendour of it had been made by magic, while the splendour of London had mostly been made by muggles.

The high skyscrapers, the Ferris Wheel across the river, the towers, palaces and bridges, all muggle-made, and without magic, it was fascinating. You didn’t understand why wizards had so many prejudices against them –aside from the whole burning on steak part, muggles seemed to be quite incredible and determined people. Perhaps you should have taken that muggle studies optative.

“Sweetheart?” you heard your father’s voice, a bit more stern than your mother’s.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you said as you shook your covers off and grabbed your wand from the nightstand. “As if they hadn’t been home hours after I got here,” you mumbled as you fished for a pair of slippers under your bed.

By the time you got out of your room both your mom and dad were sitting on the living room table. Your mom was wearing a beautiful cocktail dress while your dad had a perfectly fitting black suit on with a small cape, draped elegantly behind his chair. You were still wearing a band shirt you had stolen from Sirius a while ago, and that you had been wearing under Remus’ jumper before the trip. “Lovely to see you,” you said with an awkward smile, “it’s been a while.”

Your father looked up from his newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand only for a second, nodded and then went back to read. Your mom gave you a sympathetic look and nodded for you to sit down. After a couple of minutes, your dad bent the newspaper and placed it on the side of the table.

“We’ve heard plenty of your Hogwarts Adventures,” your father said looking at you. “You’ve been doing a masterful job at maintaining our house’s name relevant.”

You frowned at that, that had never been your intention.

“You were incredible in the broom race though you lost,” your father said. “And you’ve won two quidditch matches–”

“That was a team effort…” you said, your voice growing smaller as his hand dismissed you.

“You’ve kept your grades high and you’ve even entered the duelling club…”

“Not to mention her Theoretical Magic grades,” your mom added with a smile.

“And you’re dating one of the Black kids.”

You swallowed. You had mentioned in your letters that you and Sirius had gotten along now that you were in the same house, but you hadn’t specifically mentioned you were dating him.

“The disowned Black kid,” your father continued.

You straightened a little, you had discussed with your dad the things that happened back in your vacations with the Blacks. It hadn’t been particularly nice talk, but you weren’t going to back down, his political means could not be worth more than his morals. And things had been rather tense between the two since then.

When two people had such intense ideological differences and desires, they were bound to clash against each other, especially when those ideologies juxtaposed against the other often, being only furthered by the fact that you were –at least on breaks– living under the same roof.

Your priorities had been wildly different and you weren’t shy about letting him know, which caused your relationship to deteriorate quickly. Not to say you –or him– had been particularly rude to each other, but you were much colder. It was almost Christmas, and you didn’t want to start a fight with him, let alone over something that you were most definitely not going to yield on.

“I think it’s all right. He might have been disowned by his family but he still stays in contact with some of the other Blacks like Alphard and the other disowned child… whatever her name is…” Andromeda, you thought as you tried to process the fact that he had just said it was fine. “Just try to avoid mentioning him in tomorrow’s dinner. I’m sure Walburga wouldn’t be particularly pleased.”

“Tomorrow’s dinn– Walburga will be coming?”

“Of course not, they have invited us to their Christmas dinner,” he said. “It’ll be hosted in Rosier Manor, I believe.”

“Whose manor?” You asked, your breath going short along with your question.

“Mr. Rosier,” your mom repeated. “All important wizards will be there.”

“I’d rather skip Christmas altogether.”

“I’m sorry, darling. This isn’t a matter of preferences. You will go and then we’ll let you do whatever you please for the rest of the break. Visit muggle London as much as you want or dally with your friends, I really don’t care as long as you maintain your composure during tomorrow’s dinner.”

Your leg was bouncing slightly under the table. “I don’t believe I will be welcomed in that house.”

“You will be welcomed because you are my daughter and I’m me,” he said with an air of finality. “We need to present a strong family front, play your part and you’ll be rewarded.”

“Right, my part,” you said bitterly. You wondered if your mother was playing her part too, they were in love, that wasn’t questionable, but sometimes it felt like she became nothing more than an addition to his recollection of what a perfect life should look like. Did he marry her because of the love he felt for her or because she’d look like a delightful trophy wife by his side on political dinners? Had she not been as beautiful as she was, had she not been well educated, would he have married her either way?

You wondered, when had Silas become the man he is now? When did his greed for power become so intense he would sacrifice his morals to achieve it? When you were smaller, you thought they loved each other, even now, you saw when they looked at each other with those adoring eyes, but… there was a tale of sacrifice weaved in between their story, and with one party constantly bending to the other’s wishes, you weren’t sure you could still call it love.

When devotion became toxic, was it still something that came from love, or had it become something else altogether?

“Indeed darling, we ask for nothing more than one night. Then you will not be bothered, free to go wherever you want and with whomever you please. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

You sighed and nodded, “One dinner.”

Your mother smiled at that, letting out a nervous breath and then reached for your hand. “Your clothes for tomorrow are already in your closet, I also got you some nice potions and make-up.”

“Thanks, Mum,” you said with a short smile and looked at your food. It looked delicious, it was French toast with berries and fruit on top –probably there to appeal to your sweet tooth and convince you to go– but you didn’t feel hungry at all. Especially not at the thought of having to go to Rosier Manor. As if you didn’t see enough of Evan at school, now you had to go see him on the break as well, bIoody brilliant. “Breakfast was great,” you said as you stood up. Both of them decided to ignore your almost intact plate, “I’ll be in my room in case you need anything else, you know like me playing the role of the perfect child of the politician if your friends come around or whatever.”

Your mom gave you a reproachful look while your dad gave you an impassive one, you raised your eyebrows at the two of them, almost tauntingly before you turned around, walking back to your room and letting the door close behind you gently –it was not the inanimate objects fault that your parents were acting like pricks.

You sat on your bed and took a deep breath before you saw a small owl by one of your windows, you let him in and took the rolled parchment from his feet before feeding him some water.

Dear Vix, Hope this letter finds you all right, Sirius was moaning about you going along Beth and Tom and not inviting him to buy Christmas stuff it was draining! Now I was not going to write to you about it because he said he would punch me in the face but I had to write anyway since mum and dad wanted you to have our address so you could come here through floo anytime. Hope you’re having a great time, Sirius and I went flying with Pete today (he lives a few houses from us, did we tell you?), and while it was nice not having to worry about Sirius distracting himself from snogging you, we missed you still. Mum and Dad send greetings to your parents, hope you’re also having a blast. Your bestest friend, James P. PS. Mum sent this tea for you, she said she thinks you’d like it with how much sweet stuff you eat and stuff. PS 2. Love you, but I bet you’re missing me more <– That was Sirius.

James’ stupid letter made you chuckle, especially the last bit, as if it had been necessary to point out that Sirius had been the one to write it. You placed the letter into a small box in your bag and smiled as you walked to pick up some of the stuff you’d be giving your friends as their gifts.

You picked up some wrapping paper and started wrapping all of their gifts, the owls would have to do a couple of trips to take them all to their place, but you’d make sure to leave them plenty of food throughout the night, so they could continue their trips and the presents would be at your friend’s beds in the morning.

You had gone through most of the smaller gifts first, writing small, and neatly written Christmas cards on them. Then you went for the bigger ones, the books you’d gotten for Lily, some of the stuff for Mary and Marlene, James’ pack, and of course, Remus and Sirius’.

It wasn’t until then, that you realised how overboard you had gone with your gifts. You’d gotten Remus so many books, both magical and muggle, that you almost felt guilty you hadn’t gotten Lily and James more stuff. And then you tried telling yourself it was because Remus would spend Christmas alone and he deserved at least a bit of happiness, you weren’t deliberately playing favourites.

And then Sirius’ pile was clearly a mess, you had all the music you’d gotten, the shirts, the penknife that you wanted to engrave with his name (you were researching for the right spell to do it) and a bunch of other stuff for him. Besides, you still wanted to make the playlists, so before you finished packing the bigger boxes, you started testing the recorder. Now there wasn’t exactly a step by step guide on how to record music, but there was a small booklet that showed you how the thing worked and you spend the rest of the day figuring it out, listening to music and making a playlist for each of your friends. Using all the songs you thought they might like.

When you were done with that, you continued packing all the stuff. Deciding to send all the music back to the boys’ room at Hogwarts so they could leave it on Sirius’ stash. Well, all of them except for the David Bowie tape you had specifically gotten for Sirius and that would look great with his shirt and the rest of the gifts you’d gotten him.

You went out to get some food at some point during the day, and there was another note from your parents telling you they were off at an event. Well, good riddance, you thought as you went back to your room with a sandwich in your hands. You picked one of the books you’d gotten for yourself and you spent almost the rest of the day reading it while jamming to one of the playlists you’d made. A copy of the one you’d made for Remus since you thought it went well with the book you’d chosen to read.

You fell asleep before your parents got home, with the book still in your hands and the music playing softly in the background until the cassette ran out of tape and was softly ejected by the machine. The sound it made had been so soft it didn’t wake you at all.

Thankfully, you had remembered to leave enough water and food for the owls, since they had spent all night doing trips back and forth to your house and your friends’.

Friday, December 25th

You woke up by being pecked in the face by a very big and very angry owl.

“Oi!” you complained. “What’s wrong with you?” The owl chirped and picked you again, this time on the ear. “Bitch,” you mumbled as you pushed him back lightly, only for him to pick you in the finger again.

You gave him an upset look and he pulled back just a little, tilting his head towards the window, and the lack of food and refreshments.

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been attacking me non-stop?” you asked as you stood up from the bed, failing to see the pile of wrapped gifts at the end of it. The owl chirped in response, a scowl that you weren’t sure was his natural face shape or an actual scowl directed towards you. “I’m sorry,” you added, “Barnaby and Reese must have eaten them all. They did many trips last night, you know?”

The owl chirped again, a little angry as he flew towards the window, as if saying «I too flew many trips last night» looking as indignant as a Towny Owl could. You added a few of the special snacks you kept for Reese just to keep him from biting you again. You looked at the name tag and realised who the owner of the owl had been.

Eun-ji, Minho had told you about her, she was his family’s owl and apparently, the name meant something like “kind”. So much for a kind owl, you thought as you looked at her, gobbling up Reese’s treats. You leaned over when you noticed there was a small letter attached to his feet and took it in your hands before the owl flapped his wings and left.

Merry Christmas Star Seeker, Hope you’re having a great time. Thought of giving you a special thanks for that one time you –quite literally– pushed me towards my crush and got us to start a conversation, that, well, you know how great it ended! Even for a Gryffindor, you’re really nice, so I thought of getting you something for you to get some more hate from your fellow Gryffindor, Eun-ji must have left the gift near your bed.

You turned to the side in the middle of reading and stood agape, there was not only a green and silver wrapped gift in what looked suspiciously like the shape of a snake, but there were also a bunch of other gifts wrapped in all sorts of colours.

Anyway thanks for everything, hope you have fun and all. I’m looking forward to beating you all next time we play, Love, The one and only, and your favourite Slytherin, Minho Cha.

You rolled your eyes at the last bit, it had been very Slytherin of him, but since you knew Minho, you also knew he was playing it off as a joke on his own house, which made a joke inside a joke and you thought it was actually kind of funny.

You took a deep breath and walked over to your bed. There were all sorts of gifts prompted there and you decided to unwrap Minho’s first. There was a small, green snake plushie with a bow on it that had a small pendant with something written on it: “From the snakes that love you dearly,” and then it had the names of all of your Slytherin friends: Minho, Comet, Nox, Reggie, and even some you weren’t expecting like Dorcas and Solacis. You thought it was an adorable little thing, even if –and you were certain of this– your friends would absolutely hate it. Well, not Lily, she’d also think it was adorable.

And thinking of her, was that you picked the next gift, wrapped in pink and yellow paper, and with her a small dedicatory on the corner, you instantly knew it was from her, her neat and perfect handwriting being the dеad giveaway. You smile as you read her small dedication. She wished you a very, merry Christmas and promised to tell you everything about the train with James as soon as you saw each other in person. She wrote something along the lines of not being able to put it on paper, which made you laugh.

When you opened the present you were thrilled, it was a small leather notebook, dark red with golden trims and your name on the cover. Not Vixen, not Starshine, or any of the other nicknames that you had come to own and love since you arrived at Hogwarts, but your name. You smiled as you traced your fingers over the letters. There was a pen on the side, golden and apparently of some interesting muggle technology that wasn’t that popular in the wizarding world. You thought it was fascinating. When you opened the notebook you realised there was something written, again in her handwriting.

You’ve had more adventures this year than I’ve had in my lifetime. I think it’s time for you to start writing down some of them, in case you ever want to revisit them. If journaling is not your thing (which I feel like it would be because I know you), you can just use this notebook however you want. You know grocery lists, songs for mixtapes, your favourite lyrics, poems, quotes, Sirius’ doodles, your doodles, dried flowers, stickers, whatever you want, it’s your space, and you may use it as you wish! Love, Lily

You thought the idea of having your own journal was brilliant, you always admired her for keeping hers so incredibly neat looking, and perhaps being able to let some of your feelings go on a blank page would be better than keeping them bottled up. You doubted you would be nearly as consistent as her, but you decided to add your first couple of words in there, detailing the gifts you’d gotten and the few you still had yet to open.

You’d gotten a box of your favourite candies from Mary and some incredible quidditch trading cards from Marlene, but she had also added some makeup to her gift because if not you and James would have gotten the exact same thing and you were her favourite between the two. You got a spellbook and a muggle prank book from Tom “to further your career” according to him. There was a large, embossed book from Nina, which you discovered was an annotated version of one of your favourite books and a small set of runes from Sybil. You had gotten her a deck of cards and a book about premonitions.

There were candies from Nox and a muggle book lantern from Neil Perry, you had both complained at some point about reading with your wand and you thought the solution he’d found was adorable. Peter had gotten you a book about canines, packed along with a small fox-themed bookmarker and a note that said “Thank you for not busting my make-out session and Merry Christmas.” He also added, “PS. maybe with this one you’ll be able to tame Pads.” Which had you wheezing with laughter for a while.

It took at least a minute to go for the next gift, it was a small box that said to be handled carefully. You opened it according to the instructions. “Shut the fuck up!” you said the moment you realized what was inside. A small Felix Felicis vial. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you repeated over and over again. “How did he even get his hands on it?”

You picked up the paper from behind it, there was a small note.

Okay say it: aside from Sirius, I AM your favourite Marauder. You might be wondering, “How the hell did James get his hands on this?”. Well dear, I must say, I have contacts. AKA my parents are expert potioneers and I somehow convinced Mum to brew one and that’s how I got my hands on it. Now, I could have given it to any of my friends but I get the feeling you might be needing some of this soon enough. You know, from things I’ve seen and such (please don’t waste it on a quidditch match, though). Anyway, I know you’ll use it well, hope you have a very Merry Christmas! Your favourite marauder AND bestest friend, Prongs.

You chuckled when you finished reading and went back to look at the vial with incredulity. Brewing one of these potions was arduous work, and it took weeks, which meant James must have had convinced Effie to do it even before she’d met you. Never underestimate James Potter, you thought as you grabbed onto the vial and placed it around your neck with a chain, casting a disillusionment charm on it so it wouldn’t be so obvious you had it with you. You thought the gift was brilliant.

After that, there were only 2 gifts left. You picked the one with a silver bow first. It was a square box, about 12” wide, and had been wrapped in the same paper as James’, which made you guess who it might be from. There were chocolates and a small letter on top, neatly closed and with your name written on the back with Sirius’ almost perfect calligraphy. There was also a paper covering something, but you picked the letter up first.

You know, I tried writing a love letter, but James wouldn’t stop making ridiculous comments about it not being profound enough and I feared I’d end up writing something close to the painfully ridiculous letters he used to write to Lily so I had to stop myself. Who would have thought it would be that hard to put thoughts into words? I suppose if I were like Remus it would come out much easier but, unfortunately, you’re stuck with me. Actually no, fortunately you’re stuck with me, I’m delightful.

You laughed, he’s not wrong.

Anyway, I suppose what I wanted to express in those dreadful attempts of being a poet was that I’m incredibly thankful that you came to Hogwarts and that you came back to me. I’m grateful that you tolerate me and my moods and that you love me for who I am, flaws and all. I wasn’t sure I’d ever found that kind of love, one that I even doubted it existed, and yet you’re always there to tease and make me laugh and– I already sound like James, but you know what I mean. You always know what I mean. As you see, I am far from a poet, but there is something I like to do and I thought that perhaps, you’d enjoy it more than this terrible love letter. You know, you and Remus were the first to ever see a sketch from my book, and I was feeling all sorts of things after I offered, and yet, you were there, reassuring me and telling me I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to. You know Walburga, it wasn’t much of a choice for me, so it truly meant the world, and fed me the courage I needed to let you see that part of me. And when you two finally saw it and praised me for my skills, for what I did with my own hands… You make me so incredibly gleeful, it’s almost scary how much power you could hold over me. But frankly, I’ll let you hold it all you want. All right, enough of the sappy stuff, Merry Christmas Starshine, you know you shine brighter than my own star. Hope you like your gift. Love, Sirius

See the letter here

You read the letter a few more times, smiling at the little details and jokes Sirius had sprinkled all over. And then you pulled on the bit of tissue paper covering the very last thing in the box and when you finally saw its content you couldn’t help but swear again, “Son of a bitch!” you whispered.

There were still some small pieces of paper over the small portrait, and you carefully brushed them out to be able to lift it from the box. The image was a hand-drawn portrait of you. You had a big smile and were looking at what would be the camera if it were an image. It looked like it might have been from one of the pictures from Marlene’s party although Sirius had changed the outfit, you were wearing an oversized sweater and his leather jacket. You could tell it was his because it had one of the enamel pins you had gotten him as a gift on the lapel.

There were touches of colours in the strokes, not quite painting the drawing but rather giving it relatively bright edges that made it look special, unlike any other doodle. And of course, he had framed it, it was a simple yet elegant frame, dark oak and with small carved details on the sides. On the left bottom corner of the drawing, there was something written in French:

À l'étoile la plus brillante. Amour,

And then, instead of his name, he signed with a small and elegant star doodle. You smiled again, it was one of the loveliest things you’d ever gotten, even if it was a portrait of yourself, the fact that Sirius had been the one to draw it, made it the most special of things. There were portraits upon portraits of you in your house, with magic that allowed you to move and smile, and even talk sometimes, but none of them held as much value as the frozen drawing Sirius had given you.

Eventually, you placed it on your night table and picked up the last gift still sitting in your bed. His box was smaller than Sirius’, about the size of a book, which had you assumed he had gotten you something along the lines of that.

You opened the book and found a small, pocket-sized book. It was a Sreath Bàrdachd, according to the golden script at the top. You hadn’t quite realised as you pulled it from the box, but it was handmade. You looked at it in shock as you flipped to the 50+ pages, all in carefully and methodically written cursive, his handwriting.

Later you realised it was something between a book of poems and a compilation of quotes from different books. You admired the booklet for a few more minutes when you spotted that there was a small letter, still waiting for you inside the box. You pulled it off and broke the seal with a small sword letter opener Nox had given you as a gift.

As you did, a small chain fell from the letter and you picked it up. It was small and dainty, just long enough to wrap around your wrist, which made you wonder how he’d guessed the size. The chain was simple, and it broke off into two different sections, one with a small crescent moon and then another one with a small star. It also had one small gemstone in between the bigger charms. You looked at it with a smile and held it in your hand as you read the letter.

Hey there, Little Witch, Hope you’re having an incredible Christmas. By the time you read this, you’ve probably seen the Sreath Bàrdachd, and knowing how clever you are, you probably already know what that could mean. Yes, It’s a book of poems, but also a bit more than that. I knew Sirius was making you that incredible gift of his, and I didn’t want to fall behind. Prongs didn’t tell us what he got you but he seemed pretty confident he’d have the best gift of all. Did he? Never mind, don’t tell me, it’s a silly competition. Either way, I thought you might like having one of these. Mum used to have one, which is why I know they exist. She told me a good friend gave it to her and she has kept it ever since then. I remembered borrowing it from her once when I was little, and she taught me how to carefully flip through the pages as she read to me. She also mentioned it was a silly girl’s thing but I thought it was amazing, and went on to make my own. Although wonky and, with quotes from children’s books, she thought I was quite a mastermind for making it by myself. Of course, I put a lot more effort into the one you have with you now. Or perhaps the same effort but with better skills. If you’ve flipped through the pages, which I assume you have, since you’re incredibly curious, you’ve probably seen some familiar quotes. There’s stuff from books we’ve both read and stuff that only I have read but that I thought you might like. Some of my favourite poems too, and some quotes from movies that only you’d be able to get. There are even lyrics from songs, some that we really like, some that Sirius has heard so many times that I already knew them by memory, and since the two of you like similar music, I assumed you’d know them too. Also, there’s a small bracelet in the letter. I’ve cross-charmed it, in case you ever lose the Sreath Bàrdachd (I truly hope you never do), the gemstone will shine as you approach it. I’ve also added a few luck charms that, while they won’t keep you away from trouble –I don’t think anything could– they may give you some luck while navigating it. Don’t hit me for saying that, you know it’s true. Love, Moony. PS. Prongs told me about your little quarrel with Sirius on the platform, Sirius definitely misses you more.

See the letter here

By the time you finished Remus’ letter, you were smiling as brightly as you had when you read Sirius’. You were so lucky you had found such incredible people in Hogwarts. Your bedsheets filled with torn wrapping paper were a testament to that. You spend the rest of the afternoon listening to some more music and reading through the book Remus had made.

He had been especially careful with his handwriting which you thought was adorable, and there were a lot of quotes from Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Grey. He had written in pencil –so you could erase it if you wanted, not that you would– that it was your fault he was obsessed with his writing now. Taking poems and quotations from both, the book aforementioned and The Ghost of Canterville. You hadn’t read the latter yet, but you were almost counting the days to go back to school and ask him to lend you his copy.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and you had to leave the warm comfort of reading and listening to music in favour of changing into the clothes your mom had chosen for you. You sighed as the alarm clock you’d set earlier went off, and then went straight towards your closet. The dress she had picked was simple, yet elegant. It wasn’t a long dress like the one she’d probably wear, but a more youthful one with clever intricate details on the sleeves and a midi skirt.

“Thank god it has sleeves,” you whispered to yourself as you pulled the edge of the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt up. While your skin looked almost smooth, the lighter (almost silvery) shapes where the new skin was growing over the gush Moony had made were pretty evident. You supposed makeup and a spell could make them less visible, at least for a while, but that would have probably taken you a lot more time to achieve.

You plopped the black dress on, smoothing the sides as walking towards your vanity where your mum had left all the potions and make-up. You sighed, remembering how much more fun it had been to dress for the Gryffindor parties than it was to dress for this one. With the black dress and the pearls on your neck, you felt a lot more like you were about to walk into a funeral rather than a party. My own funeral, you thought with a laugh when you remembered whose house you’d actually be going to.

You grabbed a pair of red, not-too-high heels, put them on, and took another look in the large mirror by the window. You looked lovely, at least there would be no complaints from your parents on that aspect. What they might complain about was the fact that you took a bag with an undetectable extension charm and filled it with a few of the books you’d gotten as a Christmas gift. You also took the journal Lily had given you and Remus’ Sreath Bàrdachd. And you weren’t sure who’d be attending that party but you sure hoped you’d be able to sneak into a corner and read a book rather than having to interact with some of the most disagreeable friends of your parents.

“Sweetheart, are you ready?” your mom asked from the kitchen.

“Yeah, coming,” you said as you grabbed a few more trinkets and dumped them in your bag, just in case.

You were about to leave the room when you saw a small glistening thing in your bed and you went straight to grab it. It was the bracelet Remus had given you, and even if it took you a while to put it on, and you continued looking between your wrist and the door as you tried to get the clasp to do its job, you thought it was worth it. I could really use that extra luck. You thought. You accommodated the necklace Sirius had given you and that you never took off and then took off James’ potion and placed it on your bag since it might be safer there than around your neck.

One last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order and you walked out towards the living room.

“You look delightful, darling,” your father said as he spotted you walking out of the room.

You gave him a half shrug in response and then managed to mutter a “thanks” that you hoped didn’t sound as bitter as it felt. After another moment of silence, your mom grabbed her bag and finished clipping on one of her earrings.

“We’ll take the floo?” you asked.

Your father shook his head, “They’ve sent over a Portkey,” your mom explained and motioned to the table, there was a small, fancy-looking invitation right in the middle.

“Nice,” you said as you used your wand to levitate the object and move it right in between your parents. Perhaps if it had been floo, you could have sneakily said James’ address instead of Evan’s and escaped the party altogether. Once there, your parents wouldn’t make a fuss about it in order to not make your insubordination evident. But of course, you weren’t that lucky, and you’d have to take the portkey and you’d have to go to the party.

“In three,” your father said as he moved his hand towards the invitation, “two… one… go.”

The three of you placed your hands on the invitation at the same time and you felt the very familiar pull on your lower back, in less than a second, the entire world distorted around you, and then, you weren’t in your house anymore.

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A/N: Aww that was so cute wasn't it? Now it's time to strap on, we're about to dive head-first into the darkest side of the story, and it's going to be fun and sad and just a rollercoaster of emotions in general. Love, Lils xx

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midnight-mourning · 24 days ago

Text

What's This?

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 4❄️❄️

Sorry for the lateness! Busy few days and then realized I needed to take some time for myself and make something I enjoy, so finished this finally.

Prompt: Maybe someone teaching Moon what christmas is? My moon just recently became 'sentient' and so doesn't understand alot of things yet! So he'd have no idea what christmas is! I think it'd be cute. Doesn't have to be my Moon, of course. Just the idea that Sun hasn't told him for some reason, so someone else has to!

Word Count: 1239

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"And put the tinsel here, here, and here!" Sun directs, point to various locations around the Daycare.

You chuckle, but follow his orders.

The two of you were decorating for the holidays, and having found a box of decorations in the back of the Daycare's supply closet, Sun had gotten to work immediately. And had put you to work as well. Additionally, he had asked for you to order more supplies, wanting to spiff the place up as much as possible for the kids. He also mentioned wanting crafting materials for Christmas and holiday themed projects, so that was piled on to this order.

You think his request for 30 boxes of candy canes was a little excessive, but the rest had all been reasonable and within budget. So, using what you had, and what you now had, to really go all out.

You cut into another box, opening it to find fake holly and mistletoe, as well as a couple of wreaths.

"So, any particular reason for this excess cheer this year?" You ask, taking the supplies out and setting them in a pile on a nearby table.

At this, he clamps up for a moment, but then shakes his head. "Nothing specifically, it just seemed like a good opportunity! I needed ideas for the next few weeks for activities, why not do something to lift the holiday cheer!"

You think the answer was odd in its wording, but can't think of anything to say in response beyond, "Fair enough."

You're mid-decorating when the lights cut, as is usual for this time in the day.

Without looking up from organizing colored paper and pipe cleaners, you wave in Moon's direction, "Hey, bud. You also in the Christmas spirit?"

No answer.

You look up, and find Moon is entirely motionless. You would think he was powered off if not for the muted clicks and whirls you hear still emitting from him.

You frown. "Moon, you alright?"

"I, what..." He tilts his head, and looks around. "What is all of this? Is something happening? Is there some, odd, birthday party occurring today?"

Your brows furrow, "Well, no. This is, these are Christmas decorations. I mean, holidays overall, but mainly for Christmas."

He takes a step over to where tinsel is hung, picking it up between two fingers. His faceplate twists to the left, then the right. Then, he turns to you.

"...Christmas?"

Now you're the one who's confused.

"I, you mean, how do you—" You stop. "Moon, you don't know what Christmas is?"

He shakes his head slow.

You clasp your hands in front of your mouth, eyes wide at the news.

When you don't say anything, Moon seems to become apprehensive, chuckling awkwardly, "Should, should I?"

Realizing yourself, you shake your head slightly. Taking a deep breath, you break out into a grin, clapping your hands.

"Oh, this is so fun! I can show you so many things and all the traditions. We can put up decorations together, watch movies, do some crafts, oh! We can bake cookies too! Though maybe that's not a good idea to do in the dark and—" You pause, noticing he's just staring at you completely lost. You clear your throat, speaking more slowly now. "Sorry, to answer your question, no not at all. I know you don't get a lot of exposure to everything, so it makes sense, though I don't know why Sun wouldn't—but ah, I'm so excited to tell you! If, if that's alright of course."

Moon tilts his head, and you're afraid you may have just overwhelmed him. You're about to apologize again when he laughs softly.

"I think I would like that, Star." There's a fondness to his words you can't place, it's gone when he seems to notice it himself. "If, you don't mind, that is."

You nod, eager, and can't help yourself as you rush over and take his hand, "I would be honored."

As you turn and lead him towards your grand pile of boxes and decorations, you don't know how fast his faceplate spins the moment after your hands make contact.

You sit down and pat the spot next to you with your free hand, Moon following your lead after a moment.

You shift so that you're sitting cross-legged across from him, and he does the same.

"Okay so..."

You start by explaining the origins of the holiday, what it means for different people, and how people celebrate depending on where they're from and such. You tell him all about every tradition you can think of, including the ones you personally do.

Along the way, you notice Moon's body language shift from apprehensive and confused, to curious, to invested in what you say. It in turn fuels your own excitement as he asks you polite questions every so often, and you deliver every answer with as much detail as you can.

You worry that you may be doing too much again though, so you mention such. "Sorry, I know this is a lot and I'm going super fast, I just, the holidays are really important to me you know?" Your voice grows soft and you look away, laughing shyly. "I um, I don't really get to spend them with many people anymore so I guess I just got super excited since we're friends and all. I'm probably boring you at this point aren't I? I can stop if this is a bit too much."

You start to feel embarrassment creep in. You'd been talking for ages now without stop, save for when he interjected every so often. For all you know Moon could be actually exhausted by how much you've had to say, it's kind of impossible to tell with that immobile faceplate of his.

Color you surprised you feel a hand under your chin, turning your face back up to look at his.

His eyes are narrowed gleefully, and his tone is soft as he gazes down at you.

"You could never bore me, Star." He tilts his head. "You know that, right?"

Your eyes dart to the side, "I, um, I guess not, but still you must be—"

You suddenly find his face taking up your entire field of vision. And, after a moment's hesitation, he quickly plants his grin to your lips, then pulls back. "Whatever you may be thinking, it's quite the opposite. Seeing you so passionate it, it's contagious, and if I could I would ask you to never stop."

Then, he looks away and folding his hands into his lap, making a sound similar to a cough. "Apologies I, I suppose I didn't know a better way to tell you then that. If you that was a step too far please, forgive me."

You however, are too busy trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck onto your face.

You clear your throat. "Moon?"

"Hm?"

"If that's your way of explaining things, I wish you'd have started it sooner." Before you can think on it further, you reach up and grab his collar, pulling him back down to kiss him again.

After a—much longer this time—kiss, you pull away, breathless.

For a moment, Moon doesn't say anything.

Then, "Perhaps now would be the time to ask you about hanging mistletoe around the Daycare?"

"I can think of a few good spots for it."

He chuckles, leaning in once more, "So can I."

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you to @zenkaiankoku for the request! I thought it was super adorable ^_^ Tried to do a mix of your AU with it (which is real cool btw, was reading through it like this 👀👀 the entire time lol) as well :) also had to make Moon a bit lovesick, I feel like suddenly becoming aware of yourself but having someone so willing to guide you would make anyone just fall in love hehe

If you're interested in requesting, you have until 12/13 OR until I recieve 31 requests, currently only have 13 total so plenty of space for more! See here for more details, thanks for reading!

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

#moon being unaware of Christmas is such a cute concept actually like #as you can see #I enjoyed it :)#i hope people get the reference in the title #thought it was a fun riff hehe #fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sundrop #moondrop #dca fic #x reader #MM dca december #also i'm going out in like twenty minutes so I'll post day 5 day 6 and day 7 tomorrow lmaooo #nothing like writing fnaf fic and then IMMEDIATELY getting sloshed /j #this is a JOKE pls drink responsibility

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deepperplexity · 22 days ago

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Prompt 8: Never-ending Consequences [C2]

Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Darkest Night [C1]

A/N: It's Sunday, Second Advent, and time for Turpin's story to continue! He is quite the elusive mystery in this fic and I'm having a blast writing Julianne Brimmer - gosh, I adore her and I feel so connected with her even if we're not the same at all. She's so cute though! 🤭👏

Also, Turpin is very harsh and unyielding in this fic - not in an evil manner but he shows very little and gives very few indications of feeling or thinking anything at all and, honestly, I've been super excited about writing him like that for a change- I¨m all for the swirling storms in his eyes and all that which I usually write him with when he finds his SO but there's just something about him showing basically nothing that has me hooked this year 👀🙈❤

Tags/TW’s: Talkative Character, Harsh Judge Turpin, He Offers Her Sanctuary For The Night, Instant Attraction, Secret Pining, Harsh View Of Oneself, Negative Self-image,

Word Count: 1.5k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Never-ending Consequences

The carriage drew to a halt no more than half an hour later in the middle of central London. “Miss Brimmer,” the judge said in a low, incredibly clear murmur. “I shall provide shelter for the night, my lady.” “Oh, my lord, how good of you,” I said, a wide smile adoring my lips as the man with steel for eyes looked at me in a manner I could not fully determine to be neither good nor bad. Consuming, yes, but unknown to me.

The door opened and the judge stepped out gracefully before offering his hand for me to support my own exit. Such a gentleman, I thought as I grasped his glove-clad hand. It was sturdy and strong, holding me with stability. “Thank you, my lord.” He smiled in a stoic sort of fashion. “We shall send a search party for your carriage when morning comes, Miss Brimmer.” “Thank you, sir. You are most helpful, such a gentleman.” “I can be,” he drawled, releasing my hand and turning a second later with a look to his features I was not certain about.

I followed in his wake, entering the grand townhouse through a large black door only to be met by a gloom that seemed to cling to the very walls of the man’s home. Well, that’s a rather unpleasant feeling for a home. Where are his decorations? Christmas is nearly here, yet there are no garlands or adornments to tell of it.

“Good evening, my lord,” said a woman dressed in a black dress with a white apron and grey hair pinned up. “Miss Brimmer shall stay the night, order the room.” His voice was harsh and direct yet I found it rather thrilling as it filled the entrance hall. Perhaps I hit my head harder than I thought? “Yes, my lord.” The maid stiffly bowed her head as the judge removed his out garments and I found myself lost in adoring thoughts of the manner he was dressed underneath that thick winter coat.

“Miss Brimmer,” the maid said. “May I take your cloak, my lady?” I jolted. “Why certainly, thank you,” I replied in a rush, feeling heat creep up my neck as my eyes finally left the man dressed fully in black with golden details to his frock and vest. There was something about him… I could not put my finger on it yet he drew my attention in a manner none other ever had while his entire being had this unapproachable hardness to it — a harsh power that appeared unyielding. Yes, yes I have absolutely hit my head. I must have, this man is…

I could not term it. Dangerous? Cold? Unreachable? Well, for me, most certainly. Oh, this is grand, to be attracted to a man far out of my reach — that infernal bad luck seems to remain. Pity, I would have liked for things to change but no matter. I am a woman with no consequence to the world, and so I shall remain even when the world seems to throw consequences my way from left and right simultaneously. Perhaps I shall find myself with a cow falling atop my head someday, would be no far stretch to assume bad luck would fall upon me from above, too, given it flanks me on either side.

“Come, I shall walk you,” Judge Turpin said in that dark rumble that seemed to go through me. I blinked, seeing his gaze travel up and down myself. “Thank you, my lord,” I managed to push out as the inferiority of my dress to his exquisite clothes had me nearly sighing. Rid yourself of the idea that there is even a chance, Julianne. Rid yourself of it. This man is not for you, nor will he house any interest in you. He is a man of the law, acting like a gentleman ought to by helping a damsel in distress, obviously.

I followed two steps behind, walking up the stairs toward the upper levels of the house. “You mentioned the Christmas Ball?” he said without looking back at me. What a good thing too or he would have found me admiring the broadness of his shoulders. “Oh, why yes, yes. I’m not one for such frivolous things usually but one must endure for the sake of one’s future, my lord.” “Is that so?” I smiled for myself, a contrite thing covering my lips. “Yes. As you already pointed out I ought to be a Mrs rather than a Miss, my lord. I am not one men find attractive, or interesting, for that matter. I do not mind, bad luck follows wherever I go and I pity the man who ends up wed to the equivalent of a black cat crossing a road under a ladder and knocking a mirror down with its tail simultaneously, my lord.” He did not react to my words, not that I could tell at least.

We stepped through a hallway while I spoke rather freely. There was no need to hide myself from the harsh man, he was not within my reach either way — I still continued to allow myself the handsome view of him, though, I was not to be in his company for long so I ought to make the most of it I figured.

“You speak harshly of yourself,” he said in a rather darkened tone after a moment. I chuckled. “No, my lord, I speak honestly about myself when possible.” “When possible?” he asked, stopping outside a door and once more turning toward me, those steely eyes hooking mine without a flicker of motion in them yet I was utterly trapped. A bunny in a snare. “Yes. Should you be within my reach I might not disclose my faults so freely but I am a woman of little consequence in the presence of a gentleman of the law. Truth must find its freedom in such situations, do you not agree, Judge Turpin?”

I kept eye contact, a tingling sensation filling me within as he viewed me most harshly. I rather liked that, truth be told. There was no insincere smile, no false pretence or acting.

He arched a brow at me, the action sharp and well-practised it appeared. “Truth, you say?” “Yes, my lord. I do endeavour to be honest but that almost always lands me in some form of predicament. I am simply not made for society and all its falsities. I try, my lord, yet I fear I shall never master the skill.” I smiled at him as my cheeks heated. Well, this is going jolly good. I am already making a fool of myself in his presence. Even though it does not matter I am truthfully saddened by my own words, I think.

“You declare me out of your reach,” he drawled. “That is quite the freedom you’ve claimed, Miss Brimmer.” My eyes widened as the warmth left my cheeks. “Goodness, no, sir. I meant to take no freedoms or liberties, I am merely aware of my standing, my lord. One ought to always remember one's standing in society, to know one's place is most important. Especially when in the company of someone far grander, my lord.” He arched his brow again. “Grander?” I spluttered, my body not knowing if it wished to pale or blush. “Y-yes, my lord. I am merely the daughter of a master smith, a woman who has known hard labour and little comforts. I would never assume myself grand enough to stand in your presence or be offered aid from such a grand man so I am remembering my place in your fine company, my lord.” “Talkative, are we?” “Oh, yes, my lord. One of my many faults. I apologize for occupying your time with my—” “None occupies my time.” “My lord?”

He stepped closer and my back stiffened as a waft of the musty scent he smelled of hit me. It was quite the delicious scent, truth be told, and I had to stop myself from inhaling deeply. “None occupy my time. My time is spent how I see fit,” he said in a manner that was both decisive and commanding. “Yes, of course, sir. I apologize.” Well, this is going utterly great. Gosh, if I have to endure another hardship on this wretched earth I shall surely implode. “I shall see you in the morning, Miss Brimmer. Eight o’clock sharp.” I bowed my head, feeling idiotic and like a nuisance to the man who so kindly helped me far beyond what necessity required. “Yes, sir. Thank you, my lord.”

He walked off toward the end of the hall without another word. His steps were long and the thudding of his footfalls loud. What a man… No, no, get your head out of the clouds! This is all bad luck one more time. Do not-, Julianne, do not fall for the gentleman you cannot have. Stop it, right this instance. And why am I still looking at him?! As my tirade ended he opened his bedroom door and closed it behind him. “Foolish, Julianne. Not only foolish but you made yourself into a fool in his presence. Well done, absolutely fantastic of you. Wasting the man's time with your blabbering. Idiot.”

To Be Continued...

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

NEXT PART » Prompt 10: Lingering Touch [C3]

A/N: He does tell her she's not occupying his time - that has to mean something, right? 👀 Gosh they are such a mismatched pair and I can't wait to solve how they're going to end up together - I'm thinking some drama, some darkness, and perhaps a close call or two? 🤭❤

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @dontwanttobeanamercanidiot @sunnylikesfrogs @dianilaws @snapesno1thighrider @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @cherihan @poetry-and-tea @evans23 @mamawolfsmith87 @snapesrn @severussimp @slyckman @liv2post @clawsthecactus @goldenglowwoman @elizabeth-baelish @severuslovebot @thethotthatbreathes @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @commodoreseverus @reinekefoxart @lght-n-drk @cathym1102 @ankhmutes @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @thatlittlefangirl @sanji-simp @ankhmutes @lessdepressy @snapesrn @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @daddythanatos @sanji-simp

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#rickmas2024 #rickmas #turpin fic #alan rickman #rickmaniac #turpin x female oc #christmas fanfic #judge turpin #judge turpin fic #judge turpin fanfiction #sweeney todd #stoic turpin #harsh turpin

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snowblossomreads · 1 year ago

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Day 4: Sharing

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem!Reader

Summary: In where Severus is reminded that it's almost the first Christmas he and [Y/n] will be sharing and he goes to try and make it special

Tag(s)/Warning(s): fluff fluff and more fluff

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: And in something totally different once again! Here is a short little fluffy fluff about Snape and his almost first Christmas with his beloved [Y/n]. (See @deepperplexity i do know how to use the prompts in non unhinged ways are u proud of me 🤣🤣?)

The streets of Hogsmeade was filled with the bustling crowds of witches and wizards doing their holiday shopping as Christmas rapidly approached meaning that people were in a tizzy trying to purchase gifts for their loved ones.

And of course a treat for themselves.

Cheer and glee were on the faces of almost all of those who were bustling about spreading warmth in the cold air with just their attitude. All except one person named Severus Snape, who seemed to have had enough of people bumping into him as he tried to maneuver his way as swiftly as possible away from the crowd.

He should have known when he went out looking for a present for [Y/n] that he would face the tiring challenge of people. Yet he had been so caught up with preparing for the coming semester and his own experimentations that he had lost tracked of time.

And when she had brightly told him that she was excited that they would be sharing their first Christmas together in only a few days he realized he had proverbially dropped the ball.

On the outside he was his calm and collected self, agreeing with her as he was truly looking forward to sharing the holiday with someone other than himself. There was a small part of him that hated to admit that it in the past it was a bit lonely seeing all the people merrily celebrating.

Even when the Hogwarts staff tried to romp him in to their holiday shenanigans he was quick to get away not at all wanting to be invested in whatever they were up to. It was a way of punishing himself, as someone like him didn't deserve to have fun. Didn't deserve to have happy things because of what he had done and what he had caused.

[Y/n] though was having none of it when she came into his life. And he was grateful for it.

But he digressed.

That was on the outside, calm and collected as he usually seemed now and days. On the inside though he was quickly listing the things that he knew she adored and began to make a plan.

Oh yes, he would do his best to make sure the first Christmas they spent together was as lovely as his [Y/n].

First was to her favorite bakery where he was unsurprisingly met with a large line of people queuing up and waiting for their turn as it seemed that everyone had the idea to come at the same time.

An annoyance absolutely, but at least no one dared to talk to him while they were in line as he glared at anyone who seemed to want to make conversation. 20 minutes had passed and he had secured her favourite treats which included some pumpkin pasties that had extra holiday flavour in them as he had been told.

He had no idea what that meant.

A few cinnamon rolls that were topped with an abundance of sweet cream and a few more savory mini pastries that he knew she fancied.

Next was a trinket store, that she always gazed at when they walked passed though she never went in, only saying she didn't need more knick nacks laying around.

Well it was Christmas and what was wrong with a few more especially if the were useful and brought her joy.

So he went in expecting to find nothing yet he ended up coming out with a set of colour changing ink and quill, a trinket box for her little collection of rings and earrings in that played music while opened and also could sort the items for her. That aspect he found interesting thinking about what charm was placed on it to get it to do so.

And also he may have bought some dusty looking spellbook that he had never seen before which intrigued him along with self labeling potion bottle that showed what ingredients were in it.

Huh who knew that shop had so many things.

Pleased with his purchases he barreled his way through the crowd ready to finally be at home exhausted from all the pushy witches and wizard. Walking quickly to an alley way off the beaten streets of the village he took inventory of what he had making sure nothing was crushed or missing. Once he made sure everything was where he wanted, he apparated silently back home where [Y/n] was sitting in his wingback chair reading.

Well, that was until he suddenly apparated into the middle of the sitting room.

"Severus Snape! Merlin's beard!" she shrieked almost tumbling out of the chair being startled half to death by him. "I thought you told me no one can apparate in and out of the house? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

His lips turned upward in a smirk at her words as he watched her get up from her seat and stalk up to him with a small pout.

"Hm yes I do remember telling you that," he answered matter of factly, leaning down and brushing his lips against her forehead causing her to grumble, "though I may have left off that I'm the exception. I did live here for years after all."

Pressing his lips against her forehead in a chaste kiss, he moved down and kissed her nose, before hovering over her lips waiting for her to move.

"You're the worse you know that," she mumbled shaking her head before closing the distance and kissing him showing him that she wasn't angry just startled.

"Mhm."

He kissed her softly before moving to her cheek and kissing her there making her giggle as he pulled away.

"Your lips are so cold darling here go put all those bags away," she started pausing only when she saw the amount of bags and being yet again surprised. He said he was going out potion ingredient shopping and from the looks of it he had bought the whole stock of them. "And I'm sure it'll take you a while Severus did you go on a shopping spree without me?! Oh never mind I'll make us some tea it should be done by the time you've sorted it all out!"

Without another word she was off leaving Severus with a pile of bags not even suspecting that most of the things were for her.

When she had come back out of the kitchen tea floating behind her she was surprised once more when she found a plate full of her favorite snacks sitting on the little table in between her chair and Severus'.

He had paid her no mind when she had come back, acting as if he was reading the new book her had purchased yet he was keenly aware of her presences. It was only when she had sat the tea down did she take a look at all the snacks that were waiting for them.

"Severus?" His name came out shyly as she wandered to his side making him put his book down and turn to look at her.

"Did you buy all of those for me?"

Her eyes twinkled in the warmly lit room and he nodded.

"Mhm I passed by the bakery you always go to and decided to stop by," he answered coolly as if he hadn't been squished in the shop when he got in. "Hopefully this is a good festive start to our almost first Christmas together?"

Grinning at him, [Y/n] leaned over the arm of his chair to plant a kiss on his cheek overwhelmed with excitement as she skipped over to her own seat. Plopping down she poured them both some tea and happily partook in one of the pasties groaning happily at spiced pumpkin filling.

"It's an excellent start darling," she beamed. "Thank you!"

A rare smile, well not so rare for her, appeared on Severus' lips at how happy she looked as she bit into the treat and he felt as happy as she looked at the thought of the cheer to come. It was nice to share such a time with her thought before going back to his book and relaxing in the ambience of the warm room and his warm love.

A/N: see i am capable of using the prompts normally! see you guys on day 7 prompts! (she's taking a little break to avoid writing angst 😌)

#severus snape x reader #severus x reader #snape x reader #rickmas #rickmas2023 #blossom writes

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perseephoneee · 1 year ago

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have yourself a merry little christmas (jamie tartt x f! reader) ficmas 2023

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ happy day 1 of ficmas!

prompt: you and jamie are forced to participate in a holiday talent show

a/n: feeling very sad bc i'm not at i was feeling festive in mystic falls but this made me feel slightly okay. i wish this was better but i hope it's okay though *cries* also here are the videos i was referencing throughout this fic video 1 video 2.

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2023

You're still determining whose idea it was to have a holiday talent contest with the Richmond team, but whoever it was had your most profound hatred. Not because you wouldn't enjoy watching the team make fools of themselves, but because now you were pressured to participate.

It happened about a week ago when you stayed late at the facility. You stayed late to finish a project for Rebecca and noticed later how low the sun had gotten. Peering out your window, you swore over the passing sunset. Fatigue plagued you, and you knew you'd probably just pass out in bed when you got home. Deciding to freshen yourself up, you ventured downstairs to the kit room, where you knew Will kept extra towels. You just wanted to wash your face, waking up your bleary eyes for the road. As you entered the room to grab a towel, you could hear voices from the showers.

Should you have walked into the men's room? Probably not. But you were always curious, and you were already in the room by the time you felt any hesitancy. Peering around one of the corners, you could hear the soft sounds of singing coming from one of the stalls. The raining water dampened the sound slightly, but it didn't suppress the beauty of the voice you heard.

"Birds flying high, you know how I feel..."

Whoever was singing sounded like an angel. You didn't even know that any of the boys were singers, but now you were more than intrigued. You got lost in the singing, your back pressed against the tile wall, to the point that you were late to notice the sound of the shower turning off. Snapping out of your reverie, you waited until said player left to compliment their singing. Of course, said player ended up being Jamie Tartt.

"What the hell, Y/N!" Jamie swore, a hand held over his heart as he came around the corner and saw you.

"Why didn't you tell anyone you could sing?" You slouched off the wall, arms crossed, as you looked at Jamie with a sly smile.

"Why'd you got to hide in the men's bathroom like that?" He looked at you with furrowed brows, a slight blush coating his cheeks. You had never caught Jamie off guard before, and it made butterflies dance in your stomach. Having a crush on Jamie was a given; anyone with eyes could see how gorgeous he was. The difference is you've had the pleasure of seeing him grow.

"Does anyone else know you can sing?" You inquired.

"No, I keep that to me-self," Jamie mumbled, shoving his hands in his shirt and avoiding eye contact.

"You have a beautiful voice," you said smallly. "See you around, Tartt." You walked out of the bathroom, leaving him behind as you daydreamed about Jamie's voice all the way home.

The next day was when he got payback. Office days can be extremely long and tiring; sometimes you just like to hunker down with some tea and focus on finishing your work. You had your door closed, feet curled up under you as you worked on finishing your reports. You sang softly to yourself to pass the time.

"I've been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted; your dad is always mad, and that must be why."

Jamie burst in the door, finger pointing at you and expressing I-got-you-now.

"Bloody hell," you swore, jolting back and almost knocking over your tea.

"Well, well, look, whos been keeping a secret?" Jamie smiled, sauntering over to your desk. You gave him a pointed glare.

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"Maybe," He said, his accent making it sound like 'may-bay.'

"Have you heard of privacy?" You sighed.

"Have you?"

"Touche," you smiled. Jamie was still looking at you, as expected. You gestured for him to spit out whatever he wanted to say. "Spit it out."

"You'll see soon enough," Jamie cooed, walking backward from your office. You didn't trust whatever he had up his sleeve, which was proven later by Ted bounding in with his usual enthusiasm. You liked Ted; he was unbelievably kind and hilarious, but you were pretty suspicious when he came in with a shit-eating grin.

"Y/N! I'm so excited to hear the news," he smiled, hands in his pockets.

"Uh, what news?" you raised your brows, fingers stilling on your keyboard.

"That you'll be performing in our little holiday talent show that Higgins is putting on this year," Ted laughs. "When I saw your name, I have to admit I was surprised. I didn't expect you to sign up-- but I'm so glad you did."

Jamie fucking Tartt, that little shit. You knew this was his doing. By the heavens, you wanted to tell Ted right now that this was all a mistake, but seeing how excited he was made you pause. You had never performed in front of people before, not since you were 8 years old and forced to be in a school-wide production of Peter Pan. But you could work this to your advantage. If Jamie thought he could get away with this, then he was in for a treat.

"I'm also glad I signed up," you chuckled, clasping your hands on your desk.

"Be warned though-- Beard and I have a pretty nifty performance up our sleeves," Ted finger-gunned, skipping out of your office with a wave. Oh, you were in deep shit.

The holiday talent show was later that weekend. It was Higgin's idea to get everyone together, especially since many of the boys couldn't go home for the season. Keeley was the one who thought having a friendly competition would be exciting. The prize was, of course, a ridiculous crown someone bought and dinner on the team. It was being hosted at Higgin's place, a very comfy home near Nelson Road. You were dressed in a simple but classy maroon velvet dress that you paired with boots and a sparkly clip pulling back your hair. Christmas crackers were exploding from the tote bag you carried, the gifts for the team and your co-workers. Gift-giving was in your nature, and you couldn't come empty-handed.

Keeley was the one who answered the door, dressed in black with pearl accessories and looking every part a gorgeous holiday ornament.

"Oh my gosh, Y/N, you look amazing!" Keeley gushed, pulling you inside and suffocating you in a hug.

"I could say the same for you," you laughed, taking off your coat and shucking it in the closet.

"This old thing? Just something I found lying around," Keeley smoothed down her dress, sending you a sly smile as she wrapped her arm in yours. "Did you bring gifts?"

"Of course, that's my MO," you playfully smacked Keeley's arm as she took the bag out of your hands, putting it under the tree directly to the right of the foyer. Several people were already there, and you took time to say hello while graciously sipping the sparkling wine that was provided. When Jamie came in, you ended up in the corner with Sam discussing your favorite holiday movies (you were trying to convince him that Die Hard was a Christmas movie and that any other opinion is wrong). Your voice got stuck in your throat.

You had seen Jamie dressed up before, but somehow, in the warm light from the fire, it seemed so different. He was wearing a simple black blazer and button-up, but it's like he was stripped bare for you to see. He looked devilishly handsome, and you would be lying if you said you didn't have butterflies dancing through your chest and lungs.

Unfortunately for your sanity, Jamie noticed you and took a pause before sending you a small smile. You waved back, a flush crossing your cheeks as you turned away to continue your conversation with Sam. You were saved from any more awkward reactions by Beard announcing it was time for the talent show to commence. Everyone gathered in the living room, some boys sitting on the ground like kids listening to story time and others (like yourself) standing in the back, excited to watch the festivities commence.

"Thank you for coming to my home tonight," Higgins started, taking a slight bow when everyone whooped and hollered. "I'm excited to spend the season with my friends and family and even more excited to see what you guys have in store for us! Without further ado, I'm pleased to welcome our esteemed coaches to the stage."

More cheering commenced as Ted, Beard, and even Roy "ascended" to the stage (a carpet thrown on the ground). Roy looked exasperated to be there, but Beard and Ted were putting on their game faces as the music started, and they performed "Love Shack" by the B-52s. You couldn't stop the laugh from leaving your throat as you saw them honestly give their all.

"I am so glad I am here to see this," Jamie whispered, coming up on your right and sending you into a mini heart attack.

"Gees, you scared me," you sent him a glare, for which he only winked back.

"Roy looks so happy to be here," Jamie smiled, pointing to Roy, who was playing the tambourine with the same enthusiasm you had for paying your taxes.

"I'm sure it was all his ideas," you answered, bumping Jamie's shoulder with your own.

"Oi, when is Roy Kent going to sing!" Jamie yelled, proceeding to get flipped off by Roy right as Ted and Beard broke into choreographed dancing.

The night continued in much the same fashion, with you and Jamie giving your commentary the whole time. Sam did spoken word poetry, several of the boys did dances, and Rebecca, dropped the mic with a chilling performance of Holy Night. You were having so much fun with Jamie that you forgot he had signed you up to perform.

"Okay, okay, we got a treat tonight. Our very own Y/N is performing with a special guest-- Jamie Tartt!" Higgins announced, gesturing for you two to get on stage. Jamie looked at you with confusion, and you suppressed the laugh that wanted to escape.

"Oh, didn't I mention I signed you up to perform with me," you smiled cheekily, winking at him as he looked at you flabbergasted. You hopped on the stage, ignoring the nerves spreading throughout your body as Jamie reluctantly joined you. The rest of the team was having the time of their life watching Jamie be uncomfortable, and you were enjoying your revenge. He sent you a death glare right as the music started, and you kept your eyes on him to not die of stage fright.

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas; let your heart be light."

"From now on, our troubles will be out of sight."

Your voice carried across the room, and you saw a few surprised looks as everyone registered that you could actually sing. Feeling more confident, you turned to your friends and sent a small smile.

"Oh, here we are, as in olden days, happy golden days of yours."

Jamie came in with that croon that you couldn't get out of your head, and the jaws that dropped in the room were astronomical. He started playing it up for your friends as you made up your own dance on the "stage," even figuring out a harmony at some point.

The energy was palpable, and, by its end, it received standing ovations. You took Jamie's hand in yours, taking a bow. Ted came onto the stage, holding paper crowns and silencing the audience.

"I think we have a unanimous winner, don't we?" Ted asked, earning applause and a 'hell yeah' from Rebecca somewhere in the room. Ted crowned Jamie a red crown that he situated perfectly lopsided. He gave you a smile as he took the blue crown from Ted. You bowed your head as he placed it on, ensuring it fit perfectly. The kindness in his eyes was suffocating, and without caring for everyone in the room, you grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him. You could vaguely hear everyone in the room cheering, but you didn't care as Jamie kissed you back, wrapping an arm around your back.

You both smiled at each other and laughed at your friends' faces. Dani even took photos, which he was already sending to the team. Wrapping your arms around Jamie's neck, you looked at him and buried your face in his jacket.

"We're never going to live this down."

"I'm still going to get you back for making me sing," Jamie whispered, earning a chuckle from you.

"I'll look forward to it."

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ tagging people who liked original post

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#jamie tartt #ficmas 2023 #12 days of ficmas #ted lasso #ted lasso fics #ted lasso imagine #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt x reader #phil dunster #my writing

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cloveroctobers · 23 days ago

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one of these — 3. Alex Cross [Winter Prompts]

A/N: Where is the content for Aldis period?!!! I’ve been waiting since underground (2016) Him and Edwin will always be appreciated around here! Anyways I’m here with some fluff because it’s already winter in my mind and that’s usually what I try to write more of during this festive yet ugly cold weather. Enjoy some sweetness and foolishness? 🤍

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: ACTIVITIES — Snow down the back of the neck, 1. forced to plan and execute a Christmas feast.

WARNINGS: language, stress of the holidays, & fluff.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

A soft sigh of satisfaction falls past your lips just as you’re closing your famous pot roast into the oven to do its thing for the next few hours. Your balled fists go to your hips as you stand up straight in front of the closed oven, a small smile playing on them before it’s wiped right off.

It’s a biting cold sensation, wet and slushy as it’s drips down the back of your neck and rolls beneath the collar of your house coat. Hissing you whip your body around, hand reaching up to wipe off the remains of the snow racing to get down your spine. You’re half expecting it to be the kids who did this accidentally but the deep chuckle of laughter brings a glare to your face.

“Alex, You play too much!” You hold the back of your neck, trying to wipe it dry with the cotton of the robe.

The man is pulling off his insulated gloves, white teeth gleaming against the contrast of his pretty umber skin, “Mornin’ baby. I’d say I don’t play enough since you volunteered my services to that boiled egg head motherfucker across the street…when you know I don’t like that man.”

You huff, tugging the ends of your silk bonnet over your kitchen, double-checking to make sure none of the snow touched that area because if it did? Your fiancé just might have to be worried about getting ran over by you instead of the reindeer. “See…if you would have just asked before you gave attitude and walked off, you would have known that it was nana mama who did that, not me.”

Alex blinks with a raise of his brows, “Now why would she do that?”

“She’s friendly with the guy,” you shrug, “She’s even invited him over to the big feast later on.”

“Oh hell naw.” Alex frowns with a shake of his head, “It’s bad enough I had to listen to how cheap he is about not calling a snow company when he’s got benefits as a vet. Not only that, his lonely ass talks a lot of shit and dont nobody want to hear that in their own home.”

You scoff, “Well good luck telling nana mama that. Also you can’t just uninvite someone…especially on Christmas.”

Alex quickly titled his head, “We didn’t though and that’s nana mama’s problem.”

It was your turn to raise your brows, “It’s gonna be your problem if you don’t approach it right when you’re speaking to her.” You point the kitchen knife at the taller man who stares blankly at the utensil before you turn to place it into the sink, “Also you owe me an apology for assuming.”

Alex lets out a dramatic sigh as he stomps over to you, arms locking across your shoulders as he brought his lips to your ear, “I’m sorry for doing you like that. Yet…I’ve never seen you jump that high since that one time you thought you saw a mouse but it was nana mama’s wig.”

Your elbow goes right into his ribcage, making him groan and loosen his grip on you, followed by a cough of laughter. “You think you’re so funny but you and I both know that I lost my contacts that day. And clearly you lost your mind trying to mess with me when we’re being forced to do this feast.”

“Aw c’mon…I thought it would get a laugh outta you…and originally to get my lick back,” Alex admits with his hand resting on the side of the top of his torso while you simply roll your eyes but would later appreciate the honesty. The bearded man reaches out to you again, hands fighting to intertwine with yours as he starts to sing off key, “So shouldn't I realize, You're the highest of the high. If you don't know, then I'll say it, So don't ever wonder.”

It’s your turn to groan as Alex brings his cool lips to the warmth of your neck, placing a kiss there after trying to woo you with his terrible singing. That was one of his favorite tunes to sing to you and thankfully he hasn’t had any of that brown liquor or else this would be ten times worse.

When Alex is peppering your face with kisses, trying to sway you into his arms, your resolve breaks some despite you still trying to push him off of you. Being in his embrace was one of your favorite places to be, especially when it took time for you two to get here. Alex was big on physical touch. It all started out as nothing, meeting him at DC’s staple spot, Ben’s Chili bowl, with John before it actually turned into something. You weren’t necessarily in the streets or looking to date someone with kids, initially you were just open to keeping things casual and Alex was still healing with the tragic passing of his late wife.

It took work, the both of you had walls up but it’s been awhile since someone showed you that they were deserving of your time. Alex just loved to learn that he was running through your mind all day—his words of course—and had no issue putting the work in once he realized he was able to love again. You gave this a chance—although leery at the beginning—because you saw the good in Alex Cross. Saw his heart for what it is and finding that you liked being able to be part of it.

He shows you everyday why you should be…even if he had to get a little vengeful by putting some snow on you for something you didn’t do but that will be dealt with.

“I bought you something,” Alex says pulling his chin from on top of your bonnet and digging into his jacket pocket, “If you were wondering what was taking me longer than usual to get back…I snuck out to your spot, waited in line a little bit to get those peppermint bark cookies and those nasty ass gingerbread cookies for the kids too.”

You actually spot the smiley brown cookies, after peering around Alex’s taller frame, resting on the island counter.

A grin finds its way to your face as Alex holds out the wrapped dessert in festive paper and red ribbon to you. Christmas was always your favorite holiday and you raved about these cookies last night in bed saying that they would give you strength to do this large feast. It was all nana mama’s idea since you know, church folk like to get to talking but act like they don’t.

It’s not like the older woman ever needed to find something to talk about but she didn’t appreciate the ladies hinting that her own household couldn’t get down in the kitchen. Christmas Eve was spent at the church for a couple of hours and then Christmas Day was supposed to be a little more smoother where everyone did their own thing in their own homes but this year just had to be different.

Alex finds himself grinning too, watching the custom Pearl and oval engagement ring (which was given to you six months ago) glimmer against your finger as you plucked the cookies from his grasp. You’re making quick work unraveling the cherry and mistletoe decorated paper to take a bite of the peppermint cookies and hum.

“How is it?” Alex questions, already taking the hint at the sight of your eyes closing, “Everything it’s cracked up to be?”

Opening your eyes you nod, “Better than last years.”

“I think that’s just the baby talking,” Alex smirks as his hands go to your hips, softly running his thumbs against your sides.

You scoff, “You’re acting as if I’m deep into this pregnancy.”

You actually weren’t that far along into your second trimester. It wasn’t ideal being pregnant during your wedding so you were absolutely okay with pushing the date back to 2026, enjoying your timeline together the way it needs to be on your shared terms.

“I mean—

“Don’t start, Alex. You’re already on thin got damn ice.” You warn, pointing a finger at him.

He laughs, “Not snow?”

You’re shoving him out the way but he easily moves with you, still laughing.

He dips his head, “Can I get a bite, though?”

“Of this ass.” You flick your hand making Alex frown.

“…That’s not the insult you think it is.” He comments, hands shifting to grip your backside.

Rolling your eyes at his grinning and kissing the crumbs from the corner of your mouth, he lets you go just as you say, “John-Sam said don’t forget the smoked ham hocks for the greens.”

Alex whips his head to look at you, “Huh?”

“Yup.” You sigh, already knowing where this was going but decided to shift the conversation, “Can you take out the glazed ham nana mama made and set it aside so we can warm it back up in the oven once the roast is finished? My back’s a little achy today.”

Alex nods letting you know he’s heard that part, “Yeah of course, you should relax and let me handle everything else…but let’s run that back. I was making the black eyed peas since John deliberately left the greens yesterday and we had to settle for Kayla’s fuck ass green bean casserole.”

You can’t help but to snicker at that.

You were still shocked that John actually brought Kayla to dinner, although you figured out what was going on before John even told Alex. It just seemed like a fling to you but you honestly didn’t think Kayla was John’s type for the time that you got to know him but you minded your business.

Shrugging you say, “I don’t know. He texted saying something came up but he would still be here tonight.”

Alex is shaking his head, palms resting on the counter in annoyance, “What does that mean? If it was already made then why would I have to prepare the whole dish? Who am I, Anthony Hamilton all of a sudden? John’s the main one who claims he makes the best greens when we know that’s a lie! It’s solid but…This motherfucker right here.” He scowls.

“Okay,” you say around a bubble of laughter, “you got one more M-FER to drop before you owe some coin to the Samuel L. Jackson jar.”

Alex scoffs as you rest your hand on top of his, “It’s fine. You’ve pulled off a lot in shorter amount of time. It’s about to be eight, you can do this.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to.” Alex mumbles, “Now I got to go downstairs and get them from the deep freezer. They’re about to stink up the whole house while I clean and soak em. I wasn’t trying to get into that today. Something simple, mostly leftovers. The sisters won’t even know the difference. I should call John up right now—

“Nope,” you say, “You’re supposed to be on your best behavior.”

He side eyes you, “Says who?”

“I do. Baby does. Nana mama and the kiddies.” You reply listing off all the people he deeply loved as you step back from the counter, “…And just look it at as payback for attacking your pregnant wife to be. See how the lord works in mysterious ways? God don’t like ugly.”

Alex’s round eyes were almost buldging in annoyance as you fight back laughter, taking another bite of the cookie and chewing smugly. “The only ugly motherfucker I know is John.”

“You’re wrong for that and that’s not correct.”

“Hold up, Whatchu say?” Alex’s stepping towards you now as you laugh, escaping the kitchen.

Alex shakes his head in annoyance as he tosses his head back, staring up at the ceiling before deciding to let out some laughter but mostly in disbelief. He catches you around the corner, peeking around the fridge. He raises his brows in question at you regardless of how cute you appeared.

“I love you.”

Which almost instantly melts his irritation away, “I love you too, baby.”

“Be good.” You lightly warn, “Help yourself to a cookie.”

“…Which one’s?” He smirks after glancing away from the desserts and eyeing you up and down.

“Bye Alex!” You scoff, disappearing from his sight.

The both of you end up mirroring similar smiles on different sides of the house.

Continue with my winter anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #queued #winter prompts #winter writes #holiday prompts #cross #cross series #cross amazon #cross tv show #alex cross #Alex cross x reader #Alex cross x black!reader #aldis hodge #aldis hodge x reader

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middleearthpixie · 16 days ago

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I'll See You in My Dreams ~ Chapter Four

Summary: Noelle James knows soul mates exist, the trouble is, she just can’t seem to find hers. Especially since hers seemed to have existed only in the world of cinema and The Hobbit movies. No one believes she actually spent time in Tolkien’s Middle Earth and even fewer believe Thorin Oakenshield existed in her world, either.

So when she finds herself unexpectedly alone on yet another Christmas, she has no way of knowing exactly what the universe has in store for her this time.The trouble is, this man claiming to be Thorin can’t possibly be him, for he died at the hands of Azog the Defiler at Ravenhill. She saw him die with her own eyes.

So, it can’t be him.

Or can it?

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Noelle James

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.4k

Read on AO3

Noelle set her keys in the crystal bowl and closed the door behind her with her free hand. Thorin strode into the living room, where he set the Orcrist down on the coffee table, just as he’d done the last time he was in her apartment.

She couldn't help but smile as he shrugged out of his coat, tossed it haphazardly over the arm of the sofa, then moved to the windows across from the sofa, the windows that offered up such an amazing view of New York City. He apparently hadn’t lost his fascination with the view from said windows, as he stood before them, hands clasped behind his back, and just peered out at the world like a king surveying his domain.

Of course, he was a king. This just wasn't exactly his domain.

A king.

He certainly had the bearing of a king, as he stood there, reflected in the glass. She had a small artificial Christmas tree on the table in the corner, its twinkling lights highlighting his features, dancing along the tangle of black curls the spilled halfway down his broad back. Even if she didn't know he was a king, she would have guessed he was a man of importance, just by that bearing alone.

“So little has changed since I was last here,” he remarked without looking over his shoulder.

“No, it probably hasn’t.” She hung her coat on the rack mounted to the wall just inside the door, then joined him, trying to see her world through his eyes. Impossible. She’d been born and raised in this world. There was nothing new or unusual as far as she was concerned. The styles of cars down below may have changed, buildings might have been built or torn down, neighborhoods went to slum, were gentrified, or remained the playground of the wealthy, but overall, New York City itself never changed.

She peered over at him. “Has your world changed?”

“Since Ravenhill?” He nodded. “Very much so. Esgaroth is now completely rebuilt and Dale is once more a great and bustling center of trade as well. Erebor is almost finished in its rebirth. But…”

A low sigh leaked through his lips and she waited for him to finish his thought. When he remained silent, she prompted, “But what?”’

“Clouds of war continue to gather across the whole of Middle Earth,” he replied without turning away from the window. “Azog is dead, but another has taken his place and the orcs grow more powerful with each year.”

“So, do you think they will try to conquer all of Middle Earth?”

“I do, yes.”

He said it softly, with no little finality in his voice. Noelle turned to him. “So, maybe we need to go back to Turtle Pond? Or do you think that’s why you’re here? Like last time, when I was supposed to keep you from getting run through, only I screwed it up. Am I supposed to watch Lord of the Rings to maybe figure it out?”

“Who is the Lord of the Rings?”

“You know, the One Ring? Bilbo found it in Goblintown and carried it all the way through the Battle of the Five Armies. It’s how—how he got to Ravenhill so fast…” She pursed her lips briefly, then added, “At least, that’s how your people think it happened. Since I was erased from your world.”

Thorin rubbed his forehead with one hand. “It’s far too difficult to keep up with everything. I couldn't tell you how you and Bilbo came to be up there. I just know you were there.”

“We fought our way up there, believe it or not.” Noelle managed a smile. “I was the most inept fighter in the world, but I managed to not get killed. All I managed to do was not remember how to keep you from being run through until it was too late.”

“Noelle, it wasn't your fault. It had to happen that way. I know that, even if I don't entirely understand why no one remembers you were there. Master Baggins said nothing about a ring.”

“No one remembers because they couldn’t. Because that’s not how Tolkien’s story was written or how the movie’s plot unfolded, and there’d be a hell of a lot of really confused fanboys out there, if all of the sudden, ten, fifteen years after those movies came out, the story somehow changed.

“As for Bilbo not saying anything, I don't know why he kept quiet about it, other than he just didn't want anyone to know, which is reason enough, I guess. Unfortunately, none of that even offers up a hint as to why you’re here to begin with.”

“It doesn’t, no,” he admitted, and this time, he did turn toward her. “I just know that for some reason, I was brought here again. And this time, it had nothing to do with the waters in Mirkwood, for I was in Erebor when suddenly I was here.”

“Really?”

“I was taking in a bit of air when it happened. So, I imagine I’m supposed to be here for some reason.” He reached out to curve his hand against her cheek. “I know not what that reason is just yet. But, I do know I’ve missed you.”

As he spoke, he swept his thumb along her cheek, leaving a swath of tingles in his wake. Still, she smiled as she shook her head. “Why do I think you haven’t even thought about me these last three years?”

“Has it been that long?”

That quelled the tingles even as she nodded. “Yeah. It’s been that long. At least, here it has been. I don’t know, maybe time is different on your side of the wormhole.”

The moment lost, she drew back, turning to go into the small kitchen. “I’m going to pour a glass of wine. Want one?”

“Have I said something I shouldn’t?”

A hint of confusion wove through his words, one she tried to ignore as she tugged open her refrigerator door to grab the bottle of chardonnay. She certainly couldn’t tell him that his answer wasn't quite what she’d expected, but she also couldn’t tell him that she’d wanted to hear him say she was wrong, that of course he pined for her. Just as she’d pined for him.

No. She frowned as she tugged the stopper from the bottle and reached for the glass on the sideboard. That wasn't right. She didn't pine for him. She’d mourned him and that was completely different.

“Noelle?”

She peered over her shoulder to see him in the doorway, his brow furrowed and his expression troubled. “What?”

“Did I say the wrong thing?”

“No. I just—I have to remember that our experiences are pretty different.” She filled the glass about two-thirds of the way, then lifted it to her lips. “You thought I went home and I thought you were dead.”

“And you’re angry because I’m not?”

“What? No, of course not!” The wine was smooth and buttery and one of her favorites, but she only barely tasted it as she lowered the glass once more. “But…”

“But what?”

“What happened after I left?”

“I told you,” he came into the kitchen, stepping around her to sink into one of the two chairs at the small round table tucked into the far corner of the long, narrow room, “I awoke in the infirmary in Erebor and when I asked about you, no one had any inkling as to who I was talking about. I’d say your name and the response was always the same. Who? There was no one here called Noelle.”

“It was as if I’d never existed, wasn't it?” Although she expected it, his nod sank her spirits some just the same. “Fíli, Bilbo, Bofur… not a one of them remembered me, did they?”

Thorin hesitated, then slowly shook his head. “I stopped asking about you, for anytime I did ask, the person I’d asked looked at me as if I’d gone mad. I thought they would become convinced I’d fallen into the dragon sickness once more.”

“The same thing happened here after you left when we were in Central Park. No one remembered you. Any picture I had of you, your face was impossible to see. Anything I had that you’d written was blank once more. The only thing that remained was your ring that you gave me in the cab.”

His forehead furrowed. “Ring?”

“You wore it on this finger.” She tapped his left middle finger. “You gave it to me on our way to see Ian to ask him about the wormholes. Hold on one sec.”

She set down her glass, then moved around him to go into her bedroom, where she pulled the heavy, but now cool and silent ring from its slot in the bottom drawer of her jewelry box. When she returned to the kitchen, he was right where she’d left him, in his chair, still looking as if he was trying to figure out a particularly nonsensical mathematical equation.

Without preamble, she caught his left wrist and turned his hand palm up, then dropped the ring into it, where it no longer looked so comically huge. In his hand, it looked normal size, and he stared down at it. “You kept it?”

“Obviously.”

He looked up at her. “No, I mean, why?”

It was her turn to look at him as if he’d gone nuts. “Thorin, I was in love with you. And I thought I’d lost you forever. It was all I had left of you. Why wouldn’t I keep it?”

He turned his attention back to the ring, turning it over as if fascinated by the way it glinted in the low light offered up by the light above the window, which was itself above the sink. “And now?”

“What do you mean, and now?”

He looked up, his fingers closing about the ring he held. “You said you were in love with me. Meaning that you no longer are?”

She didn't answer him right away, but instead reached for her wineglass to give her something to do as she tried to make sense of her own jumbled thoughts. “Thorin, I thought you were dead. People don't come back from the dead.”

“I wasn't dead, though.”

“But I didn't know that.” She studied the pale gold Chardonnay remaining her glass as if she’d never seen it before. “I was a wreck after Ravenhill, Thorin. And I couldn’t tell anyone because I knew from when you’d left here that no one remembered you. They’d have all thought I’d gone bonkers if I started telling people I’d been at that battle, that I’d been with you in Mirkwood, at the armory. That I was close enough to actual orcs to smell them.”

At his curious stare, she sighed softly. “Crazy, Thorin. They all would have thought I was crazy.”

“So what did you do?”

“I went home.” She drained the wine, then set the glass down before coming over to sink into the empty chair. “I went home to New Jersey and told my mother about this fictional man who had sacrificed himself to save his people and that I had fallen in love with him in the process. She humored me because that’s what moms do, but I think she would’ve wanted me to see a shrink, but then I ran away.”

“A shrink?”

“A head doctor. For people who are bonkers.”

He nodded. “And did you?”

“No. I knew I wasn't nuts. I knew it had really happened, no matter how impossible it might seem.” She traced her forefinger around the wineglass’ rim. She had to tell him about Rich. “Instead, I decided to run further than Jersey, so I ran away to the UK. England, mostly. I’d planned to do Scotland and Wales, but my plans… changed.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed a change of scenery.”

“No, I mean, why did your plans change?”

And there was her cue. Her heart beat faster now, sending her pulse thundering through her temples with enough force, she had to fight back a wince. It wasn't easy, but she met his blue eyes. “I met someone on the flight out of Kennedy. He had the seat next to mine and we just started talking and—”

“You chose to stay with him instead?”

His voice held no emotion and his eyes remained tranquil, and she wasn't sure if she was relieved about that or not. “Yes and no. He’s from London, so he showed me around and since he was raised in England, he offered to show me far more than simply London. So I spent the two weeks I’d planned on using to tour the whole UK to see England alone instead.”

“And did you enjoy your time with him?”

Pressing her lips together, Noelle nodded slowly. “I did. He made me smile again and little by little, pulled me out of the darkness. He made me happy and I desperately needed to feel that again.”

Thorin bobbed his head. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to mourn me, Noelle.”

“What about you? Three years is a long time, surely you moved on as well.”

Another nod, only this one more forceful than the last. “I did.”

Although she’d expected this, and she certainly couldn’t grow angry at him for doing exactly as she’d done, hearing it still stung to a certain degree. However, she forced herself to smile. “Did you? Good. So, does that mean Erebor has a—a queen?”

He held her gaze for so long, a hint of concern fluttering through his eyes, that she braced herself to hear an affirmative answer.

However, he shook his head slowly. “No. There isn’t. I thought there might be, but then…”

His voice trailed off and he suddenly seemed very fascinated by the woodgrain pattern in the small table between them. “I began feeling as if something was wrong, as if I wasn't where I supposed to be. As if I—”

“Was with the wrong person?”

He looked up, a hint of surprise lighting in his eyes. “How did you know?”

“Because I felt it as well. And that was before the dreams.”

His brows almost met, he knit them so tightly. “You had strange dreams?”

She nodded. “I dreamed about Ravenhill, and I had your hand against my face and I felt—”

“I touched your cheek.”

Somehow, his words didn't surprise her. Instead, she smiled and nodded. “You touched my cheek. And I’d wake up and expect you to be there beside me.”

“But it was another instead.”

“It was another instead.” She drew in a deep breath, bracing herself once more as she asked, “Was there another beside you as well?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She couldn’t contain her surprise, her eyes going wide as she blurted, “Was there ever another woman beside you?”

He offered up a mild smile at her question. “Do you not recall what I told you about dwarves and intimacy?”

“That once you find your One, you remain faithful to them even in death.”

“Exactly. And I think that is partly why I’ve not yet taken a wife.”

“But you knew I wasn't coming back and as far as your world was concerned, I never existed. You could have slept with another woman.”

“I could have, I suppose. But I loved you.”

She didn't miss his use of the past tense either, and sighed softly. “So what do we do now? Am I supposed to help you get back home again? What?”

“I don't know.” He sat back in his chair, setting the silver ring on the table before him. “Tell me, are you still with the man you met on the plane?”

“Not anymore, no. We broke up a few weeks ago. And you?”

He hesitated and she knew what that meant. “Her name is Thalia. She’s—”

“You don’t have to explain, Thorin. It’s okay. I get the picture.”

“The picture?” His forehead furrowed.

“I understand.”

“Ah. I see.”

“And you’re still with her.” It wasn't a question. She knew the answer before the words even left her mouth.

“I am.”

“Good. I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy. And it’s good if she’s really your One. It probably should be a girl dwarf, you know, especially with you being a dwarf yourself and all.” She pushed the chair away from the table and stood. “So, I guess then we see how we get you home, which probably isn’t going to be quite so easy this time around, since we both know how you got sent home the first time.”

A low chuckle bubbled to his lips and to her surprise, his eyes darkened slightly. “I do indeed remember.”

Heat shot through her as their eyes met and she slowly shook her head. “No, not this time, Thorin. I’m not a home wrecker.”

“A—”

“You’ve got a girlfriend, Thorin. I’m not sleeping with a guy who’s in a relationship. And since you’re with her, that means I wasn’t your One to begin with, no matter what you tried to tell yourself.”

“I’m not entirely sure of that, you know.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure of it. So, we should get some sleep—me in my bed and you on the sofa—and come tomorrow we can figure out just how else we might get you back to your girlfriend, who’s probably wondering where you’ve vanished to anyway.”

“Noelle, wait.”

He reached for her as he rose from his chair, but she shifted to move beyond his reach, almost darting out into the living room. She couldn't help it. She knew it was stupid and hypocritical and that she had no grounds whatsoever to be troubled by his confession. After all, she’d also been in a relationship since returning from Middle Earth. But the difference was, he was still with this faceless woman named Thalia. As far as she was concerned, that was a huge difference.

Not only that, but it was a huge difference that hurt almost as much as losing him at Ravenhill had hurt. So no matter how she tried to tell herself she had no right to feel the way she did, it was pointless. She didn't listen to herself.

Thorin came into the living room as she was making up the sofa for him. “Noelle, I—”

“You don't have to explain anything,” she told him, shaking her head as she set a folded quilt on the sofa arm. “Really. Life goes on, right? Mine did, too. So I really can’t be mad at you for realizing that I wasn't your One and I’m not mad at you for it. Promise.”

“You seem angry.”

“Nope.” She shook her head again. “I’m fine. And I’ll help you get home again. I just don't really know how. But, I’ll figure it out and I’ll send you home to your beautiful dwarf girl and you can live happily ever after. So, I should get some sleep, because I don't even know where to begin to figure this out, and honestly? I’m beat. It’s been a long day.”

Thorin reached for her hand, catching it before she could step away from him, and the moment they made contact, her heart leapt and heat swept through her. He linked his fingers with hers. “I don't know that I’m meant to go back.”

“Either way, we know that this can’t go any further than this.” She squeezed his hand for emphasis. “Because we know what happens if it does go further. So, either way, I lose and I’m really not strong enough to do that again.”

He slipped his hand from hers, his expression going serious. “I suppose you’ve got a point. Perhaps Science Man might help us?”

“I highly doubt it. But I can always ask him again.” She moved to the doorway between the living room and the short hallway leading to her bedroom. “Anyway, good night, Thorin. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night,” he replied softly as she padded toward her bedroom, adding an even softer, “amrâlimê.”

She froze. My love.

Damn it. In all the times she wished he’d return, or wished that she would wake up and find herself on the golden floor in Erebor’s Hall of Kings, lying in Thorin’s arms again, she never thought it would happen. And now that it had happened, there could be nothing between them on a physical level because she just wasn't strong enough to lose him again.

The trouble was, she wasn't strong enough to resist him, either.

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#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #The Hobbit AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Modern Woman #Romance #Richard Armitage

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ikeromantic · 6 days ago

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Candles

Ikemen Advent prompt featuring Kyubei! approx. 1600 words.

Kyubei stifled a sigh. Today’s lesson was not going well. Mai was staring out the window again, oblivious to the documents on the table. “Hey. Let’s take a break. Get something to drink.”

“What?” She turned her head toward him and then shook it. “No. I don’t need anything. We can keep going.” Her hand settled on the top page. “What was this again? The um, shipment records for, for . . .”

“No. We talked about that yesterday. Today we were looking at regional treaties.” Kyubei smiled. “It’s ok to take a break. We have time to get back to this.”

Mai looked like she might argue but then her shoulders sagged. “Alright. Yeah. I guess I need a minute.”

Kyubei stood. “I’ll bring some tea.” He left her there to gather her thoughts. She was so unfocused to day that even he could tell something was bothering her. Lord Akechi, would have known right away, and probably even figured out what it was. Kyubei had no idea. He searched his mind for some clue, but came up empty.

When he returned with the tea, she was wiping furiously at her cheeks, eyes red rimmed and damp. He set down the tea and then sat beside her. “Mai.”

Just her name was enough to set off a new round of tears. She turned her head away from him, trying to hide them. “S-sorry. Just. I can’t seem to - to -”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Kyubei felt as if he might start crying too. He couldn’t stand to see Mai sad. If someone upset her, he thought grimly, he’d teach them how to properly treat an Oda princess.

Mai shook her head, sniffling. “No. Nothing happened. It’s this time of year. Christmas. I - I miss my family.” Her breath caught on the words and she stifled a sound of distress.

Kyubei carefully slipped an arm over her shoulder. After a moment, she leaned into him and buried her face against his shoulder. He went very still, unsure what to do now that he held her. It wasn’t the first time they’d been so close, but perhaps the first time she’d felt so vulnerable, so fragile. “Tell me about it.”

She was quiet for a long moment, just breathing, getting ahold of her tears. When she spoke, her voice was near a whisper and thick with emotion. “Me and dad would put up the tree. And m-mom would make hot cocoa.”

He wasn’t sure what she was talking about. Getting a tree. Cocoa. But these things were meaningful to her, and so he wanted to understand. “It sounds like you were very close with your family.”

“Yeah.” She gave a choked laugh. “We made a special holiday shrine for my grandma. She loved Christmas. Especially the food.” He could feel Mai smile against his shoulder. “My obaasan had a sweet tooth. So every year we’d get a candle that smelled like gingerbread or sugar cookie or apple pie. And we’d light it for her. And put ornaments around it.”

Kyubei smiled, his fingers lightly stroking her arm in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He wanted to ease her heart, but wasn’t sure how. There was no way to give her back the things she’d lost coming to the Sengoku.

Mai took a shaky breath. “I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much today. I guess because this would be when we celebrate. And here it’s just . . .”

“Another day.”

“Yeah.” She wasn’t crying now, but still rested against him. “I guess I just miss those special moments. Celebrating. Remembering. Not that I don’t love the celebrations we have here. I do. But I miss my old life too. Homesick, I suppose.” She sniffed. “Sorry to be such a bummer. You aren’t my therapist. Probably just want to get back to the lesson, huh?”

Kyubei shook his head, something in his chest clenching. Did she really think he was just here as a tutor? “No. I - I -” The confession caught in his throat and for a moment, he was paralyzed. Then, “You won’t be able to focus on anything if you can’t share what you feel with me.”

Mai gave another soft, breathy laugh. Her face was turned up toward him and the feel of her warm breath against his neck sent a shiver through him. “True. Well, thank you for listening anyway.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

She sat up and rubbed her face. “Is it ok if we’re done for today?”

Kyubei forced a smile. “Sure. I won’t tell Lord Akechi if you don’t.”

“Thanks. I think I’m going to take a walk. Just get some air. I’ll be back in a few, ok?” Mai stood and smoothed out her clothes.

“Sure. Take your time.” He watched her leave, his thoughts snared in a tangle of conflicted emotions. A vassal had no business feeling this way about a princess, but he could no more force his heart to be still than he could stop the sun from rising. And appropriate or not, he couldn’t simply return to his duties without at least trying to cheer her up.

It took some time to put together, especially with the little Kyubei had to go on, but he was a resourceful man. Everything was ready before she got back from her walk.

Mai stepped into her room and gasped. She nearly fell to her knees, but he was standing by the door and caught her arm. “What . . . Kyubei?”

A small bonsai tree sat on her table, draped with some ribbons and beads. Three candles sat beside it, along with some sweets from the kitchen. He didn’t know what apple pie or sugar cookies were, but he’d rounded up some wagashi shaped like camellias, and manju stuffed with fruit jelly.

“I thought it might cheer you up.” Kyubei felt a nervous tension in his gut as she turned her wide eyed gaze on him. “If - if not, I can clean it up. Or . . . is it . . . are you -” He was going to say ok, but his breath escaped in one wordless exhalation as she threw her arms around him in a ferocious hug.

Her arms tightened on him, her face tilted up toward his. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has done for me.”

Kyubei felt his face go hot at the unexpected display of affection. “G-good? I’m glad.” He awkwardly patted her back, unsure how far he could or should reciprocate. For a moment, he struggled to navigate his emotions, then his arms closed around her and he hugged her tightly. “I’m really glad,” he said again before letting her go.

It took Mai a little longer to let go of him. Her hand lingered on his shoulder as she looked up at him, an unreadable expression crossing her features before she tucked it away behind a smile. “This really is so nice of you. Giving me a little celebration. Would you . . . would you share it with me?”

He blinked, the request catching him by surprise. Somehow, in all the effort to put it together, he hadn’t considered that she would want him to be part of her little celebration. “Of course.”

The two of them sat at the table. Mai picked up one of the camellias. “These are almost too pretty to eat. Where did you get them?”

“I made them.” At her look of surprise he added, “I worked making wagashi for a few months, infiltrating a smuggling organization for Lord Akechi. They were using the shop as a front.”

Mai laughed. “You are a man of many surprises, Kyubei. I wonder what else your hiding behind that cute face of yours.”

“C-cute?” His heart stuttered in his chest and heat suffused him. Not just his face but his entire head, neck, and shoulders.

She looked away from him and back at the table. “Shall we light the candles?”

He cleared his throat, trying to calm the sudden pounding pulse in his ears. “Y-yeah. I thought it could be a way for you to remember the family you’re missing here. So you don’t feel alone.”

Mai reached over and squeezed his hand. Then she reached for the thin, wood taper Kyubei had set out, and caught it on fire in the lamp’s flame. She lit the first candle, and then the second. “For mom and dad. I hope they have a merry Christmas.”

“I hope so too.” Kyubei gazed at the small, flickering flames, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. He didn’t know what a Christmas was, still didn’t really understand what Mai was missing. But he hoped more than anything that she could find joy here, and that those she loved were happy as well.

She blew out the candle, and then leaned close to him and with unexpected quickness, pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Kyubei.”

He froze, holding his breath, body rigid. The spot on his cheeks her lips touched felt like a flame, pleasant heat that sent waves of warmth across his skin. He was caught between disbelief and shock, his heart galloping in his chest.

Mai leaned into his side. “I don’t feel alone when you’re with me. I hope that’s ok.” Her fingertips traced the edge of his jaw. “I know you’re just my tutor but . . . I think of you as my - my friend.”

Kyubei mustered the breath to rasp a reply. “It’s more than ok. Much more.”

“Good.” She smiled. “That means a lot to me.” Her thumb brushed his chin just under his lips, and then dropped away. “Let’s share some sweets then. Our own little secret celebration. Just me and you.”

He smiled back at her, feeling overwhelmed with emotions he couldn’t express. Mai would never know, he thought, that she’d already given him something far sweeter than anything he’d brought to eat. “Me and you,” he echoed.

@candied-boys @queengiuliettafirstlady

#ikemen advent #ikemen sengoku #ikesen kyubei #kyubei #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff

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sorinethemastermind · 5 days ago

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Fluffcember 2024: The Perfect Gift | Rayllum & Sorvus & Clauderry Callum is determined to ask Rayla to be his girlfriend this Winter Break. But if he can't even start a fire, how is he supposed to create the perfect moment? Soren has decided to stay on campus this Christmas, but with Rayla and Callum as his only company, he's starting to feel like a third wheel. Except maybe it's not just the three of them left on campus after all. Meanwhile Claudia is trying to have a nice Christmas with her family, but maybe her family isn't at home...

Claudia watched everyone. But not in a creepy way!

She watched them because it was nice to be home, even if this home smelled sort of like her brother’s gym socks, and had dirty laundry lying on the floor, and the pipes creaked all eerily whenever the heat turned on. It had Soren and Callum and Terry. And it had Rayla and Corvus, who might be new, but were quickly becoming a part of their little family.

Claudia watched as Soren plopped down onto the beanbag with Corvus, her brother throwing the other guy one of those goofy too wide grins of his. It was nice to see him, but it was especially nice to see him like this. And on Christmas, too.

Christmas.

It was Christmas.

“Crap!” Claudia exclaimed, shooting upright and nearly knocking Terry off the couch. She turned to him. “Crap with a cherry on top! Terbear, I totally forgot your present at the cabin!”

Her boyfriend righted himself, straightening his glasses. “It’s okay! I really don’t mind. I, uh, sort of left yours there, too.”

“But Terry-” she groaned “-it’s Christmas. How is it supposed to feel like Christmas without presents?”

“Christmas isn’t about presents.” Soren said, holding up a hand. He was doing that stupid ‘I’m so smart right now’ voice he did. “It’s about the people you spend it with.”

“Bullshit.” Rayla said from her place perched on the arm of the couch. She slapped another bandaid on Callum’s arm, not looking up. “It’s definitely about the presents.”

“Ow.” her boyfriend groaned as she poured antiseptic on one of his many scrapes. “That stings.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have fallen out of the tree, then.” Rayla said. But she placed a gentle kiss on the scrape before covering it with another bandaid.

He smiled at her. The goofiest, cheesiest, stupidest smile Claudia thought she had ever seen. As though he was expecting stars and rainbows to shoot from her eyes and a choir of unicorns to appear and start singing. He was soooo dorky.

Then Callum’s dork smile changed to a slightly sheepish one. “But, uh, Rayla, don’t you think Soren’s right? That Christmas is about who you spend it with, not what you get?”

“Since when have you agreed with Soren on anything?” his girlfriend asked, raising an eyebrow. Claudia laughed at her brother’s wounded expression.

“I… I may not have gotten you a present.” Callum said with a wince. When Rayla didn’t say anything immediately, he hurried into an explanation; “I just wanted it to be perfect and nothing was so I kept trying to find something and then not. I went to like… ten different shops, Soren can confirm that, but nothing was good enough because Rayla you’re like… you’re the greatest and I couldn’t find as good as you or good enough for you.”

They all watched Rayla. Well, no. They all watched Callum because he was looking so silly and anxious and he was watching Rayla. So they all watched Callum watching Rayla.

She laughed. “Callum, you’re such a dummy. Whatever it was would’ve been fine. But I don’t care that you didn’t get me anything.”

Callum gave a relieved sigh. “Oh thank god.”

“You know what would be the best Christmas present.” Soren said, suddenly. They all turned to look at him. He was drumming his fingers against Corvus’ thigh, lips pursed and eyes distant, like he was lost in thought.

“What?” Claudia prompted, knowing sometimes he needed a little push.

“Going home for the holidays.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t that exactly what you didn’t want to do?”

“Not us.” he said, like that should've been obvious. He turned to Callum. “Isn’t Ez all alone?”

“He’s… yeah. A little.” Callum looked vaguely guilty. Alright, more than vaguely. “But we don’t have any way to-”

“Claudia brough my car back.” Soren interjected.

Callum’s eyes lit up. “She did!” he jumped to his feet. “She did! We could drive down there!” he turned to Rayla, grabbing her hands. “Would you care if we-”

“Let’s go see your brother.” she smiled at him.

They barely all fit in the car. Alright, they definitely didn’t all fit in the car. It was five hours - five long hours - to Harrow’s. But they all piled in and drove through the snow and the ice and the holiday traffic. Claudia was crammed in next to Terry, who was smushed into the same seat as Callum, who was practically stuck on top of Rayla. Somehow Soren and Corvus had gotten the front seats to themselves. Claudia noted how Soren kept taking his hand at every red light, Corvus thumb tracing absently over the back of his hand. They were so cute.

It was nearly night when they pulled up outside Harrow’s house, the outside all decked out with lights the way it had been since they were kids. Claudia remembered how he and her Dad used to compete to see who could have the most festive house. Now hers stood empty and dark beside it. She tried not to look at it.

But that wasn’t hard when they all piled out of the car - thankful for a chance to stretch their legs and walk about - and all the lights were twinkling down at them from the roof. Callum led the way up the walk, all paved with little blinking lights in red and green and white, and knocked on the door.

Silence, and then there was a faint pattering of feet. Callum held up a hand, telling them all to be quiet.

“All at once, when he opens it.” he whispered.

Claudia took a deep breath, waiting. The door creaked open.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” they all chorused.

Bait started barking immediately, squeezing out the door with his curly little tail wagging to run circles around their feet, leaving little pawprints in the snow. Ezran stared up at them, face splitting into a smile.

“Callum! Everybody!” he turned back into the house to call Harrow. “Dad! Dad, Callum is here! Everybody came!”

He turned back to them, beaming, then ran out into the snow and threw his arms around his brother. “I can’t believe you came.”

“Of course I did.” Callum hugged him back, squeezing him tight and picking him up to spin him around (or trying to, all he really did was drag Ez through the snow). “Wouldn’t be a Merry Christmas without my brother.”

“Come on, we were just about to eat.” Ezran grabbed his brother by the hand and started dragging him inside. “Dad isn’t going to believe it.” he glanced back at all of them, then, waving them all inside with his other hand. “Come on! We made jelly tarts.”

Claudia caught Soren staring at their house out of the corner of her eye and lingered behind the others as they all filed inside. Once it was just the two of them she walked over, bumping his shoulder with her own.

“What’s up, Sorbear?”

He startled, glancing down at her. “What? Uh, nothing. Just… the snow sure is pretty, isn’t it?”

“Mhm. Sure it is. What did Juliette say?” she raised an eyebrow and he sighed.

Soren sighed. “I need to be honest about my emotions and open with the people who care about them. Because when a jar gets full, it breaks. And then everybody has to clean it up-”

“-but if you just release the pressure inside the jar, then it won’t break, and there will be nothing to clean up.” Claudia finished. “Why are you paying her if you’re not going to listen to what she says?”

He blew out a breath. “Do you think he’s… all alone? Nobody deserves that. It’s Christmas.”

“He’s got Mom.”

Soren laughed. “That’s probably worse.”

“Yeah.” Claudia leaned her head against his shoulder. “But if you’re hurting, then how are you supposed to heal someone else’s hurt? The only way you can really put all your strength into helping someone else is if you’re at full strength yourself.” Claudia blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. “That’s what my therapist said, anyway.”

“You have a therapist?” Soren asked, glancing down at her in surprise.

“Everybody needs someone to talk to.” she said, tugging him towards the door and the sounds of chatter and Christmas music. “Now come on, our family is waiting.”

Soren smiled at her, letting her lead him inside.

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thiswasinevitableid · 11 days ago

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Together (Sternclay)

Another whumpcember prompt winner was Panic Attack. This is a continuation of this 1950s fill, but can be read as a stand alone

Authors note: This fill was supposed to be NSFW but took a very different turn than planned and it didn't fit with the tone. So, if you'd like to see part three with some fluff and smut, let me know.

The morning after the best night of his life, Joseph wakes up on the floor.

That hasn’t happened to him since he bought the new bed, big enough so that he has to thrash a lot before he hits the floor. Lord only knows what buried memory sent him tumbling this time. He always wakes in too much of a panic to remember his dreams.

“Joseph?”

He closes his eyes, breathes in steadily and slowly. It’s Barclay. Just Barclay. He came home with him last night after a Christmas party, he’s the first man Joseph’s ever slept with, he’s handsome and gentle and he cannot see Joseph on the hardwood, the ghosts of a nightmare making him kick and shout like a kidnapped child.

“I’m okay, big guy” he stands, reaching for his robe, “I just caught my foot in the sheet and lost my balance.”

Soft footfalls, then Barclay is in the doorway, mug of coffee in either hand, “Here I thought you remembered last night and got all jelly-kneed. Know I did when I woke up.”

Joseph takes the offered mug, “I don’t come out of my dreams that easily. But now that you mention it…” he leans in and kisses Barclay once, sweetly, on the lips. The taller man sighs happily, gaze languid as he watches Joseph sip his coffee.

“Would this be why you asked me last night how I take my coffee?”

“You caught me.” Barclay loops an arm around his waist, and Joseph is suddenly glad the curtains to the front are closed, “usually use that line before getting someone into the sack. But I do always wanna know. I…it’s important to me. To make it good for the other person. Makes them less likely to toss me out.”

He doesn’t bother to hide his distaste, “Some people don’t have the manners god gave a rock.”

“I mean I get it. Lots of guys aren’t on the level and need me to go before their wife gets home, and a lot of the ones who are lose interest as soon as they find out I did time.”

Joseph wants to turn and cup his face, promise him that he won’t lose interest, that the fruit trees in the yard will up and walk to Fresno before he sends Barclay away. Wants to pretend that there’s a world where it won’t be his own fault that his beautiful, fiery feeling between them fizzles out.

“Well” he sets his mug on the dresser, “you know I’m not married. And you’re the most fascinating man I’ve met in a long time. So, Mr. Cobb, unless you have somewhere urgent to be, I think you should come back to bed.”

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

Joseph may want Barclay for a roommate, but Barclay is still in the “rehabilitation” program. That comes with a lot of rules and a tight leash.

God, would he like Barclay on a leash? He thinks he would.

Focus, Stern. There’s a job to do.

He trusts his teaching assistant to guide the Intermediate Japanese class through their review session while he makes the drive from campus down into east Oakland. The administrative offices are next to the jail, and he’s mistaken twice for someone’s lawyer before Owens is able to see him.

“Stern!” Owens shakes his hand, “Finally taking me up on the offer of joining the force?”

Not even if hell froze over.

“Not quite. I have a question about the Re-Entry Program; are members ever allowed to live outside of the halfway house?”

“In rare circumstances, like if they have family in the area who won’t lead them right back into crime. You asking because of Cobb? The missus said you two got on like a house on fire last weekend.”

“We did. Between you and me, I’ve been thinking about getting a housemate; the place is too big for me, and my job keeps me busy enough that meeting a nice girl to share it with won’t happen any time soon. The problem is, it’s in such a good location I don’t want to lose it by moving.” He lets his smile brighten, “Barclay and I get along, and it’s the same distance from the cafe you have him working at as the halfway house. You know I can handle myself, and I trust you to vet the program members to not be dangerous.”

Owens fiddles with his pencil, “How about this: I’m trying to convince the county to let us use a sponsor system for the program. You and Cobb could be a test case; he’s a nice guy, and between you and me I thought it was good he got a soft judge. All you’d have to do is give reports once and awhile, help become a productive part of society, all that.”

“I think we can manage.” He sits down so Owens can show him some paperwork, makes a note in his pocket calendar to swing by the cafe and talk to Barclay about it. Tries not to think about how Barclay has less to atone for than he does.

He gets to Bettys right before closing, nurses a paper cup of coffee outside while he waits for Barclay to finish up.

As he goes to throw his cup away, he hears someone urgently call a name, and then something heavy hits him in the side. A narrow muzzle pushes into his face, covered in brown and black fur.

His limbs are going numb, he needs to run, he can’t, he’s not there, he’s in Oakland, he’s safe.

“Joey! Joey get down!” A harried young woman hauls the German shepherd off him, “Sit. Oh thank goodness you remember that one. I am so, so sorry sir. She used to belong to my brother who she adored and when she saw you she just snapped the leash and ran.”

“It’s okay, just a scuff on my coat.” He looks down at the dog, fights a flinch as it barks once, happily, and wags its tail at his attention, “I’m sorry I’m not who you’re looking for.”

“If you ever figure out how to explain that to her, let me know.”

Joseph notices the ribbon pinned to her jacket. Someone she loved is M.I.A.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs.

She gives him a sad smile, “I envy her optimism.” Another final apology, then she wishes him Merry Christmas and leaves with Joey in tow.

Joseph brushes the dirt from his coat, so used to burying his fear he barely feels it. She’s heavier than the last one that hit him, his face slamming the mud, the shouts behind him, knowing that if they get their hands on him he’s done for, no one will come for him, and lord help him he knows what they do to spies, he’s seen it-

“Joseph?” Barclay is behind him, angelic under the street lights, “you okay?

“Just a little lost in thought.” He remembers why he’s here, pushes the past away, and steps as close to Barclay he can without drawing attention, “let me take you to dinner? I have some amazing news.”

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

Maybe it’s a good thing two men can’t tie the knot. Right now that’s the only reason Barclay hasn’t gotten down on one knee only three weeks after meeting Joseph.

It’s not the house, mercifully quiet and tidy due to their joint cleaning, or Joseph making sure they split dinner duty. It’s not the new room that’s technically his own even though he spends every night under soft sheets with Joseph.

It’s that when they talked about the “sponsorship,” Joseph offered a bulleted list of how they could phrase the agreement so that Barclay could leave if he needed to, could not be just tossed out on his ass if things went south between them. That the night before he moved in, Joseph sat down with him to make a grocery list to cover them both. That when Barclay holds him, he feels safer and more at home than he thought he ever could, and can feel Joseph’s shoulders shaking with some nightmare, and hopes with everything in him that this relationship simmering between them will soothe whatever part of his past keeps chasing him.

Life isn’t a fairytale. God knows they both understand that. But doesn’t it deserve a chance to be?

In place of a proposal, he’s keeping Joseph company on the drive down to Salinas to see his family. Christmas is a relatively new practice in the family; it overlaps with Hanukkah this year, but according to Joseph, there’s been pressure to make at least a passing effort at Christmas.

“A neighbor told my mother it seemed un-American to not observe such an important day.”

“What the fuck?”

Joseph jabs his baked potato, “It’s the same one who couldn’t understand why my family wasn’t carted off to internment because they don’t understand Korea isn’t Japan.”

Barclay suspects that if Mrs. Stern is anything like her son, the neighbor was instantly withered by disapproval. The last time he visited him on campus he saw him turn that stare on some older students harassing the janitor and felt vicarious shame the rest of the night.

They turn from the highway, away from the coast and into the farmland. Fields whiz by, brown without the strawberries, spinach, and artichokes that will cover them in the spring and summer. The radio has been playing the same ten Christmas songs, and so Joseph lowers the volume and asks about the Christmas party that Barclay attended at the halfway house.

He sighs, “It was okay. Hank liked the records I got him.”

(They’d gone to the store on Shattuck to find them, pressed up against each other in the small space as they looked through the shelves and crates, and Joseph had walked out with five for the house, half his picks and half Barclays, plus one they’d grabbed for at the same time).

Joseph casts a glance his way, “What happened?”

“A bunch of the guys got me a ‘special gift.’ Said it’d make me into a real housewife. Relatedly, if you know any women who need stockings, point them my way.”

Two fingers raise off the wheel, “First of all, the joke is on them for wasting money on something that isn’t funny. Second of all, if they think taking care of a home is embarrassing, I have three generations of women who will happily threaten them in no fewer than three languages for you.”

“Keep that in mind, babe.” He leans over, kissing Joseph on the cheek.

The conversation turns to the movies, and by the time they turn onto the main drag they’re deep in debate about what to see the next time they catch a matinee.

A plane buzzes overhead. Barclay wonders who the fuck is flying right now; maybe a celebrity zipping up for a Christmas on the coast, or an overworked mailcarrier.

Joseph tenses in the driver's seat as he pulls toward the parking spaces in front of the darkened Parks Grocery.

“Joseph? Baby, what’sAH!” He yelps as the bumper bangs into the sidewalk.

“Shit.” Joseph hisses, then his voice flattens, “I’m sorry, it’s nothing, I just had trouble seeing the curb. Is the car alright?”

Barclay pokes his head out, peering between the headlights, “Might be a little dent, but that’s it.”

When he looks back, Joseph's face is the same as it was a few minutes ago, friendly and collected, “That’s a relief. Okay, I can take the presents if you take the food; they’ll hold up better to the onslaught.”

Joseph’s right; the instant the door opens, he’s being hugged by a woman with brown hair piled on top of her head, an older man slapping him on the back, and a girl who looks like she could be his daughter clinging to his legs. He hears something ripping and hopes it’s wrapping paper and not Joseph’s shirt.

The memory of coming back to the Lodge after being gone, of arms around him welcoming him home, sticks under his ribs like a knife.

“Alright, alright, let the poor man in.” A figure that can only be Mr. Stern appears, looking up at his son before hugging him, “what, you thought I wasn’t going to get in on the action?”

“Good to see you too, Dad.” He passes off the presents to a tall, blonde man, “Dad, everyone, this is my friend Barclay.”

He waves, pie tray in his free hand, “Thank you for letting me come on such short notice.”

The older man in the glasses waves his hand, “Eh, what’s one more, she’s cooking like the entire Giants are coming for dinner.”

“And who is that because, huh?” The woman who must be Mrs.Stern jabs a wooden spoon his way, “you ate half the table at the Seder last year.”

“Doctor says I gotta keep my strength up. That makes sense, right Joseph?”

“He’s a nice boy, he’s not gonna argue with his mother.” The grey haired woman says dryly from her spot beside him.

“Bubbe is right on the money.” Joseph takes the pie and carries it to the counter.

“I can help out if you need.” Barclay offers, but Mrs. Stern waves for him to sit down.

Joseph introduces him to everyone, and Barclay begins to understand why both floors above the grocery are occupied. Of the two sets of grandparents, his great aunt and uncle, parents, and older sister Lily, only Lily lives elsewhere. She and her husband, Craig, brought themselves and his niece Sophie down from San Francisco for the day.

At one point he looks around, unable to find Joseph, and sees him speaking quietly to his parents in Korean. His stomach twists, wondering if it’s about him, if Joseph feels forced to justify while a man with a rap sheet is sitting in their living room.

Then Sophie is nearly in his lap, demanding to know what kind of pie he made, and he lets himself be drawn back into the conversation.

A tap on his shoulder, and he looks up to find Mrs. Stern.

“Barclay, can you help me bring some things up from the store? I forgot to cart them up earlier and a few of the boxes are a little heavy for me on those stairs.”

“Sure thing.” He follows her out the door and down the side stairwell, the grocers cool and dark when they get inside. She shifts boxes around in one of the storage closets while Barclay scans the newspapers on the wall.

(Joseph’s whole family took her name, he realizes. “Park” belonged to his father, hence the name in friendly red letters out front).

“Joseph said you two are moving in together?”

“Yeah. I’m really excited.”

“You mentioned you were up on the coast for a while. Is your family up there?”

He nods and she continues, “well, I’m flattered you chose our ‘christmas’ dinner to come to instead.”

“It’s, it’s not like that, my, I-” He looks over at her leaning on the counter and realizes he’s stepped right where she wanted him to.

“I…I got into some trouble. And when I got out, they only let me up to see my family and friends once. They told me they were afraid that if I was paroled there, I’d just take up old habits.”

“And would you?”

He thinks about the names on immigration documents, the pleas for safety, Indrid forging signatures perfectly while Barclay and Dani worked out which routes were the safest to send them.

“In a heartbeat.”

The steel in her posture softens, “You’re honest. That’s a good thing in a man.” She places a box onto the counter, “Joseph told Lawrence and I the truth. Don’t be angry with him for that, he comes by his inquisitive streak honestly from both of us and knew to head off our questions so we wouldn’t embarrass you by mistake asking them at the table.”

“I kinda had a hunch he had.”

She steps closer, “Can you promise me something? Keep an eye on him these next few weeks. This time of year is hard for him. He’s never said why, I assume it has to do with what happened over there. He hides it well, I’m not sure even Lawrence notices. But a mother always knows.”

Barclay feels strange relief, knowing someone else has spotted the brittle edge to Joseph's smile that's been worrying him the last few days,

“I’ll do my best.”

She reaches up and pats his cheek, “Thank you. Now, let's get these boxes upstairs. Careful not to drop that one, it’s mostly applesauce.”

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

He’d been doing so well. He made it through the drive down when the plane buzzed overhead and he was back in Dresden. Through the moment at the table when Sophie had if Barclay had been in the war and his mother simply said, “he was a hero, like your uncle.” Joseph had wanted to shout that unlike him, Barclay really was one.

Then someone had to go and set off a firework right after they got home.

Now he’s standing in the bedroom, fighting himself with rapidly dwindling success. He held it together then, why can’t he hold it together now? What if these attacks never stop, what if they get worse. If they get worse, someone will notice, oh god help him what if they happen in class, he’ll be fired for sure, what good is a professor who can’t do anything but shake? And if Barclay finds out, he’ll be gone in an instant, because Joseph will confess on top of everything else and then Barclay will know him not only as a coward who can’t keep the past at bay but as a failure. The one person he wants more than anything in the world will leave him and there will be no one to find him when one of these episodes finally stops his heart-

Warm, large hands cup his face, “Joseph, hey, stay with me.”

“I’m here.”

Barclay shakes his head, brown eyes overflowing with tender concern, “No, you’re not. You’re somewhere else. Come back to me. Please?”

“I don’t know how, I’ve tried and tried and I can never make it stop, I just have to ride it out, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“What are you apologizing for?” Barclay, voice genuinely confused, is trying to guide him to sit on the bed, but his limbs are lead even as his heart tries to break his bones from the inside out, “you aren’t hurting me, things went well with your family, I thought everything was okay…”

Oh god that’s what the tone he couldn’t place at first is; Barclay is scared. He thinks he’s done something wrong.

He’s already failing him.

He has to push through, he can salvage this.

“Can you please close the curtain. And maybe roll up a towel at the bottom of the window? It’s those fucking fireworks, the noise and the light is getting to me.”

Barclay nods, squeezes his hand, and stands. Joseph inhales as deeply as he dares.

It gets stuck, turning to a sob halfway through.

“Woah, woah baby hey” Barclay drops to his knees, “whatever you’re thinking of is in the past, it can’t get you here, you’re safe-”

He shakes his head without meaning to, “I don’t deserve to be. Someone else should have come back in my place.”

“Bullshit.” The murmur is surprisingly forceful.

“No” he snaps, “it’s not. I was a spy, Barclay, and that means doing terrible things for the sake of keeping your cover. It means turning a blind eye to some of what you’re seeing because if you look too long you’ll decide to hell with the mission and try to stop it.”

Barclay stays quiet, keeps hold of his hands. There’s a burn scar on his wrist from an oven and Joseph raises it to his face, keeps it against his cheek. It’s easier to talk with it there, like whatever he says is a secret Barclay will hold in his palm for safekeeping.

“I had a few near-misses but the worst one is the one I can’t shake. It was understood that if another agent was caught, unless we could be certain we could escape with them without blowing cover, we were not to intervene, even if it meant their death. I was in Dresden, technically as an axis member, but really on a mission where if I failed, there’d be more men dead than just me. It was already stressful because I knew there could be a bombing any moment.”

He presses a kiss to Barclays skin to steady himself, “the other agent on the mission was found out. He ran, but where we were….there was no chance of escape, there were too many of them. I heard the shouts, knew what was happening, then he rounded the corner and I realized he was about to call out for me to help him. So I” he closes his eyes, lets him see it again as penance, “I shot him. Before he could reveal me, too.”

He’s still crying, but the sobs have stopped, and his heart is no longer ten seconds away from an attack. Now if only he could bring himself to look Barclay in the eye.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. If, I understand if this changes things-”

“No! I mean yeah, it does, but not how you’re thinking.” Barclay takes Joseph’s chin and gently guides his head up, “I literally don’t know what to say. Because what I want more than anything in the fucking world is to know the magic words that would make it better. But I don’t, and I’m not sure there are any, but I’ll be absolutely fucking damned if I make you feel worse. Yeah, I could sit here and judge, but I wasn’t fucking there, and what matters to me, in this moment, is that you’re still stuck.” He rests their foreheads together, “I know you’re trying to reconcile every awful thing you went through with the story everyone wants to tell about you. But I’m not someone you have to impress, or someone you have to confess to. I’m just the nobody cook who lucked out enough for you to like him.”

Joseph doesn’t throw himself into Barclay’s arms; that implies an energy he does not have. Instead he sinks into them, only for the cook to maneuver them both onto the bed and cradle him close.

“How many times do I have to tell you you’re not a nobody, big guy?” The teasing comes out in a shaky whisper.

“Dunno, it might not ever stick and you’ll just have to remind me every day how great I am.”

He snickers, “I already plan on that.” A yawn overtakes him, “christ, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just drop this into a nice evening. I’m so fucking tired.”

“Then we should get some shut eye.” Barclay carefully undoes the buttons of Joseph’s dress shirt.

“But-”

Barclay looks at him, eyes hopeful and serious, “You want this thing between us to go on for a while, right?”

“More than anything.”

“Then we don’t have to talk through every tough thing in one night. We’ve got time. We can make a life that’s worth all the pain it took to get here. Together.”

Joseph nods, presses a kiss to those full lips as a thumb brushes the last of the tears from his cheek, “together.”

#taz amnesty #sternclay #agent stern/barclay #1950s au #hurt/comfort

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