#christmas quotes bundle

[christmas-svg]

20 Designs Of Leopard Christmas Quotes SVG Merry Christmas SVG Files

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚

The festive additions to Bucky’s Soldat costume had been a genius idea, you only had to work out the best way to bribe your boyfriend to go along with it, first.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 》 Scare Actor!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 》 2.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 》 Fluff, Bucky is a tease

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 》 Look, I cannot be blamed for this — can you just imagine him in a Santa hat, in costume?!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 》 @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Halloween had passed in such a daze you hadn’t stopped to take in just how fast time had flown, and now, it was the off season for Bucky’s (favourite) job — sure to return next year, but still, he never lost his spooky spirit. 

You were at your apartment, lounging in the living room and watching reruns of your show, when the idea popped into your mind. 

Before, Bucky said to you that he didn’t care so much for Christmas, or festivities of any holiday; the only exception being Halloween. What captured your attention, however, was the visual and thought of his character — the Soldat — in Christmas garb. 

With a harsh gasp, you jumped up from the couch and walked down the hall to where you stored your Christmas decorations — packed away neatly so they wouldn’t be a nightmare to unravel the next time you would touch them (thank you past self, you praised). 

After a short time of digging, you found your prize: a bright red, fluffy Santa hat. The fluffy material along the rim of the hat had an embroidered line of cursive print: Santa’s Favourite Helper. It was a line that you honed in on when Christmas rolled around, and you hummed happily — all that was left to do was find a sweater. 

Your phone rang, and rang, until finally, the call was answered. Before Bucky could even speak, you blurted, “When will you be home? I need to know, it’s important.” 

“Well hey there, doll,” Bucky greeted, laughing. “A little bit eager, are we?”

You huffed. “Just answer the question.”

There was a moment of silence as you waited for him to work it out, then, “I shouldn’t be too much longer now, baby—couple a’hours, at most, it’s slow today. Why?”

Silently, you pumped your fist and dashed to your bedroom to throw on some more appropriate clothes to venture to the department store with. 

“Nothing,” you rushed, careful to keep your voice and breath steady. “Just wanted to know, that’s all. I want to bake your favourite cookies.”

“Really?” Bucky asked. You hated how suspicious he sounded. 

“Yeah—I have to go, I’ll see you when you get home.” The call ended, leaving your phone screen blank, and you paused. “He can’t have worked it out—nope, no time to waste on that.”

The clothes you bundled yourself up with were soft, warm and comfortable, perfect for a last minute rush to pull off an idea — one that will forever be immortalised in photos, whether Bucky liked it or not. 

Snow and sleet made the drive slower than you would have liked, but before long, you were pulling into the parking lot of the department store where you knew an array and assortment of Christmas sweaters were bountiful. 

And you weren’t wrong. 

Aisles and tables and displays were fit to burst with Christmas themed knits and shirts. They ranged from outrageous to subtle colours; matching sets for families and couples; to ones that had slogans, quotes, or sayings embossed or knitted into the pattern. 

The sheer amount of choice was overwhelming, and you took a deep breath, focusing on just what would suit Bucky and his costume. Black was the obvious and most revered choice, but how was that festive? You shook your head, then took a step forward, then another, towards the display of red sweaters. 

Historically, black and red always contrasted one another perfectly, an ideal amount of pop while still being subtle, you thought. “But it has to be soft,” you reminded yourself quietly, looking at the options. 

In the background, you could hear the Christmas carols playing over the store speaker, and the flickering lights of decorated Christmas trees became distracting with the flickering lights. “I just don’t know,” you mumbled, and you bit your lip. “I just– Oh.”

At the bottom of the display to your left, something caught your eye. The wool of the sweater was mostly red, but an ornate row of white snowflakes stretched across the chest and hem of it, while the sleeves had a small line of snowflakes from the shoulder to the cuff. “Yes!” you rushed. 

It was soft, softer than you could have imagined, and you couldn’t help but dance on the spot with triumph. And, as though it was fate, you looked back down to where you had grabbed the red one from to find a matching green sweater. The wool was just as soft, and it was in your size, too. 

A squeal of joy escaped from your throat before you could shove it down, and you almost ran to the cashier to pay. 

You rushed home, desperate to get your plan in motion, and it was only when you walked into your apartment and closed the door behind you did you allow your excitement to truly escape. The sound of your feet padding over the floor was as fast as a rabbit, and you had just as much determination to focus on what needed to be done — first, Bucky’s costume, it had to be laid out so he would see it, and you had to leave the sweaters where they wouldn’t be seen on first glance. 

Then you had to fulfil your promise — Bucky’s favourite cookies. 

With a nod, you rallied your energy, and set to work. 

The apartment was full with the sweet, delectable aroma of baked cookies; sugar and butter, with a hint of cinnamon and not to mention, all of the chocolate and cocoa you used. “If this isn’t a bargaining chip, I don’t know what is,” you said aloud, staring at the cooling rack of treats. “Damn.”

You jumped in fright when your ringtone sounded from the other side of the bench. “Shit!”

Bucky’s face lit up the screen. “Hey,” you greeted, shoving your phone between your ear and shoulder. The containers you needed were up high, and you stretched with a grunt to reach them. “What’s up?”

“You wanted to know when I was gettin’ home so bad,” Bucky answered, and you could hear the wind in the background — he must be outside, you thought. “I’m on my way to yours—what’s so urgent? You know that you’re shit at hidin’ things, sweetheart.”

Silently, you mouthed a curse and looked at the cookies. “Nothing’s urgent. I just miss you,” you said aloud. “I promise.” It wasn’t a lie, you really did miss him, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. “Hurry back, okay?”

Bucky laughed and you heard the creak of a door opening — his prized car. “Sure thing. I won’t be long.” He hung up after saying goodbye, and you panicked. 

“Crap.” The container you had been reaching for tumbled to the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck—shit, dammit!” You dashed back to the counter, container in hand, and started to place the cookies in neat rows, stacking them upon one another. “At least they were somewhat cool,” you muttered hastily. “Okay, right—costume,” you rushed, and you slammed the lid down onto the container. Never before had you moved so fast. “Costume—hustle, hustle.”

You ran to your bedroom, feet skidding over the floor, and you opened your closet to search for the duffle bag where Bucky kept his costume; it was tucked behind a row of clothes, safely out of sight. “There you are,” you mumbled, and you tugged on the handle, pulling it from the confines of its hiding spot. 

The rumble of a car engine startled you — how had he gotten back so fast? “Oh, no, no,” you rushed, hastily spreading out the costume on the end of your bed. From the front of your apartment, you heard the front door open, then close. 

Bucky’s heavy boots thudded in the entryway, then, “Hey, baby! I’m home,” he called. The chink of keys being thrown on a surface sounded. “Where are you?”

“Bedroom,” you yelled back, and you took a step back from the bed just as his footsteps neared in the hallway. 

“What smells so good, doll? Is it cook–” Bucky stopped, and you could feel his eyes on the back of your neck. “What’re you doin’ with my costume–?” 

You turned and smiled sweetly; the picture of innocence. “I want you to do something for me, please.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, then crossed his arms. His stance changed entirely with the posture, and you had to exercise every last whim of self-control to not drool at the broadness of his shoulders; the way his feet stood apart from one another, or how his head tilted that very same way as the Soldat’s did. 

“And, pray tell,” Bucky began, voice low. You shuddered. “Do you want me to do, exactly?”

“Okay,” you said quickly, pointing at his chest. “You know what that does to me, stop it.”

His grin was contagious and you couldn’t help but smile nervously. “Sorry—you made it far too easy, baby,” he soothed, and he grabbed your hand, pulling you forward and into his chest. “What is it, really?”

“Iwantyoutowearyourcostume.”

“What was that?” Bucky asked, a light laugh in his voice. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

You took a deep breath and said quietly, “I want you to wear your costume.”

Bucky hummed; starting to sway you both. “I figured. And why do you want me to do that?”

“Because I have a surprise for you, for when you’re wearing it,” you explained, and you felt Bucky stiffen in your hold, his body going rigid for a singular second. “No, it’s not that kind of surprise.”

“Aw,” he whined. “Fine. I’ll put it on—if I get to have some of what you’re baking.”

“Deal.”

The intermittent wait for Bucky to slip into his costume was almost painful, but you stayed seated on the couch in the living room, the bag that contained the sweaters and hat next to you. 

Heavy, thudding boot falls sounded down the hall, and you sat up straighter. 

“Okay,” Bucky said, muffled but nonetheless audible. He appeared around the corner and crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall. The black, signature mask of his fit made his eyes bright and clear, the blue of them turning grey. “What is it, and why am I in costume? And why are you lookin’ like you’re fit to burst from excitement?”

It took a second for your mouth to catch up with your brain, and you shut your jaw with a click. “I– Uh, I brought you a present, to go with your costume.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed, sweetheart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Smartass. Close your eyes.” 

Bucky did so, and you rose from your perch on the couch to walk over to him — the fabric of both items was soft on your skin. The sweater slung either side of your arm, and the hat was gripped in your fist. 

Your feet were quiet over the floor, and when you stood in front of him, he arched a brow in question, still keeping his eyes closed. 

“Open your eyes,” you said softly. 

His bright, soft eyes met yours — markedly different from what you were used to with this costume. “Ta da!”

Bucky looked at the hat, then the sweater, and he let out a heavy breath that was muffled by the mask. “I fuckin’ knew it.”

“What! You did not,” you exclaimed, eyes wide. “How could you–?”

“It’s Christmas.” He reached out and plucked the sweater from your arm. “You called and asked me when I’d get home from work—no doubt to go and get the damn sweater, and then you baked cookies. A bribe.”

You stood there, opening and closing your mouth like a fish out of water. 

“And–” He cleared his throat, glancing up at you; both flesh and metal fingers ran over the soft material while he spoke. “And then, you dig out my costume—the very same one I used to hunt you down on Halloween—and you tell me you have a surprise for said costume.” 

With a deep, exasperated sigh, he bunched up the hem of the sweater and pulled it up and over his head. The wool stretched over his broad shoulders — a snug fit.  

You couldn’t even speak, or say a single thing from the shock of just how easy your plan was unfolding. 

Bucky shrugged his shoulders and pulled down the hem of the sweater to cover his stomach. The leather shuffled and the metal buckles clinked with his movements. “There we go,” he hummed, tilting his head back and forth. “It’s a tight fit, but–” He grabbed the hat from your slackening fist. “It is warm, a good choice.”

“I–”

“Also, back to your sneaky ways,” he interrupted, staring at you; for a flash of a second, you could have sworn you were talking to the Soldat. “You need a lesson or two, kotenok,” he said, Russian lilt strong enough to make your breath hitch. 

“You–” 

Bucky’s free hand covered your mouth, and the corner of his eyes crinkled. “You’re not good at hidin’ things, baby.” 

Before you could retort, he pulled away his hand, and pulled the Santa hat onto his head; the pompom rested against his temple, brushing over the loose locks of brown hair. He blew out a breath, harsh enough to move his hair through the mask, then, “So, where are my cookies?”

Unlike before, you could not move fast enough. Your feet padded over the floor with Bucky’s laughter echoing behind you as you jogged into the kitchen and back again.

The container of cookies was heavy in your grip, and you shoved it into Bucky’s chest while he continued to laugh. “Here—just here, now I want photos.”

“Nope,” Bucky sang, striding off with his cookies. “Cookies first, kotenok—photos later.” 

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[sleepy0s]

the trio

This is like YHS was transported to hermitcraft! Quotes as you go.

It's midnight, I am so close to kicking my cat out of the room.

~~~

A bit of Narrating? IDK

~~~

Okay, so.. Current situation! Grian is gone..? No one knows where he is. But there are three young kids on the server! Maybe young.? They're like 16, we think. Either way, two of them have very heavy Japanese accents, the third has a mix of a british.? And the Japanese accent.? They keep whispering to each other in Japanese.. God if only Etho were here. 

~~~

Okay! Update! They know english. And, we’ve learnt their names! Sam, Taurtis and Grian. Now, even though all three of them seem very cute, Grian is very secretive about his past so it can't all be that good.

Talking about Grian! He is so cute! He's got cute little white dove? Wings, overly fluffy brown hair and so many freckles! He’s like a little bundle of joy! (Why isn't he like this anymore?)

~~~~~~~~~~

To the fic!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

YHS!Sam: If you were my husband, I'd put poison in your drink.

YHS!Grian: If I was your husband, I'd drink it.

~

Okay, lesson learnt. Don’t talk about relationships. 

The topic had come up between Pearl, Scar and Iskall. Unfortunately, Grian, Sam and Taurtis were nearby and started talking about it.

“Hey Sam, who do you think is most likely to get together from school?” Taurtis asked, skipping ahead of the two. “I dunno. Don’t think about that much.” Sam shrugged, looking towards Grian, “What about you Gree-on?”

“Not a clue. But I hope i dont get with either of you. I want a calm life in the future.” 

“Hey! I'm Calm!” Taurtis protested, gasping with fake offence.

Sam had stopped walking and was just standing on the path, a smile on his face, “You good Sam?” Grian asked, stopping to look at him.

He took a second, thinking about his words before talking, “Gree-on, if you were my husband, I’d put poison in your drink.” Taurtis was shocked. Not because of his words, no, no that was a normal thing for Sam to say. But because he had the guts to say it on hermitcraft, who all seemed to be very protective over Grian.

Grian, who walked over to Sam, his white wings twitching. He leaned in close to Sam’s ear before whispering, “If i was your husband.. I drink it.” Before he smiled and skipped over to Taurtis

~~~

Scar: Life could be a lot worse Taurtis

Taurtis: Life could be a whole lot better too!

~

Forced therapy, ah. Everyone's favourite thing.

Cub was currently sitting in a locked room, Taurtis sat opposite him. The teenager seemed.. Displeased. Their conversation had been going well, Cub had managed to get Taurtis to open up a bit.

“Just remember Taurtis. Life could be a whole lot worse.?” Okay, now that he thinks about it, maybe that is not the best use of words. This was obviously proven when Taurtis started yelling.

“IM SORRY? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME!?” Cub tried to speak, but was immediately cut off by Taurtis, “Did YOUR best friend stab you!? Do YOU live with a psychopath? Are YOU threatened with a knife almost EVERY day?”

“I-” 

“YEAH sure life could be worse. BUT IT COULD ALSO BE A WHOLE LOT BETTER!”

~~~

There you go c:

ALSO! By the time this is read it's probably gonna be christmas eve c: that just makes me happy

~~~

[letmeliveinelfhame]

Read/see how my Holly Black collection grew in the space of a year!! Apologies for the long ass post 😂

June 2023 - Read the main trilogy + The Lost Sisters on my Kindle for the first time. Fell in love and bought physical copies of the trilogy and How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories as a bundle from Amazon (I need The Lost Sisters to be released as a physical 🙏)

22nd June 2023 - a pin I ordered was dispatched

19th July 2023 - the Jurdan bookmark I bought was dispatched

August 2023 - Bought The Stolen Heir and Book of Night (still haven't read it yet, though) from The Works

1st November 2023 - Ordered Tithe from Waterstones

5th December - First photo shared to one of my Instagram accounts (the collection was so small back then 🥺)

25th December 2023 - Received Illumicrate replica of Jude's sword, FairyLoot playing cards and Cardan trinket dish and US collector's edition of The Cruel Prince as Christmas gifts

17th February 2024 - Waterstones order including Valiant and Ironside arrived

20th February 2024 - Elfhame candle I ordered was dispatched

4th March 2024 - Entered the Bonnier Books UK sprayed edge duology (1 winner), Wren quote bookmark and The Prisoner's Throne sticker sheet (350 winners) giveaway by sending my proof of preorder of the book from Waterstones. Only 350 would be selected, but I was outside the 350 entries so I didn't think I'd win anything

8th March 2024 - Finished reading The Prisoner's Throne and added it to the little collection

10th March 2024 - I moved the collection to the mini bookcase behind my bed so it could have its own shelf

3rd April 2024 - I typed up, printed and tea-stained copies of Cardan's letters to Jude. To use the exact font, I had to use my college Microsoft account instead of my personal one as the font was a premium feature

8th April 2024 - Received the Wren quote bookmark and The Prisoner's Throne sticker sheet that I didn't think I'd win

May 2024 - I moved the collection back to my main bookcase, giving it a larger shelf

17th June 2024 - I received the Illumicrate editions of The Stolen Heir and The Prisoner's Throne from a reseller on eBay

29th June 2024 - Illumicrate edition of Book of Night arrived from a reseller on Vinted

9th August 2024 - I received the FairyLoot edition of The Prisoner's Throne as a birthday gift

Current collection:

I'm waiting for The Darkest Part of the Forest and 4 items to add to this 🙈

[palettepainter]

Incorrect cousin quotes!!

With all the cousin designs I have posted, time to make some quotes with them!

Liv/Zee/Penny/Lazer/Raph - me

Rand - @rottedbrainz

Gabe - @posies-and-bundles

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

Lazer, trying their first ever cup of coffee: I am ENERGY! Rand, an avid coffee drinker, on their twelfth cup of the day: Someone slap me awake or I am literally going to fall into a coma in ten seconds.

.

Raph: I think Lazer is in trouble. Rand: Alright. Struggling to give a fuck, if I’m honest.

.

Raph: Thought I was meowing back at my cat for the past hour, but it was just me and Lazer meowing at each other from different rooms in the house.

.

Zee: Why did you kidnap Liv!?!?! Rand: Ah- um- well- the reason for that is, uhh... Zoot: Sometimes, we must work together towards a common goal. Zee: NOT TO KIDNAP PEOPLE!

.

*when a child starts crying in public* Zee: *tries to make the child laugh* Liv: *tries to play a game with the child to make them calm down* Raph: *gives detailed instructions to the parents* Lazer: *cries with the child* Penny: *ignores the child* Zoot: *is the reason why the child is crying*

.

Zee : *sighs* I have no friends... Rand: Rand: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

.

Rand: Alright, listen up you little shits. Rand: Not you Liv. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

.

Rand, opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

.

Penny: What if people had food names and food had people names? Lazer: Hey, spaghetti, we’re having Penny for dinner. Gabe: What is wrong with you people? Raph: Shut up, chocolate.

.

Penny: So, what, now I'm just supposed to do anything Raph does? I mean, what if they jumped off a cliff? Gabe: If Raph were to jump off a cliff, they would've done their due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Raph jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff. Lazer: You jump off a cliff! Gabe: Gladly, provided Raph did first.

.

Raph: What’s it like being tall? Liv: Is it nice? Gabe: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? Penny: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

.

Gabe: Christmas is cancelled. Penny: You can't cancel a holiday. Gabe: Keep it up, Penny, and you'll lose New Year's too. Penny: What does that mean? Gabe: Raph, take New Year's away from Penny.

.

Liv: Aww, what's your dog's name? Rand: Spartacus. Liv, yelling to Gabe: TRY SPARTACUS! Gabe, on the computer: DIDN'T WORK! Rand: Liv: What's your favorite number?

.

Rand: Which way did Liv go? Gabe: Well, based on the direction of the wind, the broken sticks in the corner, and the slight disturbance in the dirt, I'd guess they went left. Rand: You could really figure it out from that? Gabe: No, you idiot, Liv sent me a text. See?

.

Penny: Astrology is fun because i can pretend that all of my behaviors are just a result of being a Gemini and not symptoms of mental illness. Zee: Being a Gemini is a mental illness. That’s not hate it’s just a fact.

.

Liv: Try not to roll your eyes at me. Gabe: I don't have pupils.

.

Lazer: I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just incredibly arrogant. Rand: Well, on a good day, I’m both

.

Lazer: Okay. Hypothetically speaking, how mad would you be if I burned a hot pocket so badly it could probably fall off a ten-story building and be completely fine? Rand: Lazer, what did you do? Lazer: Take a guess.

.

Raph: Make no mistake. Not only am I party rocking, but I am also in the house tonight. Penny: But are you shuffling? Raph: Everyday. Gabe: What language are you two speaking??

.

Gabe: Who wants to make fifty bucks? Raph: How? Gabe: I need someone to take the fall. Raph: What did you do? Gabe: I can't tell you. Yes or no, no questions asked. Penny, from the other room: Oh my god. Gabe: ... Penny: OH MY GOD! Raph: Make it a hundred. Gabe: Deal.

.

Raph: Regular soda is too sweet! Penny: Diet soda has a weird after taste! Raph: No! Ugh, oh my god. Diet soda is THE BEST! It doesn't have sugar! It's SPICY! Penny: It has other weird stuff in it! I'll take REGULAR sugar in my REGULAR soda! Raph: It's SO SWEET like it's a dessert though! Diet feels more like a drink! Penny: I'm going to physically attack you. Raph: Which is better, Gabe? Gabe: Oh, I usually drink water! Penny: Wha- NO! Raph: DISGUSTING!

.

Liv: So when are we gonna tell them? Zee: Just give them a minute. Gabe: *Pulling on a door that clearly says push*

.

Liv: Do you guys want to see a butterfly? Zee: Ooh, yes please! Gabe, with their laptop open: I'm not going to stop working to look at a stupid bug! Liv: It's not a bug though... Gabe: ... Zee: ... Gabe: Well I still don't want to see. Zee, realizing: Please don't throw- Liv: Whee! *throws a stick of butter*

[shortsnackattack]

Winter Getaway

Part 1 (?)

Pairing: Keishin Ukai x reader

Tw: none, just fluff with some light suggestive themes

Content: established relationship, slice of life, you’re getting ready for your weekend getaway (part one- before trip//possible part two-the trip itself)

It started innocently enough. You two were on the bus when an elderly lady struck up a conversation by complimenting your jacket. The couple must have been in their late seventies or early eighties and though the husband didn’t say much, the care he took in helping his wife off the bus, paired with the image of the two of them, huddling together against the sharp winter chill made your heart all gooey. As you watched the man carefully bundle his wife in his arms as they walked away your hand gave Keishin’s a little squeeze. Following your gaze, he shook his head in amusement before he pulled your hand to his lips and kissed your palm through the mitten.

Later that night as you were chopping vegetables at the counter and humming along to the radio, you thought again of how happy the couple had seemed, contented by a life shared together. Musing about what your life would look like by the time you were 80 you didn’t notice Keishin walk in until he was standing beside you, grabbing a piece of pepper from the cutting board to snack on. He leaned against the counter and watched you work, a small smile upon his lips.

“Are you all packed for our trip?” he asked, pushing away from the counter to grab a drink from the fridge.

You paused and the silence carried the guilt of still having about half of your clothes in the suitcase and the other half haphazardly stacked on top of the bed.

“If I were to say no…” you venture, daring to shoot a guilty smile at him over your shoulder.

“This is a hypothetical, right?” he asked, smirking.

“Oh most definitely,” you replied, hoping he hadn’t seen the ruin you’d left the bedroom in.

“So in this hypothetical situation, if you were to say that my lovely girlfriend has yet to pack her bags for our ‘romantic winter weekend getaway,’ which she not only named but also booked for us because, and I quote, ‘Keishin you work so hard I don’t think you even know what snow looks like anymore…’” You wanted to laugh at the way his voice went higher to mimic yours, but the way his gaze held your own nailed you to the floor. You were doomed. “Yes let’s say that my wonderful girlfriend set all this up and yet instead of packing she insisted that we go last minute Christmas shopping today…” By now he was leaned against the refrigerator, arms crossed over his chest and the same sarcastic smirk plastered to his face. You gulped, prepping for dinner completely forgotten. The angle of his gaze had your hair standing on edge.

“Yeah let’s say that’s the case, you know for science.” Your voice sounded weak even to your own ears.

“For science,” he echoed, his smirk turning into a full-on grin. “but you know, I was never really that good at science. I was always better at physical education.” His eyes pinned you to the spot and your palms went clammy. You could barely breathe by the time he crossed the small kitchen, invading your space, his voice lowering in the new proximity.

“Now,” he continued, taking the knife from your hand, and setting it behind you on the cutting board “why don’t you let me finish up here so I don’t have to give you a demonstration. For science.” Your mouth was so dry you could only gulp before giving a small nod and practically running out of the kitchen. As you shut the door behind you, a not-so-subtle voice was screaming in your head that you DID want him to show you, but the shame of the mountain of clothes on the bed kept you grounded. Your mind however, kept wandering back to the kitchen where you could hear the sizzle of frying veggies and the low hum of music.

Now suitably packed, you padded back into the kitchen where you were met by the smell of freshly cooked food. Keishin, watching you sheepishly enter gave you a warm smile and a soft, “there’s my girl.” After setting the dishes on the table he asked if you were packed and this time you didn’t shy away from the question. You really have been looking forward to this trip. A long weekend in the mountains, snow, skiing, skating, hot coco by the fireside…and Keishin, without any work schedules, or practices, or tournaments. Part of you wondered if he’d be itching to come back to the city the entire time, but the way his smile settled as you two discussed what you wanted to do first gave your heart a reassuring warmth.

Thank you for reading! 

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Since We're Alone - AU Steve Harrington x OC

warnings: college au, secret love, pen pals, steve harrington fluff

word count: 9.4k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1307057552-since-we%27re-alone-audra

Masterlist

Audra slipped her letter into the copy of IT by Stephen King and slid back into her study cubicle. She wrapped her wavy blonde hair back off her face with a scrunchie and tugged a few chunks loose to avoid a major headache as she crammed for her English final. 

Instead of opening her notes, the ones she really should have opened, she flipped to the back of her journal and gathered the bundle of letters between her fingers. 

A stack almost as thick as the journal itself, it tumbled messily onto the desk and she worked to bring them all back together in the order she had received them. 

The first had come earlier that year when she had checked out IT over Christmas break. Sitting alone in her dorm while the campus went quiet and was blanketed with snow she decided to write a letter to no one. 

She had just been sad and wanted to do something that made her feel a little less alone. 

So she wrote to no one about her Christmas break. Wrote about her classes and her heart. She wrote until the page was filled, front and back. Then slipped the letter into the copy of IT and returned it. 

Two months later, she had been sitting in the same cubicle she was now when a strange feeling bloomed in her heart. Like the spring air had whispered to her soul, check the book. 

And she did. There between chapters fourteen and fifteen was a letter that she had not written. 

That was over a year ago. 

She unfolded the last one, running her fingers over the page, and smiled. She had been making a list. Trying to narrow down her options of who her secret pen pal might be. She knew he was an athlete, she sometimes found herself wondering if his hair smelled of chlorine from the swim team or if he was on the basketball team and had stinky feet. 

The list had only made her more aware of everyone around her. The little things they did that had been mentioned in the letters. Even going as far as making a list of seniors he may be. 

“Hey, Audra!” A voice called for her from across the library. Eddie stood, dark hair pulled into a half bun, with his arm around Robin Buckley, “you coming to the party tonight?” 

The librarian shushed him and he stuck his tongue out at her.

 “Maybe,” she shrugged, stifling a giggle.

“What do you mean maybe? Audra, this is one of the biggest parties of the semester, you have to come!” Robin groaned, crouching down to look at her friend. “Don’t leave me here with Munson” 

Audra laughed, and shook her head, “Robin, every single party cannot be the quote biggest party of the semester unquote” 

As much as she loved her friends, these two were always on the dramatic side of everything. It was one of the reasons Audra had become such good friends with them, but sometimes, even she couldn’t give in to it. 

“Besides I have my final next week that I have no idea what I need to study for,” she sighed, gesturing to the litter of books in front of her. 

Eddie pursed his lips and cocked an eyebrow at her, “Come on Buckley, she’s not coming. She’s going to sit here and craft a letter to book boy” he said with a roll of his eyes. 

Audra scowled, and sucked in a deep breath, trying to hide a soft smile that was threatening to form, “First of all, I told you not to call him that, second of all, that’s not all I’m going to do! I really do need to study!” 

“No, what you neeeed to do is come have fun and hang out with your friends! All you ever do is sit in this library! We miss you! You’re the sane one!” Robin begged. 

“Ok, I will make you deal! Come back in a little while, and if I’ve gotten enough done, I will come with you, deal? But you have to let me work first!” She pointed between Eddie and Robin. 

Robin groaned which earned her another scowl from the librarian. “Fine,” she took a big breath. “But if you don’t show up and you left me alone with this-,” she pointed at Eddie who was drawing something into a book, his tongue licking his upper lip as he was concentrating on whatever masterpiece he was creating, “-I’m gonna kill you.”

Audra smiled and bit her bottom lip. “Come on, Eddie is fun! You’ll have a great time, I promise.” She tried to encourage her best friend.

“Edward Munson!” The librarian suddenly shouted. 

Eddie’s eyes widened, “I think we need to go,” he looked at Robin.

“What did you do?” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Nothing,” he lied and grabbed her arm. “Come on, let's go.” 

“Is that what I think it is?” The librarian walked towards Eddie who grinned.

The last time he was here, he had drawn a picture of the librarian into the book, picking her nose and eating dog poop.

“You look great today, Mrs. Watts,” he slowly stepped backward but couldn’t suppress a charming grin. Audra and Robin tried not to laugh at Mrs. Watts’ angry expression.

“That’s it, Mr. Munson. Get out!” 

Eddie saluted her before he winked at Audra. “Later Audry,” and left the library. 

Robin turned to Audra again. “I’m gonna go with him before he starts drawing me.” 

“Okay,” Audra smiled. Robin said goodbye and ran after the curly head. 

She sat back in her cubicle, staring down at the letters. There was so much she needed to study and get done before Eddie and Robin at some point came barrelling back into the library and dragged her out by her feet. But instead, she picked up one of the letters, and an involuntary smile spread across her lips. 

Dear bookworm, 

I can't believe you haven't seen Animal House. It's a classic and everyone should see it. I won't let that affect your coolness level though so don't worry about that. 

Audra laughed softly, the little doodled smiley face next to the words winked back at her. 

About what you said in your last letter, you aren't alone. It's easy to let those dark clouds follow you but at some point, they're gonna break and when they do....man it'll feel like the sky for once feels beautiful again. 

She gnawed on her lip, staring down at the words. It wasn't that she felt totally alone. She had Robin and Eddie, but she did spend all of her time in the library. Studying, reading, planting herself in the corner where she could see the spot It lived on its dedicated shelf. Hoping for a glimpse of whoever was writing back to her. 

Sometimes she'd sit there for hours and wonder what he looked like. At least she thought it was a man. His favorite movie was Animal House. There was no way it wasn't a man. 

But who? 

Once you get that feeling back, you'll be unstoppable. I know it. 

She smiled, running her thumb over the last few words before trailing down to where it was signed, Batman. 

Another laugh left her lips, she still never understood why he signed as Batman, but she thought it was cute and endearing. 

She folded the letter back up neatly, following the creases that get more pronounced with each time she revisits them. 

A soft, almost defeated sigh left her lips as she piled them all back up wondering whether her Batman cherished each one of their written interactions as much as she did. If he too had them stacked up somewhere, running to them when he needed refuge from real life. 

Audra certainly hoped the answer to that was yes. Maybe his response to today’s letter will be the confirmation. She hinted at the possibility of them meeting up in person not necessarily now, but soon. Of finally finding out who their rainbows in the dark were. 

She shook her head and bit back the hopeful smile that graced her lips at the thought. Pulling out her book and pens, she opened up her notes to the review questions she’d been answering over the week hoping she’d be able to get them finished in the next few hours. 

A few pages into her reading, three questions down and what felt like just ten minutes later she heard some loud shushing and muffled laughs coming from the front of the library. Audra popped her head up from her cubicle and rolled her eyes in annoyance when she was met with a few of the swim team being reprimanded by Mrs. Watts. 

One of the boys stepped forward, running a hand through the still wet honey tinted curls that framed his face and an apologetic smile on his face. 

“I’ll keep them quiet Mrs. Watts I promise, they’re just a little riled up after practice but I’m just gonna look for something real quick.” 

A string of snickers came from his teammates and Audra let out a huff as she closed her book and stuffed her things in her bag to leave. As she made to leave, goldilocks rounded the corner of her aisle and gave her a tight smile. 

“Hey Harrington, isn’t that the quiet chick with the weird name from Women's Studies?” One of the jocks pointed at her with a ring-laden finger and a sick smile. “She’s always whining about campus not being safe and having it out with the prof? You know that class is for idiots and people who need free credit right?” He yelled at her from where he leaned back on one of the tables. 

“Sorry,” he raised a hand bumping his fist awkwardly against the steel shelf. “They don’t know when to shut up,” he looked back at his friends waving his long fingers and black wristwatch at them in a motion that looked like a silent shut up. “There’s not usually anyone back here,” he pointed to the horror section sign that was roughly taped to the shelf. 

Audra sighed, trying not to get too annoyed that her safe space had been invaded by a gaggle of wet idiots but he wasn’t wrong. The casual reads section was small, typically covered in dust, and untouched by the general population of campus.

She looked him over, the tight grey shirt around his chest tugged funny around his biceps like he was purposefully wearing a size too small. “It’s Audrey right?” he flashed her a smile. 

“Audra,” she corrected him. “Listen, I don’t know why you’re in the library but I’m just going to leave. Give you space to do whatever it is you’re all planning on doing in here,” she looked nervously past his shoulder to the guys tossing a textbook back and forth over the head of a flustered-looking brunette. 

“I was just looking for a book,” he said, pulling a shocked laugh from her lips. “What?” His brows furrowed together and he stepped closer, causing her to startle and slip her bag over her shoulder a little quicker. 

“Nothing, it’s funny. I didn’t think any of you could read,” she quipped, tucking her hands into the sweater she wore and making to leave.

“Ouch,” Steve looked at her like her words had an effect on him. 

She walked past him, ignoring his reaction completely. On her way out she brushed his shoulder lightly - more his chest because of how tall he was - and walked out of there as fast as she could until she heard her name being called from across the room.

“Audra!” he called. She turned around, curiosity washing over her. 

“You coming with us to the party tonight?” he smiled and his friends started to burst out into laughter. 

She knew he wasn’t serious about the invite. His friends made that clear. She rolled her eyes and walked out of the building, trying not to think too much about the interaction with “King Steve Harrington”. She couldn’t stand him and his perfect life. He would never know what it’s like to live her life, much less understand it.

Growing up as an only child in the trailer park wasn’t the best kind of childhood someone could have. Her parents were alcoholics who one day had sex without protection. They never wanted a child and they made that clear whenever they had the chance. 

A single tear left Audras cheek as she walked home, thinking about one of the letters she got one day. The first one, to be exact. 

Hey to whoever wrote this, I hope this text reaches you. 

I don’t know if you expected an answer to your letter but well, here we are…or I am, to be exact. I don’t even know how to begin. I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this! 

But I understand! I understand that you feel like you’re alone. I feel like that almost every day no matter how many people surround me. My parents weren’t the best people either. I’ll spare you the details but I want you to know that you’re not alone. 

Sometimes I wish for someone to pull me out of my misery, and I don’t know…maybe one day someone will? Maybe until then, we just have to keep being ourselves, right? 

I don’t know if you’ll ever find this letter but if you do, I hope it dries your tears a little. Maybe we can be each other's shore when we feel like drowning again…

It’s going to be okay.

P.S. I don’t know if I should sign with my name so I’ll just sign it with Batman.

-Batman

For an entire year, she'd been writing back and forth with whoever this Batman was. Exchanging vague secrets, comforting the other. It had been a whole year of not feeling misunderstood. 

She wanted to find out who it was. The anticipation each week of getting another letter was taking her over. Though, deep down Audra was scared of unmasking her mystery man. They didn't know who she was either and though she wasn't horrible to look at, she also wasn't the most popular person at school. 

Audra made her way home, climbing the long stairs up to her door and heading straight to her room. Tossing a 'Hello' to anyone that would listen downstairs and mainly just to give a signal that she was home. When no one answered back, she nodded once and headed up to her room. Tossing her bag onto her bed and falling back into the sheets next to it. Staring up at her ceiling she sighed. 

"Who are you?" 

***

A soft pang of pain rang through his chest at the insult that so easily slipped from her soft pink lips. 

Not that anyone would ever take him seriously but he actually loves reading for pleasure and doesn’t do all that bad with his schoolwork either. 

He’s always understood these stereotypes come with the territory of “being a jock” but it doesn’t mean it gets any better to hear those assumptions and especially coming from her. 

Steve had always seen her hanging out with Robin and Eddie around campus but they’d never really interacted much aside from quick glances or waves as one arrived and the other walked away. Almost like they were working opposite shifts. He wished it wasn’t that way though, she’d always intrigued him. So smart and well-spoken in class - all business, yet so carefree as she laughed heartily in the courtyard with his best friends, her soft brown eyes sparkling under the rays of the afternoon sun. 

His face softened with a smile as he called her back before she was completely out of sight. 

“You coming with us to the party tonight?” he asked, his smile faltering just as quickly as she continued on her way without answering him. 

His face fell as he watched her leave but he shook the feeling off before turning to his teammates dismissing their rowdiness and finding his way to the barely visited casual reads section in hopes of finding a new letter from his bookworm. 

“Yeah Billy,” Steve waved him off, still looking for It. 

He found it as soon as he focused on it, tugging it by the binding from the shelf into his hands. It fell open where the letter was shoved into the shine and he found himself smiling. He looked back at his friends and tucked the book under his arm, wandering toward the window sill that overlooked the campus courtyard. 

He flipped open the folded paper and lifted it to his nose, lavender and rose. He felt awkward smelling the paper but he couldn’t help it, it was like every fiber of her was trapped in the ink. 

Batman,

You wrote about being put on a pedestal by your team, and the pressures of it. I can’t say that I know the feeling, most people tease me for excelling but if I could be there to encourage you I would say something inspirational and kind. 

I would tell you that all of your teammates look up to you, not because you’re tough or athletic but because you inspire them to be better by just being you. I wish you would tell me what team you play for so I could at least be there to cheer you on. 

Is it because you're on the chess team? I won’t tease you, I promise. 

Steve laughed, shaking his head he rubbed the paper between his fingers and chewed on his lip. He could feel the eyes of his friends on him, waiting for him to make the call about the party. 

There is so much more to you than just your athleticism, I see your heart and if others had the chance to see it, they would understand. No matter the outcome this weekend, remember that you are so much more than just a jock. 

I wish we could meet each other, was scratched out on the next line and Steve sighed. Even if he was brave enough to meet her, to tell her who he really was, the second she found out she would most likely hate him. He just wanted to know what color her eyes were when she smiled and how soft her hair was, the smell of her shampoo, and the sound of her laugh. 

“Harrington,” Billy shouted, “this library smells like your mom's underwear drawer! Let’s go get something that smells like daisies and sugar.”

“You’re disgusting,” Steve folded the paper and forced a laugh as he walked back toward the group, his eyes lingering back to the shelf where he left his heart. 

“Whatever, Harrington, you know you want it,” Billy commented, stepping closer to him and grinding his hips forward at Steve. 

Rolling his eyes, Steve placed his hands on his hips and sucked in a deep breath as his eyes kept flickering around the library. “You guys go ready for the party, I’ll be there soon, I just have to find this dumb book for English class.”

“You serious, dude?” Jason frowned, looking confused with the rest of the team. 

“Yeah, I’m serious. Some of us have scholarships to keep, we didn’t just get here because daddy’s the dean,” Steve snipped. 

Small murmurs came from the team as they slowly all left the library, looking confused at their captain. Truth be told, he really did have a book to find for that class, but he still had a week before he had to worry about it. This was more important. Once his teammates were gone, he finally let a soft smile grace his lips, and swiped his hand through his honey colored hair, as he looked at the letter once more. 

Steve looked around the shelves to make sure he was by himself, before making his way back to the desk, grabbing a pen and a spare piece of paper he had tucked in his pocket, just in case. Pulling her letter out, he ran his eyes over the words, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he read and breathing out a small laugh. 

No matter the outcome this weekend, remember that you are so much more than just a jock. 

There was that pang in his chest once more. Someone finally said the words that he’d been longing to hear for a long time. Even if she was just words on a piece of paper right now, she understood him more than anyone else in his life. 

He twirled the pen in his fingers, huffing out a small breath as he thought of what he’d write back. 

Hey Bookworm, 

I still don’t know how you do it but you always manage to put a smile on my face and I appreciate that more than you’ll probably ever come to know. 

Not the chess team no, but I got a good laugh in about that. Never learned, if you know though maybe you could teach me someday. I do look kind of like a wet dog after practices maybe that’ll help you narrow down the search… 

He scribbled a smiley face with a wink next to that last sentence and penned the last of his response. 

Thank you for making me feel comfortable enough to show you who I am, for believing that I’m more than what others see or expect of me. Your words are light shining through what seems like a sea of endless fog. I hope I can always come back to them. 

PS. I wish we could meet too… but I’m a little embarrassed to say that I’m terrified of how that’ll go, of not living up to who I’ve been to you on paper. Maybe I’ll see a new face in the stands soon and I’ll know you found me if I do, I promise I’ll be brave for you. 

Hope to hear back from you soon, 

Batman 

His heart pounded relentlessly in his chest as he folded the paper as neatly as he could to slip it back between the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters, their safe space. He checked his jacket pocket to make sure her letter was safely tucked inside before putting the book back. 

The week after Steve left the last letter he returned to the library, alone this time. Giving Mrs. Watts a polite hello before he scooted past the table of drama kids reading Hamlet and down past the historical fiction textbooks and into the causal reads aisles. 

He ran his hand along the spines of the books until he got to the place that IT normally was but the space was void of the book. Steve sighed, his eyes growing wide as his brows furrowed together. He searched up and down the shelf, “maybe someone put you back wrong…” he mumbled to himself. 

But the longer he searched the more the disappointment sunk in, the book wasn’t there. He checked his watch and sighed, he was going to be late for swim practice if he didn’t leave soon. His chest tightened, hoping nothing had happened to his bookworm in the week that he hadn’t heard from her. 

“I’ll be back,” he tapped the empty space on the shelf with his knuckle and took off in a jog toward the pool. 

“Shit,” he swore as the door to the library swung open and he barrelled into the chest of a small, blonde-haired girl. Her books along with her, scattered across the campus hallway as Steve scrambled to help her up. “Audry?” He pointed at her, remembering her from the weekend before. 

“Aud-ra,” she sighed, her full lips pressed into a tight line.

The scent of lavender filled his nose causing an eruption of butterflies deep in his stomach and Steve felt his mind go fuzzy just for a moment. He’d never been this close to her before, close enough to see the flecks of gold that littered the honey brown of her eyes

Steve winced at the name correction, and cursed himself in his head, “Sorry, I’m sorry, Audra… I -” he breathed out, “I wasn’t looking and I got distracted because I’m late for practice…” 

“It’s fine,” Audra stated plainly, keeping her eyes focused on the floor as she gathered her papers and books.

Crouching down to help her pick up her things, Steve unable to keep his eyes from continually glancing over to her, “You know if you had your stuff in a bag, it would be easier for you to hang on to,” he commented. 

“What?” She frowned, looking over at him. “No - I don’t mean right now, I mean, I bumped into you, that’s why your stuff is everywhere, I’m just saying, if it was in a bag, it wouldn’t have happened,” he rambled, as he handed her the last of her books. 

“So it’s my fault that you don’t look before opening a door?” Audra asked. 

“What? No! No, I didn’t mean…” 

“It’s fine. I’ll take your note into consideration,” she sniped, hugging her books into her chest as she breezed past him, rubbing her shoulder with her free hand. “Don’t you have practice to get to?” 

“Shit, yes I do,” his eyes jutted down the hallway, before turning back to her, “I really am sorry, Audra,” Steve let out a deep breath as he turned and jogged down the hallway. 

After practice Steve stayed in the pool, floating in the center of the deep end as the lights dimmed and everyone disappeared. He couldn’t stop thinking about the lavender, it was consuming his every thought as he let himself slide under the water. He felt at peace there, under the water untouched by the world around him. The water didn’t care, it was unforgiving and dangerous at times. Made him feel alive when his lungs started to burn, the only warning sign that he was testing his luck. 

He broke the surface with a hard gasp, pushing his hair back off his face and leaning back into the water to float. He decided that he would wait another long week, hoping that maybe Bookworm just got busy. 

But as he slipped into the dark library for the third time that third Friday, the book was still missing. He set his bag down and slid into the cubicle by the window with his books hoping that studying might distract him enough as he waited. Maybe she was looking for him? Waiting to return the book in hopes that he was just waiting. 

Every student that rounded the corner his heart skipped a beat but as the sun started to set low in the sky and it had started to rain outside. The drops hit the window gently as he started to lose hope that his Bookworm would ever make an appearance. 

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Watts spoke to someone in the rows over and Steve was just the right amount of bored to eavesdrop. 

“Are you sure you can’t just tell me who had it last? I left my chemistry notes tucked inside by accident and I really-” the voice tried to persuade the librarian. 

“No,” she huffed, “I can’t give you a name, Audra.”

Audra, the girl with soft eyes and hair that smelled like lavender. Steve stood, moving around the shelf to watch the interaction. Audra leaned over the counter, her bookbag hanging on her shoulder. A soft blue cardigan hung loosely from her shoulders, exposing the soft curve of her left shoulder under the thin strap of her black tank top. She shifted uncomfortably in her tight blue jeans and rubbed her calf with the top side of her pristine white converse. 

“I just need to know who took it out,” She begged, sliding across the old counter to follow Ms. Watts as she walked and worked. 

“There are plenty of other Stephen King books to read Audra, you’ve checked that book out almost thirty-three times this semester.” 

A stubborn rock lodged in his throat and he nearly slipped from the position he was standing in as the shock set in. “No,” he mumbled, trying to come up with reasons on the fly why it couldn’t be her. It had to be chance. 

“Lavender,” he ran his hand through his hair and swore under his breath as he walked back to his cubicle nervously. 

Steve flipped open to the back of his binder and pulled out the stack of notes from his bookworm. He swallowed the lump in his throat and ran his fingertips lightly over the paper as her words echoed through his head. 

You know, we’ve probably been in the same room at some point and didn’t even know it

That familiar soft smile graced his lips as every nerve ending in his body ignited. Why was it that she never crossed his mind? He’d gone over so many possibilities in his mind, but it had never dawned on him that she would be the one to actually make him start to feel again. 

There is so much more to you than just your athleticism, I see your heart and if others had the chance to see it, they would understand.

His chest tightened, and he fell back into the small chair that sat at his desk, running his hand into his hair before moving to rub his nose. The one person who was finally able to make him feel like someone knew the real him, was actually someone who was right there. Right beside him this whole time. Steve kept in his mind for the longest time that she would never see him in this light, all she knew of him was that he was a jock and whatever the team made him out to be. But something in his heart felt differently. She did know the real him, now he just had to prove it somehow. 

“Nope, this can’t be...” Steve stood back up and rounded the shelves, just in time to see Audra spin around from the desk, and head to the front door. 

He picked up his pace a little and caught the door as it was about to shut behind her. 

“Audra!” He called, stepping out of the library, still slightly afraid of Mrs. Watts. 

She paused, and turned around, a confused look on her furrowed brows, “Wow, so you can 

remember my name,” Audra commented before turning back around to continue walking. 

Steve winced at her comment. "What Stephen King book were you going to get?" He yelled after her. If she was the person on the other side of the letters, he needed to know. 

"Why do you care Harrington?" Audra whined as she continued walking. 

He jogged to catch up to her, "because I need to know something," he paused, "Was is It?" 

Audra stopped, glaring at him, "again, why do you care if it was?" 

He placed his hands on his hips, dipping his head down before glancing up at her, "because I need it back." 

She scoffed, shaking her head as she continued to walk away from him. "Well you're going to have to wait until it's checked back in like the rest of us commoners." Audra exclaimed down the hallway, emphasizing the last word in a different accent he didn't recognize but knew she was mocking him. 

"The thing is, I can't." He hollered, the words spilling out of his mouth before he even knew what he was doing, "I can't because I need it for something..." it wasn't convincing, but the further she got away from him, the more his heart hammered in his chest. 

"Bookworm!" he yelled, trying anything to get her to stop. A sigh of relief left his lips when she froze. 

Audra slowly spun around, her eyes narrowed in on him, "Where did you hear that?" 

Steve shook his head, "I didn't hear it anywhere...I wrote it... about thirty three times to be exact." He glanced down to the letter still clutched in his hand, "thirty four actually.." he corrected before his eyes met hers again. 

He watched her closely as she tightened her hold on the strap of her bag, nostrils flaring slightly as her breathing picked up. A confused look in her eyes that very likely matched his as she tried to process what he’d just told her. 

He debated closing the distance between them but it felt like his feet were glued to where he stood, his heart hammering in his chest as he waited for her to say something, anything. After what seemed like a lifetime he heard a small “there’s just no way” almost lost completely in the sound of her footsteps as she walked towards him. 

“Did Eddie put you up to this?” 

Steve’s eyes met hers as she stopped in front of him. Sweet brown eyes brimmed with tears of anger? Hurt? Disappointment? That’s it, I’m gonna lose her. 

“What? No I-” 

“Don’t lie to me, Harrington.” she demanded, the slight crack in her voice breaking his heart. “Did Eddie put you up to this? Because there is absolutely no way you know anything about this unless he talked to you.” 

"Stop calling me that," Steve shook his head. "My name is Steve," he closed his eyes over gently and huffed a tight breath of air through his closed lips. 

"Okay, Steve," Audra licked her lips, "can you answer my question now?" 

"He didn't," Steve's head tilted forward, his hair falling in his face. 

"I don't believe you," she shook her head. "One of your swim buddies probably checked out IT by accident. This is just some stupid frat boy crap, tease the book girl because she's different than you," she shrugged, her cardigan slipping from her shoulder down around the dip in her elbow. She brushed away a stray tear with the back of her hand, "damage done, you win."

Audra spun on her heel and kept toward the stairs that led to the courtyard, "shit," Steve chased after her, "letter six," he yelled and she paused at the top of the stairs. "You were upset because you failed your calculus exam," the hot nervous feeling he got when he was feeling brave bloomed across his chest. 

“More information you could have gotten from anyone,” she called back but stayed paused, looking out into the storm that had started, trying to keep her voice steady but Steve heard the small shake in her breaths. He just needed her to turn around and look at him. 

Steve stopped a few paces behind her, not wanting to get too close just yet, trying to think of how to get her to believe him. 

“Letter thirteen…” He took a step toward her, calming his voice, “I told you about the mask I wear around everyone, but with you, I’m me. The real me. When I got the letter back from you, you told me that the people in my life are missing out. That you were happy to know who I am, on the inside…” 

Audra shook her head, and sucked in a deep breath, “I can’t believe I was so stupid…” she mumbled into the air, and started down the front steps of the library and out into the pouring rain. “This was all some big joke to you!” She called behind her. 

“Audra stop! For one second and just talk to me!” Steve started after her again, trying his best not to slip on the stairs as he chased after her. “I’m sorry, okay?! Is that what you want to hear?! I’m sorry this big reveal was so disappointing to you! I’m sorry I’m not who you thought I am!” He caught her arm gently, and spun her around so she faced him, “What do you want from me? What can I do to make you believe me?” He begged. 

She shook her head, refusing to look into his eyes as water droplets ran down her face, “Nothing, Steve! Because even if I did believe you, that means whatever I wrote is probably plastered all over your locker room for everyone to see and laugh at!” 

“I would never do that to you. I would never do that to my bookworm,” He tried to catch her gaze, but her eyes stayed firmly on the ground. 

“Don’t. Don’t call me that,” She sniffled, wringing her fingers together. 

“I still don’t believe you,” she repeated, her eyes locked on the ground. 

“And now what? You want this whole thing to end? Just act like it never happened?” Steve’s eyes were filled with pain.

“I can’t do that, Audra. I don’t want to do it. You are the only one in my life I can turn to. You are my safe space, Audra. And I don’t want this to end. I don’t care what Billy or Jason thinks because they are not my friends. They don’t know me. But you do.”

Audra’s tears were running down her cheek but she kept silent.

“Please don’t do this to me…I need you,” Steve’s voice was breaking at the end of the sentence.

“I don’t want this to end…” she shook her head lightly, “…but-“

“Letter 22. Love is a strange thing. Sometimes we love something but we don’t even know it. Sometimes it’s consuming us and we just don’t realize until it’s too late. You told me that I’m loved even though I don’t think that someone could ever love me. You told me that someday, someone out there will see me and love me-” he ran a hand roughly through his wet hair. 

“Steve…” she whispered and finally looked up at him.

“And if no one does, you said I still got you 'cause you’ll stay. You’ll stay with me.” He brushed a strand of her wet hair behind her ear, resting his palm on her cheek. 

“But if you changed your mind, just tell me to leave and I’ll do it.” Steve and Audra came to a deadlock, staring at each other waiting for either to break. “Because I’ll do anything for you,” his bottom lip trembled, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. 

“I can’t.” she breathed, the whisper almost lost in the pattering rain drops that surrounded them, “W- we just can’t do this.” 

He swallowed thickly, thumb brushing lightly against her cheek as he tried to ground himself before answering. 

“Yes we can, Audra.” 

“No.” Audra moved her face away from his grasp as she shook her head no, “We can’t Steve. We’re too different.” 

“Who cares, Audra?” 

“EVERYBODY DOES,” she said lifting her hands to the air. “They’re just going to talk.” 

Steve let out an exasperated huff as he cupped her face softly, begging her to meet his tear-filled eyes. “So let them talk. I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care about them or what they think. I just care about you. I just want you. Please.” 

“You don’t understand,” she stuttered, “you popped the bubble.”

“I-,” he let out a shaky breath, his brows knitting together tightly as his lips formed a sharp line. 

“Do you think they’ll just let this go? See the jock and bookworm and think, oh how sweet?” Audra laced her fingers into his against the side of her face, lips quivering from the chill that formed over them in the rain. “You’re untouchable,” she whispered, “you can shrug this off as some game, a dare, a risk too funny not to take. Steve Harrington, doting on the loner, how quaint. And you say it doesn’t matter but when you leave, when you get bored of this little fantasy world that you created, I will be alone. Again. I will be taunted, teased, and ridiculed. It doesn’t matter what we wrote in those letters,” she bit her lip, looking down at the wet paper clutched in his other hand. “It’s just paper,” she shrugged, “it’s fragile and when exposed to the harsh elements of the real world, it doesn’t stand a chance.” 

“You’re breaking my heart,” he rubbed his thumb over her flushed cheek and pressed his wet forehead to hers. A long moment passed before he spoke again, one more shot, “Letter twenty-nine,” he exhaled, rain pelting down against them, “Dear Batman,” he recited. “Today I believe in love.”

Audra’s other hand came up between them, tangling into the collar of his shirt roughly as he spoke, “I’ve been trying for weeks to find something that reminds me of the color of your eyes from just the description you gave me. Brown, with small swirls of green and the slightest hint of amber in the sun. For weeks I’ve been staring into strangers' eyes like some sort of weirdo, just hoping to stumble upon that perfect combination without luck.” Steve spoke so softly that the rain overpowered everything he said. 

“Steve Harrington,” Adura closed her eyes, “came into the library today, and for a second I thought maybe it was you. There was a moment as he passed me, chlorine wafting from his hair and sun catching his eyes, I could have sworn I saw it. The small swirls of green, the slightest hint of amber reflecting back at me and I thought,” she sighed, unable to finish the rest. 

“How could anyone like Steve Harrington, ever love me?” He nudged her nose with his and forced her to look at him. “Like this,” he whispered, his lips hovering over hers.

“Steve, I - I can’t…” She whispered, shaking her head and brushing the tips of their noses together some more. 

The rain poured around them, and the sounds of other students running from building to building, splashing about as they moved, faded away like it was nothing. Steve felt her soft skin against his, needing to savor as much of his moment as possible. If she did make the choice to walk away, this was what he was going to hold on to for dear life. This moment, just standing there with her. 

Giving her hand a small squeeze, Steve shush her gently, “Bookworm please… please, don’t give up on this,” He pleaded, moving his lips against her once more into a soft kiss. 

Audra sucked in a shaky breath, as their lips moved together. A sob escaped her throat, as she grasped the collar of Steve’s shirt, and pressed her lips hard against his. Every nerve in his body ignited, and every worry, every thought melted away with the rain. Their lips danced together like two perfect partners, with all the emotions that both of them were feeling behind it. 

Pulling back to catch their breath, Audra peered up at him with her deep brown eyes, sadness and worry filling them as she traced his face. 

Steve shook his head, and kissed her again, his hands moving down to grip her waist and pull her flush with his body, needing to feel every inch of her against him. 

She pulled back again, and bit the inside of her cheek, “Steve, I - …” 

“No. Audra, please,” He whined, pressing his lips to hers again. And again. “You’re not alone,” another kiss, “you’re never alone,” he whispered, “I’m right here. Stay with me…”

“Audra please stay with me, please…please…”

Steve jumped in his seat as he heard thunder cracking. It was already dark outside and besides Mrs. Watts, everybody was already gone. He looked to the shelf, seeing that the book was still missing. 

With a sigh he left the library, walking home alone in the rain and thinking about the girl that didn’t leave his mind. His heartbeat picked up, thinking that she could be his bookworm, and if she was, he wouldn’t want to relive the dream once more. This time, he had to do it right. 

As he got home, he sat down at the kitchen table, a lamp dangling from the ceiling, lightning up his piece of paper in a light warm orange. Without thinking twice, he started to write until his wrist hurt. 

The next day Steve stayed a little longer after swim practice. He needed to clear his mind and think about how to tell Audra. If it wasn’t her, and he would still open his heart up to her, he knew how it would turn out. But this turn out would still be better than not trying at all. 

As he came out of the water and grabbed a towel from one of the benches, he saw blonde hair out of the corner of his eyes. Turning to his right, he was met with Audras beautiful eyes. His heart stopped for a second as he just kept staring at her. 

He could have sworn the corner of her lip curled as she watched him through the glass doors. Steve made a move, stepping toward the door as he dried the ends of his hair but before he could get to her she was swept away by the crowd.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the dream, doing everything in his power to keep distracted. Swim, study, parties, swim, study… Audra. “Shit,” he huffed and chucked the towel as hard as he could at the bleacher. 

“Harrington?” Eddie Munson stepped out of the locker room, hair tucked into a low bun around his neck. He adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder and scuffed his heavy black boots along the pool deck. 

“I didn’t even know you knew where the locker room was,” Steve rolled his eyes, walking over to his duffle bag and Eddie closed the space. 

“Wrestling,” Eddie said laughing at Steve’s shocked facial expression. “I’m on the wrestling team,” he shook his head when he realized the explanation didn’t matter. He dropped the bag on the bleachers, unzipped it and dug inside. 

“Here,” he palmed the binding of a thick, rough-looking copy of IT with his metal-laden fingers. His eyebrow cocked at Steve waiting for him to take it. 

Steve looked at it warily, eyes casting down and up. 

“It’s not going to bite,” Eddie laughed. 

“You might,” Steve quipped with a cocky smile, “I’ve heard the rumors, Munson.” 

“Take it, Harrington,” he dropped his voice and stepped closer to him until they were mere inches apart. “She’s my best friend,” he said, “she may doubt my attention to detail, much like the rest of this campus but the best part of being practically invisible is I see everything.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve shook his head, wet hair sticking to his neck as he pushed his tongue against the inside of his mouth. His hand rested on his hip, as he considered the situation presented to him. 

“Come on man,” Eddie scoffed, “Audra has checked out this damn book for a year straight. Just watching her fawn over those letters made this cynical heart believe in love. I thought maybe…” he laughed, “maybe if I took it you two would just be forced to figure it out but you’re both more stubborn than I give you credit for.” 

“What do you want me to do about it?” Steve shrugged, “once she finds out it’s over.” 

The fear had a choke hold on him and even when presented with a solution he wasn’t sure he had the courage to follow through on it. 

“Do something,” Eddie set the book on the bleacher beside Steve’s belongings. “Every second you wait her heart breaks a little more thinking you don’t exist.” 

“She doesn’t want the version of me that exists,” Steve called after him but Munson just kept walking until he reached the glass doors. 

Leaning against it with his back he smiled at Steve, “have you asked her what she wants, Batman…” 

Before Steve could argue Eddie was gone and he was back to square one with his cowardly heart.

He stood there, looking down at the book, considering his options. Was breaking their little bubble worth it if it made her hate him? Would she still mean everything she had said to him once she knew who he was? Steve’s entire heart ached at the thought of losing her completely, but flashes of the kiss they shared and the explosion of butterflies took over as he grabbed the book off the bench. This time he was going to do it differently. 

When he got home that night, he stared at the end of his final letter. 

Your batman, 

Steve 

It was the first time he’d written his real name at the end of these letters, and the nerves tried to take over his body once more, but he shook them off. Folding it up, he placed it in the cover of the book, a soft smile finding a place on his lips as he went to bed, determined to find her right where they were meant to meet the next day. 

Steve sucked in a deep breath as he jogged across the quad to the library, furiously checking his watch as he ran. 2 pm. She was always at the library between her classes, and she would be leaving soon if he didn’t hurry. 

Right on cue, a familiar bob of blonde waves exited the library doors, as he jogged up the steps, coming to a halt in front of her. 

“Audra,” he breathed, standing up straight and extending the copy of IT out to her, biting the inside of his cheek. “Bookworm…” 

Audra’s brows furrowed in confusion as her eyes jutted between Steve and the novel, “Wha- what?” 

He cleared his throat, and retrieved the letter from the inside, unfolding it, and nervously swiping his tongue along his bottom lip. 

“Dear Bookworm…” He read aloud, not giving her much of a chance to say anything.

“I have a confession to make. This letter, my thirty-fourth letter to you, will be the last. Not because I don’t want to write to you anymore, but because I want more. This past year, I opened myself up to you more than I ever have to anyone and it has been the greatest decision I ever made. Answering your note a year ago, was the best decision I ever made. 

You are one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met, and I can’t stand not being able to tell you all of these things in person, so please bear with me as I try my best to get this out. 

Audra, you are not alone here. I promise to stay by your side as long as you’ll let me and stay the person you’ve gotten to know over the last year. No one else matters at this moment except you and me. 

If you’re up for this, I need you to know that I’m all in. I’m right here. 

Take this leap with me. 

Find me after my swim meet tonight. 

If I don’t see you, I’ll have my answer. But I really hope you're there. 

Your batman, 

Steve.” 

A soft smile appeared on Steve’s lips as he looked up from the letter, and handed it out to Audra, grazing her soft fingers as she accepted it, still looking confused and slightly in shock. 

He nodded once, and then turned on his heel to head back down the library steps, and get ready for the swim meet. He raced through the halls, knocking over more than one person as he sped to the pool. He ignored the jabs from all the guys and pulled into his trunks. 

Back on schedule, he was selfish and took his time rinsing off in the showers, pushing back his hair and drowning out the sounds of the crowd roaring just beyond the locker room doors. Every time he shut his eyes he could see her, her pretty blonde hair, her warm brown eyes, and the way her lip curved to the left slightly when she was trying not to smile. He had spent months looking for her, chasing around a dream written in letters that he never thought he would get to hold.

He just had to hope she felt the same.

“You gonna break a record today?” Jason leaned against the tiled pillar beside him, hair wet and face plastered with a cocky grin. 

“Keep your head in the water and focus on your time,” Steve shook his head, almost mad that he had interrupted his daydream, “this isn’t about breaking records, it’s about getting to state.” 

“You’re a buzzkill man,” Jason scoffed, “you at least gonna come to the party after?” 

Steve followed him out of the locker room and onto the deck, answering him without looking up from his feet. Terrified of the chance that she wasn’t here, “yeah maybe, pass me that,” he pointed to a clipboard as they skimmed by the benches. 

Jason tossed it through the air for him and Steve caught it without thinking, “Hargrove,” he hollered back to Billy who was leaning against the wall between two happy-looking girls. “Quit messing around and get in the water for warm-ups,” he ordered. 

Billy rolled his eyes and winked at the pretty brunette before making his way toward the deep end. The other school had already started warming up. Steve sighed, with the pressure to win tonight’s meet and the nerves over whether or not Audra would show he was a mess.

Steve kept his eye trained on the clipboard, terrified of the chance that she was here.

They had to beat at least three different times tonight if they were going to win this meet. He tossed the clipboard to the deck, nodding to Coach near the bench. “You got this kid,” he gave him a curt nod. 

Steve counted his strokes under his breath, timing his count to steady his racing heart as he slipped into the pool and dunked himself below the surface. She’ll be here. He thought to himself, praying to whoever was listening to just give him this win. He wished he could apply the same confidence he had in his athletic ability to the rest of his life. He ignored the burning in his chest, vying his time before they blew the final warning whistle. 

No matter the outcome this weekend, remember that you are so much more than just a jock.

Ok, Audra, he thought to himself, Not just a jock, not just a bookworm. He kicked to the surface, breaking through as the warning whistle sounded. Not just paper, not just a book, not just a chance. He climbed out of the pool, convincing himself that if he looked now it would jinx him somehow.

 “Gentleman, on your mark,” the starter called to them. 

Steve shook his hands and shoulders, stretching his neck from side to side as he tried his best to tune out the roars of the crowd. If it wasn’t coming from her, none of that mattered. Hoops and hollers of other people singing his praises echoed through his ears and while he appreciated it, it wasn’t Audra. 

Letting out a calming breath, he took his mark, closing his eyes to try to focus and turn his attention away from the crowd. 

“Get set!” the starter hollered again. 

Another deep breath, but this time Steve allowed himself to open his eyes and look into the water. That’s the only place he was going to look. The crowd around him calmed and sat back in their seats with baited breaths as the race was seconds away from starting. 

Just one glance, he thought to himself. 

His amber eyes flickered to the crowd, just for a second but he saw it. 

“Go!” 

Around him a mash of water splashed as the other swimmers lept into the pool, but he stayed. Frozen on his block as his head whipped around and stared into the familiar sparkle of those brown eyes. 

There she stood. A soft smile painted on her perfectly plump pink lips, as she nodded once at him, and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. 

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat as he returned the smile. Suddenly the swim meet didn’t matter anymore. State didn’t matter anymore. He was more than just a jock. He was her Batman. 

[eskawrites]

listen i know it’s october, but we got the first snow of the season today, and i got to bust out my winter instrumental playlist while i write christmas scenes for the celebrity fake dating au, and it’s all very sweet and serendipitous so have a lil excerpt if you like

-

Thursday finds them bundled in sweaters and coats, strolling down the sidewalk in front of a glittering row of department stores. Snow is falling lightly, lingering on the curls that stick out from beneath Nancy’s knit hat. She’s laughing at some story Steve is telling, the sound clear and bright and perfectly in place with the silver bells and glowing lights that infuse the city with a sense of magic.

They spend the evening drifting in and out of stores at their leisure. Steve picks up a broach for his mom and a nice pair of cufflinks for his dad. Robin finds a book she thinks Will will like and double checks with Nancy that he doesn’t already have it. Nancy finds an adorable handmade serving plate with a snowy forest scene painted on it and buys it for her mother, even though Robin knows for a fact Karen Wheeler has a formidable pile of gifts waiting for her in Nancy’s apartment.

“What about Mike?” Robin asks.

Nancy waves her hand. “He’s the easy one. El and I teamed up and got everything we need to turn his office into a recording studio. Then I just got him a couple books and that new Super Nintendo game with the monkeys.”

“Dustin is the same way,” says Steve. “I’ve had his stuff planned for months. Found a really nice model of the Millennium Falcon, and I managed to get an advance copy of that X-Men comic he’s been talking about. And then I bribed Mike and Lucas to take me to that one nerd shop they all love so I could get a custom mini of his D&D character.”

Nancy looks at Robin. “How is he so good at presents?”

Robin shrugs. “Beats me. I’m still struggling with what to get Max. My first idea was a new skateboard, since hers got lost somewhere when her mom moved this year, but freaking Lucas beat me to it.”

“At least you didn’t both get her a skateboard.”

She snorts. “No. Get this. This jerk makes a point of coming up to me and telling me he already bought Max one because, and I quote, ‘You’re the only other one who would think of it and I wanted to make sure I got there first.’”

“Oh my god.”

“I know!” Robin sighs. “I can’t hold it against him, though. He got it custom-made and inscribed some sentimental nonsense on the bottom. Max is going to love it—after she pretends to hate it, of course.”

Nancy smiles. “They’re good for each other, aren’t they?”

“They really are.” Robin looks over at her. “So, what about you? Do you have any ideas for Holly yet?”

Nancy shrugs. “Well, I snooped around her art stuff while I was there for Thanksgiving. She’s been getting into paints a lot, so I got her an easel and a nice set of brushes.”

“See? You know exactly what she wants. Why do you think you’re bad at this?”

“I don’t know.” Nancy shakes her head. “It’s just, they’re all going to be here for a full week, and I know it’s going to be hectic, and I just want her to have a good time.”

“She’s spending Christmas in New York City at her cool older sister’s place,” Robin points out. “How is that not fun?”

“She’s got a point, Nance,” says Steve.

“I came along for help, not for you two to team up on me.”

Robin laughs. “Okay, how about this. You clearly have a handle on gifts already, so why not get her an experience? Take her out one day, just the two of you. Is there anything you think she’d want to do that your parents won’t mind missing?”

Nancy thinks about it. “She did ask about going to see The Nutcracker, but my dad vetoed it. I’d love to take her ice skating, too. Oh, and she’d love going on a carriage ride.”

Robin nudges her. “See? You’ve totally got this.”

“You’re right. She’ll love it. Mike can handle Mom and Dad for the day. And I’ll ask Mom to pack her skates, too, as a surprise.” Nancy smiles up at her. “Robin, this is perfect.”

“Hey, this is all you. I barely said anything.”

“I’ll take credit if she won’t,” Steve says.

Nancy laughs and loops her arm through Robin’s. She leans into Robin’s side to look over at Steve. “Thank you, Steve.”

“You’re very welcome, Nancy.”

“You two are adorable,” Robin says, rolling her eyes. “Now come on, let’s find somewhere to get hot chocolate. I’m freezing.”

It’s a lie, of course. Nancy laughs again, pressing tighter against her side, and Steve chuckles and steps closer to wrap an arm around her shoulders, and Robin doesn’t feel the cold at all.

[jimkirkpining]

It begins when Louis asks Claudia that one fateful question.

-

Or, perhaps it begins before that. Perhaps it begins on the day Lestat shoves the last of his boxes into his stupid flashy sports car and peels out of the driveway. Perhaps it begins even before that, when the arguments start getting vicious and nasty, hissed under their breaths so Claudia can't hear. Perhaps it begins in the hospital on the day that tiny wriggling bundle is put into Lestat's arms for the first time and all three of them are bawling. Perhaps it begins seven months before, when Lestat staggers out of the bathroom, ashen-faced and shaking and terrified, clutching that little plastic stick.

Or perhaps it was inevitable from the very start, and really it all begins when their eyes meet across a crowded dorm corridor and Lestat pushes through the throng of drunk strangers to tug on Louis' cloak and waggle his eyebrows and try and deliver a Dracula quote through a pair of terrible dollar-store fangs.

-

At any rate, the moment Louis can really pinpoint the start of it all at the end of October when he asks Claudia what she wants to do for Christmas. 

It's perhaps a little early to start planning, but for the last five years he and Lestat have alternated between who takes Claudia for her birthday and who takes her for christmas, and as Claudia's birthday is at the end of November, if he does need to organise another nightmare of a princess party, he'd rather start doing it in advance. Also, Claudia will be seven this year, and last week Marie forwarded him an article about the importance of agency in choice for young girls - honestly, his brain had switched off after the fourth parenting buzzword in as many sentences, but he did remember that choices were very important - so he wants to give her options.

Claudia kicks her heels against the legs of the stool and chews thoughtfully on the end of her marker; there's a big smudge of red ink over her bottom lip and down her chin from where she'd put the wrong end in her mouth.

"I will have to think about it," she says, with all the solemnity a nearly-seven-year-old can muster, and then she goes back to drawing and watching Frozen for the tenth time that week, and for the moment, that is that.

It takes a while for her to get back to him. He’d half wondered if she’d forgotten, but to his surprise, two days later, halfway through dinner, she shovels a forkful of waffles into her mouth and says, “I know what I want to do for Christmas.”

Actually, it comes out sounding more like “ah-dohwha-ah-wantah-dofah-chrimah”, and he interrupts her on autopilot without even thinking, “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

She scowls but complies, chewing industriously then swallowing. She announces, “Daddy, I know what I want to do for christmas.”

“Hmm?”

Claudia nods, “I want to go to Gab-Gab’s cabin with you and Papa.”

Louis’ heart sinks.

Claudia had only been two years old when the split happened. For the most part, Louis is very glad of this; she has no memory of the awful, angry, bitter days of her early life, no memory of the stifling tension, the misery, the tears and accusations. She only knows of the cool polite distance between her fathers. She only knows them as two men who interact as little as possible twice a week when they drop her off and pick her up, working together to raise her completely separately. She’d asked him, once, why he and Lestat don’t live together like the parents of her friends do, and he’d been able to satisfy her with the response that, well, for some parents it’s just easier that way. Which is the truth, even if he knows it’s somewhat a cop-out.

She has no reason to believe that her request is anything other than a great idea, and Louis’ heart breaks at the thought of having to disappoint her.

He takes a bite of his own dinner to stall, desperately trying to find a compromise situation to give her almost what she wants, but get him out of having to spend the whole festive season - the most stressful time of the year - with Lestat - the most stressful person he knows.

Claudia watches him owlishly, blue-green eyes big and hopeful. He sighs.

“I’ll have to talk to Gabs about it,” he says, trying to stay firm even as her face lights up, “it’s her cabin, so it’s up to her.”

“Can we call her tonight?” Claudia asks eagerly, bouncing in her chair. Louis holds up a hand.

“I’ll call her later,” he points at her plate. “You finish your dinner.”

As Louis watches Claudia work through the rest of her food, practically glowing with excitement, his heart aches in his chest. 

He's not delusional; he knows that he and Lestat breaking up was the best choice for a bad situation, and that staying together would have only made everything worse. He knows that Claudia is happy and well-adjusted. He can't help but wish, though, that things could have been different - that maybe they could have tried harder to save things, been more flexible, or more understanding. He wishes Claudia didn't have to split her week between them, dividing her time between two different households and what must seem like two different lives to such a young child. 

Despite all of this, however, when he calls Gabs later in the evening once Claudia is in bed, he finds himself guiltily hoping - and he does genuinely feel bad about it - that there will be some completely unavoidable circumstance that isn’t anyone’s fault at all that will mean they can’t possibly go up to the cabin. Though… well, he knows Gabs. Life may have turned her into a prickly, intimidating, closed-off person with a glare like being hit in the face with a brick, but she is utterly devoted to her granddaughter. If getting Claudia to the cabin for Christmas meant moving a mountain, Gabs would just pick up a shovel and start digging. 

Most of the time, it’s endearing. Now? Less so. 

Louis settles himself into the corner of the couch with a sigh and hits the dial button. There's every chance that she might not even pick up; Gabs is decidedly not a fan of technology, or even the indoors. Lestat once affectionately compared her to Ron Swanson. 

The phone rings for a few seconds, and then the call is answered. Oh well, Louis thinks, disappointed.

"Bonsoir, Louis. Ça va?"

"Ça va bien, thanks, and yourself?"

"Not bad," Gabs pauses. Louis can hear rustling, and wind, like she's walking outside. "Is there something you need?"

Louis can't help but smile. Gabs is one person he never has to bother with smalltalk around, and he does genuinely appreciate that about her. And despite her brusqueness, there's something comforting about hearing her voice - Lestat had worked hard to ditch his french accent when his career picked up, but she still has hers, and in a weird way it reminds him of his father. Gabs’ voice sounds like family.

"I was just wondering about your plans for Christmas."

Gabs hums, rumbling through the receiver. "Can't say I have any at the moment. Why?"

"Claudia asked if we could go to the cabin."

There's a pause, "I see. And who is 'we'?"

She knows! Of course she knows. Gabs is basically a mind-reader. Louis cringes.

"Her, myself, yourself…" he squeezes his eyes shut, "and Lestat."

There's another pause. And then she snorts.

“Well. Were you hoping I’d have some great excuse as to why it can't work?” She drawls.

Louis grimaces, “Of course not.”

“You’re a terrible liar. And unfortunately for you, I’ve got no excuses to offer. It would be lovely to have you all over for Christmas… provided that you and Lestat can behave."

“We're adults,” Louis says, vaguely affronted. She has a point, but still - that point is for him to agonise over endlessly in his own head, not for her to use against him! 

Gabrielle snorts again, “Oh, and you weren't adults three years ago when you two got into it at Claudia's birthday party?”

Louis’ mouth drops open in indignation, even as second-hand embarrassment over the memory makes his cheeks flush. “Look-” he says, flustered, “look-”

“I'm not accusing you of anything, Louis,” Gabs jumps in quickly, voice no longer teasing but weary now, “I just don't want it to be fucking miserable, okay? For Claudia’s sake.”

And as always, Gabs has cut right to the root of the issue. Louis swallows, running a hand down his face, leaning his head back on the sofa and sullenly studying the ceiling. 

“I know. I just… I want her to be happy,” he says.

Gabs sighs, “I know. We all do,” There’s a pause, and Louis can hear the crunch of her boots as she walks through dead leaves. “Talk to Lestat, see what he thinks.”

“That was my next plan, yes.”

He doesn’t admit how reluctant he is to do it, but then again, he probably doesn’t have to.

“He might surprise you,” Gabs says quietly, after a moment.

"That's exactly what I'm worried about," Louis grumbles.

-

It takes a whole day to work up the energy to call Lestat, and even then, he only forces himself to because Lestat will be picking Claudia up from school this afternoon and he has a lurking suspicion that if Claudia mentions it first Lestat might - god forbid - make an impulse decision that Louis will be stuck with the consequences of. 

He texts and messages Lestat with relative regularity these days, because co-parenting separately takes quite a bit of organisation. If anyone were to ask him, he would admit that he's rather proud of how they work as two independent halves of one team; Claudia is fed, clothed, supervised, transported, parented, and loved as much as any other child, and has grown into a smart, responsible, genuinely delightful girl, if perhaps a little precocious. 

From a purely practical perspective, they work brilliantly together - just so long as their relationship doesn’t get personal. Personal is when the problems start again.

He waits until Claudia is at school to make the call, because he’s honestly not sure how well it’s likely to go; he sits in his desk chair in his little home office, feet kicked up, and distractedly scrolling through his work emails, as he holds his phone to his ear and waits for Lestat to pick up.

“Oh, hey,” Lestat says, sounding surprised. “Everything alright?”

It’s fair for Lestat to be a little concerned, Louis supposes. The last time Louis called him out of the blue in the middle of the day was last year, when Claudia had been sent to the principal’s office for biting another kid, and Louis hadn’t been able to come and pick her up. 

If he remembers rightly, Lestat took her out for ice cream.

“Oh, yes, sorry, it’s fine, I just, uh-” Louis grimaces at his reflection in his laptop screen and runs a hand through his hair, “I just thought we should sort out what we’re doing for christmas.”

Lestat groans, “Is it that time of year again already? God. Okay, well… you had Claudia with you last christmas, so I’ll take her this year, and drop her back off on the 30th?”

“She said she wanted to go to the cabin.”

“Ah, that’s a good idea, I’ll talk to Gabs and-”

“No.” Louis pinches the bridge of his nose, “She wants us all to go to the cabin.”

Lestat is silent for several moments. Louis sips at that morning’s coffee; it's tepid now, but he's so full of tense energy he needs something to do.

“We can make that work,” Lestat says. 

Louis blinks, nearly dropping his mug, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Lestat’s tone is determined, almost defensive. “Yeah, if it’s what Claudia wants then let’s do it."

Louis sets the mug down and covers his face with his hand, "Lestat, have you actually thought about what this will entail? The cabin is nearly a two day drive - there and back - so we'll have to stay at least four days to make the journey worth it. That's eight days, minimum."

"What are you saying?" Lestat snaps.

They're not even in the same room and it's already turning into an argument, Louis thinks, clenching his jaw. There's no way they can survive over a week without making things 'fucking miserable'.

"I'm saying," Louis tries to make his voice as soothing and non-confrontational as possible - the voice he uses when a client starts freaking out on him, "that you and I do not exactly have the best track record when we're together."

Lestat does actually stop and consider that, rather than just flying into a defensive rage, which is honestly more than Louis was expecting.

"If this is Claudia's christmas wish," Lestat says, voice quiet but certain, "then I'm going to make it work."

Claudia's christmas wish. Louis rolls his eyes. He's as sentimental as the next gay man, but he also knows that their daughter is six - last year's 'christmas wish' had been to go to Disneyworld to meet Queen Elsa, and/or to adopt four puppies, neither of which had happened, and both of which she'd utterly forgotten by christmas day in all the excitement.

But… if Lestat has said yes, and Gabs has said yes, that means that if he says no for no other reason than ‘I really really really don't want to’, it makes him the bad guy of the situation. He tries to imagine breaking it to her, watching her little face fall in disappointment, knowing that it’s entirely because of him.

Fuck.

Louis closes his eyes. He tries to exhale the tension out and just accept his fate.

“Alright then. Let’s… let’s make it work.”

He hears a sharp little gasp over the phone. It sounds like excitement. Despite himself - despite everything - it makes Louis smile.

“I’ll handle the travel arrangements,” Lestat says quickly, “I know a good route that’ll give us plenty of places to stop along the way, and there’s an amazing hotel that’s just a perfect distance to hit at the end of the first day!”

The smile drops. The thought of Lestat taking any major part in the planning makes anxiety immediately shoot through Louis, the tension flooding back in. 

Look, he has a therapist, he knows that his need to control situations stems from a deep-rooted fear of failure stemming from bad parenting, and he knows that Lestat’s need for control is to mask his eternal terror over being abandoned, also due to bad parenting. It’s always been a source of discord between them. He knows that. But there’s a big difference between knowing it and knowing how to deal with it. His therapist has suggested that he try allowing Lestat to take over little tasks, to practise; letting Lestat pick the time that he’ll drop Claudia off, letting him take the lead in discussions about her birthday presents, that sort of thing.

This isn’t a little thing, though. Louis tightens his grip around the phone, staring at his reflection in his laptop screen. He doesn’t want to give in. He’s already conceded a lot in the conversation by agreeing to do this in the first place. He doesn’t want to let go of the planning too.

“Lestat-” he says, and Lestat must hear something in his tone, because he immediately jumps in.

“Trust me.”

Louis closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. He tries to think about what exactly he trusts Lestat with.

Claudia’s safety, he trusts Lestat with that; despite his thrill-seeking lifestyle during their college days, Lestat has never taken unreasonable risks with their daughter’s safety and wellbeing - that Louis knows of, at least. He trusts that Lestat would never willingly put her in danger. There's no way he'd allow Lestat to have custody of her for half the week if he didn't trust that Lestat would keep her safe and well.

Claudia’s happiness, that’s another thing he trusts Lestat with; again, there's no way Louis would let her out of his sight if he didn't genuinely trust Lestat with this. When she was a toddler and her face would crease in that tell-tale way, bottom lip beginning to quiver, Lestat seemed to have a sixth sense for knowing exactly how to swoop in and cheer her up, and nothing about what Claudia has told him about her time at Papa's house indicates that that has changed.

Louis trusts Lestat with the car; Lestat has always had a weird macho thing about cars, has always been meticulous about keeping any he owns in perfect condition. Louis isn't particularly impressed by the obnoxious sporty beast Lestat drives nowadays, but he does at least trust that Lestat will ensure it can get them to the cabin.

And ultimately, Louis thinks, reluctantly, he can trust Lestat with this journey; Lestat bought Gabs the cabin nearly fifteen years ago, at the peak of his teenage pop-idol fame, so he knows the roads around it and the route up very, very well. The drive will be simple, and Lestat will know the best places to stop if Claudia needs a break, and whatever this hotel is that Lestat has mentioned will be hideously overpriced and needlessly ostentatious, but if he's honest, Louis would rather that than a sleazy shitty motel on the roadside, anyday.

Realistically, letting Lestat be in charge of the journey will be… well, probably fine?

And that’s the worst part; knowing that if something goes wrong - and historically, when Lestat tries to plan things, they do - it won’t be for lack of trying. It won’t be for lack of wanting, or lack of heart. It’ll be because of some tiny but vital detail that got missed, that Louis knows he would have caught if he’d been allowed to plan it, and Louis will have to look between Claudia’s devastation and Lestat’s mortification and guilt, and he’ll have to find some way to fix everything. As usual.

Trust me.

Louis doesn’t want to trust him. But he does know, begrudgingly, that this trip is going to take a lot of compromise, and that Lestat will likely be less hideously insufferable if he feels like he has something that he gets to be in charge of.

“Fine,” Louis says, before he can second-guess himself and drive this conversation back towards a fight. “But this is Claudia’s christmas wish-” god, he cannot believe he is using that as leverage, “so you know-”

“Everything has to be perfect,” Lestat cuts in, “I know. I’ll make sure of it.”

Famous last words, Louis thinks, glumly, as he hangs up.

-

Marie comes over for dinner every friday. The official reason is to make sure she gets to spend regular time with Claudia, but Louis knows it’s at least partly to do free washing and get away from her housemates. She may be an adult now, and she may have started her postgrad, but she’s still a student, and she’s still his baby sister. 

She collects Claudia from school and brings her home, and the two of them are engrossed in something on Marie’s Switch when Louis gets back from a meeting and starts on dinner. Later, after Claudia’s gone to bed, he and Marie settle down on the couch. She swings her legs up and drops her feet into his lap, and after several rounds of him shoving them away and her kicking him in the stomach, she wins, though he uses her legs as a coffee table in retaliation.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says, without preamble. 

Louis immediately responds, “Don’t hurt yourself.” She kicks him again, he wordlessly threatens to empty his bottle of drink over her head, she sticks her tongue out - and then the conversation continues.

“I’ve been thinking that you should start a blog.”

Louis wrinkles his nose, “You mean be a - what do they call them - a Mummyblogger?” He grimaces, “Daddyblogger? Oh god, that’s worse.”

“No,” Marie snorts, “I mean… You could if you wanted to, I guess, but I’m talking about book reviews.”

“Book reviews?”

“Yeah,” Marie pulls her feet away and sits up properly, animated in her excitement, “You read so much, and the other day when you recommended that book to me you wrote such a nice, pithy little summary, it got me thinking - you should start a book review blog! You’d be really good at it! And it might help scratch that writing itch.”

Louis sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Mimi, you know I haven’t written in years… with Claudia and my job I just don’t have time.”

“But Claudia’s started school, and you only have her half the week,” Marie protests, “And it’s not like you have a social life now you’ve broken up with Armand and you don’t have to hang out with his weird theatre crowd anymore.”

“Hey,” Louis points a finger at her, “First of all, ouch, I do have a social life, thank you. And second of all, we broke up, but that was over a year ago and we’re still friends, so you don’t get to be mean about Armand.”

“Armand was an asshole and the theatre crowd were super weird. It’s not mean if it’s a fact.”

Louis shakes his head, exasperated, but knowing he won’t be able to change her mind, “I actually heard from him the other day - can you believe that he’s dating one of my exes?”

“Which one?” Marie asks, slouching back against the armrest again and pushing her feet back into Louis’ lap, “You’ve dated, like, four guys, and one of them was Armand.”

“Well… I’m not sure if he really counts as an ex, we only went on one date,” Louis grimaces, “It was terrible, I talked about myself the whole time, it was more like an interview than a date. Anyway, at the end of it he still asked for my number, and I, uh,” Louis cringes further, “I accidentally gave him Armand’s.”

“What!” Marie exclaims, laughing disbelievingly, “How?”

“I don’t know! Anyway, it worked out, because they’ve been dating for three months now. Armand texted me last week to thank me for setting them up. Apparently he’s under the impression that I did it deliberately.”

Marie sniggers, “That’s probably for the best, he already has enough dirt on you, he doesn’t need to realise you’re an idiot too,” there’s a buzzing noise from somewhere near her and she jumps, “Oh, speaking of texts.”

After several moments of searching each pocket, and then under each cushion in her immediate vicinity, she locates her phone and checks it. Immediately, she pulls a face. Louis knows that face. 

“Is that…?”

“Yeah, it’s mom,” Marie sighs, “You know she’s been dropping hints about wanting to see Claudia at christmas again?"

Louis’ heart drops into his stomach. He fiddles with the label on his bottle, "And has she…?"

"Changed in any way, shape, or form? Not a chance."

Louis exhales shakily, staring down at the bottle in his hands. It’s something called kombucha - he doesn’t know what it is, but it’s big at the moment so there’d been a promotion on and he thought he’d try a pack. He hates it, although unfortunately he feels too guilty to pour them all away, so he’s stuck drinking his way through them. 

Staring down at it, their mother brought so abruptly into the conversation, a traitorous part of him fleetingly wishes the bottle was full of something stronger. He was always braver after a few drinks; stupider, definitely, and meaner, but braver. It would be easier to talk about mom after a few drinks. And then he thinks about the little bronze medallion attached to his keys, with the proud 5 Years embossed on it. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, and exhales the tightness in his chest away. He takes a sip of his stupid kombucha and scowls as he swallows it.

“Louis…” Marie says softly. She pulls her feet from his lap and tucks her legs beneath her, shuffling over so she’s beside him and can squeeze his shoulder. He shakes his head.

"Even after...” he waves a hand, “After everything, I still miss her. I hate it."

Marie opens her mouth, but as he watches, she seems to struggle for the words, and gives up, grimacing in sympathy instead. 

Louis turns to her, catching her elbow, “If she’s harassing you about it, I can-”

“No,” Marie says immediately, “No, you said no contact until she stops being-”

“Terrible?” Louis offers.

“I was going to say ‘a homophobic transphobic bitch’ but I guess yours is more succinct - anyway, since she’s still terrible, she won’t be getting any contact.”

Louis frowns, protectiveness rising inside of him like a tide, “I don’t want her to move onto harassing you though.”

“Look, Lou, telling mom where to stick it was probably the most badass thing you’ve ever done,” she snorts. “I won’t let you go back on that just because she’s being annoying. I can handle it.”

“Well,” Louis says, smiling wryly, “At the very least, you’ve got a good excuse to say no to her seeing Claudia at christmas.”

“Yeah?”

“We won’t be here. We’re spending it at Gabs’ cabin.”

“Oh,” Marie says, nodding, “Nice. She’ll love that.”

Louis hums vaguely, takes a long drink, and rips the metaphorical band-aid off, “Lestat’s coming too.”

Marie stares at him, eyes widening

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s…” Louis chews his lip, “it’s gonna be something else.”

She kicks him again, “Hey, maybe you’ll actually have fun.”

Louis snorts

Don’t think you’ve gotten out of talking about the blog!

-

(The last week of October passes, and then most of November is taken up by planning for Claudia's birthday; with its proximity to christmas, they always try to make a big deal of it for her, though this year she wants something a little more lowkey than usual. 

They end up taking a trip to the Museum of Natural History 

Claudia birthday party only has a few friends, mention Madeleine, trip to Tulane Museum of Natural History with Marie, Lestat tags along to help supervise, grandmother of one kid - Julia - helps too)

Lestat arrives basically on time, dressed - thankfully - appropriately for an outing to a museum with a group of seven year olds. Early in their relationship he went through a phase of wearing borderline obscene jeans, dressing like a washed up 80s rockstar rather than a washed up 90s popstar. It had been all part of his aggressive attempt to separate himself from his apple-pie boy-next-door image the record label had pushed early in his career, a hangover from his teenage rebellion, but he'd mortified Louis far too many times with his wardrobe for him to ever feel entirely confident on what Lestat might wear. The jeans had been set aside not long after he found out they were having Claudia, and much to Louis' relief, they don't seem to have seen the light of day again.

This time, he jogs in wearing a pair of skinny - but not 'make everyone else feel uncomfortable' skinny - grey jeans, one of those big infinity scarves, a denim jacket, and a pair of designer sunglasses that he flips up onto the top of his head as he enters the building. The whole outfit is so effortlessly stylish that it leaves Louis feeling oddly self-conscious in his chunky knit cardigan and button-up, which is ridiculous because he spent their whole relationship quite contentedly following around in the shadow Lestat's bright light cast, knowing that whilst Lestat had his admirers, one gesture from Louis would have him trotting back to his side like an obedient puppy. 

Now, without that devotion, he just feels like the frumpy dad. He does his best to school his expression into something at least borderline friendly as Lestat approaches, for the sake of getting through the day.

For the most part, it goes well; Marie makes for an excellent and engaging tour guide, and Lestat essentially turns it into a two-man comedy act with his annoying knack for performance. The worst thing about it all is that Lestat behaves and is genuinely very funny, and the kids all love him, and so Louis can't even find anything to be irritated by, which just makes him more irritated. So he stews at the back, trailing around to herd the stragglers. 

They take a break mid-afternoon for a drink and snack at the museum coffee shop; Claudia demands that Marie sit with her in the middle of the gaggle of kids, leaving Louis, Lestat, and Julia sitting together on a separate table. Louis is absolutely planning on grabbing the three of them drinks to avoid having to talk one-on-one with either of them, but to his dismay Julia offers first, and firmly pushes away their proffered wallets.

It's the first time he and Lestat have been alone in longer than Louis cares to think about. And they're not really alone, not with fifteen schoolkids on the tables beside them, but they are, in all the ways that count, distinctly not with anyone else.

Louis casts around desperately for a neutral conversation starter before the silence gets awkward.

"So," he says brightly, "How was your birthday?"

As long as Louis has known Lestat, he's loved making a big deal of his birthday. Even the birthday just before Claudia arrived, when Lestat was spending every waking moment grouchy and miserable and desperate to piss, he'd demanded an extravagant house party - and Louis presumes, knowing Lestat's love of drama, that the tradition had continued after their break up. No doubt he'd thrown a legendary party and had a wild night with a hundred friends all far too cool for Louis to possibly know, and he'll have enough stories to tell to tide them over until Julia gets back.

To his surprise, Lestat looks almost awkward. He fiddles with his phone, then shrugs, "Uh… well, actually my dad died. So it wasn't great."

Oh god. So much for a neutral conversation starter! Louis cringes immediately, then tries to reel it back into something appropriately sympathetic, "I'm… I'm sorry."

Although, knowing what little that he does of Lestat's father, he suspects Lestat isn't especially sorry himself. Lestat never spoke much about his childhood. A few times, whilst drunk, he'd curled up in Louis' arms crying about how his father had hurt him, but he'd never elaborated or explained, and all Louis knows is that Gabs had been pushed into the marriage at a very young age, both of Lestat's older brothers left home at sixteen, and that the moment Lestat's career success had allowed them the funds, Gabs had hired the best divorce lawyer in the city, Lestat had packed up his stuff, and they'd made a break for it.

Knowing Gabs, that alone told him a huge amount about Lestat's father.

Louis had only met the man once; shortly after Claudia was born, he'd turned up on their doorstep, a desperate wreck. Louis had always assumed that Lestat took after Gabs looks-wise, as after all he had her blond mane and sharp jawline, but he'd known the man was Lestat's father from the first moment he saw him as they had exactly the same distinctive grey-violet eyes. He was destitute, the man had said, his sons wouldn't speak to him, would Lestat…?

When Louis had called for Lestat, he'd taken one look at his father, exploded into furious tears, and locked himself in the bathroom. The commotion woke up Claudia, who began screaming, and Louis had been so overwhelmed and bewildered in his brand-new-parenthood sleep deprivation he'd wound up just giving Monsieur de Lioncourt all the cash in his wallet and calling him a taxi.

Later, once Lestat had calmed down and Claudia had stopped crying, and the three of them were curled up in bed together, Louis had silently agonised for hours over whether he'd done the right thing. To be honest, sometimes he still wonders.

Lestat looks at him, then down at his hands, then shrugs, mouth twisted in an expression more of conflict than any particular emotion.

"I'd been put as his emergency contact," Lestat snorts, "Likely because I'm the only one who can afford to pay his medical bills. The hospital managed to contact Augustin and Olivier, but they didn't even bother to show up. And obviously I didn't ask Gabs," he sighs, "So I spent my birthday sitting in a hospital room for three hours waiting for an old man to die in his sleep. I didn’t really feel up for a party after that, so I cancelled it."

Louis swallows. Lestat is fiddling with his phone again, snapping the expensive rose-gold case on and off. Louis wants to reach out and still his hands, thread their fingers together and stroke his thumb up and down Lestat's, kiss his knuckles and smile softly at him like he used to do when Lestat got anxious or antsy-

-but that's not them anymore, so he just sits and watches helplessly.

"I'm sorry," Louis repeats, at a loss as to what else to say. 

"Don't be sorry that he's dead," Lestat says, voice tight, glaring down at his phone, "Because I'm not. I don't think anyone is."

"I'm…" Louis swallows, and as he watches Lestat's jerky hand movements around the phone, the compulsion overtakes him and he reaches out - just to his wrist, a safe zone, Louis' fingers holding around his big expensive watch, not even touching his skin, but Lestat still looks up at him sharply.

"I'm sorry you had to do that on your own," Louis says softly. Lestat stares at him for a moment, and then, to his surprise, Lestat lets out a sigh and the tension immediately leaves his shoulders. He can't meet Louis' gaze, but he nods, acknowledging it.

If you'd asked me, I would have gone with you, Louis realises with some shock. It feels like something he should tell Lestat, and it's on the tip of his tongue, but then Lestat sits up in his chair and pulls his hand away. It takes a moment for Louis to realise it's because Julia is approaching with a tray of drinks.

"Here we go," she says cheerfully, setting down the tray. It has three mugs and a small teapot. Louis stares at the teapot and feels his heart sink. Oh dear. 

Lestat, on the other hand, immediately perks up, a delighted grin taking over his face as he takes his latte and looks between Louis and the teapot.

"Julia," he says, "Julia, cherie, you got him tea, how did you know?"

Louis grinds his teeth and glares as Lestat meets his eyes, then quickly pulls up a polite smile when Julia turns to him.

Julia preens, clearly proud of herself, "Well, I said I'd get us three coffees, but then I saw that they sold tea, and I remembered that you had tea at [event], and I thought it might be a nice surprise," she hesitates, "Was- was I right?"

"Of course you were!" Lestat jumps in, patting her hand, "Louis is a Tea Person, can't you just tell from how cultured and refined he is? Look at that cardigan, those elbow patches - doesn't it just fit his asthetique?"

Louis is going to grind his back molars to dust at this rate, but he manages to unclench his jaw for a few moments to thank Julia for her kind thought, then he resignedly pours out the pot into his mug. The conversation is thankfully steered onwards, and Louis cups the mug in his hands and avoids drinking for almost five whole minutes on the excuse that it’s too hot before he has to take a sip. 

It’s not that Louis hates tea. 

(Lestat grabs mug and pours tea into plant when granddaughter calls for Julia)

[veryace-ficrecs]

Gen Stranger Things Fanfic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)  

This list is only General Audience Fanfic! enjoy (*￣3￣)╭

He Can Love Three Things by Capriciously_Terminal

“I think you’re beautiful,” Steve tells Eddie when they’re standing on a basketball court in the middle of a day that’s so hot you could practically skin your knee against it. It’s a moment of stillness like a snapshot. Like freeze-tag, when you had to thunder to a stop at the slap of a hand and just do nothing with all that momentum you’d been in the middle of using.

(AKA Steve Harrington can love Eddie Munson AND basketball as a treat)

Dustin Henderson and the Lovebirds by pukner

"You look like you've been mauled, dude," says Lucas. Then, after a beat, "Oh, ew."

"What the fuck," says Dustin, cottoning on, "What the fuck. This is hell, you didn't."

"Oh, I did," says Eddie, with the air of someone who's won something. He looks like the proverbial cat who's got the canary, if the canary wore polos and listened to Blondie.

"Shut up," Steve mutters, flushing as he seems to register what's happening, "Guys, it's not what you--uh, this isn't what it looks like--"

Or, five times Dustin Henderson was subjected to Eddie Munson being gross and sappy and in love with Steve Harrington, and one time Steve didn't even have to be there.

truly the angel's best by unkreativstermensch

Because he is only human after all, a gay human, actually, with a huge, embarrassing gay crush on Steve Harrington (just a crush though, no real feelings, no because that…hahaha, that would be a real fucking problem and Eddie has enough of those, seriously) and now…

Now that exact Steve Harrington is standing there, in the middle of the living room, in front of the sofa all the gremlins are scrambled on together and- and he’s holding a baby.

Eddie feels like the breath got knocked right out of his lungs.

Or: Steve with babies is the cutest thing in the world and you cannot convince the author (or Eddie) otherwise.

Always Look on The Upside (of the Tip Jar) by Capriciously_Terminal

Steve, the new one who was distinctly crown-less except some pin on his apron with a French quote from Le Morte d’Arthur, which Robin read in actual French and had given him for Christmas even though they’d all been forced to provide a separate twenty-five dollar gift for the staff white elephant exchange, generally hid in the walk-in when people he’d generally been dickish to walked in.

But this time, the long-haired guy Steve had at one point terrorized, walks right up to Steve and has an incredibly odd request.

(AKA Steve Harrington, local barista, forgets a guy's name but does remember their past).

Make Me Look Good by Elle_dubs (avril_o)

A Life For Every Year (And One For After) by Kedreeva

Eddie works in a tuxedo rental shop.

Steve rents a tuxedo for prom, he's taking Robin.

Light shenanigans. 

Steve meets her when he is nine years old. She is skin and bones, and fits in the cup of his hands like a tiny, furry tennis ball and her purr rattles against the skin of his palms.

----

Or, the one where baby Steve adopts the same stray kitten as baby Jonathan.

come and rest your bones with me by MacksDramaticShenanigans

“We’re making a fort.”

Steve is barely even halfway through the door when he is accosted with the declaration. His slick raincoat is still zipped up, his wet umbrella still wide open and dripping onto the porch behind him.

“What?” He asks, fumbling to close the umbrella and shake it out before a stack of blankets are being shoved into his arms.

“We are making a fort,” Eddie repeats, grinning at Steve. He’s got his own heap of blankets bundled against his chest, and when Steve glances past his shoulder he can see that the bones of said fort are already mostly established — Wayne’s armchair has already been moved from its cozy corner of the room to now sit directly across from the couch, and the coffee table has been pushed to the side so as to not be a nuisance to the building process.

And, well, it sounds like a lot of fun, actually.

“Yeah, sure, alright,” Steve replies with a huff of a laugh.

hash brown, egg yolk (i will always love you) by MacksDramaticShenanigans

Six months is a long time to be apart. A long time to go without seeing Eddie in the flesh. Without hearing his laugh, low and melodic, right against the shell of his ear. Without hugging Eddie around the middle and hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder while he stands at the stove and pushes something delicious around a pan. Without kissing Eddie.

But so is the way of being married to a hotshot musician with a band that has more than made it big.

Because that's what Eddie is. And, god, Steve couldn’t be more proud.

Even if it does mean that sometimes he and Eddie have to go long stretches of time without seeing each other.

But that doesn’t matter anymore. Because Eddie is home now, and he’s going to be home for a while. Corroded Coffin just wrapped up the European leg of their tour (“Fucking Europe, Stevie! Can you believe it!”) and they’ve been given a month before their North American leg is set to start. A whole entire month that Eddie already promised he will be spending at home with Steve.

Starting today.

Hey, Jude by Sharpbutsoft (BuckysButt)

 The phone only gets a chance to trill once before Eddie snatches it up from the cradle.

 He’s been waiting for this all day.

 “You’ve got Eddie,” he says, even though only a handful of people know what hotel he’s staying in, his room number. Even fewer would risk calling him right before a show, but he’s got a car on standby to collect him once he’s done, and this is a very important phone call.

 “Is that how you’re greeting your husband now?”

To Get A Recipe by Catnerys

Seven months after the apocalypse literally tore through Hawkins and his miraculous not-death, Eddie does the second bravest thing he ever did and calls Steve.

I Don't Have to Leave Alone by Capriciously_Terminal

Eddie Munson's "European Tour" (i.e. running away to Germany) had hardly been glamorous and he'd expected the same from his homecoming.

Count on Steve Harrington to ruin that by picking him up from the airport.

(AKA There's nothing softer than someone getting you from the airport)

i’ll stop the world and freeze with you by wynnyfryd

Eddie promised he’d take Max ice skating, only… Only he doesn’t actually have a single solitary fucking clue what he’s doing, alright? Good thing there’s a very helpful Hot Guy who can assist. 

 Phantom Scent by CrystalDragonette

Nancy was only supposed to check on Steve since he wasn't answering the walkie-talkie. Instead she hears him giving Barb a life update

With surprise visitors

your Midas touch on the Chevy door by sarcasticassian

last night his fiancee had blurted out that she was a lesbian and Steve’s perfectly built up walls came crashing down and a tidal wave of feelings rushed in reminding him of his own not so straight sexuality as well and now he’s stood in a side room in the town church and his gay fiancee is waiting just outside the doors to walk down the aisle and he can’t do it

----

a sort of arranged marriage scenario but also some freedom fighting

eddie munson's foolproof test (to see if a guy is sticking around) by loverboysteve

Eddie has a test.

It took some time to formulate, a few too many times with guys careless with his heart, who leave behind more heartache than happiness littered in their memory. It’s fucking hard to tell.

More than once, there’s been a dude who promises between kisses 'i’m not going anywhere' and takes more than his fill during a night which Eddie desperately hopes is passion and not some misguided lust. Only to wake a familiar empty side of the bed, them gone — skipping town, back in the arms of their parent-approved girlfriend, or back to spitting his name out with the word freak.

It’s what the test is for.

Secret Sweater by Maybird315

Eddie learns how to knit so he can make Steve an ugly sweater

A Kiss in the Snow by Sparkle_Fiend

Eddie is going all out for Christmas - there's a lot to celebrate this year. He survived the Upside Down, he and Wayne have a new house, and Eddie has a boyfriend. Unfortunately, his plans are derailed when the weather turns foul and Steve doesn't show on time. 

 What the hell are you wearing? by thebridgetonarnia

Steve and Robin wear matching ugly christmas sweaters, Eddie is confounded by them. 

The Perfect Team by MixAddams

Steve doesn’t hate DnD, he just doesn’t get it. 

Harrington Family Reunion by damnwellworthit

Steve gets the chance to take a plus one to the family reunion so he takes the opportunity

[christmas-svg]

20 Files Of Retro Christmas Bundle SVG Merry Christmas Quotes SVG Designs

[stormcrow513]

So @pieandhotdogs just tagged me to share some books I'm working on in 2023 with y'all, so first thanks Pie I like these games, and ask me about BOOKS hell yeah!

So i got

Arcana Mundi I got for a decent price at ThriftBooks early last year but I only got a bit into it before I threw my hands up and was like I am not absorbing any of this right now I'll get back to it, and wiping down some dust down on Hekate's night I unearthed it and was like yep this year Ima read this fucking book so wish me luck or send me spell to smarten me up I'll take either lol,

I also got Laura's Anatomy Of A Witch as a Christmas present and I've been working on it slowly over the month, I'm really enjoying it so far,

I can't remember who but one of my witchblr peeps recommend Deborah's Magical Power For Beginners to new comers, and as I've been trying to get back to basics to fill in on some areas I feel I missed out on I thought I'd give it a go, so far I've only had one bitch, which is amazing cause I can be bitchy,

(in case you're curious, she talks about how she doesn't use magic with a k which is good yes but then says Crowley was a fan of magic with a K, and I'm like yeah bitch he invented magic with a k how can you not know that you are literally quoting him)

For fiction I got The Dream Theives I got the first in the Raven Cycle for christmas I have Maggie's Raven Tarot deck and been wanting to read the books, I ate through the first like mad and am trying to pace myself with the second,

And another of my Christmas bundle of books was Johnathan Strange and Mister Norrell, I'd first heard about it from a Supernatural fanfiction crossover, (anyone whose interested I can send you a link, it's fucking great) then again and again it popped up on her in witch circles I think @hillsarehollow said her old account @rainshallmakeadoor was in reference to it? And other witchblrs I'm following have gushed over it so I've been wanting a go at it, though I find I've been somewhat mislead I've been told this is a novel and yet I received a Tome, when it came in separately from my other books ma and I were like what the fuck that's not ONE book right?!

Anyway I am surprised to find myself really liking, books set in ye olden times lol can be very hot or miss with me but I'm digging Susanna's 'voice'

So tagging, hmm well @hillsarehollow consider the above mention your tag if you see this,

@friend-crow I read about that one dence book you're reading (something with roses in the title if I'm not mistaken) curious about what else you've gotten up to,

@graveyarddirt and @satsekhem I know you're both having a bitch of it so no pressure but I'm thinking of you both and wishing you well and hoping this might be a fun thing so again no pressure,

[aestheticvoyage2023]

Day 22: Sunday January 22, 2023 - “Oregon Coast”

I felt like a ghost. Haunting my younger self, re-running these roads from Ecola State Park on down to Newport, through Tillamook and Corvallis and back up to PDX.   Out here where I spent a Christmas Eve before I knew even what I was doing, with a picnic basket and an idea and a bundle of firewood on the sands outside Netarts with ghosts of Christmas Past and Present dancing with me in the blowing sand - very green, then, and really up to something but not ever really sure,  but now with a grey beard and experience to know that the road does always provide, and now, as I drove out hoping to catch a sunset that would move me in some important way, out over that powerful ocean where the clouds always break for me, remembering that familiar feeling of hoping that was true again, and then there it was finally - the Pacific, the ocean that I dreamed into on so many lonely nights and empowered days, thinking about that old Primo Levi quote about feeling strong...  this is a powerful place, a place that I’ll always be drawn to.   I wound down the road, recognizing things and remembering things from a place I hadn’t seen in almost 13 years, and other places like Newport that I came back to over and over, as a waypoint on my Aesthetic Voyage.  I wondered, as I drove by, if Luke would remember guiding me to that Shell Station, the one coming up right before the road takes a 90 degree right, back before I had a smart phone of my own.  “Hey are you by a computer?”  Feels like a different life ago, and it was, but the timeless place is unmoved, unchanged.  The sea is still there, with its constant flow; harsh blows, what a gift.  So familiar and Close to the heart, Running running, born to run, like Christmas Night in Lincoln City, before the photo blog even existed, and how The Boss sings me through every time - “you signing that to me? - One Night Only!”  A runaway American Dream and Wild Oats.   Id like to think the place still knows me well too; that I havent been gone too long, the different chapters, the different lovers, the different times I came here looking for something - that restless cowboy up and down the 101- the path of paradise for me forever and always.  An Important Place that always knew the winding path I was on, and how I’d get there, and now I come back “home” like Christopher Robin to remember with delicate nostalgia and pride for how it was, and even what wasn’t -  Like that sad lovers resort at Depoe Bay, the first time I really remember my heart being broke - how I screamed out at the Gratiot Airport into the night over that place right there, as I rolled by it again, dark as it should be;  Stories untold, never written, right there - important more for maybe what didn’t happen here 17 years ago so it could be just mine, how here at this state park I pull into, I sat and burned divorce papers in the campfire, that was a sad night, and it was only mine, endings here too; and how just miles down the road there is a girl with a tattoo marking a path I chose not to go down as I verbed my way back East instead, and how the gift of that story came out of this mist.  The mist, thats always sent me home with many gifts, and made me work for most of them, which this wildman always appreciated.  So many things to tell out along these mile markers, of Chili Bombs, and running for mayor, and beer boiled clams, and sleeping on the sand, and me haunting them all in my rental, enjoying the green views of a pacific northwest forest highway, as if I was driving with my own self there in the backseat, in the rearview mirror the only difference between us is the miles  “The difference between love and happiness is you.” And maybe there is a wink from the universe and a nudge that I am figuring it out, as I cycle back through the places and the stories and the people of that time and space - that the adventure needs to come back, and the fire, and the blurry eyed idealism that the world worked, now with age and wisdom to truly enjoy how the story unfolds, where I used words like soulful, and supplication, and I didnt feel so much pressure and I laughed, and didn’t worry so much about the hurts, though itd be easy to.  “Welcome back old friend.”  I see you, I recognize you.  This is an important place.  A place that knows me.  And the treasure I left here, and the treasure I took away.  A place that is mine, again.

Song: Bruce Springsteen - Born To Run

Quote: '...Ah, life is a gate, a way, a path to Paradise anyway, why not live for fun and joy and love or some sort of girl by a fireside, why not go to your desire and LAUGH...'  ~Jack Kerouac

[jumbosvg]

27 Christmas Vacation Quotes Svg Bundle

[stupidthingssaidorread]

So last year for Christmas my family did a game of Left Right Center where Center meant you can grab a mystery gift from the center or steal a gift from someone and Left and Right would make you pass the gifts in their respective direction. Some people kept sealing a singular bottle of alcohol while others went for the gifts/bundle of items they wanted. I ended up with a few but the joke one was a daily page calendar of stupid saying/quote/ translations. At first I didn’t care for it but as the year went on I realized it’s potential for shitposting. So that’s what I will be posting till I run out. I have a bunch already.

[dagatekeeper]

So last year for Christmas my family did a game of Left Right Center where Center meant you can grab a mystery gift from the center or steal a gift from someone and Left and Right would make you pass the gifts in their respective direction. Some people kept sealing a singular bottle of alcohol while others went for the gifts/bundle of items they wanted. I ended up with a few but the joke one was a daily page calendar of stupid saying/quote/ translations. At first I didn’t care for it but as the year went on I realized it’s potential for shitposting. So that’s what I will be posting till I run out. I have a bunch already.