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itsallyscorner · 4 years

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Thank you for the request, love!🎄❤️ Hope you don’t mind, I did some changes but it still follows the concept of your request! I hope you like it and happy reading!!❤️ @palna

💌.

The One I’ve Been Missing

This was kinda inspired by Little Mix’s song, “One I’ve Been Missing”, give it a listen :)

Warnings: some angst? Kinda sad for a Christmas fix..but has a some what happy ending. This came out longer than expected..enjoy, I tired:)

(Gif from Pinterest)

The living room was full of smiles and laughter as your family began to create plans for Christmas Day. It was Christmas Eve, and knowing your family, everything was to come together last minute. Though your family didn’t live too far, they had been staying at your place since the weather at your hometown had been absolutely horrible. There had been snow storms that closed down schools, took out power lines, and covered the ground in a thick white blanket of snow.

Your cousins have been arguing about who was going to make the Mac and Cheese this year when your phone began to vibrate in your pocket. You took your phone out and saw that it was Paddy. Paddy was Tom’s younger brother. Even though you and Tom had broken up, your relationship with his family was still strong. You and his brothers had gotten along so well, that they loved you like you were their sister. His parents, Nikki and Dom, have been very supportive of you during the breakup. They were disappointed in Tom for what he did and even apologized for their son’s actions. Though your relationship with their son was undecided at the moment, they always made an effort to call you on holidays or to just say hello once in a while.

You quietly excused yourself and entered the kitchen. Answering the call, you lean on the marble counters of your kitchen. The call goes through and Paddy’s adorable face pops up on your screen. His smile grows into his rosy cheeks when he finally sees you.

“(Y/n)! Merry Christmas!” He happily screams through the phone. You hear Nikki scold him in the background.

“(Y/n), darling! Merry Christmas!” She smiles while waving at the camera.

“Thank you! You guys look like you’re having a blast over there!” You hear a ton of commotion in the background, which was most likely Tom and his siblings showing off their presents to each other or having some pointless argument.

“We are! Sam’s cooked our lunch and he’s planning on making dinner later today! We’ve already opened presents and everyone’s happy! How are you, love? Are you with your family?” She questioned you as she sat on the couch. You saw Dom beside her, who made a funny face and waved at you. You chuckled waving back.

“I’m doing really good, my family has been staying with me for the last few days, so we’ve been together for about a week now? But everything’s going great! It’s Christmas Eve here and now we’re just waiting till midnight to start passing out presents!” You answer.

“Oh that’s good! I’m glad you got to spend time with your family because I’ve heard the weather there has been harsh! Thankfully Harry made it out before that big storm, if he didn’t he wouldn’t be home for the holidays!” Harry had been in your hometown because Tom was filming a new movie there. The set was only an hour away from where you lived, but you never went to visit. Although, you and Harry would meet up sometimes to have lunch together in the city, Harrison would tag along once in a while as well.

“Harry made it home! That’s good news, I was worrying that they wouldn’t make it back on time for Christmas!” You hear someone talk in the background.

“Is that (y/n)?” A deep voice asks. You recognize it to be Harry’s. Nikki nods and motions at him to say hello. Sam and Harry’s heads pop onto the screen with silly grins.

“(Y/n)! Merry Christmas! You look beautiful!” Sam compliments you with a charming smile.

“Aw thank you Sam! You look handsome!” A light blush forms on the boy’s cheeks. Harry takes the phone and asks, “How’s the weather there? Has the storm died down?”

You glanced out the window and saw nothing but white. The storm had stopped yesterday, but there were some random snowfall here and there.

“Well it’s stopped for now, my backyard is literally nothing but white.” You chuckle as you turn your camera to show your spacious backyard.

“Oh! Isn’t that wonderful, we haven’t gotten much snow here this year.” You hear Dom comment. You turn the camera back to yourself and ask Harry, “How was the flight, Haz? Hope it wasn’t too bumpy.”

Harry hummed, “The plane departed when the storm died down so it was a decent flight. There was some turbulence when we got up in the air but it went by smoothly after.”

“At least you got home safe, that’s all that matters.”

“I’m quite surprised I handled the turbulence well on my own. I was getting anxious when the plane started to shake, but towards the end of the flight it was all good.” Your brows furrowed. It was a known fact that Harry wasn’t that good with turbulence (I made that fact up, he’s probably ok w/ turbulence idk). Since he usually traveled with Tom, he had to board many flights. Tom would be the one to calm his brother down when his anxiousness got the best of him. Which made you concerned because you knew Tom wouldn’t let his younger brother board a plane on his own while a snow storm was happening outside.

“Wait Harry, you were by yourself?” You began to question him. Harry was a grown adult, he’s 21, but it still concerned you.

“Yeah, Tom had to stay back since he had to film more scenes.” Harry answered.

“Oh. Did he at least make it back home before the storm?” You continued. A frown was on the boys lips.

“Nope, he got stuck in (your hometown). I was supposed to still be there with him, but he literally forced me to get on a flight home before Christmas.” Harry shrugged. A pout formed on your own lips at the thought of Tom getting stranded in (your hometown). Also the fact that he was probably alone during the holidays. Sure, you and him weren’t on the best terms, but it was Christmas. No one should be alone on Christmas.

You continued to talk to the Holland family for a few more minutes until they told you they had to go. You bid them all goodbye with kisses and a wave before hanging up. When the call ended, the smile on your face fell. You should’ve been happy. You were spending time with your family and it was Christmas Eve! But some things never change. As always, Tom had crept his way into your thoughts.

The breakup between you two was rough and messy. Though you should have seen it coming. There was a lack of communication on both sides of the relationship. You weren’t being honest with your feelings with him and neither was he. Of course, you understood his job. You knew he would have to travel long distances and be in a different time zone as you, he had to be gone for months, and had to work with some of the most beautiful actresses in the business. But there was something about this certain costar that didn’t sit right with you. You trusted Tom and knew that he would never cheat. You just didn’t trust her. You really tried to like her, even had some conversations with her when you went to visit Tom on set. But the way she would touch his arm whenever she would laugh or look at him the same way you would just made your blood boil. Maybe it was the green eyed monster in you that caused all these emotions, you just couldn’t help it. The green eyed monster had taken over you.

For months while Tom worked on that movie, you had been feeling your lowest. You were insecure about yourself and began to second guess things that occurred in your relationship with Tom. Which was not healthy, but it happens, you know? You hated the way you looked and how your body was shaped. You compared yourself to her even though you knew most of the pictures on her Instagram were very much edited. The more Tom got busy, the less he texted or called. Your relationship felt like it was drifting but you still made an effort. You would text him to ask about his day or to just say a simple “good morning” or “good night”. He never got the chance to reply most of the time, but when he did it would be a short response. It wasn’t like the paragraphs of him going on and on about his day and how great it was. Sometimes he would talk about getting a stunt correctly done in one take or how he would get his lines right the first time. You didn’t think much of the short replies, you usually chalked it up to him just being busy. But then you would see him on Harry or Harrison’s story at some restaurant gathered all together. Then she would also be there, nuzzled up against his side while his arm rested behind her chair. That should’ve been you.

You didn’t want to think that he was cheating on you, but the signs were literally there. You shouldn’t have fallen for them and should have talked it out with Tom instead of focusing on the scenarios that were created in your head. You knew Tom was smarter than that. He wouldn’t cheat on you, he promised you that he wouldn’t break your heart. Then those pictures from the club came out.

They were all over Instagram and Twitter. You had multiple fans tagging you on them and saw them everywhere on your feed. It was as if the world was trying to shove it into your face. The picture was taken at a club, it was the usual group of boys accompanied by some cast members from the movies. You assumed there had been some drinks involved, but Tom looked sober as ever. There were many pictures of them. There were some of them laughing, dancing, and drinking together. You spotted his arm wrapped around her waist or his hand touching her in almost all of them. Finally, there were the pictures of them practically sucking the lips off of each other’s faces. They disgusted you. The way his hands were combed through her hair or how they stroked her cheek reminded you of how he kissed you. You remember feeling sick to your stomach. The pain and the anger blended together as the tears blinded your eyes. It was like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake up from.

You realized you had been staring at your phone for the past 10 to 15 minutes. Tears welled up in your eyes as your memory began to remind you of the scar that Tom had left on your life. You felt the presence of the emptiness in your heart that you thought had healed months ago. You still love him. No matter the bullshit you went through with him, you’ve never loved anyone like Tom. The one you’ve been missing was the only thing that could fix the hollowness in your heart.

“You should invite him.” You jump as your mother makes herself present in the room. You place a hand onto your heart to calm its rapid beating.

“Geez, don’t do that.” You run a hand through your hair as you lean on the counter again. Your arms touch the cold marble, bringing some coolness into your warm body.

“You’ve been gone for about thirty minutes, it’s past twelve. Everyone was worrying about you.” You mother settled herself beside you, instead her back was leaning against the marble.

“You still love him.” She tells you quietly. You’re quick to react and stand up straight, “No I— ow my tongue!”

You whine as your teeth bite down on your tongue, your actions acting before your words.

“I don’t.”

“Really? If you didn’t love him anymore, you wouldn’t be talking to his family still or meeting up with his brothers during the weekend” you mother tilted her head at you, her arms crossed.

You shrugged, “They’re nice people.”

“You know, you should stop avoiding the truth. Denying your feelings and lying to yourself is only going to hurt you even more. I’m your mother, I hate seeing you hurt.” You turned to your mom.

“Don’t you hate him?” You asked her, voice quiet.

Your mother had a look of thought on her face, “Of course, I do, he broke your heart. But I don’t know, there’s just something about that boy.”

She snapped her fingers, “Ah! He reminds me of your dad!”

You raise a brow at her, “Tom reminds you of dad?”

“He does. I remember when we were younger, your dad made the same mistakes. I hated his guts but we crossed paths again somewhere down the road and I gave him a second chance. Now how many years later, we’re married with beautiful children and grandchildren.”

You remain silent as you stare at your phone again. You thought about asking Harry for Tom’s address but you were hesitant.

“He’s probably stuck here for a reason, (y/n).” Your mom says with a knowing look. You sigh rubbing the tiredness out your eyes. It had been a long day and you were low on energy.

“He could also be thinking about you right now.” She hummed, starting to make her way out the kitchen.

“How would you know?” You ask her.

“You bit your tongue.” She simply answers before turning the corner. You were alone in the kitchen staring at your phone once again. The debate in your head continuing throughout the night.

~The Next Day~

Your gloved hands gripped onto the steering wheel as you drove through the snowy roads. You were mindful to keep an eye out for any glossy patches to avoid getting into an accident. You turned on the street Harry sent you and peered out your window to look for the number of Tom’s rented house. Harry texted you that the house was a light gray color with black accents and had a 35 nailed to the door. When you spotted the house that matched Harry’s description, you pulled over and put the car in park. You hopped out the car, shivering when the brisk winter air came into contact with your face. Your boots sink into the snow as you trudge your way up to his door.

You get to his doorstep and began to stomp the snow off your boots. Taking a deep breath you brace yourself before you can ring his doorbell.

“It’s Christmas, he shouldn’t be alone on Christmas, this is why you’re doing this.” You mumble to yourself. You started to shake but you weren’t sure if it were your nerves or the cold. It was probably both.

You finger hovered over the doorbell for a moment before you forced yourself to push it. A string of “fucks” began to play over and over in your head like a mantra.

You waited for a few seconds for him to answer but heard nothing. You debated on ringing the bell again but your feet were already turning you away from the door, too scared to face Tom again. You were about to step off his doorstep when you heard footsteps behind the door. The lock clicked and the door opened to reveal Tom, looking disheveled as ever.

His eyes widen when he realizes it was you who rang his bell. His mouth is agape as he tries to form words. The only thing he could muster out is, “(y/n).”

“Hey.” You breath out, taking him in after avoiding him for months straight. You slowly approach him, settling to stand a few feet away from him. His hair had grown out a bit longer and there was a shadow of some facial hair on his face. You noticed that his eyes were a bit dark, almost blank. It was as if the light in his eyes had disappeared.

“What—What are you doing here?” He began to ask. He rushes to add, “Not that I don’t want you here, I’m actually really glad you’re here, but—um. I’m just— hi.” He sighs, shoulders slumping. He eyes you for a second before jumping on his feet.

“How rude of me, do you want to come in? It’s freezing out here.” He moves to the side and opens the door wider so you can walk in. You didn’t want to enter his place but the warmth of the house and the familiar scent of Tom entranced your senses.

You wiped your boots on the doormat and quietly thanked him as you walked into his rented home. You noticed that Love Actually had been playing on the tv while the couch was occupied with a bowl of popcorn and an abandoned Sherpa blanket. You loosen the scarf around your neck and turn to Tom who was already looking at you.

“So, what brings you around? Thought you didn’t want to talk to me ever since what happened.” His voice is strained as he leans against the doorway to the living room.

“Paddy called me on FaceTime yesterday.” You started. Tom sighed, shaking his head at his younger brother. You wave him off, “Don’t worry, I didn’t mind. He actually helped me avoid a family argument about Mac and Cheese.”

Tom was looking down at the floor but you saw his cheeks slightly raise, “Yeah, you never did mind Padd’s eagerness.”

“Well, he’s adorable. Anyway, I ended up talking to Harry and he said that you got stuck here during the blizzard. Also, that you were spending the holidays alone.” You began to explain rocking on the balls of your feet. You turn to his tv, the voices from it murmuring quietly, “So, if you’re done watching Love Actually for the hundredth time, um, you could come over at my place and spend Christmas with my family.”

Tom pushes off the wall and slowly shuffled towards you. His arms are crossed, something he did when he felt nervous or awkward.

“I wouldn’t want to impose, (y/n).” He finally looks up at you, his familiar brown eyes that you missed so much sending comfort into your body.

“Mom insisted.” A hint of a teasing smile played on your chapstick covered lips. No matter the situation between you and Tom, you knew he could never turn down your mother. He adored your mother, he always remembered the time when you first introduced him to her. She welcomed him with open arms and treated him like he were her fifth child.

He lets out a laugh, looking down at himself, “Guess that means I should clean up then?”

He was wearing a grey jumper with black sweatpants. A blue beanie was on his head, the ends of his curls peaking out, and his feet were covered in socks to keep him warm.

“Yeah.” You breathed out, relieved that he agreed to come and you didn’t embarrass yourself.

Tom begins to dust off the couch and moves the popcorn bowl to the coffee table. He sloppily folds the blanket and fluffs the pillows.

“I might take a while, so why don’t you get comfy?” He suggests.

“Sounds good.” You hum and unwrap the scarf from your neck. Tom is by your side at an instant and takes it from your hand. He motions at your jacket causing you to unzip it. He shuffles behind you to help you remove your arms from the sleeves. You turn around to thank him while moving your hair to rest on one side of your shoulder. You catch him staring at you once again.

“What?”

“You just look really beautiful.” He immediately answers. You’re about to respond but Tom begins to talk again, “I—I know I have no place in telling you that, but you just are.”

“Thanks, Tom.” You quietly say. He nods and moves to hang your things on the coat rack. He’s about to head up the stairs but he turns around to look at you again.

“Can we talk after?” His tone is soft, as if he were afraid of breaking the peacefulness between the two of you.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can talk.”

~⏰~

You wait in the living room for Tom to get himself ready. You try to watch the movie but all you can think about was what Tom and you could possibly talk about. You knew it would be about the breakup, but what else was there to discuss?

You heard Tom make his way down the stairs. Your eyes avert themselves to where Tom was coming from. He wore a dress shirt that had white and cream colored stripes going down it, pairing the shirt with dark jeans and dress shoes. His outfit wasn’t too fancy nor casual, it was perfect for Christmas Day with your family.

The smell of his cologne lingered it’s way to your nose. You recognized the smell even months after not seeing Tom. It was the cologne you had gotten him for his birthday. He fell in love with it the moment you gave it to him and had been wearing it ever since. You honestly thought he would switch it up after the breakup, but according to your nose, he hasn’t.

Tom presents himself to you, standing a few feet away from where you were sitting. “How is this? Too much?”

“You’re good, it’s spot on.” You reassure him. Tom hums in approval before settling himself beside you.

This was it. You guys were finally going to talk.

Tom rubs his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees. He looks at you over his shoulder, “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it?”

“Or talked.” You add with a slight shrug. An awkward silence placed itself upon you two.

Tom was the first to speak, “I was a dick. I still am, but I was a dick back then for all the shit I put you through.”

You hesitate to answer but end up agreeing, “You were a dick. But we were both responsible for what happened.”

Tom shook his head, “No, don’t try to make me feel better. I know what I did was stupid and I should have been honest with you from the start. This was all my fault. I was a horrible boyfriend, everyone made me see that. Including my parents.”

Tom turns his body to face you, “I thought not telling you this would hurt you and I less, but it only made it a hundred times worse.” Your brows bunch together.

“What do you mean?”

“I know when we broke up I said a bunch of bullshit, but I just want to explain myself, please?” His eyes are pleading, almost glossy. You motion for him to continue.

“The thing that happened between me and her was all the studio’s plan. Though I’m not going to lie and say it was all their fault, because I also played a part in it. But that was how it started. They wanted us to put on a show and lead the fans on so it could be used as promo for the movie.” He admitted. Your mouth gapes at his confession. He was probably telling the truth, but it could’ve also been a front.

“And you’re telling me this now? What, did it take you eight months to come up with an excuse for cheating?” You angrily said. “And even if it was for promo, it’s still cheating, Tom! You knew you had a girlfriend when you agreed to go along with their stupid plan!”

Tom sighed frustratedly, rubbing his palms against his face, “I know, I know it sounds made up but I swear to you, (y/n) I’m telling you the truth!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me about it from the start? Did you really think lying was better than telling me the truth? I thought we were supposed to be honest with each other, you literally broke so many promises, Tom!” You stood up, the anger fuming in you growing too much for your body.

Tom stood up as well, “I only lied to you to protect you! I thought it would be better if you thought we were drifting apart than telling you I had to be publicly seen with a girl that’s not you! By the way, I wasn’t the only one who was being dishonest, so were you!”

“No, don’t turn this around on me! I wouldn’t have to had lie about my feelings if you would’ve told me the truth! This was all your fault Tom, you’re the one who agreed to some stupid pr stunt.” Your finger jabbed itself into his chest as you told him off about his doings.

Tom took your jabs as he shamefully looked down at his feet. “You don’t think I know that?”

“I know this was my fault, (y/n).” His tearful eyes lock onto yours. His jaw clenched as he tried to stop his tears from falling.

Your hand comes back to rest at your side, “If you knew it would break us up, then why did you agree to it, Tom?”

“Because it was either actually breaking up with you or agreeing to some stunt that’ll make me seem like some Hollywood hotshot who gets all the women.” He confessed. To Tom, it felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders. But to you it felt the opposite. All the new information seemed as if it were piling up on you, making you overwhelmed.

“If I chose neither of them, I would’ve been fired from the film and they were planning on blackmailing me, so I chose the second option. I know it wasn’t the best decision, seeing how we are now. But it was the only choice where I would still be with you.” He explains leaning forward to her closer to you. Your arms crossed to form some kind of protection for yourself.

You had just realized that Tom forced himself into a stunt just so he can still be with you. It wasn’t the best option, but he chose the option where the two of you could still be together. You sighed not knowing how to react, it all just seemed like too much.

“I—Tom you can’t just tell me all of this and expect everything to be okay between us.” You run your hand through your hair. Your eyes watering from the frustration.

“I understand why you would keep it from me, but why did you wait so long? You could’ve said that eight months ago and I probably wouldn’t have hated you as much as I do now.” Your nails dig into your skin.

Tom looks up at you, “You hate me?” He croaks out.

Your head tilts at him, “Why wouldn’t I hate you? I hate you—I’m supposed to hate you but I just can’t and I don’t know why. You’re just, you’re you and no matter how many times I try to hate you I just can’t.”

Tom shifts closer, his frame now towering over you. His fingers slightly brush against yours, causing a rush of electricity to shoot through your body.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything, I know I should have been honest and told you the truth. I know what I did wrong and I’m sorry.” He gently cups your face to look up at him. You missed the feel of his hands against your skin and couldn’t hold yourself back from nuzzling against his warm palms.

“I still love you so much, (y/n). I never stopped. I just—is it too late for a second chance? I know it’s not going to be the same as when we were together but I’m willing to try again. I promise I will try harder and I’ll be honest, I’ll do everything for you to be mine again. All I want is just another chance.” His thumbs brush against your cheeks. Your hands come up to grip onto his wrists.

“Tom, I don’t know.”

“Please (y/n), it’s been so hard without you. Please I just need you again. I miss you so much, everything’s been going wrong ever since you left and I feel empty. I’m not complete without you.” His voice cracks as he begs for you to give him a chance. You stare at him for a moment and your mother’s voice echos in your head.

“He’s probably stuck here for a reason, (y/n).”

Maybe your mother had a point. Things happen for a reason and maybe this was one of this moments.

Your thumbs stroke the skin of his wrist, “Fine, I’ll give you another chance Tom.”

A look of relief is on his face as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you flush against his chest. You feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest as he shoves his face into your neck.

“Thank you.” He mutters against your skin multiple times. “I promise I won’t screw it up, I’m serious.” He pulls away to make sure you’re looking into his eyes.

“I’m trusting you to keep that promise. You’re only getting one chance, Tom.” You warn him. Tom nods eagerly.

“I know, I know, I’m not going to mess this up I swear. I’m going to prove that you could trust me again, I’ll do anything.”

You smile before pressing a light kiss on his cheek, “Ok, if you’ll do anything, then we better get going. Mom’s probably wondering what’s the hold up.”

“Right. Yeah, um before we go. If you want to talk more about what happened before or have any questions, you could ask me anytime. I just dumped all of this on you unexpectedly and it probably feels like a lot.” He offers.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

~⏰~

You and Tom arrived at your house to Christmas music blaring from the tv’s speakers and the happy chatter of your family. Your mom spots Tom at the doorway and her face lights up.

“Tom, you came!” She climbs her way through the mass amounts of wrapping paper and your niece and nephews. Tom meets her halfway and helps her remove the wrapping paper that had stuck onto her pants. She pulls him into a hug, which Tom returns immediately.

“Thank you for inviting me.” He smiles as your mom pats his cheek fondly. She waves him off, “Please honey, no one should be alone for Christmas.”

They continue to talk as your mother leads him into the living room. You see him greeting your siblings and cousins, a shy smile on his face as he shakes their hands. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he interacted with your family. It made you feel whole and warm inside, as if the emptiness in your heart was finally recovering.

You were taking off your boots when a shadow fell upon you. You look up to see Tom standing above you. “Need help?”

“No, I almost had it, the knot’s too small for my nails to undo it.” You mutter as your fingers continue to fumble with the knot. Tom kneels in front of you and gently removes your fingers from your boot.

“Let me do it, I know how fussy you get when you mess up your nails.” You smile fondly at him. The fact that he remembered how you hated messing up your nails after getting them done made the butterflies in your stomach erupt.

He gets the knot undone successfully and pulls off your boot. He holds a hand out for you and you take it. You stand up and thank him before glancing at your clothes.

“I’m gonna go upstairs and clean myself up for lunch. I’ll be back.” You place a hand on his shoulder before turning to go up the stairs. You feel his hand grip onto yours, pulling you back.

“I’ll save you a seat beside me?”

You squeeze his hand, “Yeah, I appreciate it.”

He watches you head up the stairs till the moment you turn the corner. He couldn’t believe you were back in his life. You haven’t changed at all in the months you’ve been apart. You were still beautiful and radiant as ever. He was so thankful for whatever gods that allowed him to have a second chance with you. You were all he wanted and he wasn’t going to screw it up like last time.

Your mother had called for everyone to sit at the table and you still weren’t there. Thirty or more minutes had passed since you went upstairs and so far he’s been catching up with your siblings and cousins. He’s also been dragged into playing “race cars” with your nephews and “princesses” with your only niece. Everyone had slowly shuffled into your dinning room but you were still missing. Tom even hung back in the living room for a while to see if you would catch up.

You mother spotted Tom looking back at the stairs as he decided to join your family in the dining room. She approached him and turned him towards the stairs, “Why don’t you go and check on her, tell her lunch is ready.”

Tom nods and climbs up the stairs. He’s been to your home multiple times while you two were together so he wasn’t lost. He found your door and knocked on it.

“I’ll be down in a sec!” He hears you yell from behind the door.

“Your mom said to call you down for lunch and see what’s been taking you so long.” Tom leans against the wall as he wait for you to open the door. The lock clicks and you pull it open. Your hair was in loose curls and there was some light makeup on your face. You weren’t in the jeans and sweater you were in earlier, now you were dressed in a white sweater and grey knee high boots.

“Hey.” He greets you. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” You close the door behind yourself and stand across from Tom. He notices a shimmer around your neck. The silver chain with a circle charm hanging from it caught his eyes.

“You still have that?” He points out stepping closer to you. You glance at the necklace, “Of course I do. You gave it to me for my birthday.” Your fingers envelope around the charm, fiddling with it.

“You look stunning.” He says.

“Thanks.” The two of you stand there for a moment before Tom’s stomach grumbled.

“I think we should get going.” You laughed as you hooked your hand with his.

The two of you sat side by side at the table. He was a gentleman as always. He pulled your seat out for you and pushed it in once you were settled. He helped passed the dishes to you and even insisted on placing the food onto your plate. Lunch had gone smoothly, it was only filled with laughs, some catching up, and the stories your parents would tell at the table every year.

Your parents were in the middle of retelling their first Christmas together with your older brother, their first born. Your parents were reminiscing about the pearl ring your father gave her and how much it meant to her. You were listening to your parents when you felt a hand grip onto yours under the table. You glance down to see Tom had placed his hand above yours. His large hand enveloping your smaller ones.

“You alright?” You lean closer to him so only he can hear you. Tom squeezes your hand as a small smile forms on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m just glad to be here. Thank you.” He whispers. Your other hand covers his, your thumb stroking the top of his hand.

“So am I.” For the first time in those months apart, you finally felt like everything was complete again. Sure, you two had many things to work out and discuss. But right now, all you can think about was the man sat beside you. You weren’t missing him anymore, he was right there beside you. He was actually with you. All you wanted for Christmas was the one you’ve been missing and after eight long months of pain and longing, your wish finally came true.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #Tom Holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland angst #tom holland headcanon #tom holland drabble #tom stanley holland #Peter Parker #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker imagines #ally’s requests

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seraphdarlimg · 4 years

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wish I were...

after Harry kisses reader, she watches him mesmerized as his ex walks by

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST. WORD COUNT - 2,109

A/N: this is the first imagine I’ve ever posted on here hehe. but this most likely will be a 2-3 part mini series of pure angst...so yay!

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"My goodness, I can't believe it's been a year and this is how we're celebrating it? " I take a sip from my wine glass with a raised brow towards Harry. We were sat on the floor at the recording studio, having a makeshift little picnic to celebrate a year. A whole year of a beautiful friendship. "Well I thought it'd be fitting, ya know this is where we met and stuff. Look, I even got those Korean chips that you snacked on that day!" I laugh as he comically picks up a chip and places it in his mouth, followed by an exaggerated moan. I try to hide the blush rapidly heating up my face at how much effort he put into this silly thing. It started as a little joke I brought up to him one day when we were having a lazy day, and of course Harry would take it seriously. He planned the little picnic basket after a day in the studio when everyone else left and he had asked me to stay a little longer to help him with lyrics and whatnot. It was a complete surprise and I couldn't help but adore how happy and proud he was setting this up.

"Alright I gotta give it to ya H, you are the bestest friend anyone could ever ask for. I'm just happy that you didn't include those disgusting kale chips of yours." The smile that hasn't left his face drops into a shocked and offended look.

"Hey, you said you wouldn't make fun of my addiction anymore." He scoots closer to me, gently poking my rib to which I immediately jump and swat his hand away. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry!" I giggled when he makes himself comfty sat right next to me.

Subconsciously, I move closer till his shoulder touched mine. "I like this sweater, it's fluffy and keeps people warm." I say, huddling into the fabric that Harry gave me to wear when it got colder. "You know what, I like all your sweaters H, they're all impeccable." He chuckles, "really? It looks better on you than me, bubs." I smile, using the over-sized sleeves to cover my face and faking a groan. "Oh you would with that cliché ass line." "It's true! Beautiful in m'clothes." He mumbles and I had to only respond with gratefully lending my shoulder as a resting spot for his head. Considering he literally had to bend his whole body to do so every time he does this, I never understood how he found this comfortable. We shared a comfortable silence for a minute, sipping on our wine, the bottle nearly finished. The courage coming from it is telling me this would be the perfect time. It's the right setting to finally tell him that my feelings go beyond friendship and that it has been since the first month. The thought made me nervous at first, but there had been so many signs from him that had me thinking he's feeling the same way. Maybe those were just my expectations and how loving Harry is, but every time I look at him, I'm mesmerized. "Honestly don't know what I'd do without you bubs." Harry suddenly says and I snap out of my thoughts to glance down at him staring at his empty glass. My heart started beating fast and my breathe hitched when he pulls away only a few inches away to look back at me "This was a tough year and you've been there with me through it all, haven't been this close to someone in that short of time." He says lowly, looking right into my eyes. I take his hand in my small ones and play with his fingers in comfort, as we reflected on how this was both the best and worst year for him. While he became such a successful solo artist after the band and created the best relationships in his life, he reached a mental low dealing with his own insecurities and went through a breakup that took a major toll on him. They ended on good terms, but Harry went through the aftermath of a loss alone. I came in a month after his break up, hired as a lyricist to help him get out of this creative block but also to help him realize how much he was really worth as a person. It was a gradual slow process of friendship at the start, but it quickly blossomed into becoming best friends, growing feelings in between for me. "You're so good to me, I don't deserve it." He was so close and I couldn't tell if I was leaning in or not. My chest feels like it's bursting. "Harry, you've done so much for me, don't put yourself down like that. You deserve my love, mkay?" He looked so vulnerable, staring into my eyes as I couldn't pinpoint what emotion he was feeling right now. I was always able to read Harry easily, but maybe it was the wine that made it harder to understand what was racing through his mind. I couldn't register it. His lips on mine were foreign but felt right, like they fit perfectly. His hands cupping my face gently made me realize this was actually happening. My best friend who I've loved for so long was finally kissing me. "You absolutely deserve mine... " *** My anxiety was getting the best of me. The party wasn't like any other rowdy and crowded New Year's Eve celebration. It was a gathering of close friends and mutual at a penthouse with just enough drinking and fun shenanigans. I knew all these people and they knew me, yet it wasn't easy to breathe regularly for some reason. I smiled and laughed along with the conversation among the circle of friends I situated myself in with Harry standing to my right, two people in-between us. I anxiously played with my fingers wrapped around a bulbous wine glass, zoned out but somewhat participating with the group. I caught his eyes, both of us giving a smile when he shot me a quick goofy face. His eyes trailed down to my hands, an obvious tell. I respond with a reassuring smile, placing my hand on my chest to which he steps outside and moves to stand next to me. I soften as he places a hand casually on my back, rubbing up and down. The nerves die down a bit. Usually, I would of been full comfortable but it was different now. After the kiss Harry and I shared, nothing had changed as much as I wanted it too. There was still the casual flirting and touchy gestures, but other than that, Harry never brought it up. "Soo, what now?" I had asked him when he dropped me off at my apartment. He gives me a tight smile and takes my hand in his, bringing it to his lips. "Still my best girl." I was confused afterwards, not fully understanding how he felt towards me. "Hey, I kind of wanted to talk to you about yesterday... " I approached him in the studio, his sweater keeping me warm that morning. "Oh yeah, you never told me what you wanted for Christmas. And by the way, I'm gonna need that sweater back sooner or later." He chuckles, going back to writing down chord progressions. Him avoiding the subject made me think he didn't want to talk about it, so I stopped trying. It made me insecure a bit to show him any type of affection back, but I didn't have it in me to tell him when I'm engulfed in his huge frame, feeling safe and happy at the moment. What made me snap out of my thoughts was his hand leaving my back and slipping into his jacket pocket. He then started being part of the funny story Mitch was telling, including his own side and little comedic comments that made the group laugh. As much as it brought a smile to my face, there was nothing more I wanted to do than take his arm, wrap it around me and kiss his cheek before laying my head on his chest. He took a second here and there to glance at me, probably aware how tired i was getting even though it was only a few minutes before midnight. The kiss defiantly affected something here, as much as Harry was trying to show that it hasn't, I can at least appreciate the acknowledgment that he shared similar feelings towards me. Maybe this was him thinking about the possibilities afterwards, knowing Harry wasn't very much a confrontational person and has taken time to learn to process things more logically rather than pure emotional instinct. When he catches me staring and throws a knowing smirk followed by a wink, I melt right on the spot but at the same time, holding back from rolling my eyes. I felt his stare kept on me when I looked away, feeling less frustrated and more understanding of his situation. Maybe I do just need to give him time... When I looked back at him, he was now looking away at something else apart from the group. I didn't give it a second glance till I noticed he was fully distracted before Mitch kept calling his name but getting no response back. Harry was in deep trance at something more fascinating than his friend's story, and when I caught sight of what was distracting him, I fully understood why. She stood out, so it wasn't to hard to point her out. But of course she would, she looks stunning in that dress that happens to only be a different shade of color from mine. The natural glam and brightening smile on her face as she talked to mutual friends perfected her look, but it was the sound of her melodic voice that just set the deal. It was her laughter from across the room that caught his attention first, what made him break his gaze on me to her. My first thought was concern for Harry and if he was suddenly feeling overwhelmed or distraught by her presence after a breakup. But then I looked back at him and only saw longing and adoration. It was a look I only was recently familiarized with. I purse my lips to hide the frown set on my face while I felt my heart beat much faster initially, watching him mesmerized as she walks across the floor to greet more party guests. Her blue eyes wide and shining, most likely something Harry was dying to see once again as he hoped she would turn his way. Is this what hopelessness feels like? Mitch gave up on trying to catch his attention as soon as he realized who Harry was looking at, and so did the rest of the group. But here I was, desperately looking up at him in hopes that he would suddenly break away and meet my own eyes that stood right next to him. "Guys! The count downs about to start!" Someone called out, followed by cheers and applause as everyone slowly started gathering towards the balcony to see the firework show and celebration of the city below. She moves away from the crowd though, choosing to be semi alone next to the aquarium with a glass of martini in her hand. More people started crowding around us, the group disintegrated into a whole, but my focus was on Harry. As much as my anxiety and tiredness was getting worse, it couldn't compare to the ache in my chest when he takes a hesitant step towards her direction. In a second, my hand flies towards his and gently tugs to me in a last ditch of desperation while I softly call out his name. Maybe it was the way he stopped and turned his head slightly before completely pulling away and walking towards her, leaving me engulfed with the crowd alone. Or that I could picture the loving look on his face when she finally sees him approaching and gives him a welcoming smile while the sound of people counting down from 20 is muddled into the background. All I could imagine to hear was his small 'hi' and compliment for how beautiful she looks, knowing how nervous he would be. "3, 2, 1! Happy New Years!" The celebration of those around me drowned out my glossy eyes as I see Heather take Harry's hand in hers, sharing that same complete adoration look on her face that I was only just becoming familiar with.

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part 2 A/N: feedback would greatly be appreciated :)

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #heather #i really listened to this song on loop for 2 hours going through it

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lacharcutiere · 3 years

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falling so soft [sawamura daichi]

1k words

previous | masterlist | next ➪

part two of i’m gone i’m gone i’m gone miniseries. time zones suck. being too busy to facetime sucks. not getting to have him as your new years kiss sucks. distractions… actually, those might be okay. but that’s to be determined.

^ if u got the ronny cheng reference lol i love u 👽 anyway, i did not plan that last bit out but,, THE PLOT THICKENS hehehe:)) also oops for having this up 2 hours late lol i totally forgot to queue it

JST: japanese standard time (GMT +9). EST: eastern standard time (GMT -5). EDT: eastern daylight time (GMT -4). man i hate daylight savings time why do we have to switch between the two, hopefully no one notices if i fucked up the math but if u do pls just ignore it <3

tings // fluff, lil bit of soft angst // i swear this søng is abøut eating øut my best friend’s pussy - cøzybøy // dm, ask or comment to be added to the taglist ! minors dni.

☾𓆙𓂻

— MOVE-IN DAY: 29 AUGUST 2021. 08:14 EDT.

your roommate is a talkative, ever-energetic, pretty half-russian girl named alya. she's from new jersey, you learn, just across the river. the two of you are a good match in energy, and she's easy to talk to. you'd chatted a couple times before over instagram, and the tiny bit of japanese she knew combined with your functional knowledge of english has made for conversations that flow easily from subject to subject.

you tell her about daichi, show her pictures of the two of you together from graduation, the summer—whatever you can find. she immediately loves the two of you together, excitement seeming ready to bubble over at how cute you must be, and you need to remind her over and over that you're just friends with him for now.

— 16 NOVEMBER, 2021. 10:23 EST.

according to the new york natives, this year's first snowfall is early. usually, alya tells you, it doesn't snow before thanksgiving.

— CHRISTMAS CARDS, DECEMBER 2021

from daichi (written 16th december, received 22nd december. opened on christmas day, 00:03 eastern standard time.)

from you (written 12th december, received 18th december. opened as soon as it arrived, 17:14 japan standard time.)

— 18TH DECEMBER, 2021. 23:03 JST, 09:03 EST.

you wake up to your phone buzzing on your bedside table, rubbing your face groggily as you fumble for it and see who it is.

“of course you’re still my favorite,” is the first thing he says as soon as you accept the call. and then, “oh shit, did i wake you up? i’m so sorry—“

you cut him off with a sleepy laugh, assuring him that no, it’s okay, for him you don’t mind.

"d'you get the card yet?" he sounds so excited, almost childlike; it's adorable, and you can't help but laugh some more.

"i did," you say, "but i'm saving it. i'm gonna open it on christmas."

he snorts. "i say open it now. i opened yours as soon as i saw it."

"yeah, but i'm talking to you now, i wanna save it so i have new things to hear from you even if you can't call."

"who says i won't call?"

"no one, but just in case."

— CHRISTMAS DAY 2021. 00:12 EST, 14:12 JST.

daichi's about to second guess calling you when he remembers you never go to bed early if you can help it, and especially not while you're off school. and, speak of the devil, his phone rings right then.

"hey." it's dim in your room, but he can hear the smile in your voice and that's all he needs.

"hey."

"i opened your card."

"did you, now?"

"mhm." you must be in bed; he can hear you nuzzling down into a downy comforter and yawning. it's adorable. "i miss you."

"i miss you, too."

there's silence on your end of the line for a while, save for breathing and blankets shifting around, and daichi takes it as his cue. "get some sleep," he tells you, "i can call you again tomorrow."

he hears you sigh—such a pretty sound—and then you speak again, barely above a whisper. "daichi?"

"hm?"

"can you just... stay on for a bit? just, like, until i'm asleep?"

and he laughs a little, but (unbeknownst to you, passed out within the next few minutes) he doesn't hang up for another hour.

— NEW YEAR’S EVE 2022. 23:58 JST, 09:58 EST.

he calls you just in time for the beginning of the new year (at least, where he is). it’s funny, you point out, how for thirteen hours you’ll be living in two different years. time zones are a bitch.

— 23:55 EST, 13:55 JST.

“welcome to 2022,” he says with a laugh when he picks up the phone. “‘s been pretty uneventful so far.”

— 16 FEBRUARY 2022. 09:55 EST.

a guy in your calc class comes up to you after a lecture and asks you if you’re single.

he’s not unattractive, and he’s smart. you’ve chatted a couple times and he’s always been easy to talk to. he’s funny, and he’s an international student from japan, too. you don’t know what to say at first; you wonder what daichi would want you to say. but you remember, you’re just friends for now.

you tell tōru yes.

— 11:03 EST, 01:03 JST.

feeling unbelievably guilty as you wait for your phone to ring while sitting on a bench outside the dining hall, you wonder what you're even supposed to tell him. that there's someone else? that you want to try seeing other people? how can you soften the blow without sounding like you're trying to make excuses for yourself? and it's not like your heart isn't still set on him and him only, but how can you possibly convince daichi of that?

so you're incredibly surprised to find out that daichi almost... doesn't mind. you don't miss the way his voice tenses up a little after you tell him, but you know that whatever he says, he's always honest with you. he even almost laughs at you for how stressed you seem.

"friends, remember? 's okay. it doesn't mean you can't see other people, just that we can tell each other whatever. and that i'll support you."

"you're not jealous?"

he pauses for a second, thinking, before saying, "i mean, honestly? i am, i guess." he stops again and you don't say anything, almost afraid. "but whatever we are, if you're happy, then it's okay. and tōru's a good guy." he huffs a short laugh. "if he were a shitty person, that'd be a very different story."

that's another surprise to you; apparently he and tōru were at least somewhat acquainted with one another. volleyball, daichi tells you.

small world.

☾𓆙𓂻

when you finally end the call, realizing how late it is in japan and that he must be needing to go to bed, you can't tell whether you feel less guilty knowing that he doesn't think you're in the wrong, or more guilty knowing that he's willing to sacrifice his wants for yours.

taglist: @sakruisin-thru @softetsurou @oligbia

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu series #sawamura daichi #daichi x reader angst #daichi x reader fluff #daichi sawamura #daichi x reader #i’m gone i’m gone i’m gone #OH SHIT????#THE PLOT THICKENS >:))))#ignore this tag but #t*ru o**k*a

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toru-oikawas-milkbread · 3 years

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I should be asleep since it's like two my time and I have somewhere to be tomorrow but it's been awhile since I stayed up past new years and I also really just wanted to tell you Happy new years kasey i hope you have a wonderful 2022!

~pink anon

Happy New Years to you and others in different time zones!!! I hope everybody is having a great first day of the new year and those in my time zone are having a good New Year’s Eve!! Stay safe, those of you who are going to be out, make sure you drink lots of water!

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lokigayforhela · 4 years

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ooo i have a couple for the halloween drabbles: 1. maybe hela isn't familiar with halloween and reader has to explain it and trick or treaters knock on the door and Hela is confused but its ~cute~ 2. sexy costumes nsfw lmao

thank you! I wanted to keep these as two separate little fics, so I’ll write and upload the costume one later. I might combine it with one of my other prompts, too, possibly, if it works? We’ll see. But I hope you enjoy this one~

Fall was your favorite season. The crisp air, the brightly-colored leaves, the Halloween decorations. Everything came together so perfectly, and as soon as the calendar hit September first, every year, without fail, you dragged out your large storage box of Halloween decorations and set about putting them all up.

It was with a handful of fake cobwebs and an adornment of several completely different Halloween accessories on various body parts that you greeted Hela as she came in from having lunch with her brothers, and you could tell from her expression that she was both lost and a little concerned.

“Hey... How was lunch?“

Hela only blinked one in confusion, and your attempt at nonchalance was immediately dashed. “...what are you doing? And what is all this?” She gestured to a few of the decorations you’d already put up, including, but not limited to, a garland of ghosts, a bat hanging from the ceiling fan, and more pumpkins than you could count on both hands scattered around the room.

“...it’s Halloween.“

“Come again?“

It was moments like these that reminded you that Hela, having been raised on Asgard, had absolutely no idea about most Midgardian traditions, and you realized you’d have a lot of explaining to do with this one.

“...come help me with these webs and I’ll explain.“

Hela still looked extremely confused, but she obediently set down her bag and crossed over to you, mimicking your motions as you pulled the web apart to stretch it out for Optimal coverage.

“Halloween is a holiday that we have here on Midgard. It dates back to thousands of years ago. The Celtics believed that on All Hallows’ Eve, the line between the living and the dead blurred, and so they would wear costumes on that night, to sort of... fit in with the ghosts so they wouldn’t be scared, I think? Something like that. It’s been a while since I read up on my Halloween history, but you get the general gist of it, and regardless, the traditions have changed over time.“

Hela nodded slowly. “And... what does any of that have to do with... this?” She held up some of the web, and you laughed softly.

“Well, some people like to decorate for Halloween. There’s all sorts of things you can do. You can put up plastic or fake decorations like these, people carve pumpkins, they dress up and host Halloween parties with bobbing for apples and alcohol, which is not a good mix, if you ask me. Some people like Halloween so much that they make it their lifestyle, kinda. Remember how I explained to you what Goths were when people asked if you were one?“

Hela nodded, and you smiled a little.

“Kinda like that.“

Hela said nothing as you gestured for her to move over to the bedroom so you could tuck the cobwebs around the corners to cover the front of it. “...so you’re one of those people that likes Halloween a lot then?”

You laughed softly. “I suppose I am, yes. I don’t keep all of my decorations up year-round, but... now that we have this nice place all to ourselves, I might keep some of it up. If you’d like that, I mean.”

Hela smiled gently, an expression reserved solely for you. “”If it makes you happy, then that makes me happy.”

You couldn’t not kiss her when she was being so sweet, and when you drew back, you smiled. “Come on. I’ll show you what else I have.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of the next two months, you fully embraced the Halloween spirit, both because it was Your Season, and also so that Hela could experience everything that made Halloween Halloween. You took her to corn mazes, and to haunted houses, and let her try apple cider and pumpkin spice lattes, and Hela enjoyed every moment of it.

But it wasn’t until Halloween night, when you were both dressed in your costumes, you as a witch and Hela as a cat, because it was the Most you could get her to dress up, and even then, she’d seemed to only do it please you, when you heard the doorbell ring and headed for the door with a bucket of candy that you realized you hadn’t explained everything as Hela looked at you quizzically.

“...what are you doing?“ she asked, watching from down the hall as you opened the door and greeted a group of trick-or-treaters, all dressed up and cheerfully holding out their bags.

You waited until they had left before you turned to Hela. “...this is called trick-or-treating. I can’t believe I forgot to explain trick-or-treating, the practical hallmark of Halloween.”

Hela quirked an eyebrow, and you huffed out a laugh. “Ah... So on Halloween night, children dress up, like we are, and they go from door to door to get candy.” You tossed Hela a little Snickers from the bowl of candy. “...do you want to do the next one?”

“...I don’t know...“ Hela wasn’t usually one to be uncertain, but you’d noticed it happened most often when it came to something new, and you always encouraged Hela to step out of her comfort zone, even when it came to the most mundane of practices.

“It’s really easy. We’ll set up a couple of chairs outside the door and take turns. I’ll go first, so you can see what to do, okay?“ You reached for her hand and kissed it gently as she nodded.

“....alright.“

It didn’t take long for the next round of trick-or-treaters to come around, and you smiled softly at Hela as they approached and you offered them their candy after they greeted you. You passed the bowl to Hela in preparation for the next group, and encouraged her softly when they came up to her, smiling when Hela seemed to relax, as well when she realized how nice the children were.

“See? Not so bad.“

“...not so bad.“

For hours, the two of you sat out on your doorstep and handed out candy, complimenting costumes and waving at babies as different families came and went, and by the time you got ready to head inside for the night, you couldn’t help but notice the smile on Hela’s face.

“...fun, right?“ You smiled as you locked the door behind yourself, watching as Hela sat the chairs back at the dining room table.

“...lots of fun. Can we do it again?“

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “We get to do this every year.”

Hela smiled impossibly more, and you felt your heart absolutely melt at the sight. “I can’t wait.”

#Hela x reader #Hela Odinsdottir x reader #Hela #Hela Odinsdottir #marvel #oneshot #mine #fluffy #spoopy #its spoopy szn

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livesincerely · 4 years

Text

it’s beginning to look a lot like... ch.3

Also on Ao3. Chapter two here.

00000

The Sixth Christmas

Jack nudges the door shut with his shoulder, stopping to stomp his boots against the mat in the entryway before making his way into the kitchen.

His boys have been plenty busy in the half hour he’s been gone: Davey, Tony, and Charlie are gathered around the kitchen table in what has clearly become the designated Latke Zone. Charlie is sitting on top of the table, grating the last of the peeled potatoes, his brow furrowed in careful concentration, and Davey’s talking Tony through dicing an onion, instructing, “—and you keep your knuckles curled under like this, see, so you don’t cut your fingers.”

The scene is underscored by the soft hum of Christmas carols playing on the radio and the flurry of snow visible through the window. Jack lingers in the doorway for a moment, a smile spreading across his face of its own accord as he takes it all in, fingers itching for a pen and paper.

He shakes the daydream away.

“Delivery,” Jack announces, setting the grocery bags on the counter top.

“Hey, Jack,” Davey greets, then has to catch Tony’s wrist in his hand when he starts to wave while holding his knife. “Careful, Tones.”

“Sorry,” Tony says sheepishly. “Hi, Jack.”

“How’s it goin’?”

“Pretty good so far,” Davey says letting Tony get back to his task. “I think we’ve almost got everything ready. Did you have any trouble finding the schmaltz?”

“I think I got whatcha wanted,” Jack says, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. Davey had given him the name and address of the kosher butcher he’d needed to go to and told him exactly what to ask for, and yet he’s still worried he’s messed it up somehow. “But I can run back out if it ain’t right.”

Davey peeks into the grocery bags, unearths the container, and gives an approving nod.

“Perfect,” he says. “Thanks Jackie.”

It’s a little embarrassing how quickly those simple words make the flutter in Jack’s chest steady and settle.

“Yeah, no problem,” he answers.

“Davey, is this enough potato?” Charlie pipes up, shaking a cramp out of his hand, gesturing at the mound of potato piled in front of him.

Davey moves over, staring down at the mass with a critical eye.

“Yeah, that should be plenty,” he says, scooping the potatoes up and dumping them out onto a dishtowel.

“I think this is done too,” Tony says, carefully scraping the bits of onion that have stuck to his knife off onto the cutting board.

“Looks good,” Davey says. He sweeps a few stray potato pieces off of Charlie’s shirt and into the trash can that’s been positioned next to the table, leans down to press a quick kiss to the top of his head, then goes back over to Tony and gives him the same treatment. “Great work, boys.”

“Do you need anythin’ else?” Tony asks, glowing faintly at the praise.

“I think I’ve got it from here,” Davey says, ruffling his hair. “But thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome,” Charlie chirps with a wide smile, hopping down from the table.

“Welcome,” Tony echoes. “Can we watch TV now?”

“Wash your hands,” Davey reminds them, spreading the onions out onto the same dishcloth with the potatoes, folding the mixture up in the towel and patting the moisture out. “But go ahead.”

As the boys skip away, Jack steps into the bit of clear space at Davey’s side.

“Anythin’ else need doin’?” he asks.

“Can you grab the eggs for me?” Davey replies. “And the flour and the baking powder?”

“Got it.”

Davey gets the batter mixed together, seasoning it all with a good helping of salt and pepper, then carries the bowl into the kitchen, the container of schmaltz tucked under his arm. He sets a cast iron skillet on the stove and turns on the eye, scoops out a hardy spoonful of fat and lets it melt, then pours some oil over top.

“It’s good of you to do all’a this,” Jack says, as Davey drops the latke batter into the pan with a sizzling hiss.

“It would’ve been good of me to remember to ask Mama if I could borrow some of her schmaltz before we left last night,” Davey says with a scoff, prodding at the batter with his spatula, flattening the drops out into little disks. “Then I wouldn’t’ve had to send you out to the store in this godforsaken weather.”

“Nah, I don’t mind,” Jack says, shaking his head. “I mean, you’re the one that’s doing the hard part. And when you didn’t have’ta.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Davey says, adjusting the temperature of the eye. “I just hope they turn out alright. Mama has this way of getting them perfectly crispy on the outside while keeping the insides soft⁠—I haven’t quite mastered it. But hopefully the boys won’t mind.”

“They’ll like them because you’re the one making ‘em,” Jack says, trying a different tactic. “Because you’re making ‘em special, just for them.”

“Well, they asked me to,” Davey says simply, still not getting it. “It’s not like I mind.”

“But you’re still goin’ outta your way,” Jack counters. “I mean, they gorged themselves on the things last night, practically ate your folks outta house and home, then woke up this mornin’ beggin’ for more, and even though we didn’t have the ingredients for ‘em, plus the fact that Hanukkah ended yesterday and half the city’s closed for Christmas, you still made it happen. I’m jus’ sayin’, it’s a nice thing to do.”

“Jackie, it’s just latkes,” Davey says, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t need to thank me, or whatever it is you’re trying to do⁠—”

“But I do need to thank you,” Jack insists, frustrated with his inability to get his point across. “I do ‘cause it’s… because I…”

He doesn’t know how to explain, doesn’t have the words to encapsulate how nice this all is, how different, yet familiar, and impossibly better this holiday season has been than all the others: how great it was to have someone to help him with holiday shopping, how much he loved getting to hang strings of blue and white lights across their balcony and put their first Christmas tree up in the living room, how every time he sees Davey’s menorah sitting on the coffee table with his and the boys’ stockings hanging on the wall behind the couch, he can’t help but smile, how strange and exciting it was to get roped into⁠ the Jacobs’ Hanukkah traditions—not asked, not invited, but folded right in, like it was never a question at all⁠ that he and the boys would be a part of it all—how he’d nearly cried last night, watching Les walk Tony and Charlie through their first game of dreidel, because he’s just been so desperately happy that he feels like he might burst with it.

And right at the center of it all is Davey: the best friend and co-parent and partner that Jack could’ve ever wanted or asked for. He’s so thankful, every single goddamn day of his life, to have Davey at his side.

Jack wants to tell him, wants him to know how deeply appreciated he is, but he can’t figure out how to phrase it. There just aren’t words to encompass the depth of this feeling.

How could there be?

But Davey looks at him and seems to read the heart of the matter right off of Jack’s face. His expression softens, his eyes warm with tender affection, and he curls his free hand around Jack’s forearm and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s okay, Jack,” he says with a soft smile. “Really. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Jack says hesitantly. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Davey promises. “You and Tony and Charlie? You’re family. You don’t need to thank me.”

Jack swallows heavily, throat thick with sudden emotion. “Alright,” he whispers.

Blinking through the sting in his eyes, he continues, “Uh... speakin’ of family, are we still goin’ back up to your folks’ place for New Year’s?”

Davey watches him a second longer, a hint of concern in his gaze, but he lets Jack change the subject without comment because he’s good like that.

“That’s what Mama said when she called this morning,” Davey answers, sliding the first set of latkes out of the pan and onto a wire rack to drain. “Though, she mentioned that if the weather ends up being bad, then she’d understand if we decided to stay in.”

“Are we supposed to be getting a lot more snow?” Jack asks, confused.

“Like, two inches, maybe, the night before,” Davey says. “I tried to tell her that, even if it does snow, the roads and sidewalks would be clear by New Year’s Eve, but you know how she is.”

“Well, we’ll see how it goes,” Jack says, fingers creeping casually towards the fresh stake of latkes as Davey gets the next set frying.

Davey slaps his hand away without a hint of mercy. “Don’t even try it, Kelly.”

“Aw, Dave,” Jack whines. “Where’s your holiday spirit?’

“Holiday spirit isn’t gonna keep you from burning the shit out of your mouth,” Davey says. “There should still be some gelt in the cabinet above the fridge if you want something to snack on while these finish.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Jack says.

He finds the bag of chocolate coins and immediately unwraps three of them and crams them into his mouth.

“Do we need to bring anything?” Jack asks. “That’s like, the thing to do, it’nit?”

“We could bring a small something,” Davey says, working his spatula under a latke and flipping it. “Mama will have the mains covered, but we could bring cookies or chips? Maybe a liter of soda? I’ll ask her when she calls next.”

“Or, we could make somethin’ too, couldn’t we?” Jack says.

“Do you want to make something?” Davey asks, stealing a piece of gelt from Jack’s pile, tearing away the foil, and placing it right on the center of his tongue with a teasing smirk. Jack’s stomach jolts and jitters. “We can if you want to.”

“I could make a pan of cheesecake brownies,” Jack suggests, opening up another piece and offering it to him, watching the way Davey’s lips close delicately around the chocolate coin. “The ones I made when we first moved in? Do you think they’d like ‘em?”

“Those were fucking fantastic,” Davey says. “If they don’t like them, I’m perfectly fine eating them all myself.” He pauses, head tilting to the side. “You should make extras, so we can keep some here.”

Jack laughs. “Okay, remind me to get extra butter when we go to the store next and I’ll handle it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Davey agrees, turning to Jack with a smile⁠—a gorgeous little thing that lights up his whole face⁠—and as he does, Jack notices a dark smudge on the side of his mouth.

“Oh, wait, you’ve got a bit of chocolate...” Jack says, reaching up without thinking about it, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until after he’s already dragged his thumb across the corner of Davey’s mouth, stopping to rest right on the fullest part of his lower lip, his forefinger curled under Davey’s chin.

Davey looks back at him, his expression slack with surprise and his cheeks a bit pink. He’s probably wondering what the hell Jack is doing. Jack’s wondering much the same.

“There,” Jack rasps out, finally connecting the broken fuse in his brain that’s responsible for all his terrible, terrible decisions and dropping his hand from Davey’s face. “That’s better.”

What Jack should do next his wipe his hands clean or give ‘em a quick rinse in the sink or, hell, take a cleaver and chop ‘em off at the wrist⁠—anything except for what he does next, which is his stick his thumb in his mouth and swirl his tongue around it, licking it clean.

Davey’s eyes go a touch wider, his face flushing that much deeper. He clears his throat a few times, looking distinctly flustered⁠; Jack can’t even imagine what he’s thinking⁠—he’s probably embarrassed on Jack’s behalf.

“Thanks,” Davey eventually gets out.

“No problem,” Jack breathes back.

“Uh…” says Tony.

Jack stumbles back a step, his and Davey’s heads whipping around to look: Tony’s standing just behind them, eyes darting back and forth between him and Davey. He holds up the glass in his hand, which is almost empty.

“I need some more juice?” Tony says, but his voice lilts up at the end in question.

“Sure,” Jack says, running a hand through his hair. The back of his neck feels hot, his heart pounding against his ribcage. “Yeah, sure, bud.”

“So, can I get into the fridge?” Tony asks.

“Go ahead,” Jack says.

Tony looks at him like he’s a complete moron. “Jack, you’re blocking the fridge.”

“Right,” Jack says, moving to the side. He accidentally bumps into Davey and his hands dart out instinctively to steady him, but he rethinks the impulse mid-motion, diverting at the last second and stuffing his hands in his pockets instead. “Sorry! Sorry, I’ll just⁠—” He backs up the other way and knocks into Tony. “Sorry! I can⁠— I’ll go⁠— I’ll just stand over here.”

“Idiota,” Tony mutters under his breath as he passes.

“Cállate, Tonio,” Jack hisses back.

“The latkes are done,” Davey announces, mercifully oblivious to the exchange. His face is still distinctly pink. “Someone get Charlie.”

“I’ll go,” Jack offers immediately, latching onto the excuse. He needs a second away from Davey and his stupidly pretty eyes. “Dish me up a plate?”

“Do you want applesauce?” Davey asks.

Jack pauses, frowning. “Do we got any sour cream?”

“You absolute heathen,” Davey says mildly, and he’s starting to sound a bit more like himself, his voice dropping back into its usual register instead of the panicked squeak from before. “Les got to you, didn’t he?”

“Sour cream, cielito,” Jack says, the pet name slipping out without him meaning it to. Tony hits him with a look that’s twice as judgmental as the previous one. “Pretty please?”

“Fine,” Davey grumbles lightly. “I guess if I have to.”

“You’re the light of my life, Dave,” Jack says.

Tony sighs, loudly. Jack’s ears burn.

“Be right back,” he mutters, then he turns on his heel and flees before he can embarrass himself any further.

Jesus Christ.

00000

Chapter four here.

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*the writing desk #*editor's note #*final cut #the domestic au #i know it's not christmas but i hope you still enjoy!#😊😊😊

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Six

Ao3, Masterpost, C.1 C.2 C.3 C.4 C.5

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality. platonic dukeceit, creativitwins, and dlampr.

Yet again there are no italics. its new years eve sue me. oh also happy 2021 nobody question my priorities thanks <3

Warnings: so much softness, implications of self-isolation, swearing, Lots of Feelings, sympathetic everybody, descriptions of the sides having non-human features.

Word Count: 3,962

Something Remus came to realize was that he, a bit paradoxically, was not used to people being in his space.

It was weird. Not weird in the way that people usually felt when he was the one interrupting- he wasn’t scared by it, or disgusted, or even really annoyed. It was just… surprising, to have somebody else hanging around him, unprompted by anything.

Remus wasn’t known for having boundaries- or respecting them, for that matter- but he’d at least been attempting to restrain himself just a bit after being accepted by the others. Out of courtesy, if nothing else.

And apparently he didn’t need to. Not after what happened with Patton, anyway. Now that Patton had deemed the two of them ‘close’- something he was absolutely happy to agree with, for the record- Remus’ world had flipped sort of around. Back to no boundaries, only he wasn’t the one crossing those lines, and nobody was running screaming. Least of all Patton!

Remus ran the thoughts over in his head, feeling like that day was shaping up to be a great example of the change:

He and Patton were sitting side-by-side in the living room, content, with the rest of the sides spread around in different seats and configurations just the same. The unlikely pair were at the fringe of the circle, close enough to be part of things but far enough to zone in and out at will (as both were prone to do). It was nice, amiable.

But minutes before- forty of them at most- Remus had been up in his own room, happily dissecting some gooish creations and only vaguely aware that there was a meeting that day. His attendance to group meetings varied from week to week- sometimes he was bored and could use an argument, and other times he was having fun on his own and knew that it wouldn’t be all that important if he ditched. He joined more often than he used to, sometimes he was even asked for, but he was optional still. A favored option, suggestions taken now, sure- but still not mandatory.

He was going to stay upstairs for that one, but Patton had come to get him. Had dragged him down in that sweet, puppy-dog way of convincing that worked so well and, knowing him, was totally unintentional. And even if Remus didn’t care about arguing his way through content production right then, Patton had promised that it was important for him to be there.

That was the word he’d used for Remus. Important.

How the hell could Remus say no to that?

At least the meeting was going by without a hitch, for once. He assumed it was- Remus was honestly paying very little attention- but the lack of anger or tension was practically palpable. These things were usually so spiteful that even Remus, renowned lover of chaos, could almost taste his headache when everybody started shouting and hissing and fighting. It just got sad.

But not that time, apparently.

As Logan went on his third ramble of the evening, smiling widely at a surprising lack of interruption, Remus turned to Patton. He whispered:

“Okay, when are they gonna snap? Did they all finally get lobotomized?”

Patton frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean where’s all the screaming and crying? Specs and Prince Priss haven’t had a single one of their horny yelling matches, what gives?”

Patton smiled in a way that said he was trying very hard not to laugh, rolling his eyes.

“These meetings have calmed down a bit, I guess,” he shrugged.

Remus glanced around the room with narrowed eyes. While that certainly seemed like the truth, he couldn’t buy it.

“Yeah, I give it until one of them vaguely insults the others, and then everybody’s gonna shut down for the next week. That kinda tension doesn’t just go.”

Patton didn’t say anything. Half-gazing at the carpet, he didn’t look like he’d even heard. He was smiling, but it was one of those jumbled up expressions, the type that tried to span a hundred different feelings. He had so many expressions like that, that seemed bottomless and swirling and so intricate on a humanoid face that, in reality, wasn’t built to display something like that. It was uncanny- not like an eerie doll, but like something with unearthly beauty. This face, though, had tones of upset.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been around everybody,” Patton said.

It wasn’t a question and it didn’t need to be. While Remus wasn’t exactly known for keeping to himself, he couldn't be called sociable either. He dropped in to say something, usually random, and then he was gone as soon as he’d visited. Even before the first Patton incident, fuck, it had been weeks since he’d actually stuck around through something.

Since The Acceptance, now that Remus thought of it, he’d been spending more time alone than ever. Not all of his time- he remembered being surprised at Logan talking to him, willingly, like friends, and after that had even come Virgil and Roman. He saw people, talked to them, yeah. The time spent was friendlier, more welcoming, but it was so much less.

Well, it was obvious why: they visited him, but- like he’d mentioned, he’d been trying to give them some space.

“Sure, it's been awhile,” Remus admitted, “But I never expected shit to change so much around here, still.”

The haze on Patton’s face thickened like fog on the moors, a soft and sympathetic mist over his eyes that Remus knew was aimed at him (even if it was pointed more to a sort of middle distance).

“I don’t think I did, either,” Patton’s mouth barely moved, his voice less of a whisper and moreso a fragile breath. “I was hoping for it, but… I’m still trying to get used to stuff being allowed to change, you know?” He picked at a loose thread along the seam of the couch. “I haven’t done this stuff in a while, either.”

Remus’ head shot up, and he almost forgot that they weren’t the only two in the room. Somehow, he stopped himself from shouting:

“You- it has?”

A tiny smile. Something built up behind Patton’s eyes; a wave, dark and lonely and filling his bright blues with cloudy gray. “I just needed some alone time, after everything changed so much so fast. I still feel, I dunno, weird. I don’t know what’s wrong with me- but…” he swallowed, his head lifting. “I’m really happy for them,” he was staring- so very loving- first at Logan, then Roman, then Virgil and Janus. It was a wonder none of them felt his gaze on them, Remus thought, because he was sure if anyone looked at him that way, he’d burn up like a fae upon iron. “They deserve it so much. I know that not everything is perfect still, but, I’m just so proud of us anyways. I- I think maybe-”

He cut himself off, blinking rapidly. Remus gave the room a quick once over to make sure nobody was looking their way- and nobody was: Virgil was very resolutely trying to get everyone to stay on topic despite Janus and Logan’s continued tangenting, and Roman was scribing furiously on several different pieces of paper- before he inched close enough to curve his arm around Patton. Touching like that had steadily become familiar to both of them, and it didn’t take long for Patton to fall untense against his side. He leaned into him, muttering: “I mean, they’re all doing a lot better than me, that’s for sure. I- I don’t even know what I’m for anymore. Maybe that’s why I’ve been… ditching, really.”

Remus squeezed his shoulder. There were so many things he could’ve said and done, but all of them loud and fervent and definitely not subtle enough to go unnoticed by everyone. So, for the sake of Patton’s privacy, he settled on this:

“That makes two of us, Morey.”

The meeting that was planned to take two or three hours took the entire day, just as always. Hours and hours were spent in a room filled with excited conversation, of which the subject oscillated wildly between relevant topics and complete nonsense- which Remus and Patton did, eventually, tune back into (and contribute to as well, mainly in the nonsense department). Eventually, even Virgil gave up on trying to keep anything in order.

But the meeting ended on a good note anyway. Lots of good notes, actually, if the stacks upon stacks of paper they’d scribbled up were any indication. Mess, the sides had come to believe, was usually a measure of their productivity: if crumpled pages were strayed across the room, if forgotten pens and pencils balanced on every surface from coffee table to TV stand, and if- in the process of snacking- they’d accumulated enough dishes to fill the sink for days on end? Shit. Got. Done.

Remus stared over the chaos with unfocused eyes. He felt distantly proud of the stormish state the living room was in. Draped over the back of the sectional, he gnawed idly on a wood pencil, stripping its yellow into beige. The paint fell off in bitter chunks, and the taste made him think of grabbing some non-acrylic dinner before closing the night off. Maybe he’d steal some of whatever saccharine sweet Patton usually made in the late evenings, and then spend the rest of the night with him, anyway. Remus debated what would be the most fun (or if he was tired enough to sleep yet), partially aware as he did so that he’d chewed and swallowed the metal-eraser end of his pencil.

“Ugh,” a drawn out groan broke his thoughts, petulant and whiny. “Do you have any intention of helping us clean up this, the common area?”

Roman was kneeling beside Janus on the carpet, the pair surrounded by papers and binders and trashbags, the former of which they were sorting into either of the latter two, depending on how useful each page was. Roman had stopped working, however, to stare up at Remus indignantly. Remus glared right back.

“I’ve never had an intention in my life,” he answered.

Janus shrugged, smiling in that I-told-you-so way at Roman. But Roman, ever the nuisance, wasn’t letting it go.

“Come on! It’s not like you’re even doing anything!”

“I’m doing something,” Remus’ words were wide and wobbly as he stripped another line of paint off the pencil, breaking some splinters off into his teeth.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” another chunk of wood, down the hatch. “I’m flaying all these leftover pencils until they’re lead-sticks.”

Roman hopped up from the floor and dropped himself onto the couch, shoving himself into the way so jarringly that it reminded Remus of himself.

“Well, now you’re going to help us clean.”

Janus rolled his eyes, not even glancing up. “Roman, just leave it alone, we-”

“We are all parts of this whole now, including him! Remus-” Roman rounded on him again, “If you’re going to come down here and help us make all this mess, with all of your numerous contributions that we have to write down, you’ll help clean it like anybody else. Do you think that I like any of- of-” he gestured, flamboyantly, at the room, “This? Ugh, please, I’m a prince! But, fair is fair, and fair means everybody.”

And that was the point of the conversation in which Remus would cackle, push Roman backwards off the couch, and proclaim how much it’d go against his very being to clean a mess instead of cause it. He’d tell Roman how funny it was that he thought he could boss him around, because it always had been- that full-of-it Older Brother kind of attitude that had never worked. The Prince had never once managed to get him to do anything, and each attempt only got funnier than the last.

He didn’t say any of that, though.

Roman was bitching at him, not to go away this time, but to stay. Stay and help the group, because he was a part of said group. So he was asked to help them, the group that he was a part of, because he was part of it. That group.

“Okay,” he blurted, “Okay, I’ll- alright.”

Roman blinked at him, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “You- oh!” he smiled, utterly baffled. “That was- very easy?”

Janus, too, was looking up at Remus with bewilderment, his task of paper-sorting all but forgotten. Remus couldn’t blame either of them, but he still huffed, trying very hard not to be embarrassed by that whole… moment.

He shook it off, rolling off the couch and standing up, jittery.

“Whatever, just- tell me what to pick up, okay?”

They seemed not to hear him, the gawking continuing on until he started working unprompted, and longer than that still. Each time he (begrudgingly) shoved something into a trashbag, it earned him another Exchange of Glances from the pair.

They got over it eventually, though, because there was a fuck-load more to clean than there was room to stare. So they cleaned.

Remus thought it would get old after a minute, and he’d finally gather up the guts to bail on them, but it just… never happened. It felt unnatural to be getting rid of a mess- like an animal having its fur brushed the wrong way, continuously- but by some point the sensation was distant. The rest of him was still busy processing, experiencing, maybe possibly overthinking this kind of recognition he’d never gotten before. It was handed to him now like it was something normal. The three of them worked together, and it was normal.

Acceptance, as it turned out, wasn’t synonymous with ‘soulless assimilation’. In fact, it was pretty fucking great, getting to watch his brother and best friend find documents from the floor with his ideas on them, then tucking them into a binder marked important, instead of a trashcan marked to burn. It was… surreal.

But the tidying was over in just an hour and a half- oh wow, never in a million years would Remus have thought an hour and a half of cleaning would be too little for him. He made a note to absolutely destroy something big and important later, to balance the universe out again.

Roman sank through the floor as soon as they were done, complaining loudly about how very exhausted he was. Remus teased him on his way out, but it was just for the habit- he was way too mushy to think of anything properly mean at the moment.

Janus watched him go, silent. He sat beside Remus on the couch, and despite his obvious tiredness, he waited a good few minutes before saying anything.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Remus shivered. Janus pulled him up into a hug (one that maybe dragged on for a little too long, but who was counting?), and it spelled out all the pride and care that he’d never been good at verbalizing. With that, he gave Remus a short nod, and then was gone as well.

Which made everyone else upstairs, probably in their rooms and halfway asleep. Then there was Remus, antsy in the living room, itchy with feelings.

Everyone but Patton, of course, who could still be heard humming in the kitchen; who never went up until he knew everyone else was in their rooms, true to the protective parent persona. Remus suddenly didn’t think he wanted anything else but to see Patton after what had happened, to talk to him, to…

He walked to the kitchen.

“Pat.”

Patton looked over his shoulder at Remus, up to his elbow in sudsy sink water. A smile fell naturally across his face.

“Hi,” his voice was low, delicate. “You about to head up?”

Remus watched his friend work, trailing into the room slowly. He grinned, “Are you kidding? I could stay up all night, if I wanted.”

“Do you want to?” Patton asked him.

Remus thought on it for a moment. He shrugged, iunno, leaned against the counter by the sink. Patton turned away again.

It was so quiet. No wind. No footsteps. Not a muffled voice upstairs, even- just the sound of water and ceramic hitting ceramic. Everything was still.

Remus hated it. Silence was fragile, and he crawled with the need to break it. He felt it get tense as it stretched out, and he just wanted to tear the air apart with sound. It felt like nothing mattered anymore, when peace was so easily able to drown it all out. Cold and alone. He hated it.

Sometimes, Remus imagined that if the silence went too long, he’d never be able to make a noise again. There were few things that made him so unhappy, but the quiet…

“What’s on your mind?” Patton asked.

Remus jolted. Patton was staring, concern gathering in his eyes the longer he did. Remus took a deep breath- he remembered something, something small and unimportant that Janus had told him once.

When one is so intensely happy, they can fall to agonizing upset even quicker than if they’d been mildly perturbed in the first place, because of the ferocity of the feelings. Something like that.

“A lot more than I’m willing to throw on your shoulders, Pops.”

Patton pouted. Actually. Fucken. Pouted. The worst part was, his puppy-face was actually working.

“Ugh,” Remus rolled his eyes, “Just- could I- I dunno, have a hug, or some shit?”

If Patton was surprised, he hid it well. God knew, that wasn’t exactly the kind of thing Remus would ask for. He almost never asked to get attention- taking it was much easier, and much more entertaining. Besides, if he’d ever asked before that point… well, he already knew what answer he would’ve gotten.

Patton’s smile only widened, until it was positively melting. “Of course you can,” he shut the sink off. “Of course.”

He reached haphazardly for a hand towel, to dry his arms. Remus, riding the high of that enthusiastic permission, absolutely could not wait that long. He latched his arms around Patton’s middle before the side had even finished talking, burying his face between his shoulder blades and hugging tight.

Patton went still, like he didn’t know what to do. After it became clear that Remus had no intention to move, Patton laughed, dreamy and soft, and shook his hands as dry as he could. He patted Remus’ forearm; bead-bracelets clattered under the Duke’s sleeves.

“Hey,” Patton said.

“Mmh?”

“Not that this isn’t lovely,” he laced his fingers with Remus’, squeezed them, “But I’d like it better if I could hug you back, ya know?”

Remus let go, reluctantly. In the true fashion of intrusive thoughts, there was a second he was so convinced Patton would run, now that he was freed. Make an escape from him, an escape from his claws.

He didn’t. He spun right around and pulled Remus against his chest- one arm linked around his torso, the other winding into his tangled hair. Anyone, at a glance, could see that Patton was huge- but up close the difference was dizzying: his wide chest, encircling arms that seemed to be made of nothing but muscle and padding, and that height, all made him so… comforting. Big and strong, a body that disguised power in soft edges and fat. If he squeezed just a little too tight, in fact, Remus wouldn’t be surprised if Patton could make splinters out of his bones. Which Remus definitely, definitely wouldn’t mind, but the knowledge that Patton not only could do that but also wouldn’t ever do that- that was what really did him in.

And he’d hugged Patton before- months ago, and somehow Patton had seemed so small then, when everything had started- but being hugged? Properly, too, not underwater while one of them was drowning- it was a world of difference. No panic, no breakdowns, just a real, solid hug.

He could just ask for this and then have it. He could smell sugar cookies and candle wax, and feel somebody- a willing body- pressing in. It was weird. He thought that someday, he might get used to it. He wanted a chance to get used to it.

“Do you wanna talk now?” Patton prompted, forcibly reminding Remus that he had a bloodhound’s nose for emotional distress.

“I don’t know.”

Patton hummed, his fingers scratching through Remus’ hair. “Today went better than I thought it would.”

“You didn’t have to bring me, if you thought it was gonna be bad.”

“I wasn’t worried because of you! I was worried because of me. Things have been… a lot for me, lately.”

“Oh,” Remus angled his head to the side, looking up at him. “Yeah. I feel ya.”

“But they were all so much more patient, weren’t they,” Patton’s eyes went a little misty, the way they always did when he talked about his family. “Everything’s different now, and I guess that scared me, but I think that now… it’s a good different, you know?”

“Like us, right?” Remus laughed, “This is the craziest difference, if ya think about it.”

Patton chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest so that Remus felt it more than heard it.

“I don’t think I would’ve gotten through with today without you, you know that?”

It was deeply honest. There was a beat.

“I-” Oh fuck, Remus was choked up, when did that happen? “I wouldn’t have even had a day like today, without you, so. Do with that what you want.”

Remus buried his face in Patton’s sternum, just to avoid the sad understanding in his eyes.

He- he wasn’t exactly made for the care he was getting, not the kind of softness in that face. Not when Patton was still patiently untangling his matt of hair while they hovered in the stillness of the dark, empty kitchen, and Remus desperately didn’t want to cry.

Patton gave him a minute to breathe, at the very least, before:

“They like you, though. Janus loves you.”

“Yeah, okay, but it’s not-”

“I know how you feel,” said Patton, and did. “Like they couldn’t actually care about us, even though it doesn’t make sense for them not to. It’s one of those things that’s easy to forget,” Remus could hear the smile in his voice. “So it’s good we have each other, when we need to get out of our own heads. At least, it’s like that for me, I don’t know if you even-”

“No,” Remus curled his claws in the back of Patton’s shirt, something dark and emotional flooding like tar through his chest. “Nah, you’re right, Morey. This is good for us.”

Remus shook his head at nothing in particular. He forced his hands unballed, pulled back, and wormed his way out of Patton’s hug after way too long.

His skin felt like paper from the affection, like he’d been electrocuted, and while that was fun- was amazing- for a while, he didn’t think he could handle much more in one sitting.

Patton let him go, smiling warmly, leaning back against the counter. His eyes were shiny and wet, but he was content.

“Thanks,” Remus said.

“What for? The hug?”

“No- I mean, that too, but I was saying ‘thanks, for caring’. For giving enough of a shit about me to try and help.”

Patton smiled, solemnly.

“I told you so,” he breathed, “I promised I would like you when I got to know you, and then I did. I do!”

Remus felt a grin returning to his face, sliding across his lips more naturally than anything else he’d had to deal with that night.

“Yeah. You aren’t too bad yourself, Pat.”

Chapter Seven

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

#sanders sides #ts #fanfiction #fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #intruality #qpr intruality #platonic intruality #remus #patton

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sagemoderocklee · 4 years

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2020 has been a weird fucking year, to put it mildly. There have been a lot of ups and downs, and with New Year’s Eve and the start of 2021 upon us, focusing on the ~positive~ seemed like a better way to end the year, and hopefully start 2021 feeling inspired and proud for overcoming this horrendous year.

For many people, it was difficult--even impossible--to get anything done this year (myself included), and that’s okay! But if you were able to make progress on writing projects, even if it was just one or even if it was just part of one, you should celebrate that! I wish I’d thought of this sooner and organized it better, but regardless I wanted to celebrate my own accomplishments with regards to my writing, and encourage others to do the same! I was going to tag people, but I’m not sure with it being 2 hours til midnight for me if that would feel like putting too much pressure on others, so if you want to do this too please do!

This wrap up is honestly just a self-indulgent look back on the works I’ve made and what I learned/gained from each, maybe what I don’t like about them, some totaling on what I did, and some resolutions for the next year. It’s silly, but I think it’s kinda fun and if you missed any of the things I have posted this year, you’ll find them here!

2020 Fic Wrap Up:

Kado: Parts II+III (COMPLETED)

Kado was started in September of 2019 for the @puregaalee summer event. This was a last minute thing that I started the day the prompt was due and managed to write the first part in about 6 hours while sitting in a cafe--remember that? Sitting in cafes? Man, I miss that. I hadn’t anticipated working on Kado, but I decided that I was going to finish it this year, and I’m honestly amazed that I did. This fic is sweet and fun, and surprisingly popular, though it isn’t my favorite of my works. However, it is a light, fluffy little romcom modern AU, and I learned a lot with it because despite my struggles with modern AUs and their horrible lack of political intrigue, this fic forced me to work within set parameters. I was only writing a 3 part story, and each part could only be 9 scenes long. For those unfamiliar, kado is another term for Ikebana, and in Ikebana there are specific elements to follow. Certain styles will only use three branches, some will use nine. So my goal was for the structural elements of the fic to mimic Ikebana. In doing this, I was able to do something I don’t usually do, which is keep this story more concise.

I’m still not sure how I personally feel about the ending, but I think endings are always a struggle, especially with something like this.

Gate of Dreaming (COMPLETED)

This is a fic that I started last year, then left to sit untouched with only 2k words. Getting back into it was a bit difficult because I was writing something very different from my usual: stream of consciousness. This fic was very experimental for me not only because of the stream of consciousness, but also because of the changing tenses. This was another exercise--unexpected though it was--in brevity. With this particular story, it couldn’t be dragged on and on, because--despite the 100 year time span--the events take place within the Infinite Tsukuyomi. This was also the first time I’d worked from Lee’s PoV in quite some time, so that was fun because I do enjoy writing him, but usually write from Gaara’s PoV. This is definitely one of my favorites from this year, and since it had been sitting on the back burner for so long, I’m so excited that I could finally get it done.

Another one where the ending really wasn’t easy to achieve, but I did end up liking it more than I expected, and I think the best thing is that it’s open-ended which leaves room for others to guess at what the future holds.

It Eats Your Heart (WIP)

This was an unexpected fic for me in every way imaginable. Starting another fic? Making another modern AU? Tackling the horror genre? None of those were things I’d planned to do this year, but lo and behold, that’s just what I did. I really enjoy a good bit of horror, but it is NOT an easy genre to work within, and this fic has definitely been a push for me. But with it being such a push, the payoff is far more. Stepping out of my comfort zone is something I like doing, but I think this is the biggest step outside of that and I am so incredibly proud of how that first chapter turned out because of it. I was really able to surprise myself with this fic, and I am hoping to update the next chapter early on in the year.

Absolution (WIP)

This fic is probably the second oldest idea/longest unpublished fic I currently have up. Formerly a much longer title, the idea for this fic came to me in May of 2017 when a friend, @brianadoesotherjunk / @brianadoesart, posted a piece of GaaLee fanart that sparked inspiration. The fic took off, morphed into something much bigger than the one scene depicted by the art, and now 3 years later, the first part is up. Initially, this was meant to be a long shot, but after sitting with this for so long, I realized that I needed to split it up into 9 parts, which allowed me to use this for GaaLee bingo and finally publish it. Much of the first part was already written before this year, but I’d been quite stuck on it until now. This is actually probably one of my favorite GaaLee concepts to date. I remember back in the day, there weren’t a lot of different takes on getting Lee to Suna so he and Gaara could fall in love, so (at the risk of sounding cocky) I think that Lee as a nanny is rather inspired. I think with this fic, I pushed myself the hardest to get past the hurdle of writer’s block and accepted that publishing is probably the best way to motivate myself to keep going. The feedback for this fic has been really motivating, so I think I’m probably right about that.

I do think there are some parts in the middle or towards the end that could maybe use some tightening up, but I’m just happy to finally have this fic out in the world.

The Art of Love: Chapter 11 (WIP)

TAoL is such a ridiculous labor of love. The chapters for this fic are novellas in and of themselves, so each time I update it takes a lot of work to get them out. This fic is one of those like magnum opus type fics. I have put so much into it, and I’m honestly amazed that it’s only been up for 3 years because I’m approaching the halfway mark on it, and I don’t think I expected to be there by now. Despite being able to churn out 30k chapters, I have a hard time focusing on one thing and I often struggle with mental health related writer’s block, so big works are always sort of sporadic in their updates.

This particular update of TAoL was definitely one of my favorites though. Initially, I didn’t plan to go the sort of dark fantasy rout that I did with Shikamaru, but I actually really love what I’ve done with him, though I worry others won’t be as into it or that the execution isn’t quite there. One thing I would like to work on with future chapters of TAoL, however, is maybe pairing things down a bit--though I’m not sure that’ll always be possible. The next chapter is a Naruto PoV chapter, though, so I expect that one to be a MUCH shorter chapter than the last three and should be able to get it out sometime next year.

Before I could publish this chapter, however, I did go through and make some big changes, which is something I often struggle with because of such long breaks in between working on certain projects. I will say, though, that TAoL continues to push me to greater heights as a writer, and I look forward to actually finishing this fic someday.

Thirteen Strokes: 1 + 2 (WIP)

Another unexpected fic this year, however, this one was actually an idea for about a year, unlike IEYH. This fic has really given me a lot of perspective on my own writing and world building, and has inspired me to sit down and really start committing the things I’ve developed to paper to create a cohesive view of Suna, Wind, and the shinobi world. This fic is meant to be a Romance. Like just full on Romance. I write a lot of tragedy and focus on a lot of darker themes in my writing, so while I don’t think of this as stepping outside of my comfort zone, it is very different from my usual, and a really nice change of pace. I think, in all honesty, it is one of my best works, and I do hope I can continue to deliver on the remaining 11 parts of this story.

if this were the last i felt you breathing (COMPLETED)

Ugh. This fic has been my enemy for 2 long years. I signed up for a Secret Santa exchange, and of course, I regretted doing it when I found that I was not motivated and, after the month of October where I was churning out fic after fic for GaaLee Bingo, that I was massively burned out. I wasn’t able to think past writer’s block, and so I ended up settling on dusting off an old, unfinished piece for my giftee, and I hope they can forgive me for not coming up with something brand new for them.

This fic was a struggle. Working so closely with the canon--following the Rescue Kazekage Arc as closely as I did for this fic--made this a much bigger challenge and this fic sat and sat and sat for two years, untouched and incomplete. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. I know it’s not my best work, but I am glad that this fic isn’t hanging over my head and that I was able to deliver something to my secret santa giftee.

My goal with this fic was to rewrite this particular arc from Lee’s PoV to give more depth to the arc and shift the emotional core of it away from Naruto. Naruto as a character has a lot of flaws that never get addressed, and one of the things that is consistently frustrating for me is the way the emotional core of the series rests on him in unrealistic and often superficial ways. Naruto hasn’t spoken to Gaara in three years, but I’m supposed to believe he’s this affected by Gaara’s kidnapping? Temari and Kankuro are right there! Lee is right there! I wanted to see that, so that’s what I set out to do, and ultimately I don’t think I fully succeeded, but I tried. I guess not everything can be a resounding success

---

This year I managed to do a lot more than I realized. New works, updates, and COMPLETED pieces?! I never would have thought, but staying home gave me more free time, and when I was too broke to work on costumes, writing fanfiction was something free I could do.

Total new works: 5 Total updates: 9 Total completed works: 3 Total words this year: 143,587

---

I have a lot of goals for the coming year, and I know I won’t make all of them, but that won’t stop me from trying.

2021 Writing Resolutions:

Reach 1million words (+238,073 words)

Finish IEYH

Finish Pearl-Filled Lungs

Update TAoL (Chapter 12 and 13)

Update Absolution

Update 13S

Update Find Me (Chapter 6)

Start the Ballad of the Dragon and the Phoenix

Start editing Alliance

Return to working on Honor Bound

Return to working on We Need Not Be Yellow Tulips

#naruto fanfiction #gaalee #naruto #shippuden #gaara #rock lee #fanfiction 2020 wrap up #fanfic year in review

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

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Hi :) I... really wanna read a fanfic or two but I can't find one I vibe with xD So... do you know one that's not too long (around 100k words maybe), has hurt and comfort, smut (am I allowed to ask about that?? Ahhhh) and a happy ending? Top!lock would be a bonus but it's not necessary. And if it's a nice AU (like... any kind but no crossovers pls), it would be perfect! :D By the way, I found your blog only a few hours ago and I already feel really comfy and Idk, kinda at home here ^-^

Hi Nonny!!!

Welcome to my corner of the Tumblrsphere!!! I’m so happy you’ve found me, LOL, because I love all my followers and friends! <3

First of all, I think it’s super cute that “not too long” to you is “around 100K” LOL LOL LOL!!! <3 That said, I’d argue all my fic recs are fabulous, LOL. But again, I’m stupidly proud of the wonderful lists I’ve accumulated, because it satisfies my organization kink LOL. And yes, you’re ALWAYS allowed to ask for smut here LOL.

ANYWAY, so I’m gonna use this ask as an excuse to post up a long-overdue part two to my 50 to 100K fic list! But first, here’s some past lists for the genres you’re looking for:

FIC MASTER PAGES: PG1 || PG 2 || PG 3

Toplock (Mar 2020)

Omegaverse

Please Check PG 3 for all my AU fic lists. There’s a lot :)

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 1: Under 5K Words

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 2: 5K to 10K Words

Fandom Favourites / Popular Fics

I hope those will get you started! So now, here’s the main event!! Hope you enjoy them!

50 - 100 K WORDS Pt. 2 (Novel Length)

See also:

Fics Under 2000 w.

Fics Under 2000 w. Pt. 2

Fics Under 2000 w. Pt. 3

E-Rated Johnlock for Newcomers Pt 1 (Short Fics under 20K)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K (Aug. 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Long S3/Post-S3 Fics (20K+ w.) [Apr 2020]

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017)

Smut-Free Fics Over 50K (Aug 2019)

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of the SpaceBois go to Space series

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Love Making, Butt Plugs, Cuddles) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock's first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w. || Notting Hilll AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn't have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

This Thing All Things Devours by cypress_tree (E, 63,844 w., 15 Ch. || In Time AU || Science Fiction, Dystopian Universe, First Meetings, Action / Adventure, Romance) – In 2169, time is money—literally. Humans are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, when the numbers on their arm start counting down from one year. When that time is up, they die. The only way to get more time is to earn it, borrow it, or steal it.John Watson lives day-to-day in the crowded slums of Zone 13. He never imagined living any differently—until he meets the practically-immortal Sherlock, and helps him on a case to track a local time-thief...

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU || Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) – A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater / Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 Series by distantstarlight (E, 96,540 w. across 31 stories || Prompt Ficlets, Assorted Kinks, PWP) – A collection in response to the 31 Days of Porn Challenge issued by AtlinMerrik! Thanks for doing that because this has been buttload of fun (that joke never gets old). All stories will be brief stand-alone one-shots.

The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w., 23 Ch. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) – Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 97,884 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #long fics #50 to 100k #Anonymous #fic rec wednesday #e-rated fics

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bicommunitynews · 4 years

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Each year we publish a roundup of bi events at the end of December. Naturally this one will be a little less packed than usual. Nonetheless wishing you a very different and better year ahead! At the start of the year very few of us realised what might be ahead as the COVID-19 virus was still thought to be far away and most likely confined to a corner of China. So for those first ten weeks or so of 2020 things were happening as normal. So it was at the start of January when Layla Moran became the first UK MP to come out as pansexual. Courts compensated a worker who had been told to pretend to be gay rather than bi in the workplace and returned confiscated medals to an ex serviceman. Northern Ireland started to consult on same-sex marriage while we learned women are more likely to divorce one another than men. There was good news on HIV figures and from the European Court declaring that government inaction on LGBTphobic hate was no longer acceptable. And the Welsh Government declared it would go a step further than merely repealing Section 28 with active work to ensure children are making informed choices on sex and relationships. In February Bi Pride got a mention in the House, while LGBT History Month saw many more bi-related talks than usual. Overseas Switzerland voted to recognise LGBT hate crimes. There were bis on TV in Doctors and I Am Not OK With This as well as a new season of Atypical to look forward to. And new research showed peculiar findings about bi people and skin cancer.

With the pandemic seeing the start of lockdown in the UK during March events started to be cancelled like Birmingham BiFest and BiFest Wales. As Prides started to fall like dominoes, Eurovision announced its first ever rollover winner. In the USA a St Patrick’s Day parade barred a beauty pageant winner from marching on account of her bisexuality. We had more bi representation on TV in Love Is Blind’s demonstration of double-standards over bisexuality, BBC polyamory drama Trigonometry, and Batwoman. The House of Commons held its first ever debate on LBT women’s health while Canada declared its intention to outlaw so-called “gay cure” so-called “therapy”. And new figures showed more people identifying as bi in the UK than ever.

In April many of us were starting to get used to life indoors and wondering how much a loo roll could fetch on eBay there were sobering thoughts about how the lockdown meant a lot of bi and LGBT people were now trapped in unsafe situations. The USA responded by relaxing its limitations on bi and gay men donating blood with Australia contemplating the same shift. The first LGBT club closure of the pandemic was announced in Brighton. On TV we had a raft of fresh bi viewing with the return of Flack, Killing Eve and Harley Quinn. But the big bi drama of the month was away from TV as BiNetUSA abruptly tried to claim copyright over the public domain bisexual flag.

Most LGBT magazines stopped publishing for the time being due to the pandemic but we took the decision to keep BCN coming out as one little strand of bi life we could keep fairly normal, so our April edition was the second of six in 2020.

Staying indoors gave people some time to organise and so in May there were online campaigns about the blood donation ban and conversion therapy. Being indoors also meant people could virtually visit museums worldwide. New research showed bi men were the most closeted group across Europe.

As the Black Lives Matter movement drew headlines worldwide in June dating app Grindr dropped its race filter. One of those “how did that take so long?” moments. There was a big victory in the US Supreme Court, while over here a new faux LGB equality campaign group came out against same-sex marriage, for anyone who hadn’t already realised they weren’t on the side of any queer folks. The BBC nonetheless carried on quoting them as if they were a serious human rights campaign. The annual Bi Book Awards winners were announced, though without (for now) the usual glamorous awards event. The Grammys got their tongue tied online. In good news, Gabon decriminalised sex between women and between men and Scotland opened up civil partnerships to any couple regardless of gender. BiCon had a bumpy month with two organising teams quitting in the space of a week.

In July we had more happy news from abroad as Montenegro recognised same-sex civil partnerships and South Africa changed its rules on how marriage ceremonies are conducted. It was less good elsewhere as the budget for PrEP was cut in the UK and in Poland the presidential election came down to a knife-edge before going the wrong way. We learned bis have worse experiences of crime than other people and the GLAAD annual review of film releases noted cinema was getting Whiter and gayer, with no bi male representation in major film releases.

We are used to a host of Prides in August so it was a hot summer with so much less to do every Saturday! However some ran online and BiCon happened in a very slimmed-down online form. The run-up to Bi Visibility Day began with more Town Halls deciding to fly the bi flag. New US research showed bi youth experience of bullying.

It’s Bi Visibility Day, Bi Week and Bi Month in September and among the delights was improvements in dictionary definitions. Northern Ireland inched further forward on equality while the UK courts rules that the Equality Act includes nonbinary people. Coming-out guide Getting Bi came out for the Kindle. In the USA we saw the first research on how the COVID-19 pandemic was hitting the LGBT communities while here Stonewall had research on how many bis are out to their families – not many.

In October we learned there would be a biopic of former US Congresswoman Katie Hill. Netflix dropped GLOW. In good news for millions the Pope made a small shift toward a better attitude to LGBT lives on the part of the Catholic Church. And in bad news here, a BBC which was veering increasingly far from balanced and responsible reporting of LGBT issues warned staff they should not attend Pride events even in their own time and private lives.

All eyes were on the USA in November as Donald Trump lost by a huge margin in the election there – albeit not as wide a margin as many opinion polls had predicted. Biden won with over 80 million votes in the end – more than any previous candidate. Biden’s speech missed out the “B”. Europe considered its next five year plan on LGBT work without the UK, and in Poland there were symbolic protests against the hateful “LGBT free zone” populists. We all realised we had been too distracted by COVID to notice that the LGBT inclusion work in schools that had started under the Conservative-Lib Dem coalition had been quietly dropped by the new minister for Women and Equalities.

Most important, COVID vaccines started to be approved. After a very hard year, change was at last in sight.

In December the three month ban on blood donation for bi and gay men and their partners was completely rewritten – for better and for worse – though the new rules don’t come in until a few months into 2021. Kyrsten Sinema rocked a great wig and coat in Washington. There was divine justice as a homophobic MEP got caught breaking COVID rules at a gay party. And Switzerland – whose good news on hate crime kicked the year off – decided to let same-sex couples marry. And so ILGA’s annual world map of LGBT rights showed a ripple of changes. And our fifth edition of the pandemic landed on subscriber doormats, more or less in time for Christmas.

That was 2020. To our most sincere delight, it is in the past. Here’s to a very different year ahead.

#2020 #year in review #2020 in bisexual

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raleigh-ocean · 4 years

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troubles of a learning heart, part 1 | billie dean howard x dara ann lynch

words: 12,580

summary: Love was quite the difficult thing at times, Billie thought many times, and she admired Dara for spending the last seven years how it felt to be truly loved, however when she started to try and give back that love to her...well, let’s say she didn’t expect that there would be moments in which she would have to step forward and actively show it. But, as she lies in bed with Dara still by her side, she thinks that she will make it as long as her heart pick up quick in the habits, in the ways of showing her dear love that she’s being reciprocated. First part of two.

warning: anxiety attack? Idk I kinda wanna give y’all some warning that there’s a heavy part near the end.

n/a: I want to thank @grilledcheeseandguavajelly for encouraging me to post it, because I’ve been feeling like a no-no since I finished this yesterday. This is full of tiny headcanons and bits from other of my stories and some others I want to write, so I hope you enjoy it. This first part is like a prequel to put a context to the next chapter of ‘over my skin, part 3’ and the second part would be the resolution of this big thing, because it goes deeper. I’m trying to make Billie finally build her love, all those raw feelings she has for Dara and put her into a few situations I think it will help her.

"Here you go papi, take it easy, don't want your mother to scream at both because you spilled your ice-cream all over your new shirt so soon."

Billie looked at Dara in that moment with a mix of fondness and amusement, trying at the same time to find a way to help the other seven year old boy, who was smiling at his brother with all the happiness a kid could gather up when given what they wanted.

Her attention drifted a bit when a loud chuckle interrupted the moment, the teenage girl that was fighting her chocolate ice-cream from melting all over her hand snapping her out of the calm picture and getting a scowl back from the last boy.

"Auntie always has shirts to spare around because they get messy," the scowling boy - Ezra, Billie recalled his name this time - was barely two months older than the twin boys, but since she met him, Billie found out that he was an intelligent and straight-to-the point kid.

"I figure, y'all lot have the same curse with food and clothes," Dara smiled at him with the sweetest dimpled smile, which was returned with a similar one from Ezra. "I remember when your sister was around your age that your abuelita always had sweatpants ready in case of an accident."

That made the teenager blush fiercely and the kids to giggle, Billie trying to hide her own smile eating some of her own ice-cream.

Today was being a good day so far even when she had her doubts about it when it started, taking in count she was not used to babysit. But she thought it was good in someway, an exception to make her remember that even when she was in some kind of vacation from work, it felt good to be able to do something instead of just sitting around in a house that was still pretty much unknown for her.

"What? Did I lie mami?" Dara, in a smooth move, saved some vanilla ice-cream from falling into the table and then ate a spoonful of her own - Billie always found funny how most of the time Dara picked fruit flavors.

"Please aunt Dara, stop calling me that," Eva - Billie remembered that one easily - gave Billie a quick glance before trying to hide somehow her embarrassment.

"Yeah, give her a rest babe," Billie was fast to pick up that and with the pet name, she had Dara smiling at her and throwing her hands in the air, all of that before lowering her voice a bit. "I think her friends overheard you enough back at the mall."

"Fine, fine, I'm only stopping because you gonna get enough of it once we are back at the house," Dara took a look over her niece and nephews before standing up. "I'm getting some more napkins before any mess happens."

It was weird for Billie to see that 'doting aunt' side of Dara, but she couldn't help but think how much it suited her. Hearing her talk with soft and cheerful voice here and there, only made Billie believe that her partner was a natural when it came to take care of the rest.

She looked at her for a second, seeing how much Dara was limping but not complaining about it, and it filled Billie with some sick respect for her...and worry.

However her attention drifted once again when Ezra asked her if he could try some of her ice-cream in a shy tone, mostly because his sister didn’t seem to let him indulge in that. Not having Dara by her side made Billie nervous for some reason, probably because she wasn’t used to be in her own in this situation. And also because she didn’t know much about Dara’s hometown, so it was a strange situation for sure.

“Kids!” the sudden masculine voice startled Billie, making her heart to start beating faster. “Where’s your mom, hmm?”

“¡Tío!” it was then when Billie entered the panic zone because two of the four kids were moving faster than she could, going to hug a man that she never saw before. “We’re eating ice-cream!”

This tall man, with leather vest, an old t-shirt of some kind of festival and baggy jeans. His hair was slicked back except for a few loose strands that fell over his forehead. He had tattoos covering his arms and some showing through the neck of his shirt.

“That can I see and taste,” the man laughed because he had pick up the twins, they were kissing him in his cheeks and giving him to try their desserts, and then his eyes went to Billie first before looking at the teenager girl. “Where’s Diana or your mother, Eva? I thought Carla didn’t let you go alone outside.”

“We aren’t alone,” Ezra interceded, scowling once again, but not looking at the man. “We are with aunt Billie…”

If Billie was nervous and about to panic, hearing the kid addressing her like that calmed her in a weird way. She wasn't a stranger to be called aunt, her own sister had a couple of kids, but she visited them so little that it was just as weird. She smiled at him, but the man didn’t even seem to acknowledge Ezra nor her because he kept looking at Eva with an inquisitive look. Eva didn’t seem to want to talk and Billie wasn’t sure if she was afraid or just the stubborn teenager part, but she did it the same with a strange glint of pride that Billie already saw somewhere that she couldn’t pinpoint at the moment.

“Working. Aunt Dara came a few days ago, she’s watching over us,” it was time for the man to go pale suddenly.

“Edo, Ev, you’re gonna make a mess all over your uncle, get down papis, c'mon.”

Obedient as ever, the twins wiggled their way to the ground and Billie got her stomach in a tight knot only by feeling how the still cheerful situation dropped to one more serious. Dara was leaning in her cane with both hands, looking at the man that was now facing her, a nervous smile over his lips.

"Ana, how you doin'?" There wasn't a visible height difference, but Billie got the feeling that the man shortened when he leant to kiss Dara's cheek in a friendly way - and receiving a soft one back in response. "Didn't know you were back."

"For a few days, yeah, we're on vacation and decided to spend it with my family," the sentiment in Billie's guts got tighter when Dara was adamant in making a point with the way she said the 'we', tapping her cane in the ground twice. "And I've never been better Godo. I'm spending the morning with my niece and nephews, what else could I ask for?"

"That's amazing th-"

"Tío Godo asked where's mama, tía," Eduardo, the twin with the bright green shirt, was quick to speak over the adult while hugging Dara's good leg.

Billie saw the way Godo sunk a bit more with that, how Dara's brown eyes hardened and how Eva looked away almost immediately.

"Is that so, hmm?" Dara hummed, fixing Eduardo's messy black hair with quick fingers, the gold of her rings shining a bit while her attention went from the kid to the man.

"Just checking in Ana, y'know I worry about the kids and they were alone," Godo chuckled nervously and Billie immediately felt a soft static in her skin. "I bet you understand."

"Uncle here asked for mom too," Eva chirped, only making Dara to tighten her jaw a second before flashing one of her smiles.

"But they weren't alone, my partner here was with them," Billie absolutely didn't want to get any attention, unlike the rest of the time in her life. "As I am, so now you can go your way with your worries eased. I'm sure you can give my sisters a call if you wanted to speak with them, right?" Godo nodded and the static went away, Dara smiling at him again as if she was even glad to have met him there. "Great, then it was nice to see you, Big G."

When he was gone, Billie smiled almost shyly at Dara and was met with the purest form of happiness in the way the woman smiled her back. It was as if the encounter didn't happen and Billie knew right off the bat that there was a long story behind all of the animosity that the kids missed by a head - except maybe for Eva, which started to act a bit softer towards her little brother.

After that they resumed the ice-cream time a few minutes later and decided to make a quick stop to get burgers for take out. Billie knew Dara always liked to actually eat in the place, but by the way her leg was acting up, it was for the best to take everything back to the house instead of staying for lunch.

"Annie, everything alright?" asked Billie while the kids were already running towards Dara's parents and Eva was carrying the bags with the food.

"Yeah honey, just a bit tired but nothing a nap can't fix," Dara leant for a kiss, one longer than the tiny pecks they shared over the morning. "I'm hungry actually, and you?"

"I'm hungry too," Billie chuckled, wrapping her arms better around Dara's waist and drawing a giggle from her. A new slow kiss making them forget their chances of making out like teenagers against Dara's mother's car were getting high. "But nothing we can’t fix before your nap," that made Dara laugh and Billie smiled big at her. "If we can, of course, I mean...did you see your nephews? We should be running before they eat our food too."

"Their stomachs are like black holes, incredible, isn't it?" Dara pressed her lips against Billie's in a lazy and tired kiss, before lacing their arms together so they could walk inside with the rest. "I think is a genetic thing."

And after only one day around Dara's family, Billie knew that it was true. She never saw so much food disappear so fast in a long while, and she was living with Dara for almost four years now and with her for almost three more.

…

“Who was the guy?”

Billie managed to pull away from the charm that was Dara spreading body cream in her legs to finally ask the question. They’d claimed the main bathroom for themselves after everyone had their turn and they were taking every extra second of that privacy.

Against the odds, Dara passed out the second she touched the inflatable mattress and Billie took that time to indulge in answering some emails at first, but after the few first ones it became impossible to do something else with Dara cuddling her right side with such sweet face. Would it be hard to take a quick nap? When they woke up, Billie thought she had been hit with a rock, her eyes too heavy, but tiny kisses helped her to get rid of the sleep.

If they tried to get some well deserved private moment, it was broken the second Darziel - Dara’s little brother - came through the door complaining about how their mother was doing some kind of zafarrancho to get ready for tonight’s dinner. Dara had hit him with her cane, repeatedly, until she managed to get him out of the room and then Ezra came in running from the twins, trying to get a place to hide. Billie knew it was a matter of time they got interrupted again and she was right the moment Deirdre - Dara’s biggest sister and Eva and Ezra’s mom - came into the room, hiding as well from her own mother…

...and in a matter of time, the room was crowded.

“Who?” asked Dara, fixing a bit her loose robe, but not stopping from going through the little routine. Billie was used to see it and appreciate it by now and seeing her so bare, raw, natural, helped greatly each time to remind her how much she loved her girl.

“Badass Godo-guy,” explained Billie, getting as comfortable as she humanly could, sitting in an old stool and her back to the tile wall. “He was pretty adamant in ignoring not only me but your nephew. Ezra told him I was with them but turned a deaf ear on it.”

For a second Billie forgot what was she saying because Dara turned around, the robe loose again and letting her see...well, some pretty nice things; and walked towards her - barely two steps because the bathroom wasn’t really big - to sit in her lap. Billie feared for a second the stool was going to collapse under their weight, but it was resilient enough. Hands on hips, hands on shoulders and Dara was sighing softly while playing with the ends of Billie’s blonde hair.

“My brother-in-law’s brother...Diana’s,” Billie silently thanked the clarification, drawing her thumbs over Dara’s thighs in random patterns - she was extra careful with the one scarred. “He’s a fucking bully, went with me to high school. Godofredo doesn’t like many people and the sentiment is mutual.”

“For being a bully, you got him acting like a tiny pupper, doll,” Dara was the one smiling shyly this time, getting a kiss just for that.

“Let’s say that I...beat him up really hard once,” Billie kissed Dara’s knuckles and fingers, bare from her usual rings, and then the inside of her wrist were one of her cross tattoos rested. “And twice, and thrice...and broke a chair in his back.” It was then when Billie looked at her wide-eyed. “That one had to do with why he ignored my nephew like that.”

Billie knew they would’ve been at it right away again, but she felt satisfied with what they did in the shower for some reason. That’s why they were last to shower, because Dara took in her hands all the things her siblings didn’t want to do - helping her mother in the kitchen, per example; driving her uncle Cedric to his appointment afterwards while Billie tried to help Dara's father in the backyard - to have the rest of the time from there to dinner free.

It was their time, only theirs to do as they wanted, and Billie wanted to actually fill it with more than sex.

Talking was good, she liked hearing Dara talk, and hearing more about her was even better. She was genuinely interested in whatever she was about to hear...because all she could focus in was the woman sitting in her lap, not in whatever was floating inside her brain almost twenty four seven.

“Godo and Berto’s oldest brother is Eva’s father,” Billie saw Dara frowning and she leant to kiss her chin, getting one in her cheek in response. “I don’t even care where the fuck he is now, Berto neither, but Godo always looked up to his big brother. Fifteen years has passed and he still forgets that his brother lost any right as father and partner the day he left my sister to her own devices, and that’s only the top of the list,” there was tiredness in Dara’s voice and a hint of rage that faded when Billie focused in keep drawing soft patterns in her skin. “It took my sister eight years to finally move on, she got married and soon Ezra was in the way. Godo still takes that as a treason or I don’t even know at this point...and well, the rest is story.”

“But I don’t get how you ended up breaking a chair in his back,” it was a lot to take in, to be fair, but Dara couldn’t help but laugh when Billie tried to lighten the mood in the bathroom.

“He decided to be a super duper asshole towards Deirdre while we were doing groceries, and well, a twenty-five years old me was really...let’s say I had a lot of pent up anger. I was invited to a party and you know how I get with the gin and he had the fucking audacity to show up,” Dara shrugged a bit and kissed Billie on the lips, sweet and slow while indulging in the intimate embrace. “If it wasn’t for Daya, he would have had a broken pool stick going clean through his thigh.”

“Wait, twenty-five, we already met when you did all of that?” Billie blinked fast at that and Dara blushed hard. “Now I can see why you were so-”

“Oh shush, I still am like that or did you forget what we did a week ago?” it was time for Billie to laugh and Dara to act like she was offended by what she said. Act because of the way she bit her cheek playfully. “But I did soften since then.”

She didn’t think that Dara actually softened, sometimes Billie could see that fierceness in her eyes, but she let her have that because she decided to move when someone knocked on the door. It was Dara’s father, Jeziel, telling them that they needed help to set up the table. Billie muffled a laugh against her hand when Dara silently punched the air and pinched the bridge of her nose before replying that they were going down in ten.

“See?” Dara started to gather their things to get back to the room. “This is why I like your sister."

"Do you now?" Billie raised an eyebrow, because she knew how much Dara despised Josephine - Jo wasn't really polite with her and openly declared her dislike for Dara, even when Dara herself always tried to be the most polite ever, to the point that even Billie and Jo's father had started to make positive comments towards the younger woman.

"Yeah, with her at least I see the knife that's gonna stab me," Dara laughed openly and Billie couldn't help but chuckle with her. "Bunch of traitors, I'm telling you, we gonna steal the natillas and the vodka bottle and go feast by the pool."

"Baby, you're on your medication," Billie caught Dara by the waist, spinning her around so she could kiss her once again. "You can't get hammered."

"Calamities never come alone," Billie knew it was a rough translation of some spanish words just by how weird was it phrased, but it was okay, who cared anyway? "Would my lady in shining armor come save us from doing the dishes tonight?"

God, why was she so goofy unexpectedly? Dara didn't seem to want to let go, her arms circling Billie's neck with care and pressing slow kisses down her cheeks to her neck. It wasn't fair, it had to be illegal!

"We'll use one of the twins as distraction and the other to steal the car keys, I'll take you anywhere you want me to," she tried to sound dreamy, fairy tale-sque even, but all she did was sound a bit desperate. "Pick a direction and I'll drive."

"God, how much I love you Billie Dean," the next kiss was glorious, taking in count it was probably the big last one until they were again in their room late at night later. "But we should go already, honey, let's go."

And that was it, their private moment ended with a dreamy sight and a kiss to die for, and Billie felt like something in her chest beamed with pride, love and a deepness she was getting fond of.

Dara was a slow walker now, to her own dismay since she hated moving slow, so it was easy to capture her hand and intertwine their fingers. Billie opened her mouth for a second, thinking about what she was going to say next, and Dara looked at her with curiosity filling her tired eyes. Without make-up, Billie could see the tiny freckles over her nose and cheeks better and it only added her a whole new level of cuteness.

"Are you okay Bills?" it was a question in a whisper, genuine worry laced with the words.

"Yes, it's only that I...well," she wanted to say it, she really wanted but it was too difficult. "I…" Dara's eyes shone in anticipation, one that made Billie feel a bit bad. "I think you didn't softened, you only got wiser and more patient."

How hard actually was when Dara said it to her almost everyday?

"Absolutely, if twenty-five me would had been in the same situation as thirty-two me today, that man would had been at the dentist to get fake teeth for real as of now," Dara giggled, hiding away the little disappointment upon not hearing those words she wanted to hear so bad, and kissed Billie's cheek sweetly. "Not letting him go with the soft warning of 'go already or I'll break your ribs with my cane'," one more kiss to Billie's nose and a dimpled smile. "Now let's go, before Diana breaks a new plate in the way to set up the table."

...

Billie didn’t know what to do at that point and it perfectly showed.

She always had easy talk ready to overcome awkward situations, that’s how she survived to lots of parties all those years. But Dara could see that it wasn't that easy for her right in this moment, not when she was watching Deirdre and Diana argue over God knows what and none seemed to want to stop them.

Dara was used to that, Deirdre was always out of touch with the fact that Diana was sensitive and Diana always forgot that Deirdre loved to burn every argument down to the base. It didn't help at all that her mom was trying to give Billie some pointers about, again, God knows what and that was messing up with any tempo her dear medium was trying to keep. She wanted to go save her before it was too late for her head, but she was busy getting the plates over the table in order while Eduardo tried to talk her ear off about the show he seemed to love so much these days.

How could a seven years old talk that much and so fast? If she wasn't trained with the old ladies at the store, she would've gone insane only five seconds in.

"¿En serio, papi? Give me that," Dara smiled at her nephew, not wanting to cut his speech but needing the cutlery in his hands. Eduardo gave it to her without taking a break from talking. "Hmm, abuelita gave you more forks, someone's coming?" But the kid was too deep in his world of explaining to his favourite part to actually pay more attention than the necessary to his aunt. "Well, we'll see later then."

It was something that didn't worry Dara at all, taking in count in her house there was always more people than the usual. Maybe her parents invited some friend over or her siblings, who knows? Reaching for her cane, which she left against the table, Dara decidedly tried to move towards Billie now that she was free.

Her grandfather, Bruno, saved the medium from the little chaos and they were sharing a comfortable silence in the couch, or at least that much Dara could see. Seeing both like that, two of the most important people in her life getting along well, made her stomach explode with butterflies as if she was a teenager again. And she wanted to be part of it too, even when she overheard some ruckus in the front door.

However, the ruckus had a name and Dara was interrupted in her tiny quest of making her way to Billie because of the new guest at the house.

"Oh God, Dara!!!!!" Loud as ever, the asian girl crossing the backyard door was smiling directly at her, running with open arms towards her and meeting in a big hug. "How long since I last saw you? Instagram posts doesn't count, it's been forever!"

"Don't be dramatic Gemma, I was here a couple months ago," Dara couldn't help but laugh at her soon sister-in-law's antics. "I hope Darziel is treating you right."

"Your brother will always treat me well," Gemma's laugh was clear and soft, making Dara feel at ease only with that. "Where's your mom, by the way? My mom made me brought over some desserts and other things."

"Kitchen...I think? You know the drill, follow the panicked voice and you'll find her," they both laughed with that and Gemma hugged her again, Dara indulging on it because well, she missed her friend, to be honest. "At my left at dinner like always?"

"Of course! Your right is for your grangran, how can I stole his sea-"

"Actually, tonight Billie is at my right," the statement made Gemma stop from walking and she looked back at Dara with surprise and curiosity written all over he face. "He's at her right."

"No way, is she here?" Hearing Gemma so excited only because Billie came to Sacramento this time, made Dara happily hum and nodded where Billie was now shyly chatting with Deirdre's husband. "Okay, okay, later you'll fill me with details and I'll try to sell my soul to the devil so you two have a table at the restaurant before you go back home," Gemma squeezed Dara's hand over the cane and smiled big at her before Ezra drew her attention, hugging her by the thighs. "Hey, big guy! Let's go see your granny, I brought your favourite mini-cakes."

When Gemma was gone, Dara couldn't help but chuckle to herself. Who would have tell that an eight year gap was something difficult in a friendship? She practically saw Gemma grow up in the woman she was today, her brother and her the bestest of friends until the spark of love grew between them and became more. To this day, it still amazed Dara how everyone was so blind to not see how Darziel was head over heels with her since they were little.

Maybe she could tell Billie that story at the promised dinner at Gemma's parents' restaurant.

Looking towards her blonde, Dara caught Billie asking for silent help because Abraham was drifting away in the conversation - as always - and she was getting even more lost if it was possible. Yeah, she totally needed to save her girl, be the knight in shining armour first and all those nice things.

But right in the moment she was about to take the first step, she heard it clear even over the voices of everyone.

The whir of a motorbike making a left in the corner of the street, the engine stopping in front of the house...it was loud enough to fill the silence of the street even when the house was alive with voices. It made Dara's stomach churn anxiously just with that, because she knew that exact sound by heart and soul. She really wanted it to be a hallucination because of the mix of allergy and pain meds, but the doorbell going off told her it wasn't.

Frozen like she was, Dara managed to turn around when she heard the rest welcoming the new guest that came through the backyard door. She wasn't ready for this, not at all, but she composed her best smile by the moment her eyes locked with those she knew from a long time ago, filled with surprise and something deeper, something she wasn't sure what it was because she was too worried to not runaway in that moment.

"Dara...Ana," her second name was always the way to soften her and only three people in this world could make it work. "You look beautiful, how are you?"

Her grandfather, Billie and Benjamin, her ex.

"Getting ready for the feast," Dara smiled in automatic and she immediately knew Benjamin knew it as well, that she was slipping into her full damage control mode as the clock was ticking even when she felt herself less tense. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

And it wasn’t a lie, he had changed...both had changed greatly, in fact, but Dara thought the change looked better on him. Benjamin sported his hair short, one of those modern haircuts kids these days wore, and it was obvious he had trouble with styling it since he had wore it long since Dara had memory. He was dressed in jeans, clean sneakers, and shirt buttoned all the way up...and he looked so uncomfortable on it, that it drove Dara crazy for some reason.

Making her forget that she had literally no clue why he was even there.

And she moved towards him, like a magnet, instead of going to save Billie from Abraham’s never-ending talk.

Billie saw how Dara made her way towards the new man in the house and she felt something waking up in the pit of her stomach.

It wasn’t like she didn’t see Dara interacting with people, she was always polite and kind even with strangers, but it was the way the man threw his hands a bit to help her girl, the way Dara only moved her hand to dismiss it and got what she wanted - because who could get Dara to indulge without a fight? -; the way she fixed his shirt and his hair with quick fingers, the man thanking in a whisper while he also fixed his belt; and obviously the way he took her cane’s hand and kissed her fingers, over her rings, respectfully.

All of that it what truly woke Billie’s raw jealousy...but in a way she had never felt before.

A sad one that started eating her alive right in that moment.

It went worse the second they were all sat at the table finally. Dara seemed nervous, her fingers flickering with the need of having a cigarette over her knee, when this man sat in front of them led by Dara’s mother. Billie wanted to reach for her hand, intertwine her fingers with hers and kiss her head to whisper the softest ‘I love you’ ever whispered and see if it would help her girl to calm down.

Her eyes went to the rest of the table, trying to see if anyone was acting different, but she was met with the pure happiness of a family gathering. It gave her the empty sensation she sometimes had with Dara, like an impenetrable wall that hold back everything, but when she looked at their side of the table…

...she was met with something completely different.

Gemma was her bubbly self, but she kept being the most attentive towards Dara, talking her ear off but also giving her reassuring touches here and there. Darziel was as nervous as his sister, but he was trying to keep himself busy with eating because unlike Dara, his appetite never died apparently. Don Bruno kept eating, his eyes on the man as if he was able to dig holes in his skull just like that, but also kept passing Billie some of the dishes so she could eat a little of this and a little of that, making mumbled pointers about the food. Berto and Abraham talked to each other, to their kids, but sometimes gave nervous glances to their wives and to this man.

When her eyes finally landed in Carla, in the right end of the table, Billie knew there was something bigger than a family gathering going on and somehow, her sad jealousy went to a second plane because her attention was drawn by this same man that seemed to destabilize the whole picture.

“Sorry, I think we weren’t introduced,” he had a sweet smile, gentleman like, and it was pretty visible for her that he was trying to make things less awkward. He stretched his hand over the big lasagna platter and Billie went in automatic, taking it in hers. She expected a strong handshake but he held her hand as delicately as he did with Dara’s minutes ago. “I’m Benjamin Hernández, my parents are old friends of the family.”

“Billie Dean Howard,” she said her name trying to add the punch she always added when meeting someone, but she failed miserably. “I’m Annie’s partner.”

She did not fail, however, in finally reaching for Dara’s hand under the table with her free one, intertwining their fingers as she wanted. She didn't need to put up the charade of the medium of the stars, the fake smile, a more composed voice. She was just Billie.

And having Dara looking at her with the whole universe shining in her eyes was all that she needed to get her going through the whole dinner.

...

Saying that she ate too much was an understatement, she was pretty sure that she never ate that much to begin with. But it didn’t feel wrong, Billie was actually satisfied, warm and feeling just a bit tipsy thanks to the wine, making her enjoy better the rest of the night. She was still pretty much jealous, who was she kidding, but having Dara so close to her while they were playing domino with Diana, Deirdre and Gemma did wonders on her mood.

Dara seemed less nervous and leaving tiny pecks in her cheeks every time they did a good move in the game seemed to be helping her keep whatever storm that’s brewing in her head at bay.

“No, honey, you need to pay attention to this and this,” Billie nodded, following Dara’s hands. “And then...you put this one and boom! We won!”

“No fucking way!” Diana laughed at Deirdre’s reaction, Gemma still trying to figure out how Dara had won once again at domino. “To Hell with you, how do you do that? You always sucked ass to this game.”

“I found some online domino and the store is empty too many hours a day, I got better just by boredom,” Dara chuckled while Diana pulled all the tiles together, so they could play another round. “And Dahlia and I always play when we get together, she’s teaching Shelby as well.”

“And how that’s going? She’s a pretty good teach, I’ll always remember how she helped me with maths over Skype.” asked Gemma, happy to hear about Dahlia.

“Horrible, for a yoga instructor, Shelby sure does have like zero patience,” Billie laughed at that, the memory of how frustrated the other blonde woman was fresh in her head, while Dara put her arm over her shoulders. “Dahlia loves her too much to tell her, but hey, until then we got some funny show going."

Billie looked at Dara for a second, taking in the way the orangish light lightened her features ever so softly. Beautiful, so beautiful, so, so beautiful that Billie leant to kiss her just because she couldn't help it at this point of the night. Dara smiled against her lips and also indulged on it, her hand to Billie's cheek to loosely caress her cheekbone with her thumb.

It didn't last long but they kept kissing each other, peck after peck and making them forget they were about to play another round of domino, making both forget they felt still uneasy from dinner.

"Go get a room you two," Diana threw them a domino tile and Dara chuckled against the last kiss, receiving another one in the cheek.

"Same room you all keep using as hiding spot? No, thanks, I pretty much prefer to wait a few more days till we get home," Billie hid her face in Dara's neck so they couldn't see her smiling smugly at the lie, but also fondly at how the word 'home' sounded in Dara's lips. "Unless you want to learn some stuff from yo-"

"Oh my dear lord, don't finish that sentence Dara Ann Lynch!"

Everything sent them all into a big fit of laughter, one shushed quickly by Carla coming out from the kitchen back door with her arms akimbo. They five were the only ones still in the yard, the rest inside taking care of dirty dishes, sleepy kids and furniture moved.

“You better move inside, your father is already getting the ron out and all,” it was their cue to move, Billie knew that pretty well, and she soon had her arm ready for Dara to take. “Billie, can you be a dear and help me with coffee?”

“I can help you m-” Dara started to say before Billie could say or do something.

“Oh no, cariño," the way Carla smiled made Billie's stomach churn and she gave a side glance to Dara. "You rest a bit, okay? Dei, Dia, help your father, I think he's also fighting with the music thing you bought him for Christmas."

Deirdre and Diana said 'si mamá' at the same time and Gemma scratched the back of her neck, not knowing what to do since her mother-in-law didn't give her a task. Carla was still there, waiting for Billie, and she smiled at her before squeezing Dara's forearm a bit.

"Of course Carla, I'm coming."

Dara smiled faintly when Billie kissed her cheek and Gemma was quick to replace her, helping with the moving part towards the living room. As the day has gone by, Dara was feeling drained because all of the come and go had strained a bit her bad leg, and not even her cane was enough to make her feel steady.

Billie didn't want to leave her side, but playing nice with Dara's mother was important at this moment. She always felt there was some kind of separation with Dara's family and her, and she wanted to close that stranger gap. Sometimes she felt like they all were waiting for Billie to dump Dara and it was unnerving, to be fair, making her guts twist uncomfortably.

When she passed by the living room, Deirdre and Diana were talking with their father in spanish, the tone of their voices one of mockery yet exasperation because probably it wasn't the first time they helped him with the whole device. Cedric, Dahlia's father, was talking with Benjamin and Berto on the couch, while Abraham was getting glasses from a cabinet. The whole living room was getting cozy in someway, a kind of warmth Billie wasn't used to but she found herself not minding at this point...even enjoying it.

Everything was really different from her own childhood home.

Bruno gave Billie a warm smile when Carla and her got in the kitchen, tapping slightly with his hand the side table there to the rhythm of the song that was now playing in the background softly. There was still food in the counters, waiting to be fully cold and be stored in the fridge, but also there was a plate and a glass aside that made Billie recall that Dara's little sister, Dayanara, wasn't around yet.

"Is Dayanara coming home soon?" asked Billie after being told where were the stuff for coffee.

"Yeah, she called a few minutes ago, said in forty-five she'll be here," Carla chirped, turning on the stove so she could put the coffee pot and a kettle to heat up. "Daya's been working too many extra shifts this week, my poor baby."

"For a week that her sister is here, she should have stick with her usual schedule," rumbled Bruno, playing with a piece of paper that was over the side table.

"Ay papá, you know how she is, she just want to be better and be a good nurse, and that takes a lot of hard work," Carla gave Billie some cups and gestured her where the little spoons were. Dara had the same hand gestures as her mother, she noted.

"All I'm saying is that we barely have Anita here, demonios."

"Dara understands that Dayanara is working hard, she's the happiest as long as they can have some time together," interceded Billie after retrieving the spoons, leaving them in the tray they were getting ready. "But…" she looked over her shoulder before lowering her voice, a bit worried. "I feel like Dara thinks Dayanara is avoiding her or something."

And it wasn't a lie, to be honest. Dara did commented on it one of the days late at night, when they were lying awake because of the heat, and Billie easily picked up to what her girl was saying the next morning. She was always good at picking up the behaviour of the rest, even when sometimes was harder, thanks to her own gift and just by how Dayanara turned down every plan Dara had proposed to her, well, what else could be said.

However, Billie didn't drop the comment that innocently. If something was up, maybe a push in the right direction would give her some pointers about why everyone seemed so uneasy since they arrived. It wasn't only a thing of that day, Billie had been picking up the weirdness in the family little by little and decided to keep it to herself so Dara could enjoy their time there.

Maybe today was just too much, overall after seeing how Dara had reacted upon having that Benjamin guy over dinner with them all.

"No, no, no, she's just busy," even when Carla's voice was a bit happy-go-lucky, Bruno's scowl said that there was something else behind. "And tired, that's all."

Carla still didn't know how stubborn could Bullie get, unfortunately, let alone when Dara was involved. She needed to cut everything by the root the moment it started to bother her girl, she didn't make the rules.

"Well, you can lie to her all you want," Billie said, a match lightening inside her chest, while pushing the kitchen's door to shut it close. "And she's going to let you if she noticed, but not me. What's going on?" she asked it with the voice she usually used on set. "Since the second that guy was in her view, Annie's been all shook up, and I don't like that because we're supposed to be on vacation, away from any headache."

Billie didn't miss how Bruno looked at her, a proud glint in his eyes, when she crossed her arms under her chest and looked at Carla with all the courage she had gathered up in a matter of seconds.

God bless coffee for being so slow to be brewed.

"You can't tell my daughter about it, okay?" Fucking bingo, thought Billie when Carla finally gave in, looking at her to get a nod in response. "Did she talk to you about Benjamin before?" Negative, Billie shook her head. "He's her ex-boyfriend...and he's now dating Dayanara."

…

Dara had her eyes closed, trying to focus in how her father's heart beat, all while listening to him hum along the song that was currently playing.

They managed to get the music going and she was just too tired, hoping that Billie could free herself from her mother's hands soon, but her father had pulled her to dance with him.

She couldn't say no and she preferred to be occupied with something instead of leaving room to Benjamin to talk to her again. Dara was still trying to wrap her head around why he was there and, as much as she wanted, there was something buried deep inside her chest that stopped her from start a third degree interrogatory right away.

“...Y si en sueños pudiera volar, yo llegaría hasta ti,” her dad started to actually sing and Dara smiled, still her eyes closed. “Para entonces hacerte escuchar, lo que nunca te pude decir…” Dara giggled when he switched to humming again and it drew a low laugh from Jeziel.

“¿Ya te olvidas de tus canciones favoritas, viejito?” she asked in a mumble, letting herself be held better by her father. At times, more often than not these days, she missed the feeling of protectiveness being in his arms gave her.

“Ya sabes que nunca las aprendí del todo mami,” Jeziel smiled and kissed the back of her head, still swaying to the rhythm of the ballad.

“So lucky mommy loves you, you’re such a romantic,” she shook her head and tightened her hug.

“Sometimes I think she still loves me because I’m strong enough to move stuff around, like, I still got the guns and all,” Dara felt her father flex his arms a bit, making her roll her eyes because he still called his muscles like that. She felt how her father left his hand in her hair, carefully brushing her soft locks. “I like when you let your hair grow, makes me remember when you were home.”

Maybe that was why she didn’t like it, because it made her remember of all the things she didn’t want to relive, but sometimes she kept postponing going to the hairdresser when she was too busy and her head too full of thoughts. Which was kinda why it was getting longer these days without her caring much about it.

Spying through her eyelashes, she looked right at Benjamin, who was one of the reasons of why she did things differently these days.

“It makes me remember home as well,” Dara mumbled, hiding from her father that they remembered different things. “But I probably cut it once I’m back.”

“Ay no, mi niña, espérese a después de mi cumpleaños,” Jeziel pressed his hand a bit on Dara’s head, chuckling in that warm way he had. “Deme ese pequeño regalo, siempre te viste linda con tu pelito largo.”

“Okay, okay,” Dara sighed a laugh and looked at her father in the eyes finally, kissing his cheek fondly. Two months more of having long hair, she could do it...she thought. “But that’s your gift and that’s it, no more,” it wasn’t like a Dara had her father’s gift bought five months prior or else. “And you have to promise to make your chocolate cake for only us two and have a Rush Hour marathon...mojitos included.”

“None haggle like you, Anita,” Jeziel kissed her daughter’s forehead with love and tenderness. “You got a deal, but do you think Billie likes Rush Hour? Maybe we can let her have some cake and mojitos too.”

If Dara felt still uneasy, having her father to express curiosity and even show initiative towards Billie was a direct shot to her heart. Since the moment she told them she was dating Billie, her family except for her grandfather, Darziel and Gemma had been a bit...hesitant towards her. That in...seven years she didn’t show up much didn’t help her case, but she was taking steps forward and that seemed to have helped Dara’s family to also get interested, to want to get involved.

And that was the only thing Dara ever wanted since she knew she wanted to be with Billie as long as possible.

“Who do you think watch shitty movies with me back in Los Angeles? Dahlia?” that made father and daughter laugh, because Dahlia hated movies like those. “Billie sticks with me every time I get int-”

“Perdón,” Benjamin’s voice cut the father-daughter moment like a hot knife over butter. “¿Puedo...bailar con Ana, señor Jeziel?”

Dara felt her father’s hesitation in the way he didn’t stop from holding her, like he used to do when they were dating, and then the soft look in his face. Dara was the one between her siblings that resembled his father the most, her mother always joking that even as a days-old-baby she could pick point her from a bunch of other babies easily. So Jeziel got back the soft look he was giving, the permission Benjamin was asking for being given by his own daughter in the form of a tiny kiss on the cheek before his daughter turned around in his arms to put both her hands in the man’s shoulders.

His attention was drawn, however, by Eva wanting to dance with her grandfather and Dara was left with the source of her stress, who was trying to just mimic the way Jeziel was holding her daughter seconds ago.

Dara felt her body react like a ghost of what she was once. Forearms over Benjamin’s shoulders with her hands intertwined, Benjamin’s hands folded in her lower back and both looking into each other eyes with dozens of nights, days, noons spent together being there like a faint memory.

It felt like they were seventeen again.

Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two and their love stronger than ever...yet they both were there, thirty-two and sharing space after ten years since the last time they touched each other, seven years since the last time they heard each other’s voices.

“I was being sincere back there, you still look beautiful,” it was a shy approach from him but Dara thanked it the same, because she was a bit speechless. “Thought a bit skinnier than I remember.”

“All my baby fat finally went from everywhere to my thighs and tits, what can I say? Still got some in my hands, though,” Dara couldn’t help but feel a tiny fire in her chest, full knowing Benjamin was picking at her and falling, making him laugh. “But I was sincere too, Min, you look nice even when I feel you’re wearing someone else’s skin.”

“Well...I thought it was time to make a big change once and for all, look nice and sharp, y’know?” that face that she once found so kissable didn’t change, the soft smirk on his lips, the rise and fall of his eyebrows. “Lena dragged my ass so hard after getting out that I kinda indulged in some brother-sister bonding time that ended up with me looking like one of these modern kids.”

“Your little sister won’t ever change...nor you do; she says ‘go’ and you say ‘where’,” Dara rolled her eyes at hearing, once again, her ex-sister-in-law’s antics. “How are you handling everything?”

Dara didn’t want to address the elephant in the room so soon, but it was better this way now that he kind of mentioned it. She felt her voice soften because six and a half years in jail wasn’t something easy to talk about, Benjamin’s features softening as well.

“It’s weird, not gonna lie in here, but these months are teaching me new things...and also making me think about some others,” he made that tiny gesture with his nose that indicated his cheek was itching and Dara’s hand went there to ease him, leaving it now in his shoulder while her other arm circled his neck. “Can you believe Godo approached me?”

That was something that ignited her from the pit of her stomach, raw anger destroying whatever coherent thing she was about to say and going full protection mode.

“Min, don’t te-”

“I spit on his feet the second he was a meter from me, your father and your uncle saw me,” Dara felt Benjamin reassuringly caressing her lower back with his thumbs. “I’m not going back Ana, I’m trying to do something meaningful with my life...not going back with those that left me behind,” his smile was sad and full of hurt and all the anger that Dara was feeling settled in uneasiness. “You were always right, I still don’t know how you put up with all of it...and I’m sorry what it did to you, to us.”

Those words were ten years late, still made her heart ache with all the resentment she never managed to wash away.

“Someone had to protect you,” Dara shrugged, Benjamin taking her hand in his and pressing it in his chest, against where his heartbeat was going steady and where he had tattooed the same moon as Dara had under her right collarbone. Dara knew her ex was feeling her rings, her crooked fingers from a handful of times she broke them in a street fight when they were younger. “And I’m not drunk enough to have this full conversation, Min...not that I can get wasted now, anyway, mix of pills I became.”

“Viejita te me volviste,” Benjamin didn’t seem to mind that Dara didn’t want to follow that conversation, but both knew someday they’d have it and they were okay with that for the time being.

“It’s not my fault this house became like an animal shelter, okay? My allergy skyrocketed in between Diana and her cats, Deirdre and her dog, my parents with Zeus...santo niño Jesús, give me a rest,” it wasn’t that Dara hated animals, she loved them in fact, but her allergy to animal fur...not goodie at all. “If my leg wasn’t acting up like a bitch, I would give the vodka a try,” she chuckled at that and a voice in her head nagged her because she also took one more of those. “But we have what we have.”

“It’s okay with me as long it’s okay with you,” Benjamin looked troubled for a second. “When my mother told me about the accident, it scared the shit out of me...watching you with that cane didn’t help to put me at ease at all.”

Two years had passed since the car accident but some days Dara still recalled it as if it was yesterday.

“Rehabilitation wasn’t enough, the limp will always be there as an effect, but I do prefer the limp over not having leg at all,” it was a too hardcore way to put it, but Dara always was direct like that. “Shit happens, Min.”

“I know but…” the hurt in his eyes was much deeper than Dara could think. “The thought of you alone in a hospital bed...it hunts me at times.”

Dara felt that last sentence like a glitch in the somewhat calm moment, deafening her for a second and her eyes straying from Benjamin’s face to where the kitchen door was opening, her mother, her grandfather and Billie coming back with the coffee, tea and whatever her mother was also getting ready. She kept swaying with Min but her whole skeleton wanted to escape, to take Billie by her hand and go upstairs, hide in the room and forget this night by drowning herself in between her lover’s thighs...as vulgar as that sounded.

“I wasn’t alone,” her voice was so faint that it hurted somehow. “Billie watched over me, she never left my side.”

While saying that Dara saw Billie freeze halfway to the living room’s table, locking eyes with her. Billie’s expression resembled a deer caught in the headlights and somehow the sensation of getting away from Benjamin got worse, as if his mere contact was like embers. Dara silently looked at her in search of an answer of sorts, Billie opening and closing her mouth ever so slightly and looking away from her.

Was that tea in her hands?

“Your partner, yeah,” Dara couldn’t tell what kind of feeling Benjamin wanted to convey, her own emotions building up, overwhelmed. Mockery, sadness, resentment, knowledge, she didn’t know, she didn’t want to know. “The ultra nice blondie, with the medium thing going. Your mother told me about her. If I didn’t know you better, I would have thought she was having a fling with you or something.”

Billie wanted to break the cup of tea in her hands against Benjamin’s head, that was for sure, but right in that moment she was a bundle of mixed feelings after what Carla had told her in the privacy of the kitchen.

She had seen Dara dancing with Nora multiple times, even hummed along the song they were dancing to, but it didn’t wake up the same feeling that the image in front of her was at the moment. She truly wanted to have the strength to pick up Dara in her arms, going full bridal style and take her upstairs, or somewhere entirely else to drown in being the two of them alone. There was no cigarette able to calm her right now, not even one of Audrey’s joints would help at all.

But there was something in Dara, the way her face was one of pure pain and surprise at the same time, that didn’t sit right. She seemed to be withdrawing from Benjamin as the seconds passed by and Billie’s eyes went to how the rest didn’t seem to notice the change in Dara at all.

It was then when the front door opened, keys clinking muffled thanks to the music, and the last Lynch arrived at the house.

No, this can’t be.

She thought that with her heart twisting in her chest painfully, seeing how Dayanara looked as mortified as Benjamin apparently but being more subtle about it. Billie didn’t need to read minds to know that Dayanara perfectly knew her boyfriend didn’t say shit to her sister or the rest did. They were all acting normal and her face showed clearly how tired, angered and confused she was. Billie felt Bruno by her side, taking from her hands the cup of tea she had ready for Dara, and leaving it over the table while letting his free hand to rest in the middle of her back. A silent support, she supposed.

“Daya!” Carla was trying too hard to cover her own surprise by being happy about her arrival. “I’ll heat you up some food, go get change and-”

“Mamá, por favor, cállate,” Billie didn’t need to understand spanish to fully know what was said by how Dayanara pinched the bridge of her nose after pulling up in her head her glasses, leaving her bag over a chair. She was still wearing her nurse uniform. “I’m too tired to handle this right now but I’m going to rip off the band-aid once and for all, and fuck everything.”

“What’s going on?” it wasn’t ‘what are you talking about?’ what came from Dara’s lips and Billie already expected her to say that because as much as she liked to be direct, Dara only asked for the same at the end of the day.

“Benji and I have been dating for four months, that’s what’s going on,” Billie felt herself shiver at how similar Dara and Dayanara’s features were when angry. “I wanted to tell you right away, talk to you face to face, but between both being busy and all...well, I expected to tell you after dinner today. Thought he was going to start the conversation since I got stuck at work, but it seems he didn’t.”

The tension in the living room was heavier than how it was at the Montgomery’s mansion, Billie starting to feel a soft static tickling her skin as if it was some kind of warning that everything could go to shit from one second to another.

Dara wasn’t going to explode as her family thought, right?

That was what Carla told her in the kitchen, the motive behind why they all had been hiding all of that from her. Carla told her that Dara would get angry and messy upon knowing that her ex was dating her little sister, but Billie had stepped forward to counter that, tell her...mother-in-law that Dara was pretty down on Earth and calm upon facing any kind of issue, always working her way through it with a control that even her wished to have.

Darziel looked between his older sisters, worried sick, while Deirdre and Diana looked to each other first and then to both Dayanara and Dara, as if they were going to get into a fight or something. Dayanara stood where she was, like an immovable force, but Dara…

...Billie never saw Dara so defenceless.

However, that defencelessness went away the moment Dara smiled brightly at her little sister, throwing off everyone in the room with the force of an earthquake.

“That’s...God, Daya!” Dara laughed and walked towards her little sister, who noticed right away how she was limping heavier and met her halfway, getting hugged in the process. “I’m so happy for you two! Now it makes sense that he’s here,” Dara flickered her fingers towards Benjamin. “It was my fault for not coming home earlier so we could talk, don’t worry,” then she looked at her mother before taking her cane, which was resting against the table, before lacing her fingers with Dayanara’s. “Let’s get you some food and you can tell me some details, if it’s okay with you.”

Annie, what are you doing? Billie wanted to scream that on top of her lungs, confused as she was, while the rest of the house seemed to start breathing at ease upon seeing such reaction from her. Bruno did seem to think the same as her, but there was something in his eyes that told Billie this kind of reaction wasn’t a one time thing.

“It...is,” Dayanara was getting back from the shock, nodding and starting to walk along Dara towards the kitchen. “We can always talk more over breakfast.”

“Of course, of course,” Dara chuckled and leant to kiss her sister’s temple with love. “Gossip over pancakes, best gossip, right?”

Billie didn’t care how Jeziel seemed to stop Benjamin from following them, didn’t care that the rest went back to their things, didn’t care when Bruno led her towards the couch so they could sit together and monopolize it.

But she did care about how Dara had gone, somehow, where Billie was still both too afraid and too confused to follow her.

...

When a nausea wave hit her once again, making her empty whatever was left at that point in her stomach, Dara thanked to her five-minutes-past self to have opened the shower to make the most background noise possible.

It wasn’t weird at all that someone got showered at the wee hours of the night in the house at summer, so she saved her own ass with that.

For sure heat didn’t help at all, she thought as she put a hand over her sweaty forehead, waiting in case she threw up again. Not that there was something else left but bile, but who knew what her body was going to decide. She laughed to herself, thinking in how in other scenery that could make her go bananas and think she was pregnant or something, instead of just having such anxiety attack like the one she was having in that very same moment.

God, sometimes her mind went to some weird places in those situations.

Drenched in sweat as she was, she made a quick work by flossing the toilet and get in the shower after peeling off her pajamas, taking advantage that it was already turned on. Cold water made her feel better, settling little by little the hole her anxiety was craving in her stomach. With tears pushing for freedom in her eyes, Dara tried to think about anything else to calm her racing mind. Like how everyone had decided stay at the house, how funny it looked the way Deirdre and Diana managed to both get the sofa-bed and their husbands took the cold hard floor by their side. Darziel, Gemma and Eva slept in Darziel’s room, the girls taking the bed while he threw some pillows to the floor and built a nest-like bed for him. Dayanara and Benjamin went to Daya’s room and Dara’s mind made a double spin to avoid thinking more about that.

She was glad Billie and her got the tiny guest room-made-office for themselves.

Wrapping her hair in a towel and drying herself enough to get back in her clothes, Dara made her new task be brush her teeth the best she could. She had rinsed her mouth several times before going down to the kitchen to get some water, her throat still burning, but the stupid bad taste didn’t seem to go away. Dara went through the fridge to get some juice instead, and when she found one she actually didn’t like much - she wasn’t risking her favourites to get ruined because of this - she sat there with the window open, drinking right from the bottle while getting some fresh air to clear her head.

In her head everything seem to go really fast, almost disorganized, but whoever watched her from the outside could clearly see how slow and careful she was moving.

She was the best at pretending everything was fine, to hold it in until she was alone to let it all flow, but having a full house didn’t help her at all. And of course this wasn’t some stupid argument between her siblings or with her mother, so it only got worse from then on. Dara wasn’t having an anxiety attack because it overwhelmed her the news per se, but because she was reliving all the memories from her time by Benjamin so hard that made her want to slap some sense into Dayanara, tell her to break up with him and find her someone in Los Angeles, someone probably better under her own point of view…

...but what was the point, after all.

Nothing Dara could say would make her sister change her opinion and she didn’t want to influence her in anyway possible, because her own experience didn’t have to be her sister’s right?

Ten years had passed, ten fucking years! Whatever she knew about Benjamin was literally thrown away into the garbage can because she didn’t know that man anymore, how he was now, how he acted now, his aspirations, whatever.

She only knew the ghost of what he was once...and it was the other way around as well.

The way he talked about Billie didn’t help him at all, the rejection was immediate as if he had slapped instead of throwing around some stupid words. If I didn’t know you better, I would have thought she was having a fling with you or something. Dara had to close her eyes because the nausea was about to hit her again, that or an unstoppable flood of tears. It felt wrong hearing that, as if Dara herself was nothing but a game for someone like Billie. How could he even dare to tell her that when he didn’t have the balls to tell her that he was dating Dayanara? He didn’t know her at all, for God’s sake!

So fucking horrible, wasn’t it?

Dara’s eyes wandered around the kitchen, trying to tone down the awful feeling in her chest by focusing in the kitchen of her childhood. All she could see was a time that she wasn’t happy...and she wasn’t thinking about being five to ten and running around with the laugh of her grandparents as music, she was thinking of her teens, her early twenties and how one day she packed all she had in the middle of the night, took her shitty ass car - that would get wrecked eight years later in the accident - and drove all the way to Los Angeles to take a wild chance on life.

A leap of faith that made her feel she still had something to do in life.

Her eyes finally landed in the only light bright enough to make a difference in the somewhat dark kitchen aside the fridge one and Dara’s stomach churned. They will always have landline, till the end of times, she thought while hobbling to take the wireless phone. Navigating through the agenda, Dara felt immediately guilty about what she was about to do but she needed to talk with someone that wasn’t in the mess at all.

Or that she hoped.

She knew well, deep inside, that she had had to wake up Billie for that but she didn’t have the heart to do so when her partner managed to get a hold of a night of sleep. Even more when it took several glasses of rum to take her down completely. Dara didn’t want to think about the hangover her father, Billie and Berto would have upon waking up, her own stomach hurting even more for them. So her thumb pressed lightly the button to select the number in the agenda, letting herself to think once again if it was the right choice overall.

Dara, while pressing the phone against her ear and sitting back in the chair, made a mental note to live a fifty dollars bill in her mother’s purse later in the morning.

“¿Abuelo?” the sleepy and heavy accented voice of a woman sounded in the other side of the line. “Ah...no.” was the only thing Dara managed to croak in response and the woman sighed heavily, whoever was by her side grumbling something in their sleep. “¿Tata Carla? ¿Qué lo que pasó? Incluso para usted es temprano.” the woman seemed to start functioning and Dara choked on an incoming sob because she didn’t want to overworry her. “It’s me, Dara, sorry for waking you up so early,” that seemed to restart the woman, whose voice was pure confusion now. “Dara? What are you doing calling me from your parents’? What are you doing even there?” sometimes Dara forgot that her cousin was a bit out of touch of everything, so it wasn’t something new to see that she didn’t read the family group chat. “I’m on vacation here...but I was calling you because…” Dara felt the uncomfortable warmth of tears in her cheeks and she couldn’t help but sniff a bit to hold another sob, even when her voice broke. “I don’t know Dani, I needed someone to talk with I guess,” Dara pressed her free hand, which was shaking, against her own chest. “But if I’m bothering you I can call later, I know it’s stupid, you should probably go back to sleep...You must be tired from work and all, I’m so-” Being shushed by Danielle wasn’t harsh, but it was what Dara needed to start crying a bit harder. “You won’t ever be a bother, not even if you tried, so don’t apologize. Just let me get down to the kitchen to not wake Bastien, okay? Take some deep breaths, mon mimi.”

Dara only managed to whisper an ‘okay’ while pressing her wrist to her eyes, trying to stop her about to be runny nose to do as she was told. She tried to focus on her breathing, but her throat still itched and hurt, so imagine the mess. Muffling her coughs against her forearm, Dara instead tried to focus in whatever sound Danielle was making in the other side of the line while her tears ran freely down her cheeks.

She was also repeating herself there, because ten years had passed too since before leaving her parents’ house forever she called her oldest cousin to get some sort of support. Twenty-two to twenty-nine, thirty-two to thirty-nine, the only thing that had changed was that her cousin didn’t have a two years old baby anymore but a twelve years old girl that probably didn’t remember Dara that well and that Danielle’s beautiful black mane was getting too many white hairs too soon.

“Okay, I’m here,” Danielle’s voice was gentle and warm. “You want to tell me before, after or in between the crying?”

Dara decided the last option because, as always, it was the best to get as much as she could out of her chest.

…

Billie didn’t know how she got downstairs alive, but she did it somehow without breaking her neck.

Maybe it wasn’t that good of idea getting hammered with her father-in-law and brother-in-law last night, probably not her best performance, but what was done, done was. Rubbing her eyes a bit and not getting her hand smudged with make-up - Dara probably removed it when she was asleep or she convinced her drunk ass to do it somehow - was a good start, but overhearing the cheery voices coming from the television gave her headache an uncomfortable push.

How late did she wake up? Not that they had much to do, anyway, but oversleeping was hard in her in-law’s house. Her eyes went to the clock over the kitchen door, the bright red numbers telling her right away that it was midday. That sobered her up a bit, but what actually made her react was realizing the living room wasn’t that illuminated.

The curtains were almost closed except for a crack, enough to cast light over where Bruno was reading the newspaper. Her eyes then went to the television, some cartoon movie playing for Ezra, Eduardo and Evan, who were behaving themselves pretty well for being what probably was the hour when their energy should be at its peak, and then Billie discovered why they were so quiet aside of trying not to bother their great-grandfather morning reading.

Dara was there in the couch with them, long as she was, and the boys were sitting there too in a way that Billie didn’t know how could any of the four of them could be comfortable, except for maybe Eduardo that was lying over Dara, with his head in her chest. Evan and Ezra were sitting in between her legs, their tiny ones draped over Dara’s right leg as if it was some kind of a leg-rest or something. The funniest part was that Dara was heavy asleep, making Billie to think if maybe the heat didn’t let her sleep last night and was making up for it now.

That or maybe the stress from yesterday hit her like a truck.

“Morning,” Billie mumbled, raising her hand. The boys waved at her and Bruno looked up from his newspaper, all in silence. “Where’s everyone?”

“Jeziel and Berto in the kitchen, trying to get breakfast before my daughter comes from getting groceries with Deirdre, Diana and Eva,” explained Bruno without raising his voice much. “Abe, Daya and motor-kid to work, papito God knows where with Gemita.”

“Oh, okay,” Billie got closer to Dara and she leant with care to kiss her forehead and cheek with love, only getting a soft comfortable hum in response and making Billie lick her lips a bit, refraining herself to kiss her in the lips but noticing something along the way, like some kind of saltiness in Dara’s skin that Billie only blamed to sweating too much. “She must be really tired, I didn’t see her sleep so soundly in a while.”

“Must be, dear,” and with that, Bruno got back to his reading, the kids never getting their attention drawn from the film. “Go get some pancakes before they butchered them all, Anita made them.”

She obeyed without much thought, her brain still fuzzy with the hangover, but when she sat with coffee and the last two pancakes in the tray by the men in the kitchen table everything felt a bit more homier. It was the first day Dara wasn’t getting breakfast with her, who always was the one saving her from the morning chatter, but she was lucky enough to share breakfast with the other two hangover people in the house...so she got some quiet time sprinkled with some ‘pass me this’ or ‘pass me that’.

Nonetheless, the quietness of the morning helped her greatly to finally think about what could she get Dara for their seventh anniversary.

And she really hoped that her gift, along a pretty deserved night only the two of them, could make Dara feel a bit better and take her mind off the whole mess that ensued last night in the very same living room she was sleeping so peacefully in.

#billie dean howard x original character #dara ann lynch #billie dean howard #original character #ahs hotel #ahs murder house #american horror story

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trulymadlysydney · 5 years

Text

Somewhere In Time: One

“Time is the most undefinable yet paradoxical of things; the past is gone, the future is not come, and the present becomes the past even while we attempt to define it, and, like the flash of lightning, at once exists and expires.”

-- Charles Caleb Colton.

**Please do not repost without permission***

4:37pm, December 31st, 1999

“Thank you so much for coming in, and happy new year!”

The bells above the door of the book shop jingle as the last of the day’s customers exit, simultaneously allowing a gust of cold wind to fill the front of the small building. Twenty-six year old Roni Elliot smiles cheerfully until the customer has disappeared out of sight, at which point she lets out a long, labored sigh. “That’s the last of ‘em, Eileen.”

An older woman appears from around the corner of a row of bookshelves, carrying a stack of books in her arms that she had been in the process of returning to their rightful spots. “Finally. Thought they’d never leave. It’s New Years Eve, for heaven’s sake, what are they doing here?” The look on her face makes Roni giggle, but Eileen means every word that comes out of her mouth.

Roni knows the closing routine well, and immediately goes to lock up the shop without even being asked. “We could ask ourselves the same question, you know.”

Eileen scoffs, scanning the title of the top book in her arms and placing it on a shelf. She doesn’t say anything, but the smile on her face informs Roni that she’s not as grumpy as she seems. She never is really, and at this point, Roni is used to her moods.

Roni adores Eileen. Her bark is worse than her bite, and Roni has become well acquainted with said bark. But Eileen loves Roni just as much, and although she struggles to express it, Roni knows Eileen would do anything for her.

The quiet doesn’t last long, as Roni knew it wouldn’t. Eileen is immediately launching into a story about her younger sister and how careless she is. Roni offers what little advice she can give on the situation while she sits and sorts through the box of used book donations, piling them all into different categories so they’ll be easier to place on the shelves.

“I’ve told her several times, ‘you can’t keep putting this off, Debby’ but she never listens to me. And I said to her, ‘Debby,’ I said, ‘what are you going to do when Richard passes?’ But she insists she’s too young to think about that just yet.” Eileen laughs. “I’m sixty-nine years old but at least I’ve got this store to my name. And what does Debby have?”

“You’re sixty-nine?” Roni teases. “Eileen, why didn’t you tell me? You don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Oh stop that. I’m being genuine, Veronica.”

Roni loves working in the bookshop. She finds comfort among the used books; the smell of old pages strangely familiar and welcoming. She’s been at this job since 1995, and she can’t seem to pull herself away from it all these years later. She’s grown too attached to Eileen, to the old books with the ripped spines and the dog-eared pages. It’s a family owned shop, opened in 1920 by Eileen’s grandmother, Louise. Eileen had grown up in this shop, eventually taking it over when her own mother passed, and in a way Roni feels as though she also grew up here.

Yellowing photographs cover the walls, some dating all the way back to the shop’s opening. Pictures of Louise with early patrons, pictures of past employees, and even a few family pictures that have nothing to do with the shop are all lined along the walls, yellowing with age and curling at the corners. Louise was a beautiful woman, and some of her photos look eerily like young photos of Eileen. Roni often finds herself scanning the pictures on the walls, asking Eileen to tell her about some of the people photographed. But Roni’s favorite picture is one that hangs in the back corner of the shop.

The photo is dated 1965, and features a freckle-faced little twelve year old girl with pigtails, standing beside her bicycle--the basket of said bicycle filled to the brim with science books. The little girl was none other than Roni’s own mother, Tanya, and Roni gets a pang of both joy and sadness every time she looks at it. According to Eileen, who was thirty-five at the time of the photograph, Tanya used to ride her bike to the shop every Friday-- because Friday was when she got her weekly allowance-- and purchase as many books as she could carry. It’s a story Roni’s heard thousands of times, but one she never gets tired of hearing.

“And of course her children will never come in here to see me.” Roni is only half-heartedly listening to Eileen, who is still ranting about Debby. “I helped her raise those kids when Richard was away and, and for what? They’re all grown now and all they care about are those darn computers.”

Eileen had never had children of her own, but she’d grown fond of Tanya and her frequent visits. She was one of the first to hear about Tanya’s pregnancy with Roni, and one of the first to offer up help when Roni’s father left without a word. When Tanya had passed, Roni had gone to live with her own grandmother, but she’d always considered Eileen a grandmother as well. It was an unspoken bond between the two of them; one that even Roni sometimes struggled finding the words to explain.

“It’s a shame,” Eileen’s voice brings Roni out of her own head once again, and she feels bad for zoning out. “Nowadays the young folks just don’t appreciate books like they used to.”

Roni sighs, feeling an almost pang of guilt at Eileen’s words. It’s a conversation they’ve had multiple times, and no matter what, Roni is never quite sure how to respond. She speaks up, placing a donated book into the “romance” pile. “There are still kids out there who love books.”

“Have you seen one person in here under the age of 30 today, Veronica?”

Eileen makes a point, but Roni is nothing if she isn’t positive. “They’re just busy preparing for their New Years Eve parties tonight.”

“And then after the parties, where will they be?”

Roni smirks, thumbing mindlessly through an autobiography before throwing it into its own pile. “Hungover.”

Eileen shakes her head, but Roni’s words coax a smile onto her face. “I don’t know, honey. It just doesn’t seem promising.”

Roni halts her movements, glancing over to where Eileen sits. Eiileen looks sad, and it weighs heavy on Roni’s heart. So roni sighs, offering a warm smile. “Heyyy,” she says softly. “You’ll see. 2000 is going to be a good year. I’ll make sure of it. I have plans for this place!”

“I’ve had plans for this place since I was six years old!. But everything keeps changing, and kids don’t care.”

“You’ve got to work on being more positive, girl.” Roni rises to her feet and gathers the pile of romance books. “Maybe this Y2K nonsense will only wipe out all the kids obsessed with technology. And then the only people left will be all the young people with old souls like you and me.”

Eileen laughs again. “Ohh stop that,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Speaking of all that, shouldn’t you be home getting ready? I’m sure you’ve got some exciting plans tonight.”

Roni raises her voice to be heard better, now speaking from the back corner of the shop where the romance section is located. “Oliver and I are having a party. Couple of friends. Nothing special.”

“Oliver,” Eileen repeats, as if trying to jog her memory as to who Oliver is. “That boyfriend of yours still treating you well?”

Roni has been with Oliver since she was sixteen years old, ten years ago, and in the entire five years she’s worked here, Eileen has asked that same question at least once a week. “Yeah, he’s totally great. We’re still like, really happy.”

“Well, good. You make sure he puts a ring on your finger before any funny business though. You don’t want any babies you aren’t ready for.”

Roni snorts quietly to herself. “Don’t worry, Eileen. There won’t be any of that any time soon.”

“See to it that there isn’t.”

It’s quiet for the next few moments, with Eileen closing down the cash register and Roni placing books back on their shelves. She glances up at the pictures that she’s grown so familiar with on the walls. Sometimes she likes to make up stories for each, imagining their entire family line, what they do for work, where they’re from.

There’s the larger woman in the picture dated 1987, smiling and laughing with her eyes closed beside a man with a thick gray mustache. There’s the picture of the boy in the newsboy cap, dated 1924, standing beside a stack of books that’s taller than him, grinning at the camera with a dimpled smirk. And then there’s a picture of Roni and Eileen, dated 1996- just one year after Roni started working here. Eileen is giving Roni a stern yet amused look, with a hint of a smile tugging on her cheeks, while Roni is giving the camera a goofy, mid-laugh smile. It’s one of Roni’s favorite pictures ever, and one of these days she swears she’ll get a copy of her own to frame.

“Veronica, dear.” Roni doesn’t know how much time has passed when Eileen catches her attention once more. “Why don’t you go on ahead and get out of here? I can finish this up.”

“What? No, I’m not gonna leave you--”

“Oh, honey. You know I can handle this on my own. You go on home, get your party all set up for tonight. Don’t worry about me.”

Roni appears from around the shelves, subconsciously playing with the rings on her fingers. “But don’t you need to get out of here, too? You’ve gotta have some party plans tonight.”

Eileen laughs “The only plans I’ve got for tonight are to go home, cook myself some dinner, go to bed, and wake up in a brand new millennium.”

“If we make it that long!” Roni teases, eyes widening in a jokingly scared face. “You know Y2K is gonna take us all out.”

“Oh Veronica,” Eileen scoffs, “stop with that nonsense.” She swats at Roni’s behind as she passes, and Roni giggles. “You and I both know we’re going to wake up tomorrow and everything is going to be completely normal. We’re going to get one day to relax and then it’s back to work. Within a week no one will even remember any of this.”

Roni glances down at the mood ring on her finger, chewing absentmindedly at her chapped lips. She knows Eileen is probably right, but there’s a part of her that hopes she isn’t.

Still, this is not the time or the place to get into all of that. So she brushes it aside with a giggle. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve been around sixty-nine years, dear. They’ve predicted this more times than I can count on all my fingers and toes. If the world is going to end, I just hope she gets on with it. I’m tired.”

This time Roni laughs out loud. “Word,” she replies, beginning her final go-round of the little shop, making sure each aisle is neat and tidy. “But really, you sure you’re gonna be okay alone here?”

Roni hardly hears Eileen’s answer when she stops in the sci-fi section. She scans the book titles briefly before finding exactly what she’s looking for; the over-used copy of Black Holes and Time Warps: Einstein’s Outrageous Legacy by Kip S. Thorne.

With slow fingers, Roni gently slides the book from the shelf and runs her hand over the cover. She’s borrowed this book countless times, read it cover to cover so many times she could potentially recite it, and filled at least a hundred pages in her journal with notes not only from this novel, but several others as well. Some part of her mind tells her that it’s pointless to borrow this book yet again, as if she’s going to find something she hasn’t already seen. But the other part of her mind, the much louder and more prominent part, tells her to read it just one more time.

Just in case.

Roni takes a deep breath and walks up to where Eileen still stands closing the register. “Hey, Eileen?”

“Hm?” Eileen hardly even glances up at Roni from over her glasses.

“Would it be okay if I borrowed this book?”

This time, Eileen does look up, squinting over her glasses to read the title of the book before shooting Roni an incredulous look. “Again?”

“It’s my favorite!” It’s only partly a lie. “I just find it like, super fascinating, you know?”

“What exactly are you expecting to get from reading it hundreds of times?”

Roni bites her tongue, not daring to allow herself to tell Eileen what she really wants. “I’m not… expecting anything,” she lies. “I just think it’s dope.”

“Dope,” Eileen mocks, shaking her head with a laugh. She eyes Roni carefully, then lets out a sigh. “Alright, love, of course you can take it.”

Roni beams, surprisingly relieved although she’d known the entire time that Eileen would say yes. Eileen continues speaking as Roni heads towards the back room. “And stop using those slang words on me, Veronica, you know I don’t understand them.” Despite her words, she smiles, nodding her head towards the ‘Employees Only’ door. “Go on and get out of here, now. You’ve got a party to set up.”

“Eileen, you’re the bomb.” Now Roni’s just teasing her, and she blows Eileen a kiss that has her giggling.

It’s about ten minutes later when Roni is waving her final goodbye to Eileen and slipping out the door. It is windier than usual outside, and she pulls her jacket tightly around her shoulders, not at all looking forward to walking home in this cold. She glances up at the cloudy sky, which looks like it could snow at any moment, and lets out a sigh. As much as she loves her friends, she really hopes they don’t all get snowed in at her and Oliver’s house tonight.

Roni is so distracted by the sky and her own thoughts that she shrieks when she feels herself bump straight into another person. She blinks as she regains her balance, trying to make out the person in front of her.

It’s an old man she’s seen before on this street. Roni has never been sure if he’s homeless or crazy, but he’s always out here holding his signs and shouting about ‘the inevitable doom that will come if you don’t repent!” His current sign reads “Y2K: The End Is Near” in dripping red paint made to look-- very inaccurately-- like blood.

Roni lets out a sigh once her initial shock wears off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“The end is near!” The man shouts in Roni’s face, getting so close she can practically smell his breath. “We have hours to go, do you have a plan?”

Roni grimaces before sliding past the man to continue on her walk home. “Sorry, dude. My plan is to get shitfaced and fall asleep with my friends. Good luck with the protesting though.”

Although he makes no effort to chase after her, he continues yelling; the further Roni gets away the louder he becomes. “You’ll be sorry! When the world comes to complete and utter chaos and you’ve got nowhere to go, see if I help you!! The end is nearer than you think, and you will suffer the consequences, do you hear me?”

He continues yelling for what feels like an eternity, and when Roni is finally out of earshot she rolls her eyes. “Fuckin’ weirdo,” she mutters under her breath. With that, she walks a little bit faster, tucking her house key between her pointer and middle finger in order to feel a bit more safe.

----------

9:31pm, December 31st, 1924

“Styles! Get over here.”

Twenty-five year old Harry Styles groans, wiping his hands on the rag hanging from the back of his pants. He brushes his sweaty brow with the back of his wrist as he walks towards his supervisor, Frank Milton. “Sir?”

“What is this?” Frank shoves a leather shoe into Harry’s chest, and Harry has to take a moment to readjust himself so as to not fall over.

He glances down at the shoe, trying his hardest to find a problem with it. He sees his own reflection, a bit distorted in the shiny leather of the shoe. He flips it around to look at the sole-- perfectly in tact, and finally gives up, shrugging. “It’s a shoe.”

Frank scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head. “You’re joking. You’re absolutely joking.”

Harry glances around the factory. A few of his friends are keeping an eye on the situation, but for the most part, no one is paying much attention to him. He clears his throat. “It’s proper to my eyes, sir.”

“Proper.” Frank scoffs again, suddenly yanking the shoe from Harry’s hand and shoving it in his face. “Does this seem proper to you, Styles?”

The shoe almost hits Harry’s nose, and he can smell the fresh leather from how close Frank is holding it to his face. Harry squints, tilting his head back a bit so he can try and get a better idea as to what Frank could possibly be referring to. He scans the shoe once more, shaking his head slowly when he once again comes up short handed. “I don’t--”

“The throat line!” Frank throws the shoe with all of his might this time, and it lands harshly against Harry’s chest before plopping to the ground with a dull “plap” noise. Harry wants to reach up and rub at the spot on his chest that the shoe impacted, but now Frank has nearly everyone’s attention, and Harry doesn’t so much as dare to move. Frank takes a step closer to Harry, shoving his finger against the center of his chest. He’s so close now that Harry can feel his spit when he talks. “How many times have I told you to watch what you’re doing, Styles? Hm? How many?”

Harry can’t think of a proper answer, and he’s not sure whether or not this is a rhetorical question. More than anything, he wants to shove Frank’s finger off of his chest and show him exactly what he thinks of him. He could tell Frank off right here and now, in front of everyone, once and for all. Too many times has Frank gotten in Harry’s face over the most minuscule and trivial things. Too many times has Frank gotten too big for his britches and abused the power he had over these men in this factory. It drives Harry to near insanity, especially knowing that he could easily flip Frank over his shoulder and send him crashing to the ground (likely knocking him unconscious considering the concrete floor), without so much as breaking a sweat.

But Harry is one late bill away from having the power in his apartment completely shut off. Harry is one blanket short of being completely warm in his bed at night, especially come this time of year. And Harry only has about one meal left in his fridge to get him through till next payday. Which means he can’t afford to give Frank a piece of his mind.

So Harry clears his throat and gives him an answer. “Several.”

“Several times, Styles, and for what? For the throat line of our shoes to look like this?!” Frank gestures angrily at the shoe, now lying abandoned on the floor. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? How do we get it through your skull to watch what the fuck you’re doing?”

Harry won’t meet Frank’s eyes, and he’s certain that if he did he’d lose all control. The fact that every pair of eyes in the factory is on him has become painfully obvious, and Harry can feel the tips of his ears turning red. With every ounce of courage Harry can muster, he swallows his pride and bends down to retrieve the shoe. “I’m sorry, sir. If you’ll just give me another chance--”

Frank cuts him off with a jab of his knee into Harry’s side, successfully knocking off Harry’s balance and sending him to the ground. “Does the integrity of this brand mean nothing to you? Do deadlines just not matter in your world?”

On the one hand, Harry wants one of his mates to stand up for him. But on the other, he hates that they’re all there watching this happen. “Mr. Milton, I--”

“I have given you more than enough chances, Styles. And this?” He kicks the shoe towards Harry. “This is the way you repay me?”

“Mr. Milton--”

“I’ve had it, Styles. You’re finished here.”

The entire factory seems to fall silent at Frank’s words, and Harry lets out all of his breath in disbelief. The silence feels stuffy and hot, and Harry scans the entire room before glancing back up at Frank. Everything moves in slow motion, and not a single person in the room knows how to react.

Finally, Harry scoffs, shaking his head, and a bitter smile teases at the corners of his lips. Harry isn’t one to beg, especially not when he’s down on the ground like this, and as desperate as he is for money, there’s a small part of him that’s relieved. Harry closes his mouth, opens it again, glances around the room once more, and then smile’s a tongue-in-cheek smile up at Frank. “I don’t… know what to say, sir.”

“Get your things. I have nothing more to say to you.”

All eyes are on Harry when he lets out a long nasally sigh. He nods his head slowly before rising to his feet, taking the previously discarded shoe in his hand. Frank turns to walk away, but stops dead in his tracks when he hears Harry’s voice.

“I’m sure you don’t, Frank.”

Harry doesn’t move. He soaks up every ounce of the thickness in the room and uses it to fuel himself even more. When Frank finally does turn around on his heels, the look on his beet red face is almost enough to send Harry into a fit of laughter.

Almost, but not quite.

Frank takes a step towards Harry, intended to make him back down. Instead he only grins, causing Frank to raise his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well,” Harry says, nonchalantly turning the shoe in his hands, “Frank. It’s unfortunate you feel that way.” He glances up from under his lashes, completely unable to contain the smirk on his face. “Because I’ve got an awful lot to say to you.”

Harry steps forward, shoving the shoe right back into Frank’s chest before walking completely past him. He walks further into the factory, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “You think I’m going to lose any sleep over quitting this fuckin’ dump?”

“You watch your mouth, Styles.”

“The way you watch yours?” Harry raises his eyebrows challengingly, continuing his walk around the room. “The way you treat me--the way you’ve treated every single one of us for the last two years warrants no amount of respect from me, sir.”

Harry arrives at the machine of a coworker and pats him on the back. “Eddie, how long have you been here?”

Eddie hesitates, eyes darting nervously between Frank and Harry. “Uh,” he stammers. “Three… three years…”

Harry gasps, feigning shock. “Three years, huh? And in the amount of time that ol’ Frank has been in charge of this place, have you been acknowledged for your efforts and your devotion to this company? Even once?”

Eddie glances back at Frank, completely frozen and unsure of how to go about this situation. “Harry--”

Frank takes a step forward. “Mr. Styles, I will ask you one last time--”

“And you!” Harry walks over to another coworker, James, and nods his head at him. “Mr. Harrison, is your wife not, what, eight months pregnant?”

James clears his throat. “Nine.”

“Nine! Nine months pregnant! Well, congrats, old man. And over the last nine months, how many times has Frank allowed you to go home and be with your wife as she’s about to pop?”

“Styles, that is enough!” Frank’s voice is raised now, and Harry swears he sees steam rising from the old man’s bald head.

“It isn’t enough!” Harry shouts back. “It will never be enough, Frank, until you understand that what you’re doing is wrong. It’s slave labor, and its cruel. Have you offered Bill over there any compensation for the time he nearly sliced his finger clean off?”

“Harry--”

“Do you know why that happened? It’s because you had him here at four in the morning after you’d worked him till eleven at night the night before. It’s because you see your employees as money makers, not as people. It’s because Mr. Frank fucking Milton doesn’t have a single bone of compassion in his old, tired body. And everyone here knows I’m right.”

Frank now stands a few mere inches in front of Harry, but Harry doesn’t budge. He only grins. “And if you think that I’m not going to the proper authorities to report your sorry ass now that I don’t work for you anymore, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Frank lunges for Harry then, wrapping his arms around his torso and sending both of them toppling to the ground. He swings punches left and right with no proper aim, and although he does get a few good jabs in, Harry is stronger.

Harry grunts, rolling over so that Frank is the one on the ground. Frank is quick, however, blocking a few of Harry’s punches to his face. He’s spewing curse words that Harry’s not even sure he’s heard before, and the blind rage inside of Harry takes over his body completely. A year of being treated this poorly has done him in, he thinks, and he swears he could kill Frank if given the chance.

Harry hardly notices the complete chaos taking place around them as he and Frank rise to their feet to continue their brawl. Some of the men are cheering, others are trying to pull the men apart. Harry receives a solid sock to the eye that has him stumbling backwards, which he retaliates with a swift knee to Frank’s stomach. Frank groans, hunching over briefly, and Harry swears he’s got him now. He lunges forward, sending them both to the ground once again, and just begins swinging.

Harry feels he’s just getting warmed up, when he feels two pairs of arms grab him from behind to pull him away.

Harry tastes blood, and he reaches up to wipe at his now swollen eye, that he’s sure is going to be black and blue come morning. His absolute rage still hasn’t died down yet, although he’s fighting a losing battle now He kicks and wiggles, but his captors are stronger than him, dragging him towards the exit doors.

The last thing Harry sees before reaching the doors are a few of the men helping Frank stand upright. “Fuck you!” Harry spits. “And fuck this place! You’ll all be sorry, this place is going to crash and burn and I’ll be laughing while it happens! You’ll be begging me to come back, and--”

He’s cut off when he’s practically thrown out the front door. The two men responsible shake their heads with disapproving glares. “Good luck with that attitude in the real world, Styles,” one of them laughs before slamming the door.

But Harry isn’t finished. “Yeah, fuck you, too actually! I quit!”

Harry is met only with the sound of the wind, which feels surprisingly good against his hot body. He reaches up to wipe at mouth, cursing when he sees the amount of blood on his hands. He glances around him at the almost empty streets of New York, admittedly thankful that of the small handful of people around, not one really seems to acknowledge him.

“Bloody New York,” he mumbles under his breath before rising to his feet.

He lets out a somewhat injured sniff, wiping at his throbbing nose. His head hurts, and more than anything all he wants right now is to crawl into his bed and sleep for the next three days. He knows he can’t, however, because the bills are going to need to get paid one way or another. And he’s got to start job hunting the moment his eyes open in the morning.

However, he figures he’s allowed to feel a bit sorry for himself for the time being.

Harry wraps his coat further around himself, shivering when another gust of wind comes his way. Damn this cold. Damn winter. Damn the bills. Damn New York.

Up ahead, Harry makes out a figure. He assumes it’s a woman or a child, because the figure is much smaller than he is, but it’s stumbling around as if it’s had far too much to drink. Harry squints against the dim light, trying to make out what’s going on.

The figure seems to be walking in his direction, and Harry slows his steps ever so slightly until he can figure out the appropriate course of action. Most likely it’s a drunk-- this area is swimming with them, especially around this time of night-- and he hopes he’ll be able to pass by without any sort of hassle. Sometimes drunk men try to heckle him, or drunk women twice his age try to seduce him. He always politely declines, but it’s awkward nonetheless.

But when Harry gets a bit closer, he realizes that the figure is neither of those things.

It’s a young woman, yes, and she is stumbling, but it isn’t the stumble of a drunkard. It’s the stumble of someone who’s lost, dazed, or even perhaps sick. Harry stops in his tracks.

“Miss, are you alright?”

Harry’s voice seems to fall on deaf ears. Although very few people are around, no one acknowledges the girl, and she stumbles again, nearly slamming herself into the brick building.

Why is no one helping her? Harry takes a step forward, then stops himself again when she glances around, as if she can hardly see two feet in front of her.

“Miss?” He calls again, softer, as if afraid to startle her.

This time she does acknowledge him, taking a shaky step towards him and nearly toppling over once again. Harry wastes no time in rushing over to her, slightly annoyed that he’s the only one who seems to even realize this is going on. She stumbles towards him and he lengthens his strides so as to close the distance between them as quickly as possible.

He reaches her just in time, and the moment he’s close enough to get a decent look at her face, she collapses in his arms. “Miss!”

She blinks sleepily up at him with furrowed brow and open mouth. Her breathing is heavy, and Harry struggles to keep her somewhat upright as he watches her.

“Are you alright?” He asks, breathless. He shakes her a bit, trying to get her to come to. “Hey, look at me. What’s going on? Are you alright?”

The girl in his arms struggles to keep her eyes opened, but she gulps in a breath of air and reaches up for Harrys’ face with a shaky hand. She runs a weak finger across his cheekbone, down his cheek, and to his jaw, as if she’s trying to recognize him. Harry doesn’t understand, but something tells him he needs to hold still in this moment. So he holds his breath as she traces his features.

“Miss,” he says slowly, “what happened to you?”

Finally dropping her hand, she continues to blink sleepily up at him, confusion never once leaving her face. She looks like she’s struggling to speak, and Harry shakes her again ever so slightly to keep her conscious.

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and Harry waits with bated breath for her to be able to get a clear thought out. But when she does, it takes him completely by surprise.

“Mom?”

Harry scoffs. He doesn’t mean to, but it comes out the second she says it. “Well, how do you like that,” he says to himself. “Save a damsel in distress and she thinks you’re her damn mother.”

But Harry doesn’t get the snarky response he’s expecting. When he glances back down at her, her eyes are almost fully fluttered closed, and her head finally lulls to the side in complete relaxation. She's passed out in his arms now, and he has absolutely no idea what to do in this situation.

“Shit,” he says quietly, shaking her a bit more in an attempt to wake her. “Please wake up, I didn’t mean it.”

She’s completely unresponsive now, and Harry is not fully convinced she’s even alive anymore. He reaches up to run a hand through his sweaty hair, contemplating how on earth he’s supposed to go about dealing with this. Should he call the police? Should he take her to a hospital? What happens if they blame him? The black eye certainly isn’t going to bode well for him.

He uses his hand to fan her face, even going so far to blow a little as if that’s going to do any good. The panic is setting in, and it’s almost far too much for him to take when she stirs ever so slightly.

“Yes! Yes, wake up, there’s a good girl…” Harry brushes a bit of her hair off of her forehead, shifting her a bit more so that she’s propped up. When she opens her eyes, he beams, even though she looks just as confused as before-- if not more.

“Hello!” Harry says quickly, “Good evening! Yes, hi, I think you may have just passed away in my arms and then risen from the dead, and I want to help you but I’m genuinely not even sure where to begin so please stay awake and tell me what happened to you because--

“Wait,” she says slowly, lifting her head a bit to look around. As confused as she still seems, this is the most cognizant she’s been this entire time. Harry waits impatiently for her to say something, slowly becoming aware of the fact that he’s still holding her in his arms.

Finally, she looks up at him with an unreadable expression. She’s not particularly concerned, not scared and not excited-- but something tells Harry that the question she asks is urgent.

“What year is it?”

#i don't know why im so nervous but here she is #this story has been swimming in my head for like.... the majority of this year #this is my pride and joy and im so excited to share the rest with you guys #Harry Styles #Harry #One Direction #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #One Direction fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #One Direction AU #AU

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