#holiday and christmas loans

[investingdrone]

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[brimarc-noel-llc]

Christmas is a moment to reflect upon the blessings in our lives. Let's take a pause and acknowledge the abundance that surrounds us. Express gratitude for the loved ones, the joys, and even the challenges that have shaped us. Remember, gratitude is the gateway to lasting happiness. From BriMarc Noel LLC

[jessicawilliam02]

[clobberbox]

Hot dog! We’re excited about Christmas, mainly because it means we get to watch the greatest Christmas movie of all time - It’s a Wonderful Life!

This year we’ll be wearing our new Bailey Bros Buildings and Loan ugly Christmas sweater whilst we do and you can too! They’re available to buy online now in a range of colours over at our Teepublic store, here: 

SHOP

[pixiesfz]

okay so this idea is a bit out there but you know that girl on tik tok who has the woso wall and talks about all the drama in woso.She also has a wall trying to figure out if Lucy and keira are dating or ona and Lucy so I think it could be cute if you made a fic about that girl making a wall about if reader and jessie are together or if they’re dating different players and then them finding out about it and stuff.Idk I just made that up in my head so you don’t have to do it it’s just an idea 😘

YES OMG WAIT THIS IS FUNNY

on the wall j.f

plot: your sister sends you a tik tok that has you and your secret girlfriend having a serious conversation

warning: that crazy tik tok lady

It was a Tuesday afternoon when your sister sent you a link, you had just returned from your trip to Canada where Jessie took you to meet her friends and family and you couldn’t have been happier.

devils spawn: little sis…

y/n: what is it Katie?

devils spawn: you’ve made it to the wall

y/n: huh?

devils spawn: *insert link*

You furrowed your eyebrows as the link took you into tik tok, a video that already had over 65,000 likes.

“Now Tom” a woman’s voice started as she pointed at a wall, your eyes shot up at the amount of pictures of your sister and her current girlfriend and also ex girlfriend as well as other soccer players such as Lucy and Keira.

Then you saw what she was pointing at a picture of you that was next to a picture of Jessie.

You I paused the video and watched along.

“Now the McCabe sisters did not go home for their Christmas holidays this year” she stated as you looked at recent pictures from your trips to Canada and Ireland.

“Now this is y/n Mccabe, Katie’s younger sister, we’ve mentioned her a couple of times when she posted pictures of her, Katie and Caitlin” and you thought back to that post that was a couple months ago.

How long has this been going on? You thought.

“Now I haven’t put it on the board yet because their wasn’t enough evidence but it is rumoured that y/n is dating a Canadian soccer player Jessie playing who plays for Chelsea, a rival of Arsenal.

“Why would she date the enemy” the guy asked and the woman looked at him “because that’s a cool love story Tom” she rebutted.

“Well anyways, it’s confirmed that y/n dated Georgia Stanway when she was on a loan at man city” she said and pointed to an old photo of you and Georgia when you played for the team “broke up when Georgia went to Germany, we don’t know if Jessie has dated anyone other than the fact that some Chelsea fans thinks that her and team mate Niamh Charles could be an item as they are very close” she pointed at photos of both Jessie and Niamh which you paused the video to laugh at the conspiracy of her girlfriend and her bestfriend.

“But y/n was seen spending Christmas at Canada which is where Jessie is from but this isn’t the only time they’ve been caught together, at the World Cup Jessie was seen watching the Ireland vs. Australia game with an Ireland top on, very similiar to Caitlin” she rambled on “I don’t have a good enough photo of that” she muttered “then there’s also a group of pictures online that looks like a double date between the two couples” she pointed at two photos that were stuck next to each other, one with Caitlin and Katie and one with you and Jessie, though you had posted the photo months apart it was clear it was the same place.

Your mouth kept on dropping as the girl talked about instances where it could’ve been possible that you and Jessie were a thing.

When Jessie came back from training you shoved the phone into her face “watch” you demanded and say her down.

You watched her reactions as she furrowed her brows “what the heck?” She asked as you nodded “how did they know about that?” She asked when the woman talked about Jessie at your game “apparently people are more observant then we think” you told her and she glued her eyes back onto the phone.

“Remember this Tom cause I don’t think this will be the last time we talk about this couple” the woman stated before the video ended.

Jessie turned to you.

“That was the second weirdest thing I’ve seen today” she said and you furrowed your brows “then what’s the first?” You asked “well Erin showed me a video-“ “I already don’t want to know” you shut her mouth and she laughed.

“How did you find that?” Jessie asked “Katie sent it to me. They’ve been doing videos on her and Caitlin and Ruesha for a while now” you said as you scrolled through the account.

“It’s a little bit weird but expected” Jessie said and you turned to her “how so expected?” You asked and she shrugged “I mean I don’t extremely like it but women’s football is now getting more hype and I guess more fans”

You nodded at your girlfriend “I don’t like how people are caring more about our love life’s then our talent, I bet this woman doesn’t even know what position we play” you said and Jessie took your phone out of your hand.

“Should we just tell people we’re dating to make them stop making assumptions then?” Jessie asked and you looked to the wall “I don’t know” you said “I guess I’m just trying to get used to it all” you shrugged.

Jessie reached her arms around you and pulled you into a hug which you accepted “well you have me and I’ll help you get used to it all” she said and kissed you on the forehead, you smiled before pushing bf her off “have a shower you smell” you told her and she laughed.

“Well you just hugged me so I guess we both need a shower”.

You ended up getting used to the videos people made about you and Jessie, finding some of them funny and even entertaining some of it.

You commented on the wall girls tik tok once asking Tom to blink twice if he needed help and the media went crazy for it.

You and Jessie did eventually open up to the public about your relationship, posting a photo of you at a Chelsea dinner with Jessie’s hand on your thigh as you kissed her cheek.

‘she may look happy here but we made a bet that she would wear my Arsenal kit if we won the derby so @_jessflem you ready?’ Was your caption.

You were so overwhelmed by the amount of love and craziness that happened under the post you left your phone for the day whilst Jessie read out the comments begging for the photos of Jessie in the kit.

Jessie reposted the post adding a message saying that nobody would ever see the photos of her in your kit.

“That wasn’t as hard as we thought” Jessie said as she pulled you into her chest that night and kissed you goodnight

[roguerogerss]

snow lands on top

pairing: coriolanus snow x covey reader

w/c: 3.2k

warnings: just fluff! a few sexual comments but nothing more, mentions of family deaths, reader is just a poor lil soul

(merry christmas my angels! if you’re having a hard time, i feel you! here’s some soft coryo lovin to help you through it. the holidays r a hard time for so so many people, and my inbox will always be open to anyone who needs someone who’ll understand <3 luv you the most, we’ll get through it all)

-

Christmas Eve. The soft patter of snowfall, the breeze from your half open window, the bustle of the Corso below. You'd been listening to the Christmas shoppers - stressed or unbothered - the kids playing in the snow, mothers and fathers dragging their children to holiday themed events. Laying around in bed all day in old silk had become your go-to on the run-up to Christmas.

You’d come to hate snowfall. It meant the sounds of merry families, playing outside together. It meant mourning for when you could do that, it meant resenting others, something that the Covey would never want for you.

Christmas was bittersweet. It had been for years, now. No gifts under your small, sad Christmas tree, no family gathering, no over-the-top dinner event, sometimes no dinner at all. You lived alone, in your little apartment which you could hardly afford, and had no family left since the war.

You remembered the good times, of course, that was the 'sweet' in all of the bitter. Remembering your mother's baking and the smell of sugar cookies and Christmas cake. The lavish real evergreen tree that made the ridiculously high ceilings of your apartment look low. The gifts, the dinner, curling up with a mug of hot milk on the plush sofa. You even thought of your Christmases back in District twelve. Never too fancy, never too many gifts, but a family, the Covey, music, a home.

Life after the war had been cruel to you. What once was a young girl, with a family wealthy enough to move her to the Capitol, had become a young woman with no one to turn to, and not a penny to her name. You didn't have the luxury of pretending like everything was fine, like you had your family's riches to fall back on. Everyone at the Academy had found out when you'd had to ask for a scholarship loan to pay for your tuition, one which you'd never be able to pay back.

That was something you'd always envied of a particular classmate of yours. Coriolanus Snow. Crassus Snow's baby boy. You knew he must've been penniless, as poor as a church mouse. But maybe you only knew that because your own circumstances were much the same. Coriolanus was smart about it, always looking classy from an outside perspective, never asking for money, never acting hungry. But, when looked into closer, you could easily see cracks.

His shoes were the same ones he'd had since first year at the Academy, and they must've been achingly too small for him. He'd eat only small amounts at school and pretend he was full up, but you'd seen him once, with no shirt on, and his ribs stuck out like a sore thumb. Wherever there was an academic prize that involved money, he was always trying his hardest to win, pulling out every stop, but if there was no monetary prize, he'd only do half as much.

You saw right through his act, always had, but instead of exposing him to everyone else out of jealousy, you'd helped him out whenever you could. Us poor orphans have to stick together, right?

You'd share food, give eachother your spare trolley tokens so you wouldn't have to walk the hour back to the Corso, discuss strategy over how to win said academic prizes, and split them with eachother when you did.

You'd become close friends, over the years, even although it was kept strictly as a secret from all of your other classmates. And so, when you heard a familiar voice floating in through your window, you smiled to yourself.

"Y/N?" You could only faintly hear him calling from the street, but you started up from your bed and yanked the window open fully so that you could hang out of it.

There he was, Coriolanus Snow, in all of his glory. Blonde curls full of white snowflakes, wrapped in what seemed to be a ratty fur coat, chittering away. You laughed when you saw him. "Coryo, what are you doing out? You'll freeze to death!"

"Wanted to come and make sure you were okay." He called back, and then looked around warily, almost as though he was checking the coast was clear before asking, "Can I come up?"

You nodded, "I'll buzz you in." And then you swiftly closed the window. Goosebumps had raised on your arms and chest and you'd be paying for the next year if you had to put the furnace on.

You crossed to your bedroom door, made your way down the hall, and pressed the buzzer, which always made the most abhorrent sound when it let whoever was outside, in.

You waited by the door, and soon enough, Coryo was coming bounding up the stairs, fur coat now in his hand, nose and cheeks bright red. You let him in and laughed as you took his coat from him and hung it up. "It's Tigris'. I don't have anything warm enough, but it's the rattiest old thing I've ever seen."

"It's quite something." You turned back to see him shivering, arms folded around his body to try to warm himself. "Oh, you poor lamb."

Your Covey accent had never faded. The Capitol had always looked down upon you for it, but Coryo blushed every time you spoke. "I'm fine, I'll be fine."

"But it's freezing in here, too. Come here." You opened the small cupboard in the hallway, which held a few random seasonal items, and pulled out two, old blankets. You smiled at Coriolanus as you draped one around his shoulders, and he smiled back, close enough to you that his breath was hitting your cheek.

"Thank you, honey." Coriolanus' eyes scanned your apartment, peering through the living room door and then your bedroom door, and he frowned when he saw just one Christmas decoration - your tiny little tree. His family was poor, but Tigris was creative, and they still managed to uphold some joy in the form of tinsel and stockings at Christmas time.

"What?" Your face dropped and you looked worried, placing a tender hand on Coryo's blanket-clad shoulder. "You look so sad."

"You just..." Coryo's voice trailed off, unsure of how to say what he meant without hurting, or offending you. "I mean, you don't have too much, do you?"

"Well, I thought you knew that." A crease had appeared between your brows and you sounded upset with him, dropping your hand from where it had previously sat. Coryo corrected himself quickly, shaking his head at you.

"No, I'm sorry, that came out wrong." He racked his brain for something to say that would make you feel better. The look on your face made his chest sting. "I don't know, would you want to spend Christmas with us?"

You cocked your head to the side, looking at him as though he was going insane. Maybe he was, he wasn't even sure what he was saying. He closed his eyes and ran and hand over his face, which brightened you up a bit. You laughed, and he laughed, and he felt his shoulders relax. Why was he so nervous? He never got nervous, not like this, anyway.

"We don't have much either, but it'd mean you weren't alone. I know how you feel, especially at this time of year." Coryo noticed the slight tinge of pink that had dawned your cheeks, and, on a whim, he reached out and, with two freezing fingers, tilted your head back so that you were looking at him. "You could come to our house, Tigris makes bread pudding, and we managed to get some beef mince this year, too. Maybe you could even sleep over tonight, and we could wake up together-"

"Coryo, you're rambling." You stopped him, you knew he could go on for hours, and, although the offer was tempting, and you enjoyed the idea of spending even more time around Coryo, you planned on turning him down. "Thank you. That sounds lovely, but I'd never want to intrude. No, the Covey wrote me to let me know they've installed a telephone in the town hall, I can call them for a couple minutes tomorrow, lift my spirits. I'll be fine."

You waved him off, and pulled your mother's old silk robe tighter around your body. You started towards the living room door, expecting Coryo to follow, maybe you'd sit together on the flaky sofa and talk for a few hours, but he didn't let you get far. He snatched your hand from your side, and when you turned to look at him, his blue eyes were filled with concern.

"Call them from our house." He wasn't going to let you off without a yes. "Please. I can't leave you alone, that's not fair. Plus, I've always wanted to meet them, haven't I?"

You took a breath and adjusted your hand in his. It felt nice, to have him be so affectionate. You could admit you were closer than most friends, the line between friendship and love always slightly blurred and maybe crossed over on more than one occasion, but it always felt good to have him near.

After careful consideration, and a few reassuring rubs at the back of your hand from Coryo, you finally gave in. "Are you sure? I don't mean to be a pain-"

"You're not. You could never be." He stepped closer and took your other hand, close enough to you that, if he leaned forward, your foreheads would be touching. "Honest, Tigris will be happy to have someone other than Grandma'am."

"And what about Grandma'am? I'm District, I don't think she'll like that-"

"She respects your family. It's not the right way, I know, but there are very few district people she doesn't mind. She knew your parents, always says they were very respectable people." A grimace crossed Coryo’s face, talking about his Grandma’am’s views in front of you. He’d agreed with her for most of his life, but that was until he met you, and that Covey accent finally made snow melt and changed his mind.

"Really?" Your face had lit up. The idea of anyone from the Capitol accepting you, no, respecting you, was something you’d only ever dreamt of.

"Really." Coryo smiled, now, and then he joked, “What an honour, huh? To have Grandma'am like you."

"An honour, indeed." You laughed. You let go of one of his hands, but kept hold of the other. You started to drag him with you towards your bedroom, but Coryo stayed put, confused. He’d never been inside your bedroom, he assumed it was off limits. You laughed at him, “I’m not trying to get you into bed, darlin’, if I was you’d know about it.”

His face turned a deep shade of red and you approached him and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Coryo, I’m messin’. I’m just going to pack a bag, you can come if you like, but if I’m making you uncomfortable you’re welcome to sit in the living room.”

“No. Oh, no. You’re not making me uncomfortable.” Coryo let you lead him to your bedroom, now, and he looked around the almost bare room as though it was a place of worship. There was hardly anything in there, a mattress on the floor, a small, oil lamp positioned next to it. A couple of books, a wardrobe which held your school uniform and your mother’s old performance dresses, which you wore every day you could. He was just happy to be somewhere so intimate, somewhere you allowed only the closest people in your life. “Sorry.”

You got that cheeky look on your face, now. The one that Coryo loved so much. “It’s okay. I know you’re a virgin, anyway-”

“Hey!” He smacked you with the blanket and you giggled and smacked him back. “That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, but it’s obvious.”

-

The walk to Coriolanus’ apartment wasn’t long, but it felt different. You’d never made it obvious that you were close, before, but you walked together, through the snow, chatting away like you’d been best friends for years - which was the case, and now people knew. Even when you passed classmates or their families, you’d both smile and wave, and it felt good to know that people would know.

“Are you excited to meet Grandma’am?” Coryo joked. Your cheeks balled when you laughed and gripped onto his hand in an overdramatic way. Coryo thought his heart might’ve burst.

You bounded forward, still holding his hand, and walked backwards in front of him. “Oh, the most excited. I’m sure she’s got great gossip.”

“Only the best. Did you know she had a fling with the President’s brother when they were in school?” Coryo whispered dramatically, and you gave him an equally as theatrical gasp.

“I hope she’ll tell me all about it.”

You arrived at the apartment cold but happy, noses bright red but laughing. Fingers freezing but locked together. You felt pure joy for the first time in a long time, and Coryo decided he could get used to this.

When Tigris opened the door, you knew this was the right decision. Her face lit up, and she clapped her hands together excitedly as soon as she saw you. She didn’t even bother to greet Coriolanus, just started straight for you, “Oh my! It’s so lovely to see you. Please tell me you’re staying for Christmas!”

“I sure am. Coryo managed to convince me.” You looked up to the boy stood beside you, who’d already been smiling down at you with such love in his eyes.

“Well, we are so happy to have you. Lucky to have you.” Tigris squeezed your shoulder and then stepped to the side, gesturing to both of you. “Come in, please.”

You could’ve sobbed, the feeling of being wanted, not being alone. Coryo touched a comforting hand to your arm as you stepped into the foyer, once grand, but now cracked and tired. Tigris took your coat, and the Grandma’am greeted you with open arms.

“Your dress is beautiful.” Tigris commented, and you did a quick twirl to show off the lace-up detail in the back.

“Thank you, it was my mama’s. I try to wear her dresses whenever I can.” You smoothed the ruffles of your dress, looking down lovingly at the shades of green tulle, handmade by your mother herself.

“And so you should.” Tigris reached out to touch your ruffles, too, and she smiled at you as she did so. “She had great taste.”

Coryo led you through to his bedroom, to let you drop your bag off and familiarise yourself with the place. “Thank you.” You muttered as you placed your bag on his windowsill. “For letting me come here, letting me stay. Your family are just beautiful.”

“Yeah, they’re great.” Coryo stood from his bed to join you as you looked out of his window onto the snow covered Corso, at a fresh snow angel and a family you could hear laughing from the penthouse. “I’m sure the Covey are, too. And your parents.”

“My parents were. And the Covey are. I hope one day, you can meet them.” You turned to him, that crease in your brow back.

“I’d love to.” Coryo took hold of your hand, noticing that you’d taken up an unsettled look. “Should we get some air? Grandma’am keeps roses on the roof, might be nice to see them in the snow.”

You nodded. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

The roof was nice, you could see the entirety of the Capitol from up there - roofs engulfed in white, and the snow-covered roses were such a beautiful sight. You plucked one of the stems, after Coryo said you could, and simply stared at the thing. Back home, flowers were everywhere, they felt like warm hugs, like trips to the lake, like your mama. It was rare that you saw them growing in the Capitol.

“It’s beautiful up here.” You commented as you took a seat at the edge of the rooftop. “You can see the whole city.”

“It is beautiful.” Coryo sat next to you, shoulders touching, pinky fingers travelling closer to eachother and then pulling back, looking forward but watching eachother out of the corner of your eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

Coryo had let it slip, and he took in a deep breath and held it for a while after speaking. You tried not to let your smile get too wide, worried it would border on psychotic-looking if you let it reach it’s full potential. Beautiful, Coriolanus Snow called you beautiful.

“Oh.” Was all you could say, quietly, only loud enough to be picked up by the soft breeze and carried over to Coriolanus. “Thank you, Coryo. I think you’re beautiful.”

Coriolanus looked down and laughed, shaking his head at you. You let your pinkies intertwine, now. “You’re just saying that because I said it.”

“I mean it. Anyone would be stupid not to think it.” Then all of your fingers were locked together. And you sighed and let your head fall onto Coryo’s shoulder. He smiled to himself, and then, in a quick surge of confidence, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and decided to speak his mind.

“You know I love you, right?" He blurted out. He didn’t regret it, but he was nervous, now. If he’d learned anything this Christmas Eve, it was that you made him nervous.

"I know." You closed your eyes and breathed in the cold air, “I love you, too."

"But I mean, really love you." Coryo took his hand from yours and, instead, draped his arm around your back, fingers reaching up to fidget with your hair. “You're very easy to fall in love with."

"Hm." You hummed and removed your head from his shoulder to look up at him. Your cheeks were flushed and your breath made little clouds in between your two faces. “I think you're very easy to fall in love with, too, Coryo."

You were so close, noses touching, Coryo’s hand still twirling one lock of your hair around and around. And then your lips were on his, his hand gripping the back of your neck, kissing you with a hunger, a passion, you’d never felt before. Not feverishly, not sexual in nature, just real, raw passion. You’d meant what you said. Coriolanus Snow was incredibly easy to love, and you did. You loved him. And he loved you. Nothing else had ever seemed to simple in your entire life.

Coryo couldn’t imagine a world, now, where your lips hadn’t been on his. Where you hadn’t called him beautiful. He was on a high, an all time high, he was convinced. Snow lands on top.

The snowflakes continued falling, landing on your heads, noses, the roses. And you let them, with no resentment, no upset. Because Coryo was there, everything was easy, now.

[clavissionary-position]

The streets of Achroite look so cozy and cute. It makes me think of the the North Pole. It makes me think of Matias dressing up as Santa every Christmas and delivering presents.

Matias: Do you have Christmas in Tanzanite?

Azel: Of course we don't. Christmas has nothing to do with the Living God. There are, however, no less than 34 holidays dedicated to me. A holiday for everyone else, but I have to work overtime on those days. Sigh.

Kagari: I've never seen him look so depressed... Matias, why don't you loan Christmas out to him?

Matias: Christmas doesn't belong to me, so I can't just—

Azel: What a wonderful idea! I'll lease out one, no several of those 34 days to you. You can come dress up in your funny Santa costume and run around the desert while my people chase you and, most importantly, while I get to vacation.

Matias: That's not how Christmas—

Kagari: (admiration) How many people do you have to kill to dye your Santa costume such a vivid red? I think it would only take me four to five. Wanna compete?

Matias: I don't kill—

Matias: (angst) Well I don't not—

Matias: Anyway, it's not for the costume!

Azel: (draws up a contract) You can Santa for us twice in March, four times throughout the summer and for the entire first two weeks of November.

Kagari: (quietly working on his own "Santa costume" in the background)

Matias: Azel, please listen to me. Christmas is in December.

Azel: Not in Tanzanite. Thank you for your business ✨

[cinnamon-girl-writes]

kintsugi . . . wakasa x reader

meeting your ex-best friend at the park in the middle of the night was not on your bucket list, but hey, tis the season !

fluff, could be canonverse or real world, semi-canon compliant, don't ask me which timeline/arc this is because idfk this show is confusing

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

This was probably the worst Christmas Eve of your life. Not only had you broken up with your shitty ex-boyfriend two weeks ago, but you were alone in your stupid four person college-loaned apartment completely alone. You couldn't go home this year because you had to study for exams, this being your last year of college. School comes first, you reminded yourself as you were wishing you were at your family home, cuddled up and eating freshly baked cookies.

You gazed absentmindedly at the cheesy Christmas rom com movie on your TV. Your roomates had all gone home for the holidays, so you really had the whole place to yourself.

Bored out of your mind, you glanced around your bedroom, eyes landing on a poloroid from your junior year of high school. Three faces smiled back at you-- well, two smiling faces and one grimace.

In the middle was you, bubbling with excitement from whatever mischief you had been getting into. Your arm was slung around a boy to your right with messy black hair and his school uniform in shambles. He had a mischevious smile upon his face, and you tried to recall what he had been planning that day. Shinichiro.

You had attended his funeral less than a year ago. He had died in some stupid, pointless way; some of his little brother’s friends messing around in his shop after dark. Even now, the thought of him still stung.

The boy on your other side was a head shorter than Shinichiro, a strawberry blond with the stick of a lollipop between his teeth. Wakasa Imaushi, your other high school best friend. You hadn't spoken to him since graduation; you made excuses like, 'things happen' or, 'life just got busy.' But you knew the truth: your best friend had gotten in with the wrong crowd and decided he didn't need you anymore.

You'd llike to say that you've completely moved on from those relationships. I mean, who still talks to their high school friends? Aren't those things supposed to fade away once you grow up and get a job? Despite all this, you could still feel something lingering in your heart. Something that told you you felt more than just friendship for Wakasa. You decide to shake off the thought.

This was getting pathetic. You decided you weren't going to rot in this stupid apartment anymore, throwing on your coat over your flannel pajamas and heading out your door with only your phone and your car keys.

Shivering, you started your busted up Honda Civic, thanking the gods when it stuttered to life. You pulled out of the parking lot and found yourself leaving the university grounds. Hopefully no one saw you leave the campus and reported you, but you couldn't care less in that moment.

As you drove with seemingly no destination, memories flooded your mind. The yogurt shop where the boys has taken you for your 16th birthday. Shinichiro's home garage where you'd sit and watch him fix up bixes for hours on end.

Without warning, you come to a halt. You recognize the place that you see out the front windshield. It's our spot, you think.

"Spot" was a subjective term. Really, it didn't belong to you in any way other than the memories you held from it. The spot in question was the mouth of an old alleyway which was long forgotten and hardly ever got any traffic. To its left was the edge of the city park, and to its right was a lake separating the north and south sides of the city. Spray paint letters (some of which you were sure had been written by you) covered the walls in an impressive display. You still remembered where you used to always sit: by the coast of the water, a few feet back on top of a stack of unused cement blocks.

It took you a few moments to get out of your car. It was cold out, and your fingers were frozen to the bone, but you needed to get out of your room, and you decided this was the best way to do it.

You stepped outside, grimacing at how the car door creaked when you slammed it.

You swore you could feel ghosts in your chest as you traced your fingers along the cracks in the cement. Had those always been there? Or had the building decayed even more since your glory days? The structure had always had such a bright place in your mind that you considered the possibility that you had forgotten how bad of shape it was in.

You shivered, pulling your thin coat tighter around your shoulders. The yellow lights that lit the corridor flickered ever so slightly, bugs scattering around them in search of warmth. Suddenly, you hear a faint sound behind you.

Click. Then faster, quieter. Click click.

You whir around, assuming a defensive position. Unfortunetely, this wasn't your first time encountering creepy men in the park.

Swinging your arm, you threw a crisp right hook. It landed in the grasp of a person's hand, and you winced, expecting the worst.

"Hey! Calm down princess, it's just me."

It took you a few seconds to register the face in front of you. He looked different now, taller and broader. His hair was grown out past his shoudlers, still the stame strawberry blond color but with streaks of purple, which you mentally noted to yourself. You never thought you'd see him with purple in his hair.

"Wakasa?"

The man in front of you— wow, it felt weird to call him that— had an unlit cigarette dangling between his teeth. You watched him tease the end of it with his tongue, tracing along the edge.

"Yours truly."

You were stunned. You never expected to even come here tonight, much less to see your old best friend here.

"Wakasa, what are you even doing here?" you question.

He shrugged, looking up at you with hooded eyes. "Dunno, I just neede to clear my head.” He paused, eyes traveling down your body and then back up to meet your gaze. "And what about you, princess?"

You rolled your eyes. "Stop calling me that. It's me for god's sake, Wakasa. Don't act all high and mighty just 'cause you're running with gangs and smoking weed now." Wakasa seemed slightly taken aback by your harsh words. I mean, yeah it was true, but it still stung to hear you talk to him like that. You started, "But anyways, I was just taking a drive and I ended up here."

Wakasa nodded, and a few moments of silence sat between the two of you; there was a stalemate.

"So?"

You blinked. "So?" you repeated. "So, what?"

Wakasa grinned an impish smile. "So, do you wanna get out of here? Maybe hit up a bar?"

Shaking your head, you pulled your coat tighter around your body. "No, you idiot, it's Christmas Eve, I'm not going out and getting drunk. Besides, there probably aren't any bars open."

"Hey, you're the one out on the streets at night, all alone."

You sighed with frustration. "Can we quit the bickering and go somewhere already? It's freezing."

Wakasa grinned wider, stuffing his cigarette in the pocket of his jacket. "Okay, here's the deal: we have a race, by bike versus your busted up little smart car. I win, we go drinking. You win, we go to bible study and make friendship bracelets like good girls."

You reached forward to punch his arm playfully, feigning anger although a smile lingered on your face. "Yeah, no. Get in my car, you idiot."

Wakasa didn't hesitate. You could tell he was probably getting cold by the way his cheeks were tinged with pink.

You slid into the driver’s seat with Wakasa across from you in the passenger. As you put the car into drive, it started making a high-pitched dinging sound.

“Oh no, oh no no no!!!” you exclaimed. Orange letters flashed on the small digital screen behind your wheel: FUEL EMPTY.

Wakasa leaned over towards you, inspecting the issue. “Ouch, princess. Guess you’re gonna have to start pushing.”

You glared at the blond. “No, I’m not. I’m going to call my friend to come bring me some gas.”

Suddenly, the interior lights flickered once, then twice, before giving up and leaving you in complete darkness.

“No fucking way.”

Your car battery had died.

You bent over to lean your head against the steering wheel. You set off the horn in doing so. Well, at least something’s working.

You were beginning to think this was karma for sneaking food out of the dining hall in plastic tupperware bins when Wakasa spoke up, “Guess we’ll have to take my ride.”

You looked up at him without picking up your head. “There’s no way in hell I’m getting on that death trap. I’d rather walk home.”

Wakasa snorted a laugh. “Well, that’s your only other option.”

You sat up and reached for your phone. “No, I’m just going to call a friend.”

Wakasa started to open the car door. “Yeah, right. No one is gonna come out here on Christmas Eve. They’re all spending their merry time with their beloved families,” he said. You couldn’t help but notice the almost resentful sound in his voice.

You huffed in frustration. “Okay, then I’ll sit here and wait for a passing traveller to see my car and hitch hike.”

Wakasa stepped out of the car, leaning down so he could talk still see you. “No way I’m letting you get in some random stranger’s car and get kidnapped.”

You sighed. “I’m not getting kidnapped, and besides, aren’t you just some random stranger too?”

He raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “You’re not getting in my car. You’re getting on it.”

You closed your eyes in frustration. He thought he was being so smug.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you finally resign to his efforts. “Okay, fine, I’ll go with you. But no highways, no back alleys, and we aren’t going any faster than thirty miles per hour. And you have to drive me back out here in the morning to get my car.”

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

Once you were outside the car, Wakasa took the bike off of the kickstand and waved a hand in front of him. “After you, my lady.”

Reluctantly, you swung your leg over the metal contraption and lowered yourself onto the seat. You were surprised at how comfortable it was, actually. But it would be better with a seatbelt and four walls, you thought.

Wakasa got on after you, sitting in front of you so he could drive. You realized then that there were no handlebars for the person sitting on the back, so you had to hold on to him. Well, shit. It wasn’t that you weren’t comfortable with doing that; you and Wakasa had been inseparable for so many years of your lives together. It was just that it had been so long since you had last been around him and you couldn’t imagine how different he would be by this point. Surely, gang life had gotten to him and had deteriorated his physical health, you thought.

“Hold on tight, okay?”

Hands shaking, you cautiously started to wrap your arms around his torso. You were right: gang life had changed him. His body was firm and toned, your aching cold hands being able to feel the lines of his abs through the thin material he was wearing.

Suddenly, you heard Wakasa laugh. Not a sarcastic huff this time, but a real, genuine laugh. “You’re going to need to hold on a lot tighter than that once we start going, princess.” God, you could practically hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh okay,” you managed to say. You could tell by the heat of your face in contrast to the cold weather that you were bulshing profusely.

“Oh yeah, one more thing,” you heard him say. He leaned over the front of the bike and picked something up from off the ground. It made a scraping sound that you recognized as metal on concrete. “Here you go.”

In his hands, he held a black riding helmet. You eyes moved from it to him and back to it. It was comically large, so big that you doubt it would even fit on a human head.

“I think I’m okay,” you say, trying to be polite.

“No way, princess, put it on.”

You huffed out a sigh. “Seriously? Why do I have to wear that stupid thing but you don’t?”

He shook his head, using both of his hands to fasten the helmet on your head. “Can’t risk damaging the precious cargo.” By this point, you knew you were as red as a tomato. Precious? Luckily, the helmet covered most of your face.

You felt the bike start to move. Slowly but surely, you were making your way out of the parking lot. Hey, this really isn’t so bad, you think.

As you coast down the road, you feel yourself admiring the new things you’ve seen of Wakasa— just little things, like his mannerisms and the way he smelled and the way he pulled his hair back. In this moment, you think you finally found some peace in your life. The past semester had been hell, between essays and shitty professors and your ex-boyfriend being an asshole.

Just when you were beginning to enjoy the feeling of the wind blowing over your face, the bike turned onto your street all too soon. You were surprised that Wakasa still remembered the same address you had told him all those eyars ago despite never having taken the time to visit your new apartment.

He pulled into your driveway, turning the bike’s engine off and stepping off the bike before offering you a hand of assistance. You accepted it, getting off the bike with a little bit of a stumble. After removing the helmet and leaning it against the sidewalk, you led him into your apartment.

“Here, go sit down and I’ll get you something to drink,” you say as you go around the small space, switching on the lights. Wakasa takes a seat at the little kitchen island and you see him inspecting the various pictures you have scattered around for decoration. He picked up a letter that had been trifolded and removed from an envelope earlier that morning, scanning it briefly.

“Wow, Honors society, huh? Smart girl,” Wakasa says. Walking up behind him, you snatch the paper out of his grasp.

“Hey, it’s illegal to steal other people’s mail,” you complain.

He raised his hands up in mock defense. “I’m innocent, I swear!”

You rolled your eyes at his dumb joke. Passing him, you go to your fridge, viewing your selection of beverages. “What do you want to drink?”

The blond shrugged. “Whatever you have.”

You passed him a glass of lemonade, complete with a cute little paper straw. He took a long drink from it before looking up at you. Although you were used to being around him, for some reason this eye contact felt more intense than ever before. He broke it first, looking down at his drink. “So, how’s your boyfriend?”

That was not the question you expected him to ask. She shake your head, “How did you even know about that?”

He pointed a finger towards the entry way to your apartment. “The framed photos. You’re with a guy in all of them.”

Your gaze dropped from him to the counter. Shit, you didn’t even think to take them down. Your life had been for too chaotic ever since you broke up with your ex to worry about decorations.

You stirred your straw in your drink, listening to the ice clink in the glass. “Well I’ve got questions for you too. Don’t think you’re getting off the hook about Shinichiro.”

Wakasa faltered and you could tell you hit a weak spot. Rubbing his hand over his face, he gave in, “Okay, fine. You answer my questions and I’ll answer yours.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. “Me and my ex broke up just a few weeks ago, actually.”

Wakasa nodded. “Real nice guy, breaking up with you right before the holidays.”

You snorted, “Yeah, right, he didn’t even know my favorite movie, probably, much less care about my feelings.”

“Notting Hill.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at such a random comment. “What?”

Wakasa shrugged. “Your favorite movie. It’s Notting Hill.”

You smiled a little. “You really remember that?” you ask.

He smiled back, “Of course, I remember watching it with you in 10th grade and you balling your eyes out.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay, okay.”

“Now it’s your turn to ask a question.”

If you were honest with yourself, you’d admit you didn’t want to ruin the moment that you were in right now. It felt really good to get to talk to your old best friend again, and you felt happier now than you had in a long time.

You shuffled your feet. “Okay. Why didn’t you come to Shinichiro’s funeral?”

Wakasa nods his head; he had been expecting the conversation to come back to this.

He shifted backwards in his chair. “My parents were really shitty at that time, and I was still living in their house . . . and you and Shin, you were all that I had. So to lose him, it was like losing a brother, and I couldn’t bear to—“ he pauses, considering his words. “I wasn’t brave enough to accept that he was gone.”

A pause. “I regret it every day, you know,” he begins. “I regret not saying a final goodbye to him, and I regret not being there for you. There was nothing I wanted more than to hold you in my arms . . . but I couldn’t— I wasn’t there for you.”

You’re stunned that he decided to share so much with you, but you were grateful nonetheless.

“Wakasa, you know I’ll always be there for you, right?” you said as you reached across the table to grasp his hand. It was warm, and you tried in that moment to memorize the way his hand felt in yours, just in case you never felt it again.

You feel him lean in, warmth radiating off his body. You could smell the deep wooden smell of his cologne and the light, delicate scent of his shampoo. Suddenly, his lips were on yours, warm and soft. You tensed up a little in surprise before keaning into the kiss, pushing and pulling in tandem with him. His free hand made his way into your hair, tugging lightly out of need. His other hand still held yours across the counter.

Eventually, you broke away from the kiss. Your head was racing with thoughts. What are we? How did this even happen?

You opened your eyes, looking up to meet Wakasa’s violet ones.

He went to lean in for another kiss, but you stopped him with a hand against his chest. You felt him pull away slightly. “Wakasa . . . I can’t— we can’t let this go on if you don’t tell me what this is, what we are. I want . . . I just can’t let this happen if I know you’re gonna run away again. I don’t think I can take that.” You see him falter, thinking over his words. “I want to be with you, Y/n, but I just . . . I don’t want to let myself go there and then end up hurting you. That’s the reason I’ve stayed away all these years. Between the gang and Shinichiro’s passing, i worried I was too volatile to be around you. It was too much of a risk to have me in your life, I mean, being with me might cost you your career and your fancy college degree . . . “

He watched a single tear roll down your cheek. He worried that his wods hurt you, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Waka’, I know you’d never hurt me—“

“I love you, Y/n. I always have— and it’s my job to protect you. So if you’re absolutely sure this is what you want, that you want to put up with me for a while . . . I’d love that more than anything.”

You decided to answer with a kiss, pulling him to you by the sleeve of his shirt. You allowed him to slot his tongue between your lips, tasting his lips as if they were the sweetest delicacy.

You pulled away to speak, nodding while you gazed into his eyes with tears in yours. “Yes, yes, I want to be with you. I never wanted you to leave in the first place.”

It was his turn to pull you in, slotting his lips against yours in a passionate display. His hands grabbed either side of your face, ever so gentle as his thumbs stoked your cheek.

Suddenly, he pulled away from the kiss. You worried there was somethign wrong. Opening his eyes, you met his as he began to speak. “Is this just like in your movies?”

You leaned over, belly laughing. It reminded you of the old days when there weren’t real world problems to deal with and all you had to worry about was your weekend plans with your two best friends. “Yeah, actually. It really is.”

And for the first time in a very long time, you felt a light, buzzing feeling in your chest that told you that this was right. This was where you wree meant to be.

[starryevermore]

tis the damn season ✧ jamie tartt

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

summary: he won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask him to stay. so he’ll go back to london and the so-called friends who’ll write books about him, if he ever makes it, and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles he’s faking. and the heart he knows he’s breaking is his own, to leave the warmest bed he’s ever known. 

word count: 4,850

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, (badly written) smut, unprotected sex, pinv sex, angst, breaking up, pining, not proofread

Jamie Tartt was not the type of man to fall in love. He didn’t think he was capable of it. Something about his heart, maybe. Something about how his dad made him feel like love was a weakness. That if he ever opened himself up to a person like that, his dad would be disappointed, and where there came disappointment… If he was a poet, he could probably say it more eloquently. But Jamie Tartt was a far cry from a poet. The best he could say was that he couldn’t love—no matter what, no matter who. 

And maybe that’s why it stung, just a little bit, when his mum mentioned you. 

He had come back up to Manchester for the holidays—something he seldom did, in an effort to avoid his dad. But he missed home, he missed his mum. And, besides, it was the holidays. There were no games to be played. No training he had to attend. It was kind of sad to be at the bars and clubs on Christmas. What else was he to do besides go home? Was there anything left for him in London? So, he came and prayed that James Tartt would be nowhere to be found. 

He was lucky in that regard, but all luck runs out eventually. 

“I saw that girl you used to go to school with when I went to the shop yesterday,” Georgie said when Jamie came down for dinner. Jamie grabbed one of the rolls Simon made, scarfing it down before grabbing a second. He watched his mum as he chewed, wondering where she was going with this. “Oh, what’s her name? The one who always had her nose in a book? You remember, the girl you always followed around like a puppy.”

Oh, Jamie remembered you. He remembered you quite well. You were his first actual girlfriend, back before he became a famous footballer. You didn’t care much for football, or the fact that Jamie’s right foot had been kissed by God and that he was well on his way of making a career out of the only thing he cared for. Well, okay, you did care about him achieving his dreams (had they been his dreams? or had all of it been something his father pushed on him? fuck—this is why he doesn’t come home for the holidays. it makes him think too much). But you cared more about him. You cared about how rocky road was his favorite ice cream flavor. You cared about how Disney movies were his favorite—and not the newer shit, the classic stuff. You cared about how he liked to be held and have his hair played with. You cared about how Jamie would try to read the books you loved just to try to understand you more. You cared, and he couldn’t, and that’s why it ended. 

He muttered your name before shoveling another forkful of food into his mouth. 

“That’s right! Sweet girl, she is, you know? Anyway, apparently she’s opened up this cute little book shop.”

“Why’re you telling me about this?” Jamie asked, mid-way through chewing his food. Simon gave him a disapproving look. Simon only looked disapproving when Jamie forgot his manners. But why should he give a fuck about manners? He was signed by Man City! He was such a good footballer that he got loaned out to Richmond to help their pathetic asses! Jamie Tartt could be a complete and utter prick, and nothing would ever go wrong. He could have anything, anyone he wanted. (Except, maybe, you.) 

“I stopped in the other day, during the big grand opening,” Georgie continued. “It was such a wonderful event. She even made cookies! You remember them? Those little peanut butter things that you would always beg for? Oh, Simon might have cracked the code on the recipe!” She nudged Simon with her elbow. “‘Course, he could always just ask for the recipe. I’m sure she would be happy to give it. But he has to do everything himself!”

Jamie stared at his mum. She would get to her point eventually. No need in him saying anything until she reached it. 

“Anyways, she was asking about you. Said she hoped you were doing well. I told her you were, that you were doing well at Richmond. But I think you should stop by her shop. It would be nice to see her, wouldn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Don’t really talk to her anymore, y’know? Haven’t for years. Be kinda weird to show up now.”

“Just think about it, okay? I think she’d be happy to see you.”

He shrugged, again. If Jamie was honest with himself, he would agree it would be nice to see you. But…Well, the last time he saw you, he hadn’t exactly left on good terms. 

Six Years Ago…

Jamie couldn’t meet your gaze. If he looked you in the eyes, he would falter. If he faltered, he would never make it out of here. And, fuck, he really needed to make it out of here. But when you spoke to him, your voice quivering ever so slightly, he nearly broke his resolve. 

“What are you saying, JamJam?”

Okay. Okay, that he could focus on. Direct his frustrations to that. If he made a big deal out of that, he could stamp down all of the other awful feelings he had towards that. 

“Don’t call me that. I hate it when you call me that,” Jamie lied. 

A frown settled on your face. You took a step towards him, reaching out. He took a step back. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. Why are you doing this?”

Jamie looked away again. Fuck, he really couldn’t do this. How do other people break up so easily? His dad had no problem leaving his mum. Why was he having so much trouble leaving you? He tried to think back to something his dad had said—anything his dad had said—when he was having horrible, blow out fights with his mum that Jamie couldn’t ignore no matter how many times he tried stuffing his ears. But his mind was drawing a blank. 

He couldn’t think straight when he was with you. 

“Well? Are you going to say something or are you going to keep acting like a dick?”

He sucked in a breath and settled on, “I can’t be with someone like you anymore. Would look bad for my career.”

“Your career…?” you repeated. You shook your head, like you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Is this really because you’ve signed to Man City?”

Jamie shrugged. He didn’t know what he could say to you. Anything that came out of his mouth would only make things worse. Not that this was really going well. But he couldn’t…He didn’t want to break your heart, not really. He’d wanted this to be a clean break. Something that you’d understand, and you’d let him go. But everything he said just made it harder and harder to go. 

“Because if it is, you really are the biggest fucking prick I’ve ever met,” you continued. “Like, seriously? You finally start making it big and you want to throw everything from your old, poor life behind? What’s next? You’re gonna tell Georgie you won’t take her calls anymore? Pretend that you never knew any of us?”

“Don’t talk about my mum.” Ugh, fuck. This was going worse than he ever could have imagined. He looked back at you, trying to give you the most disinterested look he could manage. “Just get outta here. I don’t have time for this anymore.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You are a fucking prick. What, you’ll defend your mum but rag on me? That’s spineless, Jamie. If you want to break up with me because you’re going to be too famous for me, just fucking say so.”

Shit. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go. He didn’t want to make you angry. He just…He wanted you to understand. (But understand what? That he was a spineless coward, letting his dad’s words about not needing to be tied down when he entered the big leagues get to his head?) “Always been a prick. You’re just finally catching up with everyone else.”

You rolled your eyes again. With a shake of your head, you said, “You know what? I hope this is all worth it. Making me hate you before you leave. Because now all I can think when I see you is that I can’t believe I wasted my time with a guy who can’t even be honest with me.”

Jamie bit his tongue, holding back everything he wanted to say to you. To tell you the truth, to apologize and get on his knees and grovel until you forgave him. But instead, he only looked away. “Whatever.”

For a long moment, you stared at him, not saying a word. Probably waiting for him to make the first move, to see if he was going to actually let you in. But when he didn’t, you only shook your head, turned, and left. 

Jamie stood there, listening to you go down the stairs, shout a goodbye at Georgie, then the door shut. A minute later, his mum came up the stairs, poking her head in. She tutted when she saw all of his things strewn about the room, not even close to being finished packing. 

“I thought she was going to help you pack? You two get distracted again?” Georgie asked. 

“Something like that,” Jamie grumbled. He grabbed his duffel bag, starting to shove his shirts in it. “Don’t gotta worry about that no more. She won’t distract me anymore.”

Georgie frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Jamie looked out the window, catching a glimpse of you as you walked down the street to your own home. “Just don’t gotta worry anymore. We won’t be seeing her around anymore.”

And, oh, how he hated himself for that. But he would never admit it. He’d rather lie to himself, convince himself that this was a good thing, than admit that he just made what was, perhaps, the biggest mistake of his life. 

“I’m going out a run,” Jamie said when dinner was finished and Simon began to collect the plates to be washed. 

Georgie rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Can take my boy away from the game, but can’t take the game out of my boy,” she teased, reaching over and pinching one of his cheeks. Jamie let out a chuckle at the gesture. More seriously, she said, “Be careful. And make sure you have your phone on ya, yeah? Just ‘cause you’re a big footballer now, doesn’t mean that you can’t get into trouble.”

Jamie nodded, not really listening. He just needed to get out of there, if only for an hour or two. He loved his mum, yeah, but something about how the conversation turned to you really unnerved him. He’d done just fine not thinking about you for the last however many years. But now that you were forced back into his brain, he couldn’t figure out how to shake you out. So, he slipped on his trainers, pulled on a jacket, and shouted his goodbye to his mum and Simon before disappearing into the night. 

He wasn’t quite sure where he was heading. It was like his feet had a mind of his own, taking him wherever they pleased. And who was he to judge? After all, his feet made his fucking career. Without his feet, he would have nothing. So, if they wanted to take him on a tour of Manchester, fine by him. It’s just…Well, he’d prefer it if the tour didn’t end right outside of your bookshop. 

Jamie stared at the “open” sign for a long time. It was odd for a shop to be open so late, but you always were a night owl. You thrived when the sun went down. (His heart hurt when he realized just how easy it was to recall such simple details like that. How, even after all these years, he still knew you like the back of his hand.) 

There was a strong urge to keep running. To jog right past your shop and pretend that he never saw it. That he was never tempted to see you again, no matter how much his heart earned to just hear you one last time. It would be easier that way. Jamie had no idea what you felt towards him. If the anger still simmered from that fight. If your heart still earned for him, too. If you didn’t feel anything towards him at all—not love, not hatred, not anything. But there was a stronger urge to push open that shop, if only to get a glimpse of your face. He didn’t have to say anything. He could pretend he was at the wrong place, turn and run before you could even realize who was there. (He couldn’t do that, though. If he was going to commit, he had to commit. There was no backing out. If he was going to see you, he was going to see you.) 

Holding his breath, Jamie pushed open the door, a little bell jingling as it swung. 

There was no turning back now. 

“We’re about to close!” you shouted from somewhere in the back of the shop. “So unless you know exactly what you’re looking for and where to find it, go ahead and head on out!”

Jamie followed the sound of your voice, finding you in the back corner of the shop. It was a cute little knitting corner, with loads of yarn and needles and books of patterns. There was a long table, with a bunch of seats around it. Did people come here to knit? That was kind of cute. Jamie wondered, briefly, if you knew how to knit, and if maybe you could teach him. He’d like to have something to do with his hands when he had moments to relax. 

And you…God, you looked even more beautiful than the last time he saw you. How was that even possible? 

You weren’t even trying to look beautiful. Your hair was tied up, out of your face. Some strands had fallen loose. On anyone else, it might have made them look disheveled. But on you? It made you look like a goddess. You wore a large white sweater (had you made it in this little knitting corner?) and a long patterned skirt. From the bottom of your skirt, he could see a pair of socks peeking out. They looked like those sort of socks that had famous paintings printed on them. Jamie didn’t really know the names of any famous paintings, so he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. To top it all off, you wore the same chunky white trainers you’d worn the last time he ever saw you. Adorable, and practical—a perfect description of everything he knew you to be. 

“Thought you were gonna be a doctor somethin’,” Jamie said, tearing his eyes away from you and at the rows and rows of shelves. The shelves had little chalkboard signs above them with the genre written on them. They had a little bit of artwork corresponding to the genre, too. A bloody knife and the scream mask for horror, some hearts and flowers for romance, what looked to be an impressive portrait of Gandalf for fantasy. Did you draw them? He didn’t remember you being very artistic, and he thought he knew everything there was to know about you. Maybe he didn’t know much of you at all anymore. 

When you turned, there was shock clearly written all over your face. Your brows were raised, your mouth dropped open. You looked at him almost like you’d seen a ghost. Like, of all the people that could’ve shown up in your shop, he was the very last person you’d ever think to see. Maybe that was his fault. 

But then you smiled at him. He liked your smile. It wasn’t like the strange, uncanny smiles of the models he surrounded himself with—all perfectly straight, so white it could blind him. No, your teeth were natural, and perfect. “It didn’t make me happy like I thought it would.”

“Ah.” He didn’t really understand that. Was the point of a career to be happy? Wasn’t it just to make loads of money? To get your parents off your back? 

“And are you? Happy, I mean? Playing football.”

Jamie paused. That was an odd question. “I’m a top scorer at Richmond. At the last game, I—”

You held up your hand, signaling for him to stop talking. His mouth shut, and you said, “Jamie, I didn’t ask for your stats. If I wanted to know those, I could look them up myself. I asked if you were happy.”

Jamie paused again. He wasn’t quite sure the answer to that question. The only other person who ever really cared about that was his mum, and she’d been too excited to see him to ask that question yet. Was he happy? What did being happy really mean? “I don’t know.”

You frowned. Oh, he hated that. You frowning, he means, but also that look you were giving him. How your brows were pinched together, how you stared at him like you could see straight into his soul. You probably could. You’d always been smart like that. If there was anyone who could figure out a way to see into the thoughts, feelings, character of people…Well, it would have to be you. Or maybe his mum. But definitely you. 

“Oh, Jamie.”

And there it was. Perhaps the reason he found himself standing in your little shop just as it was closing. Perhaps the reason he couldn’t get you out of his head. Perhaps the reason that, even after all these years, all he could think about was how badly he fucked this. 

You stepped toward him, wrapping your arms around him. You pulled his face down into the crook of your neck. If you were anyone else, he might have wrenched away, told you to fuck off. But it was you, and he liked the way you smelled of roses, vanilla, and freshly brewed coffee. So he let himself wrap his arms around your waist, to take the moment to inhale your scent as he stood in your embrace. 

Being that close to you…He couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to your neck, pressing another when he heard you gasp. You were always so sensitive, so easy to rile up. A bit of pride swelled in his chest, knowing that he had all the right buttons to press memorized. He kissed up your neck, down your jaw, pausing just as his lips were about to meet yours.

“Stop me,” he whispered. He didn’t want you to, not really. But he wanted you to know you had a way out. That you were in control. 

Instead, you kissed him. A small moan escaped your lips. Fuck, he always loved the little noises you would make for him. He used to make a game of it, to see how quickly he could make you cry and whimper and whine for him. 

His hands fell to your waist, gripping it tight as he lifted you up onto the table. Your legs wrapped around his hips and tugged him closer. He grew hard, just from being this close to you. Fuck, he had really missed you. Missed this. What had he been thinking all those years ago to let you go? 

“Fuck me, Jamie, please,” you whined, reaching down, fiddling with his zipper. 

“Don’t got a condom—” he started to say when he remembered that he’d left his wallet at home. (How could he not have a condom?) As much as he wanted this, he didn’t want to take any risks. At least, not without you being okay with it.

“Don’t care. ‘m on the pill.”

“You sure?”

“Quit talking and fuck me, please,” you grumbled, nipping at his lips.

Jamie let out a chuckle, helping you free his cock from his pants. He pushed your skirt up, pulled your panties to the side to see if you were ready for him. A smirk settled on his face as he felt how wet you were. “Desperate for me, huh?” he teased, pressing kisses down your jaw. 

“Can you blame me?”

“Not one bit.”

He pushed his cock past your slick folds, groaning at the feeling. God, he’d forgotten how tight your pussy was. How you clenched around him with every thrust, how you sucked him back in, determined to take every last inch. 

“You're fucking perfect, love,” he said, panting with each thrust. “Dunno why I left you. Shoulda stayed. Shoulda been content with you.”

Your brows pinched together—whether from the pleasure or from his confession, he wasn’t too sure. Your mouth opened, ready to say something, but his cock hit that spongy spot deep in your cunt and a moan escaped instead. Your arms wrapped around him, your nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. “Y-You don’t mean that,” you gasped, your eyes squeezed shut. 

“I do. I do—” Jamie pulled you closer, his thrusts growing shallower. He reached between your legs, thumb settling on your clit, rubbing his fast circles, helping you reach your high with him. “You mean everything to me. Always fucking have.”

“JamJam—” you said, your voice growing louder as he hit that sensitive spot again, and again, and again. His heart stuttered at the nickname. He thought he would never hear it again, never hear you call him that again. Whatever you were going to say next was lost in a moan so loud you nearly screamed, cumming around him, squeezing the life out of his cock.

Jamie came not long after, his head falling to the crook of your neck, a groan escaping his lips. He pressed a kiss to your neck, staying like that for just a moment, trying to commit it to memory. “I mean it. Shoulda stayed.”

You pressed against his shoulder. He pulled away with a frown. You offered a small smile. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better. This was enough.”

He took a moment to tuck his softening cock away to try and collect his thoughts. How could you not understand that he was being genuine? Did you really think he was the sort of guy who’d say things he didn’t mean just to have sex with you? (Though, to be fair, he was that sort of guy. But not with you, never with you. You were the only person who could ever get the genuine side of him.) 

“I want to stay with you forever. To throw it all away.”

You stayed silent, sensing that this mind was working too fast for him to figure out how to say all the things he wanted to say. So, you let him stand there and process. You were always so good about that. Would always give him the room to figure things out instead of making him feel like an idiot for not knowing to talk about the hard things. 

Jamie’s hands came to rest on your hips as you stayed there in the silence. He rubbed small circles on the bit of exposed skin that appeared when your sweater became untucked from your skirt in all the madness. He liked this. He liked soft moments with you. When he was younger, he used to swear he would bottle them all up and keep them forever. He liked it then, and he liked it now. But, as he stood there with you, it all began to weight down on him. This scared him. This kind of commitment he was willing to give you…It could never work out. 

“But I can’t stay,” he whispered.

You reached up, caressing his face, running your fingers through his hair. He let himself shut his eyes, to enjoy the moment. He knew it wouldn’t last. “I know.”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. You stilled, your fingers no longer scratching at his scalp. “It’s too hard to leave now.”

“Oh, Jamie—”

“But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t get you outta my fucking head. Didn’t even mean to show up here, but it’s like my feet were working all on their own. Like they had their own brain or somethin’, I don’t know.”

You scratched at his scalp again, dragging your nails and soothing him. “It’s alright, Jamie. I never thought you were going to stick around. You were always meant for more.”

Jamie sniffled. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck so you couldn’t see his face. He pretended like he didn’t know you could feel the tears trickling out of his eyes. “You’re enough, though. You’re more than enough for me.”

“But you can’t stay,” you finished his thought.

“I’m nothing without football. There isn’t anything else I can do. I’m not brilliant like you,” he mumbled. “I can’t just leave what I’d been working for my entire life and open a book shop because it makes me happy.”

“Football doesn’t make you happy anymore?”

“It does, but you make me happier.” He looked up, letting you see the tears rolling down his cheeks.

You caressed his face, your thumb rubbing the swell of his cheek. A tear smeared across his face as you did so. “JamJam, you’ve always been meant for more. But if that’s not what you want anymore…It’s okay to leave those things behind. It’ll hurt, it’ll suck, but if it means you’ll be happier…It’ll always be worth it.”

Jamie shook his head. No. You didn’t understand. How could you? You didn’t have to deal with his dad. You didn’t have the same expectations, the same level of scrutiny. If the media found out he left football for this life, a simple life, then they’d never let him have a day of peace. They would still follow him around, talk shit about everything he did. And, God, if they found out about you…You didn’t deserve that kind of hatred they’d spew. He couldn’t ruin your peace for his own selfish reasons. 

“You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me, JamJam. Help me understand.”

He pushed himself away, turned his back to you. He couldn’t do this. “I have to leave.”

You followed after him. But when you reached out for him, he jerked away. “JamJam…Jamie, I love you. I have always loved you, but if you runaway right now…I don’t know that I can let you in again.”

Jamie swallowed thickly. He hated this. He hated it so much, but it was what he needed to do. He had to do this, no matter how much his heart and his brain screamed at him otherwise. “That’s probably for the best.”

When you didn’t say anymore, he started to walk away. With every step he took, it felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind. He fought every instinct to look back at you, to come running into your arms, to tell you he was an idiot and he could never leave you again. 

“Jamie?” you called out. He paused in his step, but didn’t turn. “Is this because you think being with someone like me will hurt your career?”

The tears started to well up in his eyes again. He was grateful you couldn’t see his face, that you couldn’t tell how much this was hurting him. He didn’t want to taint this moment anymore than he already was. “That was never true. You…you were always more amazing than I ever deserved. You should be with someone better than me.”

You were silent for a beat, then two. For a second, he wondered if you even heard him. Should he repeat himself? Or would that just make things worse? Finally, you said, “Goodbye, Jamie.”

“Goodbye, love.”

He left the shop without turning back. But, as he crossed the street, he turned. Watched as the lights in the shop slowly turned off. As you came out, locking the door behind you. He almost ducked behind a lamppost, not wanting you to realize he was still hanging around. But he didn’t, letting you see him as you turned around. You offered him a sad smile and a wave before turning and walking away. Away from him, from his life, forever. 

Jamie opened his mouth, ready to call out to you. But he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. You deserved better than a man who always so hot and cold with you. So, he turned, too, and began to jog back home. Maybe if he was lucky, Simon would still have some of those peanut butter cookies leftover. That could be good for him. 

Yeah, that could be good. 

[writingxfootballl]

don’t wait for some day (kiss her you fool)  (leah williamson x reader)

Why is there so much mistletoe everywhere?

Word count: 1105 ish

Ratings: H for happy holidays!

Title: kiss her you fool by kids that fly

——

As soon as you walk into training you groan. 

“Seriously guys? Get a room or something.” 

Beth pulls away from Viv to shoot you a glare. 

“There was a mistletoe. What else were we supposed to do?” 

You follow her finger up towards the ceiling and roll your eyes. 

“Very funny guys, but you know I’m going to have to take that down.” 

Beth pouts at you. 

“You’re no fun.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Yeah yeah I’m the Grinch I get it. But no training is going to get done if everyone keeps making out everywhere.” 

Viv butts in. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re single.” 

You scoff. 

“Me being single has nothing to do with this.” 

Beth smirks. 

“Orrrr it’s because she’s upset over a certain blonde-“

You cut her off by walking away and throwing up your arms. 

“Okay- Enough! I’m going to go get the ladder.” 

The two forwards share a look that you miss. 

“Order more mistletoe?” 

“Already on it.” 

~~

As you’re walking to the locker room the next day, you run into Leah in the doorway.

Your heart races a little at the meeting but you stifle it down like you’ve done for the past years, instead giving her a smile and saying:

“Team meeting in five.” 

Leah nods towards the field. 

“Already on my way there captain.” 

You’re pretty sure Leah can see the way your face flushes at that. You clear your throat and say: 

“I’ll see you there.”

Leah nods and heads out, leaving you swallowing drying after her. 

~~

You remember when you first met, years ago back when you both played for different youth teams. 

Your first meeting was in a friendly between Arsenal and Manchester City that quickly turned physical, and you had scars on your legs to prove it. 

The up and coming midfielder at the time was tackling you poorly, leaving you wincing in constantly on the ground, and drawing a lot of fouls. 

One particularly poor tackle left you crying in pain beneath her, a cleat mark showing on your left thigh.

Even then, you didn’t meet—officially. 

It was after the game that you did.

While you made your way to the locker room, you were almost knocked over by a flash of red.

Leah looked so distraught that you had to ask her if she was okay. 

But she didn’t even hear you, considering the midfielder was sputtering so many apologies as she rushed to check on your leg. 

After a long while of reassurance that you were in fact fine, Leah, with a flushed face, finally introduced herself to you. 

You shook her hand and gulped. 

You were smitten from the start.

Eventually, you would go on to join Arsenal on loan, where you’d meet again. 

The very first day you caught the eyes of the now defender, who immediately sauntered over to introduce herself.

You, being completely forgetful, didn’t recognize her, until her hand was in yours. 

That handshake brought you back five years, to that one game on the field. 

The once awkward teen was now stunning and radiant, and you honestly felt like the breath got knocked out of you. 

“Nice to see you again, Y/N.”

“Likewise, Leah.” 

Safe to say, you stuck with Arsenal after that year. 

As you and Leah got closer over the years both on and off the field, your feelings for her grew and grew.

You stole glances at her whenever you could, not very subtly, considering that everyone else on the team could tell. 

Beth had bet the rest of the team that you’d get together by the end of Christmas, and she was adamant on winning. 

If nothing else could bring you together, maybe mistletoe would. 

~~

You shook your head as you made it onto the field. 

“Alright. Who did this?”

You were met with snickers by the team, all of which had seen the green plant hanging from the goalpost. 

You shake your head even more. 

“No more mistletoe at training. Got it?”

A quiet agreeing murmur broke out, but you could see the mischievous smile on Beth’s face, and you knew you were in for it. 

And you were right. 

Day after day, more and more mistletoe popped up around the stadium. 

They were like hydra heads, for every one you took down, two more seemed to show up in its place. 

Eventually, you gave up. 

By this point the locker room ceiling was filled with the plant, and you had to knock before going in to avoid seeing your teammates going at it. 

So far, you had the luck of not standing under it with anyone. You really didn’t want to have that conversation with anyone. 

But eventually, your luck would run out.

Or not, depending on how you looked at it. 

As you were making your way to Jonas’s office one day, you passed by Leah. 

The defender caught your arm, making you abruptly stop, and your heart caught in your throat when you saw what she was pointing to. 

Right above your head, where the two of you stood, in all its glory, was another mistletoe. 

You gulped and your heart was pounding. 

Leah was looking at you expectantly and that made you even more nervous. 

You started rambling. 

“I mean it’s just a stupid tradition. I’m sure nothing would happen if we, I mean unless you want- I mean we don’t have to-“

Leah’s soft “shut up” made you close your mouth. 

“For a captain you sure are dense aren’t you?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in puzzlement. 

“What?”

Leah chuckles and just grabs your face.

“Kiss me already.”

You don’t wait for another second before leaning in.

It’s only when air becomes an issue that you pull away, your cheeks flushing as you do so. 

Leah’s soft smile makes it all worth it.

“I’ve been flirting with you since you joined Arsenal you know.”

Your look of surprise makes her laugh. 

“I didn’t know how else to get you to respond so…”

It’s your turn to laugh this time. 

“So you put mistletoe everywhere just so you could kiss me?”

Leah says a little embarrassed:

“I mean Beth and Viv helped a little too.”

Your smile is blinding. 

“Go on a date with me then?”

Leah nods before kissing you again.

“Of course.” 

And just before your lips meet, your eyes trail up to the ceiling back to the plant that started it all. 

You wouldn’t mind leaving this one up after all. 

[kuiilandtorch]

I didn't want to do this, especially on Christmas Day when mostly everyone is with family and/or friends enjoying the holiday or at least hopefully chilling at home, but as I've moved cross-country and am between employment, it's looking like the rental reimbursement check I'm expecting from my former property management won't arrive in time for my next bill this coming Wednesday. I've already postponed payment on a loan last week and things will continue to cascade the longer that check takes to show up. If there's any possibility any of you out there can spare some funds and I can have enough small contributions, maybe I could make the $200 I need to pay and avoid missing another bill. You can find my ko-fi page HERE, my PayPal page HERE, and if you prefer to use Venmo (which also won't take any fees from me), you can DM me for my handle. I know this is a long shot, but I'm even though I'm blessed to be spending my holidays with friends kind enough to take care of me and give me a place to stay in my new location, I'm still stressing out over money. I should be getting my reimbursement eventually, but it's a matter of timing. Thank you for your consideration and have a Merry Christmas or a happy holiday or at least some restful time off, wherever y'all are.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Christmas/Holidays/New Year's Eve Masterlist

In the mood for some winter fluff? Look no further than these curated picks from my collection.

General Winter Imagines

Arthur Curry x Reader

Sweater Weather - Fluff

When it gets colder outside, the king of the sea loans you his sweater.

Jack Frost x Reader

Snowflake - Fluff, Soulmate AU

Your soulmark is a snowflake, and thus, winter easily became your favorite season. However, you have a good feeling about winter this year, a tingly feeling that makes your mark glow...

Tired of Gray - Fluff, Soulmate AU

It’s Christmas time and you’re just about sick of your gray, gray world. Luckily, your soulmate is known to visit in the winter.

Christmas/Holiday Imagines

Bernard the Elf x Reader

The Way it Was Before - Alternate Universe, Bernard exists during Escape Clause Plot, Magic!Reader, a light angst, a lot of fluff.

Something is VERY wrong this Christmas, and it seems you’re the only person in the world who remembers the way things were before. Well, almost the only person. It’s up to you and the Head Elf to save the day before Jack’s wish becomes irreversible.

Home for the Holidays - Fluff, Christmas, Santa’s Daughter!Reader

When you come home for Christmas, Bernard realizes that you’re the reincarnation of someone very dear to him.

All I Want For Christmas - Fluff, Christmas, Santa’s Daughter!Reader

Being Santa Claus’ daughter, it was only inevitable that you’d catch feelings for his head elf…

Dear Santa… - Fluff, Writer Elf!Reader

The writing department has been especially short on elves this year, and this means you find yourself responsible for writing a whole bunch of letters. Luckily, the head elf has his eye on you.

Druig x Reader

Merry Little Christmas - Fluff, Christmas, GN! Reader

Christmas with the Eternals is a little extra special this year because of a certain mind-controlling telepath…

Prince Eric (Barbie in the Nutcracker)

Real - Fluff, Christmas

After arriving back in your living room, you’re startled to find out that the previous night was real, Mouse King, Nutcracker, and all.

Home - Fluff, Christmas

The locket is supposed to take you home, but in your heart, you know you’re already there.

Steve Harrington x Reader

About Time - Fluff, Soulmate AU, Time Travel

You discover a time-traveling wormhole in your closet and a hot guy from the 80′s on the other side of it.

Steve Rogers x Reader

The Nutcracker - Fluff, Ballerina!Reader

When your winter recital finally comes around, Steve is more than happy to support you.

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Merry Christmas, Darling - Fluff, Christmas, Mutant!Reader, Gender Neutral!Reader

The Holidays are in full swing at the X Mansion, and as always, you are tasked with helping run the place. But things are a lot less dull with a certain winged mutant around.

Santa Baby - Fluff, Christmas

You use the power of invisibility to put a Santa hat on each of the X-Men. 

New Year's Eve Kisses

New Year’s Eve Kisses 2017 - Steve Harrington, Marty McFly, Edmund Pevensie, Thackery Binx, Wanda Maximoff

New Year’s Eve Kisses 2020 - Alex Vreeke (Jumanji), Jack Frost, Ben Tennyson, Diaval, Peeta Mellark

New Year’s Eve Kisses 2021 - Bernard the Elf, Bucky Barnes, Diana Prince, Killian Jones, Pietro Maximoff

New Year’s Eve Kisses 2022 - Eddie Munson, Druig, Kili, Neville Longbottom, Peter Pan

[i-mean-technically]

an exchange of culture

a small fic for an event in my server!

“Merry Christmas, Optimus!”

The cheery shout drew everyone’s attention to the pink striped girl, who was wearing a bright red hat with white trim. Next to her was Raf with a shy grin and gripping something in his hand and dark-haired Jack with silver frills in a necklace wrapped around him.

“Good morning, Miko,” Optimus returned, having a vague idea of what she was referring to. “Your hat is well-made.”

She grinned brightly up at him, bouncing in place. “Thanks! Ms. Darby showed me how to use a sewing machine. I made it myself.”

“An impressive feat,” Optimus replied, feeling a small smile tug at his lips. The children were always bringing something new into their lives, and always kept things from getting dull. “Is there a special occasion for your attire?”

Somehow Miko’s smile got even wider. “It’s Christmas! Best holiday America came up with.”

Agent Fowler snorted from where he was typing up a report. “She’s not wrong,” he called out, not looking up from squinting at his screen.

“It has turned into a capitalist nightmare,” Jack agreed with a tilt of his head, and Optimus saw him twitch when his skin touched the silver necklace.

“Fuck the government!”

“Language!” Many voices said at once, and Optimus turned down the sensitivity of his audials once again.

“Isn’t Fowler legally required to arrest you now?”

“This place technically doesn’t exist.” Fowler still hasn’t looked away from the monitor.

“That means no rules!”

“Upt, upt, upt! There are rules. Many, in fact!” Ratchet had his hands on hips and was frowning down at the children.

“Not that Miko actually follows them,” Jack teased. Optimus was glad that the boy-no, young man, had grown comfortable enough to do so. Even just a few months ago Jack would have stayed silent, hanging back from them.

“Psh,” Miko waved her hand at Ratchet and Optimus had to hide a smile at the indignant expression on his old friend’s face. “Rules suck, and presents are awesome.”

That got every one of his Autobot’s attention. **Presents? For us?** Bumblebee asked, doorwings hiking up in excitement.

Optimus found himself intrigued as well. No one has gotten a gift in… a long time. Their current base was technically a loan, as was most of their equipment. A gift, from their young charges…

Something warm bubbled in his chest, spark feeling too big for its casing.

“Yep!” Miko was beaming, eyes nearly glowing. Jack and Raf drew up behind her as Optimus felt his bots gather around the balcony. He knew that she couldn’t understand the young scout, but it wasn’t hard to guess what could have been said. “We didn’t really know what to get giant alien robots sooooo we’re kinda just winging it.”

“And Raf’s really the only one who celebrates anyway,” Jack added.

“I thought it was something all humans did,” Bulkhead said, sounding confused. Optimus was as well.

“A lot of humans, sure,” Jack said with a shrug before scowling and lifting the necklace off and placing it over Raf’s head like a crown. “But my dad was Jewish and Mom doesn’t celebrate any holidays.”

“I’m not Christian,” Miko said with a shrug. “Doesn’t stop me from wanting to do presents though.”

“It’s pretty big in my family,” Raf said, smiling up at them. “Christmas is the one time of year that everyone comes home and is together. We celebrate family more than Jesus.”

“And you’re family!” Miko said before Optimus could ask more about Jesus from the point of view of the children. “So we’re celebrating together.”

“Everyone comes home, huh?” Bulkhead murmured with a sad sort of smile that had grief pulling down at Optimus’ spark.

“Yep,” Jack said. The way he said it got everyone’s attention. “Bulkhead’s present is first, special delivery even.”

Optimus could feel the confusion spread around them just before the proximity alarm goes off and Wheeljack comes screeching into the base later.

He transformed with a flourish, walking towards Optimus and his stunned Autobots. He spread his arms and a smirk crossed his scarred face. “Why the long faces? Did the party get canceled?”

Bulkhead shook off his shock first and released a booming laugh, rushing towards his friend. “Ha ha! Jackie!”

Optimus stood back near the humans as his Autobots, his family, came together eagerly. He glanced down at Jack, noticing that Miko was already racing towards the reunited Wreckers. “This was very kind of you to do, Jack.”

The young man shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. “Miko wanted to have a party, and get a gift for Bulkhead. Raf’s the one who found Wheeljack’s comm.”

The warmth in Optimus’ spark spread to the rest of his body, and he very carefully reached out to tap Jack on the top of his head. “Merry Christmas, Jack Darby.”

Jack grinned up at Optimus. “Happy holidays, Optimus Prime.”

[johnnycrass]

currently have more money to my name than i literally ever have had. but my loan payments are soon and rent is real and food is expensive in america i forgot it was expensive here idk why i thought that was gonna vanish or something while i was gone but its still the same. anyways i cant let myself get too comfortable. im back on my gym grind (and it feels so good instead of horrible as i was expecting) and working 8 am to 6 pm everyday until my school job gives me that holiday break at which point i'll just work the part time until christmas. then i will be getting heavily tattooed

[the-whispers-of-death]

Save Me From Myself (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male COD OC "Stone" Summary: It was Christmas Eve, almost Christmas, and everyone in the Task Force 141 is home for the holidays. Everyone except two. One man who's rather guarded at first, and the other who's so guarded that he's hasn't been vulnerable in a... long time. They're now the only two on base during a month-long holiday break. Can Ghost change Stone's ways and make him see that he's worthy of care and love? Word Count: 1,453 words Content: Angst, so much angst, cursing, eventual mention of rape, mentions of child abuse and neglect, eventual mention of self-harm, ftm!OC, American!OC, Desi!OC, eventual mention of transphobia and homophobia, inaccurate military and medical speak/procedure. Author's Note: This is my first writing on here and it's not beta read so hopefully there's not too many mistakes or errors. This was originally going to an angsty-turned-fluffy one-shot, but then I really got into the groove and couldn't not make this into an entire fic. This features my COD OC Stone, who is a second-generation American with Indian heritage. Note that while I am a first-generation American with Indian heritage, my knowledge of the Indian culture is... lacking, to say the least, but Stone has more of the Indian culture embedded into his personality, so I'll be trying my best to represent it as best as possible. If I get anything wrong with the Desi culture, please (respectfully) tell me. Any (respectful) criticism of my work is deeply appreciated!

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

The halls of the SAS base where the Task Force 141 were currently holed up due to them heading to the UK, so their soldiers could go home for the holidays, were empty. Silent.

Everyone in the base and the Task Force were gone, back home to their families. Except two.

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley and a U.S. Fleet Marine Corpsman who was simply known as “Stone”.

Stone was on loan to the Task Force because a), the Task Force needed a medic, and b), the U.S. Navy wanted to demonstrate that their country was still good friends with the UK, so they lent one of their best Navy Corpsmen to the Task Force as a gesture of goodwill. He was an intimidating man to say the least; six feet and eight inches tall, more burly than muscular, his brown skin was marred head to toe in old battle scars, and he was cold and stoic. He roamed the halls silently, almost always only speaking when he was patching up a soldier and always he wore a muzzle-like mask due to his past of biting fellow soldiers.

To say he wasn’t making any friends in the Task Force was an understatement, but Captain John Price thought his skills in the battlefield and in the infirmary outweighed his lack of camaraderie.

Stone was currently sitting in his office in the infirmary, doing paperwork despite it being the 24th of December, Christmas Eve. Due to being in the U.S. Navy for fifteen years, he was at the rank of E-7, or Chief Hospital Corpsman, and despite the fact that he was an American in a British SAS base, he was the highest-ranking medic in the infirmary. So, there was a lot of paperwork for him to do and not even it being Christmas Eve would stop him from doing it.

“You don’t have any family to go home to, Doc?” Ghost asked, silently appearing in the doorway, his footsteps being so quiet. He peered into the office, his black balaclava and white skull mask covering his entire face and facial features save for his dark, molten brown eyes. He leaned against the frame of the doorway, his demeanor cool as always.

Stone looked up from his paperwork, not even visibly startled as his face underneath his muzzle-like mask remained impassive as always. “Was told by the SAS higher-ups I could fly home for the holidays, but I figured it was a waste of plane fuel,” he replied coldly, his voice devoid of so much emotion. His cold gaze pierced Ghost’s, his emotionless brown eyes having a staring contest with Ghost’s own brown eyes. “Not that I have family, anyways. Why aren’t you home for the holidays?”

He was curious, of course. Ghost was just like him: a mystery. And while the cold part of him that was so detached from others that he couldn’t motivate himself to make friends told him not to ask, not to get close, he just couldn’t help himself. He saw a kindred spirit in the SAS lieutenant, and the part of him that was lonely, so lonely, hoped this deployment would be the chance for him to finally have a family. After all, the Task Force loved like a family, fought like a family, protected each other like a family.

And damn him and his weak heart for craving that.

Ghost was still leaning against the door frame and he crossed his arms as he registered the question, Stone’s cold gaze hungrily taking in the way the Lieutenant’s muscles flexed with the movement. “I don’t have family either. Not anymore, anyways,” he answered gruffly after a few minutes of thinking exactly what to say. “141's the only family I got now, but I wasn’t going to intrude on their time with their families. I get them for most of the year, time for their families to have them.”

Stone wanted to ask why Ghost no longer had any biological family, what happened to them, but he held back. Not only was it rather rude for him to keep pressing for answers when clearly Ghost didn’t want to talk about it, it was…too personal. He had to remember that he shouldn’t make friends, shouldn’t make connections.

You can’t trust anyone, Beta. Not fellow soldiers, not friends. Not even family. Not even me. Close your heart, Beta. Seal your emotions, lest you be weak.

He almost had a visible reaction to his father’s cold and harsh words slicing through his thoughts, but he managed to reign in the flinch and wince. Managed to hide the searing throb that came with the words.

Seal your emotions, seal your emotions, he repeated that mantra several times in his head, forcing himself to remain cold and stoic.

“Why did you come here?” His words sounded even harsher than usual, internally agitated. It was hard maintaining the demeanor his father beat into him when he was alone, but it was even harder with someone else in the room. With Ghost in the room. “Get out. Can’t you see I’m working?”

Ghost’s brown eyes flashed with anger, his jaw clenching tight as his hands furled into fists. He walked into the office, no longer lingering in the doorway, like he was about to give Stone a piece of his mind. But then he took a deep breath and returned to being just as impassive—if not more now that Stone was agitated on the inside—as Stone. 

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to hang out in the recreational room with me, since we’re both the only soldiers on base. The only ones without families to go home to. But I can see that line of thinking was a mistake, coming here was a mistake.” He paused, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes narrowed at Stone. “I pity you, you know? You’re alone. At least I have friends.”

Stone stood up at that, so quickly that a normal person would’ve gotten whiplash. He got out from behind his desk, stalking towards Ghost and towering over him like he did with everybody. He leaned down, his masked face inches away from Ghost’s as his cold brown eyes glared into Ghost’s warmer brown eyes.

“I don’t need friends. I don’t need anyone. I’m not weak like you,” he spat out, internally willing himself to remain cold.

This was a mistake, he thought to himself bitterly. It was a mistake to even entertain the notion of making friends.

Ghost scoffed, looking up at Stone and not even flinching at how tall the Fleet Marine Corpsman was. “If that’s how you feel, fine. Far be it from me to try and change your mind. Merry Christmas, Stone,” he said, glancing at the digital clock behind Stone that now shined a bright twelve o’clock at night.

He then turned on his heel, not even sparing Stone a second glass as he left the office.

Stone was internally seething, trying everything he can to remain cold and stoic. He wasn’t sure if he was mad at himself or at Ghost, or both. He was just mad, so he made quick strides to the door of the office and slammed it shut to deter anyone else from disturbing him, although only him and Ghost were on base.

The silence was deafening, only sounds being his breathing and his pounding heartbeat in his chest. The anger was a bitter reminder that he was no longer the perfect soldier his father trained him to be. That he was getting weak, the years of being away from his father’s influence clearly having deteriorated all the hard work that had been done.

“Stop it, stop being so weak,” he murmured to himself, his large hands reaching up to grab at his black short hair. He stumbled back towards his desk, to try and work on his paperwork again. “Seal your emotions, close your heart. Can’t trust anyone, have to be the perfect soldier. The perfect weapon Baba made you to be.”

He sank his broken and scarred form into the chair at his desk, it creaking a lot as always because he was heavier than most soldiers. He took several deep breaths before finally releasing the hair in his hands.

Stone didn’t go back to work for a while, no, he sat in his desk chair and remembered all of the memories of his childhood. Remembered the fear, the feeling of being unsafe, of being unloved by the only family he had at the time. And he remembered it all until he got a grip on himself, until he went back to being devoid from emotions. 

Just like how Baba taught him.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

[uneducated-author]

I got a present from a student of mine, a beautiful hardcover copy of 'Howl's Moving Caste' and I'm so happy, but it does remind me of what 10 (AND A HALF) year old me did when she found out that it wasn't in my local WHSmith.

Full of rage and vitriol I knocked on the door of every classroom in my school (I was a renowned introvert, so this was EXTREMELY out of character) and politely asked if anyone had a copy. I received Many Many Many rejections. Inconsolable I lay in the library and wept. Then, like a beacon from the dark, the librarian miraculously told me that when I'd asked earlier she was mistaken and 'oh, I think we have it actually! It's just in loan'

I've looked back in this moment with the benefit of hindsight and realised that the librarian, who knew me as the girl who'd hide from bullies in the reading room and spent lunch hours organising books, must have elected to specially order the book for me, and it makes an already sweet moment even sweeter.

But a week later, I was distraught again. The winter holidays were coming up. I would loose access to the only library that had this treasure. I was holding Diana Wynne Jones masterpieces in my hands, despairing against my upcoming tragedy, until it came to me. The perfect solution.

I just had to write the whole book.

'Oh you fool, you could not write three books in a week'

I could sure as hell try.

I was in a frenzy. I would shovel breadsticks into my mouths and fervently write at lunch. I stayed up late and wrote by torchlight.

(Honestly, I probably could have written by lamp, but torchlight felt more dramatic and I lived for the feeling it evoked.)

I wrote in my reading class, permitted because I'd finished the list of books and the assorted quizzes. I wrote in friday PE because the friday teacher never took attendance and nobody cared if a young girl had locked herself in the bathroom for an hour, scribbling away.

I learned how to write with my left hand, but I was too slow if I wanted it to be legible, so I worked through the pain.

So? Did I finish? Was my fervent effort rewarded? Books had to be returned to the library on Thursday so I didn't even have Thurday night. Would the fortnight be enough?

Sort of. I finished my transcription of 'Howl's Moving Castle' and 'Castle in the Air' but couldn't move on to the final book in the trilogy. Hence started my winter vacation. I poured through the story, luxuriating in the rereading. I impressed my mother with my skill in making whipped cream, turns out mixing is much less intensive than furtive writing.

And on Christmas, I opened a beautiful collection of three paperbacks. I reread those books until I could recite swathes from each, and memorised the whole first chapter, which I'd murmur to my younger cousins.

I passed those books down to a younger girl in the neighbourhood, who passed them down to her sister, who gave them to a friend who lost them on a holiday. I have no idea where they are now.

But I have a book, from a student who loves reading where she used to hate it, and revels in a story with happy ending and good characters.

I don't know if there's some greater meaning to this. But I love the story, and it's come back to me. And my wrist almost hurts remembering almost 100,000 words for this story, but I can't help remember how much I wanted it.

Sometimes I think 'do I have that passion now? Is there anything I'd care about to that extent, until it hurts, until I hate it?'

I was so foolish, but so so alive and that week feels impossible. I talked to strangers! I transcribed a book! I didn't give up, not for a second!

(In fact two years later I did the same thing for Good Omens, transcribing the copy at my library over the period of a whole Summer. I purchased a copy a year after that, and gave it to a friend last year.)

I'm proud, of what ten and a half year old me did. Not because it was specifically moral, or impressive. Because of how much she loved something that she resolved to do anything to keep it with her.

The frantic handwriting is unfamiliar to me. It's spidery and smudged. The paper seems unbelievably thin, and the script uneven and unlevelled. A whole chapter has been lost to water damage. I barely have any of the book memorised. I keep it all the same because ten (and a half) year old me would weep if I lost it.

A heart is a heavy burden. But I poured mine into a strangers words, and then into those pages. I can't give them away.