#but i miss the holidays i miss going grandmas every year now? i barely see her and one day shes just going to be gone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

augmented-beauty · 1 year

Text

A bit late, but I had to keep my Christmas nostalgia at bay. I’m also in my Price feels and developing my oc, Blair, and here we are. Yes, that’s how I’m properly showing her for the first time, with cheesy Christmas fluff. Since there are no details about Price’s family right?, I took the liberty of filling the blancs. My gut tells me he has a younger sister and the biggest soft spot for his niece and nephew. Price being a proud, supportive uncle gives me life ok.

Summary: Blair has been struggling with heavy waves of nostalgia on Christmas for years. John always made it his mission to be there for her every single Chirstmas. This year, he decides to take advantage of the positive changes in their lives and shore leave, taking it to the next level. He can help her experience a cosy Christmas again, and he will.

Warnings: mention of death and family loss. Other than that it’s fluff, fluff and more fluff.

Word count: 2062

You can also read this on AO3.

Blair used to love Christmas with her whole being. Her family's table was never that big, but it was cosy. Her four grandparents, her parents and her. It was a chance to see her American grandpa and grandma, which didn't happen that often due to distance, and spend some days with all her family. In her book, there was nothing better than this. The typical festive atmosphere only added to the enjoyment. Things started to get progressively sadder as nature and fate got their dirtiest job done over the years. First, it took her American grandparents separately. Then, her father went missing in action and was later killed. Her British grandmother was the next to leave them relatively soon after, and it's clear that losing her son played a big part in her health deteriorating to the point of no return.

For many of her serving years, Christmas was still something to look forward to, and she always hoped to be on shore leave to spend it with what was left of her family. It already brought a lot of nostalgia and woke up grief without fail, but it didn't matter. Her grandfather was still alive, and every new year he got to live was a blessing for her. That time had to be spent wisely and fully with the man while he was still there. But inevitably, after moving to the US Army and getting her own team, he was taken away from her. Christmas has lost most of its significance ever since. Serving or being on shore leave in time for the festivity barely makes a difference now. Even if she's back in the UK, it's not celebrated anymore. Staying home it's no option, the half-empty table hurts too much. Blair and her mother created a new tradition of their own to spend quality time together and overcome the inevitable nostalgia. They either go on small adventures inside the country or straight-up trips if they manage to organise them.

Christmas feels like another day of the year, but she's no Grinch. It's no secret that she hopes it will get back at least part of its old meaning and charm. Not only that, but if her team and Blair are serving on Christmas, she does all she possibly can to make it enjoyable for her boys and girls. They decorate how they can, feast with what they can get, and spend some quieter time together. Blair struggles a lot with Christmas songs, but she'll never tell them. Music plays a big role in the festive atmosphere, and she wants the holiday spirit for her team to be intact. And so, she sucks it up and sings with them, ignoring that aftertaste of nostalgia. Not only it's worth it, but they keep grief at bay without even knowing it and make Christmas less sad for her. She can do Christmas songs in return. It's not as carefree as Christmas with her family used to be, but it's enjoyable.

When they were just friends, John always made sure to get in touch with her around Christmas time. Every December, he does all he can to soothe her heavier feelings, no matter the circumstances. Price knew about her December angst and the toil it has on her ever since it started to get stronger. It doesn't matter if he's serving or on shore leave: John has to at least call her. Dodging bullets or excusing himself during the family gathering makes no difference. One way or another, he takes a moment to call her and lock nostalgia and grief away, at least for a while. If they're both on shore leave and Blair is in the UK, they always hang out after Christmas without fail, even on multiple and consecutive days if possible.

This year is slightly different. It's their first Christmas as a couple, and the 141 is on shore leave. Yet, Blair is convinced they'll spend the holidays as every other year. John will go back to Herefordshire and spend them with family, while she'll go somewhere in the UK with her mother. They'll spend time together after Christmas and probably have a New Year's Eve party with the boys. As much as Blair would love to have a cosy Christmas with family again, she doesn't say a word about it to John. Meeting your partner's family is a big deal, even if they've known each other for years and his relatives sure have heard about her. Blair has no intention of pressuring him to make a selfish wish to become true. As the 25th approaches, Blair learns they'll visit a friend of her mother's who's alone for Christmas and stay at his place for some days.

On Christmas day, the two women wake up early, have breakfast together and get ready. Ruth asks her daughter to get the gifts upstairs and load them on the back seats of the car while she takes care of getting the food and their bags in the trunk. She smiles knowingly while Blair climbs the stairs. She grabs the thermic bag from the kitchen and quickly checks if Blair's gift for John is properly hidden under the driver's seat: it's safe and impossible to spot. Then, Ruth moves to the trunk as if nothing ever happened. Blair doesn't see it when she carefully places the finely wrapped-up boxes in the car and is still blissfully unaware of where they're really going. Everything is going according to their plan.

The long car ride goes by quickly and incredibly smoothly, with Queen's songs playing from the stereo system, good old mother-and-daughter chatting, and some occasional judgment on other's people driving performance. It's a fun, peaceful ride. It takes a while for Blair to realise where they are. "Herefordshire? My goodness me, the world sure is a small place". Her mother plays along and comments on it by agreeing with her but quickly turns her head to look out the window and hide her grin. As they get closer to their destination, Ruth sends a message to John. “Almost there, and Blair has no idea what's going on”. After ten minutes, Blair parks in the driveway and they get down the car. The family inside goes quiet to keep up the act until the very last second. Blair must not hear them as they approach the door. Ruth knocks, and Daniel warmly greets them, introducing himself to the younger woman. He's supposed to be Ruth's friend, after all. Blair is slightly taken aback while they shake hands. His eyes are uncannily similar to John's. Weird. He catches her perplexity and fears he got busted for a brief moment.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Oh, absolutely. It's random, but you vaguely look like someone I know."

Little does she know that John heard her saying that from his hiding spot, and he finds it amusing. The man shows Blair and her mother inside, and before she can even process that the house is not, in fact, empty, a familiar voice shocks her in the best way.

"Hi, Sparrow."

John has the cheekiest grin she ever saw on him yet. She can't say a word, only look around and take in everything, mouth agape. With a quick glance, she recognizes his niece and nephew and his sister, but her gaze quickly goes back to John. The resemblance she picked up at the door makes sense now, but she still gestures at one man and then the other, asking for a silent confirmation. That's your dad. Both John and Daniel nod.

"Holy mackerel". Everything is clear in a split second. Once again, she didn't need to say a word. John knew about her unspoken wish, and he made it possible with her mother's help. Not only that, but he feels no pressure about introducing her to the family. To him, it feels natural. Blair takes it all in and tries not to tear up, but fails miserably. "You two sneaky devils". John chuckles wholeheartedly before pulling her into a bear hug. She immediately locks her arms around his neck, getting as close as physically possible.

"I love you so much", she whispers, all her gratitude seeping out of her words.

"I love you too, sweetheart", he reciprocates as softly.

Everything is warm and cosy. They let go of each other, but Blair gets into one hug after the other as each member of the Price family introduces themself to her. John's father, Daniel, is the first to properly welcome her into their house. His mother, Alice, comes next with lucid eyes, a bright smile and soothing words. Then his niece, Rebecca, and his nephew, Andrew, both so excited to finally meet her, losing no time and calling her auntie. Finally, his sister, Caroline, who just knew they were meant to be, and her husband, Eric. As soon as Blair glances at her mother, she can see her getting the same treatment. Somehow, it feels like the two of them already belong here.

It’s been ages since she last sat close to a Christmas tree to unwrap gifts with loved ones, and Andrew seems particularly excited about it. The 8-year-old child confidently grabs a small box from under the tree as soon as everyone is ready.

"Auntie, start with this one, please. Uncle John told us your friends call you Sparrow, so Becky and I immediately thought about you when we saw this"

Blair genuinely smiles at the kid, taking the gift from him. "Oh dear, thank you. You guys are so sweet." She carefully unwraps it, curious to see what's inside. She opens the box, and her eyes sparkle at the sight of the sparrow keychain plushie. It represents the animal quite accurately but with a cute, chunky twist. "It's adorable! And it's a female, too."

"Of course, it's you." he states without a shadow of a doubt. Blair holds it by the ring close to her, supporting her nephew's statement. After all, her natural shade of blonde is similar to a sparrow's feathers. His attention switches to John to ask him one of the cutest questions she ever heard. "Do you and your friends call auntie Sparrow because she looks like one?"

Blair's free hand goes to her chest while she melts inside, glancing at the rest of the family and mouthing "I love him already". Meanwhile, uncle John doesn't let his nephew down. "That's one of the reasons. Nowadays, sparrows symbolize teamwork. They're also social animals that stick together and protect one another. It describes your auntie very well, and here you have it."

"He was the first to come up with the idea, actually, and it stuck to me like glue ever since, becoming my nickname in the military."

A teasing smile curves his sister's lips. "Why am I not surprised?"

John admits his defeat, pretending to be annoyed. "Because you were right about us, Caroline."

This is not the only moment filled with laughter and warmth throughout the day. It goes on as everyone unwraps their gifts, with Blair helping Andrew open one of his new toy's packaging as he struggles with it and John watching them fondly. The same mood fills the big Christmas lunch and the whole day, with the crackers being opened, the talking, the jokes being shared, and the bonding going on. As Blair plays with the kids after lunch, clearly feeling welcomed and at ease, he can't help but think she's right where she belongs. Watching them, his heart swells with happiness and a healthy hint of pride. He's proud of the two siblings for welcoming Blair as they did, and he's happy to see how much they love her already. His sparrow's joy is breathtaking and contagious. And the way she interacts with his nephew and niece, looking like she has known them since they were born, is making him fall in love even more. Blair always showed interest in their life, always happy to hear how they were doing as the years went by, asking about them. John knew she cared, but he still wasn't expecting to see her immediately so invested and embracing the role of the aunt with such confidence. He didn't have doubts anyway, but now he's utterly sure that having her meet his family so soon is one of the best choices of his life.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #captain price #captain john price #john price #call of duty oc #blair chester #blair sparrow chester #captain price x oc #john price x oc

1 note · View note

honeyhenry · 3 years

Text

Sweet as Pie

With some much needed time off, and excitement crisp in the air, you had flown over to Jersey with your husband Henry for Christmas to stay with his family, and they had been delighted to have you both back on his homeland. You settled in to Henry’s old room, unpacking all of the gifts you had brought for his family. You knew his nieces and nephews were going to love you even more when they saw what would be lying for them under the grand Christmas tree in the living room. Secretly, you were their favourite - not that they’d ever tell their poor Uncle Henry.

The large home is tidy, but scattered with family members in every room, all feeling at home in the place where Henry and his brothers grew up. You’d been able to catch up with the relatives you didn’t often see, and promise to spend some quality time together over the holidays.

It was so sweet to watch all the children’s faces light up on Christmas morning. You were glad that you and Henry could be spared an extra few moments in bed, being the only childless couple in the house. Yet moments later, Kal had leapt onto the bed - much to Henry’s annoyance; “down Kal, careful now” - as soon as he had heard the pattering of his small friends’ feet out in the hallways. And what Kal wanted, you usually gave him.

Which is why, at 6.45am, Kal dragged you and in turn, dragged Henry down to the living room where the rest of the family sat, with the kids lit up like the Christmas tree that their plethora of presents laid under, grinning to their bleary eyed parents who’d barely had a wink of sleep on the cold winter morning.

“You’d think after 6 years it gets easier” you’d heard someone murmur, and so you’d decided to put the kettle on for those poor souls. Luckily for you, 45 minutes later, you’re able to snuggle back into bed with Henry, warming your feet on his legs to annoy him. You kiss the offended pout right off his face, before feeling his beefy arms wrap around your waist. It’s the last thing you had recalled, as you dozed off in his arms only seconds later, feeling his fingertips rub against your hip softly.

------

The kitchen was bustling with about 10 bodies all completing their various tasks; cooking, washing, baking, roasting, timing and tasting. Well, you had kicked your husband out of the kitchen for sneaking a taste of your dessert before it was ready, chastising him out of the door.

“You can either help properly or go and play with your siblings” you had bargained while he’d grinned, leaning against the doorframe. He raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down like you were a pastry he was keen to ravish himself; “But who is going to compliment the chef?”

With that, you’d folded your arms across your chest, blushing at his words. The cheek of that man was not lost on you, and it still got you every single time.

And you loved him for it.

------

The meal was a total success. A wonderful soup starter, followed by a small appetiser, and then the most magnificent turkey. Feeding over 20 people - now probably closer to 30 if you were to include the children who were growing up so quickly in front of your eyes - had proven to be difficult, but it was a challenge the family had clearly tackled before.

You had been so excited to prepare the desserts, and present your dish. However, halfway through the day, somewhere between the main course, watching your nephews with their new toys, and the dessert course of the delicious homemade Christmas feast, you’d fallen asleep on the sofa completely tuckered out. Your legs rested on Henry’s lap as he’d covered you with a hand-knitted blanket that he’d once slept with as a boy. Henry’s mother speaks up, careful not to wake you. She has a gleam in her eye, not that you or even Henry notice, too wrapped up in your own cozy sleepy bubble together by the fire.

“Dessert can wait” his mother says to the gaggle of children and adults swarming the living room, “go out and get some fresh air.”

She turns to the children, specifically. “Do not disturb your Aunt, okay?”

------

Your cheeks are warm as the fire heats the living room, and after a particularly competitive game of rugby with his brothers, nieces, and nephews, Henry quietly checks on you. He had left the room earlier when you had shifted your legs slightly, taking the opportunity to get some fresh air himself. It had indeed been a long day. His brothers had questioned your tiredness briefly, making sure you were well. With the knowledge that you were simply sleepy, they had begun to joke that you obviously just couldn’t keep up with the rest of the Cavills - despite having married into the family for 2 years and been around for the holidays for 4. Henry had promised them that you were fine - that you still weren’t used to the long trip back to the island for the holidays.

Not exactly a fib, he’d thought.

Kal was laid beside you, loyal as ever, watching out for anyone who may disturb your rest, sending a rumbling growl towards anyone who approached. Except Henry.

While checking on you now to make sure you were still comfortable and resting well, he smiled, taking a picture of you wrapped up cosily by the fire, at peace in his childhood home, completely at rest and ease with him and his closest relatives. Petting Kal softly, he thanks him for looking after his mama so well.

“So?”

His mother, he hears. She’s alone for once as there was no one rushing to check for updates on food, no enquiries about the house, or any funny stories woven into a ten minute tale from her grandchildren. She’s alone, with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised.

Henry stands up straight. There’s nothing that can wipe the tremendously cheesy grin off of his face. He can’t even speak. Even after dessert had finished, you were the one who would be doing all the talking, the telling, the explaining.

“Mum-”

“Henry. She’s not ill. and i know you’re sensible enough to not be up the whole night with your wife...at least under my roof. So…?”

He looks over at your peaceful form, and then scratches his neck, blushing at being caught out, but also ecstatic that he can finally say something about it.

“She’s eleven weeks. We’re expecting a baby next summer”

With that, his mother almost leaps with joy over to her son, who she hugs closely despite the obvious height barrier.

“Oh i knew it, I knew it! I’m so happy for you Henry, for you both. I thought, ‘She normally loves that bread for starter’, hm? Oh my boy! A father!”

With her proclamation, Henry finds that he has tears in his eyes as he holds his Mother close, finally glad that it’s not just a little secret between the two of you - well, the two of you and Kal, who had already been a stellar protector and big brother.

“We had planned to tell everyone after dessert…we’ve known for nearly 2 months and it’s been killing me that I couldn’t say. We’ve had to be so careful-“

“Henry?” he hears your quiet voice from across the room, as Kal’s collar jingles. He turns to see you sitting up from your nap with Kal booping his nose at your stomach. You’re scratching at his head, thanking him for being such a wonderful boy, while looking up at the two Cavills.

It takes less than a second for you to realise what is happening in front of you. Your jaw drops and louder than your previous call, you exclaim, “Henry you told her?”

“She worked it out! Practically forced it out of me.” he grins, holding his hands up as his Mother pretends to smack his arm.

You stand, watching not to step on Kal or any stray Legos that your nephews have left strewn across the floor, and walk over to hug her. She’s been so caring and kind since you’ve joined the family all those years ago, and you know that she will be an incredible Grandma to your little one.

Breaking apart from the hug, you find Henry pulling you to him carefully, letting you melt into his side. Kissing your forehead he asks, for your ears only, “Good sleep? No pains? Sickness?” He has a small crease of worry between his brows and you always do your best to soften that small tense area with regular updates and sweet kisses.

“Yeah i’m okay honey” you reassure him, patting your stomach, “this ones growing up a storm in there”.

And they really are. Henry’s mother cannot believe she’s seeing it, and mostly can’t believe she missed it. You’re already showing, but a large loose sweater -probably one of Henry’s old ones that has since become yours - over your dress, has hidden a sizeable roundness to your stomach that you were excited to finally show.

“How did I miss this!” Your mother-in-law gasps, causing you to grin, and Henry’s chest to puff with utter pride and excitement.

“I know it’s bordering on having too much to eat, but we’ve been hiding it for a couple weeks now. Doctor thinks that baby’s gonna be big. Just like their daddy.” You explain, giving your stomach another gentle rub, surprised to find Henry’s hand there on it already.

If you’d thought Kal was protective, Henry was another thing altogether.

He’s still grinning as you kiss him, before you pull away to speak more to his mother about all the details, especially when you’ll be coming over to Jersey again. Kai follows you closely, making sure you’re staying safe. He’s known that there’s something up with his mama, there has been for weeks, especially with the way his master looks after you now.

Henry, deciding to be sneaky while the two women in his life are currently distracted chatting, takes another taste of the dessert you made, now set out on the kitchen. The worst part is, he thinks he’s got away with it.

He realises he doesn’t the second you smack his hand from the dessert.

“Strike two Mr Cavill! Step away from the pie.”

“And if I don’t?” he raises an eyebrow, watching your reactions as you hold a butter knife in your hand trying to look at least vaguely threatening - failing miserably. “Maybe i’ll strike out tonight, hm?” he continues with that wonderfully mischievous glint in his eye, taking cautious steps towards you. “You look even sweeter than your pie with this little bump here. Maybe I’ll have a taste later after all.”

Henry’s mother had not been right in her assumptions, for under her roof, you and Henry were not sensible at all.

------------------------------------------------------

please let me know what u think! i am v nervous to post but excited!!!

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill writing #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry fic #cavillry #henry cavill fluff

518 notes · View notes

certifiedskywalker · 3 years

Text

Pomegranate Chapstick - Peter Parker

It’s Winter in New York City. Not that movie magic kind of Winter that reeks of mistletoe and Hallmark channel cliches. No, it’s no longer the Holiday Season and everyone is back to school after Winter Break. Peter Parker is happy to be back because being back means being able to see you again. Though, something is different about you but he just can’t place it.

“What is it?”

“Y/N…”

“Yeah?” Ned looked in the same direction as Peter, who, suddenly self conscious, turned his friend back around to face him. “What is it?”

“Don’t, don’t look! I just…” Peter found that his eyes trailed back over to where you talking with MJ. Your eyes were bright, hands gesturing about you as your friend shared you into a passion. Despite your movements, Peter found himself drawn back to your smile.

“Something’s different,” he finished, “but I don’t know what.”

“It’s only been like two weeks. It was Christmas literally a few days ago.” Peter glanced warily at Ned before he looked back to you. You were still smiling. The sight made his chest tighten, stole his breath directly from his lungs. “Pete?”

“You remember Homecoming,” Peter pointed out as he met Ned’s eyes, “that all happened in a week and I almost died. Twice! Anything could have happened over break.”

Peter let his eyes wander back to you. Whatever MJ was discussing with you was enthralling. You were completely consumed, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Slightly hidden under all of the layers of Winter clothing you were wearing, you looked warm, aflamed and bright. Suddenly, you threw your head back, laughing at something MJ had said.

The sound sent a shiver down Peter’s spine that he tried to pass off as a response to the cold. He pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his chilled hands and adjusted the strap of his backpack that dug into his shoulder. Ned blinked at him a few times, too close of a friend to not notice Peter’s nervous ticks.

Eventually, Ned glanced over in your direction too. “Well, Y/N seemed alright. We had Advanced Geometry together and we talked.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Really? Did anything happen?”

“From what Y/N said, your Winter break was way more eventful, Spiderman.”

Peter knocked the back of his hand against Ned’s shoulder to hush him. Classmates continued to file out of the school, laughing and chatting about the less than glorious return to academia. Peter eyed them all as they stepped down the stairs to the streets of the city. None of his peers seemed to have picked up on Peter’s secret. Satisfied his identity was safe, Peter glanced at Ned with a warning balanced in his frown.

“Sorry,” Ned said, raising his hands.

“Gotta be more careful.” Peter glanced around at the faces of his classmates once more. Everyone was too caught up in leaving school for the day to notice the worried look on his face. All except you when Peter accidentally met your eyes. Quickly, he tore his gaze away and stared directly, wide-eyed, at Ned.

“What?”

“Y/N.” Ned glanced over in your direction.

“Headed over with MJ. Why?”

Peter’s face warmed to the point where the scarf wrapped around his jaw was pointless. “And? Does...is...do I look okay?”

Ned squinted before his lips broke into a wide grin. A laugh rattled in his chest and Peter felt a fresh wave of panic wash over his shoulders.

“What?! Do I look-”

“Hey losers,” MJ greeted, standing by your side. Peter glanced at the curly-haired girl before he saw you gently elbowed her shoulder. He met your eyes and felt his lips instinctively curl up in a lopsided smile.

“Hi,” Peter said softly as he tried to steady his breathing. Now, with you closer, he tried to study you, sleuth out what was different.

“Hey! Do you guys wanna do something? Hang out?”

Your smile was still as bright as your eyes as you asked. Maybe it was the ruddiness in your cheeks, spurred on by the cold that made you seem changed? No, that was too simple.

“Nah, I gotta work,” MJ said.

“Wow, you got a job?” Ned asked, causing Peter to glance away from your face for a moment. When he looked back to you, Peter found that you were looking at him. Though, you quickly looked to MJ, waiting for her reply.

“Yeah, over break. At the QuikMart.”

Maybe you got a haircut or, possibly, you dyed your hair and the color was fading back to it’s natural tone. Aunt May had dyed her hair a dark red one year. Peter remembered thinking there was blood in the tub when the pigment started to wash out. Though, even with his ‘Spidey-vision’, as Ned called it, Peter couldn’t detect a color.

“Awesome. Can you get me free slushies?”

“Bro, I don’t even get free slushies,” MJ replied, frowning at Ned. “I gotta go, can’t be late. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“See ya,” you said, waving off your friend as MJ walked along the snowy sidewalks. Peter swallowed hard when you looked back to him and Ned. “What about you two?”

“I told my mom I’d be back after school to help her with my lola, my grandma.” Peter’s brow furrowed and he turned his head to look at Ned. “Really? You need help?”

“No, she’s coming over to make some food,” Ned explained as he started down the steps of the school. “I’m mom’s moral support.”

“Oh…”

“Well, have fun with that,” you said, bringing Peter’s eyes back to focus on you. “Maybe next time then.”

Ned let out another laugh. It was eerily similar to the laugh he gave Peter when he asked if he looked okay. Something about the sound made Peter’s stomach twist.

“You two have fun!” Ned’s shout disappeared after him, down the sidewalk and into the city. His words left you and Peter alone. You glanced back to him with a soft smile on your lips. Peter couldn’t help but smile back at you, even though he did so nervously. His eyes flickered up to yours then back to your lips.

While your smile was unchanged, still yours and beautiful, he kept coming back to your lips. It had to be your lips that were different and Peter leaned in slightly to figure out how. Your eyes widened slightly and Peter’s face burned with realization.

“Uh, sorry,” Peter shifted back and let his gaze fall. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“I-I...to be honest, I don’t know. I just missed you over Winter break. Missed, all of you, I mean. MJ and Ned, and you.” You held Peter’s eyes for a fleeting glance before you busied yourself wiping snow off the steps with your boot.

“Yeah, I,” Peter felt his chest tightened again, “I missed you too, Y/N.”

You looked back up at him, met his brown eyes and gave him a closed-lip smile. Silence fell over the two of you but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was easy, not tension filled and heavy. Being with you was always easy for Peter but this new nervousness that bloomed over Winter break was difficult to manage. He couldn’t let his eyes linger on you too long until fear took hold.

The silence too had its limit. “We should head over to the library maybe. You have Ms. Turner for chem, right? We could study together if you want.”

Peter fought the urge to cringe as his suggestion. In his head, it sounded better, more thought through. He had missed you and wanted to spend time with you. So, naturally, he had to recommend the quiet library. Maybe he was the one that was different, more awkward.

“Sure, yeah!” You started down the steps and Peter trailed after you. “She’s new and I’m a bit nervous about how she tests.”

“I’m nervous too,” Peter agreed as he fell into step beside you. “About the test.”

Peter glanced at you from the corner of his eyes and saw that you were already looking at him. Quickly, you both looked away from the other and started to walk silently towards the library. Every so often, Peter felt your gloved hand against the skin of his bare knuckles. Each time you touched him, a new sense of curiosity struck him. This quietness was different, he wasn’t sure that he liked it, and your hidden change still gnawed at him.

Mr. Stark had given Peter many words of wisdom. Always ask questions was, seemingly, his motto when it came to his ‘internship’. Though, Peter couldn’t find the words. Everytime he did, he second guessed.

Hey, what did you get up to over break? New style? No, no, no! It had to be your smile. He was stuck on your smile, your lips.

Finally, with nerves and desperation bubbling up inside, Peter let the words come out without thinking. “Y/N, are you wearing like lipstick or something?”

You laughed, drawing the attention of those around you. The last crosswalk before the library was fast approaching and Peter needed to find out what had changed before you were both doomed to a respectable quiet.

“Lipstick? No, I am wearing tinted chapstick though.”

“Oh,” Peter’s brow furrowed, “I guess maybe that’s what’s different.”

“Different?” At your amused tone, Peter looked at you, brown eyes searching your face. There was a softness in his eyes and stole your breath away. His lips turned up slightly at the corners, the gentlest smile you had ever seen.

“You just...you look-”

A car horn, loud, alarming, and terribly frightening ripped through the air. Peter reacted to the sound, lurching forwards and wrapping his arms around your waist. Even with your bag slung halfway on your back, Peter was able to catch you as you nearly fell into the street. The car horn faded into the distance but your attention shifted from death to Peter in an instant.

“Beautiful,” he finished.

Finally, it clicked. You hadn’t changed, but the way Peter saw you had. The way he saw your lips had shifted too. More enticing than ever before.

“Peter, I…”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Peter said, quickly helping you back to your feet and out of the crosswalk. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you said with a swallow breath. Peter’s hands were still on you, thumbs gently rubbing your coat-covered, upper arm. Your eyes lingered on Peter, unable to tear them away.

His breath, and yours, came out in small clouds, chilled by the cold. Together, you made your own atmosphere and shared the same air. Adrenaline pumped through Peter’s veins, filled, not with curisoulity anymore, but want. He took a step closer.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?” You found yourself coaxed closer by his warmth.

“Can...can I kiss you?”

You smiled again and nodded. “Yes.”

Peter leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. His fingers dug into the material of your coat softly. One of your hands reached up, cupped his face and accidentally knocked his hat off of his brown curls. Neither of you cared and, instead, savored your shared late-Winter kiss. Peter’s hands trailed up your arms until they gently held your jaw, keeping your lips on his.

Peter’s eyes stayed closed and a smile plastered on his face when you pulled away. A chuckle passed over your lips when you saw how your tinted chapstick left a faint stain on Peter’s lips. Carefully, you used your thumb and wiped what residue you saw away. Peter’s eyes opened at the touch and his smile widened.

“Pomegranate?”

“You like it?”

Peter pulled you in for another kiss after saying, “I love it.”

254 notes · View notes

shreddedparchment · 3 years

Text

Tamales and Christmas Lights

12/21/2020

Pairing: Steve x Mexican American Reader Word Count: 6,838

Warnings: light smut, talks of having kids, language, drinking

A/N: This is the first time I have ever written anything for a specific type of reader. I don’t usually write for a specific race or ethnicity because I can’t speak as to the intimacy of living in that person’s shoes. By this I mean more of a family life. I’m eager to learn but for now, I will write what I know and that is a reader of my own background. I hope I don’t alienate anyone too much and that you all enjoy the story for what it is. There is a bit of Spanish in this one, but so long as you read all of the dialogue what is said is explained in English shortly after. Anyway, I’m SUPER nervous about this one, and it’s a little on the short side but I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for your support! xoxo

“What do you do for the Holidays?”

Steve stiffens for a moment beneath you, bringing your gaze up to his sleepy face.

It’s so late and he’d only just got in an hour ago. Probably on the verge of sleep when you’d asked your quests.

“What?” There’s stress in his eyes and you’re sorry to interrupt the peace of the moment.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He rubs your shoulder, large hands trying to coax you back down onto his chest where you’d been laying with your head cradled underneath his chin.

“You’re lying. And you haven’t answered my question.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head, “Nothing. That’s what I do for the Holidays. I don’t do anything. I should probably change that since Buck is finally back. But I think I overheard Sam making plans to drag him to some party and I’m not up for that.”

“Oh…” You deflate, laying your head back on his chest but he notices the disappointment in your voice and he pushes you up again.

When you don’t move, he forces himself up, pulling back until he can rest against the headboard of your bed. You’re also made to sit up but Steve leans forward to guide you close to his body so that you’re practically straddling him.

“What did you have in mind? That wasn’t an empty oh.” He notices.

You shake your head, suddenly terrified to bring it up.

“Come on, baby, don’t leave me wondering. I’ll assume the worst.” He reminds you.

You smile, appreciating the way he reaches up to grab your chin and give your head a little shake. You probably shouldn’t like it but you love the way he makes these small gestures of possessiveness over you.

There’s something feral within you that purrs into submission when he claims you so openly. You’re his. Heart and soul. He knows it already even though it’s only been a few months of being together.

You fist his white shirt, wrinkling it as you pull him closer and kiss him sweetly despite the aggression in your hands.

There’s just something about him that makes you want to just squeeze him! Like that feeling you get when you see a tiny puppy or kitty and you just wanna hug it and squeeze it and love it to death.

He huffs a small laugh at your reaction, though he doesn’t understand it.

“What was that for?”

You lick your lips, kissing him once more before leaning back and releasing his poor shirt.

“You know you’re mine, right?” You ask him, eyes fixed on his pretty face.

You’re not a fan of the bruising around his left cheekbone, but the rest of him is just as perfect as ever.

“And you’re mine,” he assures you. “And if anyone tries to take you away…”

The implications are tantalizing but you don’t linger there. You laugh and shake your head, turning to the windows of his room to watch the heavy snowfall.

It’s freezing outside. It makes you shiver and you pull yourself closer to Steve, wrapping your arms around him by hooking them underneath his own. You ball yourself up in his lap as best you can and rest your head against his chest again as his own arms come back around you, large hands splayed out on your back as he rubs it to give you warmth and comfort.

“Why did you ask me about the holidays, babe?” he presses.

“I want to take you home with me,” that’s the truth. “My grandma has been asking me when I’m going to get married and maybe if they see I have a big strong boyfriend she and the rest of my aunts will leave me alone.”

Steve huffs another laugh, “Are they seriously asking you when you’re getting married?”

“Yeah,” with a nod, you push up again despite being completely at peace in Steve’s arms. “They’ve been asking since I graduated high school.”

“That’s odd,” he observes and you can see how it might be to others. “It’s always been like that in my family. My grandma got married when she was seventeen. Same for my mom. Had kids pretty quickly too. So, they’re kinda waiting for me to do the same. Because getting married and having kids is what I’m supposed to do.”

“Do you want to get married and have kids?” Steve’s hands stroke your hips, a small movement of passive affection.

He’s eager to give you all the touch you want in private but you know to keep things a little more tame in front of others. Steve isn’t big into the P.D.A.

“Eventually I guess. I don’t know. It’s not a question I feel like I need to answer right now. I’m a little more sure about the marriage than the kids but I’ve got lots of time to think about it.” you shrug.

“Yeah, we’ve got lots of time,” he asserts and your heart shoots into your throat, stomach twisting with fluttering wings that make it feel like you’re doing somersaults.

“We?” you smile, despite yourself.

“I wanna marry you eventually, I thought you knew that?”

“No,” you laugh.

“Oh, well now you know.”

“You can’t just spring that on me, Steve!”

He laughs now, hooking his hands behind your knees and yanks you closer. You’re right on him, and as you settle, you feel a familiar stirring between your bodies as the exhaustion of the mission wears off and his eagerness to show you how much he missed you becomes obvious.

“I think I just did,” he teases. “If you want to take me to meet your family, I am more than happy to come along. We have been together almost a year, it’s about time I think.”

“A year?” you gasp, realizing that it hasn’t been a few months after all.

Time with Steve is so much like a dream that it feels like it’s passed in the blink of an eye.

“Yeah, we hooked up in that closet off the shooting range on New Year’s Eve, remember?”

“Okay, first of all, hooked up? You’re spending too much time with Sam and Bucky.”

Your face heats up, neck burning and ears probably hot to the touch as the memory of you half drunk finding Steve alone in that shooting range.

You’d confessed recklessly and Steve had practically tackled you into the wall when he’d realized you were serious, despite being tipsy.

The frenzy that had followed that first kiss had been uncontrollable and he’d maneuvered you both into the bathroom and then pounded into you with you pinned between him and the counter.

You can still remember the shock of cold smooth concrete under your naked butt.

The next day, Steve had sought you out to tell you that he liked you too and that he wanted to take you out properly and that he was sorry for letting himself get out of hand the night before.

You responded by accepting his invitation but then luring him into your bedroom to ride him until he was breathless and groaning with satisfaction and you were twitching from reaching a third climax.

Your love with Steve has always been rooted in a very physical connection but over time, the emotional depth has increased exponentially and you’re best friends now, as well as lovers.

Now he’s here, remind you of that very beginning and telling you that it’s time to meet your family?

“You don’t have to go, Steve. My grandma will probably ask you a million questions and the rest of my family will be just as nosy and loud. We can get kind of rowdy when we get all together.”

The last thing you want to do is chas him off with an overbearing family, but at the same time...you love them! If he’s going to be in your life, he needs to accept them too, right?

What if he can’t? What will that mean for the two of you?

“Growing up it was just me and my mom,” Steve explains, stroking the length of your arms. “A big family is just what I need, I think.”

You watch him as he leans forward, his lips finding that stupid spot on your neck that always makes you melt.

As his tongue darts out, tracing a small circle, you absolutely collapse against him, arms wrapping up around his shoulders loosely, eyes very slightly rolling into the back of your head.

“Are you sure?”

“So sure,” he whispers, the heat of his breath raising goosebumps on your skin.

He pulls you down against his stiffened cock and you moan as he throws you back onto the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Steve urges, reaching over to place his hand in yours so that you can stop pulling and tugging at your own fingers.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, staring at the peach colored house with bright red trimming around every window and the bright red doorway. It’s absolutely covered in lights, twinkling in different colors. Traditional tiny lights but then around the tree in the front yard are huge bulbs, green, blue, yellow, and red.

They’re novelty lights? You’re not sure if that’s what they are, but you find them silly. Your grandpa’s idea probably.

Your grandmother’s house hasn’t changed one bit since you were little. The only thing that changes are the cars parked along the street, the large rose bushes along the front porch are bare.

Several green hard plastic chairs line the front wall angled oddly as someone had most likely been sitting there last night. Aunts and uncles, your mom and dad probably talking late into the night.

Even sitting in the car, with the engine idling, doors shut tight, you can already hear one of your aunts laughing her head off inside the house. The shouts of kids playing also reach your very normal ears. Steve must be able to hear everything.

“Do you think they won’t like me?” Steve worries, and now it’s your turn to turn and soothe his nerves.

“Oh, no, Steve. That’s not why. I know they’ll love you. I’m just afraid of what they’ll say. Or that they’ll smother you. I haven’t exactly told anyone in my family that I’m dating anyone much less…”

The two of you never talk about his official title. Who he is. Even though he’s retired in many ways, he’s still the first. Sam might be Captain America now, but everyone knows Steve as the original Captain America. There isn’t a person on this planet that doesn’t know who he is.

Normally, it doesn’t matter. To you, he’s just Steve Rogers. Super soldier, for sure, but just a man that swept you off your feet with his sweetness and kindness and okay, those damn shoulders and his ass is biteable. But he’s just Steve!

Your family will see the title first, you’re sure of it. They’ll see Captain America.

“Are they not big Captain America fans?” his teasing is gentle and innocent.

“Steve!” you shut your eyes and chuckle, “ I’m seriously so worried.”

“I can take it, hon. I’m a big boy. Come on, let’s get in there. I wanna meet your grandma.”

Suddenly he throws his door open and steps out of the car, shutting it off as he goes.

“Wait!” you gasp, scurrying to get out with him.

You scamper around the car until you’re beside him and take hold of his hand. He pulls you towards the door confidently but you let go of his hand and rush forward before he can reach it.

Fixing your hair, you push the door open and are immediately assaulted by the smell of spicy menudo. It makes your mouth water. The smell of spices and pine sol. Fabuloso is mixed in there too, your mom’s idea to mix the two cleansers together and use them to make a unique smelling concoction that gets the linoleum floors cleaner than if you used one or the other.

The low sofas are covered in shining clear plastic, no doubt put in place by your grandma just before all the family began to arrive. The flat screen is decorated with a simple green garland, beside the TV console is a low table where the remote sits on a lace doily, underneath in a wooden pocket are several magazines and underneath the pocket on the base of the table sits a blue round tin of butter cookies that no doubt has all of your grandma’s sewing things instead of the treats it promises.

The house isn’t big. In fact, it’s on the small side. The large master bedroom is situated at the back of the house along with the bathroom, past the kitchen where you can see the light on all of your aunts sitting around the table exchanging their respective chisme and keeping their hands busy with something you can’t see.

From the hallway to your right where the only two guest rooms are located along with a second half bath come running two of your younger cousins. They’re children still, your youngest Tia’s kids.

They don’t even notice you as you stop walking, choosing to run instead towards the back door in the distance past the kitchen, master bedroom, and bathroom.

One of your other aunts, the second oldest, turns her head as they run behind her.

“Que chingaos les dije?! Stop running in and out or I’m gonna kick your asses!” She yells at them, but the kids ignore her and disappear through the door. It slams shut behind them.

“Lulu, no les puedes decir algo?! They keep running in and out of here like wild animals.” Your second eldest aunt demands.

“They’re just playing, leave them alone.” Your Tia Lulu waves her sister off.

To your right you finally notice the centerpiece of the living room, a huge christmas tree with red, blue, and green glass ornaments. The lights are white, twinkling in different patterns, tinsel covering every branch to an obscene amount. At the top sits an old porcelain angel that your grandmother had once told you she’d received from her own grandmother and had actually been made in Mexico by some nun at an old church that had been knocked down a long time ago to make room for a cattle ranch.

The base of the tree is almost completely obscured by the dozens and dozens of presents from very large to very small. Each one is addressed to one or other member of the family. The kids especially all get gifts from each of your uncles and aunts.

You take another step towards the kitchen only to be stopped again as the restroom in the hallway to your right flushes and from inside it emerges your grandfather, buckling his belt as he lumbers out.

“Grandpa,” you call to him excitedly and he whips his head up then beams at the sight of you.

“Mijita bonita, cuando llegaste? Aye, chula…” His words fade out as he reaches you with his arms outstretched and pulls you into a quick tight hug.

His large hands pat you on the back several times before he kisses your cheek. He brings his hands to your shoulders and pushes you back a little to get a look at you.

“When did you get here?” he repeats, and gives your arms a squeeze.

“Just now,” you begin, but as you’d hugged your grandpa had turned you around and Steve moves in behind him.

He meets your eyes, shrinking a little, drawing his shoulders in to make himself smaller in the very normal person sized house.

“Grandpa, uh, I have um...this is my boyfriend, Steve,” with one arm extended you gesture towards the super soldier standing by the door.

“Steve?! ¿Trajiste un gringo?”

Your grandpa whips around, searching at average height level for the white boy you’ve brought and finds himself face to face with Steve’s chest.

He adjusts quickly, finding Steve’s face and with a gasp, he slams his hand over his heart and laughs.

“That’s Captain America!” he laughs.

The declaration brings the kitchen to a pause and like dominoes all of your aunts rise one by one, moving into the doorway of the kitchen to catch a glimpse at the commotion in the living room.

More gasps follow and soon you can’t hear yourself think as they all break into a cacophony of excited chatter.

Your Tia Lulu is the first to shove her way through, as she’s the youngest, she smiles at Steve flirtatiously before shoving your grandpa out of the way.

“Move aside, dad! Hello, hi. I’m Consuela but everyone calls me Lulu. You can call me sweetheart.” She throws out her tongue as she laughs, a clear joke but Steve good naturedly takes her hand and shakes it, a shy but kind smile on his handsome face.

“Oh my God, Tia, stop,” you plead.

“I’m just kidding, werca fregada. Don’t get your panties all in a twist.” She swats at you while your grandpa retreats to the sofa where he must have been sitting before, stuffing fives, tens, and twenties into envelopes for the kids.

Grandma and Grandpa never get anyone anything. They just put money in envelopes for the kids.

As your aunts file in, all five of them, you wait until Steve looks at you to bite your bottom lip and mouth a quick apology.

He shakes his head, setting your heart at ease as your aunts circle around him talking fast and occasionally asking him a question or two which he answers readily.

“A year.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’m not Captain America anymore.”

“Consulting mostly.”

“Yeah, I-I have my own place.”

“It’s a rental.”

Your aunts gasp at that in particular, “Ooh, it’s a rental. Those can be so expensive. Did you get the insurance?”

“Uh, well, no. I didn’t mean, it’s actually one of Tony’s-Stark. He had it set aside for us when he found out we were coming to visit.”

The madness reignites at the mention of Iron Man and as they plunge into more questions, your turn just in time as your mom makes her way over to you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” she wraps you up in her arms and you hug her back, holding it for a little longer than you normally would but you’ve been so stressed with bringing Steve here that you feel a relief wash over you not only because she’s there to help you, but to finally have it happening means you can stop the anticipation.

“I’m sorry, mom. I decided to get him down here super last minute and I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Where’s dad?”

“He’s out back with your tios. Drinking already,” she shakes her head but there’s no surprise there from anyone. “They’ve got the pit going. Chicken and fajitas to go with the menudo.”

“It smells so freaking good,” you laugh.

“Is he really your boyfriend? How long has this been going on? How come you haven’t told me?”

The hurt in your mom’s voice is subtle but you hear it and lament it.

“I was going to tell you. Every time I called. But at first it was too new and then after that I just didn’t know how to explain it to you. I know you hate my job. Now I’m dating a former Avenger?”

It’s her turn to look apologetic.

“Mija, you could have told me. I do hate that you put yourself in harm’s way, but that’s your job. No mom is going to like that.”

She takes a moment to glance at Steve, then with a flick of her eyebrows and a quick nod in his direction, she scoots closer, “Isn’t he like super old?”

You laugh and nod.

“He’s older than grandpa,” She laughs with you as you whisper, Steve giving you two a quick glance.

“He doesn’t look it,” your mom admits.

A tiny upturn to the corner of his lip tells you he can hear everything you’re saying.

“Is it serious?” She asks, letting you steer her towards the kitchen as her probing continues.

Inside the kitchen you find the entire kitchen table cleared of the usual place mats and ceramic Jesus centerpiece to make room for the bowls of masa, cooked seasoned pork and chicken for the filling of what will be tomorrow’s tamales.

At the stove you see your grandma a well worn lime green apron tied tightly around her waist and neck, huddled over the very tall and large pot, stirring and adding seasoning to the murky russet soup inside.

“I hope that has lots of posole!”

Your grandma turns at your voice and her face lights up.

“Mijita, chula!” she gushes, rushing forward to wrap her arms around you and kiss your cheek with a loud smack.

“Hi, grandma, I missed you so much,” you realize, hugging her tight.

“Por qué no nos dijiste que ibas a venir? Werca, cabrona!” she smacks you hard and you laugh, holding her hands as she pulls back to look at you. “You need to eat more.”

“Grandma, I’m eating fine,” you laugh, amused by the direction her thoughts go.

“She brought a boy home, mom,” your mom gives you away, then sticks her tongue out at you as she replaces her mother’s place at the pot.

“Mom!”

“You brought a boy?” she’s ecstatic! “A boyfriend?”

“Yes, he’s a boyfriend.”

“What’s his name?” she starts wiping her hands on her apron, cleaning them up to meet Steve.

“His name is Steve.”

“Es un gringo?!” her exclamation of surprise is just like grandpa’s.

“Yes, he’s white, does it matter?”

“Pos, no. It doesn’t matter, as long as he’s nice to you. Is he good to you?”

“He’s the best, grandma. He insists on taking me out every Friday to eat and watch a movie.”

Well, every Friday that you or he aren’t on mission. And it’s such a small thing but you know it’ll make her happy to know that he takes you out.

“Ooh, that’s good,” she approves. “Does he have a good job?”

“He’s a consultant where I work.”

“With the Avengers?” she gasps.

“Yeah.”

“A consultant? What does that mean? Is he a nerd?”

You laugh, throwing your head back, “He’s the biggest nerd, though he’ll never admit it.”

“Well, andale, let’s go meet your boyfriend,” she pushes you towards the doorway and you make to lead the way. “Is it serious?”

She whispers the second question, though you know that Steve will be able to hear.

Is it serious? “I uh…”

“Ayt! Don’t you all have husbands?”

Saving Steve from your aunts, your grandma moves forward and pushes and pulls and slaps them away from him, shoving them back towards the kitchen.

“Esos tamales no se van hacer solos.”

“Ow, mom! Stop hitting us,” your eldest aunt Margarita frowns.

“Magge, no te da verguenza?”

“Why should I be embarrassed?! Have you seen her boyfriend? Steve, do you like older women?” your Tia throws back at him as your other aunts push past you, patting you in the back and whispering congratulations at your luck.

“Technically I’m older,” he calls and everyone looks at him, not talking, apparently in shock at the fact that he truly is over a hundred years old.

“Oh my God, your boyfriend is Captain America?!” your grandma realizes, turning to slap your shoulder lightly for not explaining yourself.

Everyone bursts into laughter, the chatter moving into the kitchen as you join the laughter, Steve smiling from ear to ear as your mom rushes back out, eager to meet him.

Grandma pulls him into a hug and he gently returns it, smiling politely as she gushes over how handsome he is and how tall and then getting angry at you for not feeding him before admiring the exquisite shape of his body.

“Your grandpa had a body like this when he was young, mija,” grandma assures you. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Probably all the tamales,” you tease and she smacks you gently again before laughing in genuine amusement.

~~~~~~~~~~

You can’t find Steve anywhere. The kids are all inside, watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in the living room, crowded around the flat screen with expressions that range from amusement to boredom.

Mostly it’s the older kids that are tired of the claymation film. They’ve seen it every year since they were old enough to sit up.

“Should I change it?” you wander in from the front, your Tias laughing as the door shuts behind you cutting the sound off.

One of the things you’d missed was the happiness that filled the house this time of year. Even though they fight like cats, it’s cats that are sisters and love each other deep down.

They always end up laughing again eventually.

Your cousin Claudia sits up at your offer, “Yes! Put something else on!”

“No!” the littler ones revolt.

“Even if it’s Elf?”

You stop by the TV, remote already in hand and all of their eyes light right up.

“Okay, okay, put Elf!”

Their accents make you smile. Like you, they’d probably grown up speaking mostly spanish as a toddler and then as you’d started school, English had begun to push in as your default leaving you with a heavy accent for a few years.

Now it’s almost completely gone and only emerges when you shout angrily, or so Steve says.

As the opening narration begins, you catch Claudia’s eyes and give her the remote, “Have you seen Steve?”

“Captain America?” she smirks, getting a serious kick out of your choice of boyfriend.

But you’d also seen her all flustered when she’d met him. She thinks he’s hot and honestly, he is so you can’t blame her. At sixteen, she’s lost almost all of her bashfulness.

“Yes, Steve. Have you seen him?”

“He went out back with Tio, I think.”

“My dad?!” you gasp, already terrified of what they might be talking about.

“Yeah, he looked nervous. You should probably go save him from Tio’s interrogation.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you throw at her, already moving towards the back door in a hurry.

The inside of the house is toasty warm, especially with the tamales cooking and the menudo on low heat to keep it warm in case anyone wants thirds or fourths.

“Where are you going?” your mom asks as you pass by.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table, across from your grandma talking in hushed tones.

“To get Steve, Claudia said he was with dad.”

“Well, leave them alone, I’m sure he’s being nice.”

Your grandma laughs and you shove the door open and disappear back out into the chilly winter night.

Wrapping your arms around yourself to combat the chill that begins to set in, you scan the backyard and move past your tios sitting around the clearly diy firepit one of them had built for your grandparents, each one knocking back a beer in either bottle or can.

They’re not as loud as your tias but they’re still talking loudly, laughing and then arguing over the superbowl.

“No manches, guey. That linebacker doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. He should have stayed in Atlanta.”

You tune them out as you spot Steve and your dad standing by the table of barbecue a little further out by the back corner of the chain link fence.

Steve is standing with one hand on the tongs, flipping over some of the leftover chicken your grandma asked your dad to cook since someone will eat it eventually.

They’re talking, both in deep conversation until Steve smiles and seems to relax. Your dad, who stands at five feet, nine inches in height, has to reach up to clap Steve on the shoulder then smiles too, both of them turning their focus on the chicken.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, moving towards them with purposeful steps.

Both of them look up as you approach and immediately Steve hands your dad the tongs before moving towards you and peeling off his black leather jacket.

“Hon, why are you out here without a coat? It’s cold.” he says sweetly.

He can’t feel the temperature like you can but he can tell when you’re cold.

“Dad? What are you two doing out here?”

You’re so suspicious of your dad, worried he might be saying things to hurt Steve, but both of them look happy even.

“I’m showing him how we make the chicken,” your dad says innocently.

“Uh huh...sure you are.”

“He was,” Steve promises.

“I don’t trust you,” you say sternly, using one finger to point up into Steve’s ridiculously handsome face. “You’re just trying to suck up to my family.”

“Me?” he gasps, forced innocence on his face now too.

You narrow your eyes at both of them in turn, wrapping your arms around yourself again as Steve rubs them to try and warm you up.

“Come on, let’s go back inside,” Steve urges you, then turns to look at your dad. “Thanks for the lesson, Hector, I’ll keep it in mind for the future.”

“What lesson?”

“Never you mind, nosy. Come on, before you catch a cold.”

Steve sits you on the sofa once he’s got you inside and settles in pulling you against his side then kissing your temple before turning his focus on Buddy the Elf sitting in a bathroom singing with Zoey Deschanel as she showers.

“When did you sneak off to talk to my dad?”

Eyes narrowed, you watch him for any of his usual tells that he might be lying or hiding something from you.

So far, nothing.

“I didn’t sneak off. You were busy talking to your aunt and your dad invited to show me how to make the chicken. He was nice, serious about you. He wanted me to know that he’s got his eyes on me and if I hurt you all of your uncles will come find me and castrate me.”

He smiles wide, amused by this for some reason.

“It’s been a while since I’ve felt fear like that. Your dad really meant it.”

You’re not convinced but he reaches down to take hold of your chin and force you to look at him.

“Give me a kiss, pouty.” he requests.

How can you resist? You lean up and give him a quick kiss but then the kids say, “Ooooooh.”

You turn to them and throw Claudia a pillow but she laughs and catches it, leading the rest of them into giggles.

~~~~~~~~~~

The night grows older and everyone comes inside. As midnight approaches, the kids filter into their usual seats at the feet of their respective parents. Your six aunts and their husbands pile onto the sofas or linger in doorways, all attention diverted to the Christmas tree and the piles of presents underneath.

Your grandma and grandpa get center seating on the longest sofa, both of them ready with cash envelopes in hand for giving out as soon as the time comes.

Your dad on the other hand sits himself by the tree and while all of the adults talk amongst themselves, the kids are as quiet as they will ever be, little to teen eyes all trained on the pile of gifts.

“Mija, ven siéntate aqui. Magge, dale el asiento a tu sobrina,” your grandmother calls, waving you over to sit beside her.

Your aunt looks from your grandmother to you and then back, looking almost affronted by the request until your grandma gives her a face of deep annoyance.

Your aunt has a moment of realization, then sighs but begins to get up.

“No! Tia, it’s okay. I’ll stand. I’m alright here.”

“Don’t argue with me and get your butt over here,” your grandmother interrupts.

“She never sees you,” your tia reminds you. “Come sit here, I’ll sit on your tio’s lap.”

“Like hell you will, you wanna break my legs?”

“Callate lo sico, estupido imbecil,” she smacks him in the arm but then sits in his lap and he smirks as he wraps his arms around her waist.

Steve pushes you towards her, then leans down to kiss your cheek.

He knows you hate to leave him standing there.

“Go, sit with your grandma.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, of course babe. Go.” He kisses your cheek again then pushes you towards the sofa.

As you settle in, giving him another look of consideration, your grandma takes your hand and holds it gently plucking a smile from your worried expression.

“He’s okay, no one is going to take him from you.”

Not that you think anyone would, but it’s a common phrase among couples who are glued at the hip.

As your grandma’s old cuckoo clock chimes in midnight, your dad points at your cousin Claudia who gets up and quickly shuts off the living room light leaving all of you in the glow of the white twinkle lights.

As your dad begins to call out names, the kids scoot closer in excitement and watch as they’re each handed gifts after gifts.

Eventually the floor begins to fill with crumpled up wrapping paper and colorful bows and ribbon. Toys are yanked from boxes and the laughter begins to fill the room again.

Your aunts and uncles also get their names called and you don’t feel bad that your name is never called.

They had no idea you were coming and your Tia Magge leans towards you, “I’m sorry we didn’t get you anything, Mija. We didn’t know you were coming.”

“Oh, I know, Tia. It’s okay. I just wanted to see you all and bring Steve to meet you.”

As you gesture towards where you left him standing, you find him missing but think nothing of it as he might have just gone to the bathroom.

There are only two gifts left under the tree, one very large one which your dad calls out for your grandpa, and then he pulls a shoe sized box, wrapped in silver paper onto his lap but gestures at your grandma who lets go of your hand and begins to call names out and pass the envelopes with money to the kids.

Because you can’t stand sitting there any longer, the mess on the floor still growing, you get up and move into the kitchen.

Trash bag in hand you move back out to the living room and begin to stoop over and pick up the wrappings of all the presents exchanged tonight.

Your grandma calls out Claudia’s name and as the teen sits back down, your dad clears his throat.

“We have one more gift, and it’s for my beautiful daughter,” he says, shocking you into standing as he calls your name.

“Me?!” you gasp, completely in shock.

You hadn’t been expecting anything though you and Steve had definitely brought gifts for everyone.

Your gift had been the ability to see such bright smiles as they opened said presents.

“Here,” your dad holds it out and you let go of the trash bag as Claudia takes it from you.

With a quick wipe of your brow, you take the gift and look for a name so that you’ll know who to thank, but there’s no name.

“Open it!” One of the younger kids says with excitement.

“Yeah, rip it!” another urges.

“Rip it?” you chuckle, and rip it.

It is indeed a shoebox, but as you lift the lid and place it underneath, you find in the shoebox another box, slightly smaller, also sealed up tight this time in pink shiny wrapping paper..

“Oh my God,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

You open that box too, tossing the wrapping paper to Claudia who tosses it for you as you find yourself staring at yet another box, wrapped in green snowflake paper.

“What the hell is going on here?” you laugh again, tearing it open and finding a smaller one.

This goes on and your family laughs at you as you open box after box after box, until finally the smallest box is the size of laptop charging block.

“How the hell does anyone even find a box this small?!” you gasp, shaking your head as your shoulders shake with laughter.

You tear the last box open, discarding the bright red paper then open the top to find a small black velvet bag with a drawstring pulled shut.

“Finally!”

Your exclamation brings laughter from the room and as you pull the bag open, you turn it over since the room is in semi-darkness and you can’t see in.

Onto your palm tumbles a silver ring. Sitting on top is an emerald cut diamond, solitaire, that glimmers in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

“What the-?” you start, but from the hallway behind your mom emerges Steve, looking nervous as fuck.

He swallows hard as he walks towards you, stopping only when he’s right in front of you then slowly, as butterflies tumble violently in your lower belly, he kneels.

“Oh my God…” you whisper, too shocked to speak any louder.

He says your name, clears his throat because his voice shakes, and you smile, on the verge of laughing or crying. You’re not sure which.

“In just about a week we’ll have been together for exactly one year, but I’ve known since you pulled that bullet out of my a-my backside and called me a big baby for whining about it that you were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

“Both of us work in a very dangerous job but I don’t think I know anyone else who is as brave or strong or sure of themselves as you. I wasn’t sure what to expect from life after I gave up being Captain America.

“Suddenly there were an infinite amount of possibilities ahead of me and yet, not once did I think that marrying anyone would be the path I’d take. I’d given up on love, on the chance of a normal life, but you’ve woken me up. You’ve pulled me out of my past and with you I can see that future we talked about the other morning.

“I see my life as your husband and father to our kids laid out in front of us and I can’t wait to get started. So, I guess, I just need to ask?”

Your family laughs, reminding you that you two are not alone.

“You’ve always said that if someone proposed to you, you wouldn’t want it to be in public and well, these people are your family so they’re not public. They represent a life I would very much like to be a part of. I’ve had no one for so long, I want this family, so will you marry me? Will you let me be a part of your family?”

You’re in shambles. You’re sobbing, smiling through the waterworks as your heart pounds so hard in your chest and all of the oxygen threatens to leave your brain.

“Yes!” you gasp, and the room explodes with cheers and applause.

Steve takes the ring and quickly slips it onto your finger before rising and pulling you flush against his body. He kisses you eagerly, laughing against your own lips as you kiss him back just as passionately.

As he pulls back, an audible smack snuffed out by the roar of excitement in the room, you search his eyes for any form of doubt.

There’s none.

“Is this what you were talking to daddy about? Asking me to marry you?”

“It was the right thing to do,” Steve explains, and you feel vindicated in your earlier suspicions.

“Jerk!” you smack his chest but he pulls you in for another kiss.

The two of you share in the moment for only one more second before your grandmother is pulling you two apart so that she can hug you and kiss Steve’s cheek. Your mom is also in tears, hugging you tight as your dad hugs you both, then shakes Steve’s hand before pulling him in for a quick hug.

There’s a terrifying POP that sends you and Steve ducking from instinct, but you find your grandpa holding up a bottle of champagne.

“¿Dónde está la música? Turn on the radio! Let’s celebrate!” He shouts, lifting the bottle to his lips.

As the kids spring up and split up throughout the household to play with their toys, your aunts and uncles begin to pair off, swaying and singing at the very top of their lungs as Feliz Navidad fills the room.

Steve makes his way back towards you, swerving past your excited family until he has his arms around you again, pulling you in close until he can sway you to the beat of the music.

“I’m guessing the party is just getting started?”

“Oh, babe, you just gave them the fuel to go until the sun comes up.”

Steve chuckles leans down to kiss you again, summoning an encore of cheers.

#steve x reader #steve x mexican american reader #steve rogers x mexican american reader #captain america x reader #christmas fanfiction #steve x reader fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #tamales and christmas lights

303 notes · View notes

kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

cause & effect || chapter 2

➵ your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask.

warnings: f!reader

wc: 1.1k

m.list | ch. 1 ↞ ch. 2 ↠ ch. 3

last time...

“Can you pretend to be my girlfriend for the next month or so?”

It takes a moment for the question to really, truly click in your mind.

“I’m sorry, what?”

✧ ✧ ✧

“Just for the holiday period,” he says, almost reflexively.

“Can’t you just… get a girlfriend?” You snort, raising an eyebrow at him. It shouldn’t be too hard for a guy like him, right? “I’m sure someone’ll date you just because you’re tall.”

“I will. When I have time,” Kuroo grins, shaking his head. “I’m a working man, you know. And haven’t you seen all those surveys on just how lonely we Japanese men are? Truly, it’s tragic.”

You snort, looking him up and down. Somehow, you just can’t imagine him not getting at least a little attention. And you’ve heard people whisper about him during coffee breaks and in bathrooms. If he wants someone to play at being his girlfriend, you’re sure some of the women at the office would do a much better job than you can. They’d at least have the adoring gaze down pat.

“Why do you need a girlfriend?” You ask.

“Fake girlfriend.”

“Whatever,” you grin, rolling your eyes.

He sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. You wonder if he ever brushes it.

“My grandma keeps setting me up for miai meetings.”

You blink at him, your eyes large and owlish. “Really? Miai meetings?”

Kuroo nods.

Now, that was unexpected. “You’re the first person I’ve met whose done those.”

Kuroo chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s not willingly, trust me…”

You bite your lip. You know it’s a thing that happens, and you know that it might even work for some people. But the thought of Kuroo sitting through a miai when he was this young… God, that made you feel old. And you really weren’t.

“But you’re only twenty-four.” You don’t mean to say it, but it slips out.

Kuroo doesn’t seem to take offense. He shrugs. “They’re worried I’m getting lonely or something.”

“Are you?”

Kuroo grins, raising an eyebrow at you. “That’s a bit forward, isn’t it?”

“Well if I’m going to pretend to be your girlfriend, I’ll have to know these kinds of things, won’t I?” You scoff.

“If you’re going to pretend to be my girlfriend, then whether or not I’m lonely won’t matter,” he says.

You bite your tongue at that.

You turn the idea over in your head a few times. Pretending to date Kuroo Tetsurou…

It’s not the worst thing you can think of. He’s pleasant to spend time with, and he’s a nice guy. You know that a few people in your office might be a little jealous of the fact that you’ve been granted this opportunity; you’re almost ready to say yes based off that alone.

But, something’s stopping you. Something prodding at the back of your mind.

“Isn’t it a bit…” You pause, biting your lip.

“A bit…”

“You know…” You wave a hand at him, searching for the words. Everything is too mild or too intense. “Ethically dubious to lie to your family about this?” You look up at him as you ask, apprehension evident in your face.

Kuroo sighs, chewing on his lip. “I mean… Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected him to be so frank.

“But…” His brow creases, and suddenly he looks a couple years older. “I don’t want them worrying about me over the Christmas break. I want them to be able to have fun and not stress themselves into an early grave just because I have bad luck with women.”

You laugh at that.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at you in response.

Was that… not a joke? But surely… He has the aunties at the office wrapped around his finger. And that’s not even touching on the younger women who also consider him quite the catch.

But you don’t miss the bit about his family. How he wants them to relax. And as you look at his face, you can see that he means every word. There’s an almost painful sincerity etched across every feature, and his head bends towards you in such a way that he looks like he’s about to bow.

You digress. “I’m not sure…”

“Please.” He almost sounds like he’s pleading. “My obaa-chan is a really good cook. It’ll be worth your time.”

You ignore how your heart goes thump-thump at the fact he just referred to his grandmother as, ‘my obaa-chan.’

You’re not sure if it’s the right thing to do.

Kuroo almost sounds desperate. But isn’t it bad to give people false hope, especially in a situation like this? Lying to his family about his love life? But then again, he could very well bring a real romantic prospect home, only to break up with them once Christmas is over.

Not that he’s the type of guy to just pick up a girl and exploit her like that. Well, maybe he is; but he’s never seemed that way to you. And hell, he could’ve just asked you out under false pretences, but instead he was being upfront about this.

But then again…

“I’ll buy you boba for a year.”

You pause, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

Now that’s a proposition.

“You sure?” You ask, looking up at him.

He pauses for a moment, his brow furrowing. “I have a feeling I’ll come to regret it, but sure.”

You grin, the weight of twelve months’ worth of boba expenses flying off your shoulders. “It’s a deal.”

Kuroo’s shoulders slump forward as he lets out a sigh of relief.

You chuckle, patting him on the back. “That nervous, huh?”

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d said no.”

“Couldn’t you have just roped someone else into it?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

Kuroo shakes his head. “No. I thought it’d be most believable with you.”

Your heart stutters at that.

“I didn’t mean anything by that.” The words tumble out like an avalanche on a mountainside, tripping over each other on their way down. “I just, I meant that… that we get along pretty well, so…”

You wave a hand at him, offering him a tight smile. “It’s okay. I get it.”

You don’t, really. But he visibly relaxes at the lie.

You look at the boba shop around you. The line has barely moved. You wonder if you’ll actually be able to get your milk tea before your break runs out.

“It’ll only be a couple of gatherings, I promise,” Kuroo murmurs, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he yawns.

You nod. In all honest, you’re not quite sure what you’ve just signed up for. What ‘fake dating’ even entails. But when Kuroo looks at you with such gratitude, you can’t find the caution in your heart to regret saying ‘yes’.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsurou x you #cause and effect by rowan #queued

311 notes · View notes

farfromsugafanfic · 3 years

Text

Sutures - Chapter Five: Murmurs

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of family illness, a disgusting amount of fluff

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

"Sumi!" Jungkook called. "Can you do us a favor?"

Jungkook and Jimin stood outside your door. You could tell they were up to something based on the smirk on their faces.

You had been quietly knitting, trying to forget the events of earlier that day with Minki and what happened in the backseat with Yoongi. You still felt Yoongi's lips on your stomach, soft, yet, demanding. He hadn't managed to leave any marks this time, which you were grateful for, but part of you wished you could have a reminder of the secret between you.

"What?" you asked.

"Yoongi was going to wake up at four to help us with the production on the new song. And it's almost four thirty now. Can you wake him up for us?"

You glanced at the two boys who while they seemed mischievous, seemed genuinely like they didn't want the task of having to wake up Yoongi.

"Why can't you do it?" you asked, putting aside the hat you were currently working on.

"He'll be nicer to you," Jungkook said. "He's grumpy when he wakes up."

You laughed slightly. "All right, fine."

You followed the two boys towards Yoongi's bedroom. You hadn't stepped foot in his bedroom yet, having only been in his studio. You opened the door slowly and tiptoed towards the bed where the boy's form was curled up asleep. Despite being taller than you, when he slept he made himself look so small, his knees curled up towards his chest and his arms around a pillow.

"Yoongi," you said, lightly shaking his shoulder. "The boys said you wanted to get up at four. It's four thirty."

You hear an annoyed groan and before you could protest, Yoongi dropped the pillow and pulled you onto the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder and you felt the soft scratch of his barely there facial hair.

"Sleep with me," he whispered, his hot breath tickling your ear.

You reached up to the pillow above you and threw it back towards him, hearing it hit with a solid thud.

"Fuck you." You attempted to squirm from his grasp, your legs kicking the covers and his legs. Yet, he never loosened his grip.

"Already have," he whispered, his voice husky. You felt his smirk against your shoulder blades and for a moment you thought he would begin kissing you again. But, as you reached for another pillow, his arms released from around you.

You got up from the bed and walked out of his room, his scent clinging to your clothes. You stopped to glance at Jungkook and Jimin who stood by the door, wide eyed at what they witnessed. You could only imagine what it looked like to them: Yoongi pulling you onto the bed and kissing you as you playfully tried to push him away.

"I see why no one likes waking him up."

The two boys awkwardly nodded and walked into Yoongi's bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

You couldn't help but laugh slightly at the boy's assumptions before walking back towards your bedroom at the end of the hall.

---

You hadn't spoken to your parents since before the night you and Yoongi met. You didn't call much due to the long distance charges to the US, but you figured you needed to update them about everything.

"Hello?" your mom answered the phone. "Sumi?"

"Hi mom," you said. "How's everything?"

"Good, busy as always. But, don't worry about us, how is my daughter?"

"Well, there's a lot that's happened since I talked to you last."

You explained the situation, careful not to tell your mom too much. You knew if you explained that you'd had a one night stand your mom would be disappointed and scold you. Despite being an ocean away in California, your mother still managed to make you feel like you were a fifteen-year-old again who got caught sneaking out.

"Oh, I'm so happy you finally got rid of Minki," your mother said. "I never liked him. And I can't wait to meet this soulmate of yours, what did you say his name was again?"

---

"Min Yoongi," Yoongi heard as he walked towards your room on the way to the bathroom. He stopped, noticing the small crack in your door. He wondered if you had managed to see him in the hallway, but as he approached he noticed that you were pacing around your room.

"No, mom, don't Google..." You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. "I get it, mom," you said laughing. "He's cute."

You didn't talk for a moment, but you cutely chewed on your bottom lip which made Yoongi want to replace your teeth with his own. He pushed back the thought as you spoke again.

"Well, we all agreed it would be best for me to move in with his band so that his career wouldn't be affected and I could continue working online or once things get better do in-person sessions."

You went silent again. Yoongi couldn't hear what your mother was saying because she was speaking so quickly.

"I know, mom," you said. "I'll be careful. The only trouble we've had has been with Minki. His fans don't know."

Yoongi's stomach turned. Guilt.

"At first, I wanted to go along with what the doctor's said and do the relationship, but I'm glad we didn't now. It may be harder for a while, but we barely knew each other and asking one another to put in effort to a relationship neither one of us wanted didn't make sense."

Despite your words being Yoongi's rationale, they felt so harsh coming from your mouth. He was glad the arrangement had become easier for you, but there was part of him that felt disappointed.

---

"How's grandma?" you asked, once your mom had finally calmed down about Yoongi. She had taken it better than you expected her to, however, you were slightly worried she was expecting grandchildren any day.

"Good," your mom answered. "The doctors say her treatment is going well. As they say, no news is good news."

You sigh, wishing you could be in the US with your family, but you stayed behind to go to school and by the time you finished, you already had a life you didn't want to leave in Korea. You visited as often as you and your parents could afford, but that was normally only at the holidays.

You had no siblings and many of your parent's siblings were also in the US or in Busan. Seoul was a lonely city, but you made it work.

"All right, well take care of her and yourself, okay, mom? And tell dad I miss him."

You ended the call after you both said your goodbyes. You sighed in relief at having finally explained the situation to your family, but you couldn't help the worry that formed in your stomach. You were normally able to suppress the constant worry about your grandmother, but every time you talked to your mom it always seemed to worsen.

---

Yoongi stepped away from your door once you hung up, so he wouldn't be discovered. He felt a small pang of guilt from eavesdropping, but your door was open and you had been talking about him. He pushed it away, knowing it really didn't matter.

He walked back to his studio and sat down at his desk, Jungkook and Jimin listening to their vocals. He wondered what was up with your grandma, while it didn't seem out of place to ask how she was doing, the way your brow had furled and the way you chewed your lip nervously made him think that there was something else going on.

"Yoongi?" Jimin asked, taking off his headphones. "Everything okay?"

Yoongi shook himself out of it.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry, not awake yet."

---

"Sumi," Namjoon said, knocking politely on your bedroom door. "Do you want to come and help me work out some lyrics?"

You looked at the leader in somewhat disbelief, your eyes wide and your lips pursed.

"Me?" you asked. "Wouldn't one of the boys be better?"

"Maybe," he said. "But, it's not often we get a perspective of someone outside of the industry, and you've been in your room since you got back. I know it was tough to face your ex and thought you might like some company."

You smiled, Namjoon was so perceptive, you wondered if he could read your mind. You realized how much easier it would be if you were his soulmate instead of Yoongi's. Namjoon understood you and always seemed to know how to make you feel better.

"You can bring your project with you," he said, leaving towards his studio and leaving the door open for you.

You followed the leader to his studio, which had fewer obstacles to enter than Yoongi's. Although, once you entered it was largely similar. A simple design with a few decorations and various awards hung on the wall.

He pulled up a chair beside him and motioned for you to sit down beside him. You sat down and looked over all the equipment on his desk. A normal desktop with multiple monitors, other things you didn't recognize, like a machine with various knobs and switches, and a microphone.

You remembered seeing most of the same equipment in Yoongi's studio, except he had a keyboard he kept in the center of everything. The black and white keys almost taking over the room.

Namjoon opened up a notebook with various notes in it. You even noticed a few notes in English, making you smile and remember that the two of you shared the language in common.

"How'd you get into music?" you asked in English.

"I always liked music," he said, also responding in English. "I read a lot and eventually it translated into writing. I don't know, it all just kind of happened naturally."

You smiled, noting the way his face lit up as he talked about his passion, his dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"I understand," you said. "I always liked to teach people when they learned that I speak English. I should've charged when I was in high school for all the tutoring I did, but I enjoyed it enough that I didn't care."

"What about knitting?" he asked.

"I was always crafty," you said, laughing. "Whenever I visited my grandmother in the US, she always had a knitting project and she talked about how it calmed her, made her realize she had more control over her fate than she believed. She used to tell me stories about the Fates in Greek mythology and how knitting made her feel like one." You looked down at your project--a black hat. "So, whenever I feel out of control, I knit. Sometimes, I don't even know what I'm making until it's finished."

You quickly bound off the yarn and slapped the finished hat on Namjoon's head, giggling. You expected him to take it off immediately and hand it back, but instead, he used the nearest computer monitor to adjust it so it sat over his hair attractively.

"It looks nice," you said.

---

The two of you worked in comfortable silence, the hat you made still sitting on Namjoon's dyed hair. You'd started a new hat with the same black yarn. You wondered if he had a girlfriend to give it to. You and Minki always used to wear matching hats or scarfs or gloves. He took whatever you made him wholeheartedly. They were probably still sitting in the top drawer of his dresser. You wished you could unravel the yarn and turn them back into a tangled ball of string.

Namjoon would occasionally run a line past you or hum a melody without realizing. You even found yourself humming the same melody back to him and when you did, he always shot you a small smile.

"Let's see what fans think of my new hat," he said, taking a selfie with his phone.

"Wait! Don't post that! Won't they think you have a girlfriend or something?"

He gave you an odd look before looking down at the picture.

"Does Yoongi have you that paranoid? If anyone questions it, I'll just say a fan made it," he said. "Not exactly a lie."

Your shoulders slumped realizing the easy solution. It was true that since the shoe incident, you were scared to be visible in the boys' lives. Their careers meant more to them than it did to you. You could be an English tutor nearly anywhere and no one could take knitting from you, but their music could be taken from them. You didn't want to be the reason they lost their passions.

"Come on," he said. "I have to go run this past Yoongi. You're welcome to come along."

You followed Namjoon to Yoongi's studio, taking your yarn and knitting needles with you. Namjoon rang the doorbell to Yoongi's studio and you had to stop yourself from laughing at the ritual of it all.

Yoongi came and opened the door. He greeted Namjoon and while he seemed slightly surprised to see you, held the door open to you.

"She's great to bounce lyrics off," Namjoon said. "Surprised you haven't picked up on that yet."

You sat down on the couch in the back of the studio while the two boys discussed the lyrics and the song. You took the opportunity to go on Twitter, seeing the picture of Namjoon in the hat. All of the fans complimented him, telling him he looked cute and demanding he go to bed because it was late. You smiled, hoping that if the fans ever found out about you, they would have similar reactions.

You went back to knitting, but couldn't help and look up when you heard the sound of the piano. Yoongi was playing the melody Namjoon had been humming earlier and you were impressed by his ability to translate the hums into notes so quickly.

His fingers slide over the keys naturally--the keys an extension of his fingers--much like the needles you held. Yoongi was serious, but unlike his normal seriousness which was grumpy or sexy (depending on the day), this time he was focused. His lips slightly pouted and his body relaxed.

Music for him was the knitting to you. It was the creation that helped you escape yourself to feel the smoothness of the keys or the needles beneath your fingers and trust that something beautiful would come from it.

---

You had fallen asleep by the time Yoongi and Namjoon had finished; still occasionally moving your fingers, trying to knit in your sleep. Yoongi smiled, remembering the times he woke up in the studio seeing the notes he'd unknowingly composed while he was asleep.

"Do you want me to wake her up?" Namjoon asked.

"No," Yoongi said, shaking his head. "Let's not disturb her."

Namjoon nodded, grabbing his notebook and leaving the room. He closed the door softly so he wouldn't wake you.

Yoongi looked down at your sleeping form. It seemed he'd seen you sleeping nearly as much as he'd seen you awake since the first time you met. The night you spent together, you'd fallen asleep first, cuddling into his side. Normally, he wasn't the cuddling type, at least not with a girl he'd just met, but seeing the lipstick smeared across your pouty lips and your tangled hair spread out across the pillow, he hadn't been able to resist.

He grabbed your knitting needles and yarn, setting them on the edge of his desk, within your sight so you could easily find them in the morning. It wasn't the first time he'd moved your knitting needles, for something you loved so much, you often left them laying around. Yoongi opened the bottom drawer of his desk where he kept a blanket for when his studio was cold or when he fell asleep while working.

He covered your form before shutting off the light and leaving the room quietly.

56 notes · View notes

comradelup · 3 years

Text

@taz-channukah-event / dec 17th: author’s choice!

“Yeah… no, I get it… I’ll tell them, we’ll be fine,” Taako says into the phone, peering out the curtain. The snow falls in big fat flakes, and there’s billions of them. He can barely see the end of the driveway.

He walks away from the window and starts pacing back and forth, very much aware of the three pairs of eyes on him.

“We should just be a tiny bit late, it isn’t that bad,” Lup says over the phone.

“They can’t hear you, Lu.”

“…Yeah, we won’t make it.”

Taako sighs heavily, a hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Okay. That’s fine.”

“It’s not! We wanna spend Channukah with our babies!” Lup whines, sounding very much like a baby herself.

“Well, first off, your youngest is five, hardly babies,” Taako says, sending a grin the kids’ way as he says it. Gordie, the five year old in question, giggles. “Second, it’s just one night, they’ll be fine.”

“…I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am!” Taako says jovially, placing a hand on his hip and winking at the kids. “Uncle Taako’s always right!”

“Yeah!” the kids cheer, and he can tell Lup heard it, because she laughs wetly.

“It’s settled then!” Taako announces, adopting a goofy gesture as he addresses his sister. “You and Daddy hide at Grandma Marlena’s house, while Uncle Taako and his anklebiter army fights off the snowstorm monster!”

Gordie and Izzy giggle at that; Jo is the oldest and least entertained by this but they still smile at the silliness, which makes Taako feel a little less bad about how ridiculous he must look right now. He’s learned that uncle-hood means a lot of sacrificing your dignity for kids.

Izzy says, “Can we say bye to Mommy?”

“Duh!” Taako says, and he puts the phone on speaker to let the kids yell at Lup.

He lets them trade goodbyes and “Happy Channukah”s and everything else that parents and kids talk about. Once the call’s over, he pockets his phone and claps his hands together.

“So! We’re home alone with free reign of the place.” He leans down to grin conspiratorially at them. “What do we do first?”

“Let’s make latkes!” Gordie exclaims.

“I wanna play dreidel,” Izzy says.

“And what about you, fireball?” Taako asks Jo.

“I, uh… I gotta go to the bathroom,” Jo says quickly, standing up and darting away.

That’s… probably something to look into later. But for now Taako lets them go, yelling after them, “Make sure to wash your hands, dirty bird!”

The other two giggle, as intended. Taako crouches before them and says to Gordie, “But I guess I should be telling you that, huh pipsqueak?”

Izzy laughs at him. “Yeah, babies need their diaper changed.”

“I’m not a baby! I’m five,” Gordie says, holding up his hand for emphasis.

“Oh yeah? Well I’m seven,” Izzy says, holding up seven whole fingers while blowing a raspberry.

“And I’m four hundred and twenty-three,” Taako says, “Count that on your fingers.”

Izzy stares at her hands, trying to find a way to do that, but Taako scoops up Gordie into his arms before they get too into math, yuck.

“I’m up for latkes! Who said latkes?” he asks, spinning Gordie in a big circle to elicit a laugh from him.

“I did!” Gordie cheers.

“Then let’s go, latke boy!” Taako says, making an airplane noise as he flies Gordie into the kitchen, Izzy trailing after and saying something about getting a turn.

(Of course, she gets one. The duties of an uncle includes nearly tossing a tiefling girl into the air and not impaling yourself on the way down. At least she’s not the one who bursts into flame when too excited.)

They’re almost done with their first batch of pancakes when Jo leaves the bathroom. They sit down at the kitchen island looking rather gloomy. That’s not gonna fly, not in Taako’s (sister’s) kitchen.

“Hey, you’re ten, not sixteen, no emo angst,” Taako tells them, pointing a spatula at their face.

“I’m not emo,” they reply, sounding… empty.

Taako might not be as good an uncle as he thought; his kids shouldn’t be sounding like that.

“Gordie, Izzy,” Taako says, turning to his little sous-chefs. He tasked Izzy with (carefully) grating potatoes for their second batch and Gordie with cracking an egg into a bowl and (gently) beating it. But they both stop what they’re doing and turn to him.

He plasters on a mischievous smile and says, “Go into the guest room and get the dreidels from my bag on the bed. I brought all of my collection, so pick your favorites.”

The two practically get stars in their eyes and run off to go retrieve the tops. Taako turns back to his pan.

“Spit it out, what’s up with you?” He doesn’t phrase it as a question.

“…I don’t wanna talk about it,” Jo says.

“Is it ‘cause your parents aren’t here?” Taako asks, and his voice gets softer. He glances over in time to see Jo nod silently.

He sighs. At this age, Jo won’t be distracted from stuff with games and food, they actually think broadly. Fuck, Angus is their age and look at all the thinking he does! …Point is, Taako should’ve expected this.

“Listen,” he says, unable to have a formal heart to heart due to having to keep an eye on the food. “I know it sucks, I want ‘em here too. You think I’m happy spending a Channukah night without my twin sister? No way.”

“Then why are you acting like this?” Jo asks, looking impatient. “Don’t just pretend they aren’t here!”

“I’m not pretending, I’m distracting. Look, your siblings would whine and cry if I acted like you are right now. Do you want them to cry?”

“…No.”

“No, ‘cause I don’t wanna deal with the headache that’d give me,” Taako jokes, but Jo doesn’t smile. Taako sighs, moves the pan off the heat, and leans on the island across from them.

“I get that you're sad and I’m not telling you to not miss them, I get it. But we’ll see them tomorrow, and we can all spend the last night together.”

“But… I just miss them,” Jo says, and they’re pouting a little.

“I know kid, me too,” Taako says, “But! That’s the point of me being all upbeat and shit— don’t say that word.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. See, your parents would be mad or sad or whatever if they think you didn’t have any fun. All they want is for you to enjoy the holiday. Like, they’re probably having tons of fun at your grandma’s.”

(Lup and Barry are probably cuddled up on a loveseat and telling stories of the kids to Marlena; fun for them, but Taako would’ve fallen asleep five minutes in.)

Jo still doesn’t look totally convinced. Time to break out the big guns.

Taako leans in as close as he can while his feet are still touching the ground. “You wanna know the secrets to cheating at dreidel?”

Jo looks up at him. “You can cheat?”

“Oh yeah,” Taako says with a smirk. “She doesn’t do it with you kids, but your mom is the queen at cheating at that game. She would walk away from the table with her arms full of gelt.”

Jo looks delighted. Lup never lets her chaotic side show in front of the kids, so Taako’s stories about it are guaranteed to be attention grabbers.

“I can show you how she does it, if you want.”

“Yes,” Jo says, leaning in with their hands on the table. They may be adopted, but that wicked grin on their face just screams Lup.

“But you gotta promise that it doesn’t leave this kitchen, got it?” Taako asks. They can’t have the other two learning about it and they especially can’t have their parents learning he taught them.

“Promise.”

Taako smirks and stands back up to go back to his cooking. “Good.”

Soon they were all gathered around the dining room table with bellies full of latkes and trading gelt back and forth. Taako winks over every cheated spin, and Jo is laughing.

That’s the reaction uncles should be getting. Much better.

#taz #taz balance #taz fic #taz channukah #tazchannukah #txt #writing #balance #taako #gordie #izzy #jo #i guess i have tags for my ocs now. fun!#Please Talk To Me About My OCs Because I Love Them #happy hanukkah!!! feat. that Good uncle content #also Please Please Please lemme know if anything is inaccurate and i’ll fix it #taako may be a bit of a jerk to ango but he fully adores these kids

62 notes · View notes

aerinsfables · 3 years

Note

📝7️⃣🙇‍♀️

:) :)

Flower Shop AU, part 7 below.

Read part 6 here!

---

That had to have been one of the most energetic games of volleyball Bracken had ever been involved with in his life. Granted, he hadn’t actually played volleyball since high school PE classes, but still. The amount of banter which had gone between mostly Seth and Warren had been quite amusing to observe, and when Tanu joined in on the teasing, it became even funnier.

Warren had claimed a partnership with Tanu as soon as he reached the net, which left Seth with Bracken; a mistake, Bracken thought, which Warren would not soon forget. Seth and Bracken were a pretty formidable team, and they found their balance with one another very quickly. Bracken had always possessed a natural talent of quick reflexes and good coordination, and it appeared that Seth was similarly inclined. They worked well together. Tanu and Warren were both also good at the game, but were not always on the same page with each other, which led to Warren diving into Tanu’s shins once and Tanu knocking heads with Warren another time.

He had to admit, this was nice. The camaraderie, the friendly teasing and banter, the smiles and obvious love each of these people held for one another… it was nice.

Perhaps Father had had a point about it being time for Bracken to come out of his shell.

“20-17,” Seth announced as he served the ball across the net. Warren returned it, Bracken popped it over again, and the ball was passed back and forth several times before Tanu just barely missed it and the ball landed on his side of the court.

“Boo,” Vanessa yelled from where she sat. “Warren, I thought you said you were going to kick Seth’s butt.”

“Working on it,” Warren replied. Tanu fetched the ball and tossed it back over to Seth so he could serve it again.

“You’re not doing a great job,” she replied.

Warren turned around and pointed at her. “Why don’t you come join us, then, Miss I-Can-Do-Anything-Better-Than-You?”

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed and she turned to the others who were still around the unlit fire pit. “Anyone else want to join in? Mara? Dale? Kendra?”

Kendra started to shake her head no, but Dale stood up and planted a hand on her shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Some exercise will do you good. Besides, we can’t let them think they’re better than we are, now, can we?”

A semi-smile crossed Kendra’s face, and she stood up. Dale gave her a quick hug and walked toward the net with his arm around her shoulders. Vanessa and Mara followed behind them.

“Who’s joining whose team?” Seth asked.

“I’m with Warren and Tanu,” Vanessa announced. “Mara’s with me.”

“That leaves us with Seth and Bracken,” Dale said. “My heart is broken, Vanessa. I thought you loved me.”

“Oh, I do, sweetheart. Somebody has to babysit your brother, though.”

“I do not need babysitting.”

“Sure looked like it from where I was sitting,” Vanessa replied.

Bracken deeply enjoyed all of the playfulness around him. Kendra had been correct when she’d told him that her family was a lively bunch.

“Welcome to our normal,” Kendra mumbled as she walked over to him. She wore a tired smile on her face.

“I am very entertained,” he admitted. “Are you alright?”

She replied with a sort of half shrug. “I don’t really feel like playing volleyball right now, but Dale is right. We have to kick Warren’s butt.”

Seth gave Kendra an enthusiastic grin and called to the other side of the net. “Did you hear that? Kendra just said we’re gonna cream you all.”

“Kendra should put her money where her mouth is,” Warren retorted. “Serve the ball, Seth!”

—————-

Lunch was ready before their game ended, and all parties had opted for food in lieu of continuing to play. Both teams had achieved roughly the same score up to that point, which was pretty exhilarating; it had been a very long time since Bracken had played a competitive sport, and he’d enjoyed the experience.

His phone alerted him to a new text message while everyone was eating lunch and chatting with one another. He gave it a quick glance, typed out a reply, sent his message and placed it back in his pocket.

“Is everything okay?” Kendra asked. She sat opposite from him at one of the picnic tables which had been set up on the deck. Scott and Marla shared this particular table, and the other attendees sat at additional ones.

“Yes, everything’s fine. One of the farms my family purchases a lot of flowers from likes to set up stalls at a local farmer’s market on Saturdays, and with Mother’s Day coming up in a couple weeks, they’ve asked for help with creating bouquets that weekend. It’s something I’ve helped them with for the past few years,” he explained.

“Which market?” Scott asked.

“It’s downtown,” Bracken replied. “Not too far from the flower shop and Warren and Dale’s café.”

“Oh, the one on 2nd Street?” Marla asked. “I like to go there to buy fresh produce. I don’t remember seeing you there before, though.”

“I usually only help them on Mother’s Day weekend,” Bracken explained. “Otherwise, I work in the shop on Saturdays.”

“Which farm is it?” Marla asked. “There are two or three different ones I can think of that sell flowers every weekend.”

“Bluebell,” Bracken said. “They usually have two or three stands in front of their tables where they put finished bouquets for customers to choose from, and their event tent is a light blue. It’s a family-run business as well. The parents and I put bouquets together all morning while the other son and their daughter handle the money and customer service part.”

“Interesting,” Scott stated. “I’m guessing their stall is pretty busy that particular weekend.”

Bracken nodded. “It’s their busiest day. Bouquets are purchased as quickly as they’re made. It’s typically a pretty busy weekend for our shop, as well, but the difference is that my family’s store receives probably 95% of our orders in advance of the holiday, whereas Bluebell creates and sells on the spot. It’s easy for my parents to handle the few customers who pop in that Saturday for quick arrangements. In exchange for our help here and there, Bluebell offers discounts to my family on the flowers we purchase from them.”

“A business move,” Kendra supplied.

“Yes,” he agreed. “We’ve worked with them for many years now. They’re practically family at this point.”

“Well. We might have to come visit you that weekend, then,” Marla said with a smile. “I don’t usually buy flowers, but it might be nice to grab a bouquet for once.”

“I buy you flowers,” Scott corrected. He sounded perhaps a little wounded in Bracken’s opinion.

Marla waved her hand at Scott. “I know, dear. I meant that I don’t usually buy flowers,” she said. “It might be nice to choose a bouquet for myself.”

Ruth walked up to their table and patted Scott’s shoulder. “Elise is here,” she announced. “She brought an assortment of little desserts. You four should go get some before Seth finds out.” Scott and Marla laughed and followed Ruth back inside the house.

Bracken looked up as another woman, presumably Elise, stepped out onto the back porch. She wore a loose-fitting tank top which showed off the tattoos on her upper arms, a studded nose ring in one nostril, and her hair was a stylish undercut on one side of her head. He remembered what Kendra had told him about Elise dating Mara, and he found it interesting that such different people were attracted to one another. Mara was much more conservative in appearance, and also seemed a little standoffish (at least to him, anyway), whereas Elise exuded very welcoming vibes.

Kendra smiled when she saw her. “Elise!” she called. She stood up and embraced her.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Elise said. “How are you doing?”

Kendra shrugged. “I’m fine. How are you? You look gorgeous. I love your hair!”

“Awww, thanks,” she replied. “It’s not totally done yet. I want to get it dyed, but haven’t decided on which color I want. Maybe orange.” She made eye contact with Bracken. “I’m Elise,” she said, and held out her hand to him in introduction.

“I’m Bracken,” he replied as he also stood up and shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” she replied. She quickly looked him up and down, then whispered into Kendra’s ear loudly enough for him to hear, “Where’d you find this handsome man?”

His face started to warm up at her words, and he averted his gaze to the table. It wasn’t necessarily uncommon for people to remark on his appearance, but he felt a little awkward about it whenever it happened.

Kendra cleared her throat. “Bracken made the bouquet I sent you a picture of last week. He’s one of the florists from the shop across the street from Warren and Dale’s place.”

“A man with creativity and a little sass, hmm? I approve.” Elise nodded her head. She then laughed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird. Mostly. If you’ll excuse me, though, I need to go hug the rest of my people.” She bounced on the balls of her feet a couple of times before she gave Kendra one more hug and ran off toward her girlfriend.

A small laugh escaped from Kendra, and a fleeting thought of how pretty her genuine smile was ran through Bracken’s head. “She seems nice,” he said.

“She is,” Kendra replied. “She’s like a favorite aunt, or cousin.”

“Elise brought dessert!” Seth shouted from the other side of the deck. He let out a loud whoop of excitement and ran for the kitchen. Bracken laughed.

“Grandma was serious about getting some before Seth takes it all,” Kendra warned.

Bracken shrugged. “It won’t hurt me to forego a little sugar. I don’t mind. Today.” He smiled. “Would you like some? I can fight him for a piece of cake for you.”

That elicited another genuine laugh from her, which broadened his own smile. “Thank you, but I’ve eaten roughly my weight in ice cream this week and should probably refrain from further sugar consumption as well.”

He wanted to hug her, but wasn’t sure if she’d appreciate it. Instead, he placed one hand on her shoulder and said, “He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

Kendra’s face reddened and she looked like she might suddenly start to cry. She turned toward the lawn and hugged herself, but didn’t otherwise respond.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he immediately apologized, distressed at the thought that he might’ve caused her distress.

She waved a hand at him. “Not your fault,” she said. “It doesn’t take much these days. You’re right, I know you’re right, but I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay to be sad,” he replied. “It’s okay to be angry, hurt, and upset, too.”

Kendra looked back at him with watery eyes. “Are you a therapist?” she teased with a weak smile.

He laughed a little. “I have four sisters, remember?”

“Right,” she giggled. “I feel so crazy right now. One minute I’m laughing, the next I’m crying, and now I’m laughing again.”

“Sounds pretty normal to me,” he said. “I don’t think I’d be much better off if our situations were reversed.”

She looked down at her feet with a soft smile. “Thanks.”

Vanessa walked up at that moment and wrapped an arm around Kendra’s shoulders, then glowered at Bracken. “Is he bothering you?” she asked Kendra while clearly staring at him.

“No,” Kendra said. “I’m just an emotional wreck.”

A short ‘hmm’ was uttered by Vanessa, who continued to glare at Bracken.

Her crystal clear and plain-as-day mistrust and what felt like hatred was really quite uncomfortable to endure. Before he had the chance to ask her what her severe dislike of him was founded on, seeing as they’d just barely met, Warren stopped by and pulled Vanessa away from Kendra.

“There you are,” he said. “I was looking for you. Elise was just telling some story about a ridiculous customer of yours from the other day. Why didn’t you tell me about him? The dude who insisted on misspelling a word in his tattoo design, then got mad when it turned out misspelled on his skin?”

She rolled her eyes. “That was Elise’s customer,” she corrected.

“My bad. Maybe you should come over and make sure I understand the other stories she’s telling.”

A sigh escaped her. “I know what you’re doing,” she said to Warren. She squeezed Kendra again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m alright,” Kendra replied. “Bracken is being kind.”

“If you’re sure,” Vanessa answered. “You know where to find me.” She narrowed her eyes at Bracken once more, who was starting to feel more than a little annoyed by her attitude.

“I’m watching you,” she told him.

Bracken sent her what he hoped was his best unimpressed expression.

Vanessa shook her head at him, then turned toward Warren. “Go ahead, take my overbearing ass away from here.”

Warren shot an apologetic look at Bracken before he escorted Vanessa back toward Elise, Mara, Dale and Tanu.

“She’s been a little protective of me this week,” Kendra explained. “Sorry about that.”

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s okay. She doesn’t have to like me. I would’ve appreciated a chance for her to get to know me before deciding that she hates me, but that’s her problem, not mine. I can’t please everyone.”

Kendra blinked. “She doesn’t hate you.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

“If she hated you, she would’ve sent you back to your car and told you to never come back.”

Bracken shrugged his shoulders again. “It’s alright. I can deal with being disliked. I just wish I knew what I’d done to warrant it.”

“You didn’t do anything. She’s just being protective,” Kendra said. “I promise.”

He decided that he didn’t want to carry that particular subject any further. “Understood.”

An awkward silence fell between them for a few moments, and then Seth reappeared on the deck from the kitchen with a small plate stacked high with an assortment of mini desserts. He made his way over to them, apparently unaware of what had just happened with Vanessa, and announced, “She brought cheesecakes and brownies.”

“Did you take them all?” Kendra asked as she gestured toward his plate.

“There’s some left,” he replied. “I couldn’t stack anymore on top without them falling over.”

“Sugar addict,” Kendra teased.

Seth faked being wounded in his chest. “Kendra. My sister. You’ve hurt me.”

“Do you deny it?”

“No.”

“Well then, there you go.”

“I can’t help it,” Seth said as he chewed on one of the brownies. “Sugar is delicious.”

Bracken and Kendra both nodded their heads, then Kendra stole one of the tiny cheesecakes from Seth’s plate and popped it into her mouth.

“Hey!” Seth protested. “Get your own!”

“I can’t help it,” she replied. “Sugar is delicious.”

Bracken laughed as Seth held his plate over his head while Kendra also laughed and tried to reach it.

——

Read part 8 here!

#fablehaven #brackendra #aerinm writes #anonymous #asks #this is rapidly spinning out of control my dudes #whyyyyyyy do i do this to myself

18 notes · View notes

mldrgrl · 4 years

Note

Lately I've been all about reconciliation. For some reason, I want all the Mulder-and-Bill-Scully-finding-some-peace fic I can get. I'd love to see your take on this, maybe in the IWTB era? Or even revival era.

One Sorry Sonofabitch

By: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: See above - but be advised Mulder and Scully aren’t in this story a whole lot. Please send all complaints to @perplexistan and I’ll be filing a lawsuit shortly for pain and suffering for having to turn Bill Scully into a sympathetic character. (Set post-IWtB)

He holds his tongue to spare his mother what he really thinks when she tells him that Dana and Mr. Mulder will be joining them for Thanksgiving this year. He can’t believe the audacity that man has to show up at a family event. And his sister isn’t much better for what she’s put their mother through over the years. He can’t even remember the last time he saw her. He thinks it might be ten years ago, just before his second son, Michael, was born. Tara squeezes his knee under the table and he musters up a smile and a brief nod.

Now that he’s stationed in North Carolina, it’s a lot easier for him to travel with his family instead of having his mother fly out for the holidays. It’s their first Thanksgiving on the east coast and he’s annoyed at having the happy occasion intruded upon by his selfish sister and her ne’er do well friend. He really can’t believe she still keeps that jackass around.

He loves his sister. He truly does. He just can’t understand the foolish choices she’s made. Starting with joining the FBI, but giving away her child and going on the run with her fugitive partner instead of putting her patriotic duty to uphold the law as her priority is just beyond him. He would never. He had hoped that whatever spell Mr. Mulder had put on her would’ve worn off by now, but alas. And now they’re coming to Thanksgiving.

Tara gives him a look when they hear the car pull up. One that implores him to please behave. His wife has no business being so compassionate, but that’s just the kind of person she is. He hasn’t forgotten how his sister nearly ruined the Christmas that Matthew was born with that strange little girl and her impossible claim to her. It should have been a time of great joy and instead Dana had made it sorrowful and awkward.

“Fox and Dana just drove up,” his mother says, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on a dish rag.

His sons jump up from the game they’re playing in the family room, excited to meet their mythical aunt they’ve heard tales about.

“Don’t run in the house,” he barks at the kids.

“Yes Sir,” they say, stopping short and taking slower steps to reach the door.

Tara is the one that greets them and his mother is just behind her. Bill is the last one to the door and waits for the hugs and excited chatter to die down before he gives his sister a stiff embrace and Mr. Mulder a requisite handshake.

“Mr. Mulder,” Bill says.

“Just Mulder,” Mr. Mulder says.

“Matthew had a growth spurt this year,” Tara prattles, laying a hand on their son’s shoulder. He’s taller than her by an inch, thin and reedy. “As you can see. Can you believe he’ll be thirteen next month!? And we’ve got Michael turning ten in February.”

Matthew’s cheeks darken. He embarrasses easily and his fair skin gets blotchy at the drop of a hat. Both his boys are soft, like their mother. He’d like to toughen them up, but Tara is fiercely protective of them. A regular mother lion. He doesn’t get it. When he was a kid, he idolized his father. Those few weeks or months a year when his dad came home were the best. He was interested in everything his father did and how he did it. His sons don’t express any interest in him and he barely hears more than a ‘yes, sir’ or a ‘no, sir’ out of them on a good day.

“Maureen is napping,” Tara says. “You’ll meet her later.”

His daughter, Maureen, well she’s a different story. She’s only a toddler, but she reminds him of his sister Melissa. She’s headstrong and unafraid, particularly when it comes to her father. She sasses. She rolls her eyes already. She ignores his orders and does what she wants when she wants. She’s also cute as a button and has her brothers wrapped around their little fingers. Tara calls her their little threenager.

“We’ve still got time before dinner,” his mother says. “Why don’t we head to the family room.”

“We brought pies,” Dana says.

“I’ll get them,” Mr. Mulder says. He has his hands on Dana’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze when she looks back up at him. They seem to hold some silent conversation. To Bill, it looks like his sister is begging her friend to please don’t leave him alone in this house. He doesn’t know why she’s here.

They gather in the family room and make small talk. Tara finds the scrapbooks she puts together for his mother every year and shows off all the photos of the kids from their school activities and family vacations. Dana nods and smiles through most of it. Mr. Mulder is more talkative and asks all the questions.

A half hour slips by and finally he hears a cry from upstairs indicating that his daughter is up from her nap. Tara is on her feet in an instant.

“That’ll be the little princess,” Tara says. “I’ll go grab her and get her ready to come down.”

“I’ll help you,” Bill says. Tara looks at him strangely as he follows.

Maureen is jumping up and down in the playpen in their room when they walk in. She smiles brightly and holds her arms up to Tara.

“How’s my girl,” Tara coos. “Let’s get you into the dress Grandma bought you for dinner and then you can meet your Auntie Dana and Uncle Fox.”

“Don’t call him that,” Bill says.

“Oh, Bill.” Tara sighs and stands Maureen on the bed to start undressing her. “You’re going to have to accept him sometime.”

“I most certainly don’t.”

“You know, one of the things I loved the most about you when we were dating was that you always said that family was very important to you.”

“It still is. You know that.”

“I’m just saying that sometimes your actions don’t say a lot about what I know is in your heart. Will you grab me one of the Pull-Ups from her bag?”

“I’ve been cordial. Hell, I shook his hand.”

“Hell is a bad word,” Maureen says. She scrunches her face and shakes her head as Tara tries to pull her red curls into a ponytail. “No hair up, Mama.”

“Listen to your mother, Maureen.”

“No.”

“Hair up or it’ll get washed tonight in the bath,” Tara bargains.

“Okay, hair up.”

“She’s the one that abandoned everything, you know. Not giving a damn about how it would affect our mother. Tara, she gave her own child away for that man.”

“Damn damn damn!” Maureen shouts, jumping up and down on the bed.

Tara gives Bill a weary look. “William Scully Junior, you know better than to use that kind of language.”

Maureen laughs and bounces. “Daddy in trouble. Daddy in trouble.”

“Yes, Daddy was being very naughty. And so are you. Get down.” Tara holds her hands out and helps Maureen off the bed. “Billy, Dana had her reasons, I’m sure. Have you ever even asked her what happened back then?”

“No. Why do you always take the other side of the argument?”

“I don’t know, Billy, why do you like to argue so much?” She smiles and pats him on the chest as she leads Maureen past him out the door. “I’m just putting myself in her shoes and I know that if I were to have to do what she did, there would have to be a very good reason. You saw how attached to she was to that little Emily and how devastated she was. Think about that.”

“Hmph.”

Downstairs, his mother oohs and aahs over Maureen’s green velvet dress and Maureen twirls appropriately, delighted to be the center of attention. His sister smiles warmly and kneels down to introduce herself to her niece and tell her how big she is and how pretty.

“Thank you, I know,” Maureen says.

The women laugh.

“Where are the boys?” Bill asks. “And Mr. Mulder?”

“Outside playing basketball,” his mother answers.

Basketball. They should be playing a real sport like football. The last time he’d tried to teach them how to punt and tackle it had ended in tears. Matthew complained that the roughness might hurt his chances of moving up in his piano lessons and Michael said he preferred to work on his model cars.

Bill lingers in the mudroom, watching surreptitiously and listening to boys play with Mr. Mulder through the open window. There are a lot of high fives and hair tousling. They don’t even seem to be competing, just taking turns with the ball, which seems a little ridiculous.

“Good job, Matt,” Mr. Mulder says, even when Matthew misses a shot that should have been easy. “Loosen that wrist and hold that follow-through.” He takes the boys’ hand and guides it with his own. “That’s it. Let’s try it again.”

Matthew shoots again and they all cheer when the ball makes it in the basket.

“Nice!” Mr. Mulder yells. “Nothing but net.”

Both boys whoop and laugh and jump up and down like monkeys and grab onto Mr. Mulder. He laughs with them and they have another round of high fives and hair tousling.

“How do you know so much about basketball, Uncle Mulder?” Michael asks. Bill cringes.

“I played in high school and I used to be part of a team at my gym.”

“Did you like being part of a team?” Matthew asks.

“Yeah, it was great.”

“I think I want to join the debate team at school next year.” This is news to Bill and he’s surprised. Matthew is notoriously soft-spoken.

“Your Aunt Dana used to be on a debate team when she was in school. You should ask her for some tips.”

“Dad said that you guys used to be FBI agents,” Michael says. “He said it’s like being a glory fried policeman”

“Glorified,” Matthew corrects. “Not glory fried.”

“Glorified, whatever that means. He told Mom before that Aunt Dana should’ve kept being a doctor so she’d be more normal.”

Bill grits his teeth. He doesn’t recall ever saying something like that in front of the boys, but he’s sure he’s said it. He wonders what else they’ve overheard through the years.

“Well, that’s probably true,” Mr. Mulder says. “She’s a great doctor. But, you know what? Your Aunt Dana was the best agent the FBI ever had.”

“How come she quit?” Matthew asks.

“Have you ever done something that made you really happy for awhile and then it just stopped making you happy?”

“I used to like playing MarioKart,” Michael says. “But, now I think it’s boring.”

“It’s kind of like that.”

“My favorite is SimCity. Have you ever played that?”

“No, I can’t say I have.”

“Do you like Guitar Hero?” Matthew asks.

“Yeah, do you like Guitar Hero?” Michael echoes. “We brought our Playstation and we can play.”

“I’m not much of a musician,” Mr. Mulder says. “But I’ll give it a shot.”

“Cool!” Both boys yell.

Bill chooses that moment to emerge from the mudroom and steps out onto the porch. Both boys go instantly quiet and Michael starts dribbling the basketball he’s holding.

“You boys should run and get your jackets on,” Bill says. “It’s getting cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Michael replies.

“Yes, Sir,” Matthew answers and takes Michael’s arm. “Thanks for the lessons, Uncle Mulder.”

“You can keep playing,” Bill says. “I just think you need to get your jackets on.”

“That’s alright, we’ll go help Mom and Grandma in the kitchen. Come on, Mikey.”

Michael reluctantly hands the basketball over to Mr. Mulder. “Thanks, Uncle Mulder,” he says.

Mr. Mulder nods and then it’s just him and Bill outside. Mr. Mulder turns and dribbles the ball a few times before he sinks a basket. He picks it up again and holds it one-handed in Bill’s direction.

“You play?” Mr. Mulder asks.

“I’m more of a football guy,” Bill answers.

“USNA is on a great streak in the Army v Navy games. Think they can keep it up?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a Navy man if I thought otherwise.”

“Were you on the team?”

“No. We won all four years I was there though. Tied one year, actually.”

“I think Scully mentioned that you dad had played one year.”

Bill can’t believe Mr. Mulder is still calling his sister, Scully. It makes no goddamn sense. “1957,” he answers. “14-0, Navy.”

Mr. Mulder nods. The conversation stalls. Mr. Mulder rubs the back of his head for a few moments and then he looks at the door and straightens. Bill turns and sees his sister in the window. She comes outside, pulling her sweater tighter across her waist and crossing her arms as she steps off the porch.

“Mom says there’s about an hour left until the turkey is ready,” she says. “Everything alright?”

“Talking sports,” Mr. Mulder says. Dana stands close to him. He puts a hand on her back.

“It’s good to see you, Dana.”

“You too, Bill.”

The three of them stand in awkward silence. A wind picks up and blows dead leaves across their feet. Bill shoves his hands in his pockets. Dana turns to Mr. Mulder and lays a hand very lightly on his chest.

“Can you give us a minute?” Dana asks.

“Of course,” Mr. Mulder answers. He kisses the corner of Dana’s mouth and Bill’s cheek twitches irritably. He spins the basketball on one finger as he walks away and then tucks it snugly into the corner of the porch before he goes inside.

“I can tell you don’t want us here,” Dana says. Straight to the point. His sister has never been subtle.

“I think it’s you that doesn’t want to be here. You know, every holiday Mom would always bring up the fact that it would be so nice to have all her children at the table. I have to say I agree with her.”

Dana stares at him with a cool gaze. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

“No, I’m just telling you how it’s been.”

“All her children?”

“Alright, we don’t need to fight.”

“I’m not fighting. I’m just wondering if she includes Charlie in that, when she yearns for all her children.”

Bill shifts uncomfortably. “That’s between them. Charles is…”

“Charlie is married. His husband’s name is-”

“Patrick. I know. I do speak with him on occasion.”

Dana gives a brief nod. “Were they invited to Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry that we didn’t turn out how you wanted.”

“What does that mean?”

“You always wanted to follow in our parents footsteps. Be just like Dad. Have the doting wife, the Navy career, a house full of kids. Everything in ship-shape order. They made it look ideal when we were kids, but it was never ideal.”

“What kind of nonsense has that man been filling your head with?”

Dana snorts. “The irony is, Mulder is a lot like you, Bill. He values the sanctity of family even more than you.”

“Oh yeah, so much so he forced you to give up your only child.”

“Mulder wasn’t even there when I had to give William up.”

“Exactly. Where was he? Not with his family. You can be sure I would-”

“You would, what? Step away from the Navy? Reject a deployment order? What would you do, Bill?”

“It’s my job,” he says, curtly. “It’s what I do to make sure not just my family, but every family in our country is protected. Tara understood that when she married me. The kids understand.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Do you know what losing her grandchild did to Mom? Dad’s namesake, Dana. My namesake. How could you?”

“You sanctimonious sonofabitch,” she hisses. “My son’s name is William Fox Mulder. Named after Mulder’s father. Not you, and not Dad. And you have no idea how difficult it was for me to make that choice. None at all.”

“Then why did you do it? If it was so goddamn hard, why isn’t he here with us now playing with his cousins instead of with strangers?”

Dana looks away and licks the corner of her mouth. She used to do that when she was a kid before letting loose with a temper tantrum. He remembers her red-faced and stomping her feet, licking her lip before she exploded.

“Did you know that my life was in danger for all of my pregnancy?” she asks. “Did you know William was kidnapped twice before he was eight months old? Did you know that I had friends that were almost killed trying to protect him? Did you know that I killed people in order to protect him? Did you know that I made the biggest mistake in my life when I asked Mulder to leave us because I thought he was the one endangering our son? Did you know that my heart felt like it was ripped out of my chest when I thought I had lost both of them forever? Do you know that it took years for me to trust in the fact that Mulder forgave me for what I did?”

Bill feels uncomfortable and clammy. He’s never seen his sister like this, as a child or as an adult. She’s like fire. Hot and terrifying.

“No,” he says. “How could I? Why didn’t you come to me?”

Dana raises her brow at him like he’s said something completely incredulous. “We’re family, Bill, not friends.”

“Do you even have any friend, Dana? Aside from Mr. Mulder?”

“I don’t need or want anyone else in my life except for Mulder.”

“Including your family?”

“Mulder is my family. A fact I don’t ever think you’ll accept.”

“That man has poisoned you against your family.”

“That man is the reason I’m here today. You’re right. It is me that doesn’t want to be here.” She turns and walks away.

“Dana.”

She doesn’t turn back though, just walks up the porch and into the house and Bill is left alone. He doesn’t understand how he could have grown up in the same house as each of his siblings, but how they all turned out so different. He seems to be the only one that appreciates the values his parents instilled in them and not blatantly reject the status quo.

When Bill comes back into the house, he sees Dana and Mr. Mulder in the dining room, having a very low and animated conversation. Her hands are in his and his head is bent towards her. She’s shaking her head and pulling one of her arms free to gesticulate with, but he catches it and clasps their hands gently to his chest.

Bill turns away and heads back to the family room. The boys are on the floor with Maureen, helping her arrange her dolls to her satisfaction. Tara and his mother are on the couch in conversation. He sits down, feeling glum and perturbed. Dana comes into the room, Mr. Mulder behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m not feeling very well,” she says. “Mulder is going to take me home.”

Tara glances at Bill and he shifts his gaze away from her.

“What is it?” his mother asks. “Do you need to lie down? You can use the spare room.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to disrupt dinner. I think I have a migraine coming on and I have medication at home.”

“But, Dana, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together. Can’t you just…”

“Let Dana do what she wants to do, Mom,” Bill says. “If she wants to go home, let her go home.”

His mother wrings her hands together. He can’t stand the disappointment in her eyes and he doesn’t know how Dana can either. The hugs goodbye are awkward. The kids are confused.

“Uncle Mulder was supposed to play Guitar Hero with us,” Michael says, after they leave.

“Some other time,” Tara tells him. “Go wash up for dinner.”

Dinner is somber. His mother looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Tara tries to compensate by engaging the children in conversation, but the boys unhappily push food around on their plates and Maureen whines to be let loose. Before they’re even done, his mother starts gathering up the dishes and bringing them into the kitchen.

“What happened?” Tara mouths at him from across the table.

Bill shrugs. “Mom, stop. Tara and I will take care of the dishes. Boys, take your sister and...show your grandmother that guitar game.”

The boys looked relieved. Matthew takes Maureen’s hand and they head to the family room. After the leave, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall sounds immense in the silence.

“Bill…”

Bill raises his hands in surrender. “Dana and I had a talk,” he admits. “It didn’t go well.”

“Is that why she left?”

“She left because she didn’t want to show up at all.”

“This really meant a lot to Mom.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe the only thing you can do is just accept the fact that this is all there is.” Tara gets up, collecting dishes before she makes her way to the kitchen. It takes Bill some time to follow, but he gathers up plates and silverware and goes in after her. She’s got Tupperware spread out on the counter and is trying to match lids.

“I don’t want to accept it, Tara. I can’t. She’s my sister.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He scratches the back of his head and thinks, watching Tara empty dishes into plastic bowls. “Pack me up enough of those leftovers for two. I’m...going to go out there.”

“You should take the boys with you.”

“Why?”

“It’s unlikely they’d turn the kids away.”

That hurts because it’s probably true. He finishes clearing the dishes for Tara and she neatly packs up leftovers and stacks them on the counter. He grabs a sweatshirt and then goes into the family room. The boys aren’t playing the video game, they look like they’re playing Go Fish with their grandmother and sister.

“Boys, we’re going to take a drive.”

They look at each other and then look at their father. “Are we in trouble?” Michael asks.

“No, son. We’re just going to take a drive.”

He can tell they’re reluctant to get up, but they do. Tara brings them their jackets and loads their arms with the Tupperware and walks them to the car.

“Where are we going?” Matthew asks, buckling his seatbelt.

“We’re going to go see your Aunt Dana and...Uncle Mulder.”

“Really?” Michael asks.

It’s an hour-long drive. Bill can’t think of a time he’s been alone in a car with his sons for that long. They don’t talk and the radio isn’t offering anything decent.

“You know, Matthew, your Aunt Dana was there when you were born?”

“She was?”

“She and your grandma had come out for Christmas that year. They visited you in the hospital and you were only a few hours old. And...your...Uncle Mulder was there too.” Bill shifts a little in his seat and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. He was a little disgruntled at the time that Mr. Mulder had shown up with Dana at the hospital, but even more so when Tara insisted he have a chance to hold the baby. He knows photos were taken that day, but he’s never seen them.

“Did Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder visit me too, Dad?” Michael asks.

“No, they were...they weren’t in town at that time.”

“Oh.”

“Have I ever told you the story of when your Aunt Dana won a shooting contest when she was eight?”

“Um, I don’t think we know any stories about Aunt Dana,” Matthew answers. “Except a couple Grandma has told us.”

“I see.”

“I want to hear it,” Michael says. “I want to know the story.”

“Me too,” Matthew adds.

“She learned to shoot pretty young. My Dad had taught us. She was the best out of all of us, even Dad. She just never missed. Some kids in the neighborhood caught wind of it and said there was no way a little girl could beat them. They were older than us, maybe your age, Matthew. Dana said she could beat the pants off of them, just come out to the woods and name the target. She whipped those boys good. Six older boys against one little girl.”

“Did she win a prize?” Michael asks.

Bill thinks back on that day. He’d felt a mixture of pride and anger. He wanted Dana to win, but he also looked up to those boys. Their pride had been injured and therefore he’d tried to convince Dana to throw the competition at one point, pulling her aside and telling her she was hurting their feelings and should let them win. She looked him straight in the eye and told him no way in hell would she lose to a stupid boy just ‘cause. He’d been afraid the boys would retaliate in some way, maybe hurt Dana or even start a fight with him, but they hadn’t.

“Respect,” Bill says. “She won a lot of respect.”

“Sounds like something Maureen would do,” Matthew says. He and Michael chuckle together.

“Maureen is more like your Aunt Melissa. Dana was a real tomboy. She had to do everything me and your Uncle Charles did.”

“How come…?” Matthew starts, and then clams up.

“How come what?”

“I know Aunt Melissa died a long time ago. But, how come we’ve never met Aunt Dana before now? Or Uncle Charles?”

“Is it because Uncle Charles married another boy?” Michael asks.

“Who told you that?” Bill asks.

“Mom said that’s why Grandma doesn’t like to talk about him and we should try to understand that Grandma comes from another time where that wasn’t ok, but that doesn’t mean it’s not ok.”

“She said that?”

“Mmhm. She said that if anyone at church or other kids say it’s not ok, we just don’t listen to them because God doesn’t make mistakes and love is love and God wants us to love each other.”

Bill is quiet. He can’t believe his devout and traditional wife has said something so progressive and even went so far as to instruct his children to go against the church. Good for her, he thinks. Maybe if his mother had thought for herself once in awhile they wouldn’t have such a fractured family. He can’t believe that thought just crosses his mind.

“You boys listen to your mother,” Bill says. “She’s a good woman and I’m glad you’re both more like her than like me.”

“You’re good too, Dad,” Matthew says.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, you do a really hard job and it’s important and you’re in charge of it.”

“And Mom says that’s why we shouldn’t bother you with trivial things,” Michael says. “So you can relax when you’re home.”

Bill is quiet for a few moments and he glances at both boys in the rear view mirror. “I want you boys to know that you’re never a bother to me. Not ever, alright? You can come to me with anything. You understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” they both say.

“And to answer your question, you haven’t met your Aunt Dana or Uncle Charles before because I think...I think it’s hard for them to feel welcome. That’s why I’m taking you out to Dana and Mulder’s house right now so I can make sure they know they’re welcome.”

“Will we get to meet Uncle Charles one day, too?” Michael asks.

“I promise that when we get home I’ll call him and ask him if he wants to come for a visit.”

��Cool,” Matthew says. “Three new uncles and an aunt.”

The roads start to become more rural and desolate. It’s only twilight, but it feels even darker without any streetlamps or other passing cars. Bill turns off onto a dirt road and slowly bumps along the unpaved path.

“I think this is it,” Bill says, pulling up to a gate.

“Do they live on a farm?” Michael asks. “It looks like a farm.”

“I don’t think so.”

Bill is about to call Dana’s phone when he sees Mr. Mulder step out onto the porch, holding what looks like a long-barreled shotgun. He turns on the cab light of the car and then lowers the window and leans out, raising a hand in greeting. Mr. Mulder looks like he’s squinting and then he goes back inside and turns on the porch light. When he comes back out, he’s no longer holding the gun and he jogs down from the porch and down the path behind the gate. Bill sees his sister come out onto the porch a few moments later.

“Bill?” Mr. Mulder asks once he’s close enough to be heard. “What’re you doing out here? Everything alright?”

“The boys and I brought leftovers,” Bill says.

“Uh. Okay. Let me just unlock the gate, just a second.” Mr. Mulder begins to unlock some chains around the gate. “Scully’s been nagging me to put this on a remote, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet. Drive on up, I’ll be right behind you.”

Bill drives slowly down the lane and Mr. Mulder stays in the shadow of his taillight. He parks behind the car in front of the porch and the boys are quick to unlock their belts and scramble out of the car.

“Is this a farm?” Michael asks, running up to Mr. Mulder and taking his hand. “Do you have cows?”

“Sorry, buddy, no cows,” Mr. Mulder answers. “I think there might have been horses here at one time. There are some stalls out in the field behind the house.”

Bill gathers the Tupperware from the floorboards of the passenger seat and Matthew is right behind him to help him get everything out. Dana stands on the porch in a defensive pose, guarding her territory.

“Come in,” Mr. Mulder says. He guides Michael up the stairs ahead of him. Dana gives Mr. Mulder a look, but then smiles at Michael. Tara was a genius to tell him to take the boys.

The interior surprises Bill. It’s cozy, almost cabin-like. There are afghans on the couch and a well-used recliner. They’ve got a wood burning stove and a fire going. His sister is wearing slippers.

Mr. Mulder leads them all to the kitchen and takes the Tupperware from Matthew and from Bill. “Be sure to thank Maggie for us,” he says.

“I will.” There’s a few beats of silence and Bill eyes his sister. “Dana, would you mind if we talked for a few minutes?”

She hesitates and glances at the boys.

“You guys can go on the porch,” Mr. Mulder offers. “Maybe...these guys might like some ice cream?”

“Can we?” Michael asks, turning to Bill.

Bill nods. Never in his life did he expect to feel gratitude towards Mr. Mulder for anything, but he does in this moment. The boys cheer. Dana doesn’t look happy, but she takes her brother out to the porch.

“I’m not here to fight,” Bill says. “I just want you to know that up front.”

“Why are you here?” she asks.

“Because I don’t like the way we left things. I want to start by apologizing for...not giving you the benefit of the doubt. Or supporting you when you needed it.”

Dana looks surprised and a little chagrined. Her eyes water a bit. She wraps her arms across her middle and looks at her feet. “Thank you,” she says. “That means a lot.”

“I was telling the boys on the way over about that time you won the shooting contest when you were a kid.”

She snorts softly. “You were so mad at me.”

“No, I was proud of you. I didn’t tell you that back then, but I probably should have. Maybe it’s because of things like that that you felt you couldn’t talk to me when you were going through a hard time.”

“Maybe.”

“What I’m not going to apologize for, though, is my life or my family.” He pauses while she looks up and opens her mouth, but then she closes it again and nods a little. “I don’t think I’m wrong for wanting to live in the example our parents set for us. They were happily married for almost forty years and, God willing, I’d like to make it to my fiftieth anniversary and still be just as happy.”

“You probably will.”

“I think you might too.”

Dana raises her brow. Bill rubs the back of his neck and exhales, deeply.

“The kids were telling me earlier that love is love,” he says. “And, now that I’ve seen the two of you together, I think that he kind of seems like a decent guy.”

“I wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.”

Dana looks at her feet again and rocks back and forth on her heels for a moment. “I would also like to apologize for keeping you in the dark about so many things for so long. I’ve been so accustomed to needing to keep things private, I forget that I can rely on other people. Mulder has to remind me of it at times when I start to shut him out.”

“You were like that as a kid. Tough as nails, wouldn’t show a weakness to save your life.”

“And a quick temper.”

“Yeah, that too.” Bill chuckles. Dana smiles slightly.

“I’m sorry I left like that. I hope Mom wasn’t too upset.”

“I think it might be salvaged if you thought about maybe coming by tomorrow? The boys really seemed to take to...their Uncle Mulder.”

“He’s really great with kids,” Dana whispers and two tears fall down her cheeks. She dips her head once more and puts a hand over her eyes.

Bill steps closer and pulls her in against his chest. She puts her arms around him and he rubs her shoulder a little. “I can’t imagine, Dana. What you must feel.”

“Some days are harder than others.”

“Does he help you through it?”

“Always.”

“Okay.”

After a few moments of silence, Dana sighs and then pulls away and wipes her eyes. Bill stops her before they go back inside.

“One more thing,” he says. “It’s important to me that you know that I don’t agree with Mom on everything. Just because I believe that her issues with Charles are her business, doesn’t mean I think she’s right.”

“You don’t?”

“Hell no. That’s her son. I would never. The thing is, Charles has told me he chooses to limit his contact with both of us so that it won’t cause problems between us and Mom, if she knows that we speak with him.”

“I know.”

“And, thinking about what you said and just...thinking about it in general, tonight, I’ve decided that if Mom can’t handle the fact that I have a relationship with my brother, that’s also her problem. I’m going to invite Charles and Patrick out to North Carolina for Christmas. I want to extend the same invitation to you and Mr. Mulder as well.”

“It’s just Mulder.”

“You guys are so weird about your names.”

“That’s how we like it.”

Bill puts his hands up in surrender. Dana opens the door and he follows. The boys are laughing at something. Mulder gets up from the table when he sees them and Dana walks into his arms. He rubs her back and nods at Bill.

“Can I get you a bowl of ice cream?” Mulder asks.

“Sure.”

“Dad, did you know that Aunt Dana and Uncle Mulder once arrested a man that was half-worm and lived in a sewer?!” Michael exclaims.

“Tried to arrest,” Mulder amends. “We only caught half of him. The tail end, unfortunately.”

“Gross!” the boys cry.

“Really, Mulder?” Bill asks.

Mulder shrugs. Bill sighs.

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #bill scully #I never imagined I would have to get into this dudes head #perplexistan

163 notes · View notes

bucksbisexual · 3 years

Text

well, well, well. it’s the end of 2020.

kinda weird, isn’t it? the year has flown by and it’s already the end of the last month. it’s been..... strange to say the least, but this year i’ve found a place, and most specifically, people who have made this year a little bit better and brighter with either their presence or their content, and for that, i want to send some love to all of you who have made an impact on me this year with our interactions or your content on my dashboard 💖💖

i feel like i should start with everyone who has added me in their follow forevers (i still can’t believe i was even part of a single one??? i- 🥺) so let me do just that hehe

@yihwas soph!! we haven’t interacted much but every time we did u have been nothing but the sweetest and kindest person ever and that made such a great impact on me, thank u for being so amazing 🥰💛

@planthusbands cass!!! even though our age gap is 10 whole years you have been nothing but welcoming and lovely to me and u truly feel like an older sister to me 🥺💚 the cover u did for our secret santa hugs me tightly whenever i feel down 💖

@petekaos rahul!!!! (or should i say rhaul kjsjfhsfj my fingers h*te u for no reason i swear) u are such a lovely person and i’m so glad to be able to have gotten to know u better this year. you’re so amazing and u already know from before we even interacted that i Love ur fics so please never let anything stop u from writing!! 💙

@wjmild kylie!!! we have been talking more lately because of both of us (well, now only me) watching guardian and it’s so much fun!! i love hearing ur thoughts and opinions on things even if they differ from mine because i find u really interesting!!! also u’ve probably heard this from everyone from the gc but i love ur voice jhfkjsf love u lotsss 🧡

@toptaps zey!! we haven’t interacted much and have barely spoken on dms but u’re so lovely and kind 💛 ur love for things makes me want to love them as well (see: guardian) and i would love to get to know u better this year that’s just around the corner 🥰

okay and now.. to everyone else!!

@brightwin jelly!!! i miss u tons :-( but thank u for being so lovely whenever we interacted, you’re so nice to everyone and so so so talented when it comes to giffing, you’re pretty much the person who made me want to start giffing so thank u for creating such masterpieces 💛

@gunatps vee!!! are u feeling better love? i hope you’re recovering well <3 i loved getting to know u this year and loved all the weird conversations in the gc when it was alexa, u and me or sometimes just u and me, i miss bicis but hopefully bicis can come back as soon as u recover. ur korn apologist agenda was strong but u ended up being right... truly The Monarch skjfhsj love u lots 🧡 (i will join ur next chanonpom breakdown on vc okay? just tell me when and i’ll be there <3)

@kimmonv violet!!! we haven’t talked much but u seem like such an interesting and funny person, i would love to talk more with u this next year 🥰 i loved being ur secret santa (even if i sucked at it) and i felt rlly happy when u said u liked it!! i hope 2021 treats u well 💚

@lee-thanat ke!!! i loved getting to know u a little this year and i definitely loved trying to read ur nonsensical messages that were supposed to mean something KHSFJSHF i also loved playing with u on among us that one time even if i killed u once (sorry about that btw... ily), i hope everything’s going well and that we can talk more next year 💜

@soulmatelines jo!!! my twin sjkfjksfh i loooved getting to know u this year!! you’re so funny and so smart even if ur artistic skills are... Not The Best skfjhjfhks (neither are mine so it’s okay, no need to feel bad) i loved being on vc with u and just talking with u on discord whenever u were online, i hope we can continue doing that next year!!! love u lots 💛

@pvrrish eleni!! we’ve talked so little this year that i can barely remember if there was any conversation at all :-(( but i would love to get to know u better this next year!! u seem like such an interesting person and u and angel are friends so i’m sure u’re amazing!! hope 2021 treats u well 💚

@class2clown angel!!! it’s been such a pleasure to get to know u this year and i can’t believe that it’s already been months since we first spoke :’)) all of ur creations are soooo good and i love all of them!!! i hope nothing ever stops u from creating more because they’re all so amazing!!! 🧡

@floralbfs augs!!!! god it’s been a while since we started talking but u’ve always been so lovely and have always been there to share ur ideas for the thousand unwritten/posted pangwave and khaithird fics on our dms... i’m so glad that u rbed one of my tgg posts asking for the drama’s name because otherwise i wouldn’t have gotten to know someone as amazing as u 🥰 i hope 2021 is easier for u, sending u lots of love 💛

@vihokratanas mel!!! we haven’t spoken much but i’ve noticed that we share our love for a few dramas so i’d love to get to know u better this next year!!! u and violet’s almost daily spam on the bops channel is dearly missed but i know u guys are busy so hopefully this 2021 will be a bit more relaxed 🧡

@doctorbahnjit alexa my love!!!!! what can i even tell u.... you’ve been nothing but kind since day 1 that we started talking on the gc and to get to know u this 2020 was such a delight. thank u for being who u are and thank u for watching dramas with me on vc even if u can’t (or i can’t) hear shit, i appreciate it sososososo much and i just love spending hours upon hours (well, until ur grandma ass has to go to sleep) chatting and watching debatably good dramas with u and dawn <3 i hope 2021 treats u better and that u still stay being as awesome as u are 🥰💖

@pangwave dawnnie my baby!!!!! hi bb how’s everything going?? i hope u’re okay, i miss u a lot :-(( getting to know u this year has been one of the best things that have come out of this hellhole of a year. thank u for making most of my nights so entertaining with both ur thoughts and ur dumb fights with alexa, they’ve been the highlight of my days from these past 2 months :’) the endless vc calls with u and alexa (and ur shitty internet cutting every single one of ur sentences) have made my year so much better and i can’t thank u enough for that. u and ur crabsticks and ur opinions and ur incredibly good gifsets are truly some of the best things that have come out of this year. thank u sosososo much for being how u are, i love u so much dawnnie 🥰💖

here’s some other people who have been on my dash for a while and that i appreciate their content as well: @scoupslipgloss (i mostly rb u with my sideblog but i love ur acc!!!) @vocalunits @chaoticbiwuxian @drwcn @bimingjue (i wouldn’t be a gifmaker if it wasn’t for u sending me the ps download link so i owe u my Life) @aanau (i rb a lot of what u post and i’m sorry if i have ever spammed u skjfhjsf i just love ur blog even if we don’t really share any fandoms aaaa) @emisfritish @leoyunxi @1akorn @gunsatthaphan @asianmelodrama @fushiguroo @khaotungthanawat @mymycorrhizae @jaehwany and @coldties amongst the many blogs that i’ve seen all year on my dash!!!! everyone’s content and posts have gotten me through 2020 so thank u all so much for staying on tumblr 💗

i feel like i’ve forgotten people but please know that if u are not in this but we’ve interacted in any way then you’ve most definitely made some kind of impact to me!! these are just the people i talk with the most 💖

thank u all for being soooo amazing and i hope 2021 is good to everyone here and to everyone who reads this. happy holidays and happy new year to everyone 🥰💖✨

#follow forever #2020 follow forever

37 notes · View notes

fullmetalscullyy · 3 years

Text

the way it was - chapter 35

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1915

building bridges over land and sea

shine a blinding light for you and me

to see, for us to be

“Mia, come on!”

Riza’s cry carried up the stairs to Mia’s bedroom. She’d go up there and hurry the girl along herself but Maes was already strapped into his pram and she couldn’t bring herself to leave him alone. Happily, he gurgled and played with his teething toy, oblivious to his mother’s antsy behaviour.

“Mia!”

“Coming,” she cheerily replied, no sense of urgency in her tone or gait whatsoever as she hopped down each stair individually.

“Come on, slowcoach,” Riza rushed, shooing her daughter out the door and passed single suitcase she’d packed for her children. “Aunt Vanessa is waiting on you at the station already and we’re late.”

That fact alone was enough to turn Riza restless. The last-minute change of destination was also grating on her, sparking anxiety in her stomach and worry in her heart.

“Sorry but I couldn’t find Mr. Brown,” she replied, hugging her bear tight to her chest.

“That’s okay, but now we need to walk quickly, all right?”

“Okay, Mummy!”

Marching on ahead, Mia’s rucksack slapped gently against her back as she skipped along the pavement.

Riza extended the handle of their suitcase and started to pull it along behind her as she pushed the pram with one hand. It wasn’t ideal but it would have to be.

Mia and Maes were going to Xing with Vanessa. Mia thought her aunt and grandmother were taking them on holiday, but in reality it was all a ploy to protect them and get them out of Central. Just in case.

Whatever was being planned by the homunculi it was on a grand scale. Roy was fairly certain it would not affect civilians in the slightest, however his counterattack would send Central into disarray in order to throw Bradley off the top. It wouldn’t be safe for them. And if it wasn’t safe for them, it wasn’t for anyone… Any number of things could happen on this ‘Promised Day’ Roy kept talking about, and it just made Riza’s anxiety worse.

She may lose him. He was staging a coup. It could succeed but it could also fail. He’d ran through it with her and from Riza’s end it sounded strong and fool proof but… Any number of things could happen. Riza tried not to think about it, but at the same time she couldn’t help herself.

Vanessa was initially going to take just Mia with her, then a heatwave had been recorded in the desert and it was determined it would be too much for Mia to handle. With the train tracks to Xing being buried underneath sand there was no other option than for them to find somewhere else to go.

Riza didn’t care, so long as Mia out of the way of potential harm. It had broken Riza’s heart to keep Maes at home with her but there was no way she could send her toddler through the desert.

Once everything was settled and it was decided they’d head up north instead, so Mia could see and play in the snow, news came that there had been a border skirmish with Drachma and the country was on high alert because of it.

A third and final plan was made in the last week. It would take both her children to Xing with Chris and the rest of their aunts. It was announced the tracks had been cleared and the trains were running smoothly, so, after essentially experiencing whiplash of emotions and changing plans, Riza wanted them on a train and heading out as soon as possible.

It was all for their safety, she reassured herself, but it still hurt at the thought of saying goodbye.

“Be good for Grandma and Aunt Vanessa, okay?”

Patting down Mia’s jacket, Riza smoothed her hands over it, ironing out invisible kinks while Vanessa looked on with sympathy.

“I will Mum!” Mia’s beaming smile was committed to Riza’s memory.

Her eyes lit up suddenly as her attention was diverted and drawn elsewhere, over her mother’s shoulder. Riza lifted an eyebrow at Mia’s sudden elation.

“Dad!” Mia almost screamed.

He was jogging up to the platform and looking like he’d run all the way from Central Command.

“I made it,” he panted, pressing a hand to his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

Mia ran around her mother, leaping into his waiting arms. Roy’s smile was broad as he spun her in place over his head, laughing with joy.

“You too, baby Maes.”

Riza pulled the toy away from his face to get a better look at it. His frown was committed to memory as well, a choked laugh leaving her. Every time someone tried to stop him playing with a toy, that little frown appeared. Aside from that, he was the happiest baby in the world. He barely cried and was so mellow. He took after his sister that way.

She would miss them both so much.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Riza bent down to place a kiss on his forehead. Maes blinked up at her, breaking out into a massive grin. His arms reached out, asking excitedly to be picked up, and it almost caused Riza’s heart to break.

“I can’t just now, Maes,” she explained quietly. She quickly cleared her throat. “You’re going on holiday with Aunt Vanessa –”

“Riza, please,” Vanessa begged, interrupting her. She had tears in her eyes. “Pick him up and give him a cuddle.”

Nodding, Riza took a deep breath and unstrapped her son. He giggled and closed his eyes, burrowing his face happily into the crook of her neck. A tear did threaten to drop down Riza’s cheek then. Eyes squeezed tightly closed, she forced herself to hold it together when she heard Roy and Mia’s excited laughter behind her back.

“I love you, Maes. So much. And I can’t wait to see you again.”

Maes pulled away, pressing a hand to Riza’s cheek. It was enough to make her freeze in place while he broke out into another grin and nuzzled his head against her neck one more time.

Riza gave him a squeeze, feeling her knees shake. She locked them tightly, squeezing everything tight to keep herself from breaking down in front of everyone.

She didn’t want to say goodbye to her kids.

Roy’s hand appeared suddenly on her shoulder. He gave it a quick squeeze as his thumb caressed it gently. Riza let out a breath and turned to face him, feeling steadier and calmer with him next to her. She wasn’t alone in all of this.

“My turn,” he announced cheerily, reaching out for Maes. But Riza could hear the strain in his voice.

“Come here, Mia,” Riza smiled, beckoning her daughter forward. “I’ll miss you so much. Be good and look after your little brother for me,” she grinned, forcing out the smile.

“I will!”

“I’ll call you every day after you’ve arrived. Try not to have too much fun that you forget all about your old Mum and Dad,” Riza quipped, pinching Mia’s nose playfully.

“I could never forget you, Mum,” Mia replied fiercely, crushing her mother into a hug.

“Thank you, my Mia Bear. I will never forget you either. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Her hand had clung to the skin at the back of Riza’s neck. She felt the pressure increase, the tips of Mia’s fingers clinging onto her.

“Make sure you have fun, all right?” Riza pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I expect to see lots of pictures when you come back.”

“Oh, and I’ll bring you back a present!”

Riza’s heart melted. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to!”

“Okay, okay,” Riza eased off, raising her hand in surrender. “Well then…” Riza tightened her jacket over her shoulders after her farewell with her father left it off centre. The straps of Mia’s rucksack were adjusted too and Riza patted them once. “I can’t wait to see what you bring back.”

Vanessa wheeled the pram onto the train, Mia following closely behind. Once inside, both parents watched as they walked through the carriage to their designated booth. Mia clambered up onto the bench. With knees resting on the wood, her smile was large as she waved at them both in farewell. She and Roy mirrored her daughter.

Only when the train was out of sight did Riza’s hand lower slowly to hang limp by her side. The same happened to her smile.

“You okay?”

Riza nodded, feeling numb. The distance between them was already leaving her breathless.

“As well as I can be, I suppose.”

Both of Roy’s hands lifted to her shoulders as he stood behind her, watching in the direction the train had sped off in.

“It’s for their own safety.” His voice was low and sombre.

“I know,” she sighed. “That’s what’s most important to me. To us.”

“I can’t help but feel that it’s because of me, though.”

Riza shook her head, finally turning away from the tracks. She gave him a smile, trying to ease the guilt and unease of his face.

“Regardless of your plans, I would want them out of the way for whatever they’re thinking of doing. No,” Riza added with confidence, turning back to look after the train, “this was the best decision we could have made.”

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

She turned further into his embrace, looping her arms loosely around his waist. Head bent; Roy tucked her underneath his chin.

“I miss them already,” she mumbled.

“Me too. It will be so strange not having them around the house. Think of all the sleep we can get!”

Riza snorted a laugh, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. “We can catch up on so much.”

“Sounds perfect,” he quipped as he gave her a squeeze. His tone was full of sorrow as he spoke, mirroring Riza’s feelings.

It was anything but perfect. They would both miss them, but they’d get through it. It may have been an excessive plan, but as Roy said to her once, years ago, with her family on the line, she was very paranoid about their safety.

* * *

Riza entered their silent home feeling the weight of her children’s absence. Hayate bounded to greet her, and was happy to do so, but he still sniffed around her legs and whined, looking at the door for his best friend.

“They’re away,” Riza explained to him, shrugging out of her jacket.

Like he was with Mia, Hayate was very protective of Maes. When sitting together in the evening Hayate would sit in front of whoever was holding Maes. It was as if he was guarding their youngest, taking the occasional sniff before settling. When Mia called he was happy to answer but not without one last glance and a quiet whine in Maes’ direction.

He was the best dog in the world, Riza was sure of it. No other dog could or ever would compare to him.

The silence of the house was oppressive, almost closing in on her. Sitting on the couch, finally still and alone with her thoughts, Riza’s shoulders slumped. The feeling of loneliness was the worst thing. It reminded her of a time when she was in her father’s home, working hard and keeping to herself. When she was truly alone as a child. Even with just Maes at home, Riza had him to look after. Every so often a disgruntled noise would leave him as he played with his feet on his playmat or he’d let out a tiny sigh. Riza listened out for those moments the most, feeling pure and unadulterated joy every time she heard it. Now, there was nothing. Longing crept into her heart, wrapping around it almost painfully.

She missed her children terribly and it had only been an hour or so.

Hayate padded over. He’d been hanging around the door, waiting to see if anyone else would walk through it, and Riza had left him to it. She knew no amount of coaxing would tear him away as he waited.

Hayate’s head cocked after he sat down at Riza’s feet, staring up at her. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and he smiled widely up at her, panting happily.

Riza’s smile never made it to her eyes, but she did try.

Hayate noticed. His tongue disappeared and he whined quietly. A wet tongue licked at the fingers resting upon her knee.

“Hey, boy,” Riza murmured.

He was scratched behind his ear with Riza running her hand vigorously over his head.

“Looks like it’s just me and you, for now.”

Hayate cocked his head once more before lifting his paws up onto her knees, smiling widely at her. Riza had no choice but to lean forward and hug him tightly.

“You’re the best dog,” she whispered into his fur, pressing a kiss against it.

The radio was switched on to a random channel in an effort to fill the silence. Hayate trotted around the house after her like a shadow, not leaving her side once.

* * *

“Hello, Riza,” Chris greeted through the phone. “Did the kids get away all right this morning?”

“They did, yes.” Pain gripped her heart at the reminder of their goodbye.

“I just wanted to call and check in on you.”

“Me?” That surprised her.

“Yeah. It especially couldn’t have been easy to say goodbye to the little one so soon.”

Under normal circumstances, possible threat aside, Riza agreed.

“So, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Chris continued.

“I’m fine,” Riza reassured. “Missing them, but fine. I don’t know what to do with my time now though. I’ve never had this much free time before.”

Even as a child her hours were filled with looking after the upkeep of her father’s house, repairing things here and there, while also travelling into town to procure enough food to feed three mouths. Any meat was gained by hunting in the forests and all the extra parts of the animal she didn’t need were sold on at the market in town. Anything to bring in some extra income for their family, because God knows her father certainly didn’t. His focus was alchemy only, not on what he would eat or that the house was literally falling apart at the seams. When Roy had come along her workload had cut in half as they used alchemy to patch it up.

“I wish I could keep you busy with some errands, but everything is done.”

A sense of sorrow washed over Riza. Part of Roy’s plan was to blow up Chris’ bar so they could both escape into the sewers. It had become like a second home to Riza and she would be sad to see it go. It held a familiarity to it, somewhere she could go in her hour of need and somewhere she’d found nothing but love and acceptance.

“I understand. Don’t worry about me,” Riza reassured, “I’ll find something. When are you making a trip of your own?”

“Soon.”

Chris was travelling by train to Xing on the eve of the Promised Day.

“It’s long overdue,” she added, “I need a holiday.”

“The kids will be happy to see you. Mia couldn’t wait for you to arrive.”

Chris paused on the other side of the line. Riza heard her soft exhale. “Want me to pass anything on?”

Riza wished there were something more she could send to her children through their grandmother, but there was nothing. “Just tell them I love them. And I miss them.”

“I will, Riza. Don’t you worry about that.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll take good care of them. I expect great things from Roy, but I won’t forget your part in it all either,” she added. “Keep him right for me.”

“I will,” Riza promised.

“You ground him. I can see that clearly. I don’t think you’ll have any problem with it but this whole Hughes situation…”

Riza’s chest tightened at the memory of the last time it was brought up.

“He’s an emotional kid. Smart as hell and can pluck a sound strategy out of thin air but when it comes to those he loves, he’s emotional.”

“I know.”

Chris scoffed. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You obviously already know.”

She was worried about him. It was plain as day. Although quite sharp with Roy and not the most maternal person in the world, she cared deeply for her son and loved him a lot.

“I’ll look after him, Chris. I promise.” Riza masked the sound of her knowing tone behind her vow.

There was a beat of silence before Chris spoke. “Thanks, Riza.”

* * *

“It’s far too quiet without them,” Roy muttered, chewing his food thoughtfully as he stared down at the tablecloth.

Like her, he was missing the usual hustle and bustle of their dinner table. Mia would be chatting animatedly about anything she could think of, filling the room with laughter and noise. Riza would sit feeding Maes with a bottle while her food kept warm in the oven. Roy would eat, his replies overexaggerated and excited as he encouraged Mia to share everything about her day. Once Maes was fed, Riza would pass their son over to Roy once he’d finished eating, and he’d entertain him while Riza ate her own dinner.

“How do you think I feel all day?” Riza smirked at him, spooning more gravy onto her plate.

“You’re right,” he sighed. “Well, at least Hayate is still here.” Peering around the table, Roy looked over at their dog who was eating his own dinner off to the side. “So that’s something.”

“Very true. If he weren’t, I don’t know what I’d do. Probably go stir crazy in the silence.”

Roy’s gaze flicked back over to look at her. “Does it remind you of… being at home with your father?”

“It does,” she replied, picking up her knife and fork. “It’s a weird feeling,” she frowned.

“Does it bother you?”

She thought over his question. “It did a little at first,” she admitted. “I feel guilty sometimes though for saying I enjoy the quiet,” she snorted softly. “I can hear myself think. But…”

Riza sighed. Her hands stilled and the eating utensils came to rest on her plate.

“It did bother me. It was too quiet and too lonely. But then I remember how far we’ve come.” Her hands started to move, cutting into her steak. “And I remember that we’re fighting for their future. It’s worth going through this now for that and for them.”

Roy nodded, head bobbing as he stared thoughtfully at his food in silence.

The mood of their house was a quiet but solemn one that night. The Promised Day was tomorrow, setting Riza on edge. Roy was leaving late that evening to head to Chris’ to begin to slowly set his plan into motion. Thoughts of doom and gloom has surrounded her all week but Riza banished them that night.

Roy had been stressed out of his mind in the evenings, finalising plans and coordinating his attack. He’d silently and obsessively poured over maps and notes in his office, so Riza had entered quietly and rubbed at his tense shoulders without a word. She wasn’t there to disturb and interrupt, just there to try and offer some comfort and relaxation.

He’d always told her he grounded her, so she’d tried her best to do just that. She was the calm before the storm for him, cool and collected, while she hid her inner turmoil deep within her. He didn’t need her hovering over him, worrying about his mental state despite it being a real concern for her after that week.

Although, his hands had pulled at her shirt most nights, tugging it from the waistband of her skirt. Hands ran up her sides feverishly, gripping tightly and running over her skin smoothly. They’d fallen into bed together more than once, both desperate for a connection to one another. He’d assured her he’d be all right as they cuddled in bed at night, pressing a placating and loving kiss into her hair. It didn’t soothe her anxiety and fears, but she still appreciated and loved him for his effort.

Riza carried the dishes from their dinner through to the kitchen while Roy wiped down the table. Once in they were in the sink his hands tugged at her hips gently, but hard enough for Riza to take a tiny step back to steady herself.

“Roy,” she scolded lightly with a laugh as she reached for the hot water tap.

His hand retrained her, and he threaded his fingers through hers, guiding it away from her chore to rest above his heart. Turning to face him Riza saw a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She was twirled in front of him, like they were dancing, before he tugged her tightly into her chest.

“We need to clean up –”

Roy shook his head. “We don’t. Not tonight.”

“But it will –”

“Please,” he whispered, begging her.

The hidden and silent storm of emotions in his eyes was enough to make Riza begin to understand. He wanted her tonight, for as long as possible. If tonight was their last of peace then he wanted to spend it with her. He didn’t want to do boring things like chores of pour over his plans one final time.

“What do you need?”

Riza surrendered to him, allowing his footwork to move her slowly to the centre of the room.

“You.”

The reply, spoken so simply and easily, broke down her defence and she succumbed to her husband’s love and desire to hold her tightly.

A hand was placed on her back securely, pulling her body closer to his. Angling her head, Riza rested it on Roy’s shoulder. His chin bumped the top of her head gently, finding its resting place there. A satisfied hum rumbled through his chest, the sound loud underneath Riza’s ear, while his hand pulled hers back atop his heart. Underneath their joined hands, Riza felt the steady thump of it. A warmth she couldn’t explain washed over her entire body. Here, like this, she felt at home. A part of her was still missing – her children – but it felt a little more bearable to deal with in Roy’s arms. Listening to his blood pump through his veins calmed her, a reminder that she wasn’t alone.

The two of them slowly swayed together to the faint sound of the radio in their living room, finding some semblance of peace before it would be shattered with the coming dawn.

They moved for what felt like hours, simply existing together. There was no one to interrupt, no one to drag their attention away. This moment was bittersweet, reminding her of the night before he left for Ishval. Déjà vu flooded her, making her eyes close as she fought through the painful memories that had been the toughest few months of her life. However, without that pain she’d experienced, she wouldn’t be here today. Riza wouldn’t have two children she loved unconditionally. It hadn’t been meaningless, that suffering. It had set her on the path she found herself on today, supporting her husband and nurturing her children.

With the lows came the good times. She remembered hearing Mia’s laugh for the first time. The way she’d flashed her gums, her tiny but perfect face squinting up at her mother happily. Watching Roy sleepily cradling Maes, trying to get him to fall back asleep during the night. Meeting Roy’s team for the first time, welcoming those people into her life and forming such a strong bond that they felt like uncles to her children. Laughing and joking with Rebecca throughout the years, and welcoming a new friend, Sheska, into her life.

Riza wouldn’t have traded it for the world. No matter how tough some aspects had been.

Retiring to bed, they remained together. Riza’s hands were relentless, grasping at Roy’s skin as she tried to be closer to him in every way. His sweat drenched hair tickled the skin of her face, his lips buried into the crook of her neck. Kisses were littered across her skin, feather light but placed with so much tenderness and care it made her whimper. She returned the favour, worshipping her husband’s body in the way he did hers.

The hour was late when Riza was disturbed from her bliss. The mattress dipped behind her, tugging her from sleep. Immediately her eyes opened, and her head turned to see Roy sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands gripping it tightly.

Riza sat up, feeling cold air wash over her skin with the late-night chill.

“It’s time for you to go?”

Roy’s shoulders tensed, bunching up at his ears as his chin tucked into his chest in defeat. “Yes.”

He sounded hollow, defeated already. The weight of all he had to do carried in his voice, settling on Riza’s heart and making it ache.

Scooting over and wrapping the sheet around her exposed body, Riza’s hand lifted to rest on Roy’s spine, in between his shoulder blades. The instantaneous reaction was for his shoulders to loosen and peel down from his ears. His chin lifted, looking out at the darkened room before him.

“Be safe,” she whispered as her thumb caressed the muscles of his spine. “And come back home to me.”

Slowly, Roy turned, bringing his gaze to hesitantly meet hers. They had no idea how this would all go but she would always think of the best for him. She wanted him to succeed, to take the biggest step he’d taken so far in his fight to give Amestris back to the people. Riza had so much faith and trust in him and his abilities. She often thought that if anyone could do all of this, Roy could. With such a far-reaching vision he was the best man for the job, and she’d support him to the top.

Their foreheads touched gently, taking a quiet moment together in the silence of the dawn.

“I have never loved anyone as much as I have loved you, Riza,” he whispered. “You drive me every day and gave me two wonderful children.” His expression was so open and vulnerable after pulling away. “I will always return to you.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” she smirked, pushing past the pain constricting her chest.

His lips found hers, pressing hard in their desperation.

“Go and save the world, Roy Mustang,” she breathed.

Their breaths mingled together and sparked up a heat she desperately wanted to give into but couldn’t. He had to go.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Riza Mustang.” He smirked playfully, despite the desire in his eyes to climb right back into bed with her. “So much. I’ll see you soon.”

His words were spoken like a vow and his eyes made direct contact with hers as he tried to convey just how much he meant that statement.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes

20 notes · View notes

puckinghell · 4 years

Text

Let It Snow | William Nylander

Summary Request:

alternatively, our flights get cancel and we’re two strangers who rent the last available car together (it might be a little dangerous but we’re living on the edge)

and

we always carpool home for the holidays from college but a storm hit and now we’re taking the last room at the local b&b

and

we don’t know each other that well but i found out that you’ve never been sledding skating and feel like it’s my personal mission to change that

Words: 10k (I’m SORRY) Note: So, a few things: I wrote most of this when I was either drunk or sick, so excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes. Second of all, you guys wanted one long thing instead of parts, so here’s 10k of word vomit. Third of all, this is cliche central, and I’m not even sorry. And lastly, I know Will’s family doesn’t live in Calgary anymore but I very well couldn’t have them drive to Sweden.

---

“I hate snow.”

It’s meant to be mumbled under your breath, for nobody to hear but you; you didn’t even really mean to say it out loud, but it kinda slipped.

You really hate snow.

The guy that’s sitting opposite you looks up. So far, he’s been engulfed in his phone, but now there’s an interested look on his face as he takes you in.

“Why?” he asks.

As if that’s a totally normal thing to ask a complete stranger in the middle or a crowded airport.

You shoot him a dirty look, take a sip of your coffee before answering him, your voice deadpan. “Have you looked around you?”

The guy looks, as if he actually hadn’t noticed before that the airport around him has been getting busier and busier, the people there more annoyed and miserable looking by the second.

“Oh,” he says.

Yeah, oh.

You huff and return your attention to the announcement board again, hoping the message is going to magically change.

It doesn’t. Flight delayed, it says.

“Are you going to Calgary too?” the guy asks.

Now it’s not really his fault: he hasn’t personally caused a huge snow storm to hit Toronto and he’s probably just trying to be nice, but you’re already in a bad mood.

So you snap: “No, I’m just sitting here for shits and giggles.”

“Never mind,” the guy mutters, and his eyes fix on his phone again.

Great, now you feel like shit about that.

However, the universe needs to give you a break. This has literally been the worst week of your life and it’s only Thursday: the only thing that has pulled you through so far is knowing you’re going to see your dad, and now it’s looking like that might be going up in flames.

“Excuse me, may I please have your attention,” a voice sounds over the speaker at your gate, and you perk up in your seat. “We regret to inform you that, due to the upcoming snow storm, all air traffic in this area has been cancelled until further notice. Your flight will not depart today. For more information, you may contact the information desk.”

“Fuck.”

The guy opposite you raises an eyebrow. “If you don’t want people to start a conversation with you, you might want to stop talking to yourself.”

He stands up leisurely, as if the cancelled flight is no bother to him at all, and grabs his suitcase. He points to the board, where it now says Flight cancelled instead of Flight delayed – fucking fantastic – and motions at it, as if to say “what can you do”.

“How are you so chill about this?” It’s more that you’re wondering out loud than actually wanting an answer, but of course the guy grabs the opportunity.

“Well, it’s still four days to Christmas, and Calgary isn’t on another continent. It sucks that there won’t be any flights anytime soon, but you can’t change the weather.” He smiles. “I actually love snow, personally. And a little snow has never stopped me before. So I’m gonna rent a car and drive to Calgary.”

You stare at him. “Drive? To Calgary? That’s insane.”

“I mean, not as insane as spending Christmas away from my family,” the guy reasons, and….

He might have a point. You could stay here, and be miserable alone, or you could drive to Calgary and spend time with your dad like you planned. You could be enjoyed your dad’s pancakes, drinking hot chocolate by the fire place watching Elf, within a mere 40 hours, if you put the gas pedal down.

It’s, objectively, insane.

“I’m gonna rent a car too.”

“Great,” the guy says, jovially. “We can walk together then!”

And that was not really your plan, but to be fair, you don’t really know where you’re supposed to go to rent a car and this guy is walking as if he does this every day, so you dutifully follow him.

You take this time to look him over; he looks funny, in sweatpants with white sneakers – in the snow! - and a hoodie with a coat. He has a beanie on and there’s a few blond streaks of hair escaping from under it. He’s wearing thick black framed glasses. The suitcase he has with him has the Gucci logo on it, and you find yourself wondering if it’s real.

The guy is dressed like he’s either super rich but doesn’t care, or is slightly blind and got a 13 year old high school boy to pick out his clothing at a weird second hand shop.

“What’s your name?” the guy asks, and you frown.

“Why do you care? I wasn’t aware we were going to become best friends in the time it takes to walk to the rental car booth.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, remaining completely unbothered as if you didn’t just snap at him. “I’m Will.” He glances over at you, seemingly amused. “It’s just a cancelled plane, you know. Not the end of the world.”

“It’s not just about the plane.” You almost tell him about the week you’ve had, but you decide it’s not worth the trouble. After all, you’re just going to rent a car and then you’re going your separate ways, and you’ll never see him again.

That’s the plan, at least. But it wouldn’t be this time in your life if your plan didn’t get ruined.

“I’m sorry, miss, that was the last car we have available,” the woman behind the computer says, right after she’s handed Will some keys. “Everyone is trying to get outta here by car, now that the planes aren’t going.”

You nearly, nearly, start to cry.

“What do you mean the last car? Surely you have a car somewhere,” you beg. “Any car. A bike. I don’t care. I have to get to Calgary for Christmas, you don’t understand…”

“I understand,” the lady interrupts, the friendly facade sliding off her face. “Unfortunately, I cannot help you. Have a good day.”

Have a good day?

“Look, lady…”

You’re about to yell at her some more when you feel someone tap your shoulder. Of course, it’s Will, beaming down at you with the keys to your last option in his hand.

“Yelling at her won’t work, you know. It’s not gonna make you feel better or stop you from being in a mood.”

Something inside you snaps.

“In a mood? You wanna know why I’m in such a mood, Will? I’m in a mood because this Monday, I got told my residency at the hospital I work at might not be available to me next year, because they’re cutting personnel at the department. On Tuesday, I ran my legs out of my body for 15 hours before they told me that I shouldn’t come back after Christmas. On Wednesday, my boyfriend of almost a year broke up with me because he’s looking for different things in life, whatever the fuck that means. And the only, only thing I was looking forward to was seeing my dad again, and now this stupid snow has ruined that for me as well. So excuse my mood, but I will yell at whoever I want to!”

Will blinks at you, then raises an eyebrow. “Feel better?”

Slowly, you exhale through your nose. You do, actually, feel better, and Will seems to know that because he’s grinning.

“If you’re done yelling, I was gonna ask you…” he trails, “do you want a lift?”

---

Arguably, this is a bad idea. You don’t even know this guy. He could be literally anyone.

“You could be a serial killer,” you tell him, putting on your seatbelt and sinking into the passenger’s seat. “You could drive me out of the city, murder me, dismember my corpse and leave me in the woods.”

“Hmm,” Will hums, as he starts the car. “I could, but that would massively delay my arrival time.”

You kick up your feet on the dash and play with the radio; the only songs you’re getting are Christmas songs, and that’s just not the right mood. Of course, as soon as you settle on some station that’s not playing Christmas music, Will frowns.

“Do you hate Christmas? Cause if you’re the Grinch, I’m gonna have to kick you out now.”

You look out the window; Toronto traffic is bad as always and you’re standing still barely out of the airport.

“I’m not the Grinch. I just don’t love Christmas.”

“How?” Will exclaims. “Christmas is the best holiday of the year!”

“I prefer Halloween,” you say, and Will rolls his eyes.

“And I’m the serial killer.”

“Christmas is overrated. I don’t care for trees in my house, creating a mess, Christmas movies are cheesy, Christmas songs are objectively bad and everyone is just stressed around Christmas time, trying to find gifts and decorate and wear stupid sweaters and go to parties with people they don’t like.”

You don’t tell him that you also don’t like Christmas because when your mom left, she said she would send you a Christmas gift.

As if that made it okay for a mother to leave her 12 year old daughter behind.

“Grinch,” Will mutters under his breath. You reach out and smack his arm, and he yelps in surprise. “Hey, don’t hit the driver, we could crash!”

“We’re literally standing still.”

“I could accidentally press the gas!”

“Then you’d be an idiot!”

You sigh and drop your head against the headrest, staring out of the window at all the headlights surrounding you.

It’s gonna be a long trip.

For the first few hours of the drive, it turns out the not be the worst. First, you and Will talk about your families a little: he’s got four siblings and his parents are still “very grossly in love” (his words) and you tell him that you’ve got just your dad and grandma left.

You don’t tell him what happened with your mom and he doesn’t ask, which is probably good judgement from his side.

Most of the time, however, you nap and Will drives or you drive and Will sleeps; you both decided that you want to get to Calgary as fast as you can, and not stopping is the way to do that.

It feels like it’s been days, but in reality you’ve only been driving for about 8 hours when Will stretches beside you and yawns.

“We should stop for gas,” he says, “and get me at least two liters of coffee to inject into my veins.”

“Probably a bad idea,” you deadpan. “That volume of liquid into your system would probably kill you instantly, and if it didn’t, the caffeine would give you a heart attack. Also, if you have to pee in an hour I’ll kill you.”

Will grins. “No good outcome possible for me, then, huh?” He points out the window. “Gas station.”

While you’re driving down the lane, he turns to look at you.

“You’re a nurse,” he says, and you frown.

“Yeah, I told you that.”

“I know, but like, you’re an actual nurse. I didn’t think about what that meant. But that’s really cool.”

You sigh. “Well, yeah, but if I don’t find another residency I’m gonna be half a nurse. And that won’t pay the bills.”

“You’ll find one,” Will says, easily enough, as if it’s a mere fact, and for the first time since you got the news, you feel some of the anxiety in your stomach settle.

It’s probably strange, that the fact that this guy, who you have only spent one day with, can tell you it’s gonna be fine and you believe it.

Maybe it’s because he seems truly genuine in his conviction. Maybe it’s because you’re just that desperate.

“Coffee?” Will asks, and you shake yourself out of your thoughts.

“I’ll go get it, you fill the tank,” you say, because you really want to stretch your legs. You spend your time wandering the little shop, getting two large coffees and also a few snacks for the road – what else is there to do in a car but eat and nap – and when you finally reemerge, Will is talking to someone next to the car.

“So awesome to meet you, dude, huge fan,” the man says. You watch as Will scribbles something on a napkin with a pen.

“Anytime. Sorry I don’t have paper.” Will smiles at the man politely as he hands him the napkin.

“No problem!” The man seems very excited about the napkin, and as he walks back to his car, he looks at Will again over his shoulder and waves. Will waves back, then turns to you and makes grabby hands for the coffee.

“Gimme!”

“What was that?” you frown, holding the coffee out of his reach. “Who was that?”

“A guy,” Will deadpans, “and a napkin. Coffee, please?”

You don’t hand it to him but he somehow manages to snatch it out of your hands; he’s faster than you’d think he’d be, and he’s back in the car before you can ask again.

Luckily, he’s stuck with you in this car for a while.

“That wasn’t just a guy,” you say, stubbornly. “He was really excited to see you. Does he know you?”

“I don’t know him,” Will answers, and that’s about the best deflecting you’ve ever heard.

“Not what I asked.”

Will sighs. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Do you watch hockey?”

“Hockey?” you repeat dumbfoundedly. “Like, where people skate after a piece of rubber? No, why?”

“But you know hockey is a pretty big deal in the city, yeah?”

You don’t know why Will is pressing the issue; you’re more interested to find out who the man is, but Will seems very intent on this line of conversation, so you decide to let him get away with it for now.

“Yeah, my boyf… ex boyfriend is a big Maple Leafs fan.”

Will snorts, but before you can ask what he means by that, he points to your phone, that’s laying in your lap.

“Google Maple Leafs number 88.”

“Why, is he hot?” you tease, but you do as he says.

William Nylander, your screen tells you, and beside it is a picture of Will.

“Kinda,” Will says blankly.

You look at Will, and then at your screen. Then back at Will. “That’s you,” you bring out, and Will chuckles.

“Well, yes. Does that explain enough to you?”

And it does. You might not watch hockey – you don’t really watch sports anyway – but you know from your ex how big a deal it is to some people, and you can imagine what it must be like to be a Leafs player living in Toronto.

You also remember your ex screaming at the television screen.

“Rough season so far, huh?” you say. “That why you wanna go to Calgary so badly?”

Will smiles, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “Yeah, kinda. I mean, new coach, new opportunity, I’m excited, it’s just…” He pauses, seems to ponder his answer. It doesn’t sound like a rehearsed media answer, when he finally speaks. “I really need that new start, but I need a little break to empty my mind a bit, first. Put it into perspective, I guess. My dad is really good at helping with that, and so is my brother. Alex plays in the NHL too, and my dad used to. It’s… They know what it’s like, but they’re not on my team, so they offer more of an outside view.”

“You can tell me?” you offer. “I don’t know shit about hockey, so I’ve got an outside view.”

Will is laughing, then, and his eyes are twinkling and the car feels strangely small, suddenly.

“What do you do when you suck at your job for a while, and everyone loses their faith in you, and then you get better but nobody believes in you anymore?”

For the heaviness of the question, his tone is light, and he’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in beat with the music, as if he asked about your holiday plans.

You think of your mom.

“When I was little, I used to patch up my dolls with plasters and tell my mom I wanted to be a nurse. She said I couldn’t because I fainted at the sight of blood.” You shrug. “You just have to show them, I guess.”

Will nods slowly, then breaks into a smile. “Did you really faint at the sight of blood?”

“Shut up,” you chide, and the mood is lifted. It’s getting dark outside and you know you’ll have to start napping soon if you wanna take over driving in two hours, but for now you’re perfectly happy listening to Will’s chatter and the soft rumble of the engine in the background, as the car speeds down the highway, getting a little closer to Calgary with every passing minute.

---

Your eyes flutter open to darkness around you, and the car sitting in the parking lot of a gas station.

You turn just enough to see Will: he’s behind the wheel, eyes closed, his mouth slightly agape as his head hangs back.

The car is surrounded by snow: white flurries of it floating down to the ground, hitting the car.

For a second, you wonder why you’re not cold. Then you catch sight of Will’s coat, draped over your legs and stomach. You can’t help but smile at it, and then you close your eyes again.

The situation feels safely serene and safe, and you might as well take advantage of that and get some more sleep.

---

When you wake up, it’s to the sound of Christmas music coming from the speakers, Willy’s voice singing along.

“Not the time for Christmas carols,” you groan, and Will laughs.

“It’s always time for Christmas carols, Y/N,” he chides. You hear rustling, and you finally open your eyes.

“I stopped for a few hours,” Will says, “just to get some sleep. But we’re up and running again.”

Ah, that explains the scene you woke up yesterday. You glance at the clock: 7am. The sun is slowly starting to rise.

“It’s too early for you to be this happy,” you grumble. You haven’t had any coffee yet and that means you’re really not in the mood to have Will radiating energy around you.

“How are you not this happy?” Will asks. “Look outside!”

Outside is the road, but you understand what he means. Everything is covered by a thick layer of snow.

“It’s… white,” you say, because that’s about as far as you’re getting.

“It’s beautiful!” Will’s eyes are lit up with excitement.

“You’re insane,” you state, because that has been proven by this exchange.

“No I’m not! Snow is amazing. It’s beautiful, and it’s fun. Everything gets better in winter.”

You crank up the heat in the car and rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Everything does not get better in winter,” you frown. “First of all, it’s cold. Everything is slippery because of the frost, the snow turns to yellow mush within a few hours. You have to shovel the driveway.”

“Or you could build snowmen with it. You can go skating on the ponds. Have snowball fights.”

You snort. “Snowball fights? What are we, 12?”

Will’s eyes widen slightly. “You’re never too old for a good snowball fight.” His voice is fond as he continues. “I play in the snow with my younger siblings every winter when I’m home. That’s like, the best part of Christmas.”

And, well…

“I can kinda get that, in concept,” you say softly. “There was never really anyone to play with me, I guess.”

Will’s eyes are a little sad as he glances over at you, but he doesn’t say anything. You appreciate that: you’re not ready to share anything more and it’s like he senses that. Instead, he changes the subject.

“Hey, have you ever been skating?”

“Nope,” you say, and the grin Willy shoots you is a little wicked.

“We’re changing that today.”

---

What Will means, apparently, is that it’s a good idea when you’re halfway between Toronto and Calgary to stop in a small little town and find an ice rink.

“This is insane,” you protest. “We’re losing time!”

“We’ve got 48 hours til Christmas,” Will shrugs, “and only an 18 hour drive left. Come on, after this we’ll drive straight through. It’ll be fun.” His eyes are shining and you can literally feel the excitement buzzing off of him, and, well…

Skating did always seem like fun to you. When you were younger, you asked your dad to take you once, but renting skates costs money so it never happened. You remember the disappointment in your dad’s eyes as he had to tell you no, so you didn’t dare ask again.

“I’ll buy you hot chocolate after,” Will coaxes. You don’t understand why he wants to go that badly: he spends most of his days on the ice, anyway, surely he’d be happy for a break.

“Fine,” you grumble, and you can’t help but laugh at the smug look on Willy’s face as he pulls the car to the side of the road.

The rink is small and filled with people. There’s a lot of small children that are skating behind little chairs, and you can picture yourself being there too.

“I’m gonna be so much worse than them,” you whine, at the same moment one of the kids falls onto the ice. A woman helps the little girl up and she goes right back at it.

You don’t think you’re gonna be that brave.

“Oh, shush, I’m not gonna let you fall,” says Will, and you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

This whole situation is so freaking cliche, and you are not going to fall for it.

You rent skates for you and Will brings his own, because of course he brought skates in his suitcase. You’re struggling with the laces on the bench next to the rink, mostly to stall for some time; your heart is beating fast in your throat and your hands are a little clammy.

“Need some help with those?” Will is sitting sideways on the bench, and he’s grinning at you amused while you struggle. Feeling a little bold, you swing your leg into his lap.

You can tell he wasn’t expecting it because his eyes widen slightly, but then the grin only broadens and he starts carefully lacing up your skates. You watch as his fingers work the laces expertly – it’s clear that he’s done this a million times before – and then, his hand curls around your ankle.

“Other one,” he orders, and you switch legs.

Finally, the skates are on and Will hops to his feet, extending his hand and helping you to your feet. You’re already wobbling and you’re not even on this ice yet.

“If I break my leg, I can’t drive,” you say, mostly because the thought pops into your head.

Will rolls his eyes. “You’re not gonna break your leg.”

“If I hit my head and have a concussion, I can’t drive either.”

“Y/N.” Will’s voice is firm enough that you look up at him. He’s frowning. “You’re not gonna break anything, or hit anything, or fall. If you really don’t want to do this, we can leave now, but if there’s any part of you that agrees that this could be kinda fun, I promise you I’ve got you.” His eyes are a little shiny as he adds: “Trust me?”

And it’s stupid, you know it is, because you barely know Will. You’re pretty sure you’d have found out if he truly was a serial killer or any other type of psycho, but you can’t be sure he’s not irresponsible – although he did pull over in the snow – or prove that he’s trustworthy in any way.

And yet…

“I trust you,” you say then, and the blinding smile that crosses Will’s face is worth the fear in your heart when you place your first foot on the ice.

You can feel it slipping right away, but Will literally hops on the ice next to you, two feet planted firmly on the slippery surface, and places his hands on your hips, steadying your waist. In a reflex, your hands curls around his biceps, and once again you are reminded that holy shit, he’s a professional athlete.

“Wow, easy,” Will hums. He slowly guides you further away from the door, and your other foot adds to your first, and then you’re gliding.

You can’t call it skating: Will is moving backwards and pulling you with him, but you’re not necessarily moving on your own.

The first round goes like that, and then you decide to be brave and start moving your feet.

To be fair, Will keeps his promise. He never leaves your side, his hand firmly on your lower back even when you do start skating yourself, ready to catch you whenever you stumble – which is a lot.

“I’m doing it,” you yelp excitedly, when he finally lets his hand hover a little away from you. “I’m skating!”

Will laughs. “Proud of you, babe.”

And it’s probably just something he says; he probably calls a lot of people babe, it probably means nothing, and yet…

“Help,” you manage to squeak, and then your arms are waving in the air and your feet are slipping from under you and you try to maintain your balance, but you can pinpoint the second it’s a lost cause.

For a split second you’re plummeting towards the ice, but then two arms are wrapped around your waist and you just kinda… hang there.

“Thanks,” you say dryly. You’re hanging in Will’s arms as he’s hysterically cackling out laughter above you. It takes him a few seconds to compose himself and pull you up.

“Majestic,” he giggles, and he tightens his grip on your waist when you slap him in the chest.

“Rude,” you grumble, but you can’t help the smile that’s tugging at the edges of your lips.

It’s weird, but suddenly you notice how close he is, and when his eyes travel to your lips the smile falls from his face and you can tell he noticed too.

You stare at him, and it’s like the air is charged with something; your heart is beating in your throat and you swear he’s moving closer.

Oh, you think, we’re gonna kiss.

Strangely enough, the thought doesn’t send panic to your throat the way it did when your ex kissed you the first time, the way it always has when someone kissed you. Instead, it’s like everything inside of you goes calm and quiet.

You want him to kiss you. And it’s a little scary how not scary that is.

You’re interrupted by a small voice.

“Mister Nylander?”

Will startles, yank back fast enough that you nearly tumble straight back down to the ice, but one firm hand on your waist keeps you standing. He turns around then, to face the little girl that spoke: she can’t be more than five years old and is wearing a helmet with a cage, holding a hockey stick in her hands and staring at Will with wide, starstruck eyes.

He bends down into a squat – on skates, literally, how – and smiles at the girl.

“Hi, yes, that’s me. You can call me Willy, though. What’s your name?”

“Amanda,” the girl beams. “Can I get your autograph, mister Willy?”

“Sure, kiddo,” Willy says. “How about I bring my friend here to the safety of the ground and I shoot some pucks with you, huh?”

Amanda looks like someone just offered her the entire world and everything in it. “Please,” she says, and Will quickly guides you towards the side of the rink.

“I won’t be long,” he promises, and he almost looks apologetic, which…

Which is ridiculous. Because you can tell that him just being here made that little girl’s day, and you think of the things you wanted as a little girl and the heroes you never got to meet, and…

“Take all the time in the world, please,” you say. “I’ll go get myself that hot chocolate.”

For two hours you sit at the side watching Will with the kids. Somehow after Amanda more and more kids appeared and now he’s created somewhat of an impromptu hockey team because they’re all playing and the adults cleared the rink.

It’s entertaining, to watch Will with the kids. He’s a good teacher, and you can see them hitting the net more and more as time passes on, and he clearly makes it fun: they’re all laughing and screaming and at one point, a few of them tackle Will to the ice, where he rolls around and pretends to be unable to get up, yet hops to his feet the second the kids get distracted.

It’s insane, how comfortably he moves around. Like, you knew this, because he’s a professional hockey player, of course he can skate, but you didn’t really think anything of it until you see it in action. He’s obviously not even trying to do anything fancy, and he’s probably not trying to be fast either, but he is, and he stops without problem and turns in any direction and even jumps over a puck, at some point.

You can’t lie. It’s kinda hot. But then, you’ve always had a thing for people who were clearly good at something.

For example, your ex was a really good painter. He was also really good at being a lying, cheating bastard.

Before you can go too far down that rabbit hole, there’s commotion on the rink, someone crying and then Will’s voice, too loud: “What happened?”

When you look up he’s kneeling in front of a little boy, who’s crying and staring at his hand.

You jump up, worrying, but Will has already lifted to kid in his arms and is skating towards you now, with big strides.

“He took a skate to the hand, we’re gonna need some bandages,” he says, and a parent yells something about getting a first aid kit while Will puts the kid on his lap on the bench. “Can you look at him?” he asks you, worry evident in his voice even though he’s clearly trying to remain calm. He’s a little pale, but you don’t have time to deal with that right now.

“Hey, buddy,” you coo at the kid, kneeling in front of him, placing your hand on Will’s knee to steady yourself. “What’s your name?”

“Tim,” the kid cries. “My hand hurts!”

“I know it does, Tim. But the good news is that we can fix it,” you promise him, examining the hand. It doesn’t look too bad: there’s a cut, but not deep enough to perforate anything more than flesh, so you’re not too worried.

The first aid kit arrives and so does Timmy’s dad, who doesn’t seem too bothered. “He falls all the time,” he says, “that’s what hockey is, isn’t it?” He preens at Will, who dutifully ignores him in order to talk to Timmy in a low voice.

You wrap up Timmy’s hand and tell him to take it easy for a few days, and then before you know it you’re in the car and Will is holding the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are turning white.

“Do you want me to drive?” you ask tentatively. There’s no answer, but Will isn’t turning on the car. “He’s gonna be okay, you know.” Silence. Another try. “It’s not your fault.”

“I just can’t believe,” Will starts, but he seems to choke on the last word and lets the sentence die, drops his head and inhales sharply. It takes a while, but finally he speaks, a little more composed. “I hate when parents tell their kids that hockey is about pain and sacrifice. It can be, sometimes, but it shouldn’t be, not for a little kid. It should be about fun, and learning skill, and being with teammates, and loving it. It shouldn’t be about falling and injuries.”

He sounds so frustrated that it tugs at your heart strings, and for a split second you allow yourself to wonder what Will was told by his dad, when he was a kid himself.

“He wasn’t even trying to soothe him,” Willy bites. “He was too busy fawning over the presence of a professional hockey player, and I don’t… I don’t wanna be the person these idiots believe I am.”

“And you’re not,” you blurt out. “Will, these kids had so much fun with you.”

Will smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I just… Me and my brother, we always had fun skating. My dad told us it was important to always have fun. But I’ve seen it happen to friends. They were so passionate about hockey, but their parents pushed them, wanted them to be better too quick and told them to suck it up when the skates hurt their feet and it just fizzled out, you know? Until one day it wasn’t any fun and they quit.”

“It’s a shame,” you echo. “But your dad…?”

“He was hard on us, sure.” Will shrugs, smiles for real this time. “Pushed us to be better. But he always made it fun.” He turns to you. “Your dad… He stood behind your dreams?”

You remember you told him your mom didn’t think you could be a nurse, and you laugh. “The blood thing, you mean? Yeah, he didn’t agree with my mom. He always told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, and if I decided I wanted to be something else, I could be that, too. He’s always been there for me.” You shrug. “I’m lucky to have him. My mom… She left when I was 12. And I…”

You stop, for a second, wondering if you’re really gonna tell this to a complete stranger. But the thing is, Will doesn’t feel like a complete stranger anymore. Talking to him feels more comfortable than talking to most of your friends, and you can tell he really cares about what you’re saying, and you just, you want to tell him, so you do.

“I don’t like Christmas because my mom left right before Christmas, and she said: ‘I might not see you for a while, honey, but I’ll send you a Christmas gift.’ She didn’t, and I never saw her again.”

When you glance at Will, he’s frowning, a deep crease edged into his forehead. “That’s messed up.”

“Yeah, but, it was a long time ago. I’m mostly over it, I just never learned to love Christmas the way most kids do, I guess. My dad tried to make it fun for me, but it was always the reminder, you know, that I didn’t have a mom and other kids did.” You laugh, a little bitterly. “And then this year my ex-boyfriend dumped me on the 16th. My mom left me on the 17th. So I guess December is just not a good month for me.”

“Your ex is an asshole.” Will says it with such force, gritting his teeth, that you can’t help but reach over and put your hand on his knee.

“It’s okay,” you muse, and the tension leaves Will’s shoulders as he carefully wraps your hand in his.

His hand is warm and a little rough and there’s something hammering in your chest, and you wonder how it’s possible that you met him two days ago and he’s already making you feel more than your ex-boyfriend ever had.

You guess you never really liked that guy as much as you told yourself you did.

“It’s not,” he says, but he doesn’t so upset anymore. “And if he was here, I’d punch him in the face. But I’m glad to see you didn’t let him hurt you too much.” Will grins. “And now you’ve been skating, so, like, fuck him.”

“Fuck him,” you echo, and Will starts the car.

18 hours to go. And then you’re in Calgary, and you’re gonna see your dad, and you’ll probably never see Will again.

For some reason that thought leaves a sinking feeling in your chest.

---

“Psst.” You groan as someone softly tugs your arm. You try to turn around, but there’s something digging in your back and you can’t quite get there. The tugging gets more persistent. “Hey, Y/N.”

“What?” you grumble, finally forcing yourself to open your eyes, and it’s only when you see Will’s face in front of you that you realize you’re not in your bed. You’re in a car, it’s pitch dark outside, and you’re standing in front of a lit up building.

“Snow storm is getting really, really bad,” Will says. “We have to stop for the night. It’s not safe to keep driving.”

You’re about to tell him to stop being such a baby, and you’ll drive, no problem, when you risk a glance out the window and see… nothing.

Literally, almost nothing. Just a big building, and some lights that could be from streetlights or UFOs, for all you know, because there’s a big blanket of white covering your sight. Snowflakes are streaming down in a curtain, and you can hear the wind howl around the car.

Okay, yeah, maybe it is unsafe to drive.

“Where are we?”

“Hotel,” Will says. “I checked, only hotel within 10 minutes of the highway. Pray that they have a room for us.”

He leaves you in the seat to wake up a bit more, and goes to get your luggage; he swings your bag over his shoulder and hauls his suitcase out of the trunk, and finally opens your door.

“Come on.”

You grab his hand and let him pull you out of the car, although you walk in front of him to enter the hotel. The woman behind the desk looks up as you open the door.

“Please close that behind you,” she says, friendly enough, “I swear if that cold comes in I might freeze, here.”

“Hi,” you say to her, “I know, it’s bad, right? We were hoping you have two rooms available for us, so we can escape the storm?”

The woman types something on her computer, then frowns. “I’m sorry, it’s very busy at the moment. Lots of people stopping in from the highway. I have one room left, if you’d like? Double bed.”

Oh, fuck. You’re not sure if you’ve quite wrapped your head around in, when Will chimes in next to you.

“Cool, we’ll take it.”

“We…” you start protesting, but Will raises an eyebrow and looks at you with so much attitude that it shuts you up.

“Would you rather freeze to death in a car?” he asks pointedly. “I’ll take the couch or the floor, or whatever, chill. I promise I won’t murder you in your sleep.”

Getting murdered is not what you’re worried about, to be honest. You’re worried that sharing a hotel room with Will is just gonna make these feelings in the pit of your stomach worse.

But there’s not really another option.

“Fine. We’ll take it.”

“You know,” Will chirps, when you’ve got the keycard and he’s taking the luggage up the stairs, “there’s a lot of girls that would kill to be forced to share a room with me.”

“That’s because they’ve only looked at your face, and don’t know your personality,” you drawl, and you know you’ve made a mistake when Will’s face lights up.

“You think I’ve got a pretty face?”

“Not what I said,” you answer quickly; too quickly, because Will is looking way too smug as he takes the keycard out of your hand and opens the hotel room door.

The room itself is nothing special. It’s small, but the bed looks comfortable and it’s warm, so you’ll take it.

“Shotgun on the bathroom,” you say as soon as you get in, and Will rolls his eyes but dutifully flops on the bed and starts typing on his phone while you find your toothbrush and disappear to the bathroom.

When you walk out, Will is laying sprawled over the bed, although he’s luckily still on top of the duvets. His hoodie has ridden up a bit and his sweatpants are – dangerously – low on his hips, so there’s a strip of skin showing.

Your mouth goes funnily dry, all of a sudden.

The thing is. You might not have wanted to be stuck in a hotel room with a guy you met at the airport only 2 days prior, but if it had to happen, Will is not a bad guy to be stuck with. He’s, objectively, very hot – you’re not blind – and he’s funny, and easy to talk to, and he’s been nothing but nice, even when you were a teeny tiny bit rude to him at the airport.

Did you mention he’s very hot?

“I’m gonna shower,” he says, jumping up from the bed.

While he’s doing that, you lay in bed and scroll through Instagram on your phone. Maybe you stalk Will on Instagram, only for a little bit, and you find a picture of him with his siblings that’s so cute it has you smiling at your phone.

“What are you smiling at?” Will’s voice surprises you so much that you drop your phone on your face with a yelp, and the sound of his laughter rings in your ears as you bury your red hot face into the pillow.

You hadn’t even heard him open the bathroom door again. Luckily, you don’t think he saw, but you lock your phone just in case.

Then, you look up, and if you thought you couldn’t be any redder in the face, boy were you wrong.

Because Will is wearing boxers, and nothing else. Now, you think to yourself, as you glance at him before shamefully returning your gaze to your hands, if you had a body like that, maybe you’d be more keen on showing it off too, but…

“You’re gonna be cold,” you tell him, and you can hear, more than see, his eye roll as he says:

“Okay, mom.” Then, he opens the closet and takes another duvet out. “I’ll be fine, I have this.” He grins a little cheekily, as if he fully knows what he’s doing to you. “Normally I sleep naked, but…”

“But not today,” you squeak, and he’s laughing again.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he’s getting to you, you throw the second pillow at his head and then roll to your side.

“Goodnight, Will.”

“Goodnight,” he answers softly. You listen as he potters around the room; probably tries to get his ‘bed’ for tonight as comfortable as possible. Finally, the lights click off.

You can’t sleep. You know it the second the lights are off, and Will’s breathing evens out. Your mind is going a million miles per hour and there’s so many things that happened, that you’re going to have to overthink before you can sleep. What’s not helping, either, is the fact that Will keeps tossing and turning.

You’re starting to feel a bit bad. You’re in a bed that’s big enough for two – maybe even three, it’s that big – and Will is laying on a cold, hard floor, with just one duvet and a pillow.

Outside, the wind is howling, and you know if you looked out the window the entire world would be covered in white. The room is warm enough, but you picture how there must be a draft, so close to the floor, and suddenly you can’t take it anymore.

It’s selfish, to make him sleep on the floor all because you’re worried about wanting things you can’t have.

“This is stupid,” you say, sitting up. “You should just sleep in the bed.”

For a second, it’s quiet. When Will speaks, he sounds unsure. “Are you sure? I mean, the floor isn’t great, but I don’t mind, I promise, if you’d rather not…”

“Look, we don’t have to, like, cuddle, or anything.” You can feel yourself blush but in the darkness of the room, there’s no way Will can see, so you keep talking. “You stay on your side, I’ll stay on my side, and it’s basically the same distance as having you on the floor. Just, the floor is cold, and uncomfortable, and there’s no need to…”

“Okay,” Will cuts you off, and he jumps up, duvet in hand. He’s grinning as he slides into the bed, curling the duvet around himself. “You don’t have to convince me, I was just being a gentleman.”

You snort. “Don’t do it again, it freaks me out.”

“You drive tomorrow, then,” Will hums, and it already feels better, to hear his voice right next to you instead of from somewhere at your feet. He sounds better, too; lighter, and more comfortable. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm?” you answer, finally closing your eyes.

“If I had to cross the country in a Kia during a snow storm with anyone from that airport, I’m glad it’s you.”

You think of what you were thinking before, and smile.

“Me too, Willy, me too.”

It’s quiet again, and Will’s breathing starts evening out. For some reason, you still can’t calm down: you try to match your breathing to his, but it’s too shallow and you can feel your heart beating in your chest.

“You’re fidgeting,” Will says then, his voice loud in the quiet room. Only then do you notice that you have been twisting the duvet between your fingers time and time again. Will goes to lay on his stomach and turns his head to you. “You okay? I can sleep on the f…”

“It’s not you,” you interrupt him. It is, of course, but not in the way he thinks.

“Okay,” Will says slowly. “Then what?” Before you can answer he reaches out and slowly wraps his hand around yours, causing your fingers to dis-attach from the duvet.

And, the thing is…

You could tell him to mind his business. You could tell him a lie, or something that’s kinda true but not the real reason.

Tomorrow, you’ll be in Calgary. On your dad’s couch, drinking hot chocolate. And Will is gonna be in his own house. And then after Christmas, you’re both flying back to Toronto, but you’re not stupid. Will is a famous, and really attractive, athlete. You just got out of another failed relationship. You’re not good at relationships, turn out; you don’t even know if you really believe in love, anymore, don’t know if you even think it’s worth it to try.

But right now, you’re here, and he’s here, and you swear you’re not imagining the way he looks at you, sometimes.

You’ve had to deal with cancelled planes, problems at work, a dumb ex boyfriend, and this stupid everlasting snow, ruining your life one day at a time. So, you might as well give yourself this one thing that you want.

“Or, it is you,” you say, and you can feel Will stiffen beside you. “But it’s not that I don’t want you in this bed with me. In fact, it’s kinda the opposite.”

You can feel your cheeks flush: you’re not good at this, don’t really know what to say.

But then Willy grins and suddenly he rolls around, his body now hovering over you as he pushes himself up on his forearms.

“So does that mean I finally get to kiss you?” he hums, and you answer by pressing your lips against his.

---

Hours later, you’re both naked, a mess of tangled limbs in sheets, and Will’s chest is rising and falling with every peaceful breath. You close your eyes and bury your face in his neck.

Outside, it snows, and it snows, and it snows.

---

You wish you could enjoy the next 10 hours.

First, you spend 2 hours getting showered and ready – it would’ve been a lot shorter if Will hadn’t slipped in the shower with you, so it’s his fault if you’re late – and then you have breakfast at the hotel while Will tells you more about his family.

His face lights up when he tell you which Christmas gifts he’s got for his siblings and it’s adorable.

Then, you drive. The final 6 hour drive, and it flies by so fast you would’ve believed it if someone said it was just 2. You drive the first few hours and then Will takes over for the last part, and you chat the whole way there.

At some point, Will starts singing along to Christmas songs, and you don’t even change the channel.

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow,” Will croons; you can’t help but laugh and then you’re both laughing and singing along at the top of your lungs.

You wish it never had to end.

“So,” says Will, “this is your street, huh?”

You decided he would drop you off and take care of returning the rental car, and you’re almost regretting that decision cause you would’ve liked those 20 extra minutes with him. However, you know that that is, objectively, insane, so you ignore the knives that are being ran through your heart when Will parks the car on the curb.

“Home, at last,” he says, softly. He’s not smiling anymore. “So, when we get back to Toronto, we should…”

“Don’t,” you interrupt softly. “We both know this is where it ends for us.”

At this, Will frowns. “It doesn’t have to.”

“Yes, it does.” You swallow heavily, try to get rid of the lump in your throat. It doesn’t feel right but it is, and you need to let it end here before you end up with hopes that will crash and burn and expectations that will never be met.

“What if I don’t want it to?” he asks quietly.

As much as Will might believe he wants to see you again – and you don’t doubt that he’s being truthful about that - it’s just not realistic.

People don’t meet the love of their life in an airport after a cancelled flight, don’t live together forever after long a cross-country drive, don’t live happily ever after after a snowed in hotel.

People do leave their husbands and kids the week before Christmas, they do cheat on you, they do break your heart.

Snow might make things seem more magical, but after all, it’s just frozen water.

“But I want that.”

Will’s face falls, his eyes sad and honest, but he nods slowly. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks for the drive, then.”

His voice is distant, now, cold and impersonal: you know you deserve it but it hurts, anyway, and you scurry out of the car, take your suitcase out of the trunk.

You’re standing next to the car, ready to walk down the driveway, when the window opens.

Will’s head pops out, and he sends you what you think is meant to be a smile. It’s not a real one, and he still mostly just looks sad, but he’s trying, you think.

“I know December is a hard month for you, but I truly do hope it’s gonna get better. Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

The window closes and the car drives off, and something inside of you breaks.

“Merry Christmas, Will,” you whisper with tears in your eyes. You could’ve stood there for hours, but the front door opens.

“Y/N?” your dad’s voice calls. “I’m so glad you made it, you won’t believe the snow we’ve had…”

---

There’s a blanket on your lap as well as Snuggles – your dad’s cat – and you’re drinking tea while Elf plays on the television.

Your dad has been talking excitedly all through dinner, but now it’s quiet as he watches the movie. He seems happy, light, and it soothes something inside of you.

Sometimes you worry about him.

It’s not until the end credits roll that your dad turns to you. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks tentatively, and that’s all that you need to hear in order to break into tears. “Oh, honey,” he sighs, then takes your hand in his. “What happened?”

You have no idea where to start.

“Dad,” you whisper, “do you think you can die from a broken heart?”

Your dad smiles sadly, shakes his head. “If you could, I would’ve been gone by now, probably,” he jokes, but it doesn’t land. “Is this about that boyfriend of yours?”

And, well, the funny thing is, you haven’t told your dad about the break up, but it doesn’t even matter. Your heart is broken and it has nothing to do with your ex.

So you tell him about Will. You tell him about how you almost weren’t here, tell him about cancelled planes and one lone rental car, about how he went from Will to William Nylander right back to Will, about coffee breaks and sleeping on the side of the road and skating and the little kid who hurt his hand, about snow storms and a hotel room with one bed – not about anything else from that night, though – and finally you tell him about goodbye.

When it’s all said and done, your dad frowns. “You keep saying it had to end. But honey, it sounds like you really like this guy.”

You do, oh God, you do.

“Why would it have to end?”

You don’t say anything, but as always, he knows exactly what you mean.

“Just because it ended for your mom and I doesn’t mean it always has to end, you know. Sometimes it’s worth to try.” He pats your hand. “I think you should call him.”

And that’s when it hits you. It doesn’t really matter if you’d wanna call him.

You don’t even have his phone number.

---

“Y/N! Patient in room 11!” your colleague yells. “I’m going to the kid in room 4 if you need me!”

You sigh and throw down your clipboard. You have no idea why the hospital is so busy; it’s December 28th, which promises a disaster on New Years Eve, which is usually your busiest day of the year.

Fireworks, man.

You’ve been on your feet for 9 hours but you don’t even really mind. Just the thrill of working in a new hospital has been keeping you going; it might have something to do with the fact that this hospital will let you finish your residency, too. They called you the day after Christmas.

Some might call it somewhat of a Christmas miracle.

“I’m on it,” you call back, then start making your way to room 11. You nearly bump into the doctor you’re working with today, and she halts you by putting a hand on your arm.

“Are you a Leafs fan?” she asks.

It might be the weirdest thing someone has randomly asked you; the conversations you have had with this woman have ranged from “can you get me some blood from the vomiting boy” and “in what room do I find the catheters” and now she’s asking you about your sports teams?

Your heart clenches tightly as you think of Will.

“Not really,” you answers. That seems to be the right answer because the doctor smiles and waves towards the room, telling you to enter. You’re still confused by the whole exchange when you walk into the room and nearly trip over your own feet.

“Oh,” Will says slowly, “that’s quite a coincidence.”

It’s like your tongue has grown two sizes; you can’t speak, can’t even begin to think of what words to say, when suddenly you notice something.

“What the hell happened to you?”

There’s blood all over the hand he’s clutching to his chest, and his face is white as a ghost. Next to him is an equally pale guy wearing a Leafs sweater, who is staring at you with wide eyes.

“Uhm, I fell,” Will says sheepishly. “Turns out snow is quite slippery.”

It hasn’t snowed in Toronto in days.

“He didn’t fall in the snow,” the guy next to him grumbles. “I tried to wrestle the remote out of his hand and he fell into the Christmas tree and sliced his hand open with an ornament.”

“And Kappy has just promised to clean everything up, right, Kap?” Will asks with a sly smirk. Some of the color is returning to his face, which is more than you can say for his friend Kappy.

“Okay, well, let me have a look,” you mutter, and you gather some of your supplies before sitting next to the bed.

If you try very hard to avoid Will’s eyes and focus completely on the gash on his hand, that’s between you and the hospital room.

“So, first aid, huh?” Will asks. “Found a new job? Told you.” He sounds stupidly smug, so you raise your eyebrow and press the gauze to the wound. He inhales sharply. “That’s mean.”

“I’m trying to clean it,” you tell him sternly. “Sit still. God, Timmy was a better patient.”

“Hey,” Will protests, offended. “I’m a perfect patient.”

When you see how deep the wound is, you wonder how it’s possible that Will is still so chatty, and you also feel a little nauseous; it’s always different when it’s someone you care about.

“I’m gonna go get doctor Summers,” you say, and your voice is a little unsteady.

You’re probably imagining the edge of disappointment to Will’s voice when he says: “Yeah, okay.”

While doctor Summers examines Will’s hand, his eyes are fixed on you, and you keep yours fixed on your shoes. There’s so much you want to say to him, so much you want to do, but this is not the time or the place and also you have no idea how to start a conversation like that.

You tune back into the here and now when you hear the word “surgery.”

“It’s not a real surgery,” doctor Summers says, “I just think we need to set a bone and we also need to stitch up the muscles.”

Will is a little pale again as he nods.

You get send away to prepare the necessities for the procedure and when you come back, Will’s friend is gone.

“He’s gonna pick me up when I’m done,” says Will, who sees you looking. “Are you gonna… Are you gonna be here, while she does it?”

“Nope,” you answer, and this time you’re definitely not imagining the way his face falls. “Are you gonna get in trouble with the team for this?”

Will pulls a face. “I’ll probably get a stern talking to from Kyle.” When he sees your expression, he laughs. “My boss.” He sighs, looks out the window.

It’s started snowing, again, because apparently the universe loves taunting you.

“You know what the worst thing is? I ruined my tree.”

“That’s definitely not the worst part,” you roll your eyes. “It’s after Christmas, you should’ve probably taken it down anyway.”

“I couldn’t take it down yet,” says Will, his face completely serious, “there’s still one Christmas miracle I’m waiting for.”

He’s staring at you intently and you can feel your heart beating in your throat.

There’s no way he means…

But what if there is?

You make a decision then, and when Will is getting his hand worked on in a different room you run to the cafeteria.

“Hey,” you yell at the lady behind the counter. “I’m gonna borrow this for a second!”

She looks at you like you’re a crazy person and you can’t blame her: you’re literally standing in your scrubs, screaming at her from the middle of the cafeteria after having just yanked a tiny Christmas tree from the table.

“Okay?” she yells back, and it sounds more like a question than a blessing, but you take it and run anyway.

Room 11 is still empty; although Will’s coat is still lying on the bed, so he must be coming back. You take the tiny tree and put it on the bed side table, plug it in.

There’s only about 10 lights in the tree, but when you flick off the big lights, it still looks pretty Christmassy.

And so, you wait.

To say you’re nervous would be an understatement; there’s every possibility in the world that Will has changed his mind since you last saw each other, and the last thing he wants is you confessing how much you like him in a hospital room after just having destroyed his hand, but you have to try.

Every time you think about bailing, you hear your dad’s voice in your head.

Sometimes it’s worth it to try.

This is one of those times.

“No strenuous activities, take it easy…” Finally you hear doctor Summers voice and you stand up.

The door opens tauntingly slowly, and there is Will. At first, his eyes widen as they catch the Christmas tree, and then his head swivels around and he sees you; a slow smile spreads across his face.

“A Christmas tree?” he asks.

“Well,” you smile, “you did say you wanted a Christmas miracle…”

“But you don’t like Christmas,” Will points out.

And that’s true, but…

You take a step closer and Will raises an eyebrow, questioning but not looking like he wants to run away.

“I don’t,” you admit. “I didn’t. But then something happened… Or, well, someone happened. And now I’m thinking that I might have to give Christmas a chance.” You’re standing right in front of Will, now, and he had all the time in the world to back off but he didn’t. Instead, he’s looking at you with an amused expression on his face, the corners of his mouth curled into a tentative smile.

“I think there might be a few things I have to give a chance,” you finish.

“God,” Will breathes. “I really hope you mean us.”

Instead of answering, you kiss him.

It feels somewhat familiar and yet as if you’ve never been kissed before: there’s fireworks in your stomach and everything feels warm and fuzzy, like nothing matters except for the feeling of Will’s lips on your lips, his chest pressed against yours.

“Y/N!” someone yells from the hallway, and you reluctantly pull away.

“I have to get back to work…”

“Okay,” Will whispers, pecks you cheek quickly. “But we’ll talk…”

“I’m done with work in an hour,” you interrupt.

Will nods. “I’ll tell Kappy he doesn’t have to pick me up.” He grins. “Unless you’d rather not drive in the snow?”

“Shut up,” you tell him, but it’s with nothing but fondness.

You’re already running to the hallway, ready to see the next patient, when you hear Will yell after you: “You said you hate snow!”

And that’s kinda true, but…

Sometimes, even if it messes up your plane, or gets you stuck in a snowstorm, or makes you fall on your ass…

You just have to let it snow.

#william nylander #toronto maple leafs #winter prompts #william nylander imagine #william nylander one shot #nhl fic #nhl imagine

457 notes · View notes