Written for @trc-exchange and I got @heirofsilence who wanted to see a possibility of how Ronan and Gansey met. I’d like to think this is one of those many possibilities. I had a lot of fun writing this (despite working through writers block) and I hope you enjoy it!! This is my first TRC fic but I definitely want to try writing more for them in the future.
Kind of late but Happy Holidays!!
Once upon a time, there were two boys that met on accident. Such a meeting was the birth of a friendship with an unbreakable bond. One grew up in the capital of a country born in 1776 with a deadly allergy to wasps and a talent for finding things; a boy who almost died at the tender age of 7 and miraculously survived in place of another. The other grew up Virginia where dreams become reality, taught to fight and with an unrestricted mind; a boy who found the murdered body of his father and was never the before boy again. This is the story of how they met, after a near-death but before a murder.
oOᵒOo
Gansey - because it was Gansey and not Dick or Richard or any other variation of the name because he was his own especially with a couple months between 7 ⅚ and 8 years old - pulls open a door and holds back a small growl when a coat closet is revealed. He closes it silently and turns away with narrowing hazel eyes.
Unsurprisingly, he and Helen have been dragged along to another gathering somewhere in Virginia. He isn’t sure where and isn’t all that concerned, not when the homeowner has claimed to have lost one of her prized photo albums. He’s taken on the task of finding it because...well it’s what he does.
With renewed determination, Gansey marches off for the upstairs. He’s searched practically all of the ground floor and his finder senses are urging him to head upstairs. On the measured steps up - because Gansey’s don’t run - he nearly collides with another boy. Thin lips hold a cut and blue eyes stare right back in surprise, dark brown hair wild in a way to almost seem dangerous, even for someone who doesn’t seem that much older than Gansey, maybe a few months to a year max. The boy also holds a strikingly similar appearance to a man downstairs that he distinctly remembers his mother calling Lynch and joking about getting some of his treasures when she starts running. Running where? Gansey isn’t sure.
“Mr. Lynch,” Gansey decides on after a second of inspection on both party’s parts. His hand is held out because the boy is definitely older and his parents have taught him manners despite his past-time.
The look the other boy gives him could make Gansey laugh, the pinched brow and mixture of disgust and disbelief. “Ronan,” the other boy corrects. He smiles a crooked smile and takes Gansey’s hand, squeezing tightly as he shakes it.
Gansey smiles back, uncaring of the too tight grip on his hand. “Gansey. Are you busy Ronan?” His finder senses are tingling and he’s reluctant to let Ronan go.
“No,” Ronan says instantly.
“Ronan,” another voice says a couple seconds later, stern and the same tone that Richard Gansey II uses when Helen or Gansey have done something they know they shouldn’t. WIthout a thought, Gansey turns on his heel and quickly calls up where he last remembers his parents being. Helen, he can bribe off of tattling but if he’s caught by either parent it’s game over. “Come on,” he urges back to Ronan, using the grip on the other boy’s hand to tug him down the stairs.
When they hit the ground, he’s off to the left. There’s a servant’s staircase off of the kitchen. If they’re fast enough they’ll get away from whoever is upset with Ronan.
Luck is not strictly on their side when Gansey careens right into Helen. The two children and pre-teen all tumble into a heap on the ground.
“Dick,” Helen hisses because she’s at the age where she takes pleasure in annoying her little brother and there’s nothing he can do to stop her, “You’re so dead.”
Bribery between the Gansey children is fairly common so they’ve become experts in not only knowing what to bribe the other sibling with but also what exactly to use. It’s with that understanding that Gansey quickly pushes himself up and says, “I’ll tell Charles you like him.” He pauses to let that threat sink in before adding, “And I’ll get Tom to give you flying lessons when you’re 15.” Tom is the private pilot for the Gansey’s and he’s already promised to teach Helen how to fly when she turns 18 but Gansey knows she’s itching to start sooner and his knack for finding things will be the perfect payment to make his promise stick, Tom, after all, has a knack for losing everything.
It takes Helen only a minute, a very tense minute because Gansey still hasn’t forgotten that someone is still after Ronan, before she says, “Shake on it and you have yourself a deal.”
Gansey doesn’t waste any time grabbing her hand, pumping it once before he’s letting go and pulling Ronan up. Thankfully Ronan quickly gets the message and scrambles up, letting Gansey continue guiding them. They slip into the kitchen and when Gansey spots his parents across the room. He comes to an abrupt stop and then plasters himself against the wall. A pleased smile lights up his face when Ronan follows his lead. With a gentle tug and motion of his head toward an inconspicuous door, the two begin sliding around the room. They’ve just reached the door when a boy only a year or two older enters the kitchen. Gansey can instantly see the resemblance between the dark brown hair and blue eyes and suspects he’s Ronan’s brother. But before he can spot them, Gansey is cracking the service stairway door open, flashing a complete stranger one of his Gansey smiles and slips through the door, hand still in Ronan’s. They climb rapidly on quiet feet and only allow themselves to breathe a sigh of relief when they close the door on the landing.
“Thanks,” Ronan says, slumping against the closed door.
“I know that tone,” Gansey says by way of explanation, smiling at Ronan. “You have an accent.”
“I do.” His confirmation is matched with a humored smile.
“I like it,” Gansey decides. Sure he’s heard accents before but none like Ronan’s. Barely there and different from anything he’s heard before.
“What are we doing up here anyway?” Ronan asks with cheeks dusted a barely there red.
The reminder has Gansey gasping, looking to and fro as his earlier quest is mentioned again. “I’m looking for a photo album. It’s been lost. Would you like to help me?” His tone is hopeful and he’s silently praying that Ronan will agree. There aren’t many children his age that he can interact with at these parties and none of them are ever interested in his hobbies. To his delight, he’s found one that is.
“Sure. Where do we look?”
Gansey purses his lips. “I think, that we should start with that far room.” Gansey points to the mentioned room and Ronan nods, leading the way.
It takes a few misses before they stumbled into another parlor-like room upstairs and find the missing photo album between couch cushions. In that time the two boys swap childhood stories, comparing the way in which they’ve been raised and discovering similarities and differences that don’t matter to each one. Their hands remain firmly clasped as they keep up their searching and even when the photo album is returned and they’ve reunited with their parents, they continue to hold onto one another like the life-line they are unaware they will one-day become for one another.
Weddings were never Hayato’s thing; the expectancy of socially interacting, having to keep the same false smile plastered on his face and having drunk girls asking him for dances he cannot refuse. Unfortunately there was no way of getting out of this one when he was asked to personally attend by an allied family of the Vongola and with Tsuna smiling as he urged Hayato forward like a father about to marry his daughter off into riches.
Thankfully the festivities are dying down and he’s able to slide away from the crowd and out onto a nearby balcony. The night air is crisp and refreshing, the sky is cloudless and an array of stars dazzle in their place. He can still hear the piano playing in the ballroom; the notes, soft and melodic, carried to his ears by the welcomed breeze.
He’s just about to light a cigarette when someone’s voice jolts him out of reverie.
“Thought I’d find you out here!” it chirps, only the disembodied voice doesn’t belong to just anyone. Hayato would recognise that irritatingly cheery sound anywhere at any given time.
“Jesus, Takeshi. You scared the shit out of me,” he chides, slipping the cigarette back into its pack.
“Sorry,” the other laughs as he steps out onto the balcony, fingers sliding against the breadth of Hayato’s shoulders. “Everyone’s leaving. Bartonelli wants to thank us for our attendance.”
“Okay.” He turns so that he can face Takeshi and it’s no surprise that the other is doe-eyed, flushed in the cheeks wearing the fondest smile Hayato’s ever seen. He can remember there was a time when it used to make him sick. Now all it does is make him smile in return. “Unbelievable.”
“What?” asks Takeshi, mouth dropping in question, eyes widening in innocence.
Takeshi laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkle, the scar stretches out over his chin. “Guilty.”
Hayato reaches out in a movement all too familiar, curling his fingers in the fabric of Takeshi’s dress shirt, and pulls him forward. He’s not as violent as he once was, but Takeshi still capitulates just as easy, tipping over on his toes and finding his place right inside Hayato’s personal space. “Good,” he says as he wraps his arms around the other’s neck, stretches his fingers in the soft, ink-black hair. “That means you won’t remember this in the morning.”
“Hm?” Takeshi questions, his arms wrapping naturally around Hayato’s waist like they’ve always meant to be there. “Of course I’ll remem–”
“Dance with me,” Hayato says, shaking his hair out of his face. “You have one last dance in you, don’t you, Mr. Popularity?”
Takeshi’s grin widens and Hayato can still feel it when the other leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Of course. I always save the last dance for you.”
Thank you so much for being my Psycho Pass Secret Santa! I enjoyed your fic so much, it was beautifully well written and the topic you broached was very interesting - I hadn't known this fact about her until now. Thank you so much for all the effort you put into it. Have a Merry Christmas, some wonderful days and a Great New Year!
I am so glad you enjoyed it!!! Thank you so much for the compliment. You be sure to have a good time over the holidays too!
I hope you enjoy it! And that they’re not like… super OOC. First time I’ve written these losers. :’D
College AU
Junpei Tenmyouji, champion pizza eater and master of puns, decided that trudging through a blizzard might not have been one of his better ideas. Granted he should probably have seen this weather coming, but it had been 40 degrees yesterday! How was he supposed to know it would go from that to full-on-Category-5-white-out-shit-storm over night?
He hiked the collar of his vest closer to his neck as he continued his meandering trek across campus. He wished he had his winter coat. Or an arctic parka.
Aoi had better be damn grateful that Junpei hadn’t canceled their plans—but then again, one does not simply not watch Game of Thrones, whether or not winter is actually coming. (Or in Junpei’s case: arrived. With gusto.)
He’d met the Kurashikis, among others, last winter during the worst class he had ever or would ever be forced to take. Junpei wasn’t entirely sure how “Logic and Morphogenesis” had ended up in the course requirements for international business—or for that matter in the requirements for marketing, music, art, forensics, youth psychology, criminal justice, biology, AND computer engineering—but who was he to question the system.
The class had literally-literally, not figuratively-literally, actually almost killed them.
So naturally, those who survived to the end of the semester without dropping (or being hospitalized—Junpei still couldn’t believe that one guy had managed to almost blow himself up, really) became pretty fast friends.
Aoi and Akane shared an apartment on the other side of campus in a building that housed mostly art students. Junpei made his way through the halls to a door emblazoned with “CRASH KEYS” in a violent array of colors.
Akane answered the door at his knock. She was wearing her trademark innocent grin and a purple dress that did excellent things for her hips.
“Jumpy you look like a snowman!”
“Hi Kany. I’ll try to leave most of it out here,” he said with a laugh. He brushed the snow from his hair and entered their apartment.
Aoi sat cross-legged in the middle of the couch, his computer on his lap queuing up the episode. His bleach white hair was covered in paint and he looked like he hadn’t slept properly in a week. “Get in here asshole. You’re like half an hour late.”
Junpei leveled Aoi a stormy stare, and in his best Ned Stark voice—“Finals are coming.”
“Hilarious.”
“Okay but it’s not my fault I’m late. In case you seem to have lost your windows, it’s kind of snowing outside.”
He toed out of his sneakers at the doorway, grimacing at the clumps of snow already melting into the welcome mat.
In the worst stage whisper known to man, Akane explained: “Santa’s not been out of his workshop aaaall weekend. His 2D media portfolio is due on Wednesday and he didn’t start early”—a throw pillow hit Aoi squarely in the face—“like he was supposed to!”
The two of them sat down on the couch on either side of Aoi. He promptly whapped the pillow against the back of Akane’s head and pushed the space bar on his laptop. “I told you! You can’t rush art! Or alternatively, you could spend all semester playing Destiny with a certain ass-hat and then BS your final project and call it art. But my point still stands.”
The Game of Thrones theme filled the apartment, and Junpei glanced around briefly. His eyebrows knit together as he noticed a certain lack of twinkling lights and red. He reached out and paused the show.
“Hey wait a minute,” he said, gesturing around the room and its decided lack of holiday cheer. “It’s like December 17th. Why is the apartment of the self-proclaimed ‘Santa of the Lecture Halls’ not yet decorated, with a nary more than a week left to the big day?”
“Uh… I’ve been working on my project? Did you miss that part? And you say this like your apartment is already decorated.”
“Dude. I never took that shit down last year. My halls have been decked since December 26th.”
“Jumpy, I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of,” Akane leaned forward around her brother to give Junpei a concerned look. “Don’t you ever clean?”
“How did this turn into me having a problem.”
Aoi put his hands over both of their mouths. “It is time for tits, sex, and power struggles. You can criticize the lack of festivities later.”
—-
Later turned out to be Monday morning.
“I should have kicked you out last night.”
“You would have sent me out to die in a blizzard.”
“Yes.”
“I’m appalled. And I thought we truly had something special. Did our near-death experience mean so little to you that you’d send me out to die alone!”
Junpei slapped a hand against his chest as if to hold together his broken heart. Aoi returned the theatrics with an unamused stare.
“Okay, all joking aside, thanks for letting me crash last night, man. “
“You owe me. Like…quadruple owe-age for dragging me along for this.” He continued to glare at Junpei, but grabbed another box of Christmas lights off the shelf. Junpei wasn’t sure that Aoi even realized that he’d tossed them into the cart.
“Yeah, yeah, Santa. I know you’ve got your project to finish. I’ll pay for all of this stuff; does that count to my debt? And you don’t even have to help decorate. Akane said she wanted help me—which I guess is a good thing, since I’m not actually Santa and breaking into other peoples’ residences without the big red suit is kind of frowned upon. She said you’ve pretty much done every other Christmas for her, right?”
Aoi hummed in affirmative. “Every year since our parents died. Did she tell you about the letters? I used to play Santa for her—I’d save up all year to buy her whatever she wrote on her letter to the North Pole. That wasn’t even my favorite part though.”
They’d stopped walking through the glittering aisles of Christmas. Aoi leaned against the shelves, a genuine smile appearing on his tired face. “I used to do up the whole house overnight. We’d go to bed on Christmas Eve, and by morning I’d have all these lights strung up everywhere and our dinky ass little tree smack-dab in the middle of the living room. Seeing her face on Christmas morning when she woke up was even more worth it than making her happy with the present.
“So, yeah, usually I don’t actually decorate that much beforehand. It kinda stuck even after she caught on to me. Eventually it got to the point where we’d put some stuff up, but it’s always been the whole she-bang right before Christmas, you know?”
“That’s actually pretty awesome, Aoi. You’re a rad big brother—I know Akane appreciates everything you do for her.” Junpei threw an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “But hey, you’ve got a final to get done. I’ll finish up here and give Kany a call to see what she wants to do. If we’re going to surprise you with Christmas this year, you can’t really be around for the preparations, can you?”
“I suppose not.”
“You think I’m bluffing. I have my ways. What if I’ve already told Akane to stock the freezer with snowballs to pelt you with if you try to interfere with our plans? Get your project done, and leave the Christmassing to your little elves this year, Mr. Claus.”
—-
“It’s perfect!” Junpei stood back from his handiwork and glanced down at his left wrist. “And done in perfect time, too. What time did you say Aoi’d be home?”
“Umm his final was supposed to be done at 6, so he should be here soon!”
Akane looked around the room. Tweaked a paper snowflake chain into place against the window. Reached down to grab her coat off the couch.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“Dinner with Yotsuba and Hazuki. This is your surprise! I was just here to help!”
“But Christmas surprise?”
“This is finals week surprise though, not Christmas. Christmas is my thing this year, and it’s gotta wait until Christmas Eve. Besides, it was your idea, so you should be the one doing the surprising.”
“—“
“I set out the things for cocoa on the stove. You should probably get cooking if you want it done when Aoi gets here!”
—-
The living room of the Kurashiki apartment was lit only by the glow of Christmas lights strung all around the room. Junpei set two mugs of cocoa on the table just as a key clicked in the lock.
“In your face, Akane! I might not have slept in three days, but I finished and turn that shit in.” He shut the door, his eyes widening as he turned around. He hung up his key and leaned against the door.
“Where did you even get that many text books.”
Junpei flopped onto the couch with a smug look on his face. “So you approve, Santa of the Lecture Halls? I mean it’s not Christmas, technically, but I figured the end of finals merited some decorating.”
With Akane’s help, Junpei had decked the whole apartment, complete with an eight-foot text book tree, complete with lights and ornaments made from leftover homework assignments. They’d also hung lights around the whole living room, and had spent hours cutting paper snowflakes which now adorned every window and door frame.
Aoi laughed. “This is pretty great. Damn, you even made Kany’s cocoa? Okay, yes, I approve.” He tossed his backpack into his bedroom doorway and then settled onto the couch next to Junpei, grabbing a mug as he sat.
He leaned against Junpei’s shoulder. “I’m so glad finals are over, man. Stress about damn killed me this semester, I swear.”
Taking a sip of the cocoa, he let his head flop back against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “Wow. Don’t tell Akane, but this might actually be better than her’s. Ugh, I might just fall asleep right here.”
“Maybe wash the paint out of your hair first.”
Aoi cracked an eye open to look at his bangs. Junpei watched Aoi’s eyes refocus from strands of white to the tuft of green taped to the ceiling and his eyebrow hike in confusion.
Junpei felt his face heat up, knowing that his cheeks were just as red as Aoi’s had become. “Kany’s idea… I told her it was stupid. She told me it was festive and hit me with a book. I’ll pretend I didn’t see it if you wa—”
The mug of cocoa was taken from Junpei’s hands; Aoi set both on the coffee table.
“It is festive.”
Aoi pressed his lips to Junpei’s. He smelled like snow, paint thinner, and peppermint. Blue eyes met brown, and Junpei felt Aoi smile.
Junpei was prepared for the next kiss. He wasn’t prepared for Aoi’s hand, still cold from being outside, to thread into his hair, thumb brushing over his ear.
Prompt: After Junpei tells Aoi “It’s kind of weird to get a gift from another guy, don’t you think?” Aoi thinks back to Light giving out the clovers in the first place like oh man das gay
Message: I wish you a very, very happy Christmas! I hope you will have splendid holidays and maybe find some enjoyment in my present for you! It was my first piece of 999 fanfic and I hope I did the characters justice and that this is halfway what you imagined when giving the prompt.
Merry Christmas!
"For me?" Junpei asked, puzzled, and Aoi was entirely willing to attribute the pinkish tint on his cheek to the outside cold that hadn’t quite left their bodies at that point. It had barely been two or three minutes since they had come back into Junpei’s flat and Aoi’s boyfriend - boyfriend, Aoi thought and it was so new and so alien - hadn’t even had the chance to undress entirely as he was handed a neatly wrapped present. The scarf, loosely draped around his neck, was soon forgotten as his curiosity was drawn entirely by the box which still lingered in Aoi’s hands, pale finger clutched lightly around the sensitive packaging, daring to scratch it.
"…of course." Aoi replied, nervousness subsiding for a moment in favour of being stumped by Junpei’s genuine disbelief. "It’s Christmas after all…"
Actually, Aoi had no reason at all to be fearing whether he had gotten the wrong thing. It was a bracelet Junpei had been roving around for several months now, tried on more times than Aoi could recall and attempted, to no avail, to rack up the cash for it several times.
It’s not like it was worth a fortune. Junpei just wasn’t all that good at saving up. Or Aoi was just better it, taught by years of being Akane’s personal ‘Santa’.
Finally Junpei reached out and, with curious fingers, took the present from Aoi’s fingers before flopping down on the couch.
"Wow…" he mumbled, a little more sober and more thoughtful than Aoi had ever seen the goofball. "I’m just… surprised. It’s kind of weird to get a gift from another guy, don’t you think?"
A little surprised, Aoi sat down on the armchair across from the couch. Was it really? He hadn’t really taken gender into consideration when he planned the present. He knew that he had always tried his hardest to find the perfect present for Akane, for years and years and this year had not been an exception. She had always been the so terribly important to him. And now Junpei was aswell, just in a different way.
Gender really didn’t have anything to do with it, the thought hadn’t even come to Aoi. He just wanted to make these two important people in his life happy. Wanted to be ‘Santa’ again.
It sincerely struck Aoi as odd, that Junpei had said this, like he had never received a present from a guy before.
Aoi clearly recalls that he had been given a present from a boy already.
It hadn’t been wrapped in giftpaper or carried a big pricetag.
It was a small, four leaf clover, handed to him by the pale fingers of a blind boy. Light.
Back then the gesture had been so important, the situation so hopeless that Aoi had never even thought about how, yes, it might have been weird.
He felt peculiar that the thought only came to him today, though. He had thought about this day so much, many more times than could be healthy but from all things that happened, this one, the moment in which Light had handed them the Clovers… had seemed the least worrisome, the most normal.
He was pulled from his reverie by a gleeful yell from across the table. Junpei had finally opened his present and held the bracelet he had wanted so badly in hand.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Aoi!" he grinned broadly, cheerful. It was good to see him smile like that. He didn’t all that often. Not that genuine and happy. Aoi sometimes wondered what he had been like before the Nonary Game. Akane had said he had been the happiest boy she’d ever seen. Right now, it seemed like Aoi finally got a glimpse of what she had referred to. Not the fake smile and the overdone puns that always seemed to mask something.
This was true happiness, a genuine smile. Excitement and surprise and real, real emotions.
Excitedly, Junpei jumped up from the couch and crossed the way to Aoi in few, quick strides. He leaned down, brown hair tousled in the exact way that Aoi secretly found so endearing and erased all remaining distance quickly.
Junpei kissed him and, with a voice that brought a blush to Aoi’s cheeks that was certainly not caused by the cold, whispered “Thanks a lot, Santa~”
2.) Answer the questions that the person who tagged you asked and write 11 new ones.
3.) Tag 11 people and link them to this post.
4.) Actually tell them you’ve tagged them.
______________________
So I got tagged by heirofsilence again and I felt like doing this ... I have just a knack for this kind of meme.
Here are the questions I got asked:
1. What is your favourite Ice Cream Flavour?
Mint chocolate chip
2. Which fandom do you keep falling back into?
Harry Potter ... I fell so hard again recently ..... can't get back out of this :')
3. Is there a Character you identify strongly with? If so which one? Why?
Uhm .... probably someone clumsy and pretty stupid, but I don't know any character like that right now
4. Who is your favourite fanartist / fanfiction author?
LoadedGunn and Zarah5 on Ao3 ... they are writing some of the best 1D Fics I have read. Also firethesound writes very good HP fics.
5. What are your favourite sweets / snack?
saltsticks and Cadbury chocolate °___°
6. Name 5 of your OTPs
- Larry Stylinson (Harry/Louis) from 1D
- Drarry ( Harry / Draco ) from Harry Potter
- Malec ( Magnus / Alec ) from The Mortal Instruments
- Booth / Brennan from Bones
- Tomlinshaw (Nick Grimshaw / Louis Tomlinson)
7. And now NOTPs, if you have any.
I don't I really have one but if it counts ... Elounor.
8. Do you have an OT3 you like? Which one?
Harry Styles / Louis Tomlinson / Nick Grimshaw
aaaaaaaaaaand as weird as it sounds
Harry Styles / Caroline Flack / Nick Grimshaw
9. Do you have any merchandise of your favourite fandoms? LIst some if so!
I have some Pokemon figures (Lugia & Arceus, as well as some others). I also have a dozen Pokemon plush toys. That is probably the only merchandise I have.
10. Are you in an unpopular fandom / ship an unpopular ship that has you you struggling to find likeminded people or artwork/fics?
Yeeeeeeeeeeees. Tomlinshaw is pretty rare. I also ship some characters of Guardians of the Galaxy and due to it being relatively new I don't mind many arts/fics for it .
11. What is something you are anticipating right now?
Right now .. uhm ... probably the birthday celebration of a close friend and the weekend trip.
On a large scale I am looking forward to my life goal <3
Uhm ... because I am pretty tired and not at all creative, I don't have questions and won't tag people. Sorry.
