#I hope St. Peter told him 'you had your chance and you blew it'

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Best Christmas of all; Tom Holland x child reader

*Author’s note*

Okay WOW! I am a TERRIBLE Person BUT I GOT IT DONE. To the Watson anon from long ago as well as @artistintraining239​ I FINALLY GOT THE TOM HOLLAND REQUEST DONE!!!!!! Now @artistintraining239​ I made a SLIGHT change in the adoption part of the story so I hope you’ll accept what I ended up doing for that part, and to the Watson anon whomever you maybe, you are LITERALLY THE MOST PATIENT PERSON EVER!! You requested something from me like 2 years ago around Christmas time and I couldn’t do it cause it ended up as shit, so you gave me a second chance and I PROMISED I DELIVER AND SO I DID!!! It took awhile for me to try and add the ideas you had mixed with this other requester listed above but I F***IN DID IT!!! 

Not really any warnings just PURE, TOM HOLLAND FLUFF, foster care (just for characterization), Tessa makes an appearance, and having no knowledge of Tom’s family. I’m just using them here for the story, RESPECT THEIR PRIVACY'S. 

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural​

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@ixchel-9275​

@platawnic​

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It’s a miracle when a person can go up on the big screen and become someone famous, it’s another miracle when you get adopted after losing your family in a housefire before you reach your teenage years.  I gained both miracles.  The best place to start is probably from the beginning when I was chosen to costar in the upcoming Marvel movie Spiderman: Homecoming.

I was chosen out of hundreds if not thousands of little girls to play the cousin of Peter Parker aka Spiderman, Jenna Hawkins (Brown spider).  Jenna’s character was that while she was Peter Parker’s cousin, she would eventually become a sidekick of Spiderman who not only was a quick learner thanks to her cousin, but she was the perfect silent weapon because no one would suspect a child (much like how real brown spider bites can be deadly but not really kill).

I had asked my current foster mom if I could audition for the film and thankfully she said yes but she had to run it by the system if I could audition for a film role.  Surprisingly the foster system I was put in allowed me to audition and by a miracle I got the role.

So I was flown out from my home of Colorado Springs to New York where they were filming Spiderman: Homecoming.  And surprisingly the entire cast didn’t treat me with sympathy or made me feel out of place because I was a foster child, they saw the potential in me as an actress and as a person.

They looked past the fact that I was a foster kid and just saw me, which I really liked, especially from some of my heroes like Mr. Downey (oh I guess I should say Robert since he told me that Mr. Downey made him sound like his dad), Tom Holland and of course my true role model Zendaya (since I love KC Undercover).

Now it was getting close to the holiday seasons, my favorite time of year actually Christmas time.  I’ve always wanted to know how people celebrate Christmas unfortunately the foster family I live with didn’t celebrate Christmas (something to do with religion or something) so they just treat Christmas like any other day.

So while everyone was closing up the set and locking their trailers, I was sitting in my movie chair while my agent locked up my trailer.  As I was scrolling through my phone, I heard the familiar voice of Tom call out to me.

“Hey (n/n)!” I looked up and smiled at him.  I got out of my chair and raced up to him to give him a big hug.  “Whoa oh man you really are getting strong aren’t yah? Almost knock me off my feet.”

“Sorry Tom.”

“Hey don’t even worry about it. So you excited for the holidays? You got any idea what you’re gonna get for Christmas?” at that point I looked down and I told him.

“Not really.”

“Why not? You’ve been the sweetest girl I’ve met, I’m sure Santa’s got you at the top of his nice list.”

“Maybe. But I won’t know cause the foster parents I’m with don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“Really?” I nodded. “Well do they celebrate a different holiday? Like Hanukah or Kwanzaa?” I shook my head no.

“The only holidays they really celebrate are New Years, Valentine’s day, 4th of July, and Halloween.”

“Wait so not even Thanksgiving? Cause I hear that’s a big celebration here.”

“They just treat it like a normal day. I think their reason for not celebrating the December holidays is religion or something. And I’ve always wanted to celebrate Christmas but—I was either too young to remember how my first Christmas went or because of now. But what are you doing for Christmas Tom?” I asked trying to lighten the mood since I had seen that I made him upset.

“Well just gonna go home, be with Tessa and my brothers and the rest of the family.”

“Wow, that sounds like fun. I hope you have a good Christmas Tom. I’ll see you in the New Year when we get back to filming.” I turned and went to grab my phone when Tom said.

“Actually (y/n). Would you like to come to London with me for Christmas?” I turned to him and was shocked at what I just heard him say.

“You—you’d really want me there?”

“Yeah. I mean I was hoping to kinda make it a surprise by tomorrow but as you know I’m—pretty terrible at keeping secrets. So I got in touch with your foster parents and the foster system you’re under and they’ve allowed you to come spend the holidays with me.”

“Really? They did?”

“Yeah. So—do you wanna come with me and meet my family?”

“Yes!” I ran back towards him and hugged him again.  This time he picked me up so that I could now wrap my arms around his neck.

“That’s great! So the plane leaves in a few hours, why don’t you get your stuff and I’ll meet you outside with Harry and we can drive up to the airport.”

“Okay.” We then pecked each other’s cheeks and I quickly raced off to find my bag that my agent Mr. Jones had.  He handed me my bag and told me to behave and that if anything happened, just call either him or my foster parents.  I told him I would be on my best behavior and with that we hugged each other and I walked outside the studio and saw Tom and Harrison outside about to get into the taxi.

“Ahh (n/n) over here!” I rushed over as fast as I could before Tom met me half way and picked me up and tossed me in the air making me giggle as he held onto me with one arm before taking my suitcase with his other hand.

“So you ready to see England (y/n)?” asked Harry.

“Yeah. Is it really as big as they make it in the movies?” I asked.

“You’ll have to see for yourself.” He answered.  We all then piled in the car and Harry told the driver to take us to the airport.

“You think Tessa will remember me?” I asked Tom.

“Of course she’ll remember you. She loves you.”

“Is flying over an ocean different than flying over cities?”

“Not really. You nervous about flying overseas?”

“I mean a little. Sorry.”

“No, no there’s no need to apologize love. I remember flying overseas the first time and it can be scary. But you’ve got me, right?”

“Right.” I said with a nod.

“So there’s nothing to be afraid of (n/n). I’ll be right there with you the entire time. And you can always hold my hand if you feel a little scared, okay?”

“Okay, thanks Tom.”

“No problem.” It took a long time but we finally arrived at the airport and we did all the usual stuff they make you do at the airport before we were finally allowed to head to our gate.  It was about an hour and a half wait before our plane even arrived so Tom and I ended up playing Super Mario Kart on our Nintendo switches.

I was in my lead with Mario but Tom cheated and bashed into me with his Yoshi.

“Hey that’s cheating!” I exclaimed.

“All’s fair in Mario Kart my dear (y/n). And Yoshi is the best there is.” He mocked back at me.

“Yoshi’s a cheater and a bully.” I whined as I tried to take back the lead.  Then just my luck, Tom’s cell chimes his text tone and he had no choice but to answer it because for some reason it kept chiming repeatedly.  So as he looked down at his phone, I crashed into Yoshi and took back the lead and won the race. “I win!”

“What oh that’s not fair you knew I was distracted!”

“All’s fair in Mario Kart Tom.” I threw his words back at him.

“Ohh she got you there mate.” Harry laughed.

“Okay, okay then, alright then yah little miss smarty pants.” Tom said with a quirk of his brow while I did my victory dance just to rub it in Tom’s face that I won and he lost.

“1st class flight nonstop to London England now boarding, 1st class passengers only can now board.”

“Ohh that’s us. Get your tickets ready.” Harry said as the three of us grabbed our small bags and we showed the lady our tickets before going through the tunnel and finally getting on the plane.  We got into our seats and I looked out the window seat and waited another long time before we finally started to take off.

As the plane began to take off, I felt my stomach beginning to sink down to my feet. That’s probably the one thing I didn’t like when it came to flying, that and having my ears popping.  I rubbed my ears as I could feel them beginning to ache, that’s when Tom took my hand and said.

“You best not do that, it’ll only make it worse.”

“Then what can I do to make them stop ringing and popping?” I asked.

“Here’s a trick my dad taught me. Plug your nose, like you’re about to dive in a pool.” He said as he demonstrated for me and I followed suit. “Then as hard as you can blow from your nose. That’ll make your ears pop open.”

“Your voice sounds funny Tom.” I giggled hearing how his voice sounded with his nose plugged up.

“Well so does your little missy.” He mocked back. “Okay so let’s blow together on three okay?” I nodded. “One….”

“Two….”

“Three.” And as hard as I could I blew as hard as I could.  “It didn’t work.”

“Try it again, sometimes it takes a couple of tries.” He told me.  He counted down again and I blew as hard as I could again, this time feeling my ears pop however the second they did I was met with this agonizing pain as I began to rub them again. “No, no don’t rub them it’ll only make them worse.”

“But it hurts Tom!” I whined out.

“I know but trust me, the pain’s gonna subside soon. Just give it a moment. Here wanna hear a story about Tessa that my mum told me awhile ago?” I nodded and he then told me of how Paddy taught Tessa a new trick with balancing food on top of her nose before getting the command to eat it.

Hearing that story gave me a good distraction and soon enough my ears were better and no linger hurting anymore.  It was then we were told by the captain that we could now take our electronic devices out and that’s when Tom proceeded to take pictures of Harry and I and he posted it up on Instagram telling his fans that we were on our way home for Christmas.

He then even showed me the video of the trick he told me about earlier. Apparently his brother Paddy managed to get a recording of it as well and he sent it to Tom.  So I got to see for myself Tessa’s new trick.

“Do you think she’ll come to the airport?” I asked him.

“Maybe, mum and dad know how much I love spoiling that Princess of mine. Well next to you munchkin.” He said with a playful ruffle of my hair.

“Tom!” I whined out.  He chuckled and we proceeded to watch all the videos of Tessa that he had.  We continued with a few more games of Super Mario Kart or Mario vs. Sonic the Olympics.  After several hours even with it still being daylight out the window, I began to grow tired.

“It’ll still be a long while before we get to London, why don’t you take a little nap?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. See that’s the best part about long flights, you get to catch up on sleep. And I know these past few months have been rough on you even with just 10 hours of filming you have to do. So go on take a little nap.”

“Okay, hey Harry?”

“Yeah?” he said as he looked up from his phone.

“Please beat Tom in another round of Mario Kart for me will you?”

“Hey! You win one time and you act like you’ve won the super bowl.” Tom said which made Harrison laugh.

“I’ll win one for you kiddo. Besides someone needs to knock this rotter down to size.” He said gesturing to Tom to which Tom glared at him.

“Okay you cheeky little kitten, go to sleep.” He brought out my pillow and blanket and lowered the window screen down so the sun wasn’t shining in my eyes and covered me up.  I placed myself against the wall and soon I fell fast asleep, suddenly feeling the exhaustion from the past few months from all the filming and jumping and swinging I had to learn for the film.

“(Y/n)? Hey (Y/n),” I moaned tiredly and woke up to see that I had went from the wall to spreading across Tom’s lap. “We’re here.” I looked outside to see that it was still pitch black out.

“What time is it?” I said as I stretched myself out.

“A little past 3am. So it’s still early for you to be fully awake. But don’t worry we’ll meet my parents in the car and you can go back to sleep on the way to the house.” He unbuckled my seatbelt and packed my blanket and pillow away in my bag. He picked up my bag then he went and picked me up. “Okay there we go love.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung onto him like a sleepy koala while Tom walked out holding onto me with his arms wrapped around me.  From my constant eyes opening and closing trying to fight off sleep, I saw Tom walk through the tunnel before we were finally out the gate and I felt him waving.

“Hey mum, hey dad.”

“Welcome home son, Harrison, and this tired young thing must be (y/n).” I turned to look up and as I rubbed my eyes, I saw Tom’s parents.  They looked like nice people but I was just too tired to fully introduced myself.

“Now Dominic, you can tease the girl when she’s fully awake. C’mon you three must be exhausted. Let’s get you all home and into bed.” Tom’s mum said.

“Thanks mum.” Tom adjusted me back into his arms so that I was now lying against him but I still clung onto him as we all left the airport.  I don’t really remember much after that because soon I went back to sleep against Tom’s chest.

When I woke up the next morning I found myself in a bedroom.  It was painted gray and the sheets were a dark blue color.  I heard the door open and the next thing I knew this big mass of gray came hopping right towards me and I was greeted with wet kisses.  I knew only one creature who greeted me like that.

“Tessa! Awww Tess I missed you so much!” I cooed as I scratched her belly and squished her face between my hands.

“She could hardly contain herself when we came home last night.” I looked up and I saw Tom leaning up against the edge of the door.  “It does warm my heart to see you liking Tessa.”

“Why wouldn’t I? She’s an angel.”

“Guess it’s kinda due to her breed. Blue Staffys’ are considered one of the most dangerous dogs here in the UK.”

“But that doesn’t mean she’s vicious. It’s the same with pit bulls. My foster dad back home tries to keep me away from the neighbors white and brown pitbull Titan every time he escapes. But he’s not vicious, unless you count licking someone to death vicious.”

“Man I’m so glad you think that way (y/n).”

“Yeah. That’s what Mrs. Spencer always tells me whenever it comes to dogs. I wish I could have one, or a cat for that matter but my foster dad’s allergic to cats and my foster mom is terrified of dogs, unless they’re the purse dogs but I don’t really like them.”

“Why’s that? Just out of curiosity.” He asked as he came over and sat down at the foot of the bed while Tessa placed her paw on my lap finally calming down.

“Not big enough. I’ve always wanted a dog that I could cuddly with like a teddy bear. Or play fetch with. At my last foster home that I could remember, there was this family that has these Chicha…..Chicas…..I can never pronounce the name.”

“Chihuahuas?”

“Yes that’s it. They had about five of them and they weren’t very nice. Those are the dogs my current foster dad would say were vicious, because they always attacked anything and one of them even ripped my favorite jeans apart.”

“Ahh man that’s terrible. I’m sorry that happened to you.” He said as he gently stroked down my hair.

“Yeah but it’s better than what it could’ve been.”

“True, true, but you never need to worry about getting hurt by this pretty princess.” Tom cooed as he leaned over and kissed Tessa’s head repeatedly.

“So it’s Christmas Eve, what do you guys usually do first?”

“Oh right it is. Well if you’ll come downstairs with me my lady, I will show you firsthand what Christmas is like in the Holland household.” I then got out of bed and Tessa hopped down and went on ahead and raced down the stairs with Tom and I following behind her.

When we got downstairs, all I could see was pure magic.  Lights and Christmas decorations everywhere.  There were tiny villages out along some of the tables and china cabinets standing all on top of some type of cotton or something, which made it look like the villages were on top of snow.

“Wow, this is so pretty.” I said in awe.

“You really like it dear? My mum and I collected those little Christmas villages every year when I was growing up. Each year we’d add a new addition to our collection and make our little Christmas town grow even bigger.” I looked up and there I saw a woman standing beside me.

“Morning mum.” Tom said.

“Morning love, did you sleep okay?” she asked as Tom hugged her.

“Always. (Y/n) this is my lovely mum Nicola, mum this is (y/n).”

“It’s an honor to meet you (y/n). Tom’s told us so much about you.” She said as she knelt down to my height and held out her hand.  I shyly shook it and said.

“Tom’s told me a lot about his family. You all seem really nice.”

“Well Paddy and Harry cane be rambunctious and tricky little buggers but they’re cool.”

“Thomas behave.” His mom lectured him which made me giggle.

“So shall we get started on the gingerbread houses mum?”

“Yes we shall. But as punishment for your comment against your brothers, you’re gonna be doing the hard part of gluing the house together.”

“Aww mum!” whine Tom which made me snicker. “Laugh it up fuzzball.” Tom said to me.

“Hey who you calling a fuzzball you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy looking nerf-herder!”

“Whose scruffy looking?”

“Alight, alright enough you two. At this point the both of you are looking at gluing the gingerbread house together.”

“Sorry Mrs. Holland.” I apologized.

“It’s fine dear, now then both of you in the kitchen now.” Tom and I then raced to the kitchen with his mum telling us not to run in the house.  A few minutes later, his dad and his brothers Harry, Sam and Paddy all arrived in the kitchen.  His brother’s were pretty good, especially Paddy who let me in on all the embarrassing stories of Tom.

“And then there was this one time when he was in Year 11 when he went to the winter formal and tried to ask this girl he liked by…..”

“NO! Don’t you dare tell that story!” Tom shouted at him.

“Why not I think (y/n) should hear it.” Paddy mocked.

“What? What happened?” I asked.

“It’s nothing, nothing happened.”

“Tom went outside her house with a boombox playing some sappy love song.” Sam said.

“N you didn’t.” I proclaimed.

“So what if I did?”

“What did you think you were in, the 1980?”

“Hey she loved 80’s movies and Say Anything was her favorite so I figured she’d think it was sweet.”

“Yeah till she said it was corny and turned yah down.” Said Paddy.

“Well I thought it was real sweet the way Tom asked out his date. Of course she turned out to not be the one, but that’s fine because at least now I know that I raised my little Thomas to be a romantic.” His mom said as she came over and pinched his cheek.

“Mum please!”

“Alright, alright enough talk. Let’s get this gingerbread house up and ready to go.” His dad stated.

“So how exactly do you make gingerbread houses?” I asked.

“Just watch us and jump in whenever you think you got it.” Said Paddy as his brother Sam got the supplies.  He dumped out the cookies while Tom’s mom and dad got the icing and graham crackers out.

It was then the Hollands’ began to build their gingerbread house.  Just as Tom was about to glue the pieces together, I decided to step in and I told Paddy.

“I can hold it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah I got this.”

“Okay now (n/n) be sure you hold this nice and still while I glue it okay?”

“I got it Tom.” He then proceeded to start gluing the walls together then once he was done, he placed his hands over mine to give it a bit more pressure so that the two pieces could stay glued together.

“Hey (y/n) mind helping me out with this? I’m trying to pick the glitter patterns for this year but I can’t figure out what to do.” His mom said.  Tom allowed my hands to come out from under his and I quickly went over and she helped me look over the glitter patterns.

“Hmm……what about the silver and gold pattern? Like in Rudolph.”

“Brilliant. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oi (y/n), mind helping us pick out the gumdrop patterns. We got the colors we want but can’t figure out the pattern.” Sam said.  I looked over to see the three colors they’ve chosen; purple, green, yellow and red.

“Hmm…..why not do purple, yellow, green and red? Cause red and blue make purple, so by ending it with red we can start back to the purple, even without the blue.”

“Oh yeah. Thanks (n/n).” Sam said as he ruffled my hair.  It took awhile but finally we managed to get the gingerbread house all done and decorated.

“Alright everyone, I officially declare that the 2016 Gingerbread Holland house is officially made.” His dad proclaimed and we all applauded.

“And of course let’s not forget the biggest help of all, Miss (Y/n) (l/n).” Tom proclaimed as his family clapped for me as Tom picked me up and paraded me around the kitchen.

After the gingerbread house we were watching some Christmas movies while his mom was making us some lunch.  Right now we were watching one of the old animated movies, we had just gotten done with Rudolph and now we were watching Frosty the Snowman.

“See before Olaf came along with his warm hugs, Frosty was the OG. He was the man!” Harry proclaimed.

“We get it Harry, you love Frosty and hate Frozen, let it go.” Sam said which made Paddy laugh.

“I see what you did, good one Sam.” They fist bumped with each other.

“You guys are such dicks.” Harry said.

“Harry! Language!” Tom said as he covered my ears trying to block my ears from hearing the words.  Truth is I’ve heard every single bad word in the book thanks to my foster mom’s brother.

“Lunch is served.” Tom’s mom came in with a plate of sandwiches, ranging from ham, ham and cheese, veggie sandwiches, or turkey.  I grabbed a plain ham sandwich and that’s when I felt a nudge at my leg.  I looked down and there was Tessa looking up at me with those big brown eyes, she licked her chops as she eyed my sandwich.

“Ah-ah Tessa, go on scoot. Scoot!” Tom’s dad said as he took notice of Tessa from the chair that was beside me.

“Tess,” Tom said before giving one whistle and Tessa went over to Tom and he told her, “Tessa down. Down. Good girl Tess.” When I saw Tessa lie on her stomach, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.  I heard her take a deep sigh as she began to close her eyes.

I looked around to make sure no one was looking before ripping a part of my sandwich off and I lowered it down towards Tessa.  She immediately lifted her head and reached her neck out before finally scarfing down the sandwich.  I patted her head and quickly went back to watching TV.

“I saw that.” I heard Tom whisper in my ear.  Uh-oh busted.  I looked up at him with the most innocent face and whispered back.

“Saw what?”

“Don’t you play dumb, you’re gonna get it later little missy.” He teased as he pressed his forehead against mine before turning his attention back to the TV.  I gulped thinking just what did Tom have in mind.

When the sun began to set, it was time for Christmas dinner.  There was turkey, pudding, pies, cookies (which I helped make with Tom’s mom), cakes and fruits and veggies.  As we all gathered around the table, I ate a piece of turkey, I was suddenly feeling this—bubbly feeling in my stomach.  I don’t know how to describe it, it’s like—that feeling you get in your stomach when you’re sad but also overjoyed with happiness.

“(N/n), you okay?” I heard Tom say.  I nodded and hummed before turning back to my turkey.  “Are you sure? You’ve got the deep in thought look.”

“I’m fine Tom, really. I just…..feel happy to be included in…..a family. For once.” The room went quiet for a long time before Tom’s mom placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and she said.

“We’ve enjoyed having you here with us (y/n).”

“My wife’s right. You’ve been a really big help today, we hope you’ve had an equally good time here with us and that we helped make this a good Christmas for you.” His dad added.

“I have. In fact I—I think this maybe the Christmas I will always remember the most.” I said with a soft smile.  The Holland’s all smiled and I felt Tom pat my back while his brother Harry ruffled my hair and I felt Tessa at my feet.

After dinner we gathered in the living room after getting into our pajamas, I helped place down the cookies for Santa with Paddy. He placed down the milk while I placed down the cookies.

“Okay there’s one last tradition we have before we go to bed.” Tom told me as he sat me down into his lap.

“What’s that?”

“Every Christmas eve we take one gift and open it up, sorta like a sneak peek at what’s coming tomorrow morning.”

“We started shortly after Sam was born, the kid could hardly wait to open up his presents so we decided on one gift just to get him to go back to sleep.” His dad explained.

“I wanna play Santa, I wanna play Santa!” Paddy exclaimed.

“No, no, no Paddy you played Santa last year. Let’s let Tom be Santa this year.” His mom said.  Tom picked me up and I sat beside Tessa and stroked her head while Tom began to pass out presents.

I got my present which was just a simple Christmas bag with red and green paper stuffed inside to hide my present while everyone else got boxes.  Maybe my present was a snow globe or some type of clothing?

“Hang on guys, hold on. I think it’s only fair that we let our biggest help and guest (y/n) open up her present first.” Tom announced once all the presents were given out.  They all agreed before turning to face me.

“Okay, if you all say so.” I dug through the bag and pulled out the green and red wrapping paper to reveal an envelope.  Okay I was confused? Why was I given an envelope, if it was a Christmas cars I doubt it could fit in this small thing.

“Here I’ll help open it, Harry hand me the letter opener by the dining room table.” Tom said as he came up next to me.  Harry got up and he got the small knife and Tom thanked his brother before opening the envelope with a single swipe.

He handed it back to me and I took out a few pieces of folded paper.  I unfolded the hamburger styled papers and I saw at top the name of the Foster Care system I was put under.  There was all these big words but the one thing that did catch my eye was the signature of Tom’s parents at the bottom.  I looked through the other papers and kept seeing their signatures.

“What’s…..”

“Something I was running through the Foster system as well as my parents. I’ve really enjoyed having you around (n/n), you’re like the little sister I never had and……we want you to be a part of our family.” Tom said as he brought me up onto his lap.

“You—you all…..wanna adopt me?”

“Yes love, if you’ll have us that is. I mean, Tom’s told us so much about it it’s like you’re practically part of the family.” His mom said.

“So what do you say poppet, want to be a Holland?” I was……overjoyed.  A wide smile spread across my face as tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t even form any words as I nodded allowing the tears to fall down my face.  Soon my new family all came up and surrounded me in a group hug.

At this point I don’t care what else I might’ve gotten for Christmas, all that mattered now was this.  I had gotten the one wish I had always wanted, the one gift I hoped I would get someday.  A family.

It was then the next morning, waking up that Christmas day, in fact it became a White Christmas day, I got to spend the entire morning with my new family making snow angels with my new brothers, having snowball fights, learning how to build a snowman with my new mom and dad, and playing around with my dog Tessa.

In the years to come those Christmases grew to be better than the last but none of them will ever compare to my first Christmas I had with my new family.

[romaniassexdungeon]

Who fortune could not save

Pairing: LadKug

Summary: As his relationship with the eccentric Franz Edelstein grows, Lars Oxenstjärna contemplates how little he knows of the man's past, why that could possibly be, and how much of his own past is worth revealing.

Notes: Well, this is the first in a series of one-shots involving APH ships based on various Pogues songs that are all pretty sad and melancholy because most Pogues songs are depressing as fuck. This one's LadKug and although it could be argued most of these stories take place in the same universe (with the exception of the RoBul and aph Australia ones), the two that are definitely linked to this are the AusHun and SuFin stories, so please look out for those. A lot of these stories are epistolary too, because that's something I want to explore more and I like using them for historical fics.

This particular song is based on 'Thousands are Sailing' and parts of this song also inspired the SuFin and AusHun ones, though they get their own songs too.

Read on AO3

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"In manhattan's desert twilight In the death of afternoon We stepped hand in hand on broadway Like the first man on the moon"

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Franz - Kugelmugel Lars - Ladonia

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18th October, 1952

Franz, my dearest friend,

You said you do not have anyone to send letters to. Well now you have me! I mean, you already had me but now you have me and a letter to read whenever you please. Maybe I can even write to you about things my stupid mouth refuses to say aloud. Or, you know, about the important things. Or about you. Or all three?

For example, I wish I knew what to say about so many things. I wish you were less alone. Where are your parents? Do you not have brothers or sisters? I cannot even believe you came to this country alone. Were you scared? You travelled to England as a child. To live? Your parents let you live on your own like that? Like a grown up? You were so lucky!

I did not mean to make this a letter prying into your personal life. Tell me when you want to.

The truth is, I have no idea what to put in a letter. We see each other every week. I suppose I could complain about Peter, but I do that in person already. Is there anywhere you would like us to go? I feel there is still so much of this city we have yet to explore – and I have lived here since I was three!

All the best,

Your good friend Lars

19th October, 1952

Dear diary,

Trying to recall my earliest memories reminds me of drowning. Like I am surrounded by inky water and clawing my way towards the light. It is like staring at a half-finished painting. Or an abstract work of art whose meaning you have not quite yet grasped.

Trying to put dates and time spans to these memories would be like tearing the pages of this diary out and throwing them on the floor, only to spend days putting them back in order.

This is how I feel trying to remember my papa.

I have one memory of his face. His living face, that is. Warm. Stern, but kind. He was proud of me, I think. Maybe I had taken my first steps? Or fed myself? But he was overjoyed. Was it back in Sweden? Maybe that is my only memory of Sweden, but I have long forgotten everything in the image that was not papa.

In my other memories, he is a corpse.

I remember wondering why papa was sleeping on the table. Why was the blanket covering his face? I was never allowed to hide under the covers – Mr Tino said I might suffocate in the night. He always worried about things like that.

He was crying. I wondered if it was because papa was sleeping under the covers. And on the table.

Papa was a strange man, or so I have since been told.

They put him in a box and buried him in the ground. I tried to climb in after him, wake him up and get him out of there or he’d be scared when he woke up. Mr Tino cried and pulled me out. I thought he might get angry, shout at me and tell me to stop playing, but he never; he just cuddled me as I screamed to get papa out of there.

He didn’t like the dark. What were they doing?

Peter threw flowers into the hole after him. I remember little else.

I have yet to think of the reason I write all this down. Why would I want to document such an event? Then again, these are the only memories of papa I have.

Mr Tino told me to call him Isi. He said he was our new papa, that our real papa had asked him to look after us as if we were his own children. It was something we accepted without much thought, and something I will always accept.

Lucky I have more memories of Isi. He truly was my second father and I only wish Franz could meet him too. They would get along, most likely, travelling all the way from Europe.

I think I now accept I cannot remember a thing about Sweden.

28th October, 1952

My own dearest friend,

I feel there are many things I have never explained to you, things I felt I did not need to and things I did not want to speak of. Not right now. I have told no one for thirteen years and will do at some point, but I want to know I can trust you with such information. Do not speak of Kindertransport again until I am ready to explain, or do your own research for the time being and think of what you truly wish to ask.

Regardless, I agree with your wish to be less alone. I have had no one, really. Not in a good while.

Prying aside, I did enjoy your letter. I have not had post in a long time – even my foster family in England have moved on – but now I not only have a beautiful letter but something of you I can hold and keep with me! Thank you.

Yours faithfully,

Franz Edelstein

31st December, 1952

My diary,

I should invite Franz over. We always go to his apartment and he cooks for me and fusses over me so much. I love it but sometimes I feel bad that he does so much work. I mean, he has that job at the theatre and still makes time to care for me like we are married?

I will cook for him! I will make him something Swedish – he likes Swedish, so he was telling me. No, wait, I don't get paid for a few more days... cupboard leftovers it is, I'm afraid. Sorry, Franz.

I will make sure Peter is on his best behaviour too. Or, preferably, not home at all. Is there not someone he can go out drinking with? He certainly is going nowhere near the kitchen.

I wish I had somewhere more impressive to bring you, Franz. A one-room apartment… what to do? The tour would be rather a disappointment:

“So this is where I sleep, and I eat in that chair with the creaky leg, and that dark stain on the ceiling is from where my adoptive father blew his brains out.”

No! We will have a good time! I just have to believe in my abilities as an entertainer.

1st January, 1953

Dear diary,

So I burnt dinner.

Franz tried his best to spare my feelings and eat a lump of spam and chips that I blamed on Peter – yes of course he cooked and left just before you showed up, it is completely his fault that they burnt – but, soon enough, I could see your gourmet stomach was aching.

So we went out to a bar, not the same bar I’d convinced Peter to go it, no, one to more our… tastes. After getting something to eat, of course.

I hope Franz doesn’t think I’m here for his money, though it was lovely sitting in a top-class restaurant, with rich, expensive food and wine. I would love Franz if he wasn’t an actor. He could be homeless and I’d love him all the same. After all, he loves me though I sweep roads for a living.

We stayed at the bar until last year rolled into this, holding each other close and dancing like we were the last two people on earth. Honestly, the way things are headed, we could find wake up and find ourselves the last two people on earth, or that we’ve become nothing but dust and ash, so why not grab every opportunity to live our lives and go out with no regrets? I sang louder and danced harder and held Franz closer at the thought.

A strange way to go about life: both living for the moment and be damned with the consequences; and secrecy mixed with caution because as much as I want to say to hell with everything, there is still a chance of life ahead and I don’t want that life to be spent in prison.

Or, more importantly, I couldn’t bear to see Franz in prison.

Why am I talking about this? I’m here to talk about the best night of my life!

When Franz and I eventually stumbled into the street, it was still night. Morning couldn’t have been far off though and things had an otherworldly magic to them. Or maybe I was too tired and plonked to see properly, but a drunk artist is still an artist, after all. Few cars were about, even as we walked along Broadway, holding each other up and laughing and at some point we danced. Stupid, lively dancing. No music, but no matter.

Lucky for us, Franz’s hair is so long, and he’s so small compared to me. That mess of blond was tied into a ponytail, swishing everywhere and whacking me in the face as he spun. His coat ballooned like a pleated skirt, and he took his hand in mine, leading me in a waltz.

Neon lights overhead were our spotlights, the distant rumbling of cars our cheering audience. He even climbed a lamppost as he sang singing in the rain.

He kissed me before we parted at the end of the night. He caressed my face before disappearing with a wink, wishing myself and the city a good night.

When I got home, I may have cried.

24th May, 1953

Meine Liebe,

I shall give you this letter personally and you in turn will promise to keep it safe and hidden. Written word removes the risk of unwanted ears hearing what I have to say, but creates cold, hard proof that I love you. There, a man condemned. I love you, Lars Birghir Oxenstjärna. What of it, world?

I would ask you to destroy this letter after reading, but I suspect you would like to keep it. After all, I worked hard on making it aesthetically pleasing. Cherish this, but hide it.

Keep it next to your heart, next to me.

You’ve changed my life, you know? You’ve filled it to the top and made it better than I could ever hope for. The colour you brought into this world saved my artist lungs and soul, and it's is starting to push back the tide of grey. It's no longer everywhere I see. I can love the twinkles of light all around me, like I'm walking in a fairy wonderland. I now notice the headlamps of cars that dance across puddles in the road. There is magic in this city and in you, please remember that.

I believe we will last forever, that the love of an artist can never be killed, not truly. We may not see it now, but our relationship will leave its mark on the world.

Until we meet again tomorrow and I can tell you all this in person,

Your dear Franz xx

1st August, 1953

Dear diary,

Franz is the best thing to ever happen to me.

Yes, everything about our relationship must remain a secret, but I’m still so happy to have this gentle, loving man in my life, to caress and hold and swear to protect. We have pockets of moments, between work and trying to sell my paintings. We have nights and whispers and kisses and he tells me he doesn't mind quiet, secret. He hates being exposed, out in the open with everyone knowing everything, like they could use it against him. He is a whirlwind too, but he has his limits.

Franz does look after me, maybe a little too much – I am supposed to be a grown man – but I have promised that nothing bad will happen to him either, not if I can help it. Something tells me he just needs a break in life.

I love his hair so much. It's a wave of ice but the softest things. And his eyes! They look like little jewels and he has a mole on his cheek that is so cute. Anywhere I put my hands is soft, smooth, perfect. Every smile he gives is so genuine I cannot believe I can make a human look at me in such a way! He is an expressive man, must be to work on stage, but every emotion he rides, even the ones he would rather avoid.

Sometimes, at night when he is awake and I'm almost asleep, he looks like he will cry.

I still don’t know much of his past. I don’t know about the kindertransport or the Shoah or any of those words he hesitates in telling me, hesitates more before saying now isn't the time. I understand, I think.

Something evil happened.

I asked Peter, but he knows nothing. Typical. He told me to go to the library, and I suppose, if I have no other option, then I could see what a few hours reading can tell me.

I’ve heard to talk about the Shoah a lot, now that I think of it, not with me, but with older people, other immigrants with haunted looks and old scars. Franz doesn't share the look, but rather one of loss, fear. It ages him before me, and I want to know what was taken from him. If I cannot get it back, I could avenge Franz, right?

I need to know. I have to know what hurt him! I have to be able to protect him properly so he doesn't become like those other people. Is that a possibility?

That’s it! I should ask them instead! Then I will know what to say to Franz, and how to talk to him without causing him to, well, clam up. Maybe I can help?

2nd August, 1953

I understand now. Oh God, I understand now.