#so happy and in love. and then the twist and joe explaining how he never loved him and was like if u paid attention you would have noticed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

Would You Rather?

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom mentions his crush on you during an interview and you respond

Authors note: this was requested by anon who gave a generous donation to the BLM fund. Thank you!

Masterlist

“Would you rather fight a horse sized duck or a duck sized horse?” Tom read off a card as he adjusted the collar on his blue jumpsuit.

“I don’t know what situation I’d be in where I’d have to fight either of these animals.” He started as he looked at the camera. “I feel like I’d rather fight duck sized horse because that’s pretty small. I could probably defeat that. But a horse sized duck could bite me, you know?”

The crew nodded in agreement and Tom moved on to the next question.

“Would you rather lose the ability to read or the ability to speak?” Tom scratched behind his head as he thought about it.

“I barely have the ability to read as it is.” He laughed. “I’m an actor, so I feel like I need the ability to speak.”

He dropped that card on the couch and picked up the next one.

“Would you rather have Captain Marvel or Black Cat as your girlfriend?” He smiled as he read.

“I don’t know if they mean as my girlfriend or as Spider-Man’s girlfriend but I without a doubt would pick Black Cat.” Tom said confidently. “I was so upset when they cast Y/n L/n as the Black Cat and didn’t connect her movie to the Spider-Man universe.”

“Why were you upset?” A crew member asked.

“Because I’m in love with Y/n.” Tom laughed like it was obvious. “I must’ve seen every movie of hers 100 times. Especially the Black Cat suit because she looked so freaking hot in that.”

“She really did.” A female lighting director nodded in agreement.

“Right? If Black Cat was Spider-Man’s girlfriend and Y/n was my girlfriend I’d be a very happy man.” Tom sighed dreamily and toyed with the card as he day dreamed about you.

That video went up a few days later and made the usual headlines. You were well aware of Tom as an actor but completely unaware of his crush on you. Your heart stopped that first time you saw the headline:

“Watch Tom Holland gush over his celebrity crush, Y/n L/n.”

And yes, you did watch.

You watched many times in fact. The part where he said he was in love with you was your personal favorite. After getting sent the video by all your friends and fans, you decided to do something about it.

“@tomholland1996 you look pretty hot in your suit as well. And out of the suit. And in regular clothes. Damn dude, you’re pretty hot.”

You posted the tweet with a devious smile and shut your phone off. Whatever the world had to say about it, they could wait until the next morning.

You were woken up early the next morning by your phone ringing. You wiped the sleep from your eyes but kept them shut as you held your phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You said groggily.

“Y/n? It’s your manager. I have some exciting news.” Your manager sounded giddy on the other side of the line.

“So exciting that you had to wake me up?” You laughed sleepily.

“I don’t know.” She humored you. “Do you think the Russo Brothers emailing me and asking you to come to set is exciting?”

You sat up quickly as your eyes flew open.

“What?” You shrieked in excitement.

“They said they’ve been rewriting the script for Infinity War for the past few weeks and it’s finally finished. They added a scene with the Black Cat.” She said in a sing song voice. Your breath hitched in your throat as the news flooded into your ears.

“You’re kidding.” You gasped.

“Nope. Can you drive down to set at 1? I sent you the address.” She told you.

“I’ll be there.” You nodded as a wide smile spread across your face. Your manager hung up and you threw down your phone.

“AHHHH.” You screamed in excitement and immediately got dressed. It was finally happening.

You were finally going to be in the MCU.

You arrived at the address promptly before 1 and were led to set by an assistant. The Russo Brothers met you by the trailers and introduced themselves.

“Great to meet you.” Joe shook your hand, then Anthony. “How much did your manager tell you?”

“Just that you added a scene with the Black Cat.” You nodded as you relayed all the information you had.

“Right. We decided to add the Black Cat to the MCU now that her character has been established in your solo movie.” Anthony explained. “We had to keep it a secret until now to keep it from getting leaked. We have big plans for your character, starting with this movie.”

You smiled gratefully at the two of them and nodded enthusiastically.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity. I’m so honored to be here. What are the plans?” You asked as you twisted your fingers nervously.

“For starters, meet your new boyfriend.” Joe chuckled and turned around and pointed.

“Boyfriend?” You asked and followed his finger.

“Tom, get over here.” He called. Your eyes widened when you realized what name he called and you looked up to see Tom jogging over to you.

“What’s up guys?” He looked at the Russo bothers before his eyes landed on you. His smile faded and he blinked a few times to register the sight in front of him.

“Hi.” His face flushed and he smiled shyly at you.

“Hi.” You smiled back, still not believing what was happening.

“I’m- I’m Tom.” He fumbled over his words as he held out his hand.

“I know.” You laughed softly as you shook his hand.

“Right, sorry.” He shook his head in embarrassment. “Whats uh, what’s she doing here?”

“Change of plans.” Anthony smirked as he handed you and Tom a few pages of the script.

“You’re giving me a script?” Tom asked in disbelief as he ran his fingers over the crisp white pages.

“Yes. Don’t make us regret it.” Joe said sternly.

“Yes sir.” Tom nodded eagerly and began to flip through it.

“Peter is going to get thrown by one of Thanos’s men and Black Cat is going to catch him.” Anthony began to explain. “She saw the spaceship, came to help, and winds up in space with Tony, Steven, and Peter.”

“That’s awesome.” Tom breathed. “This looks really cool.”

You were so wrapped up in the excitement of holding a real Marvel script that you had forgotten the brothers original statement.

“Hold on. You said he was my boyfriend.” You looked at Joe and Anthony skeptically.

“Boyfriend?” Tom perked up from his script and looked between the three of you. “Me boyfriend? To her? Please say yes. I’m fine either way it’s just, I would really like you to say yes right now.

“Yes Tom.” Joe laughed. “Right as they’re falling in love, poof.”

“Dust.” Anthony finished. You and Tom shared a look, evidently impressed.

“That’s brutal.” You remarked.

“It is.” Joe agreed. “Until they’re reunited in Endgame in a similar fashion to the way they met.”

“And the crowd goes wild.” Anthony said slowly. You got chills just thinking about it and smiled as you rubbed your arms.

“I like it.” You nodded and Tom bit back a smile.

“Me too.” He said softly. “I like it a lot.”

“Great.” Anthony rubbed his hands together. “Rehearsal starts tomorrow.”

The brothers walked away, leaving you and Tom alone with each other.

“They don’t play around over here. I just got cast and already I’m on set.” You chuckled and shyly looked at Tom. He was so much cuter in person, the camera didn’t do justice to his freckles. Tom nodded and gave you a half smile.

“Yeah, they’re pretty unorthodox over here. I’d tell you you’d get used to it, but I’d be lying.” Tom shook his head and gave you a once over. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you told the world I looked hot in my catsuit but never dmed me to ask for my number.” You shrugged easily and Toms jaw dropped at your boldness.

“In my defense, you are way too cool to be interested in me. At least I knew my place.” He shot back and you laughed.

“Didn’t you see my tweet last night?” You asked coyly as you raised an eyebrow.

“What tweet? The one about you calling me hot? The one that I sent to every single contact in my phone, including my dentist?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows. “No, I don’t think I saw it.”

“Funny.” You folded your arms and gave him a sultry smile. “I never checked if you responded.”

“I’d rather if you didn’t. It wasn’t very smooth.” He admitted.

“Hey, Tom?”

“Yes?” He looked at you.

“Would you rather continue talking in the middle of a crowded set or go somewhere secluded to run our lines?” You made a callback to his interview that started it all and he noticed.

“Run lines please. I need to quit while I’m ahead.” He eyed you with uncertainty as he thought about his words. “I was ahead, right?”

“Yeah.” You smirked and linked your arm through his. “You were ahead.”

“Kid, what are you doing here?” Tony asked as he craned his neck to see Peter.

“On a field trip to MOMAAAAAA.” Peter yelled as he was flung into the sky. He flew through the air like a rag doll until he landed in your arms. You breathed heavily, you in your masks and suits.

“Hey there.” You smirked at Peter as you held him bridal style.

“Hi, I’m Peter. You’re really pretty.” He said through heavy pants. “Can you pretend I didn’t just say that?”

“Hi Peter.” Your wine colored lips tugged into a smile. “Should you really be telling me your name? I could be dangerous.” You pouted as you set him down.

“Oh, right.” Peter got back on his feet and brushed off his suit. “In that case, I’m not Peter. I’m…Pedro.”

“Mm, Pedro. I like it.” You winked and saw one of Thanos’s minions coming at him from behind. “Watch out.”

You spun around and kicked the minion in the face before hooking your legs around his neck and knocking him to the ground. One swift punch to the throat knocked him unconscious. You stood up and waltzed back over to Peter as you dusted off your hands.

“Woah, where’d you learn to do that?” The eyes of Peters mask widened as you impressed him with your skills.

“A woman’s got to protect herself, right?” You shrugged and popped gum in your mouth before eyeing him up and down. “And apparently, I have to protect you too.”

“I’m totally fine with that.” Peter answered honestly. “Do you have a name?”

You wrapped your arms around Peters neck and blew a bubble with your gum.

“Black Cat.” You said once it popped. The sent of bubble gum filled Peters nostrils and his knees weakened.

“That explains the catsuit.” He gulped. “What, no tail?”

“Tails are so cliche.” You whined and stroked his covered cheek with your hand. “I’m a cat burglar, not a halloween costume.”

“If this is how you go out on a normal day, I’d love to see what you wear in Halloween.” Peter attempted time flirt back with the mysterious woman distracting him from his mission. You leaned forward, close enough that your lips were almost touching.

“I bet you would.” You whispered. You patted his cheek and turned away swiftly, whipping his face with your long gray ponytail. Peter let out a throaty groan as the scent of your perfume enveloped him. You walked around him in a circle, dragging your fingernail along his shoulders as you went.

“Since you know my name is Peter, it’s only fair you tell me yours.” He said as he turned his head to look at you. You paused, standing directly behind him.

“You really wanna know my name?” You challenged.

“That’s what I just said.” Peter sassed you. You smirked and took a step towards Peter so you were pressed against his back, gripping his waist tightly.

“Hardy.” You said right in his ear and he shivered. “Felicia Hardy. I’ve seen you around, Spiderman. You’re pretty good.”

You finished your circle and stood in front of him now. He was grateful for his mask, otherwise you could see just how red he had gone. His heart was racing out of his chest just from the look of you. The white fur cuffs and skintight black suit were making it impossible for him to focus.

“Just pretty good?” He questioned. “I’ve taken down a lot of bad guys.”

“Mm, but never me.” You taunted as you twirled your gray hair around your finger, wanting to get a rise out of you.

“You’re a bad guy?”

“Depends on your definition of bad guy.” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and let your teeth drag. “Do you think I’m bad?”

“Depends on your definition of bad.” Peter straightened up.

“This has been fun.” You smirked and tossed your ponytail over your shoulder. Nice talking to you, Peter.”

“You too.” Peter smiled under his mask until a Boulder was flung your way. “Look out!”

Peter shot a web at you and pulled you flushed against his chest. He pulled you to the ground and rolled on top of you as the boulder went over your heads. It was your turn to be blushing as you stared at Peter in amazement.

“How did you-“

“Spidey senses.” He answered before you could finish your question. He could feel his body beginning to lift into the air with you following. “Oh no.”

“What’s happening?” You asked as you and Peter lifted into the air. You clutched him tightly to keep from falling and Peter held on to you for support.

“Mr Stark!” He yelled. “I’m being beamed up!”

“And cut!” Anthony yelled. The wires holding you and Tom up slowly lowered you back down until you were back on the ground. Tom rolled off of you and fell on his back, breathing heavily from the scene. He pulled his mask off and rested it on his tummy.

“Whew.” He panted and looked at you with a tired smile. “Great work.”

You smiled back at Tom, still flushing from the flirty scene. You had done that scene many times from rehearsal all the way to production, but never that well. Your heart usually stopped racing by now, but something about the way he was looking at you kept it in rhythm.

“You too.” You complimented him as you sat up. You helped each other up and pulled each other into a sweaty hug.

“That’s a wrap guys. Great work today.” Joe announced. “Before you leave, I have the official version of the script. This is what we’re going to be filming tomorrow. We couldn’t give it to you until now in case someone spoiled it.”

Joe glared at Tom as he handed out the final scripts.

“I hate it here.” Tom mumbled as his ability to keep secrets was once again under fire.

“Great, thank you.” You smiled at Joe before he walked away. Tom came over to you, hitting his rolled up script against his hand.

“Do you want to go over our lines for tomorrow?” Tom asked.

“Sure. I’ll meet you there after I drop off my costume.” You told him.

Twenty minutes later, your wig and costume were returned to the costume department. You wiped off your makeup and changed into comfortable clothes before heading to Tom’s. You let out a shaky breath as you walked towards his trailer. You’d been in there a hundred times since production began a few months ago, but today felt different. There was something in the air between you and Tom that neither of you could ignore. You knocked on his door and heard your heartbeat in your ears as you waited for him to open. Tom gave you a shy smile as he opened the door of his trailer door for you and stepped aside.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy.” He apologized as he shut the door behind him. You looked around at Toms trailer, noting the clothes hanging off the ceiling fan and the pictures of the two of you taped to his mirror. You walked over to the mirror and touched the picture with a light smile. It was a strip of picture taken in a photo booth a few weeks into production. The photos went from you and Tom smiling, to laughing, to you kissing his cheek, to him kissing your cheek as you laughed. You had spent your only day off together, hanging out a a fair until the sun was coming up. After getting stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel for 15 minutes and clinging to Tom every time it shook, you ran to the photo booth to immortalize the night. You had the exact same strip of photos on your dresser at home, but you never noticed that he displayed them so proudly.

“It’s very you in here.” You looked at him over your shoulder and shot him a smile.

“Thanks?” He bit his lip in confusion.

“Don’t worry. It was a compliment.” You said pointedly and walked back towards him. “Should we look at the script?” You suggested and he nodded.

“Yeah. Here, take a seat.” He sat on his bed and patted the spot next to you. You sat next to him and folded your legs, beginning to flip through the script.

“This looks the same as the last script.” You realized when you recognized the words. Tom flipped through his script and came to a halt when he read something unexpected.

“It’s not.” He said with a dry mouth.

“What’s different?” You looked up at him in confusion.

“There’s a kiss.” He looked you to and saw your face go pale.

“A kiss?” You stammered and went back to your script to find what he was talking about.

“Right here.” Peter held out his script and pointed to the part. “Felicia kisses Peter before she turns to dust.” He read.

“So this is what they didn’t want you spoiling.” You laughed nervously as you read the stage direction over and over.

“They might’ve made a good call on that one.” Tom chuckled softly. “I’m really tempted right now to post a picture of the script on twitter just to rub it in everyone’s face.”

You looked up from the script and gave him a fond smile.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You said softly.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized. “It’s not everyday you get cast opposite your celebrity crush.”

“How do you think I felt when I got cast as your girlfriend?” You pulled your knees to your chest and rested your chin on top.

“You...liked me?” Tom asked quietly. He didn’t let himself believe it, not wanting to get his hopes up.

“For a long time now.” You admitted. Production was about to end anyway. If he didn’t feel the same, there was nothing you could do about it, but at least he knew.

Tom blinked a few times as he registered what you said and smiled widely.

“I’m really glad I got to know you these past few months. You’re a lot cooler in person.” Tom said sincerely. “Honestly, I have no idea how I’m supposed to act beside you tomorrow knowing I have to kiss you.”

“Tom.” You said breathlessly at his words.

“I’m already a nervous wreck. My mind is in sicko mode right now. I can’t even read.” He put his script down and sighed.

“I think I might be able to calm you down.”

“How?” He wondered. He looked up at you for answers, but was met with a kiss. You tilted your head to the side and pressed your lips against his feeling his eyelashes brush your cheek as his eyes fluttered shut. Tom brought his hand to the side of your face for support and gently rubbed his thumb against your cheek. You smiled against his lips and sat up a little to get a better angle and kissed him deeply. You pulled away to catch your breath and rested your forehead against his. The only sound in the trailer was from your heavy breathing.

“You’re really smart.” He said quietly. “I feel significantly calmer.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” You chuckled softly. Tom pulled away and took on of your hands in his, rubbing gentle circles on the back of it.

“I have a question for you.” He said.

“Go for it.” You bit your bottom lip as you both spoke in hushed tones.

“Would you rather,” he began with a coy smile, “kiss me again or go on a date with me?”

“I can’t have both?” You pouted and a wicked flame ignited in Toms eyes. He hooked his pinky under your chin and moved your face towards his, leaning close enough that his lips brushed yours when he spoke.

“I think I can make an exception.” He whispered before kissing you again.

Tag List 🏷

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x yn #spiderman #tom holland blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x felicia hardy

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justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years

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so, after seeing the wonderful frozen xisuma art by @ambered-glazed-sheep i had an urge to write some comfort. so i did.

featuring: hermits looking after their admin, a very out of it x, lots of warmth, both physically and in friendships, the comfort after the hurt.

warnings: general being frozen. he's fine though! warmed by the love of his friends. even if he won't step into a snowy biome for a while after this.

"'Suma!" Xisuma can't gather the energy to open his eyes. The voice sounds far away, and he struggles to tell if it really is or not. A burning touch against his cheek breaks through the numbness that has long taken over his body. He twitches from it, muscles moving without his command. A rough noise leaves his throat. "He's freezing."

"I think that's a bit obvious!" That voice is high and distressed. Xisuma can't place why. He knows he recognises them but- His thoughts are distracted as he's moved. Powdered snow slips off his body, limp in the hands that hold him. "Come on, I've got a leather chest plate. Help me get him into it."

He barely manages a noise to protest being manhandled. There's gentle hushing in response as a force tugs at his arms. He can hardly tell which way is up anymore. Something is being pulled onto him and with some effort, he blinks his eyes open. He can't make sense of what he sees. It's just colours - blues as cold as the iciness inside him. None of the shapes come together in his head, no matter how hard he tries to focus. Exhausted, they fall shut again. His head rolls forward with them, quickly caught and laid back on something solid. He's sitting upright. Ah.

"C'mon, Xisuma." He's pretty sure that voice is talking to him. He's Xisuma, right? "Stay with us a bit longer." With a firm click, warmth blossoms in his chest. He sighs at the sensation. He didn't think his muscles could slack any further, but he slumps against the wall behind him all the same.

"I've got his helmet." Mm, his helmet. Something tugs through his hair, and he feels snow drop onto his nose. When did he take his helmet off? "Let's get him back to Hermitcraft." He makes a surprised noise when the wall behind him moves. There's something hooking under his arms, and then he's hauled upwards. Despite his best efforts, his feet only slide on the ground. He can't feel the surface underneath them. He's not sure if he should be fighting the grip or embracing it.

"Up you come, big guy." He attempts to open his eyes but gravity swings around him. Although he can't be sure, he thinks that squeaking noise came from his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut to fight off the dizziness in his already clouded thoughts.

"Have we got everything?" The pressure on his body shuffles him, moving malleable limbs into position. Xisuma flexes his fingers into soft fabric. They ache with the movement, but he grips on tightly all the same.

"One derp of an admin successfully collected. We can come back for anything else." The sturdy chest he's leaning against rumbles with the words. Xisuma hums softly.

"Impulse, can you go ahead and make sure we have potions?" Xisuma allows his head to rest against the support holding him. Warmth is seeping back into his limbs at a snail's pace. He couldn't tell anyone where his feet are right now for the life of him.

"On it! I'll see you guys at spawn." His ears finally pick up on the crunch of snow. That must've been there before. He was recording something with it, wasn't he? Warmth presses on his head, ruffling his hair. He sinks down with a pleased sigh, mind feeling heavy.

"I'd say this is a mission success."

"Yes, and somebody is going to get a stern talking to." The warmth on his head leaves for a second when his nose is poked. Xisuma scrunches up his face. He has a vague notion that somebody might be him.

"Let's get him warm first-." The rest of the sentence trails off from Xisuma's hearing. His thoughts have only grown heavier, and he's too tired to fight that encouraging pull into sleep. He lets out a final sigh, curling into the warmth surrounding him. He's safe here. He can rest.

It takes some time for him to climb back to consciousness. He's cozy. There's a comfortable pressure shielding him from the world. When he listens, he can make out familiar voices talking without distinguishable words. Occasionally, there's someone holding him, and he can feel the words more than he can hear them. Xisuma is happy existing in this in-between. There's no pressure. No ever-present responsibility. And, his tired mind helpfully supplies, no cold. He'd begun to think he'd never feel warmth again out there.

His thoughts are more coherent now, at least. He can feel all the way down to his toes. His skin is covered in soft fabric, a comfortable cocoon. A fire crackles in the distance, the scent of food reaching his nose. Mushroom stew, he thinks. Rich and well-flavoured.

"Xisuma," a voice encourages, next to him, "I can see you twitching." Xisuma thinks his sigh is disappointed as he makes that final grab towards consciousness. He squints his eyes open into a warm glow. "There you are!" Xisuma hums in reply, trying to make out the person's silhouette.

"Cub?" The name sounds unsure to his own ears. Like his voice still isn't part of him. It didn't hurt as much as he expected. How many potions have they fed him?

"Yep. Welcome back, X." Xisuma lifts one of his arms, weaving it out of the blankets to rub his eyes. It still feels heavy, moving with an ache. Ugh, he hates the cold.

"Gettin' there." He frowns at his failed pronunciation. Nothing he can do about it now. Cub chuckles, ruffling through X's hair. Xisuma makes an annoyed noise, trying and very much failing to whack him away.

"Think you can manage some food?" Cub asks. Xisuma takes a deep sniff of the stew, his stomach twisting in previously forgotten hunger at the thought.

"Please." Cub smiles, leaving his side with a barely felt squeeze of the shoulder. These blankets are thick.

Xisuma uses the time to take stock of where he is, eyes adjusted to the light. It's the spawn hub he built. Across the central room, Cub has joined Joe and Impulse, working in front of a campfire he's pretty sure he didn't include. Underneath him is the soft surface of a bed. Something is warm inside the blanket, and he's fairly sure he wasn't wearing such fluffy clothes earlier. His armour is stacked against a chest next to the bed, helmet on the lid and within reach. He smiles.

"X!" He turns back as Impulse approaches, smile brighter than any of the lights in the room. "It's good to see you awake, man. Or coherent at least." Xisuma laughs a little self-deprecatingly.

"Ah, I didn't do anything too embarrassing whilst I was out, did I?" His memories of all that are a bit fuzzy. He remembers recording, and it was going well! He'd taken good notes and he was working through them efficiently. Then he remembers lying there in the snow, wondering if he'd ever move again (he won't linger on that memory.) Next thing he knows, he's being picked up.

"Well, unless you count clinging to Cub like a child?" Hm. The blush he can feel at the thought answers that one. Impulse takes in his expression and laughs, "Nah, you were fine! We won't tell anyone. Lips sealed."

Xisuma doesn't get the chance to reply as Cub and Joe join them, bowls of stew and a plate of sliced bread in hand. They set up a few chairs with a table between them. Xisuma has to shuffle his sore limbs forward to reach. He jumps in surprise when something rolls out of his blanket pile, hitting the floor with a thud. Impulse reaches down and scoops it into his hand. He unwraps the bundle, revealing the stone within.

"Magma rocks, wrapped up so they're not too hot," he explains at Xisuma's confused look. "Zed's idea, actually. Keeps him warm in that massive cave of his." Oh. That explains the extra heat source, then. Xisuma reaches out for a slice of bread, dipping it into the stew. He smiles as he watches it soak in, taking his time to enjoy this. It smells glorious, and it tastes just as good.

Once he's half way through his stew, he finally asks, "What happened? I'm still a little confused." The three share a look. Cub is the one who shrugs.

"You went to record a snapshot overview, right?"

Xisuma nods, "I did indeed. And the next thing I remember is being on the ground. And cold." Can't forget the cold. He kind of wishes he could.

"Well, Xisuma," Joe sits up straight as he speaks. His bowl is already empty. How did he manage that without Xisuma realising? "We noticed after a few days that our dear admin hadn't come back. So after a few messages with no response, we went to look for you. And what do we find but our admin curled up in the snow, looking like an icicle."

"Seriously, X," Impulse says it with a gentle sigh, "Why would you set your spawn in the snow?" Xisuma's mouth opens, but he ends up simply rubbing his neck. It does nothing to hide the blush creeping onto his face.

"Ah, goodness." He chuckles once his words return. "Not my smartest move, then."

"Well, you've had your moments." Cub's smile is as fond as it is teasing. Xisuma returns to dipping his last slice of bread in the stew, hopefully not embarrassing himself further.

"You know, you're kind of lucky, X," Joe adds, with a smile a little too smug for him, "Cleo wanted to come." X winces at the thought, swallowing his food down on instinct. He got off very lucky indeed. "We're still going to talk about this," Joe warns, "but I'll hold her wrath off for now." Xisuma hums, tugging the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"We don't want anything to happen to you, Xisuma," Impulse tells him, ever so soft. "We had no idea something did. What if we hadn't checked?" It's not a comfortable thought.

"I'll think of something," X decides. "I see what you're saying."

"Well, technically you don't see it-" Cub rolls his eyes at Joe, taking the empty bowls to wash up. Only Xisuma hasn't finished.

"Joe, I'm trying to be serious, man!" Impulse protests. Xisuma hides his laugh behind a spoonful of stew. He continues eating, listening to the three go back and forth. Later, they'll work out a plan for future snapshots. Frequent check ins, a buddy maybe. But, for now. For now, he gets to spend time with what matters most. His friends.

#hermitcraft #xisuma #xisumavoid #impulsesv #cubfan135 #joe hills #my writing #listened to the animal crossing nl soundtrack whilst editing. v good.#also sorry for tagging u if u didn't wanna be amber #pls do not feel obligated to reblog lmao it's just too give u credit where credit is due

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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 3 years

Text

VISIONS IN THE SNOW

Good Evening All! I have a new one-shot that was inspired by the horrific weather that recently swept across the U.S. It caused so much grief, suffering to so many people. I hope this would bring a smile to some faces. This was written with one particular person in mind (and you know who you are) and I’m glad you like it.

Thanks as always to @scubalass for the read through. Your suggestions were, as always, spot on. It made the final story so much better.

Status of Edinburgh to Boston: There is progress but it is painfully slow. There are two characters that are essential to this chapter whose voice I do not hear as well as I do Jamie and Claire. I write something, then I delete it and I do the same thing over and over. We will come to an understanding at some point so dinna fash. There will be A/N at the end to explain words or terms.

Without further delay I give you Visions in the Snow.

Here goes nothing:

VISIONS IN THE SNOW

February 1968 - Boston

The responsibility for hosting this week’s poker game fell to Joe Abernathy. He took his duties in this regard very seriously. It was the way the surgeons decompressed after a week of stressful surgical procedures and this week was no exception.

“It must have been a full moon,” he thought. Motor vehicle accidents, stabbings, gunshot wounds, volvulus, a ruptured esophagus, the works. It was during these times that he dearly missed his friend. Claire. He cast his glance over to the card table set with one extra place, Claire’s place. On the seat was her green visor that she wore when she played poker with the boys. It sat in repose like a memorial to a fallen comrade.

Silly thing! She believed wearing it masked her glass face. Nothing could be further from the truth, but none of her colleagues had the heart to tell her. They all knew what Claire Randall was thinking. So much so, they often let her win which caused her to think she was good at playing poker.

He glanced around the room and saw that everything was in readiness for the evening. The sideboard groaned beneath the bounty of food, snacks, and brews.

Outside, the wind blew fiercely rattling the windows drawing his attention. Joe looked out the window watching the two front trees bowing to the brute force of nature. Their skeletal fingers scraped at the roof almost as if trying to gain entry. It had been snowing for the last six hours with no sign of it letting up. He had considered canceling the game but a majority of his colleagues soundly vetoed that idea. Only Callahan and Peterson dissented. Callahan’s wife would kill him if he left her alone to deal with their six small ones while he went to play poker. Peterson lived thirty miles away. The remaining players all lived a short walking distance from his home, on Doctors Row. It was so-called because many of the physicians who worked at the hospital lived on the same street. These surgeons were gambling men betting they had enough time for some comradery, hands, and beers before the brunt of the storm arrived.

For a Boston snowstorm, it hadn’t accumulated very much. Yet. Regardless, it would not hamper these hardened surgeons accustomed to driving through Boston’s worst to get to the hospital. Without warning, the storm picked up intensity driving the snow hard enough to erase the landscape before him. Amid the squall, a hazy light glowed like the high beams of headlights in the snow. A wraithlike figure emerged from its center. Joe wasn’t able to make out any of its features. Man? Woman? He wasn’t sure. But one thing was for sure, it was headed directly toward his house.

Joe leaned closer trying to see if the person was in distress as they were caught out in the snow. Maybe they had abandoned their car and were seeking help. His warm breath met the cold pane fogging it, wholly obscuring his view. Using his shirt sleeve, he wiped away the condensation hoping to improve his ability to see. As the person drew closer, it became apparent that it was a young woman and her attire was totally inappropriate for the weather. She wore a long dress whose hem floated across the snow. It looked like a green and black plaid and a white scarf crossed her neck to cover her bosom. Her hair was dark, curly, piled high on her head, and tendrils framing her face. She looked a lot like… It couldn’t be, could it? She came closer. So close that he could see her eyes. Eyes the color of a fine whisky. Claire? Claire! How? She had left for Scotland, disappearing into the past, to find her true love.

Anxiety flowed through him. He needed to speak with the woman. He needed to know if it truly was Claire. Joe tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge. The frame had swollen from the moisture, he thought. He rapped on the window calling her name, but she paid no heed.

Claire was running and laughing bright and merry. Stopping suddenly, she turned and extended a hand into the haze. A man appeared laughing and chased after her. He was a big son of a bitch standing at least six feet four inches and as big as a brick…Well, he was big. He had a mop of red hair, but to simply say red would deny the richness of the color. It was a curly thick mosaic of cinnamon, auburn, gold, and cinnabar. And his eyes were the deepest blue Joe had ever seen. The man was kitted out in traditional highland garb right down to the sword strapped to his side. Reaching her, the young man made a courtly bow. He straightened, then took her hand to bestow a kiss. A moment later, he lifted and spun her around. She tossed her head back and peals of joyous laughter rang through the air. He set her down gently settling his hands on the swell of her hips. His eyes danced with love as he lowered his head to kiss her most thoroughly. Joe felt his cheeks burn as he watched such intimacy.

Time advanced in front of him. He became witness to a lifetime, to a marriage, to the bonds of love that could not be broken. The vision changed from the blush of first love through to a life fully lived. He wept at their trials, tribulations, and heartbreak. And he reveled in their accomplishments, triumphs, and joys. But through all their hardships, and there were many, their love for each other never wavered, never changed.

The final event showed the couple had aged. The woman, Claire, had streaks of grey in her hair while the man’s hair had lightened. They stood atop a ridge overlooking some land. The man had his arm securely around her waist pulling her protectively close to him. Claire stood on her tiptoes wrapping her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a fiery kiss. She nodded her head and started to pull him toward a cabin. He scooped her up and carried her across the threshold kicking the door shut.

As the vision faded back into the vapor as a voice called out, “I am happy Joe. I found my Jamie.”

Resting his head against the cold pane of glass provided a sense of comfort to his unsettled mind and spirit. Uncertainty gripped him as he grappled to understand what happened. Had this been a dream? Or a hallucination? Or had the fabric of time somehow been rent apart? He shook himself, much like a dog dispelling the rain from its coat, hoping to lift his state of bewilderment.

Psssst, pssst, ssssssss! The homely sound of the radiator hissing brought him back to himself and away from his ruminations.

Mercilessly, the wind blew about the house ferociously shaking the windowpanes in their frames then suddenly died away. Out of curiosity, Joe tried to open the window. This time it slid open with ease. The blinding snow stopped returning to light flurries. As he turned to walk away from the window, he noticed the clock on the mantel. It was one minute later than when he last looked at it. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” he muttered.

Joe walked over to Claire’s chair and picked up the visor cradling it to his chest, “Wherever you are Claire, I’m glad you’re happy and you found your Jamie. Jamie, if you can hear me, take good care of our girl.”

With that, the doorbell rang and Joe went to greet his guests.

*************

Claire woke with a start bringing Jamie to instant alertness. He grabbed the pistol he kept by his bedside in preparation for any threat. Seeing none, he turned to look at Claire. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Sassenach, what’s amiss? Are ye alright?”

“I dreamt...I dreamt I was back in Boston going to play poker with the other surgeons. It was our regular night to play. The game was at Joe’s house and there was this blizzard.”

“Poker? What kind of game do ye play with a poker?” he was afraid to ask. Claire had told him so many peculiar stories about her time that he thought this would be another one. The only poker he knew about was the kind used in a fireplace.

“It’s a card game. I was rather good at it too. Someday I’ll have to teach you.” Claire snuggled up against Jamie seeking his heat, his comfort. She yawned greatly, “Except I will miss my green visor.”

“A vi-zor?” All he could envision was a knight’s helmet with a visor covering the eyes and face.

“It’s a sort of hat with a green brim. It shades your eyes and some of your face. People use it to hide their facial expressions when they bluff at cards.”

Jamie looked at her as if she were a bit daft. He knew nothing could hide her thoughts on that glass face. He tucked her head under his chin, “Come, Sassenach, rest yer head, aye? I think ye had a bit of the nightmare. I’ll keep ye warm and safe.” He lowered his head placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Jamie closed his eyes and thought about the black man he had seen in his dreams too. “Aye, dinna fash, Joe. I’ll care for her with my life,” he whispered just before lapsing into sleep.

A/N:

VOLVULUS: A volvulus occurs when part of the colon or intestine twists. The twisting causes bowel obstructions that may cut off the blood supply to areas of the bowels. This can cause the bowel to die or left untreated the person can die.

RENT: This involves a story. When I was in catechism class the teacher was telling the story of Christ’s trial before the Pharisees. When Jesus was condemned one of the Pharisees was said to have rent his garment. You say that to a bunch of kids and they start to giggle. They wanted to know who he rented his clothes to and for how much. So the teacher explained that to rent something meant to tear it apart violently. I fell in love with the word’s usage and I never thought I would get to use it in this way. But I did!

And poor Jamie, Claire’s stories always leave his surprised, confused, shocked among other feelings.

The truth behind this story was that it was supposed to be smutty. Instead, it evolved into this. It was supposed to happen that the Ridge was also snowed-in. Claire was bored with playing chess with Jamie and wanted to play something else. She wanted to teach him strip poker. So I left myself an opening if I chose to do a second chapter. But I have to finish E2B first.

I hope you liked this and it brought a smile to your face.

You can find me on AO3. There I am LadyJane518.

Thanks for reading!

#visions in the snow #ol fanfic #winter #snowstorm #poker #jamie and claire #joe abernathy #visor #tearing the fabric of time #My writing #my story #scubalass #gotham-ruaidh

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Don't Just Stand There Staring Honey (Try to Move Your Feet) (Taywhora) - Pinkgrapefruit

Georgie lets out one long sigh and lets her head fall back, dirty blonde hair falling onto the couch. “I. Need. A. Date.” She repeats, exasperated. “My friend is getting married in a few months and I need a date for the wedding.”

Tayce raises an eyebrow, repositioning herself on the couch so she can actually look at Georgie. “Georgina Aurora, I’m sure you can find yourself a date,” she smirks, “A’whora.”

A/N -

for my love ortega.

may our clowning be long and prosperous.

It’s times like this when the flat feels too small. Tayce has just gotten out of the shower, water rolling down her calves as she pads down the hall to her room and she can see Georgie doing her Chloe Ting workout - laptop being played through the TV. She’s wearing these tiny little shorts that leave her surprisingly tan legs on full display and her sports bra can barely be considered a sports bra - it’s a wonder the people in the flat across the street haven’t said something.

They’d snatched this place up the second it came on the market - the wall of glass windows in the living room making the two-bed London flat feel bigger than it was (at the time at least). It had been the natural progression from their tiny box flat they’d shared for the last three years of uni.

After living on top of each other for three years, they’d felt like queens in their new place, neither of them sleeping on a pullout sofa bed.

They’d alternated (of course) though Georgie tended to whine if she wasn’t feeling the sofa bed so on occasion they’d both end up in the double bed. By the end, on occasion turned into whenever she was drunk, sad, lonely, uncomfortable, on her period or bored. For all her jokes, Tayce wasn’t really complaining.

She tears her eyes away from Georgie’s ass and hurries into her room before she soaks the hallway rug, too scared of the blonde’s temper to risk ruining another of her interior design choices.

She presses play on Spotify and lays the towel on her unmade bed, perching carefully on the edge before beginning to moisturise her clean-shaven legs.

“I need a date.”

“What?” Tayce yells, eyes fixed on Mortal Kombat but brain anywhere else.

“I need a date,” Georgie replies, perching on the arm of the sofa and positioning her tennis skirt in a way so as not to show her knickers - she never knows when Tayce’s videogame friends might be able to see her (she once flashed one of them and it’s not something she wants to repeat).

There’s a huff of breath from Tayce before she gives up and stops moving, allowing her opponent to kill her. She sets the PlayStation controller down and faces the blonde, confusion clear on her face.

“I repeat, what?” The softness of her welsh accent slips in at times like this - something that six years of living in London hasn’t quite been able to take away.

Tayce raises an eyebrow, repositioning herself on the couch so she can actually look at Georgie. “Georgina Aurora, I’m sure you can find yourself a date,” she smirks, “A’whora.”

It’s a joke from uni about Georgie’s innate ability to find the one person in the club who’s only there for a shag (and then go home with them).

Georgie pouts. She bats her lash extensions and runs a hand through her hair, the other running down her thigh. She knows what she’s doing is flustering Tayce (that’s why she’s doing it) and really tries to play it up.

“They’ll just want me for sex though,” she whines, “They won’t get me like you.” She bats her lashes one more time and sees the exact moment Tayce melts, a pretty blush finally becoming visible.

“Just for you.”

Georgie cups a hand behind her ear, wincing as if she’s having trouble. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you,” she jokes and it makes Tayce bat an arm at her.

“I’ll do it for you Brat.”

The blonde bounces up, her tennis skirt flying up to show her lace knickers. “You’re the best!” She squeals before pressing a kiss to Tayce’s cheek, “Veronica will be so happy!”

“Have you finished in the shower?” Georgie calls from the hallway, snapping Tayce back into the moment.

“Is the shower still going?” Tayce shouts back sardonically and she hears Georgie hit her door on the way past. “Bitch.” She calls out before falling backwards onto her bed. She can see her outfit out of the corner of her eye and it twists her stomach in knots just looking at it.

It’s pretty simple, grey plaid cigarette trousers - a white shirt with red stitching and a matching suit jacket, but somehow it feels like Chinese handcuffs.

The telltale clunk of the waterpipes tells her that Georgie’s started her shower and she sits up again, feeling around on her bedside table for her hairbrush.

She goes through the motions of getting ready until Georgie is banging on her door again. She yanks it open, intending to say something cutting or at least sarcastic but she finds that it’s quite difficult to speak when your jaw is on the floor. Her’s certainly is.

Georgie’s dress is red satin with a sinfully high slit and her lipstick might just be the same shade of crimson currently on Tayce’s own lips. That might just be wishful thinking.

“Wow’” she stutters out, eyes trailing up and down. She gets caught on the wispy hairs that have come undone from Georgia’s chignon and has to catch herself because she wants to wrap it around her tongue and there isn’t enough time to unpack that.

“Wow, yourself,” Georgie says with a smirk, her tongue darting out between perfectly painted lips. She holds a hand out and Tayce gives her her forearm so she can walk the blonde out of the flat.

They blast Taylor Swift in the car, screaming the lyrics to Out of the Woods while on the A23. Tayce pulls them into the churchyard in Brighton and they both look at the amassing crowd with sighs.

“Damn baby, it’s like half your high school is here,” jokes Tayce as she touches up her powder in the fold-down mirror of the rental car.

Georgie smiles softly, “you don’t wanna meet half my high school,” she replies, remembering how she felt in the Nottingham public school system. She’s grateful, in a way, that Veronica’s new man is from Brighton so they don’t have to return to her hometown.

Tayce insists on coming round to open her car door and they stand arm in arm in front of the church for a moment before they go in. It’s closer to a cathedral than a church but from what Tayce knows, Veronica’s family could afford that. There’s a welcome sign out the front and it makes them both smile.

“Green and Blacks,” Tayce chuckles, “clever.”

Georgie looks at her and smiles, “Joe owns a coffee bar in Brighton and he hired her to sing one day,” she explains, finding the story sweet despite herself. Tayce gently sets her head on top of Georgie’s.

“Bless ‘em,” she hears Tayce murmur. She coughs quickly and they both straighten up. Just as she goes to fiddle with Tayce’s collar she smirks.

“Everyone thinks we’ve been dating for six months,” she whispers, rising up on her toes so her breath brushes Tayce’s ear.

If Tayce curses, Georgie doesn’t hear it. She’s too busy swinging her hips as she walks away.

“Tayceeeee,” comes a whine from the bathroom. None of the letters sound quite right but the meaning is there so Tayce puts down her coffee and slides a well-worn bookmark into an equally well-worn copy of pride and prejudice that she pretends she doesn’t read before hauling herself off the sofa in the direction of the bathroom.

“Georginaaaa,” she mocks back once it’s clear that nothing serious is going on.

Georgie has almost a full face of makeup on, sans lips and eyelashes but she’s still trying her very best to bat what she has. She’s sat on the counter, feet in the sink and toe separators on her feet as she finishes the final coat on her dusty pink toenails.

“Going out?” Tayce asks, a casual eyebrow raised and a soft smirk playing on her lips.

Georgie brightens up, “Astina and Bimini invited me out clubbing,” she explains animatedly. “I get to wear that dress I’ve been showing you but I want the rest to be perfect.

‘That dress’ in question is a slinky little number that’s been on the dress-form in Georgie’s bedroom/office/sewing room/dungeon for months. It’s baby pink and ruched and while Tayce doesn’t know any of the technical terms (she was not in the fashion school, nor does she claim she was) she knows it’s going to look gorgeous.

“Sounds fun,” she replies, though her tone is questioning and Georgie must pick up on that because she holds out a pair of flash eyelashes and an applicator with a smile.

“Can you put them on for me?”

They both know very well that Georgie can put on her own lashes - in the depths of the A’whora days, she wore them nearly every day and used to leave the house before Tayce had drunk enough coffee to feel alive. Nevertheless, Tayce leans forward, one hand holding Georgie’s cheek gently so she won’t move her head and the other hovering a lash over her eye. Her thumb strokes the prominent cheekbone under the soft skin and powder and Georgie’s breath flutters over Tayce’s pulse point.

The moment lasts forever but not quite long enough and Tayce leaves in a hurry, going back to Jane Austen and strong espresso.

She catches Georgie before she leaves, eyes trailing up and down her body appreciatively, though knowing Georgie likes her bike shorts just as much.

“For the love of god George please don’t fight anyone in the kebab shop - we’re running out of places,” she scolds, “And don’t get grumpy when you’re tired, save that for me - the girls won’t know how to handle you.” She feels like she’s wrapping a child up to send them to school but she just unlocks the door for Georgie and tells her that she’ll wait up.

Georgie pecks her on the cheek and leaves. Tayce turns the PlayStation on and tries to forget about the blonde in the pink dress grinding against half of London.

Tayce skitters across the gravel until she reaches Georgie, a hand wrapping around the satin covered waist as they queue to enter the church. She takes a deep breath and lets it out through her nose. She’s never been good with surprises.

Georgie notices (she always does), feels Tayce’s fingertips pressing into her ribs and gently removes the arm, intertwining their fingers instead so she can softly brush her thumb up and down Tayce’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, head falling against Tayce’s chest briefly. Tayce feels her heart rate slow from the contact and sighs, inhaling the scent of Georgie’s conditioner.

“It’s okay,” She uses her free arm to pat Georgie’s bum, trying to move the blonde along as they near the front of the line into the church.

At the very front of the line, just inside the ornate doors, is an older looking woman with chestnut coloured hair and a lavender chiffon dress. Georgie’s face lights up when she spots her and the woman gives her a motherly smile before embracing the blonde.

“Georgina,” she gushes, “it’s been so long.”

Georgie at least has the propriety to blush and she ducks her head abashedly. “Mrs Green- Margret,” she responds, “I’ve missed you.”

Mrs Green looks up, spotting Tayce hovering by the door and smiles lovingly, beckoning her over. “And who’s this lovely lady,” she asks Georgie with a bemused chuckle, watching as the girl blushes an even deeper red.

Tayce sees this as her moment and slides up next to her, hand wrapping around her waist, cheek resting on the top of her head. “I’m Tayce, Georgie’s girlfriend. It’s lovely to meet you Mrs Green and we’re so happy to be here.”

It slips out all too easy and even if she wasn’t prepared for this situation, somehow she is.

Mrs Green smiles. “Please, call me Margret,” she tells them graciously. “We’ll catch up later Georgina,” she informs them and then points them through another set of double doors.

They seat themselves towards the back of the pews, not wanting to encroach on family seating and Georgie twists her hands together until Tayce takes one of them in her own.

“Margret was like a mother figure to me,” she explains quietly, thoughtfully, “I feel bad for how out of touch I’ve become.”

Tayce just rubs her back, unsure of what to say.

She grew up popular. Her blonde hair was always pin-straight and her eyebrows spent half of high school looking like someone had drawn them on with melted chocolate but that was in vogue.

People loved her and feared her in half measure and she used it to her advantage, getting what she wanted and feeling like she was part of an American high school movie while she did it. That was until she got too high on her own bullshit.

She forgot she was from Worksop, she forgot she has friends from popularity instead of just her personality and she forgot that not everything always went well for the mean girls in the movies.

She came out. She’d known she was gay since she was in primary school when she used to want to play mummies and daddies and always asked to be the daddy. (Until her best friend Jade told her that girls couldn’t be daddies, because daddies couldn’t marry other daddies and girls have to marry daddies).

She came out and suddenly her mean girl personality was abrasive and arrogant, and she had to come to terms with who she was all over again.

Then she met Veronica.

Veronica was lovely and sweet and the captain of the theatre club - who wanted Aurora to help with sewing costumes.

“Call me Georgie,” the blonde has said. She’d wanted people to call her Aurora because she wanted to be special and Georgina was too plain. Apparently 'special’ meant being called a dyke and losing all your friends though, or so she figured.

Veronica did make her feel special.

She’d invite her round for tea - to her house on the nicer side of town - where they’d eat freezer waffles and pizza that tasted a little bit like cardboard but also like home. Margret Green would teach her to crochet and help with designs. And slowly, Worksop felt like home again.

And then she met Tayce - and learnt what it truly meant to feel special.

The ceremony passes quick enough, Tayce’s hand in Georgie’s. They only time they let go is when Georgie has to dig around in her purse for a tissue - the wedding not getting to her, but Tayce.

It’s a short drive to the gazebo for dinner but they still don’t let go of each other’s hands, Georgie’s wrapped over Tayce’s on the gearstick.

They finally let go when they enter the venue for the reception. The ceiling is lit with fairy lights that cast an ethereal glow and there’s ivy in the exposed fittings. There are four long tables set up and the seating chart is hell to find but they eventually spot 'Georgie and Tayce’ opposite Mrs Green making Georgie blush that they’re on the same table as the Bride and Groom.

“I mean I’m honoured,” She mutters to Tayce under her breath as they navigate the chairs, “I just didn’t realise I meant this much to her and honestly I would have worn a nicer dress.”

“Shush you,” Tayce replies, pulling a rustic looking chair out for her. She gently pushes it back in, taking her own seat and patting Georgie’s thigh comfortingly. “You look hot as shit.”

Georgie blushes but suddenly Margret Green sits down and she feels sixteen again. She ducks her head almost shyly and Margret chuckles.

“I’m not going to tell you and your girlfriend off Georgina,” she tells them both, nodding to Tayce who wonders if she might be sweating under the weight of Mrs Green’s gaze. Margret never quite stopped calling her her full name - it took long enough to break the habit of calling her Georgina Aurora. Sometimes you have to pick your battles.

“I know Mam,” Georgie replies, straightening back up with a smile.

“That’s better dear.”

They’ve taken a break from socialisation and are leaning against the bar - the party in full swing behind them. Georgie swirls the stick in her Vodka Cranberry while Tayce leisurely sips on her Mojito. The faintly golden light of the gazebo casts shadows on her face that make her look almost ethereal and Georgie just can’t stop looking.

“You enjoying yourself?” Tayce asks softly, and Georgie blushes under her gaze, nervous she’s been caught staring. She taps the stick against the side of her near-empty glass a few times and sighs.

“It’s nice,” she muses, looking over her shoulder at the rabble. “Weird, but nice.” There’s an odd tone to her voice and Tayce nods for her to continue, quietly sipping her drink.

“I guess I’m a little angry,” Georgie admits after a short pause. “About why they can all accept you with me now - but they couldn’t when I really needed them to."

Tayce reaches across the gap between the chairs, frowning slightly as she brushes a thumb under Georgie’s eye. The pad of it slides along her jaw again before Tayce brings her hand back to her lap and Georgie has to hold back a sigh at the loss.

"I’m sorry baby,” she replies, “I know that doesn’t help fifteen-year-old Georgie but I really am.” Her hand moves back up to cup the blondes Cheek and Georgie brings her own hand up to hold it there. She leans into it, revelling in the warmth.

“It’s okay. Really, it is. I have you now."

The pad of Tayce’s thumb brushes Georgie’s painted bottom lip and she may have been leaning in but Georgie suddenly sits bolt upright. Her eyes are wide and Tayce drops her hand reflexively before grabbing the hand in Georgie’s lap.

"Shit,” Georgie mumbles, eyes still staring at a figure in a suit a few feet away. She tugs on the hand Tayce is holding and drags her over to the dancefloor.

“That’s my ex.” She tells Tayce who’s just looking at her oddly. “He’ll try and hit on me so you,” she pats Tayce’s chest with a wink,“ are going to dance with me.”

Tayce sighs before smiling at the proposition. “Well it’s not exactly Salsa music but I’ll give it a go honey.”

They’re pressed together, chest to chest in the kitchen. As Tayce inhales, chest heaving, it sends vibrations through Georgie’s body.

Tayce has switched the speaker on out of boredom, dancing around where they used to have a dining table and showing off all her moves. She had gotten bored back in uni and used to frequent the salsa society on her free evenings. They’d all made jokes about it but it’s quite clear that none of her friends had taken it seriously when she sees the awe painted on Georgie’s features. She’d offered a hand and the blonde had taken it, allowing herself to be pulled close as they worked through the basics, rocking back and forth.

She spins Georgie but makes sure to pull her close again as the traditional salsa music finishes and a new song comes on.

“Don’t just stand there staring, honey. Try to move your feet,” Tayce sings along, her voice breathy but it doesn’t have to be stronger when her lips are brushing Georgie’s ear. She lets her free hand trace patterns into the parts of the blonde’s back not covered by her flimsy crop top.

“I can make it nice and easy,” she hums, looking down to see Georgie’s eyes are half-lidded, a coy smile playing on her lips. “I'ma take the lead. They ain’t even looking at you, baby."

She drops Georgie but catches her almost immediately - a move that makes the blonde intuitively grip her tighter.

"They’re looking at me."

Georgie locks her eyes on Tayce, not noticing if they drop a bit towards her lips. "Fuck.”

It may not be a salsa but it turns out that Tayce’s dancing skills don’t just lie in the world of Latin.

She pulls Georgie close to her - as she does whenever she has an excuse - and they sway to the music together. It’s reminiscent of the forties - a song for soldiers to dance to with their wives and all the couples are on the floor slow-dancing together.

“Impeccable timing,” Tayce whispers in Georgie’s ear, enjoying the way she shivers and yet moves even closer into Tayce. She always seems to have her bold moments and then goes back to letting Tayce be the big, strong night in shining armour.

Not that she minds.

As Georgie is a few inches shorter, she can tuck her head nicely under Tayce’s chin and it gives her the perfect vantage point to hear the way Tayce’s heartrate seems to be skipping beats.

She lifts her chin, looking up into Tayce’s green eyes and seeing them staring straight at her, a soft smile playing on the taller girls lips.

Tayce gets a funny feeling in her stomach, like she’s ingested butterflies and they’re trying to get out. Suddenly it all makes sense.

She places a hand under Georgie’s chin to hold her gaze and just smiles.

“I love you, you know,” she whispers, feeling like the music is all but silent.

They were drunk, hands travelling to places they wouldn’t normally dare - Tayce’s fingers trailing the lines of Georgie’s underwear through her dress.

The blonde giggles, hiccuping before hoisting herself up on the kitchen counter and pulling her shoes off. They land somewhere that will undoubtedly be a nuisance later but she’s too gone to care.

Tayce stands in between her legs, each hand resting on a smooth ivory thigh. “I can’t believe you shouted at that girl,” she says, lips pressing together as if she’s trying to look disapproving.

Georgie smirks, running a playful finger across the cut of Tayce’s jaw.

“She was looking at you,” she explains as if that’s a perfectly reasonable excuse and it almost makes Tayce chuckle. Instead, the welsh girl mimes biting Georgie’s finger, getting the blonde to laugh.

“She was the kebab girl… The cashier!” She pumps a fist triumphantly at remembering the right word. “She was the cashier. She was meant to look at us.”

“Noooo,” Georgie whines. “You’re not getting it, she was looking at you. Just you.” Tayce quirks her eyebrows, clearly still not getting it and her obliviousness makes Georgie lean forward to rest her forehead on Tayce’s shoulder. A sigh escapes her lips as she wonders if this is how Tayce feels putting up with her.

“She wanted you.” She states as plainly as she can. Her voice drops to just above a whisper, “she wanted you.”

It’s only then that she realises just how close they are - how she can feel Tayce’s hands on her thighs and the smell of daiquiris on her breath.

Their noses meet before their lips do until Tayce tilts her head just a little bit more and then it feels like something inside Georgie has snapped.

She pulls away, the back of her head bumping against the kitchen cabinet as she tries to reconcile what she just did with her own feelings.

It was good, too good, and it scared the living daylights out of her.

She slides sideways off the counter, leaving Tayce standing there - her dumb drunk face frozen in confusion.

Georgie’s eyes widen and then she shuts them, taking a deep breath. When they open again, tayce is still looking at her - though some of the sparkle in her eyes has dimmed and she suddenly feels the need to put all of it back.

She leans up, lets their lips brush against each other in a chaste kiss to test the waters but before she can pull away, Tayce has her bottom lip between her own.

She’s sure they’re being stared at but she can’t bring herself to care because she’s at a wedding and somehow she’s kissing the prettiest woman in the room.

Georgie finally pulls away, lips slightly swollen and lipstick smudging at the edges. her eyes are wet but they’re so bright.

“I love you too,” she murmurs, “ you fucking twat.”

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ongaku-ato-kakikomi · 4 years

Note

can i get poly yandere joe x reader x love headcannons?

(A/N): Kinda got away with this, but... oh well. Hope you’ll like it!

- You were dangerously getting too close to a guy you met online, and they didn’t like him one bit.

- Love hired a private investigator to check on the guy’s past, while Joe went out of his way to follow that stranger and learn about his intentions.

- Frankly, there was absolutely nothing wrong with him, but they both loved you so much that their minds kept twisting around anything they would come across.

- Love was the one to try and talk you out of dating, which ended up with you screaming at her in anger.

- That’s when they decided that they had to protect you from this world, especially when you couldn’t even listen to their words.

- Love invited you over her shared shop to cook you an apology dinner, which you foolishly accepted.

- You were in the middle of talking with Love in the kitchen when Joe arrived from behind you and put a chloroform rag against your mouth and your nose.

- It doesn’t take long for you to faint and fall into his arms, and Love gives out a sigh of relief as soon as it does so.

- Joe keeps apologizing to your unconscious mind the entire time that they’re driving towards the glass box’s location, his fingers caressing your forehead and pushing a few strands of hair out of your face.

- Love stays calm the entire drive; she’s the one with the sharp mind who came up with this entire plan to keep you safe.

- They filled the glass box with all the things you could possibly want beforehand, Joe gently putting your unconscious body against the mattress in the corner.

- When you wake up, all hell breaks loose.

- You’re screaming, you’re crying, you’re begging them to let you go, and it breaks their heart to see you like this.

- It hurts Joe even more because he swore to himself that he would never do this to you.

- But Love said that you gave them no choice.

- He spends the next weeks trying to soothe you, to help you familiarize yourself with your new environment.

- He constantly apologizes for what he’s done but tries to remind you that they’re doing this for your own protection. That they love you.

- He loves you so goddamn much.

- He gives you books to read when you have to be alone and gave you a radio to play your favorite CD’s.

- He tries to not show how much he’s hurting when you rip the pages of the books apart and break the radio down.

- He knows that this is going to take time; he’s seen it all before with Beck, and so he forgives you.

- Love’s the one who brings you food and tries to have normal conversations with you as if nothing didn’t happen.

- Reality kicks in when you refuse to eat anything or to answer her.

- One day she snaps and comes into the cage, forcing a muffin into your mouth.

- You have no choice but to eat it or else you were going to choke.

- She immediately apologizes once she realizes what she’s done, then goes on to explain that she only did that to prevent you from dying.

- Joe’s not happy when he learns about that and gets mad at her, which results in the two fighting in front of you.

- They rapidly make up before you can even think of a plan to use one of them to get out.

- Because of Love’s sudden attack, you tend to trust Joe more.

- He’s always calm with you and understanding, tries his best to explain what’s going on, and he also seems to know how wrong all of this is.

- He manages to win you over with his comforting words and his sweet smiles, those thing feeling like the only thing in your life after being trapped in the box for months.

- It takes a little more time for Love to gain your trust and your love.

- It takes months of food, friendly conversations, and compliments for you to even start talking back to her.

- Joe tries to convince you to give her a chance, which helps a lot.

- You finally give in when she cries and starts apologizing to everything she did to you, saying that she thought she was doing the right thing to protect you.

- She just loves you so much too.

- In the end, you develop feelings for them, finding yourself understanding why they did all of this.

- And if you think about it, maybe you would have done the same thing… right?

- It takes them time to finally let you out of the glass box, both of them having been betrayed by their victims in the past.

- But you don’t try anything, and that makes them so happy.

- I mean, why would you try to leave?

- No one could ever love you as much as they did.

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hankwritten · 3 years

Text

Long Time Listener, First Time Caller

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for @tokyotrain, Music

1. Reveille

There had never, ever, in the history of time or space, an instrument Demo hated more.

The bugle reverberated through the open window that someone had conspicuously left open, just in case the man in bed wouldn’t have been awakened by its bellows piercing through the glass. Not that that would ever happen. Demo was pretty sure he could’ve heard that damn instrument all the way in Hell, and grasped blindly for the pillow he could smother his own face in. It didn’t help. He shouldn’t be able to taste the cacophony the bugle was making, but there was the sting of copper on his tongue, as though his gums were bleeding in revolt.

“I’m going to kill him,” he muttered into the three layers of feathered pillows.

By the time he stumbled down to breakfast, there were bags under his eye, diluted homicidal intent on his face, and his fluffiest robe around his shoulders.

“And he’s finally up,” Mum said, and sipped her tea. Usually she’d be giving him an earful about his lazy behind tarrying in making her morning cup, but since she was smirking at his disheveled state, Soldier must have brewed it for her.

“Grrnn…” her son replied.

Coffee was the only thing that would make this morning better. Thankfully, there was a pot already brewing; Soldier wasn’t that heartless.

“I see you have acquired your morning cup of Joe!” Soldier said when he finally retired from his routine, sweeping into the kitchen on a wave of wholly unwelcome cheer. Beyond him—since the mansion didn’t have a flagpole, he’d found ways to make do—a rake was shoved into the lawn with a Stars ‘n Stripes bandana tied around it. This he erected every day at dawn. “Excellent! Now that you are refreshed and full of energy, you are capable of participating in post flag ceremony drills!”

Demo skipped the not on your life and went straight to, “I’m going to take that bloody thing and re-twist it until you can hang yourself with it.”

Mum laughed, and Soldier grinned jubilantly, confident in the knowledge that he would always win mornings.

2. Taunt

“Whomp whomp whaaaa,” the stupid bloody trombone played at him.

Half delirious from blood loss, Demo bared his teeth at the smug BLU above him who, as soon as he finished taunting, promptly executed his unwilling audience with a shotgun blast to the head.

This was the fifth time this had happened today, and Demo was pissed. Where was Soldier even keeping that thing? Every bloody time there was no sign of the instrument whatsoever, then as soon as victory was assured he reached into hammer space and pulled out five feet of tubing! It was ridiculous to drive a man crazy under the best of circumstances—but having it be your partner was something that garnered a certain degree of necessary revenge.

Demo had had enough. It was about time he did some stooping to Soldier’s level.

The next day, Demo managed to shove Soldier off Upward’s scaffolding with a well-timed shield bash. He couldn’t have hoped for a better opportunity, perfectly executed so Soldier hadn’t even gotten a kill on him that day, which might have ruined the ‘surprise’. He stood, one foot on the Soldier-shaped hole in the wood, and leaned on his knee.

“Nice of you to drop in!” he called.

“Eugh,” Soldier grumbled, impaled haphazardly on various bits of wood.

“As long as we’re both taking a breather, mind if get a bit of piping practice in?”

Not waiting for a reply, Demo pulled out the bagpipes that had been eagerly awaiting their time in the sun. Sitting as they had been for the past five years in the attic, derelict ever since he’d purchased them on a lark, he didn’t blame them. When he flexed the bag, dust came out the mouthpiece.

“Oh no,” Soldier said.

“Oh yes!” Demo disagreed, and began to play.

Soldier was in a very unfortunate situation, arm broken the exact wrong way to keep him from covering his own ears. Thus he was forced to listen as Demo played out a belching and eardrum-bleeding anti-tune, rippling the open air above the drop off with painful ineptitude.

“Never played a day in me life,” Demo said cheerfully as he ceased blowing into the bellows.

“And you should never do so again!” Soldier accused. “The only positive thing I can say about your first attempt is that thank God it is over!”

“Over?” Demo smirked. “Nah, there’s another four movements to get through.”

Soldier’s head flopped back in defeat, helmet rolling off into the abyss and eyes pointing at the sky. “Jesus and Thomas Edison, please give me strength.”

This was not heard over the resuming of what only the foolish and the damned would refer to as ‘music’.

3. Radio

“Do not touch that dial, maggot!”

“I’m shotgun, I get radio privileges.”

“Guh,” Soldier complained as Demo flipped until the NMDX began to flow from the box, polluting the airwaves with its electronic beats. “What even is this hippie garbage?”

“It’s disco, laddie!”

Demo was already grooving in his seat, dead set on enjoying the new wave in direct defiance of his partner’s annoyed twitch. Or, perhaps, maybe because of it.

Soldier grumbled. “Doesn’t make any damn sense! What’s a duck doing at a disco in the first place?”

“He wasn’t a duck when he went there,” Demo scoffed. “It’s like you’re not even listening to the song.”

“I’m trying not too.”

“Fine then! What do you like to listen to in the car?”

Soldier hummed quietly for a second, the fading carols of Rick Dees and His Cast of Idiots catching on the notes and escaping into the hum of the highway. After a moment of contemplation, Soldier peeled his eyes from the road and began to rummage about in the center console. This caused him to swerve wildly along the highway, other cars blaring their horns as the blue Camaro glided over the dotted line. Demo watched these events with mild interest.

“Aha!” Soldier exclaimed, emerging with an 8track clasped triumphantly in one hand. “This’ll get us to Springerville without all that play-it-backwards-to-alter-your-brainwaves nonsense!”

He slid the track into the Camaro’s player.

“…Welcome to the audio edition of the Farmer’s Almanac, for the year of our lord, 1972.”

“Oh god…”

“Hah!” Soldier brightened. “Now this is what I am talking about!”

It was going to be a long four hours.

4. Folk

Demo didn’t mind Soldier’s record, to be honest.

It seemed to be about something at least, more than he was used to the things Soldier liked being ‘about’ anything that wasn’t unquestioning patriotism. Sometime he wondered why, of all the folk records in the world, Soldier had decided to settle on Dust Bowl Ballads as his fixation in the realms of music. Americana of all kinds of blended together in Demo’s opinion, but despite the repetitive twang of the banjo and the stifling trite melody, even he could tell there was a story of deep melancholy to be found between the harmless little tunes.

So it wasn’t the fact that Soldier had a record. It was the fact that Soldier had a record, singular.

The idea that a person might purchase multiple albums over the course of their life and play them at different times when the mood struck them never seemed to have been explained to the Soldier. His concept to the record player was this: play the first side. When it was finished, flip it over and play the second side.

Repeat.

For hours.

No matter how sweet Woody Guthrie’s crooning was, having it repeated over and over again day in and day out could give anyone’s otherwise delightful performance all the dulcet notes of prison moonshine. It didn’t bother Soldier one bit it seemed—he would hum to himself merrily as he sat on the chaise, perfectly content to dissemble his shotgun on the coffee table while the same fifteen songs played.

“Y’know love,” Demo tried. “The reason records don’t come glued on to their players is because you can put other ones on. Look.”

He delicately switched out Ballads for something from his own collection, setting the needle so it could fall where it willed.

Soldier eyed the player dubiously as an entirely different style began to fall from the trumpet’s maw, grease rag in hand.

“I don’t get it,” he said as the first refrain came to a close. “You can’t understand a word she’s saying. What’s the point if you don’t know what’s going on?”

“You can’t understand it because it’s in Gaelic, lad.”

Soldier furrowed his brow. “Are you being vulgar at me right now, maggot?”

“Ach, no! I…” Demo sighed. Sometimes why he wondered why he even bothered. “Gaelic’s the language. It’s rare that anyone’ll make records in traditional tongues, but I had a few and I just thought…ah never mind.”

Gently he slid the record back into its sleeve and put Ballads back on.

“…Okay,” was all Soldier said, still frowning as Demo exited the room.

Demo wasn’t so callous to admit he hated the damn thing aloud, not when he could tell it made Soldier honestly, genuinely happy. They’d rib each other for their interests all the time, but not for something this important, and he resigned himself to having Woody as an unwanted houseguest for the rest of time.

That was, until a dreadful cold found him alone in the living room and unwilling to move.

The sickness (and Mum) had demanded he get plenty of bed rest, but he was just so bloody tired of spending all his time between the same four walls and occasionally the bathroom. He’d thought, well, there’s no harm in a quick trip downstairs, only to discover that once he’d gone horizontal on the couch, he lost all motivation to go back up those stairs.

That was how Soldier found him, cocooned in every blanket in the living room, blinking up pitifully as sniffled at his partner. To his credit, Soldier didn’t chastise him for sneaking out of bed; he simply sighed, moved the tissues box closer, and got Demo a cup of tea.

This was all unsurprising, if sweet. What was surprising was—as Demo lay with his back to the majority of the room—the sound of a record sliding into the player. A moment later the room was reendowed with Fear a Bhàta, the song flowing over his senses as he huddled for warmth under his blanket pile. He lifted his head to look at Soldier, who merely shrugged. That was all. Then he sat down on a chair near his Demoman and opened up an issue of Guns & Haircuts.

After that, sometimes Demo would come home to find a piece from his library playing, wafting through the mansion’s halls with no objection from its audience. If Jane had truly changed his mind, or was just doing it for Demo’s benefit, Demo couldn’t tell, but he appreciated the gesture all the same.

5. Piano

“Nothing?” Demo asked as his hands stilled across the keys, the last notes echoing in the music room to the resounding absence of symphony. The only thing left to fill it was the painfully normal sounds of two people simply being alive. “Not a single word of complaint?”

Soldier grinned, and shrugged. “Maybe we found something we can agree on.”

“And that something so happens to involve me doing all the work.” But despite that he grinned, taking Soldier’s hand and rubbing a thumb across the bones along its back, a private concert undergone and concluded. “You should help out. Grab a microphone, lay sultrily across my piano. That’d jazz up the performance.”

“Sounds like a good way to break a piano.”

“Excuses excuses.”

Soldier leaned down, capturing Demo’s mouth in a kiss, knees pressed against the back of the bench, hand still in Demo’s. When he they parted, Demo thought of how he always tasted like gunpowder, no matter how long it’d been.

Soldier smiled against Demo’s lips. “Play us another?”

“So demanding,” Demo smiled, and put fingers back to ivory.

#demosolly #boots n bombs #tf2 fanfiction

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westallenfun · 3 years

Text

Two's Company (3/3)

Westallen secret santa gift

For: Lauren (@backtothestart02) (Happy holidays! I hope you like this fic!)

From: Lina (@cheryls-blossomed)

A/N: A special thank you to my beta, Caroline (@ginandweas).

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma and the blissfulness and hardship of tumbling into true love. On the eve of publication of the most important article of her professional career thus far, Iris West realizes that she is head over heels in love with her best friend Barry Allen, but she grapples with revealing her feelings, for fear of ruining their friendship. But a weekend trip to Metropolis sets in motion a series of events, romantic mishaps and conundrums abound, that may force Barry and Iris to face some long-awaited, romantic truths.

Rating: T (Warning: Mild Language)

The mezzanine just above the ballroom of the Time Metropolis is a well-furnished carpeted landing with at least seven chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and a wide, glass balcony supposedly for onlookers to look upon the dancing masses below. There are refreshment stalls, serving a variety of beverages, and waiters carrying platters of an assortment of appetizers, including chili lime shrimp cups, fried okra, and goat cheese bites.

When the elevator arrives at the floor of the mezzanine, Iris steps out alongside her father and Cecile and sees that most people are milling around, chatting with one another. It would seem that no one has yet headed down the stairs to the ballroom, which holds the promise of a night of dancing. Furthermore, nobody seems to have noticed Joe, Cecile, and Iris’s arrival yet, as they are several feet away from everyone, which comes as somewhat of a relief for Iris, as she scans the room quickly, her eyes searching for one person only. Sure enough, she finds him, seated at a table, head pressed into his palm, a glass of wine before him, and wearing a distinctly melancholy expression. He is seated beside Cisco and Cynthia, who are conversing with one another, but looking over at him every few seconds, worryingly. Iris swallows, twisting her fingers behind her back, as she feels her sadness and anger dissipate, upon seeing how utterly torn up he looks, and she knows she must speak with Barry. She feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up to see her father giving her a reassuring smile, which she returns. When she looks back, she sees that Barry has seen her, as have Cisco and Cynthia. Cynthia appears jovial, leaving the table to come greet them, followed by Cisco, just as other guests begin noticing the new arrivals and start walking over to congratulate Joe and Cecile.

But Iris cannot tear her gaze away from Barry.

Because he’s regarding her like he never has before, as if the wind has been knocked out of him, as if he’s been rendered utterly speechless by her mere presence, gazing at her utterly wide-eyed, and the sheer intensity of the number of emotions his look conveys is too much for Iris, so she looks down at the floor, breathing deeply.

“Hi, Iris,” someone says, and Iris glances to her left and smiles politely when she sees Patty approaching towards her. She appears to be alone, which strikes Iris as odd, but perhaps what is even stranger, now that she thinks about it, is that Eddie is nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Patty,” Iris replies. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thank you. I think I just needed to get some rest. Between traveling and then going out last night, I think I was just over tired.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad you’re feeling better now.” An awkward silence descends upon them, and Iris is unsure how to progress the conversation, but she can sense that Patty wants to say something further.

“Are you here by yourself?” Iris queries, intuitively determining that perhaps Patty’s odd behavior might have to do with Eddie’s conspicuous absence.

“You noticed, huh,” Patty bites out sardonically. “I’m supposed to be here with Eddie. In fact, Eddie is literally supposed to be here, because he’s hosting the night. But I waited for him for like thirty minutes in the lobby, and he never showed up, so I came here, thinking perhaps he’d forgotten to meet me— wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that —but he’s not here either. I’ve been calling him and texting him, but he’s being absolutely unresponsive.”

“You’re not worried, are you? Because I’m sure he’ll turn up. As you said, he is hosting this.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Patty says. “I asked at the concierge if they’d seen him, and they said he had stepped out earlier today. And that Katie was with him.” Iris’s eyebrows raise, as she takes in this information. For she now realizes that Katie is also not present, and after she and Eddie had acted so bizarrely around each other yesterday, it is not particularly surprising that there is more to that story.

“So, they’re likely not coming here tonight,” Iris concludes, and Patty shrugs,

“So much for being a great host. Anyways, how am I supposed to tell Cecile that her god son might not be attending the gala he’s throwing in her and her husband’s honor?”

“Just tell her the truth, but don’t make it seem like Eddie abandoned her. I mean, we honestly don’t know where he is or why he is so delayed, but he could still make an appearance later tonight, after all.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Iris.” Iris nods, smiling reassuringly, as Patty heads over to Cecile who is standing a few feet away, chatting with one of the other guests. For a few moments, Iris is alone, as she mulls over Eddie and Katie’s absence, wondering what was so urgent that they had to leave right before Eddie was meant to begin hosting this gala for Joe and Cecile. Apart from his apparent inability to be a good host, it just seems so sudden, especially since Katie had been clearly trying to goad Eddie last night, by paying him no attention, and he had taken the bait with all his fuming and glowering.

A proffered glass of champagne enters her line of vision, and when Iris looks up, she sees Barry, handsome as ever in his tuxedo, holding the glass in front of her. His eyes are warm, conveying an abundance of emotions, and he’s smiling at her softly.

“Hi,” he says, almost a whisper.

“Hi,” she breathes, her voice also very quiet. They’re both gazing at each other, neither saying a word, before Barry lets out a small laugh, remembering himself.

“You look incredible,” he murmurs, as if in absolute awe, and the way he says it, with such reverence, makes her heart soar.

“Thank you, Barry. You look very handsome.”

He blushes, ducking his head, slightly, before continuing, “Uh, this is… this for you. I wanted to save a glass for you, because it’s elderflower and… you know, I realize now that there’s a bar, which I’m sure is probably stocked, now that I think about it… yeah, I’m sure it is, but at the time, I thought they might run out of glasses of champagne, because it didn’t seem like they had too many left being passed around. But I definitely wasn’t thinking about the bar. So, well, this is… for you, if you want it, of course. Do you want it? Because I can take it back and then…”

“Yes, I want it,” Iris chuckles, interrupting his rambling, which she finds utterly endearing, as Barry nervously runs a hand through his hair. “Thank you, Barry. I do love elderflower champagne.”

“Yeah, I know,” he answers softly. There’s something in his voice at that moment… an emotion that Iris cannot quite pinpoint, but it nonetheless ignites an intense warmth within her, and when she glances up at him, he’s regarding her almost sadly, like he wants so very much to tell her something, but he is unable to. She wants to tell him that it’s okay, that he can tell her anything and everything that he wants, but before she can, he whispers, “You’re wearing the necklace.” Her hand comes up to touch the wedding band, and she nods, smiling,

“Of course, I am. My best friend gave it to me.” He breathes out harshly, taking a step closer towards her, reaching his hand towards hers, almost as if by instinct.

“Iris, I need—,” he begins, but he is cut off by Cisco and Cynthia racing up to the both of them, having just congratulated Joe and Cecile and chattering about Eddie Thawne’s absence, of all things. Iris has half a mind to stare them both down for interrupting her moment with Barry, but decides against it, because she knows they didn’t exactly mean to tumble in on a private moment. Barry, on the other hand, does not seem to agree with this sentiment, for he is shooting Cisco a dark look, although Cisco, thankfully, seems oblivious.

“Can you believe Eddie isn’t even here?” Cisco asks immediately, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.

“I’m actually very surprised by him not turning up on time,” Cynthia replies. “I cannot imagine Eddie Thawne missing a gala that he, himself, is hosting. This is completely and utterly his element.”

“Katie isn’t here either. Apparently, she and Eddie went off somewhere earlier today and didn’t return. Patty told me,” Iris says, and Barry’s brow furrows at that, before he adds,

“I knew something was off between those two yesterday. It would maybe explain why the vibe was just completely off last night, like something just wasn’t adding up.” Iris catches Barry’s eye at that moment, and she feels her pulse race, upon the realization that Barry was apparently as completely befuddled and equally bemused about what was going on with Katie and Eddie as they all were. And that could only mean one thing, right?

“I think that much was obvious to all of us,” Cynthia replies, rolling her eyes. “Those two are a pair of absolute paragons of etiquette and normalcy when they’re around each other, aren’t they?” Everyone laughs at that, likely recalling the rather odd behavior both Katie and Eddie engaged in the previous night, which strengthens Iris’s resolve that perhaps she had been completely mistaken about what she had witnessed between Barry and Katie, although that betraying voice reminds her of the dinner at Marano’s, much to her chagrin. She is aware, though, that that is a question that needed answering. Eventually. Because at the moment she is certain that she wants to find that equilibrium again with Barry, before diving headlong into conversations that would likely change everything.

Quiet orchestral music begins to play, and a man steps up onto the mezzanine, gesturing with his hands towards Joe, Cecile, and the rest of the guests.

“I am the manager of the Time Metropolis. Mr. Thawne is unfortunately detained tonight, although he hopes to make an appearance later on. He asks that we host this night in his absence, and so if I could invite the guests of honor, Mr. West and Ms. Horton, and everyone else to please head to the ballroom, then we can officially commence the festivities.”

“Thank you,” Joe says, holding out his hand to Cecile. After she takes his hand, and the two of them begin to head down the double staircase to the rather ornate ballroom, apparently modeled after some Baroque-style palace, the rest of the guests follow. Iris can feel Barry’s eyes on her as they walk down the stairs, even though she is a few feet in front of him, and a feeling of great anticipation washes over her, as she ponders how the night might unfold.

As they reach the bottom of the staircase, Cynthia stumbles on the second to last step, and Iris lurches forward to steady her friend, but in doing so, she too loses her footing momentarily, and she thinks they might both end up tumbling down together, but just as she catches Cynthia’s arm, one hand comes around her waist, the other on the small of her back, preventing her from falling. Indeed, Cynthia is able to catch her balance, with Iris steadying her then, and she smiles gratefully up at Iris.

“Thanks,” she says, and Iris nods with a smile,

“Of course.” But her concentration is on the two hands holding her, for they’re Barry’s hands, and she is extremely aware of his touch against her bare back, his fingers gripping her gently, but firmly. She turns to look at him, just as he asks,

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Bear. You saved both of us from tumbling down stairs in our gowns,” she replies, chuckling slightly, as Cynthia smirks, watching both of them closely,

“Yes, of course Barry did.” Noticing Cynthia’s knowing look, Barry and Iris smile sheepishly, seemingly embarrassed, but Barry does not step away from Iris, still holding her, the imprint of his hands hot against her.

The live orchestra is situated near the end of the large ballroom, and the conductor raises her baton, signaling that the musicians are about to begin performing a piece. Cynthia quickly says,

“I’m going to go see if Cisco wants to dance. Bye!” Before she walks away towards Cisco who is already near the center of the room. Iris shakes her head fondly, before Barry asks,

“Do you… would you like to dance, Iris?” His tone is soft and full of longing, and Iris recognizes the gravity of this moment.

“I would love to,” she replies, her face shining with a number of emotions, and she is uninterested in attempting to mask everything that she is feeling. She wants Barry to know. He smiles, releasing his grasp around her waist and back, and holding out his hand to her, which she takes in her own. As his fingers enclose around hers, she shivers for a moment, not of any cold air, but rather because of the intensity with which she knows that she loves him.

They make their way slowly into the ballroom, where the orchestra is playing a sultry musical piece, and Barry’s left arm comes around Iris, his hand settling at her waist, while he holds her left hand in his right. Her free arm goes around his neck and for a few moments they simply sway in each other’s arms, gazing at each other. Barry leads her around the other couples, but Iris barely realizes that they are in a ballroom full of other people, for she feels, within his arms, as if they are the only two people in the world. His eyes do not leave hers for even a moment, and it is hard not to mistake what he’s feeling in that moment, for his emotions are visibly ablaze upon his face. She wonders then how she possibly could have misread one night, when there had been so many signs telling her that he feels in their most intense moments all that she feels, but she supposes that the tricky thing about loving her best friend was the debilitating fear that he may not feel the same way. The fear that if she voiced her feelings, she could lose the safe harbor of their friendship forever. But change is sometimes not only good, but imperative. And perhaps that is the most integral part of what they shared; their need to trust each other in order to fully realize that their friendship was perhaps never simply platonic ever.

Iris moves closer to Barry in his arms, as they continue to dance, laying her head against his chest, feeling the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear. She closes her eyes, savoring his touch, while Barry’s arm tightens around her, his lips brushing against the crown of her head in a soft kiss. The music crescendos as they dance, coming to a natural end, and applause from the other couples erupt around them, but Barry and Iris, break apart only slightly, both of his hands now holding her waist, while his forehead comes to rest against her own. Iris’s hands slide up his chest, resting just below his bowtie, and they both breathe deeply, trying to mentally navigate what they are supposed to do next. It is apparent to Iris now that they cannot possibly put off the inevitable any further.

“We should talk,” she says, brushing her nose against his.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, dazed. She smiles, feeling his breath fanning against her lips, and realizes then just how physically proximate they are to one another.

“Privately, Bear,” she urges softly. He nods, seemingly coming back to his senses and registering that they are currently in a room full of other people. They move apart, slowly, his hands caressing her as he backs away, and Iris immediately misses the warmth of his arms around her.

“Right. I’m sure we can find somewhere private away from all of this. It’s a hotel after all.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” she replies, raising her eyebrows. He grins lopsidedly at her, and without another word, he takes her hand and leads her out of the ballroom, and she wonders if anyone has noticed them, but finds herself not particularly caring if everyone is indeed watching their abrupt exit. Once they climb up the stairs and reach the mezzanine again, nodding politely towards a few members of the hotel staff milling about there, Barry looks around searchingly, and Iris is aware that he is trying to determine where they ought to go. She squeezes his hand, before saying, “Let’s just go to my room. Otherwise we’re going to be running around this whole hotel searching for a quiet place.” Barry lets out a breathy chuckle,

“Yeah, good idea, otherwise we’d be something like a pair of high school teenagers at prom, running around the venue for somewhere private.”

“We did miss out on prom, though. Together, I mean,” she replies wistfully. Perhaps there’s something distinctly poignant about her tone, because Barry pulls Iris closer to him, his hand settling gently at the base of her neck, and he’s regarding her, adoringly.

“But we did get our dance, even if it is thirteen years later.” She smiles, her eyes glistening with unshed tears,

“Yes, we did.” At that Barry drops his hand to hold hers once more, and he presses the call button for the elevator, and as they await the lift, all Iris can feel is both deep contentment and love.

When Iris enters her hotel room with Barry, it is with an internal sigh of relief, for the short journey from the mezzanine to the third floor of the Time Metropolis felt torturous, as they both were jittery with anticipation, but unable to truly voice anything until they were within the safety of a private room. Upon entering the room, Barry immediately begins pacing, while Iris busies herself by pouring them both glasses of water from a jug situated on the bedside table. She proffers one to Barry, and he stops fidgeting for a moment to take it.

“Thank you,” he says, gratefully, and they both sip from their glasses. Iris figures that she ought to convince Barry not to resume walking around the room, so she sits down on the edge of the bed and kicks off her heels. “You make it looks so graceful,” he sighs, coming to sit next to her, clutching his glass tightly.

“What do you mean?” she asks, and he turns, so that he’s facing her fully. Iris carefully places her hand over his, loosening his hold on his glass, hoping to help alleviate some of his nervous energy.

“Everything you do. It’s so graceful. So beautiful. I just…”

“Bear,” Iris starts, but Barry shakes his head quickly,

“You don’t have to say anything, Iris. I know that I messed up yesterday, but the truth is I’ve been messing things up for years now.”

“No, Barry, you haven’t,” Iris counters, while Barry puts his glass down on the floor beside his feet. Determining that they have now arrived at the point where all their cards are about to be laid out before them, Iris does the same with her own glass. When she places her now empty hands back on her lap, one of Barry’s hands encloses one of hers, gently prying her fingers open, so that her right palm is facing upwards, resting on her knee, before he interlocks her fingers with his. He brings their joined hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles, slowly, reverently. “Bear…” she whispers, but she is unsure what to say, recognizing that they are on a precipice of change.

“I owe you an explanation. I owe you so much more than that, but perhaps I can start with an explanation. But first, I am so sorry, Iris. About last night. I didn’t… I obviously was taken aback when I saw Katie again, and her over-friendliness was a source of confusion for me, but I guess I didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with everything she was saying, but I shouldn’t have even let her say anything. And if I’d been unable to stop her, I should have shut down all of the absurd insinuations she was clearly trying to make. I was put on the spot, not that that’s an excuse, but when I saw you… when I saw your face, I knew I’d screwed up really badly. Because to see you look so upset and to know that I was the reason for it, I don’t… god, Iris, it felt like a knife to my chest, and all I could think about was how much of an absolute idiot I am,” Barry begins, speaking rapidly, voice trailing off at the end, and he’s looking at her so earnestly, as if the worst thing in the world to him is being the cause of even an ounce of her sadness, and goodness she just wants to take his face in her hands and tell him that he is her happiness. But she stops herself, because she knows they have to get through this conversation.

“Bear, I’m not upset or angry with you now. But I was, especially right after Katie said what she said, when we had had that moment in my room just hours before, when you came to give me this.” And here she picks up the wedding band sitting between her collar bones to emphasize her point. “It just felt like everything we had shared had been rendered insignificant in that moment. Like it was nothing. And then I thought I had maybe read the moment wrong, but whenever I go over what happened in my head, I know that you were feeling what I was in that moment.”

“You weren’t reading that moment wrong, Iris. Not for a second,” Barry says, using his free hand to cup her cheek. She leans into his touch, closing her eyes for just a moment. “We almost kissed in your room, and I… there is nothing more that I wanted to do than kiss you. And then Cynthia interrupted, which wasn’t her fault, obviously, but I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t extremely frustrated, especially because we seem to have been interrupted throughout our lives a countless number of times.” He chuckles ruefully then, but Iris’s breath hitches, as she mulls over his words, particularly, there is nothing more that I wanted to do than kiss you. If only she could ask him then how he truly feels about her. If only she could tell him how she truly feels about him.

“But what about the dinner at Marano’s?” she queries, instead, for that betraying voice in her head refuses to let her move past that. Surely, Katie did not completely make that up, for even if she was simply saying all that she did to get a rise out of Eddie, telling complete falsities seemed a step too far. And there was the added anxiety that Barry had not corrected her then.

“Yeah, yeah, that was… Katie completely mischaracterized that dinner. I know it was dinner at Marano’s, but what she failed to mention is that Matt, who’s her cousin, as you know, was there as well, and the whole thing came about, because Katie showed up when I was tutoring Matt, and Old Mrs. Rogers was adamant that we all go out to dinner. But she was feeling unwell, and nonetheless insisted that we go, and it was impossible to say no, especially because Matt really wanted to go. I’m… I should have set the record straight last night, because I knew what Katie was trying to imply, and she was completely wrong on that account,” Barry replies, all in one breath, and he looks so pained that he’d let this fester, without correcting Katie’s white lie immediately, but Iris lets out a soft laugh, then,

“If you could have seen the scenarios I’d somehow managed to cook up in my head… Looking back, I realize they were probably irrational, and I should have just asked you, myself, but I was devastated and angry, and I think I just needed time to myself at that moment.”

“Iris, I am so, so sorry. Just the thought that you’d been in any kind of pain, because of me… god, I’m such an idiot,” he says, his fists clenched on his lap, and his tense form causes Iris worry. She frames his face with her hands, caressing his cheek with her thumb, hoping to soothe him. She leans in to rest her forehead against his, and for a few moments, all Iris can hear is their breathing, as she feels some of the tension in Barry’s muscles dissipate.

“It’s okay, Barry. This is not your fault. We just both stumbled into a series of romantic mishaps, because of someone else’s lies. But we’re here now,” Iris soothes. Barry grins at that, fully relaxing then.

“Romantic mishaps, huh?” he teases gently. She moves away from him just slightly to look at him properly, chuckling,

“Would you characterize it otherwise?”

“Not at all. Especially because Cisco said that you and I have been constantly tumbling into romantic mishaps throughout our entire adult lives. I was so mad at him, both last night and today, because he kept saying that I couldn’t call you or text you… and you should have seen me today. I was oscillating between walking around like a zombie and ranting at Cisco about how he could put me through this. He wouldn’t budge, though, repeatedly telling me that I needed to give you a day’s worth of space and that I’d see you at the gala. And I was going out of my mind the entire day. But now,” he says, bringing his hands to her waist, slowly, tentatively. “I think maybe he was right.” Iris silently agrees, because despite her initial frustrations over Barry having not reached out to her today, Cisco was probably right in refusing to allow him to call or text her. They both clearly needed the day to work through their emotions by themselves.

“Well, Cisco is quite wise,” she remarks in response.

“Drove me insane today, but yeah, he has his moments,” Barry jokes, and Iris laughs. “God, I love your laugh.” Iris raises an eyebrow at that, as she simultaneously runs her fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes for a moment, as if relishing her touch.

“You love my laugh?” she asks in jest, but his expression becomes solemn, and he pulls her closer to him, his hands remaining on her waist.

“Always have. I remember,” he begins, slowly, carefully. “…When we first met. My mom had brought me to the playground when I was ten, and I’m pretty sure I was upset about the new move to Central City, so she probably took me there, so that I could blow off some steam. And I’d somehow managed to swing myself so aggressively that I’d tumbled headfirst into the dirt. I was so angry and annoyed, and I’m pretty sure about to start crying, but then there was this small hand…” At this, one of his hands release her waist, and he grasps her hand, intertwining their fingers. “…Reaching out to me. That was when I’d first met you, and you were smiling and asking if I was okay, and I’m sure I said something stupid, because I was kind of in awe. But you laughed and told me that I was funny, and I’m quite sure… no, I know that that was the moment that I fell absolutely in love with you, Iris. Or maybe it was a year later when my dad died, and you found me crying in a corner, hours after everyone had left, after they’d all come by to pay their condolences, and you stayed up all night with me, holding me. Looking back, I knew I loved you then. But when you’re a kid, you can’t truly fathom love, but I knew I had a total crush on you, and when I was about sixteen years old, I identified that what I felt for you was love. I was in love with my best friend, but I didn’t know how to tell you, because I was so afraid that I would completely ruin our friendship. And yet, the years that have past since our childhood and young adulthood just strengthened my feelings. I’m more in love with you today than I was when we were children.” As Barry speaks, he holds absolutely nothing back, wearing his heart on his sleeve, and Iris tells herself to steady her breathing. Because she is aware that if she is completely honest with herself, she has known that Barry reciprocates her feelings for a long time, but to have him tell her, to have him say that he’s in love with her… there is nothing that could prepare her for this moment.

“You’re incredible, Iris,” Barry continues. “I don’t think you even realize how amazing you are. You jump headlong into seeking the truth, with little care to your own safety, because you so innately believe in the importance of preserving justice and saving lives. You see the best in people, no matter what, but most of all you inspire people. I’ve told you time and again that you’re my hero, Iris West. But more than that, whenever I see you, it’s akin to coming home for me. I’ve struggled with the concept of home and where that might be for me, especially after my dad died when I was a kid, but I’ve realized that home is not a place. It never has been for me. Instead, it’s a person. It’s you. Whenever I need to get away from the rest of the world, my safety net is you. You’re whom I always run to. Because you’re my home, Iris, and you always have been. I love you deeply. And I promise that I’ll dedicate every day to loving you… if you’ll have me of course.” Tears spill from Iris’s eyes then, which Barry immediately catches with his thumbs, gently brushing them aside, as he cups her face. He’s smiling so widely at her, his own eyes glistening, and she finds herself contemplating how surreal this moment truly is.

“You really have quite a way with words, Barry Allen,” she says, her voice shaking, slightly.

“Only for you. You’re the storyteller, after all. I’m just the boy luck enough to love you,” he replies, and Iris’s heart soars, completely overwhelmed with love for the man sitting before her.

Then she begins,

“Well, I suppose I should tell you about the day that I am quite sure was a moment of exceptional clarity for me. We were in the eighth grade, and I was overworked as Editor of the Central City Junior High Gazette, because none of my fellow cub reporters were completing their articles on time. Unfortunately, not all fourteen-year-olds took their responsibilities as junior reporters in training as seriously as I did mine. It was nearing the end of the day, and I still was short two articles, and I was nearly in tears over the stress of the realization that I was going to need to cover two stories, myself, in a matter of twenty-four hours, because we needed to fill the page quota necessary for publication. The door of the classroom opened, and you enter, and I didn’t know what it was about seeing you then, but the moment I saw you, the dam broke, and I was sobbing. And you raced over and hugged me and asked me what was wrong, and when I told you, you simply said that we were going to find two stories to cover together and that you’d stay over at my place for the entire night, if you had to, helping me. And in that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay.

Because the truth is Barry, you are my rock. You’re always there for me no matter what, and I didn’t know then why I finally cried only when I saw you, but I know now. I felt safe to fully release my frustrations and anxieties, despite still being in school, because you were with me. Whether you’re entering Jitters to meet me or racing through the doors of the Citizen with Big Belly Burger take-out, I’m home the moment I see you. I love you, Barry. I love you so, so much, and I’m completely yours. I always have been, and I always will be.” At the end of her declaration, Barry is gazing at her both lovingly and ardently, and he says,

“And I am totally yours.” With his hands still cupping her face, he surges forward and captures her lips with his, kissing her hungrily and passionately. This kiss is years in the making, and there is no easing into it, as Iris gasps into Barry’s mouth, her hands climbing up his chest, until one hand settles at the nape of his neck, while the other remains near his heart. She presses herself even closer, wanting to be as physically proximate to him as she can, and he evidently wants the same, for he secures one arm around her back, pulling her smoothly into his lap, until she’s straddling him underneath her long gown. There are vague warning bells in her head, reminding her that she might tear her dress, but she is hardly concerned about that, figuring that her dress can certainly weather a night of her finally kissing the love of her life.

Meanwhile, Barry’s hands have bunched up the skirt of Iris’s dress to her hips and are roaming the smooth skin of her now bare legs, and his mouth leaves hers and moves to the skin below her earlobe, before slowly kissing the side of her jaw and then her neck.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?” he murmurs huskily, then.

“I think you might have,” she chuckles, breathlessly.

“Well you look absolutely beautiful,” he responds, before kissing her again, this time more languidly, taking his time to really explore her mouth. Iris responds, cupping his chin with one hand, equally enjoying his more relaxed kisses as she did his passionate kisses moments ago.

She then pulls away for a moment, and Barry groans, chasing her mouth, but instead she undoes his bowtie, with nimble fingers, and takes in his flushed lips, dilated pupils, and mussed up hair, and she’s sure she has never been more content than in this very moment.

“I love you,” she says, as he buries his head in her chest and mumbles something incoherent. “Bear?”

He turns his head to the side, so that she can hear him when he states, rather hoarsely,

“Iris, when I said I was yours, I meant it. Seriously, I’d literally do anything for you.” Iris smirks at that, maneuvering his head gently away from her chest, so that they were eye to eye, before replying,

“That could turn out to be a very dangerous statement, Barry Allen.” Barry grins, rising to the challenge.

“I’d be more than happy to indulge in a little danger where it involves Iris West,” he responds. Iris raises her eyebrows at that and brings her lips to Barry’s, coaxing his mouth open with hers. He wraps his arm tightly around her lower back, while his free hand dips under the hem of her gown, bunched up at her waist, brushing his fingers teasingly against the soft skin of her abdomen, while she runs one hand through his hair, as the other unbuttons his dress shirt. Her hips buck against his, as she caresses his bare chest with her thumb, soliciting a moan from him, which she quietens by deepening their kiss.

Barry lifts Iris, then, and in one movement lays her on the bed, as he hovers over her, before gently moving his lips from hers to trail soft kisses down the length of her neck. Just as he reaches her collarbone, there is a loud banging on their door, and Barry groans loudly, dropping his head to her chest. Iris sighs, running a hand through his hair, when a voice that most definitely belongs to Cisco yells out,

“Barry? Iris?”

“If we ignore him, do you think he’ll go away?” Barry mumbles, just as Cynthia says rather loudly,

“We know you two are in there, so don’t pretend you can’t hear us.” Barry audibly grumbles, while Iris chuckles,

“Baby, I admire you wanting to ignore those two, but I really don’t think they’re going to leave.” Barry lets out a puff of breath that fans against Iris’s skin, and he slowly rolls away from her, sitting up and placing a pillow in his lap, perhaps in an attempt to be discrete, although privately Iris knows that Cisco is absolutely going to comment gleefully on his friend’s state of disarray. Meanwhile, she gets up and adjusts her dress, so that it falls back over her legs and walks over to the vanity mirror, grabbing a make-up cloth to wipe off her now smudged lipstick. She’s quite sure that she’s already sporting love bites on her neck and shoulders, but she cannot seem to bring herself to care about concealing them.

Once she’s satisfied that she’s as presentable as she can possibly be, given the circumstances, she opens the door of her hotel room and sees Cisco and Cynthia standing by the threshold, both wearing similarly smug expressions.

“Iris!” Cisco says, clapping his hands together, dramatically, while Cynthia scrutinizes her, before asking,

“What’s that on your neck?” Although her tone suggests that this is no innocent question, and she’s simply trying to put Iris on the spot, Iris refuses to take the bait, instead querying,

“Are you two going to come in? I imagine you’re here to deliver urgent news.”

“Patience,” Cisco replies, jovially, as he enters the room and spots Barry, sitting on the edge of the bed. At this sight, Cisco seems positively gleeful. “Nice pillow, Barry.”

“You are an ass,” Barry mutters darkly, not bothering to greet his friend.

“Love you too, man. And by the way,” Cisco chuckles, throwing his arm around Iris. “It’s because of me that this happened.” He gestures between Barry and Iris. “Without me apparently putting Barry through absolute misery today, the two of you would have continued your decades long song and dance of refusing to acknowledge that you are madly in love with each other.” Iris shrugs off Cisco’s arm, rolling her eyes, fondly.

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Cisco,” she says.

“Mmhmm, forget West-Allen Matchmakers. I think Ramon and Sons, Experts in Match-Making is the real success story.”

“Is that so? Because I’m pretty sure the two of you have been clearly enjoying each other’s company, and Barry and I can definitely take some credit there,” Iris replies, raising an eyebrow, and Cisco blushes at that, tucking his shoulder-length hair behind his ears.

“Well, for two people who apparently are champions at setting everyone else up, you sure took a ridiculously long time getting your respective acts together,” Cynthia retorts. At this, Iris saunters over to the edge of the bed, sitting next to Barry and leaning her chin on his shoulder, while he takes one of her hands in one of his.

“Maybe. But we’re here now,” Iris replies, as Barry kisses her forehead.

“Y’all are cute, I’ll admit,” Cisco says, and Cynthia smiles at the sight of them together.

“So why are you here?” Barry asks, stroking Iris’s knuckles with his thumb. In response, Cisco grabs a chair near the vanity and sits down, while Cynthia seats herself in a cushioned armchair by a round coffee table.

“So…,” Cisco begins, pausing for dramatic effect, although his anticipation is not reciprocated by either Barry and Iris, who do not prompt him. “Alright, so, guess who showed up just now, roughly halfway through the ball?” Cisco does not wait for an answer, however, the question apparently rhetorical. “That’s right. Eddie Thawne, accompanied by Katie Rogers. Their appearance so late in the game is not even the real crazy thing, because you’ll never guess what happened when they arrived. Okay, so the two of them show up, and they’re dressed for the occasion, and they head over to Cecile and Joe, where Eddie apologizes profusely, naturally, but then seems to reveal something to Cecile which makes her absolutely ecstatic. And she’s crying and hugging Eddie. Needless to say, we were all quite curious as to what could possibly be going on, but Eddie dispels the suspense quite quickly, when he and Katie head over towards the orchestra, and he abruptly stops the musicians and conductor, before taking a mic and claiming he has a big announcement.

He apologizes sincerely for being so late, but explains that he has a reason for being late, and this reason is that he has big news that will bring everyone at this ball great pleasure. And he proceeds to announce that he and Katie just eloped and got married.” At this, Barry and Iris exchange flabbergasted looks, before turning back to Cisco.

“Excuse me?” Iris says, as Barry’s brow furrows contemplatively.

“They got married,” Cisco repeats, shrugging his shoulders. “I know, I know. But that’s where they were today, apparently. Getting married. I’m ninety percent sure, though, that this was a decision made on the fly.”

“But they clearly were having some sort of argument yesterday that we all were not privy to.”

“Yep. I still don’t know what that’s all about, but I have a theory from talking to Katie afterwards. I obviously went up to congratulate them, because what the hell else are we supposed to do, and I was like, ‘Oh this is very nice and all, but this seems sudden.’ She was really cagey, but kind of let it slip that she was pissed that Eddie was keeping their romance a secret from his family, who wouldn’t approve of his involvement with her or some crap, so Katie had given him an ultimatum of her own that if he didn’t get serious with her, she was going to leave him. Guess that kicked his ass into gear.” Iris notices Barry watching Cisco closely, as he takes this in, nodding along. Cisco’s explanation appears to have given him some clarity on the situation.

“That makes sense,” Barry sighs, shaking his head. “I think I may have somehow ended up as the scapegoat, while Katie was trying to make a point to Eddie. But it’s just… god I’m such an idiot, because all the while, Iris was hurt by all this mess, and that is on me… I should have been clear about setting the record straight.”

“Hey, Bear, it’s okay,” Iris soothes. “It really doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Barry exclaims. “It does matter, because all of that hurt you, Iris. And it’s just… god, this is my fault, and…” But Iris has heard enough, and she grasps both his hands in her own.

“Barry,” she says firmly. “We’ve been over this. What happened last night was not your fault. None of this is your fault. You couldn’t possibly have known about Katie and Eddie’s romantic drama. It seems like nobody knew that they were secretly dating.”

“You’re right,” Barry replies. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, but just the mere thought of Katie’s callousness, by trying to insinuate what she did about me and her, all because she was trying to make Eddie jealous, having hurt you is so infuriating.”

“I love you,” Iris whispers, brushing her lips against Barry’s jaw, just as Cisco clears his throat loudly,

“Hey, I know y’all are in that insufferable, just got together officially phase and all, but we’re still here, and I haven’t even gotten to the best part of the story.”

“Yeah,” Cynthia interrupts, clearly fed up with Cisco’s prolonging. “Patty dumped a glass of wine over Eddie’s head.” Barry and Iris turn to each other, sharing a surprised look, as Iris observes,

“And here Barry and I were thinking that we’ve had our fair share of romantic mishaps. Seems as if we don’t really know what actual romantic mishaps encompass, after all.” Cisco, however, is clearly affronted that Cynthia had botched his story-telling,

“That’s not how you tell a story, Cyn. You have to ease into the best part to build up the anticipation.”

“Please, there’s no building up anticipation with Barry and Iris, other than them anticipating our departure.”

“True,” Barry says, chuckling. “And also, I know Eddie definitely didn’t deserve to get wine poured all over him, but that’s undoubtedly a sight that I’d have liked to witness.” Thus, Iris is reminded of one remaining mystery, namely the prickly nature of all of Barry and Eddie’s interactions that she has witnessed, so she inquires accordingly,

“By the way, Bear. Why do you dislike Eddie so much? I don’t recall you two having spent all that much time together to have developed animosity towards each other.” Barry’s eyes widen at that, and he resembles a deer caught in the headlights, which Iris, naturally, finds incredibly endearing.

“Oh my god, you never told her?” Cisco cuts in, looking positively maniacal at this discovery. Barry begins shaking his head frantically at Cisco, but his attempts at preventing his friend from talking are of no avail. “So, the first time Barry and Eddie crossed paths was at some garden party Cecile hosted, and you took Barry as your guest or something. I don’t know the details, because I only have secondhand information from Barry, but basically Eddie tried to insinuate that he might be interested in you to goad Barry, probably, because he, like everyone else except for you two, knew how you both felt about each other. Anyways, Barry had some really harsh words for Eddie, and since then the two of them can’t stand the sight of each other. Talk about the world’s fastest rivalry for no real, concrete reason.”

“I hate you,” Barry groans, burying his face in his hands, but Iris refuses to let Barry wallow in embarrassment, so she nudges him with her shoulder, leaning into him.

“I think you having… how did it Cisco put it?… Harsh words… is hot, Bear,” she says. He turns to her, with a small smile,

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He cups her cheek with one hand, his fingers burying into her hair, and kisses her soundly.

“Ugh, okay, okay,” Cynthia interrupts, getting up. “We’re leaving. Have fun, you two.”

“See ya!” Cisco yells, as Cynthia takes his arm and pulls him to the door. “And remember, this is because of me. I’m the real matchmaker around here.” Once they exit the room, Cisco still chattering away, Barry releases an audible sigh of relief and mumbles,

“Thank god.” Iris laughs, leaning her forehead against his, closing her eyes, before stating,

“You do know that I was never interested in anyone but you, right? I could never really make it work with anyone else, because I was so in love with you. I am so in love with you.”

“I know. And I never could be interested in any other person other than you, not when you have always had my heart,” Barry replies, before continuing, “Also, just to clarify, Eddie and I don’t despise each other or anything; we’re just never going to be friends.”

“Mm, well, I don’t think you two will be seeing each other very often outside of occasional social gatherings.”

“Yeah.” They stay like that, foreheads resting together, taking comfort in each other’s arms, before Iris says,

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am in this moment.” Barry smiles widely at that, adjusting so that he’s holding her face in both of his hands.

“Iris, you have no idea how deeply happy you make me,” he whispers against her lips, his tone reverent as he acknowledges the depth of his love for her. “I love you. I love you so, very much.” A tear escapes him then, which Iris wipes away gently with her thumb, before pressing her lips to his, as she delights in the knowledge that he is hers to love and she is his to love for the rest of their lives.

One and a half years later

Iris sighs contentedly, leaning back against Barry’s chest, his arm wrapped around her waist. She is seated in his lap, like a bride (which, in fact, she is), her white tulle skirt fanning around both of them. All around her there seems to be a flurry of activity, as she assesses the myriad of guests in attendance at her wedding reception.

Wally and Linda are attempting to feed their baby twins, and despite their bemoaning that they cannot quite get this parenting thing down, they seem to be doing a wonderful job at soothing their agitated twins and getting them to eat some mashed foods, which they had brought with them in portable Tupperware. Every time Linda manages to feed a twin, Wally gives her an exaggerated kiss on the cheek, which seems to highly amuse the babies, who giggle uncontrollably at this.

Her father, with whom she had recently danced the father-daughter dance, is regaling some folks with stories about when she was young and how he always knew she was going to grow into an absolute journalistic star. Usually, Iris would be embarrassed by her father’s bragging, but today she lets him sing her praises, for it is her big day after all. Cecile is chatting with friends at a table, and seated near her are Eddie and Katie Thawne, whom Cecile requested be invited, much to Barry’s chagrin, and who are also expecting a baby, as Katie is already sporting a baby bump. Patty is also in attendance, which Iris had initially worried might be awkward, given that there is a good chance that Patty would run into Eddie, but Patty recently reconnected with an old boyfriend, and she brought him as her date. Plus, Patty has managed to completely ignore the Thawnes, at least thus far. Cisco and Cynthia, who have been dating for over a year now, appear to be in their own little world together, heavily flirting with each other at their table. Caitlin and Ronnie are sitting next to Cisco and Cynthia, but they don’t seem particularly concerned with the other couple’s flirting, for they are preoccupied with entertaining their two-year-old daughter.

Allegra, Kamilla, and James are all laughing about something, and Iris is glad that they are enjoying themselves, for she knows that last week was a highly stressful time at the Citizen, because they had finally published a piece, on which all the Citizen’s reporters worked for weeks on end (now a team of nearly fifty reporters, for the amount of positive publicity that had resulted from the McCulloch Tech exposé had catapulted the Citizen into journalistic stardom, particularly after Iris had been awarded a Peabody Award and Kamilla a World Press Photo Award for their work on the article), exposing a massive eviction scam, which implicated three local politicians. So, Iris is grateful that the three reporters seem to be relaxed and happy, the stresses of last week hopefully dissipating. As for Kara, she appears to have discovered the scrumptious doughnut display near the dessert buffet and is evidently in heaven.

Iris’s Great-Aunt Esther sits at the head of the West family table, friendly, but reserved and still ever so beautiful. Barry and Iris are seated one table down from her, and when Great-Aunt Esther catches Iris’s eye, she winks at her favorite grand-niece, perhaps reinforcing the sentiment that she had voiced to Iris earlier that day that she is the happiest she could ever be to see her dearest grand-niece marry the love of her life.

“Your Mama, My Francine… she would be so proud of the woman you have become,” Great-Aunt Esther tells Iris right before Joe arrives to walk her down the aisle. Tears roll down Iris’s cheeks, as her Great-Aunt gathers her into her arms. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“I miss her so, so much. Every single day,” Iris whispers.

“She is always, always with you.”

The memory from this morning is one Iris knows she will cherish deeply, but while she relives that moment, she notices that there now appears to be trouble, for Barry’s mother, Nora, joins Joe, and they both start telling the tale of how they knew Barry and Iris were always going to get married from the moment they witnessed the two interact as young children. Surely, the two of them would somehow manage to recount the numerous occasions on which Barry and Iris play-acted getting married as children, usually with a stuffed dinosaur presiding.

“When Barry came home from the playground that day after meeting Iris,” Nora says loudly, “He went running up to his dad and said, ‘Dad! I met the most beautiful girl in the world today. I think I want to marry her.’ And my late husband said, ‘Well, slugger, love is about reciprocity. Focus on getting to know her. And who knows, maybe one day, we’ll be attending yours and Iris’s wedding.’ And here we are.” Upon hearing his mother retell this particular story, Barry drops his forehead to Iris’s shoulder, groaning quietly, so that only she can here.

“It’s bad already, and they’re just getting started,” Barry mutters, kissing his wife’s shoulder. “I think we should make our great escape right about now.” Iris smiles, running a hand through Barry’s hair, as she feels Barry’s lips move upward, slowly beginning to trail kisses from her shoulder to her neck.

“Bear, if you’re trying to get me to agree to leave with you right now…” Iris whispers, attempting to maneuver herself discreetly so that the guests cannot see her husband kissing her neck.

“Is it working?” Barry asks, looking up at her and smiling.

“You know it is,” she sighs, and he appears supremely smug at that. “But we do have to stick around for a while longer, after all this is our wedding reception. We can’t just cut out early.” Barry mumbles his half-hearted assent, although he seems unconvinced, before caressing his fingers against Iris’s arm, gazing at her, suddenly contemplative. “What is it?” she queries, softly.

“I just can’t believe it. I can’t believe we’re here, finally, at our wedding reception. I think it really only hit me that I’m marrying you when I saw you walk down the aisle, and you are so, so beautiful and amazing and wonderful, and I realized that I’m truly lucky enough to marry the girl of my dreams,” Barry replies, and Iris frames his face with her hands, leaning forward gently, so her forehead rests against his.

“Those tears were real huh?” she teases, gently. Barry chuckles, and because they are so closely pressed together, she feels the reverberations of his laugh against her own chest.

“Completely real.”

“So were mine,” Iris says, her lips just a hair’s length away from his. “Because just as it was overwhelming for you to watch me walking down the aisle, I was incredibly overwhelmed with happiness and love seeing you standing at the end of the aisle, looking so dapper, and knowing that I finally get to marry the love of my life, who is the most amazing man that I know.” Barry’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, touched by her words, and he brushes his nose against Iris’s, murmuring against her lips,

“I love you, Mrs. West-Allen.” Iris responds by kissing him once gently, and they are silent for a few moments, foreheads still touching, and contemplating the depth of their love for one another. Then, Barry shakes his head fondly and remarks, jokingly,

“You and I are complete saps.”

“Eloquent saps,” Iris corrects, laughing. “But that’s why we’re perfect for each other.”

“Mm, true,” Barry says, taking her hand in his own and bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing her fingers one by one. “I love you so much, Iris.”

“I love you,” Iris replies, before her expression becomes more mischievous. “It’s a shame we don’t have balloons at our reception.”

“Why? Were you planning on wrangling some into our car? Personally, I’d be game. I only got to witness you successfully fit those balloons into your car last time, an admirable feat, I might add.” Iris shakes her head fondly, feigning mild exasperation, while Barry laughs.

“Spoken like someone who has never had the view from his rear mirror constantly marred by inflated balloons,” Iris sighs. “And so no, I do not want to attempt to take any inflated balloons with us in a car, but I guess I was just feeling slightly nostalgic, because it was at my dad and Cecile’s wedding reception that I think I realized that I’ve always been in love with you.” Iris looks down at their intertwined hands, while Barry’s gaze becomes solemn, then, as he tucks an errant strand of hair that had come undone from her elaborate bun behind her ear.

“Well, that was also the night I first really told you how I felt,” Barry replies, and Iris glances up at him, surprised. “Yeah. Do you remember when I said that something incredible has always been in front of me, and I just really should throw caution to the wind?”

“I remember. You were talking about me. About us,” Iris whispers, and Barry nods, caressing her cheek gently, his touch warm and comforting against her skin.

“Yeah. I guess that was one of the many times I really came close to spilling my heart out to you, but Linda was also there, and I figured your dad’s wedding reception probably wasn’t a good place to tell you how I feel. Although I do think the spirit of weddings prompted that particular confession that night.”

“It’s silly now, looking back, but I remember thinking that you were talking about someone else at the time, and that’s when I truly realized that I am absolutely in love with you and have been for years.”

“I know that was all cleared up quite quickly, but I could never have been ever talking about anyone else,” Barry says, and Iris smiles, turning her face into his hand and placing a soft kiss on his palm.

“I know, Bear,” she replies, but from his expression, she can sense his adamancy about providing abundant clarity.

“It only has ever been you, Iris. It only has ever been you,” he whispers, and she lays her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat underneath her palm, before murmuring,

“And you’re the only one. You’ve always been the only one. And you and I have the rest of our lives to tell each other every day.” Barry adjusts, so that she is completely encircled by his arms, while he presses his lips to the crown of her head, as she, in turn, wraps her arm snugly around his waist.

“The rest of our lives,” he echoes, as his arms tighten around her. Iris smiles, glancing up at Barry, and remarks,

“Sounds pretty amazing, doesn’t it?” And he grins widely, bending his head towards hers and whispering,

“Absolutely incredible,” against her lips, before kissing her soundly.

#westallen #westallen secret santa #submission

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

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Hogmanay Hauntings Chapter 3 -- Future: M'annsachd

Chapter 2

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The longer Jamie sat in the darkness, drowning in his own sorrow, the more he was convinced that perhaps a third spirit was not coming. Both Claire and Faith had said it would, but it seemed to be taking longer than the time between Faith’s disappearance and Claire’s appearance. He began feeling around blindly to light his candle and drag himself back to bed, but then he froze.

Something was glowing behind him.

For a moment, he was afraid to look. His child, born and gone years ago, had been the one to show him his past. His wife, she who still carried his heart showed him their present. So who was there, waiting for him now…?

He slowly turned around, trembling only slightly.

A child stood there, fiery hair tied back and yet uncontainable, donning strange looking, stiff blue trousers and a buttoned wool shirt that resembled a tartan pattern. He recognized the child immediately, older than Jamie had just seen, but the same bairn nonetheless.

“Hi, Da.”

For the third time that night, Jamie had the wind knocked out of him.

“It...is you then?” he said softly. “My...my child?”

“Yup.” The child gave a curt nod. “My sister is of the past, Mama is still your present, but me, I’m your future. So here I am.”

Jamie swallowed thickly, chuckling through his blur of tears. What a confident, bold wee thing. Not at all like the timid sweetness of Faith, but there was a graceful gentleness beneath the surface.

“I...dinna suppose ye could tell me if ye’re a lass or a lad?”

“Nope.”

Jamie sighed sadly.

“Sorry, Da. Couldn’t if I tried. The Spirits took the choice away from me. I can’t even say the words.”

A chill ran down Jamie’s spine.

“The Ghost of Christmas, er, Hogmanay Future is creepy,” the child said with a shudder. “I hope you get something out of this, because I don’t wanna talk to him again.”

Despite the eeriness of the child’s words, Jamie laughed again. “Ye’ve got yer mother’s tongue, d’ye ken that?”

The child beamed. “Yeah, I know.”

Jamie realized he was still on his knees, but he thought perhaps to stay there, to remain at eye level with his child. His child. Not the child that had entered the world and left it without drawing breath, not the child that Claire had wept over, alone and broken. The child he had seen Claire holding, alive and smiling, the child that lived in his present.

And yet he or she was his future.

“Ready?”

“What’ll ye show me, then?” Jamie asked. “Yer sister showed me the family I lost, yer mother showed me what I could lose if I dinna change...what must I see in the future…?”

“Well I can’t explain it,” the child said with exasperation. “Let’s just go.”

He chuckled again, despite his fear and trepidation.

So bloody fiery.

“Will ye dangle something before my eyes like yer mam?”

“Nah. The spirits said I could hold your hand like Faith did.”

Jamie’s heart soared, and the child reached out a small, delicate hand. “Come on, Da.”

He eagerly took the hand out of sheer joy of touching his child, phantom touch or no, but not necessarily out of excitement to see what it was he had to be shown. The familiar fading away and roiling gut began, finished off by the world reforming around them once more. Their surroundings looked familiar, nearly identical to that Christmas morning that Claire had shown him just before. There were only slight differences in the parlor, and in the woman sitting on the sofa.

Claire’s hair was entirely different, even shorter, and the curls were gone. It was streaked with grey as well.

And she was still so sad.

The air itself seemed different this time, more stifling.

“This is our first Christmas without Daddy,” the child beside Jamie said softly, the softest his or her voice had been yet.

“Wi’out…?” Jamie looked down at the child, then back up at Claire. “He’s to die, then…?”

“Yeah.”

“I…” Jamie stammered, looking down at his bairn again. “I’m sorry, a chuisle…”

The child said nothing, just kept staring at Claire. Jamie noticed immediately that Claire’s sadness was not more magnified than it had been for the last Christmas he’d seen; she was exactly the same. Frank’s passing did not cause her grief, not the way one would think, anyway. It seemed to be just one more thing to add to the list of things weighing her down.

Clomping footsteps on a staircase jolted Jamie from his thoughts. It seemed to jolt Claire as well; she looked up from the mug she’d been staring at and straightened up. When the footsteps did not continue into the parlor, her brow furrowed. She set her mug on a small stable and stood up, leading the spirits that followed her without her knowledge into a hallway that led to the front door. Claire paused, her eyes widening.

There was a tall, lanky young person pulling boots over thick socks and under loose trousers, bundled in a mustard yellow coat, green scarf, and a hat, all layers hiding the length of hair that Jamie knew to be fiery red. Jamie almost sighed with relief; if his child had to lose the only father he or she had ever known, at least it hadn’t been until he or she was nearly grown.

“Where are you going…?”

Jamie almost wept at the sound of Claire’s voice. It was so small and timid. He’d never, never heard any such sound come from her mouth.

“Lenny’s.”

Jamie tried to decide based on pitch and timbre if his child was more male or female, but came up empty again. She could have been a fully grown young woman with a strong, husky voice, or he could have been a newly adolescent lad. It was impossible to tell.

“It’s...still morning. Joe and Gail told me two o’clock.” Claire crossed her arms over her stomach, hugging herself tightly.

“They told you two o’clock,” returned a biting voice, lacing up the boots. “Lenny told me I could come over whenever I wanted.”

“But it’s...Christmas morning,” Claire’s voice was losing strength with every sentence she uttered. “The...presents…”

“I haven’t believed in Santa in nine years, and I can open what you gave me whenever. They’ll still be there tonight.”

Claire swallowed thickly, her eyes glistening. “Ehm...okay…”

“I’ll see you later. Okay?” The young adult straightened, and Jamie finally took in how bloody tall he or she was, towering over Claire nearly as much as he himself did. “I’ll give you your gift when we do the exchange over there. I’ve got it.” He or she patted a coat pocket.

Claire nodded dumbly, lips flapping uselessly for a moment. “Are you...hungry…?”

A shrug. “I’ll grab something when I get there.”

“You don’t want...any of the cookies? Christmas cookies for breakfast, remember? And...hot chocolate…?”

The grown child looked like he or she felt a small, brief flash of guilt. “I’m sorry, Mama...I just...I don’t wanna be here right now. It’s…” Trembling hands stuffed into coat pockets. “It’s too sad.”

“Oh.” Claire’s throat bobbed, and she tightened her grip on her opposite elbows. “Ehm...okay. I...understand.”

“Do you?”

Claire blinked. “What…?” “Do you really understand?” It was a challenge; blue, cat-like eyes narrowed, chin jutted.

“What on Earth are you implying?”

“It kinda seems like this is just another holiday to you. You know full well it’s not. You remembered all the stuff you and I did, but none of the stuff Daddy used to do. Do you even know what that stuff is?”

“I…”

“You’re acting like you don’t even notice he’s gone!” The pale, freckled face turned red, voice raising. “And I’m trying to get out of this damn house because I’m choking on every single reminder, and I’m choking on you not even caring!”

“I care! Of course I care!” Claire’s voice broke, tears finally spilling over.

“Whatever.” The front door was heaved open. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” There was still heat and disdain in that voice, desperately trying to be dampened. “I’ll see you later. Okay?”

Claire opened her mouth, but she seemed to choke on the words, so she closed it again, nodding. “Okay.”

The front door shut, a bit too roughly, and Claire remained frozen in place, seemingly unable to move. She stared at the door for a long while after her child was gone, silent tears dripping down her cheeks.

And then she just turned, slowly making her way back to the couch she’d abandoned, sinking back into it with a sense of finality.

She did not weep, did not sob. Just picked her mug back up, even as silent tears continued to fall, picked up a small, odd looking box and pointed it at a larger, equally as odd looking box, bringing images and sounds to life. Jamie jumped at the sudden light and noise at first, then remembered what Claire had once said about motion pictures, deducing that perhaps they were now things that belonged in households as well.

“I know she loved Daddy,” Jamie’s spirit-child spoke for the first time in a long while, looking sadly at her mother staring blankly at the flashing images of light. “Even on this day, I knew. But I didn’t understand her behavior, and I wanted to hurt her.” The child sounded older, more mature than he or she had been in the cave. “Because she was hurting me. But I know she loved him.”

Claire roughly wiped her eyes and sniffled.

“But I also know she’ll always love you more.” Jamie’s heart twisted. “Even after all those years, she was still more devastated about losing you than she ever was about Daddy.”

Jamie could not stop himself; he walked over to the sofa and sat down beside her, painfully aware of how he was not really sitting beside her at all. He did not even see the strange contraption emitting light and noise; all he could see was light dancing on her too-pale skin and in her glittering, tearful eyes.

“Your puir heart never healed,” Jamie whispered, nearly inaudible, ghosting his hand over the strange shape of her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, feeling nothing beneath his touch.

“Neither did yours,” their child said, her voice feeling like a summer breeze on the back of his neck.

Jamie swallowed thickly, his entire body literally aching with the impossible-to-fulfill need to hold his wife.

“I thought...I thought she’d be happy…” His voice was hoarse. “I ken she grieved, aye, but she...so much time, now...and she never…”

“I certainly didn’t make it any easier,” the child said, slightly guilty, and yet laced with humor. “You really can’t blame me, though. I had no idea what I was talking about.”

Jamie’s lips quirked into a smile despite himself, despite the very image of pain right before him in his love.

“But,” the child went on, plopping down beside Jamie. “You were the love of her life, Da. It got harder and harder to pretend the more time went by. She never got over it. Not here, at least.”

Jamie’s brow furrowed, but he would not tear his eyes off of Claire. “What d’ye mean?”

“Come on.”

Jamie turned to see that his child was reaching for his hand. Jamie looked over his shoulder at Claire, unspoken protest on his lips.

“She’ll be okay, Da.” The child smiled, touching his hand. “You’ll see.”

Jamie whipped his head around to catch one final glimpse of the poor, broken woman his wife had become, his heart lurching as she melted away into nothingness. When the world reformed around them, they were not sitting on a sofa, but they were standing again in a glowing room. There was nothing familiar about this room; Jamie had certainly never been here before. Was this more of Claire’s future, or the child’s…? No, there was something familiar here; there was no electricity, no trace of any of those contraptions littering Claire’s twentieth century home.

The abrupt, loud sound of whooping cheers filled his ears, followed swiftly by a fiddle. That, too, was familiar; midnight had just stricken at a Hogmanay celebration. The room they stood in was empty; the celebrating occurring on the other side of a door. And then that door burst open, an entire gaggle of children pouring in.

“Me first! Me first!”

“Haud yer wheesht, Mandy! I’m older!”

“Well I’m older than you, Jem!”

“Doesna matter, Germain! Ladies first!”

“Grandda! Tell them! Tell them I go first!”

“Christ’s Cross!”

Jamie’s stomach flipped. That voice was quite familiar.

“Ye’re louder than the entire rest of the guests, ye wee heathens!”

Then there he was, himself. Jamie’s jaw fell slack; he was wearing a bloody kilt.

“This canna be real!” Jamie turned to his spirit-child. “Tartan is outlawed! Ye mean to tell me the bloody king will lift those restrictions?”

“No...he won’t,” the child said sneakily, smiling.

Before Jamie could demand more answers, the sound of French filled his ears, both from several of the children and one of the adults. Jamie whipped his head around to see a grown man and a small blonde hanging on one another, a gaggle of three children swarming their legs.

“Fergus…?” Jamie stepped closer. “And those are all his bairns…? Then whose are…?”

Before his thought could finish, another young man stumbled through the doorway, and Jamie’s heart stopped. There was simply no way that boy was not his son.

Jamie’s lips flapped uselessly for a moment as the young man joined the throng, the red headed little boy called Jem and the lass called Mandy flocking to him.

“That...that’s you, then…?” Jamie said, his head spinning. “Ye’re a lad…? And ye’ll...here…? Wi’ me?”

“Keep watching,” was all the spirit-child said.

More footsteps sounded from the doorway, and a young woman entered on the arm of a dark haired, green eyed man, sending Jamie spiraling again. There was no way she was not his daughter.

“Christ! Did yer mam carry twins?”

The spirit-child barked with laughter. “We’re not twins! But I’m not allowed to spoil anything, remember? So I can’t tell you.”

“Then what the devil…?”

Then all other thought ceased as she entered the room.

Yes, this was his time. She was dressed like the blonde woman, Fergus’s wife, he presumed, and like his daughter, no trace of her own time’s fashion. Her hair was loose again, long, curly, and free. She was smiling again, with no trace of that perpetual misery he’d seen only seconds ago. She was on the arm of a handsome man, who, upon hearing him speak, made Jamie’s nose wrinkle.

“Another bloody sassenach?”

The spirit-child laughed again.

Mandy and Jem began calling the young woman Mama, and Jamie’s heart soared to think those were his grandchildren, his blood. But could it even be possible? He’d sent Claire back with child, and his spirit-child had confirmed she’d only been carrying one. Could the spirits be showing him different possible outcomes? Perhaps the lass was Faith, and the lad was the one he’d sent away with Claire, and the spirits truly wanted Jamie to lose himself in a fantasy of perfect loveliness.

No...of course it couldn’t be possible. Claire thought he was dead. There was no way to tell her otherwise, despite all he’d seen tonight. This vision had to be fantasy and nothing more.

And yet as Jamie watched himself, his older self, come alive with light and open his arms to receive Claire...he didn’t give a damn.

She was lovely, radiant. She laughed into a kiss, and Jamie’s head felt lighter, like he was floating. They were both streaked with grey now, as was the man whose arm Claire had walked in on, and even Fergus was greying at the temples.

“Stop kissin’ Grannie!” one of the bairns blurted. “Ye promised presents at midnight, Grandda! It’s been at least two minutes!”

All of the adults burst into laughter, including Jamie and Claire as they broke apart of their public display of affection.

“Aye, alright, alright,” Grandda-Jamie placated, tucking Claire into his side. “Line up, weans, youngest to oldest.”

“What?!?”

The older ones all groaned, and the tiny ones clapped with glee. Jamie and Claire laughed again, their heads bowing into one another as they did. One by one, the grandparents handed each of the children boxes, and as they dispersed to tear them open, Jamie sat in a chair by the hearth, pulling Claire into his lap. The children squealed with glee and whooped with delight, waving about wooden swords or toy horses or wee dollies.

Jamie wanted to fall to his knees and weep. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. This entire brood of children had come from his and Claire’s bloodline, adopted or no. This was his family.

He did fall to his knees then.

“Tell me...tell me, a chuisle...is this true…? Will this truly be in my future…? My wife at my side again...my child…children...?”

“These are the shadows of things that may be,” the child said simply. “So...I couldn’t show you something impossible.”

Jamie’s stomach flipped, his heart lurching into his throat. “It’s possible then…? All of...this...?”

“Of course.”

He laughed, truly laughed, a full belly laugh. “Oh, Christ!”

He looked up again to see that three of the children were literally hanging on their grandfather, on himself, and fresh tears poured from his eyes. So much love in this room.

“But,” the spirit-child interrupted. “It all depends on you, Da.”

“On...on me…?” He turned his head to look at the spirit.

“Mhmm. Do you think Fergus will want to be here with all his kids if you don’t start treating him like a son?”

Jamie deflated slightly, shame burning him again.

“And do you think you’ll be sitting there with Mama if you let yourself waste away?”

He blinked, tears of a different kind stinging his eyes.

“This...isna certain.”

“It’s the future. Nothing is certain.”

Jamie exhaled with a shudder. “You...how are ye so articulate? Yer sister sounded nothing like that.”

His child giggled. “Faith will always be a baby.”

That shattered his heart in a way he didn’t think possible.

“I’m much older than I look, really. You can see me grown, right now, whichever one I am.” The child winked. “The spirits thought you’d rather talk to me like this. And I like it, too. I liked being this age. And I...I kinda like having to look up at you from down here. I can pretend I didn’t miss an entire life with you.”

His heart went out to his child, longing to press the little body to his chest just as desperately as he’d wished to with Faith. Then he surveyed the scene before him, shrieking children, laughing adults, drinking and clinging to one another, dancing. Christ, he hadn’t danced like that in years, laughed like that. To be that happy again...

“It...it canna be true,” Jamie said finally. “How...how could she come back to me…?”

His child said nothing.

“And...the kilt. It isna possible. I’m...I’m grateful to ye, to the spirits, fer allowing me to see such beauty. But I canna...I canna live thinking that I’ll have...this someday, only to no’ ever have it.” He gestured helplessly before him. “I’m content to believe that this is what Heaven will look like. Wi’ you,” he gestured to the young man, “and yer sister,” he gestured to the young woman, convinced she was Faith, “Yer brother, yer ma, and all yer children. This...this is what awaits me in the Eternal Kingdom. I understand now.”

He looked to his child for confirmation, but he or she merely shrugged, reaching for Jamie’s hand. “Whatever you say, Da.”

And then it was all gone.

When next Jamie opened his eyes, he was in the cave, illuminated by his child’s glowing presence. He was greeted with a sweet smile and a glint in those blue eyes that seemed beyond their years.

“Ye’ll...ye’ll leave me now?”

“Yeah, I have to.”

Jamie sighed shakily, taking a knee before his child. “It has been...an honor to meet ye, a chuisle.”

“Same to you.”

Jamie chuckled sadly. “Take care of yer mother.”

“I try.”

“And...dinna forget me. If it’s possible.” His voice broke.

“Don’t worry about that, Da.”

He waited for the child to elaborate, but an explanation did not come.

“I...I ken I’ve known ye such a short time...but I love ye wi’ all my heart. I have since the verra moment I knew yer mother was carrying ye.”

“I know, Da. I love you too, a lot.”

He breathed a teary laugh, his vision blurring. The child’s light began fading.

“You made my sister a promise, and you made Mama a promise. Do I get one?”

“Aye, mo chridhe, of course.”

“Promise me you won’t give up.”

Jamie swallowed thickly, tears spilling over. “Aye...I won’t. I promise...for you, for your ma...I won’t.”

“And for Fergus?”

Jamie bit back a sob. “Aye. For Fergus...for my son.”

A radiant smile, even as the light dimmed lower and lower. “Thanks, Da.”

“I love you.”

“G’bye, sweet wee lad.”

And there it was; without even thinking, he’d let it slip that he suspected this child was a boy.

His answer was a loud guffaw, followed by an undignified snort. “Goodbye, Da.”

And then he was gone.

I will name him Brian. After your father.

Jamie closed his eyes and breathed deeply, his mouth taut with pain.

My sweet wee laddie. My Brian.

All of a sudden, light flickered behind him, and his heart soared, thinking perhaps that one of his loves had returned to him. But it was only his candle. Something, or someone had lit it again.

He relaxed onto his haunches, thinking.

Christ, how long had it been? Was there still time?

Perhaps he could still make it, could find Fergus and lift the lad’s spirits, could find wee Maggie and tell her that he would be honored to accept her Hogmanay gift.

Now, man. Go now.

He leapt to his feet and yanked on his boots with a clumsiness he did not think himself capable of, then yanked his cloak over his head, concealing himself, just in case. He trekked through the woods, guided by moonlight, and when the sight of the house greeted him, his heart soared. There were swaths of people pouring out of the front door; the first footing was beginning, midnight had only just struck.

He quickened his pace, making for the back door so as to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He looked around aimlessly for a moment, and then made his way to the back stairs.

He needed to make things right with his son first.

He wound up the smaller staircase to the third floor, having seen the lad storm up there when Claire had shown him Hogmanay Present. He reached the shut door, and took a calming breath. He knocked.

“Come in.”

Jamie’s stomach flipped as he pushed the door open. Fergus was looking down, as if expecting one of the weans to enter with gifts, but his eyes raked up to Jamie’s face and lit up.

“Milord,” he said with surprise. “I thought you were not coming?”

“I...I wasna.” Jamie took a few hesitant steps into the room. “But I, uh...I’ve got some things to apologize for, laddie. Some things to make right.”

“Like what?”

Jamie cleared his throat, dropping his cloak and kneeling in front of Fergus where he sat on the bed. His beautiful blue eyes were wider than usual, firelight dancing in them.

If Claire can push through her grief and be strong for our child, I can do the same for our son.

“I’ve...I’ve no’ been good to ye, lad,” Jamie began, his voice already wavering. “I’ve been wretched, in fact. Ye...ye dinna deserve the...the husk of a man I’ve become.”

Fergus said nothing, just blinked at him.

“When I...When I said I loved ye like a son...I meant it, lad. And I’m sorry I’ve no’ been too great at showing ye.” He brought a trembling hand to cup a cheek that was no longer so little. “Christ...I’m so sorry. I...I ken ye miss her. I’ve been too busy drowning in my own pain and guilt that I havena cared to notice yours. And I’m sorry.”

Fergus’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he unconsciously leaned into Jamie’s touch. “You never speak of her,” he said softly.

“Aye, I ken,” Jamie rasped, a tear rolling down his cheek. “And that isna fair to ye. She was...she is yer mam. Ye deserve to speak of her freely, to feel like she’s still here wi’ ye. I’ve robbed ye of that, and I’m sorry.”

Fergus nodded.

“D’ye...d’ye wish to speak of her now, laddie?”

A tear finally slipped out of Fergus’s eye, and he nodded.

“What…what d’ye miss most about her?”

Fergus sniffled again. “I miss her smile.”

“Aye, she was beautiful.”

“Aye.” Fergus nodded in agreement. “And I...I miss how she held me, at night. It is silly and childish — ”

“No, lad. It isna. No’ at all.” Jamie cupped his other cheek. “She was so tender, so full of love. She loved ye.”

“I know.” Another sniffle.

“And I...I love ye too. I never stopped, even if it felt like I did.” He tenderly brushed Fergus’ tears away with his thumbs, and Fergus abruptly threw his arms around Jamie’s neck.

“I love you too, Milord.”

Jamie wrapped his arms around the lad’s scrawny frame, cherishing every moment. How had he deprived the lad of this comfort? How had he deprived himself? He was so raw and bare that one ounce of affection could have broken him.

And, God, it did.

He fell apart so thoroughly and completely that the lad clung to him tighter, and then they were both crying.

My son. Our son.

After several minutes, there was a knock at the door, even though Jamie had left it ajar.

“Brother…?”

Jamie gave Fergus one final squeeze before releasing him and turning to see his sister, flanked by Maggie and Kitty.

“Happy Hogmanay, Janet.”

Jenny broke into a wide grin.

“Yer gift, Uncle Jamie!” Maggie squeaked.

“Aye, mo chridhe, why dinna ye fetch it?” Jamie said.

“And yer Da, and yer brothers and sister,” Jenny added as the lassies ran off, squealing.

Jenny shook her head and crossed the room, and Jamie stood up, fiercely folding his sister into him. Jenny let out an undignified yelp of surprise before giving in, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“Ye’re a wee bit late, brother.”

“Aye,” Jamie said hoarsely, kissing the crown of her head. “I am. And I am heart sorry.”

Jenny tensed a bit, perhaps sensing that Jamie was apologizing for more than just missing most of the party.

“I love ye, sister. Fiercely.”

He felt Jenny swallow. “I love you too, brother. Even though ye’re a great fool.”

Jamie chuckled wetly, pulling back to look her in the eye.

“What’s brought all this on…?” Jenny asked, her voice tinged with sympathy as she reached up to brush away the tears on her brother’s face.

“I was…reminded,” Jamie looked behind him at Fergus, then at Jenny, and then at the bairns that toppled back into the room, “how fleeting life is, how I havenae been cherishing it properly.”

“Nunkie! Nunkie!” Maggie squealed, tugging on his trousers. “Here!”

“I made one, and Maggie made the other,” Kitty added, twisting her skirt in her hands.

Jamie took two uneven, sloppily knitted stockings into his hands and pressed them to his heart. “They’re bonny, lassies. Just like you both.” He pressed a fervent kiss to both of their foreheads, and they clung to each other with joy.

“Here, Uncle!” Wee Jamie chimed in, holding up a chunk of wood. “I carved this for ye. Da helped.”

As if on cue, Ian appeared in the doorway, likely struggling to keep up with his wee heathens.

“It’s a horse,” Wee Jamie went on.

“Aye, that it is,” Jamie said, examining it on all sides. “It’s braw, laddie. Thank ye.”

He kissed the lad’s head. Michael and Janet were too wee to make any such thing, so he just gathered them both, each in one arm, and kissed each of their wee cheeks.

“Happy New Year, Jamie,” Ian said.

“Happy New Year, a bhalaich.” Jamie stood and shook his hand, pulling him in for a tight embrace. Ian produced whisky and offered the bottle to Jamie, he took a healthy swig.

“To family,” Jamie called, looking around at the small brood. “To love.” Fergus got up off the bed and stood at his side. “And to life.”

Jamie was reminded of the brood he’d seen of the future, the brood that would never be, and his heart pained him. He did not know how real it was, any of it. He did not know if he’d truly been visited by his dead daughter, his wife and child that he’d sent away. He did not know the truth of any of the visions he’d seen.

But what was real, and true, was the son that he put an arm around, already far too tall for Jamie’s liking, and the tiny wee nieces that wrapped themselves around each of his legs, and the sister that reached down for one of her sweet toddlers.

True or no, those visions had given him something to hold onto, something almost resembling hope.

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Amphibia: Ivy on The Run and After the Rain Reviews

Hello all you happy people! We’re into week two and after far too long we finally get some answers.. well okay not the ones we thought we were getting but hey you take what you get sometimes. Point is it’s a big week, with a fun ivycentric episode that fleshes her and Felcia out and a far more serious episode that finally explains a few things, not saying what things because spoilers. So join me under the cut for some smiles, some tears, and a bit of Muay Thai and Myagi-Do as I break things down.

Ivy on the Run:

I was pleased as punch to find out Ivy was getting an episode. While I couldn’t say she was a faviorite of mine, I always found Katie Crowns performance exceptional, and her a delight to watch. The character wasn’t bad.. but EVERY episode up to this one involving her was about her and Sprig’s relationship which while really fucking precious left little room to flesh her out beyond a love of ambushes and being into the same kid stuff Sprig was into.

This episode not only corrects that but also takes another suprising leap for the series in having Ivy clearly be the main character of the episode. While this isn’t the first episode to spotlight a citzen of wartwood.. it’s the first where the Plantars are side characters in the plot instead of just as important as whoever got focus or usually more important. Here Ivy is the lead of the episode: We open on her waking up for the day (Or rather having been awake for hours to trick her alarm clock), get a sense of her personality.. and of the episodes conflict: Ivy’s desire to be free and explore versus her mothe’rs constnat anal renttientve insistence she do tea related stuff like fold swans properly. IT’s a decent enough conflict that gets elevated by hte twist at the end.

So she runs out after that to meet up with Sprig, and ambush him because that’s how thier relationship works. And what I really like here is while their relationships still present in the episode it’s thankfully not the focus or even realy lreated. Their clearly together, it’s just not the focus of the episode> Just some nice ranch dressing atop this salad. While they go to hunt for glitter beetles, Anne is teaching Polly, Muay Thai. The martial art of champions.. specifically one eyed ones who like to put tiger in front of their moves. As for why she took it up her mom wanted somewhere to put her energy, as seen in a flashback with a young Anne adorably banging on pans while singing her own version of Wannabe by the Spice Girls. It’s fucking precious.

So the couple happily go beetle hunting i’ts precious.. but Ivy’s patience with her mother starts to run out as her mother loudly interupts her hunt to return her for tea practice: stirring it, setting tables, folding swans that sorta thing. All things she clearly dosen’t WANT to do or like and gives the impression Felcia is trying to force her daughter to become more like her and less like herself which... no. Just no.

Ivy eventually hits her limit with this bullshit, tells her mother off and then stomps off to her room whiel her Mom fails ot understand that MAYBE being hypercirtical of your daughter, even if it turns out you have a good reason, might backfire. Ivy is encouraged by her posters, great scene by the way, to run away and leave town, and take Sprig with her.. whose relcutant as he talked himself up as being really well liked and savy out there but was just okay in practice.

Meanwhile Polly and Anne continue training but Polly can’t get it as she just can’t calm down and focus, and Anne easily blocks her. In constrast Wally shows up, having apparently been watching them.

And picks it up instantly. I can see why; Wally seems a bit scatterbrained due to his weird and wonderful nature.. but we’ve seen him be entirely capable when the chips are down, and to be a talented musician. So while he’d SEEM like he’d lack focus, it’s probably way easier to him than the impatient tadpole who just wants to kick ass without getting it takes a few steps.

Meanwhile Sprig tries to talk his girlfriend out of running away together at 10 only for Sylvia to tail them with those bee phone things she used earlier.. and also be there, as once they clear those out she’s waiting and both end up at the Muay Thai class. Things finally hit their breaking point and Ivy wishes she never had family... and I think this is what finally gets it in Felicia’s head she messed up. She meant well.. but sh’es clearly been so hard on her child that, even if she instnatnly regrets it, she’s willing to disown her own mother if it means getting away from her.

So Felica gives her a way out: Martial Arts Match. Because nothing says parental love like fighting your daughter for her freedom. Though in her defense things are pretty fair: three matches, and Ivy just needs to win ONE by getting a point on her, like in a martial arts competition. I only know that’s what they were going for because I binged Cobra Kai last month along with the first two Karate Kids.

And that refrence isn’t for nothing as Felcia easily dominates the first two matches using Miyagi-Do esque moves i.e. pure defense, and with a Miyagi style lesson inside as for the final one.. she has Ivy repeat the various tea things she’d had her do, and just like that amazing fucking scene from Karate Kid, Ivy can now fight and realizes her mother was training her the whole time, as her mom simply wanted her to be readly and as for why Felcia herself is a karate master, she picked it up while gathering tea as naturally it’s incredibly dangerous in amphibia.

So Felcia let’s her daughte win and expalins she just wanted her to be safe.. which is nice but while her devistaiton earlier clearly shows it, it still dosen’t QUITE justify how hard she was or not telling her why when her daughter is a clear tomboy. I do get the Miyagi-Do training style: it builds muscle memory and means you can defend without thinking, fight without having to plan every punch and kick. It’s brilliant.. but you have to match the training to the student. Daniel hated his traning too.. but Miyagi clearly KNEW he would, knew he’d give out and set it all up that way. Felcia.. nearly pushed her daughter into running away and never apologized. It’s not all terrible as there is the implciation this whole match was Felcia realizing she had to make it clera what she was doing, but it’s still fairly torubling the episode never adresses her behavior outright., even if they make up and Felciia plans to take her along next time. Also Polly punches wally in the face... eh he’l lbe fine.

Final Thoughts on Ivy on the Run: This one was decent. As said the final part feels a bit... ehhh..as it feels they don’t adress Felicia’s controlling attitude enough.. but it dosen’t detract from a pretty fun episode, especially the Muay Thai stuff. That was an unexpected treat. And let’s face it after recently getting in deep with the franchise thanks to cobra kai, I can’t hate anything that reminds me of the Karate Kid. In a good way at least.

After The Rain:

Well this was both a long time coming and as painful as I expected. And after over a year and a half, we FINALLY get some answers.. not ALL the answers but some. Look you know what this episode is about, I know what this episode is about, let’s get cracking in round 2.

So Anne’s got a letter, anne’s got a letter I wonder who it’s from. Marcy.. it’s from Marcy. Turns out she’s ready to go to the first temple, and even sent them a check list: weapons, food (check and check) and armor. Hop Pop already thought of that.. but instead of badass and practical armor.. it’s padded sumo suits that they can’t move in because “less mobility means less trouble”. Or you’ll get eaten by a hawk.. which given this show is probably also on fire and can shoot acid out of its’ eyes. Or lasers. Or acid lasers. The point is their gonna die. THey also naturally need the music box... which Hop Pop about craps himself hearing. Gee it’s almost like not getting the box sooner when you knew damn well abotu the temple thing and that they’d need it kinda bit you on the froggy bottom Hopidiah.

It gets worse for him as while he mentions his ‘contacts” again.. that night he goes to dig it up. Problem is, Anne follows him when she hears footsteps, and while she initially assumes i’ts just him being a weirdo and plans to suprise him... we instead get the gut punch we’ve been anticpating for the last year and a half. Hop Pop shouts about the box being gone, clearly panicked... and Anne hears him, utterly devistated and rightfully FURIOUS. He confesses the truth, clearly feeling guilty for what he’s done and lying all this time but Anne dosen’t want to hear it and storms off.

Yeah as you can tell this is a rough one. So next morning Hop Pop, who clearly hasn’t slept and given his surrogate grandaughter just rightfully walked out on him why would he, confesses to the kids what he did. And while neither like what he did .. they prioritize getting Anne back, sending him to go fix his mess while they find the box.

The box turns out to not be the only thing missing: various other things around town have been stolen, including a talisman that if Maddie dosen’t get it back will have horrifying consequences. Classic Maddie. As for why Swampy Joe has the answer: the magpie beetle, a beetle that emerges once every 20 years to steal stuff to use as a shell to impress mates. They find the box.. but it’s in a seatle of beatles and soon get swamped. Meanwhile Anne’s returned to the cave and... okay i’m just going to have to power through or this episodes going to kill me with sadness. After some bits about her and her rock rocky, Hop Pop finds her and she still has nothing to say to him, again for good reaosn, but before he can get to telling her WHY he did it, they hear the others crying for help and Anne tries to rescue them herself, only helping hop pop do so when he points out they NEED to and even if she rightfully dosen’t trust him she needs to for now. THey save the kids.. and Anne STILL wants to leave.

We then get an even bigger gut punch. It turns out Hop Pop didn’t hide the box for some big reveal.. regarding the box. Turns out it’s not the box itself, his book just says it’s dangerous and w’ell likely find out any specifics it had next week. It’s Hop Pop’s lingering trauma. While we don’t find out why the Box is dangerous.. we do find out what hapepned to their parents. And I just want to say before we get into that Bill Farmer’s acting this WHOLE episode is some of hte finest, if not THE finest in his career. HIs guilt, his pain.. it’s all so raw and palpable. Brenda Song’s no slouch either, Anne’s pain and anger is likewise very well done, but Bill is far and away the mvp of the episode.. and this scene is why.

He reveals he’s been so cautious, so scared for the kids and so overly protective in general.. because of how the kids parents died, something they don’t blame him for but he does: He was out of town on buisness.. when a pair of herons attacked. Sprig and Polly got to the family bunker in time.. their parents... weren’t so lucky. It’s not the big bombastic arc related death we all thought was coming.. but I like it for it’s brutal nightmarish simplicity. They didn’t die some heroic death, they aren’t still here.. they just died like SO MANY background frogs have. Two wild giant animals they coudln’t possibly defend against got em. Nothing could’ve been done no matter what Hop Pop thinks, theirs no way they coudl’ve been saved, and i’ts LUCKY their children didn’t share the same fate. But their gone and it gives a new, awful meaning to Hop Pop’s overproectivness. Before it was mildly justified if a bit strict.. now.. i’ts him trying not to loose what he has left. Trying to hold on tight to his grandkids so he dosen’t loose anyone else.

He hid the box because his trauma and guilt were so severe he did something very stupid, and regretted it ever since and begs anne to forgive him in THE best line read of Bill Farmer’s long and storied career. And she does, hugging her Hop Pop gently, realizing that while he fucked up.. she gets WHY he did.. and that he’s sorry for it. He wasn’t tyring to keep her from going home or any messed up shit.. he just was trying to keep her and his other kids alive. And as Sprig and Polly say it’s not his fault, it never could’ve been.. he can’t help but feel that way. You just feel.. powerless when you loose someone, like you could’ve done something even though 9/10 you couldn’t have and it leaves a hole you never quite fill. So this hit like a truck. But our family is reconclied and the kids get a look at the entry in Hop Pop’s ancestral book. What does it say besides it bad? what does this mean? We’ll find out next week. For now it’s just good to have them all together again.

Final Thoughts on After the Rain: This episode is a masterpiece. It’s exepertly crafted, sticks in a few gags for flavor and only has the sprig and polly plot to help keep the main meat of the plot as light as it needs to be.. and it works. The few scenes we get with Anne and Hop Pop are just plain brutal and exactly what’s needed. It’s one of the series best, painful, raw and with a twist I dind’t see coming. I expected, again like most of us for the kdis parents deaths to be tied into it.. but instead.. it’s just trauma. But it’s satisfying enough that it feels like a great payoff, that it wasn’t some big dark secret like misdirected... it was just an old man who didn’t want to loose what family he had left. And that’s fucking brilliant.

Next Week: THE FIRST TEMPLE BABY! The Plantars and Marcie head into the woods to fight moblins and ggghosts! I mean.. that is what the forest temple is right?

Until then follow me for more reviews, follow me on my patreon your support would be appricated and see you at the next rainbow.

#amphibia #after the rain #ivy on the run #anne boonchuy #hopidiah plantar #sprig plantar #ivy sundew #polly plantar #felcia sundew #one eyed wally #maddie flour #amphibia spoilers

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rushingheadlong · 4 years

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Make It Up (As You Go Along) - A Freddie x m!Reader fic

Summary: Freddie’s birthday is quickly approaching… and so is yours. The only problem is that Freddie doesn’t know that, and you don’t particularly want to tell him.

Words: ~2200

Tags: Male Reader, H/C, brief mention of a bad relationship with parents

Notes: Happy birthday to Freddie! And also happy birthday to me, because my birthday is also September 5th and as such I have written this absolutely self-indulgent birthday-themed fic as a gift for myself.

You regret the lie the moment that it slips out. You had been hoping that the subject of your birthday would somehow never come up, but with all the preparations for Freddie’s party in full swing it was only a matter of time before he asked you, “Oh, darling, by the way, when’s your birthday?” and when he did you just panicked.

“Oh, ah- May. May 14th,” you tell him… except that’s not really your birthday at all.

Freddie pouts a little. “So I have to wait half a year to spoil you rotten?”

You for a laugh and lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You say that as if you don’t spoil me rotten every day of the week anyway.”

“Well, I can’t help it when I have a gorgeous boyfriend like you,” Freddie says. He catches you around the waist before you can pull away and kisses you properly, and you let yourself melt against him a little as the lie fades from your thoughts.

And it is easy to forget about the lie. Freddie’s birthday, you’re given to understand, is always a huge production but he takes a certain amount of genuine joy in planning it and you love seeing him this happy. He keeps asking your opinion on decorations or invitation lists and you like being involved in it all. You’ve never been able to plan a proper birthday party before, and even if you know that Freddie will always just do whatever he wants to do you like seeing it all come together anyway.

Freddie’s party is scheduled for September 6th, a Friday night, but Thursday morning you wake up to find flowers and cards and gifts already streaming into the house. Freddie is in the lounge with a cup of tea and that’s where you join him as Phoebe and Joe sort through all of the deliveries.

“Good morning, my love,” Freddie greets you as you curl up next to him. You’re not nearly as much of a morning person as Freddie is and you let your eyes slip closed as you cuddle close against his side.

“Good morning,” you mumble in response.

Freddie laughs and kisses the top of your head. “I’ll have Phoebe bring you a cup of tea, alright?”

“Alright,” you say, though it comes out more like a soft slur of vowels instead of an actual word.

You don’t really fall asleep again, but you do doze off a little as Freddie asks Phoebe to bring you some tea and he accepts another stack of cards from Joe which he perfunctorily riffles through before setting aside. It’s cozy here at Freddie’s side, with only the sound of Phoebe and Joe talking in hushed whispers in the hall breaking the last of the morning’s quietness that’s still clinging to the house.

“Oh, Joe, dear, we don’t have any more room for flowers in here, take those somewhere else, why don’t you?” Freddie says, softly, so as not to disturb you.

“Sorry Freddie, but these- Well, these aren’t for you.”

“What do you mean they aren’t for me? Who are they for then?”

“The card says they’re for Y/N.”

It takes a moment for the words to register, but when they do it feels like someone dropped a bucket of ice water down your spine. You scramble to sit up, your stomach already twisting into knots, just as Freddie asks, “What? Why? What else does the card say?”

“Dear Y/N, We hope you have-”

“Joe, stop-” you try to say, but it’s too late.

“-a very happy birthday.” The color drains out of Joe’s face and he looks up at you, uncertain and apologetic.

“Birthday?” Freddie echoes, giving you a disbelieving look. “What do you mean, birthday?”

“They- It must be from someone who just wrote the wrong name on the card!” you say with a nervous laugh. “Obviously, they’re not really for me-”

“Sorry, Y/N. The card says they’re from your parents,” Joe says quietly.

You stand up and wrench the flowers from his hands and, yes, sure enough they’re from your parents. How they found out you were living with Freddie you have no idea - probably one of your sisters, and you’ll have to have words with them later. But that doesn’t help you now, with Joe standing awkwardly next to you and Freddie staring at you with the beginnings of anger starting to creep into his eyes.

“Birthday,” he says again. “You said your birthday was in May, Y/N. So why are you getting flowers from your parents now?”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want them-”

“This isn’t about the fucking flowers!” Freddie snaps, and Joe makes a quick escape out of the room. “This is about you, apparently, lying to me about your birthday! When is it, really?”

You gnaw on your lip, and look away from him, and debate throwing yourself out of the window to avoid this conversation.

“Y/N,” Freddie says. “When is your birthday?”

You swallow harshly and stare down at the floor as you finally come clean. “Today. September 5th.”

“Today,” Freddie repeats. “You- Your birthday is today. We share a birthday and you lied about it? Why?”

You open your mouth, close it, swallow again. The words are there but they stick in your throat and don’t want to come out, and you hear Freddie snort in disgust after a too-long moment of silence. “Right, well, let me guess then. You thought I’d throw some diva fit about having to share the spotlight with you, so you thought you’d just lie to me instead, was that it?”

“No! No, Freddie, no-”

“I thought you, of all people, would know that I’m not like that, but I guess I was wrong,” Freddie continues as if he didn’t hear you talking, and maybe he didn’t. You finally look up at him but he’s no longer looking at you, at least not directly. He’s staring down at the floor, his hands clenched tightly together, and even with his face partially hidden you can see the tightness in his mouth that tells you that he really is properly angry about this.

“Well, if that’s the sort of person you think I am, then you can get the hell out of my house,” Freddie says as he looks back up at you. His eyes are hard, his jaw is set, but there’s a real pain on his face too that cuts you to see.

And you’re angry now too, angry that Freddie is jumping to these conclusions instead of giving you one damn second to gather your thoughts and try to explain your actions to him. “If that’s what you want then fine, I’ll leave!” you snap. “Because I don’t fucking need to be with someone who’s so fucking self-centered that everything always has to be about him!”

Something flashes across Freddie’s face and he shifts, a little uncomfortable, but you’re on your own tirade now and nothing - not even Freddie fucking Mercury - can stop you.

“I don’t need you, Freddie! I don’t need this house or my birthday or these stupid flowers from my parents who don’t give a fuck about me anyway!” You throw the flowers onto the ground and the vase shatters, sending water and shards of glass and plant material flying across the floor, and causing Freddie to shout and jump to his feet.

“You want to know why I lied about my birthday? Because it doesn’t fucking matter! My birthday has never mattered! My family doesn’t care, my friends have never cared, and at this point I don’t fucking care either!” you yell at Freddie. “All I wanted was to enjoy your party and celebrate your birthday, because mine has never been important!”

You turn to leave, but Freddie grabs your wrist just as you reach the doorway and says, “Y/N. Wait, please, wait.”

You don’t turn around. You don’t want Freddie to see the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “What do you want, Freddie?” you ask, and it doesn’t come out angry anymore. Even to your own ears, you just sound tired.

“Come back to the sofa with me. Let’s talk about this properly, alright?” Freddie says gently. His thumb is rubbing along the inside of your wrist and you can feel your resolve, and the last of your anger, starting to crumble.

“Alright,” you relent after a moment.

You let Freddie gently coax you back around and his face crumbles when he sees the tears. “Oh, Y/N…” He reaches up and gently wipes them away, and you can’t hold back a small sniffle at his tenderness. He cradles your face in his hands and kisses your forehead and says, “I am so sorry for what I said, love. I didn’t mean a word of it, and I should have let you explain instead of jumping to conclusions.”

“I shouldn’t have lied to you,” you say, absolutely miserably. “I’m sorry Freddie, I panicked and I regretted it the moment I said it but I didn’t know how to take it back-”

“It’s alright, darling, I promise it’s alright,” Freddie cuts in before you can work yourself up too badly. “Let’s go sit down, alright? We’ll sit down and we’ll talk about this like the rational adults we always pretend to be.”

You manage a small smile at that and let Freddie lead you back to the couch. You don’t curl up against him like you did before - god, those half-asleep cuddles feel so long ago now - but Freddie takes your hand in his, and that’s alright for now.

“I’m sorry, Freddie,” you apologize again. “I shouldn’t have lied, I know that, I just… Well, I hate my birthday. My family never celebrated it, not really. Oh, my parents would make a show of taking me out to dinner at restaurants they chose and giving me practical, respectable gifts instead of anything I actually wanted…” You shake your head. “God, that makes me sound so selfish, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not selfish to want a little bit of attention on your birthday,” Freddie says, but you shake your head.

“I don’t want attention, though. That’s why I lied,” you tell him. “I don’t like celebrating my birthday. I don’t like people making a fuss over me, and every time I’ve tried to have a party my friends have all been busy anyway. I don’t like being given a ton of things that I don’t need and don’t want and have to pretend to care about so I don’t hurt other people’s feelings. I just want to have some time alone to do something nice for myself.” You manage to give Freddie a small smile and add, “Or else spend the day with someone I love.”

Freddie smiles back at you, but there’s still a hint of hurt in his eyes - and you only realize that it’s for you when he says, “I’m so sorry, lovie. I’m sorry that you’ve never had a birthday that you’ve enjoyed. If you don’t want to celebrate that’s perfectly alright but, darling, we could have done something. Phoebe could have baked your favorite scones for breakfast, instead of just mine. We could have made arrangements to go out to your favorite restaurant for dinner tonight, and I could have bought you your favorite flowers even if you didn’t want anything else.”

“Do you even know what my favorite flowers are?” you ask with a small, watery laugh.

“Peach roses,” Freddie says, without hesitation. “And tulips, in any color. And lilacs. And daffodils.” He does laugh a little then, and adds, “You like most flowers, but those are your favorites.”

“They are,” you have to admit, and you’re crying again but luckily Freddie is still there to wipe the tears away again. “I’m so-”

“If you apologize again, I will have to do something drastic to shut you up,” Freddie says, teasing. “It’s quite alright. I’m only upset that today is going to be entirely about me, when it should be about you as well, so if there’s anything you want today…”

“There isn’t anything, not really,” you tell him. “I just want to spend the day with you.”

“Well then, I think that can be arranged.” Freddie stands up and gently pulls you to your feet as well. “Let’s start off by going back upstairs so we can enjoy our birthdays together.” He looks at the mess on the floor from where you smashed the vase and adds, “And so this can get cleaned up.”

You look down at the mess and wince a little. “I should-”

“You should come upstairs with me,” Freddie interrupts gently. “Joe or Phoebe can handle it, and you can apologize to them later if that will make you feel better.” He kisses you, so tenderly that it makes your chest ache, and murmurs against your lips. “Come to bed, Y/N. Please?”

“Yes,” you breathe against his mouth, and you feel him smile against you - before he pulls away and, beaming, leads the way back up to the bedroom.

#freddie mercury fanfic #freddie mercury x male reader #queen band fanfic #queen band fic #my fic #freddie #(wasn't going to post this but the DL server convinced me to so... blame this on them? fladskjflak)#(I'm entirely joking thank u guys for talking me into putting this up here)

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wafflesetc · 4 years

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Chapter 19: An Unexpected Meeting (previously)

Claire Beauchamp is a second year medical student. Due to many late nights with her clinicals, and studying for her pharmacology class, she’s at wits end. One Friday night she decides not to join Joe Abernathy and her other friends out at Church, their local hangout spot, but instead winds up in a dive bar close to her flat with a very nice whisky selection. In fact, one of the best one she’s ever seen. When the bartender calls her ‘Sassenach’ and pours her a double, Claire gets a feeling in her chest she’s never felt before.

A/N: I *know* it’s been... A while. I could give you every reason under the sun why it has been that long. My excuses are valid and reason enough, I still want to apologize for the lengthy delay. I never intended to go a whole year between updates. I promise it won’t be that long again. The revival of this fic is long owed to @happytoobserve who has been one of its biggest cheerleaders since day 1. To @walkinginland, @kkruml, and @missclairebelle who held my hand during this process of getting my legs back with these two, I owe you indefinitely.

And most importantly, to the readers who even after A YEAR are still excited for what is in store for these two, I hope this was worth the wait.

ALL MY LOVE, WAFFLES

PS- This is a bit angsty. I just ask that you trust me, okay?!

“Joe, I will call you… Later.” I crossed my arms and gave my friend a knowing glance, one he’d seen before and knew I needed space for a bit.

“Ok, Lady Jane.” He gave a nod in the direction of John and found his way out of the building.

I took a breath and turned my attention to our guest. “There’s a courtyard just outside the building. Is it okay if we talk there? I have another class in about 45 minutes.”

“That is fine.” He agreed. I gestured towards the doors and we slowly made our way.

“How are you?” John asked, politely. I could feel he was trying to ease the palpable tension between the two of us.

I was trying to be pleasant and cordial, but whatever reserve I had would quickly fade away. “All things considered, I am doing just dandy.” We rounded a corner and I sat down on the first bench that I saw. “Finals are coming up soon, Jamie’s healing just fine, and I have an amazing opportunity in Paris.”

“That’s wonderful.” John said earnestly as he sat down next to me. “I’m really happy for you. I must apologize for coming to you while you’re in classes… But this is rather time sensitive.”

“I have one question, first.” I closed my eyes and took a breath. “I think you owe me that much.”

John stifled a laugh and put his hand on my knee. It startled me for a moment, but after a quick glance at his face I could tell how honest he was trying to be. “I have turned your world upside down, basically overnight. I think a question is reasonable.”

“Does Jamie know?” I could feel the tears rising to the surface. “Does Jamie know about William?”

“No.” John took a breath and released it. “As far as I know, he doesn’t.” There was a sincerity in his voice I couldn’t point, but something in me knew he wasn’t lying.

“I am going to need you to elaborate on that one.” I was being honest. The last bits of strength that I had were hanging by a few fine threads, ready to be cut at any moment.

“Jamie and Geneva… They went to high school together. Their families were very fond of each other. My future father-in-law granted the Frasers the land that Lallybroch thrives upon. Jamie comes from a good family and has a good head on his shoulders.”

I turned my face towards him to find him looking about the courtyard. There were a few students sitting on benches and blankets, presumably studying, however they were all scattered on the opposite side. We were alone in many respects, no one to hear or interrupt us. John stayed silent for a little while. I could see the small film of tears in his own eyes. Surely, whatever he was about to say was going to change things for me.

“But unfortunately, we are all human at one point or another and make mistakes.” He sat back and looked around the garden once more, staying silent for a minute. I could tell he was gathering his thoughts, trying to tell me a story I wasn’t sure I even wanted to hear. Carefully trying to thread together a story that was neither his nor mine, yet that we had been somehow woven into.

“Isobel did not go on at length, but the summer before they were going away to university is when it happened. Geneva never gave her family the details, and when her parents realized what was going to happen in a few months' time, they sent her to England to live with her aunt and uncle.”

I wiped a tear and waited for him to continue. The reality of what he was about to tell me started to sink in. Those fine threads were about to be cut, I could tell. I didn’t want to cry over a past that was not mine, but Jamie’s past was putting kinks into our future- a future I had planned with him.

“She stayed there and raised him, but about three years ago the crash happened and Geneva died.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. It put a small smile on John’s face. A sense of relief flooded through me, I did not want to dislike this Geneva, but another woman who knew my Jamie, intimately, well I was not prepared to handle any issues of jealousy. Was it selfish and morbid I was relieved I didn’t have to meet or try to measure up to the mother of his child, but also regretful over the fact the poor boy had lost his mother? Probably, but having lost my own mother as a child, I knew first hand how hard it was, and no child deserved that sort of pain. Nonetheless, it didn’t make the current circumstances any easier and I did think I was allowed to be a bit selfish when it came to my future.

“She left the care and trust of her son to Isobel- but at the time Isobel was still young herself, finishing university with plans of graduate school. Their aunt and uncle were rather fond of William, so they allowed him to stay with them. England is all William has ever known, and he is very attached to Edith and Mark.”

I must have been crying more than I knew because John handed me a tissue.

“Shall I continue, or is that enough?” I saw a helplessness in his eyes. This news was life changing for me, yet in many ways it had been for him too.

I sat motionless, not knowing what to do or say. I didn’t know what I wanted but something must have urged him to go on.

“Mark fell very ill last year, and he isn’t doing well. That’s when Edith contacted Isobel asking what they would want for William, should something happen. Life has a funny twist of fate….” He let out a small laugh at what I presumed was his so-called twist of fate.

“Because Jamie and I met during our years at university- I had no clue he was acquainted with the Dunsanys. Isobel and I met during graduate school, and when I mentioned a story with James Fraser, her mouth dropped. She told me about William only a few months ago though, and that is when I started trying to call Jamie.”

“And now, I’m pulled into your so-called funny twist of fate.” My words were short, and I could feel something brewing in my stomach.

Truth was, I wanted to like John Grey. He seemed to be an honest, respectable man. It wasn’t his fault for the events that had happened in the past, yet he was here and seemed to be wanting to talk about this, even before he told Jamie. This was all confusing in so many different ways. This- John Grey- a long time friend of Jamie’s, was really someone from my boyfriend’s past I was sure I’d enjoy his company, but given the current circumstances, I didn’t like the news he was bringing me. My reading on him was all over the map.

“Yes, you are.” John gave me a soft smile. “I’ve been coming to Edinburgh for business lately, and I knew I would find Jamie here. We talk, not all that often, but we are old friends. Always able to pick up where we left off.”

“Mhmm.” It was all I could muster. Mentally and emotionally, I was just drained. This was too much for one conversation, but I had to try to hold myself together. Just for a little while longer at least.

“I had wanted to tell him the first time I was in town but when we met, he was so excited to tell me about something that had happened to him…” John reached across and took my hand in his, giving it light squeeze.

“It was me, wasn’t it?” Jamie and I had happened quickly. I hadn’t been looking for a relationship, especially after Frank and I had ended just shortly before. Yet Jamie had fallen into my orbit and was something that held to me like gravity. He had seamlessly fixed himself into my universe and just fit. Even I had a hard time explaining it to anyone.

“It was,” John smiled at me. “I had never seen him smile the way he did when he said your name. And when he started to tell me about you he’d never been so proud of anything in his life. Even his bar. Claire…” He gave my hand a firm squeeze this time and smiled so wide I knew that deep down whatever he was about to say he meant it with every fiber in his being.

“I hope I am not about to overstep a boundary, especially because we don’t really know each other, but Jamie loves you and is planning his future with you in it. Whether you are aware of that or not- I have seen it in your eyes you feel the same way. The news of William will rock the foundation on which he has lived his life since his parents died.”

“Yes, it will.” I agreed.

“It’s complicated, in many ways. And Geneva should have told him, or my future-in-laws should have too. But I think they all wanted Jamie to live his life rather than doing what was right at the time. It stunned me when Isobel told me about it, so much so, I questioned whether or not to continue with the engagement…”

“But you did.”

“I did, and I do not regret my choice. When Jamie told me about you, I made a vow to myself I would tell the two of you together, so he had you to ground him. But I am glad I told you first. I think it would be best for you to know so we can tell him together.”

“Together.” I whispered either to myself or to John, I didn’t really know. “You want to do it together so I’m there to comfort him, right?

“I think I have taken up enough of your time, and I have surely given you something to digest.”

I laughed at that, and I saw a small purse of his lips.

“Yes, I have.” He chuckled at the look on my face, “But Claire… I am telling you as a long time friend of Jamie’s, you either stick with him through this or don’t. He has already lost so much in his life. I cannot stand for it to happen to him again, so whatever you choose to do, I hope you make a wise choice.”

“What do you mean?” I felt the pit of anxiety raising in my stomach.

“I told you he sees a future with you. If you don’t think you can handle whatever relationship William is to have with Jamie, then you should leave him now. Don’t help him through this and leave him later… He… Would never recover.”

With that he stood and handed me a piece of paper. “Here is my number; Jamie doesn’t know I’m in town yet. I made reservations for dinner for you, me, Jamie and Isobel for tomorrow night. You can tell him on your own if you’d like tonight since it appears you have a glass face, or we can tell him tomorrow...But please, think of what you want with him, with whatever choice you make.”

John gave me a small bow and left me. I felt the buzz of my alarm going off alerting me that class was starting in ten minutes. I wouldn’t be going. The last thing I could do was sit in a lecture hall and pretend to be interested in pharmacology.

Hastily, I reached into my bag and typed an email to my professor.

Dr. Glassman, I have had a small family emergency arise. I will not be making it to the lecture. I will get notes from Joe Abernathy and follow up with you after the next class.

Claire Beauchamp

The whoosh of the email sounded in my ears. I shoved my phone back into my bag, rising to my feet.

I had already made my choice. Long before I had even known about a man named John Grey.

Jamie had told me we had room for secrets but not for lies. And I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he had no clue what was going on. Jamie was an intuitive man, so I knew he could sense John had life changing news for him, but what the news was, Jamie surely didn’t know.

I didn’t know how I was going to tell Jamie or what my plan was, but I knew he would be seeking my forgiveness for this- for all of it. Truth was, I’d give it to him. I’d already forgiven everything he had done and everything he could do long before today.

For me that was no choice, that was falling in love.

#Outlander #Outlander fanfic #Jamie x Claire #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Closing Time AU #myfic!#craigh na queue

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megalony · 4 years

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Serendipity- Part 2

Here is the second part in my new murderer! Ben Hardy series which I hope you will all enjoy, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Series taglist: @onceuponadetectivedemigod

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Series masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is trying to keep moving on with her life after her affair with Joe’s brother, Ben who is in and out of prison. But Ben won’t let her go so easily even after the torment he imposes on her. He wants to be in their sons life but things aren’t easy when everyone believes Harvey is Joe’s son, not Ben’s.

Enjoy.

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"Will Benny be here?"

"I don't know baby, he's pretty busy right now." (Y/n) tried hard to keep the irritation from her voice because she knew it wasn't Harvey's fault. He didn't know or understand that Ben was a difficult person to be around and that most of his family didn't want to be in his presence. Harvey seemed to be the sole person who wanted to be around Ben right now and that made things ten times worse because he was the one person who (Y/n) wanted to shield away from Ben.

When the three of them entered Joe's parent's house, (Y/n) let go of Harvey's hand, knowing that he was going to find Lucy and run straight to her.

(Y/n) found herself watching after him for a few moments as a feeling of dread crept into her stomach and chest. Ben was right last week, people were going to tell in a few years to come that Harvey wasn't Joe's boy. If his looks weren't enough to make people think of Ben then his interests were, he was sporty like Ben and he was infatuated with any stories that Ben told him about fighting and boxing. Ben was becoming a role model to him and (Y/n) couldn't do anything but watch as karma came to bite her in the ass.

"It's bad enough that he idolises Ben, but you let him take Harvey out last week. What if something happened? What do we do when he eventually finds out what Ben's like?"

Joe slipped his jacket from his shoulders but his eyes stayed solely focused on (Y/n), waiting for her response and her reaction to his words. He wasn't intending to rile her up but he couldn't help how it was already annoying him. His little brother was dangerous and if it wasn't enough that Harvey was so fond of Ben it was worse that he had been out with Ben when he had only just come out of prison. Joe didn't trust his brother as far as he could throw him even if he was trying to make amends and stop the bridges from burning between them.

"For God's sake Joe it wasn't like Ben stole him, I went with them and nothing would have happened anyway because Ben adores him. And as far as I'm concerned he doesn't find out unless you want to be the one to break it to him."

(Y/n) found herself debating whether to say that Ben loved Harvey but she quickly decided against it. Even if it seemed true, Ben's kind of love was twisted and corrupted and she couldn't bare to think that Ben felt that kind of love for Harvey. It was better to think he adored him rather than loved him.

It was clear that Ben wouldn't hurt Harvey, he won't put him in danger or scare him or get violent towards him in any way and that was clear to everyone. But because Ben was dangerous no one wanted him around Harvey and (Y/n) especially didn't because Ben was a lethal weapon and he could ruin Harvey's life. He could tell him he was his dad and when Harvey eventually found out what Ben was like it would confuse, scare and torment him until all he could think of was that he was going to turn out like Ben. (Y/n) wanted her son safe and protected and thinking Joe was his dad and keeping him as far away from Ben as possible was the best way she could think to do that.

"We both know what Ben's like, sorry for wanting Harvey away from that."

(Y/n)'s eyes followed Joe but her body went in a different direction until she was walking into the kitchen to get herself a drink. They were here for a family dinner since it was Sunday and they hadn't all been together for a while but (Y/n) had a distinct feeling that Ben was going to turn up. He was always invited no matter what crime he had committed or how badly he was bruised and beaten up. Coming out of prison meant nothing to his parents because they were simply too afraid to lose their youngest son.

Cutting Ben out of the family wasn't an option, everyone loved him too much to do that. Even when (Y/n) tried to cut her ties with him he just kept crawling back out of the shadows until it was impossible not to think about him, let alone go without seeing him for a day or a week.

"Hey... Harvey said you've seen Ben, how is he?"

The drink in (Y/n)'s hand was set down after she'd downed half of it when Lucy's voice flooded her ears. When she turned her head to look over at Lucy (Y/n) felt her stomach constricting at the worried look on her face. Joe and Ben had never been the closest of siblings but Lucy and Ben had always been close in a way that reminded (Y/n) of twins. It didn't matter what Ben did or how cruel and twisted he became, Lucy still cared about him and it gave Ben an advantage and something to play on whenever he felt like it.

Lucy leaned her side against the kitchen counter as her lips curved into a soft but concerned smile. Her short platinum hair was crimped into small waves and curls which framed sweetly around her face and the black eyeliner and eyeshadow she had on framed her blue eyes.

Even though she had no idea just how close Ben was to (Y/n), Lucy did know that her brother was rather close to (Y/n), almost like he had an infatuation with her.

"He's... how he normally is. You'd think he was back from a holiday rather than prison, put it that way." There were no words in (Y/n)'s vocabulary right now to explain just how Ben had acted and how he seemed when he visited her last week. Cheeky didn't cover it at all and even though he put (Y/n) on edge, he wasn't on edge himself, he was right where he wanted to be in terms of his comfort zone.

"I suppose that's better, considering how he was when he was released a few years ago." Lucy's words were spoken as she had a faraway look in her eyes causing her to miss the way (Y/n) shivered, knowing exactly what time Lucy was referring to.

It did seem better that Ben was happy and his usual self when he was released rather than bearing a grudge for something because he could be ruthless when he wanted and no one got spared when he was like that. The time Lucy was referring to was when Ben had done six months in prison and came out like Lucifer being released from Hell because he'd been away when Harvey was born. He had wanted to be there when his son was born and it had put him on the warpath that everyone was congratulating Joe and singing his praises when it wasn't even his child.

"Oh, thank you, by the way."

"What for?" A feeling of dread started to slowly build up in the pit of (Y/n)'s stomach because even though Lucy's words and her smile were genuine, she had the same look about her that Ben did. Ben smiled and played innocent when he was about to unleash Hell onto (Y/n) and that shared look made her fear that one day Lucy was going to turn around and shatter her world with a few simple words just like her brother.

"For letting Ben see Harvey. Joe and dad are adamant that he shouldn't but Ben loves spending time with him, it means a lot to him that you let him see Harvey and you never turn him away."

(Y/n) knew she was overthinking what Lucy was saying, but she couldn't help but feel like Lucy knew more than she was letting on. It felt like she was hinting at the truth which no one else should know and it made (Y/n)'s skin crawl and her heart beat faster in her chest. She knew that if Lucy did know the sordid truth, she would never be able to stay quiet about it because her conscience would never allow her to. She was being nice and understanding right now but (Y/n) couldn't help but read more into what she was saying because she was always on edge.

Ben made her anxious and nervous and she knew the catastrophe that would occur if people found out she'd had an affair with Ben and that he was Harvey's dad.

"Harvey adores him, I can't really say no."

(Y/n) couldn't turn Ben away either, he never let her.

Sweat started to prickle on (Y/n)'s skin when Lucy rested her hand on her arm for a second before she left the kitchen, presumably to go and talk to Joe or their parents. It would have been so much easier if Ben wasn't Joe's brother, if he was a stranger to them all so that (Y/n) never had to feel like whenever she saw their family she worried she would be caught out. She felt like a criminal, as if she had committed a crime with Ben and he was going to expose her because he didn't care if they knew or not.

Ben would rather the whole world know that Harvey was his boy and that he had (Y/n) under his spell, wrapped around his little finger. But he didn't say anything because of (Y/n) and what it would do to Harvey if he found out.

It felt like a lifetime had passed where (Y/n) stood drowning in her thoughts and the glass of juice that was almost empty. She knew soon enough that she would have to go and talk to Joe's parents and make her presence known, she also had to find out what Harvey was up to. But (Y/n) didn't get a chance to dwell on the thought of mingling with relatives before an arm suddenly curled around her waist.

For a split second, (Y/n) thought Joe was trying to cling to her like he did whenever they argued to get back into her good books. But when she felt the arm tighten and press into her hips, her eyes darted down to look at the hand. When she saw the roman numerals on each knuckle she knew it wasn't Joe standing behind her and as soon as a tall frame pressed up to her back it was as clear as day who was behind her.

"You look surprised, did you think I wouldn't turn up to see my family?"

When Ben's words were whispered in her ear (Y/n) shivered as her eyes darted around the kitchen to double check that no one was hovering in the doorway bearing witness to their infidelity. It wasn't like (Y/n) wanted to do this, Ben knew how anxious he made her and he knew that trying to be affectionate to her where they could get caught was only going to make her have a panic attack.

All the words got caught in (Y/n)'s throat and then swallowed down when she felt Ben pressing butterfly kisses to her neck until she tensed her shoulders and didn't tilt her head to give him more access. But her denial didn't bother him one bit for he simply leaned his temple against her cheek causing his hair to tickle her skin before he nudged her head until he has as much access to her neck as he wanted. He was like a vampire getting ready to strike.

"Someone will see." (Y/n) hissed the words like a snake but her tone made no difference because Ben only smiled against her skin.

"I'm counting on it, maybe then I don't have to sneak around you. Where's Harvey, I wanna see him." Ben sounded so authoritiative and demanding because he expected to get what he wanted and he knew (Y/n) would always give in to him.

A shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine at Ben's words that made her stomach twist itself into knots. He didn't sound like he was asking (Y/n) if he could see Harvey, he was giving her a demand that he wanted to and therefore he was going to get what he wanted. Ben knew well enough to know that (Y/n) barely ever managed to go against him, she could always say no to him but her actions never followed through with her words. Ben got his own way and everyone else allowed it because going against him was too hard.

She didn't want him to see Harvey. She didn't want her son getting even more attached to someone who was known to break people. But (Y/n) couldn't stop Ben from seeing Harvey or he would have no problem making things a Hell of a lot worse for (Y/n).

"H-he's here somewhere-" (Y/n) barely got three words out before a gasp left her breathless lungs and she froze in place when she felt Ben's teeth grazing against her neck just below her jaw. "Ben no!" She kept her words quiet in case someone heard when passing the kitchen and she was already surprised no one had walked in yet. She couldn't have Ben trying to leave marks on her skin because everyone would see and Joe would know he didn't leave those marks there.

"Worried your little hubby will know these are my marks, not his?"

"Please." (Y/n) dug her nails into the counter when Ben bit her neck before leaning back up, a sign that he wasn't going to tease her anymore, at least not by leaving any marks on her.

"Oh baby, don't worry I won't leave any marks until I've got you alone." He could feel how his words made (Y/n) shiver and they both knew it wasn't in a bad way. "Now, where's my boy?"

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Anxiety pummelled through (Y/n) to the point her body was shaking and she was coming over in a cold sweat. The phone call she received two days ago made her blood run cold and scared the flesh from her bones to the point she really didn't want to come here, but she didn't have a choice.

(Y/n) had no idea what Ben had called her about but it sounded serious and the dark tone of his voice told her that when he called her his face was one she was thankful not to see. He had been in prison for just over a month now and (Y/n) hadn't heard a thing from him until two days ago, not that she was really expecting to hear anything from him. He had been in prison before and never called her, but they'd never had an affair the last time he was behind bars.

He rang her at eight at night and shouted down the phone until she was in tears, demanding she come and see him within three days or he'd be calling Joe and telling him about their affair. (Y/n) had no idea what had rattled Ben so much but she knew his threat was real which was why she was waiting now to be taken to see him.

The moment Ben came into sight (Y/n) felt herself shaking worse and she was surprised the guard on her left hadn't pulled her to one side and asked if she was okay.

When Ben noticed her (Y/n) could see the anger in his eyes directed at her in a way she had never seen before. He had been cheeky, snide, dark and sometimes worrying around her but he was never frightening like he seemed right now. (Y/n) felt her heartbeat drumming in her ears as she slowly sat down opposite Ben who looked like he didn't know whether to sit or stand. He had his arms leaning on the reflective table, his hands gripped so tightly together that his knuckles were white despite the tattoos.

"Is it true?"

Ben's eyes were darker than (Y/n) had ever seen them before and she was sure his jaw was going to snap with how tight it was held in place. He leaned over the table until he was sneering at her like a rabid dog that was about to snap and bite her.

"What... Ben I- I don't know what you mean, I don't know why you called me or threatened me like that. What do you think I've done?"

(Y/n) didn't know what she was expecting today but she didn't think he would dive right into accusing her of something. She felt compelled to ask if he was okay, how he was coping, what he actually did this time to land himself back into the place that was becoming his second home. But he had no bruises or broken bones or marks so she guessed he wasn't fighting and was therefore doing okay. And he never told anyone why he got arrested, usually no one wanted to know.

"I talked to Lucy the other day, and she told me your pregnant. Tell me it's not true." His words were quiet but there was no missing the cold tone to his voice or the venom that was on his tongue as he spoke.

There was a burning intensity in Ben's eyes as he watched the emotions flood through (Y/n)'s eyes. She tried hard to stop her eyes from glossing over as her arms wrapped around her chest like she was trying to cut off her breathing and her circulation. She didn't think her and Joe were going to be telling anyone right now but he had clearly confided in Lucy that they were having a baby and she thought it was common knowledge. And with how close she was to Ben it was only natural she was going to talk to him about it because she knew he was friends with (Y/n).

"You want me to lie to you?" (Y/n) curled in on herself when Ben's upper lip curled and he snarled as his eyes narrowed darkly.

"We're you going to tell me?"

"We would have told you when we told everyone else, I didn't know Joe told Lucy-"

"That's not what I asked. I said, when were you going to tell me?" Ben curled his left hand into a fist barring his index finger which he tapped against the table like he was making a point or demanding something from her, which essentially he was.

But (Y/n) couldn't give him an answer because she didn't have one. Ben would have been told by Joe or Lucy or their parents soon enough just like he already had been but (Y/n) wouldn't have told him herself. She couldn't have pushed herself to tell him and she didn't even think she would ever get a phone call off him, let alone come to prison and actually visit him. Never before had she stepped inside a prison and she didn't know if she ever would again. But (Y/n) wondered deep down that if Ben ever got put back in prison and he called, maybe she would come running. She came today because he put the fear of God into her over the phone, but if he was kind and determined like he normally was with her she might have visited him then too.

"You're shitting me, right? You've slept with me for the last year and you don't think to mention you're now pregnant? You think I don't deserve to know you're having my kid?"

"Did Lucy say it was yours?" (Y/n) didn't know where the sudden bolt of courage came from that allowed her to use her voice properly and sit up straight in her chair but the courage disappeared the moment Ben's expression changed. He knew his sister clearly assumed it was (Y/n) and Joe expecting a baby but Ben just knew this was his child. He was the one (Y/n) had been sneaking around and sleeping with for near on a year now so it went without saying that there was a ninety percent chance this was his baby.

"I don't believe that after all the times I fucked you, you went straight home to my inferior brother and slept with him too, or else why would you keep coming back to me? Now you tell me the fucking truth and stop lying to both of us. How many months gone are you and do you honestly believe that's his kid and not mine?"

"I came here because at eight at night you blackmailed me and scared the shit out of me. Who threatens someone down the phone and then shouts at them when they go out of their way to see you? You're in prison Ben, do you get that? You're supposed to be here for the next two years and you think you should have a baby?"

"If you don't answer my questions I will walk away from you right now and the next phone call I make will tell my brother each and every time, place and date where I fucked you behind his back. I have no problem with him finding out that he's so useless, tiring and inferior that you turned to me and still can't help yourself. You want him to know everything we've done behind his tiny little back?"

(Y/n) couldn't hold back the tears that fell from her eyes at his cruel, sadistic words.

There was no fear, remorse or pain in his voice. He was deathly serious that if (Y/n) didn't tell him what he wanted to hear then he would use his threats against her to break his big brother's world into shattered pieces and crush (Y/n) in the process without a second thought.

Ben didn't even care how badly he was upsetting and hurting (Y/n) right now. He had never been like this with her and it was frightening, even with the guards dotted around the large room to protect everyone, (Y/n) still didn't feel safe. Ben had never hurt her before but she knew how cruel he could be and right now she wouldn't put it past him that he might turn to violence with how cruel he was being and how tormented he seemed.

"I'm four months along, and it doesn't matter that I... I know it's your baby. You're in prison, you kill people and frankly sometimes you can be a monster, no child should have someone like you as their dad. As far as everyone knows, this is Joe's baby and you will keep it that way because you are stuck in here. No one will believe you if you tell them and if you do then I can promise your sadistic ass you will not see me or this baby for as long as you live."

(Y/n) knew this was Ben's baby and that thought scared her to the bone because she didn't want her child to grow up with the same sadistic tendencies and gruesome thoughts and actions that Ben did. If her child turned out like the man sitting in front of her (Y/n) would go beside herself and her mind would shatter.

But if her baby grew up with someone like Joe as their dad then those tendencies might never come about and they could have a childhood where they were never afraid of their dad or bullied for who their dad was.

She almost lost herself in thought until Ben slammed his fist down on the table so suddenly and forcefully that (Y/n) jumped back in her seat and recoiled into herself. Her eyes were blown wide with fear as she watched Ben hold his hands up in defence so the guard didn't come over and restrain him for showing an inch of the anger he felt inside of him.

"You have the nerve to call me sadistic? You sleep with me, you sneak around behind my brother's back and then go home to him and pretend that he's enough for you. And now you're telling me you plan to pretend my child his his?"

"You had an affair with your brother's girlfriend and you murder people like you're killing a spider. You fucked me, that doesn't make you a dad which is something you should never be."

(Y/n) watched the way Ben's eyes darted from her eyes down to her stomach that was visibly round beneath her shirt that did nothing to hide it. The more he looked at her stomach, the faster his finger started to tap against the table until he was hitting out a brutal beat that got harder and harder until it felt like he was hammering a nail right through her stomach. She had riled him up, something (Y/n) never wanted to do and she knew if she said one more damning thing to him he would explode.

"Lying to Joe doesn't make him a dad either. Trick yourself all you want but I'm not hiding the fact that you're having my baby, not his. That's my child."

"Too bad no one will ever know that. Goodbye Ben."

(Y/n) pushed herself up from her seat and placed her bag on her shoulder, watching with burning intensity in her eyes as Ben stood up but looked like he wanted to grab her or even shout at her for this. He wasn't finished talking but she wasn't going to continue this pointless conversation any longer. Ben was going to be here for months and (Y/n) wasn't waiting around for him or ruining the life she had just because Ben was too obsessive to let her go. She was going to do something cruel to Joe by lying to him but it was for her baby, not for herself. She couldn't let her baby have Ben as their father and she knew Ben wasn't going to tell because he risked never seeing his child and losing (Y/n).

"You fucking bitch!"

The way Ben almost screamed his tormenting words made (Y/n) stumble back into her chair. She had never seen such rage in someone's eyes before that was directed fully and completely towards her. He looked like she had just told him she had cheated on him with his brother and was having his brother's baby rather than it being the mirrored way around.

There was no time for (Y/n) to back away or scream or even to try and ask Ben to calm down before he grasped the edge of the table and flung it on its side out of rage. (Y/n) half expected him to turn into the hulk at any moment and crush her in the palm of his hand. The tears that fell from her eyes and the shaking in her system didn't impact on him one bit when usually he would have broken down for seeing how he was petrifying her. Ben liked to tease and make her anxious and he didn't normally back down but he had never made her feel afraid for any reason and she had never been scared of him before now.

Guards were alerted from Ben's harsh outburst but they didn't get to him before he took two steps and got to (Y/n). His hands clamped down on her upper arms and pulled her until she stumbled over her uncoordinated feet and into his chest.

"You're fucking lucky your pregnant right now. That's my baby and you can't change that, lying to yourself doesn't make it his child it makes it a murderer's baby and you'll never live that down."

(Y/n) couldn't tell if Ben was shaking her or if she was trembling but either way she felt like she was going to be sick and when Ben's hand held her chin bruisingly she sobbed until someone ripped him off her and another guard pulled her a safe distance away.

She watched in terror and pain as three guards had to pull Ben away and pin him down to the ground when he kicked out at a chair, forcefully and precisely smashed his foot into a guard's chest and then clamped his arm around the poor guard's neck to choke him. Ben flung his head back into a guard's head until he heard the man's nose snap but he didn't manage to do more than push himself onto all fours before he was forced back onto his chest with his arms held behind his back.

(Y/n) didn't know how long Ben would actually spend in prison but she knew it was never going to be long enough for her to cope with what he had just said and done.

She didn't want him in her child's life.

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