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unmaskedagain · 5 years

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Marinette Vs Santa: The Rematch

Seven people requested a continuation of the Part 1 and I just gave in. I hope you like. I’m not big on writing sequels. So please let me know if its good.

When the news broke that billionaire Bruce Wayne’s daughter Marinette was dating the Roy, the son of billionaire Oliver Queen, it was like the world paused.

It was bigger than Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.

Bigger than the royal wedding; both of them.

Bigger than the twilight love affair.

The Angel Marinette, the newfound princess of Gotham, dating the wayward Bad boy Roy, the prince of Star City.

Roy was handsome, really smart, funny, had a kickass attitude, played guitar and soccer, and loved animals; at least that’s what Jason told her Because Marinette had never met the guy.

People were betting on when they’d get married, have kids, what they’d name them…

And Marinette doesn’t even know the guy. I never had a single conversation with him.

Now Jason wanted her to… What?

“Come on!” Jason begged. “Just let him take you to the ball.”

Marinette sat at her desk, with arms cross, glaring furiously at her brother, as she contemplated murder. “No.”

Jason tossed his hands up in the air, “He’s really great. You’d like him.”

“I don’t care if reveals he’s actually Tom Holland ala Hannah Montana style,” Marinette growled. “No.”

“He’s in a bind,” Jason pleaded with his sister, giving her the biggest puppy dog eyes, he could muster. “His dad’s been giving him a lot of grief lately about him going to college and taking over the company one day and the bad press he’s been getting. Once Roy said he was taking Wayne’s princess to the ball, it stopped.”

“Why did he even say it?” Marinette yelled.

“He’s a moron!” Jason yelled back. “But he’s my best friend. He’s rich. He’s handsome. He comes from a great family. He’s strong. Gotta nice bad boy thing going on. A motorcycle. Sorta mysterious. How could you not want to date him?”

Marinette chuckled, “Maybe because I’m starting to think you might be.” She eyed him. “If this you two using me as a beard or whatever, cool. But Bruce Wayne and Oliver queen both been seen with Male lovers, I don’t think they’d mind…”

Jason glared at her, “I’m not dating Roy. Redheaded dudes are a little creepy.”

“Are they now?” Yeah, Marinette thought, really selling.

Jason pinched his nose, “Didn’t you ever wanna be Cinderella? Go to the ball with the Prince? Roy is that prince. The only one above him would be an actual prince. I thought all little girls did? Can you do it, please? For me?”

That’s when Marinette remembered the first time she saw Disney’s Cinderella. She had been six. It was Christmas. She had fallen instantly in love with the movie, the dress, the songs, the prince so much so that she talked about being Cinderella to her parents. Her dad just laughed and told her to write Santa. Ask him to make you Cinderella.

And so six-year-old Marinette did.

And now nearly ten years later, staring at her brother, she now knew… Santa had a hit list. It was the only explanation. Santa was gunning for her. Seeing what it took to break her. Finally, get her on the naughty list. Be careful what you wish for after all.

“I want to meet him,” Marinette said slowly with a defeated sigh.

“Yes!” Jason cheered. “I know the Cinderella thing would work.”

Marinette glared, “You know I know at actual prince right? Prince Ali.”

“No! Wait! We can talk about this!”

“Kidding.”

“Thank god,” Jason sighed in relief. “Oh, you can’t tell Bruce its fake.”

Marinette closed her, counted to ten, and stopped herself from screaming the only thing on her mind: FUCK SANTA.

The Tsurugi house had been tense since Kagami returned from school. Her grandparents had expressed their approval of her befriend Wayne’s youngest daughter. Kagami’s mother had been pleased that they would be receiving an invitation to the Wayne New Year’s ball.

They had been waiting all day for the invite to come. Both mother and daughter anxiously doing all they could to avoid waiting by the door.

When the doorbell rang, Kagami had to force herself not to run for it.

Discipline, she thought, control.

Her mother’s assistant announced, “Miss Wayne is here, Lady Kagami.”

Yes, she was. Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Wayne curtsied gracefully, “Mrs. Tsurugi. Kagami. I hope you are well this evening.”

Light, polite, took place after that. Her mother almost smiled in approval at Marinette.

When Marinette finally handed the invitation over, “I do hope you can attend,” She said. “I apologize for the short notice.”

Mrs. Tsurugi bowed. “It would be an honor to attend.”

“We look forward to it,” Kagami added.

“I… admit I have always wanted to go the Wayne’s Ball,” The older woman admitted the barest hint of a smile on her face. “One thing off my Christmas list, I suppose.”

At this, Marinette beamed, a vindictive pleasure coursed through. Yes, she wanted to his, Kiss my ass, Santa.

Going to Chloe’s was… interesting for Marinette. She hadn’ t even had the chance to knock on the penthouse door before Chloe had ripped it opened.

“Mama,” She called. “Marinette’s here.”

That was all the signal needed, for Audrey Bourguis to throw opened both doors of her office, “Ahh Marinette. How lovely to see you, darling.”

If Marinette had been a little meaner, she would have admitted that the scene was felt oddly similar to what it was like to see the stepsisters in Cinderella get the invitations to the ball. Chloe had been her bully, and she hadn’t changed all that much.

“Thank you for having me,” Marinette said easily. She presented the invitation. “I hope you can go,” She told Chloe and her mother honestly. “I could use more friends there.”

Chloe’s eyes softened despite the look of the annoyance on her face, “Of course we’re going.”

“Agreed,” Audrey said. “Everyone who is anyone is going. And we are most definitely anyone. The question is what are we wearing? Classic ball gown. Or a modern princess. What are you wearing? Everyone wants to know.”

“Roy Queen on her arm,” Chloe giggled.

Audrey smiled, her first real smile of the day, “Now that is quite the handsome accessory, bravo.”

They discussed fashion choices and who is supposed to be wearing who. All while Marinette dodged every attempt from Audrey to design her dress for the ball. And the older woman had been determined.

It was a harrowing experience. If Chloe hadn’t been her new best friend, Marinette would’ve given in to the desire to rip back the invite and tear it shreds.

As she was living, Audrey said, “I was always dreamed about it; the Wayne New Years’ ball,” It was said with a lovingness and dreamy voice that neither Chloe or Marinette had ever heard her use before. “When I was a little girl, I would watch every year and just dream about it. I envied and critiqued over dresses. When I was really little, I used to ask Santa to go every year. I’d even design my own dress; every year. Its why I got into fashion. I was a little girl who dreamed about her own ball gown.”

Marinette would leave the penthouse, walk outside where her driver waited, and before she got into the car, she stared at the Christmas decorations. At the robotic Santa waving, and whisper lowly, “We’ll call this a tie.”

But the fight wasn’t over.

Luka had no idea what to do with the invitation. Neither did his mother. Sure, they had heard about the Wayne ball but Juleka had Rose whispering in her ear so she made sure that her brother accepted.

“This is a favor to me,” Marinette pleaded. “Father will pay for the trip, for the expenses. Luka is my friend, and I would like him there. With you all of course.”

Juleka begged her mother, “Please! Rose said this a once in a lifetime experience.”

Luka eyed his sister but shrugged, “I’m in. What are friends for? He is your brother Tim single?”

What did you just say to me, punk? Marinette nearly snapped. She knew, of course, that Luka always had a celebrity crush on Tim Drake-Wayne. He even put jokingly put a kiss under the mistletoe with Tim Drake on his shopping list. But it was different now that Tim was her brother. Marinette needed her friends on her side; her family was insane. And she swore if Luka spent the entire Ball mooning over Tim, she was going to fly to the North Pole and shove her foot right up Santa’s…

“I won’t know anyone,” Anarka finally said interrupting Marinette’s thought. “It’ll be all boring people listening to classical music.”

“Oh!” Marinette straightened up. “Jagged Stone will be there,” She said brightly.

The glare she got from Luka’s mother could’ve been weaponized.

Marinette left their house feeling a bit shook.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” She heard and saw Santa impersonator walking on the street.

Marinette’s eyes narrowed. A less person would’ve just taken him out, she knew. But Paparazzi was everywhere, and for once that was the only thing stopping her. Not being nice or polite.

No, Marinette raged inwardly, that time was over.

Instead, she shot him a glare, “Score one for you.”

The next day at school was even worse than the day before… Paparazzi wise.

“Marinette! Marinetti,” A lady from seventeen magazines yelled. “What was your first date like with Roy? Was it Romanic? Did you kiss him? Is he a good kisser?”

Marinette ignored them all as her father walked her into school again; this time with Tim and Cassandra.

“Bruce! What do you think of your daughter dating someone two years older than her?” Bruce stiffened.

“How long have you been dating the Queen heir?”

“Have you had sex yet?”

“What is he wearing the ball?”

The questions went on and on.

Marinette got to class and all but collapsed in her seat with a huff. This was too much. Her papa had assured her it would calm down soon.

“It will get better,” Kagami assured.

Chloe patted her back comfortingly, “Paparazzi are so invasive.”

Alix snorted, “What do you know about it.”

“Her mother is Style Queen,” Marinette answered before Chloe could. “One of the leading faces in fashion today; she can make or break a designer; start trends and end them. Everyone knows her name. Her face. She is the Devil’s Wears Prada: Miranda Presley of our world. Chloe was born with paparazzi wanting to know if her diaper was designer.”

Her classmates were shocked at her defense of the blonde.

“And for the record,” Chloe said sounding pleased. “They were.”

“What’s it like dating Roy Queen,” Rose asked excitedly, ignoring the tenseness of the room like she was always doing. “He’s so dreamy. Did you know I have him on my bedroom wall?”

Yes, Marinette did know. She helped decorate.

“Like a dream come true,” Marinette said with a forced smile.

Because like the most dreams, some crazy person made it up, She thought. Jason. Jason made it up.

“Do you think you’ll get married,” Mylene asked giving heart eyes to Ivan who blushed.

Marinette was about to answer when she noticed Alya’s phone was out, and she looked way to interested what Marinette was saying.

“I didn’t give permission for an interview,” She said. “Or for permission to have my conversation recorded as is required by law.”

“You never minded before,” Alya pointed out. “This could be huge for my blog.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, “No one knew I was a Wayne before. I have to be careful now.”

“Someone who knows you should give an inside scoop,” The glasses-wearing girl said. “Let people know what you’re really like, what you’re really thinking. We can do an interview right now!”

“Class is about to start,” Chloe sneered.

Kagami glared, “Delete it or hear from our lawyers.”

Adrien stood up, “Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh.” Some of the other students nodded. “She doesn’t mean it harm.”

“I don’t care what she meant,” Marinette snapped. “I will not have private conversations on display for the world to hear. It's an invasion.” She told him and looked back at her once best friend. “Delete the recording from your phone.”

Alya crossed her arms, a petulant look appeared on her face, “I already posted it on my blog,” She said smugly. “Too late now.”

“Delete it,” Kagami and Chloe chimed together.

Alya stood her ground and sent them a look similar to what Rena Rouge sent Akumas, “No! It’s my private property,” She snapped, and she sent a smirk at Marinette. “You can’t make me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Marinette asked. “It’s your last chance.”

“This is my blog,” Alya said.

“Then prepare to see it burn.”

All Marinette wanted for Christmas last year was for Chat Noir to leave her alone and for Alya to wake up, stop listening to Lila and reporting false news about Ladybug.

Before the bell rang for lunch, Alya’s screech could be heard for miles. The Ladyblog was gone. Her mom had deleted it. Well not deleted the website but deleted everything on it. It had been an accident. Alya’s mom had been desperate to delete the interview of Marinette as quickly as possible. After realized what she had done, she quickly went to school to talk with her daughter.

“Why?” Alya had demanded in tears.

“Why?” Her mother shouted back. “Do you even know what you’ve done? What could happen to you? To your family?”

Her parents were furious. They had gotten a cease and desist Bruce Wayne’s lawyers, a notice that the Ladyblog was being sued for invasion privacy. Officer Raincomprix had shown up to let the know Alya was being hit with criminal charges; it was illegal to record a private conversation without permission for public use; even more so if it involved a minor.

Four hours. It took four hours for the Ladyblog to go up in flames.

The akuma had not been pleasant to deal with. But surprisingly, it wasn’t Alya. It was her mother; scared to death that her daughter had pissed off one of the richest family’s in the world and might have destroyed her own.

Alya left school early that day, and wouldn’t come back for the rest of the week.

Marinette counted that a win in the “Fuck Santa” Category. She could get her own freaking Christmas presents.

Marinette had been sitting with Kagami and Chloe, enjoying lunch in the cafeteria when suddenly all the noise stopped. A needle dropping would be heard.

“Babe,” A voice shouted.

Every hair on Marinette’ s body froze. What were the chances that an overly loud voice that sounded so familiar, so like how Roy Queen sounded in every video she ever saw of him, wasn’t actually Roy Queen?

No. It couldn’t be, she thought, Not even Santa’s that cruel.

She glanced behind her and tried not to groan. It was Roy Queen alright. Red hair, handsome face, smug ‘kick me in the teeth’ smile. He was gorgeous. The exact type she’d been into. He had a bouquet of red roses and what looked to be expensive chocolates.

That was when suddenly she remembered how much she wished for the same scenario. For her boyfriend, imaginary at the time, to surprise during school just because. When she was eleven, it was a Christmas wish on a star. (all her friends had boyfriends at the time; even if they only last two weeks at most.)

Another point for Jolly Saint Nick, she thought glumly.

An arm went around her shoulder, “Miss Me,” Roy smirked as he pulled her into a hug.

Marinette hugged him back tightly, a pleasant grin on her face, masking her true feelings, “I’m going to kill you,” She whispered. She kissed him softly on the cheek. “And I’m not even going to make it look like an accident.”

She wasn’t entirely sure if she was talking to him or Santa Clause; maybe both.

The smile was on Roy’s face as he pulled away, “You are definitely Jason’s sister.” He looked her up and down. “So… want to ditch school?”

Marinette sighed, “Fuck Santa.”

She didn’t care who heard now.

Marinette did not skip school. Roy did pick her up from school, on a motorcycle. The pictures were being recycled on the news.

All three of her parents were furious. Marinette had barely managed to get out of being grounded.

Santa would not beat her. She would not end up on the fat guy’s naughty list. Unless the reason was that she was standing over his cold, dead corpse.

“Okay,” Marinette said as she paced her bedroom. “I’m losing it.”

“You’re fine,” Tikki promised. “This time year gets to everyone. It will get better.”

“He’s persecuting me,” The bluenette.

Tikki sighed at her chosen’s antics, “Santa is not after you.”

Suddenly, there was a loud crash. Her bedroom door swung open, Tim rushed in looking a mess and beyond frazzled, “Tell me you can sing?” He shouted. “Doesn’t matter. I told everyone that you’re singing at the ball. It’s gonna be great.” And then he ran from the room.

It went silent.

“Coward!” She yelled after him

Marinette recalled her desire, her wish to finally overcome her shyness, her stage fright. She recalled the time fainted during a choir rehearsal for the Christmas pageant. She had been eight-years-old and vowed to never sing publicly.

“…Maybe Santa is out to get you,” Tikki said bluntly who knew all about Marinette’s fear of singing.

Tim suddenly ran back in the room, “You’re having dinner with Roy and his parents tomorrow.” He said. “And Dad wants you to meet the Justice League. Have fun.” And he was gone.

“Fuck. Santa!” She screamed.

#ml salt #ml fic #alya salt #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #batfamily #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #roy harper #class salt

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sserpente · 5 years

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24 little kinks | Door 1 🎄

“You remember that chocolate advent calendar I got you for December?”

“I do,” he chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “You made me display it in the kitchen so I would not eat it all at once.”

Your smile widened. “How about we get another one?”

Loki raised an eyebrow, only now paying proper attention to the sex toy ad. Then, he frowned. It was an odd mixture of disgust, genuine curiosity and even a hint of arousal flashing in his blue eyes.

A/N: It’s that wonderful time of the year again! Oh, I’m looking forward to mulled wine, biscuits, Christmas songs and decorations... I received all of your requests and my lovelies, I think you’ll be in for a treat. Here’s to the first “door” of my Christmas special. Enjoy, everyone! ♥

“Loki?”

You were leaning against him on the sofa, in midst of your dimly lit living room. A blanket was draped over the both of you, keeping you from freezing. Winter had knocked on the doors sooner than you would have liked, still, when you looked out of the window and lost yourself in the countless white snowflakes fluttering to the ground, you felt yourself slipping into a cheerful Christmas mood.

It was the first time you would be spending the holidays not only with a boyfriend but also none other than Loki himself. Up to this day, after so many months of spending time together, saving each other’s life on missions and giving up sleep night after night to talk for hours on end, you wondered just what you had done to catch the God of Mischief’s attention—how he, out of all people within the nine realms, had fallen for a young mortal woman such as yourself.

You smiled at remembering how gauche and downright timid he had acted around you as soon as he had realised he was developing romantic feelings for you. Loki had been torn between his dominance and superiority and gentle and respectful courting. And while you had been wondering how a powerful and intelligent god such as him could possibly take an interest in you, he had been worried you would reject him because of his past actions in New York.

Here you were now, cuddling on the sofa and watching Christmas films together. There were a lot of things you wanted to introduce the Norse God to. From taking him sledding and ice skating (both at which he was exceptionally good and skilful) all the way to baking biscuits and mince pies and the infamous mistletoe, your heart warmed at the thought of taking his mind off things.

The Avengers had accepted him as part of the team solely because they had not wished to draw Thor’s wrath upon them but even the God of Thunder did not treat Loki like the brother he should. Too many things had changed and Loki was lonely, haunted by his own demons and ghosts of the past.

You were lucky, beyond lucky to have been blessed with this wonderful man. Loki was so much more than he let on. It had taken him months to open up to you but when he did, you got to see his vulnerable heart. He was good. Loki was good, deeply misunderstood and alone. Christmas was the perfect time to show him you were with him and that all hell would have to break loose to separate you two.

The bright light of a Christmassy ad interrupting the film reflected on your faces, making Loki even paler than he normally was. It was an ad for an advent calendar. You had explained to him the concept and even bought him a chocolate calendar all to himself. Loki was confused at first he couldn’t simply open all of the little doors at once but then begun to like the idea.

Only the advent calendar in the ad was a little different; very different, in fact. The mischievous smile spreading on your lips spoke volumes. This advent calendar… contained sex toys—one for each day all the way until Christmas. It was expensive. Two hundred dollars would make your wallet cry but if you simply considered it an early Christmas present for the both of you, surely it could live with that.

Eventually, Loki hummed in response. He had grown so fond of those Christmas movies with a happy ending guarantee the ads made him a little grumpy. He usually never paid any attention to them but you would make sure that today he would.

“You remember that chocolate advent calendar I got you for December?”

“I do,” he chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “You made me display it in the kitchen so I would not eat it all at once.”

Your smile widened. “How about we get another one?”

Loki raised an eyebrow, only now paying proper attention to the sex toy ad. Then, he frowned. It was an odd mixture of disgust, genuine curiosity and even a hint of arousal flashing in his blue eyes.

“I hardly need… toys to satisfy your needs, neither do you need any to satisfy mine. You are not… unchallenged when we are in bed together, are you, sweet one? Because I can ensure you, I can change that in a heartbeat…” His cool lips brushed against your neck, leaving behind a trail of goose bumps on your sensitive skin.

“No… of course not… but experimenting with sex toys can be a lot of fun?”

You almost giggled to yourself despite your growing excitement. You had never actually taken Loki to a sex shop. That should be really interesting; and besides, you had been imagining him tying you up and blindfolding you countless times already. The God of Mischief made no secret out of his dominance, hunger and godly stamina in bed and he had not just once forced you into so many orgasms you had nearly passed out from all the breath-taking pleasure. So why not take it up a notch?

“You intend to buy an advent calendar full of… sex toys for us?” He repeated with raised eyebrows. You could tell he was beginning to like the idea—and what he could do to you, how he could tease you with all the things in this… naughty advent calendar.

You could practically feel him slowly changing his mind, arousal radiating off of him and making you squirm a little in joyful anticipation.

Finally, he sighed, an amused but cheeky smirk playing on his lips. “Very well. Where do we acquire this calendar?”

Loki's expression was unreadable when you entered the sex shop. From the outside, it looked like a regular store. No toy advertising or obscene pictures whatsoever. When you stepped inside, however, the both of you were greeted by an almost naked harlequin wearing a leather harness and crotchless black panties. The smallest of frowns formed on his forehead, yet you did not fail to notice how his blue eyes widened a little upon seeing the naughty excuse for underwear. You knew without asking he was imagining you wearing those pieces of fabric instead of the lifeless doll before you.

“So? Where do we get the calendar?”

“They should be close by, I'll ask a clerk. You can have a look around in the meantime, if you like. Perhaps you'll find something you like.” You winked at him, excitement flooding your veins. Those were going to be twenty-four really interesting days. You honestly couldn't wait.

“Excuse me...” Loki sighed when you turned away from him, instead directing his attention to the shelf before him. He found the same kind of underwear the harlequin was wearing, along with other naughty lingerie in various colours and accessories... a package titled “nipple stickers” among them. Tilting his head intrigued, he reached for them. They were round and green, glittering, and he quickly figured out what they were for. He grinned to himself, then at you once you returned to him.

“Your grin looks promising. What have you... oh. Oh, I like those. Should we get them?”

“I might be on the verge of changing my mind about this advent calendar idea of yours.” He grabbed another package--two green pairs of crotchless panties.

“I expect you to wear those for me on Christmas Eve.”

“Do you now?” You bit your lower lip. You knew very well about the impact you made on Loki’s loins and you loved teasing him until he pounced on you like a predator. Still, most of the time, Loki was in charge. You trusted him unconditionally—and you believed that turned him on more than anything else. Besides, your trust was always rewarded—with countless orgasms and so much pleasure you had forgotten your own name before, Loki’s on your lips as you came again and again and again...

Loki glanced down at you with both amusement and lust sparkling in his blue eyes, making you blink. He knew where your thoughts had trailed off to.

“T-the calendars are over there.” Swallowing thickly, you led him there, knowing that if you weren’t out in public, he would have ripped your clothes off of your body already.

“That is a lot of money, is it not?” He said when you picked one up. It was rather heavy, about have as big as you.

“I have got the feeling it's gonna be worth it.”

Once again, Loki tilted his head, his gaze focusing on the shelf above the calendars. He frowned yet again.

“What is a... cock ring?”

You giggled to yourself. He'd find out soon enough for sure.

The 1st of December couldn’t come fast enough. Your purchases lay hidden in a plain black plastic bag behind the door and they remained there until you had decorated your flat for the festive season. On Saturday night, you finally unpacked it, the mere thought of it already wetting your knickers. You displayed it on the desk, grateful for the fact you were no longer living in the compound with the other Avengers who could accidentally bump into your room unannounced and thus spotting your naughty purchase. It wasn’t a secret you were dating Loki after all. They weren’t exactly fond of it but you couldn’t care less. Loki was amazing.

The God of Mischief was up before you on Sunday morning. He woke you with chaste kisses all over your face, making you giggle when your eyes fluttered open to lock with his. He could be so gentle and vulnerable and sweet all at the same time your heart regularly skipped a beat in the mornings.

“Good morning, my sweet…” His sleepy, velvety and a little rough voice sent pleasant shivers up and down your spine… and tingles right between your legs. His tone was suggestive. He could barely wait but neither could you. You had not read which toys the calendar contained. All you knew was that it was intended for sexy times for couples.

You giggled at him, burying your face in your pillow. “Go on then, open the first door.” He heaved himself out of bed all the while you tried your best to wake up properly before he returned with the first box. There were twenty-four in total, some of them a lot bigger than others. You couldn’t wait to find out what was inside all of them.

“Admit it. You’re about as excited about this as me.”

“I admit it,” he said with a mischievous wink. “I am.” And with that, he gently opened the box in his hands. It was rather small but the content did not disappoint. It was condoms. Three condoms wrapped in festive red paper with green stripes. The black letters on it read Gingerbread. Those were gingerbread flavoured condoms. A wicked grin spread on your lips. It was time for breakfast anyway.

“What are those?” Loki asked with genuine interest, wondering what naughty things you could do with them as he returned to you and laid back down.

“You remember when I told you about how we prevent pregnancy here on Earth?”

“Condoms and pills, mainly.” He concluded. You nodded.

“Those aren’t normal condoms though…” One of your hands wandered under the covers, reaching for Loki’s already semi-hard cock and giving it a few teasing strokes, eliciting a stifled moan from him. “They’re gingerbread flavoured.”

He smirked when realisation hit him. “You mean to ravish me for breakfast then, I presume? Oh, I do like the idea of opening one of these… naughty boxes every day now.”

Hungrily, you ripped one of the festively packaged condoms open with your teeth. The smell wasn’t the most enticing, the taste, however, indeed promising.

And even though Loki was a little suspicious of you rolling a thin piece of latex over his erect member, he quickly grew fond of the idea as he watched you freeing him from his trousers as if you were slowly unwrapping a present and then made him lean back to ‘enjoy the show’. You would show him now spending more than two-hundred dollars on an advent calendar was paying off—it was paying off in this very moment.

The God of Mischief hissed when your fingertips came in contact with his hard length. You licked your lips in joyful anticipation, ready to devour and pamper him. Taking your time, you wrapped your lips around his tip, your tongue darting out to taste his slit. Instantly, the flavour of gingerbread sent your taste buds to heaven. It felt like digging into a particularly delicious meal.

Inch by inch, you slid him into your mouth, taking as much as you could without gagging and causing Loki to throw his head back in pure bliss. He soon grabbed a fistful of your hair to control your movements along with your own hungry licking, your innocent eyes meeting his in such a depraved manner he gnashed his teeth not to spurt his cum into that questionable condom instantly.

Moaning with relish and by that, teasing him with gentle vibrations, you suckled on the tip and circled him slowly. You could tell he was getting close. Again and again, Loki would buck his hips up to thrust into your mouth, deeper each time until he started guiding your head to get to the pace he wanted. His breathing quickened—he came undone the moment your eyes met again, your pupils wide from arousal and desire.

Twitching and jerking inside your mouth, he released himself into the gingerbread flavoured condom with an animalistic groan, his fingers buried in your hair. Surely, his seed would taste even better than your first advent calendar surprise… but with Loki, there was always an encore anyway.

Panting a little, you pulled away from him, removing the condom before he softened and tossing it out of bed carelessly. There would be enough time to clean up later. Then, you crawled back up to him, practically lying down on his chest and sighing when he wrapped an arm around your naked waist. For a few peaceful seconds, you simply listened to each other’s heartbeat, bathing in the afterglow.

“Don’t forget to open your chocolate advent calendar too.” You mused after a while, your voice all high-pitched because his hand sneaked between your legs in just that moment.

Loki smirked. “Oh, I will not. But I believe at first, it is your turn. You are positively dripping for me, my sweet (Y/N).”

A/N: Door 2 will be opened tomorrow, on December 2nd!

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years

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Christmas survey.

1. If you were one of Santa’s elves, which type(s) of toy(s) do you think you would you most enjoy making, and why? Hmm. Probably the Barbies. I was obsessed as a kid. I’d love to see what dolls are out and all the new accessories. I’m sure a lot has changed since I was a kid.

2. List at least one thing you’ve done this year that could get you onto the “nice list” and at least one thing that you’ve done that could get you onto the “naughty list”. It’s bad I can’t think of anything I’ve done to be on the nice list. I’d be on the bad list. I’m moody and irritable and snippy and I feel like such a grump. I’ve also been closed off and distant from people who have tried to reach out to me and be nice still even though I absolutely don’t deserve it.

3. Are you able to successfully name all of Santa’s reindeer? Which one of them is your favorite and why? I can. Gotta love Rudolph, I mean c’mon.

4. Do/Did you leave out milk and cookies for Santa as a kid, or something different? Do/Did you leave out anything for his reindeer as well? What was it? Aww, yeah I did. I always got so excited the next morning seeing that “Santa” ate some of the cookies and drank the milk.

5. What are some things that are on your holiday wish list this year? Do you find yourself wanting some of the same things as when you were younger, or are you getting excited about some of the more practical gifts now? Haha I do get excited about the more practical gifts now. I have some of that kind of stuff on my list. As for the fun stuff, I asked for a lot of Baby Yoda (Grogu) stuff cause Hot Topic and Boxlunch have the cutest stuff. My big item on the list are the Power Beats, which are like Airpods but better in my opinion. I like that they have the thing that wraps around your ear. I have the wireless ones in that they connect via bluetooth, but they do still have the wire connecting them. I want completely wireless.

6. How is Christmas this year going to differ for you as opposed to the past few years? Honestly, the holidays haven’t changed for my family and I. It’s just been us (my parents, brother, and I) for the past several years now, we haven’t had a big family holiday get together in a long time.

7. Did you used to write a letter to Santa Claus when you were younger? Did you mail it to the North Pole, or just leave it on the table next to his snacks? Did he ever happen to write back to you? I think I’ve done both, but mostly mailed it. I did get a letter back sometimes or phone call even (one of my uncles used to call and pretend to be Santa).

8. At what age did you stop believing in Santa? Did you have to be told? If not, how did you eventually come to figure it out? I think I was like 8. I just remember seeing presents from “Santa” out already beforehand. haha.

9. Do you or your family hang up mistletoe in the house as one of your decorations? When guests stand under it, are they encouraged to kiss? No, we’ve never done that.

10. Do you have a Christmas tree? Is it a real tree or a fake tree? Is it the typical evergreen shade or another color? How big or small is it? Where is it usually placed? Do you have more than one tree? We get the real deal, which I love. We like to get big, tall ones. It always goes next to the end of the couch on one side. We only have room for one tree. I mean, I have a mini fake one in my room if that counts. If we had the space, like if we had a family room and a living room, I’d definitely get more than one tree.

11. How do you or your family decorate the Christmas tree? What sorts of decorations go on it? (ie: tinsel, garland, lights, ornaments, candy canes, popcorn strings, etc) Are there any decorations that go under the Christmas tree as well? (ie: a tree skirt, fake snow, a Christmas train set, etc) We do lights, ornaments, and candy canes. We used to do tinsel, but not the past few years. In fact, I think it wasn’t being sold anymore for a bit and then it kind of quietly came back. While it looks pretty, it makes too much of a mess. We have a tree skirt and we’ve had a train in the past.

12. What do you or your family use as your tree topper? We’ve had an angel and a star.

13. Does anywhere else in your house get decorated for Christmas? Which areas and with what? My room does.

14. Do you put up any sorts of decorations outside for Christmas? If so, what are they? Sometimes. We haven’t really the past few years apart from a wreath and some lights on the house. I wish we had the space to go all out.

15. Do you mail out Christmas cards to certain people every year? If so, do you send one of those special holiday-themed family photo cards, or not? Is there a place in your home where Christmas cards you receive are placed/displayed for the season? We don’t every year, but sometimes. We just send cute ones we get from the store. The ones we receive are put up on the built in shelf space we have in the living room.

16. How soon would you consider to be “too soon” to start decorating for Christmas? Or are you/is your family the type to leave up some decorations all year round? (ie: Christmas lights left on the house, but turn them off after a certain point) I’d love to start decorating like Thanksgiving night haha. The decorations in my room have been up since last year lol. The rest, including the tree, just stay up until after New Year’s.

17. What would you do if you woke up to find Santa Claus stuck in your chimney? How might you be able to get him out of there? Uhhh. I mean, I’d be freaked out to see someone hanging out of my chimney let’s be real haha. But fine, to play along I’d have to get someone else to help cause I wouldn’t be able to do anything.

18. Does your house even have a chimney? How do you think Santa gets into the homes where one is not provided for him? Haven’t you seen The Santa Clause? They explain that.

19. What do you think would be a good gift for Santa to get Mrs. Claus? Hmm. She deserves a nice getaway cause the rest of the year is super stressful on her as well.

20. Do you feel as though you would successfully be able to operate Santa’s sleigh? Why or why not? No. I don’t even drive. Trying to steer all the reindeer and going the speed that it goes... that would be terrifying.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #christmas survey

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madamhatter · 5 years

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friendlyneighbourhoodscientist inquired: ✵ + Komui x Sophie~ Send me a ✵ + a ship and i’ll tell you who does what at christmas! | accepting ! | @friendlyneighbourhoodscientist

Who spends hours putting up lights only to get tangled in them and storm off? Oh, sweet Komui decided upon himself that he would decorate the apartment this year to surprise his partner. He surely doesn’t have any ulterior motives to decorate the house like avoiding completing paperwork and grading papers as a university professor. Not at all! However, the apparent curse of messiness that comes with Komui strikes again as he begins unboxing decorations from last year and it all begins piling up. Towering the living room now are new decorations and the lights are now partially covered by the unhung stockings and other assortments of holiday decor. Let’s just say Komui abandoned ship and was caught by his loving assistant when she came back home. Who accidentally eats a whole box of Christmas chocolates in one sitting? Komui would be guilty of munching away on sweets while working at his desk. Several of the faculty gifted the young professor sweets as a present, hoping it wouldn’t cause a disastrous mess like last time. Additionally, they gifted some to his partner, given how frequently she visits his office and is his “unofficial” T.A. Sophie isn’t a fan of chocolates, so she will graciously offer them to Komui in a hurry, kissing him quick, before she needs to run back to work. Who insists on watching the cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies? Taking advice from her sisters, and wanting to indulge in domestic life, Sophie would ask her partner on the occasion to sit down and watch some “classic” movies with her. I believe she would try (American) Hallmark Christmas movies before she sinks in the couch, slightly confused by some plots (or how several of them are ripped off from classical books). Komui, kindly, would sit beside his partner and drinking his coffee, keeping himself awake and his partner company. Though, I see that the movies would be changed to actual classic movie films (being Rankin & Bass movies since Sophie adores those). Who insists on playing nothing but Michael Buble in the few days running up to Christmas? Stuck in an office or alcove for most of her life, Sophie wouldn’t want anything more to find herself whisked away in her imagination or any of the daydreams she dreamt up as a kid. While she finds herself compromised, happily dating Komui yet also working still as the company head, Sophie will begin taking new strides. One of them being playing more holiday songs both at Komui’s office and their shared apartment. In both occasions, the 5′4″/162 cm woman would take her 6′4″/193 cm by the hand and guide him into a dance! She doesn’t mind the height difference and she would take the lead, mouthing out the words to cover songs by Michael Buble, showing Komui some proper dance moves~! Who gets their presents wrapped at the mall so the other cant go snooping? Truth be told, I wouldn’t find them resorting to this method. As far as surprises go, the mad scientist and mad hatter tend to live on spontaneity, given how the other inspires the other. I could see them using their schedules instead to wrap their presents at their apartment when the other isn’t there. However, if I had to pick, maybe it would be Komui, especially if it was during finals week before the holidays. Bless that man but this schedule would be BUSY. Who insists on making snow angels? I see this as a toss-up! I could see either suggesting this arrangement, depending on the timeline of the relationship (pre-dating, dating, etc.). I could see Komui suggesting at points since Sophie hesitates and skirts around A LOT when it comes to her own feelings and wants. He’s rather well-read in her body language -- already finding it cute with her over-reactions and quick timing. Sophie would suggest would doing it if there isn’t any person there and it’s early in the morning while walking to the bus stop. Though, she would profusely apologize and blush, realizing how soggy their clothes would end up.

Who put Christmas outfits on all the pets? The Komulin series 100% count as pets (or children) and it’s a joint effort. Sophie would be more open to messing with the idea of creating matching sweaters (or accessories) for the robots. Komui is interested in the idea, already very affectionate of his works. Even if they’re considered state-of-the-art robots, the older versions still need the same love and maintenance when they can’t perform their particular functions for a while. Do they go to family’s or have a quiet day in? Forever honor-bound to their families, far too dedicated in their work, Komui and Sophie would spend their holiday with their family (being their sisters and Sophie’s stepmother). I could see them actually inviting their loved ones over and getting ready for a wonderful Christmas dinner. Though I’ll be honest, I could see them going the extra step in inviting their family to stay over for the 25th (or staying for a few days). I could see them wanting a quiet day in, but it could be possible with family too.

Who insists on wearing matching ugly Christmas jumpers? Komui Lee is enamored with the idea of sporting an ugly Christmas sweater and any of Sophie’s creations. It wouldn’t be on Sophie’s lists of considerations to even consider making matching sweaters. But, if Komui mentions it to her, she will definitely take the extra step to make the matching sweaters, which they both would proudly wear around at home. Komui, however, definitely wears it out and happily boasts it. Who waits up until midnight to give the other their present? Disastrous schedules that these two have, I could see the two of them trying to sleep in on the 24th. However, with enough tossing and turning from Sophie, I could imagine Komui’s snapping from his deep snoring to note her restlessness. It would be from there that Sophie would suggest giving him her present because she just can’t wait to, damn it! Who insists on hand-made presents only one year? Neither! Komui is an expert tinker and Sophie is a mastered hatmaker, making things handmade is already in their systems. I could see Komui considering extra items for Christmas, however, if he wanted to get the right reactions from Sophie. Who puts mistletoe on every door frame? By no means would Sophie ever attempt doing this. Even in her relationship with Komui, she wouldn’t even attempt or humor the thought of hanging up mistletoes. However, there is certainly a problem when your partner is an entire foot taller than you and could easily place back up all the mistletoes that took you more than an hour to take down. I would say that Komui would be up to these kinds of games, even going as far as hanging a mistletoe above him while Sophie jumps on her feet to get that darn thing! And then he can sneak in a kiss while she’s jumping and :’) my heart Who gets too drunk at the work Christmas party and has to be picked up at 9:15pm? Alcohol and Sophie do not go well together when she has to continue doing her work as a CEO/company head. If she is made to go to an event with numerous associates, affiliates, and partners, she would MOST likely get herself drunk on the basis of ‘social drinking,’ when she’s using it as a terrible form of anxiety coping. Thankfully, with Komui as her plus one, they could easily leave the party together. If it was at Komui’s place of work, however, I would find that the scientist keeps his intake in check -- as opposed to his obsession with coffee. Who gets angry and almost tells kids that Santa isn’t real? Oh god no? I can’t see them getting so angry to tell ANY child that. However, I do fear the thought of Komui and Sophie getting deep into the conversation about Santa and when they spoke to their sisters about the truth about Santa. It might slip up with any curious ears around. Though, in an odd way, I could see Komui humoring wanting to tell the child early if they’re entirely persistent to prove it’s scientifically possible for Santa to exist and some robotics experts can’t tell them otherwise! But, he would take a step back, encouraging the child to pursue his theory while Sophie is nodding along, keeping her cool.

#( theoretically a maddening bunch ; truthfully a happy ending | komui & sophie )#( checkbooks inquiries and much ; answered asks )#friendlyneighbourhoodscientist #[ HEWWO?? KLEE??? MY OLD LADY??? ]#[ God tysm for sending this in! It's been forever but these two..Oh! They rot my teeth out ;w; ]

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obsidianarchives · 5 years

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Beneath the Surface - Part 2

An Unexpected Correspondence

“Hermione!”

The door to the dormitory slammed open, and Hermione looked up from her dress robes to see Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.

“How could you not tell us you were going to Slughorn’s party with Cormac McLaggen?” Parvati exclaimed.

“Oh, er,” Hermione eyed them warily. She had generally been friendly with Parvati and Lavender, but they had been two of the few who had laughed at Ron’s mocking in class earlier. They seemed to be remorseful now, or at least had resolved to move on from it.

Lavender strode up to her and pulled the robes from Hermione’s hands, inspecting them. They were blush pink with a faint gold shimmer. “Have you got any accessories for this?”

“Yeah, I — what are you doing?” Hermione asked, noticing Parvati rooting through her own trunk.

“We’re going to help you get ready,” she answered as she straightened up, holding a bright purple heavy-looking box covered with metallic stickers.

“You really don’t have to—”

“Of course we do!” Lavender exclaimed, “We’re your roommates. Plus we didn’t get invites so we have nothing better to do.”

Parvati opened her box, revealing its contents: palettes of eye shadows and tubes of eyeliner and mascara. “I also have hair accessories. Lav, don’t you have a choker that would go with the gold of her robes?” she asked as she sat Hermione down at the foot of her bed.

“On it,” Lavender called, already searching through her own things.

Hermione felt a little surprised by their sudden excitement but allowed herself to relax as they helped her get ready. She rarely hung out with girls — occasionally the three of them would have slumber parties, but they hadn’t done that since fourth year. Other than sharing a room with Ginny when she stayed at the Burrow, her friend interactions had almost exclusively been with Harry and Ron. This was nice, getting to hang out with people without the added pressure of dealing with Ron’s insecurities or Harry’s bleak future.

Parvati and Lavender did an amazing job. Parvati bemoaned not having any makeup for full coverage — not even the wizarding world had found it necessary to create foundations that matched darker skin tones — but she added gold wingtips to Hermione’s eyelids that Lavender declared “inspired.”

Lavender undid the two plaits Hermione had been wearing all day and pulled her thick hair up into a pineapple, using her wand to make some of her curls more defined, a trick she said her aunt had taught her over the summer. She and Parvati carefully placed Parvati’s alternating burgundy and gold butterfly clips in a halo around her hair, the clips flapping their wings leisurely.

Hermione thanked them both profusely, though she wondered to herself whether they should have wasted so much effort on Cormac, who Hermione was still wary of.

He was waiting for her in the common room, dressed in alarmingly bright dress robes of royal blue. His hair was ruffled carefully, and he grinned when he saw her.

“Looking good Granger!” he said, slinging an arm over her shoulder and steering her out into the halls.

Once the portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut behind them, she slid out from under his arm, careful not to mess up her hair. “Er, you look nice,” she offered as they continued down the hall.

Cormac smiled again, his eyes drifting across her body. She crossed her arms. “Thanks,” he said, “I just threw it on after the two-on-two Quidditch match my buddies and I played after dinner.”

“Oh?” Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, thinking of all the time Parvati had spent inspecting her eyelids to make sure they were symmetrical.

“Yeah, it was epic,” he said, “You know I tried out for Keeper but I’m a fairly good Beater as well. We only had one Bludger but…”

Hermione listened to Cormac’s play-by-play as attentively as she could, but found herself zoning out more than a couple of times. By the time they had turned into the corridor holding Slughorn’s office, she realized he was on a completely different story than the one he had started out with.

Thankfully, they were approaching the office now. Cormac still prattled along as they stepped through the door, but Hermione’s attention was caught by the wonderful way Slughorn had decorated the room.

It somehow seemed larger than usual, the hangings draped to look like they were inside a large tent, a towering tree sprung up where the table usually sat for their dinners. There were far more people here than Hermione had expected, and she realized that while not a lot of the student body was invited, Slughorn was taking this moment to bask in the number of connections he had. Music floated through the room as house-elves carried trays of food through the crowd. Hermione forced herself not to turn and leave right then at the sight of them, and looked around instead for Harry.

She figured he ought to be here by now with Luna, but what she thought might be the glint of his glasses turned out to be that of a gold bracelet on Melinda Bobbin’s wrist, and there were quite a few people in here with dark hair.

Her eyes fell on Blaise Zabini. He was standing off to the right with Daphne Greengrass and a short stocky man in a stetson. His dress robes were a deep burgundy with gold thread embroidered along his collar and the ends of his sweeping sleeves. His smooth skin seemed to shine under the lights. His dark eyes met hers and widened for a moment before he nodded at her in greeting.

“Want to get some drinks?” Cormac’s voice was too loud in her ear.

Hermione tore her gaze away from Zabini and nodded, “Sure.”

They wound their way through the crowd towards the bar when Cormac was hailed loudly by a large man with an impressive golden mustache. The man, it turned out, was Cormac’s uncle Tiberius.

“Good to see you my boy!” Tiberius cried boisterously.

“I didn’t realize you were coming,” Cormac said, grinning widely. Hermione could see the familial resemblance — both were quite large with blue eyes, and seemed to carry themselves with the sort of confidence that could only be found in the privileged mediocre.

“Yes, I told your father to keep it all hush hush, thought I would surprise you,” Tiberius said, his eyes falling on Hermione, “But it seems you’re the one with the surprises Cormac!”

“This is Hermione,” Cormac said, sliding his hand around her waist unexpectedly, causing her to stumble into him. This close, she could smell the faint scent of grass and sweat that clung to him. She tried to maintain her composure, leaning away as she smiled politely at Cormac’s uncle.

“Charmed,” Tiberius said, taking Hermione’s hand and kissing it, “I’m glad to see Cormac has been doing well in his extracurricular activities.”

Hermione coughed in surprise at the man’s brazen sleaziness. Cormac moved his hand to pat her back as he grinned at Tiberius, which allowed her to shift away from him. Feeling thoroughly uncomfortable, she resumed her search for Harry, resolving to ditch Cormac at the first sight of her friend.

Thankfully, Tiberius soon bid them farewell as Professor Slughorn called to him, a swell of laughter passing through the room. Cormac and Hermione finally made it to the bar, where Cormac ordered a firewhisky for himself and a butterbeer for her. As she took a sip, she wondered if she should have chosen firewhisky as well — she was of age and seemed to be full of nerves. Perhaps it would have soothed them.

Hermione spotted Harry with Luna across the room, talking to Slughorn, a small man in glasses, and a vampire. She followed Cormac absently, trying to figure out a way to get over to them.

“Well would you look at that?” Cormac said.

Hermione glanced at him, still distracted, “Hmm?”

Cormac pointed up, a sly smile on his face. Hermione was suddenly filled with dread at the sight of the cluster of green leaves floating just above them. She took a step back.

“Ah, come on,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “It’s Christmas.”

His hand slipped up her neck, fingers burrowing into her hair. As he leaned in, Hermione could smell the firewhisky on his breath, hot and sharp. Just before his lips touched hers, she seemed to jolt back into herself. She ducked down and out of his arms, feeling his fingers tug at the strands of her hair as she unloosed herself. Before he could say anything, she ducked through two of the Weird Sisters, heart racing.

“Hermione! Hermione!”

She was relieved to see Harry approach, pulling Luna after him. “Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!”

“What’s happened to you?” Harry asked, his eyes trailing up to her hair, which she could feel was coming undone.

“Oh, I’ve just escaped — I mean, I’ve just left Cormac,” she said. She tried to smooth up the back of her hair, but could tell it was a lost cause. At the confused look on Harry’s face, she added, “Under the mistletoe.”

“Serves you right for coming with him,” he told her. She felt a twinge of irritation. How did her coming here with Cormac mean she deserved to be accosted?

“It’s not like I wanted to,” she hissed, “He cornered me. Let’s go this way, we’ll be able to see him coming, he’s so tall.” She lead them to the other side of the room, grabbing a goblet of mead as she went and draining the cup in one. Too late, she realized she had lead them right to Professor Trelawney, who was standing alone.

“Hello,” said Luna politely.

Trelawney greeted Luna back, and as they started their conversation, Harry turned back to Hermione, concern on his face.

“I didn’t ask before. Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?”

Hermione glared at him, “Of course not! I’ve got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts.”

“Good,” said Harry, “Because he’ll just fall apart again, and we’ll lose the next match—”

Her panicked nerves transformed at his words, a burning anger rising in her. “Quidditch! Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn’t asked me one single questions about myself, no, I’ve just been treated to ‘A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen’ nonstop ever since—” she broke off, noticing him coming their way, “Oh no, here he comes!”

She hurried off without another word, ducking around the large Christmas tree. One of the leaves got tangled in her hair and she stopped to unwind it, before turning back to continue her course.

She glanced behind her to make sure Cormac hadn’t seen her, and turned around too late, colliding into Zabini.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, grabbing his arms to keep herself upright. His warm scent washed over her, cinnamon and cloves mingling with the smell of pine from the tree beside them.

Zabini’s hands gripped her elbows a moment and then let go, his eyebrows raised at the sight of her. His gaze drifted up to her hair.

“You look like you’ve just wrestled a troll.”

She flushed, reaching up self-consciously to touch the back of her hair again before stopping herself. “I may as well have,” she breathed, glancing behind her again. Cormac had just made it to Harry, who was shrugging. Cormac frowned at Harry’s response and looked up, eyes tracking the room. Hermione ducked past Zabini and behind the tree, counting on the both of them to hide her.

Zabini watched her with a frown, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” she hissed, peeking out a bit to see if Cormac was on the move, “I’m hiding from the troll.”

Zabini followed her gaze for a moment, his frown deepening. “You’re not having a great night, are you Granger?”

Hermione was barely listening as she searched the room for another place to hide. There was a small gap between Gwenog Jones and a man almost as large as Hagrid. If she timed it right, she could slip between them and end up on the other side of the room without Cormac being any the wiser.

Zabini was looking at her again, scrutinizing her face. “Do you want to get out of here?”

His suggestion startled her out of her plotting. She gaped up at him. Why would Blaise Zabini want to go anywhere with her? His hand was suddenly gripping her elbow again, eyes hardening as it drifted past the tree. She followed his gaze to see Cormac walking in their direction.

“Yes, let’s go,” she said quickly.

Luckily, this side of the tree was closest to the exit. Zabini pulled her through the clusters of people. He dropped her arm just as Filch appeared in the doorway, pulling Draco Malfoy inside by the ear, looking triumphant. He gestured for Hermione to follow him before ducking around Filch and sliding out of the room.

The hall outside was silent, the sounds of the party contained within the confines of Slughorn’s office. Hermione took a deep breath, feeling lighter.

Zabini continued down the hall and she hurried after him, wondering where they were going. The silence, relieving at first, quickly turned awkward. A thousand questions rose in Hermione’s head, but only one left her mouth.

“What are you doing?”

Zabini looked down at her with a smirk before turning back to face forward, “Walking.”

Hermione felt a surge of irritation, “Obviously,” she said, “But why are you helping me? What about your date?”

He shrugged, “She’ll be fine.”

Hermione frowned, “That’s not very considerate, you know. Does she at least know you’ve left?”

“You’re one to talk, aren’t we here so you could ditch McLaggen?”

“McLaggen is an aggressive pig,” Hermione snapped.

“You’re the one who chose to take him as your date.”

Hermione felt angry at his words. Harry’s insistence that she was somehow getting her comeuppance rose back up in her memory. She stopped walking. “Just because I agreed to go with him to the party doesn’t mean I asked to be manhandled under a floating bush!”

Zabini halted a few steps ahead of her, looking back, his eyes wide in shock, “No — I didn’t mean...I know the way he treated you isn’t your fault. I’m sorry it came off that way.”

Hermione eyed him warily, her frustration simmering at the genuine look of remorse on his face. She started walking again.

“I just assumed you’d go with Potter,” Zabini continued, when it was clear to him that she wouldn’t bite his head off.

“Yeah, well I was originally going to go with Ron, but that didn’t work out.”

“You almost brought Weasley?” she wasn’t looking at him, but she could hear the derision in his voice.

“Only as friends,” she didn’t know why she felt the need to clarify, but she did anyway. They climbed the stairs up toward Gryffindor Tower, “I thought it might be fun, before…”

“Before he started acting like an arse, you mean,” Zabini said.

She shrugged, “Sure.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and when she looked up at him, she saw that he looked thoughtful.

“I’d always wondered why you hung around the two of them,” he said finally, “Doesn’t seem all that equal of a relationship.”

“I’m sure you would know, seeing as you’re by yourself most of the time,” Hermione retorted, though she kept her voice light to let him know she wasn’t upset by his estimation.

“You mean like you’ve been most of the year?”

That brought her up short. Zabini was watching her closely — she could feel her skin warm the longer he held her under his gaze. But he wasn’t wrong. She had been spending a lot of time on her own recently, ever since Harry had gotten that stupid book.

“I suppose so.”

The Fat Lady was up ahead, pretending to be asleep.

“It’s not so bad,” Zabini said gently, “Sometimes you can only be your true self on your own.”

Hermione slowed down to a halt, narrowing her eyes at him. Is that why he kept to himself? Was who he was with other people not who he truly was?

“You should be able to find people who allow you to be yourself though. That’s what friendship is,” she said. Even when Harry and Ron frustrated her to no end, that was the one thing she knew was always true about them.

Zabini shrugged, “Perhaps you’re right.”

She watched him cautiously, the way his dark eyes drifted along the walls, the torch light reflecting off of his cheekbones. He slid his hands into the pockets of his robes.

“You know you still haven’t explained why you helped me,” she said.

Zabini’s eyes fell back to hers, “Dunno,” he said quietly. It felt almost as if he were talking to himself, but his eyes seemed to burn into her, more intense than any gaze she’d felt. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. He rocked forward on his toes, his scent wafting over her a moment before he thought better of it, settling back down on his heels. He took a step back, “‘Night, Granger.”

Hermione watched in stunned silence as he turned and disappeared around the corner. She exhaled, confused by the way her stomach flipped as she watched him go.

…

Hermione woke early the next morning to see Harry and Ginny off as they left for break. She and Lavender walked down to the common room together, Hermione yawning as they entered to find Harry, Ron, and Ginny waiting near the portrait hole.

As Lavender careened into Ron’s arms and their mouths fused together, Hermione passed Harry and Ginny their Christmas presents.

“Thanks,” Harry said sleepily, passing her a package of her own, “Listen, I missed you at the end of the party—”

“I left early,” Hermione said, heat creeping up on her cheeks. She knew she couldn’t bring up her late night walk with Zabini. She wasn’t even sure how she felt about it, and she knew for a fact how Harry would react to her spending any amount of time with a Slytherin outside of class.

“I figured,” Harry said, pointedly ignoring the slurping sounds coming from just a few feet over.

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed at her brother’s antics. “We’ve got to go,” she said loudly, pulling Hermione into a quick hug, “McGonagall said not to be late.”

“I’ve got something to tell you,” Harry said in a low voice as Ron and Lavender broke apart and Ginny made to exit the common room, “After break. It’s important.” He gave her a significant look, letting her know it wasn’t something he could write to her about; that it would be too dangerous.

“Alright,” she said, pulling him into a tight hug, “Have a good Christmas!”

“You too,” Harry grinned.

Ron glanced at her awkwardly, but Hermione turned away, following Lavender back up to their room. She wasn’t going to deal with his attitude just before the holidays.

Parvati was awake by the time she and Lavender got back to their dormitory. “You two up for breakfast?” she asked through a yawn.

“Sure,” Hermione said, surprised at being included. “I left your clips on your table, Parvati, I didn’t know where to put them. Thanks again for letting me borrow them.”

“No problem,” Parvati said with a smile.

“You have to tell us all about the party,” Lavender insisted, “But after I brush my teeth.”

Hermione grimaced and pulled out her clothes for the train ride home, a pair of jeans, a thick navy and red jumper knitted for her by Mrs. Weasley, and black boots. She twisted her hair down in the front, pulling it all back into a low but wild puff.

Soon, the three of them were in the Great Hall, eating their last meal before they would be on the train for hours.

“So what happened?” Lavender asked, scooping eggs onto her plate, “I want all the details.”

“Well, Slughorn invited a lot of his former pupils,” she started slowly. There wasn’t much to say, she had left the party before she had gotten the chance to properly network. Her eyes wandered from her plate across the hall to the Slytherin table.

Zabini was there, sitting off on his own, a small book held open in one hand. As she noticed him, his eyes seemed to drift up from the pages as if called, to meet hers. Hermione blushed and looked back to her food.

“Who cares?” Parvati exclaimed, “What about McLaggen?”

“Oh,” Hermione stammered, her mind elsewhere, on the quiet moment just before Zabini had left her with the Fat Lady, on his thoughtful but burning gaze. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing much of each other…”

She explained what had happened, and felt satisfaction at the looks of horror and disgust on Lavender and Parvati’s faces.

“Gross,” Parvati said, wrinkling her nose.

“I can’t believe his uncle said that,” Lavender chimed in.

“Yes, well, I ended up leaving early,” Hermione said, “I’m sorry all your hard work had to go to waste.”

“Not at all!” Parvati exclaimed, “It was fun.”

“Plus, you had to have turned heads when you arrived,” Lavender grinned, “You looked wicked.”

Hermione flushed again, and pursed her lips.

She rode on the Hogwarts Express with them, the two of them mostly content to chatter away about the latest issue of Witch Weekly and their last Divination class. It was a reminder to Hermione why she didn’t hang out with them regularly; they didn’t share many of the same interests. Still, it was refreshing to be around regular girls, to talk about normal things even as danger loomed. She knew Lavender and Parvati weren’t unaware — Parvati’s parents had been threatening all term to pull her and her sister out of the school — but they seemed to find comfort in the latest hair color developed by Fancy Follicles the way Hermione would a book. She tried to stay engaged as much as she could, and soon their conversation turned to Ron.

“I don’t know,” Lavender sighed, unwrapping a pumpkin pasty, “He just doesn’t seem to be all that present, you know? I feel like I don’t really know how he feels about me.”

Parvati frowned, “Don’t you ever talk to him?”

Lavender shrugged, “Not really. It’s mostly snogging,” suddenly she turned to Hermione, “What do you think?”

Hermione grimaced. Lavender didn’t want to know what she actually thought — that Ron was with Lavender because he liked to feel wanted, to be seen kissing a girl. Ron rarely did things without the promise of people noticing, despite that also making him nervous at the possibility of the attention turning negative. Instead, she gave her another answer, “I don’t even know why you like Ron, to be honest.”

Lavender looked shocked, “But he’s your friend!”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. That was precisely why she felt that way. She had been the brunt of his bad behavior enough times to know she would never want to deal with it in any romantic situation.

“I was always surprised you never had feelings for him,” Lavender said, “Or Harry.”

Hermione shrugged. There had been a brief moment in fourth year when she thought she could maybe have feelings for Ron, but the Yule Ball had woken her up.

As if reading her mind, Parvati said, “I get it. Padma and I went to the Yule Ball with them. No thanks.”

Lavender leaned back with a huff, “Well hopefully when we get back, we’ll figure out how to be on the same page.”

Hermione felt a surge of pity. It seemed Lavender truly liked Ron. “Perhaps,” she said, hoping she sounded optimistic.

…

The Hogwarts Express pulled into King’s Cross Station that evening, and Hermione bade farewell to Parvati and Lavender, whose parents met them on the platform. On her way to the platform barrier, she saw Zabini sitting on a bench alone, frowning at his book. His long legs were crossed in front of him so that other students had to make an arc around him to get by. He brought his free hand to his mouth, wetting the tips of his fingers before turning the page.

Hermione felt a sudden urge to go to him, to wish him a Happy Christmas, but in that moment a group of fifth year Ravenclaws pushed their way past her, startling her back to reality. She took a deep breath and followed them through the barrier, away from the boy who seemed to keep creeping into her mind, arriving back in the Muggle world between platforms 9 and 10.

She spotted her father down the way a bit, in a flat cap and bomber jacket, waving at her. She smiled at him, feeling a little awkward as she approached.

“Hi Dad,” she said as he pulled her into a hug.

“It’s been a long time, love,” he said, “School alright?”

Hermione nodded vaguely, grabbing Crookshanks’ carrier out of the cart as her father pulled out her luggage. “It’s been okay.”

She followed her father out of the station towards the car, unsure of what to say. She hadn’t seen her parents since the first week of the summer, when she had stopped at home briefly before going off to the Burrow for the rest of break. And before that...she couldn’t remember. She did know that this was her first Christmas home since her first year at Hogwarts, five years ago.

“Your mum’s finishing up at the office,” he told her as they made it to the car. He hoisted her luggage into the trunk as she slid into the passenger’s seat. “Should be home once we get there.”

They drove through London with few words, the silence punctuated by the sports talk show her father loved to listen to. Whenever the space between their conversation got too long, Hermione tried to think of something to ask — about the car, her dad’s Aunt Trina over in Bristol, on their work. Each answer was more mundane than the previous, and Hermione began to feel guilty. She had been in boarding school all this time, but should she feel quite this separate from her family?

Her mum was home as her father said, and looked happy to see her, if not a little tired from a long day’s work.

“The Carter twins were in again,” she sighed as she sat at the kitchen table, “I keep telling their mum she doesn’t have to bring them in for every little fall.”

“Didn’t Ashley cut her mouth falling off a swing?” her dad asked.

“Yes, but it was nothing a little ice couldn’t fix,” her mum said, sounding exasperated.

Hermione excused herself quietly from the room and pulled her things upstairs. She looked around her room, at how ordinary it was, the light pink bedspread she’d picked out when she was ten, and the small desk pushed into the corner, a lamp on the corner. She went to her window and pulled back the curtains, looking out on the empty street. Everything was still and peaceful — it felt wrong.

Hermione turned away from the window and rooted through her bag for her wand. She could hear her mother in her parents’ bedroom, presumably changing out of her work clothes. The football match blared from the sitting room, and Hermione heard her father shouting at the television.

She slipped outside, looking up at her house, the white paneling and square windows. The gray sky above her felt dark and foreboding, and a light mist crept around the corners. Hermione took a deep breath and raised her wand, reciting the protection spells she had taught herself in her spare time at school. She said them out loud, not trusting her skill in nonverbal spells enough for something so important.

Rain began to fall as she finished, the first few drops hitting her forehead and hands as the last spell left her mouth, casting a brief golden glow around the house. She hurried back inside, hoping it would be enough.

…

Christmas break at the Grangers tended to be a quiet affair. Hermione’s parents were in and out of the office in the days leading up to the actual holiday, taking appointments until the very last minute. Hermione didn’t mind it, she had been used to the busy schedules of her parents, and actually enjoyed the time on her own when she wasn’t feeling the guilt of being gone for so long, of not being able to tell them everything about her world.

She wasn’t sure if it helped or made her feel worse that she wasn’t getting as much information from the wizarding world as she was used to. It was clear the Daily Prophet was suppressing information, perhaps to increase morale, but Hermione wanted to be informed not coddled. She thought about Harry and Ron at the Burrow. While it wasn’t the headquarters for the Order, she knew that enough members were in and out of the house that there was so much they might be learning just by virtue of being there.

Hermione was starting to feel lonely. She had gotten used to the chaotic nature of the Burrow, the cramped but cheerful air about the house. She missed waking up to the smell of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, Fred and George’s jokes, even attempting to play Quidditch in the apple orchard. She fought the urge to write Harry and beg him to tell her whatever information he had for her, which she was sure he’d already recited to Ron in the safety of his bedroom, just below the family ghoul. As she stared up at her ceiling, the flower decal peeling after holding up for nearly a decade, she wondered why she hadn’t come up with some kind of code for them to communicate by.

The tapping on her window startled her out of her funk, excitement rising at the thought of seeing Hedwig, of hearing some news from the world she now called home.

She pushed herself off of her bed and pulled back her curtains. It wasn’t Hedwig on her sill. It wasn’t even Pigwidgeon, though she hadn’t expected him.

Instead, a large Great Horned Owl sat watching her almost haughtily, it’s plumage expertly groomed. A scroll was attached to it’s leg, tied with a black ribbon. Confused, she pushed her window open, allowing it to enter and perch on the end of her desk.

The owl stood almost motionless as it allowed her to remove the scroll. She slid the ribbon off and unfurled it, revealing an unfamiliar scrawl in shining green ink. Hermione scanned the letter quickly, her stomach flipping at the signature at the bottom.

Blaise Zabini.

She flipped the parchment over, as if expecting to find more, some kind of assurance that this was all a joke, or that she was dreaming. She looked back up at the owl, now watching her with an air of impatience. It looked how she would imagine an owl owned by Zabini would look, stiff and proud.

She turned away from it then and sat on the edge of her bed, smoothing out the letter and reading it from the top, her heart racing.

Granger,

This is probably as strange as it is unexpected. I was reading a book that made me think of you and your maddening self-righteousness, and then suddenly I was pulling out a parchment and quill.

I don’t know that I’ve ever written to anyone outside of school — there’s never been a point — but my mother is off with her new boyfriend and there isn’t much to do at home. Maybe I’m just bored. Anyway, thinking about you made me think about what you said the night of Slughorn’s party, about friends and being yourself without judgment.

I’m not even sure if my owl will find you, to be honest — I don’t know how the post works when the recipient is in a Muggle home. If this letter does find you, then you’ll probably be unsurprised to learn that I’m not all that convinced by your argument. I’ve seen the way people change around others, the way they change themselves to live up to their expectations rather than just being who they are. I know I’ve been a victim of this too. It almost feels like it’s happened more since I noticed it. Except with you. I’m not sure what it means that though we’ve maybe only had one genuine conversation, I don’t feel the need to pretend with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that before, not even with my own mother.

Anyway, I hope you’re doing well in the Muggle world. I know you probably won’t respond, but I do hope there’s at least some relief to being away from wizards at the moment, given everything that’s been happening.

-Blaise Zabini

Hermione read the letter three times over, each time her disbelief growing stronger. Even as her incredulity grew, she found herself having visceral reactions to his words, the responses already forming in her mind. Where did he get off, calling her self-righteous? Was this truly the first time he had written to anyone, except most likely to his mother? She was surprised by the introspection in his words, even as he disagreed with her.

I don’t feel the need to pretend with you.

Her eyes lingered over those nine words, butterflies rising from her stomach to her chest.

She found herself noticing the way Zabini’s t’s tilted slightly to the right, the way his handwriting was neat and reserved, like he himself. She still couldn’t believe this was happening, that she was holding an actual letter written by a Slytherin boy she had never really given a thought to until recently. As she stared at the parchment, she realized she didn’t know what to do.

She looked up at the owl, still sitting pompously on her desk. Should she respond? The owl hadn’t left right away, which made her wonder if Zabini had instructed him to wait for her response. She remembered the summer before last, when Harry had sent Hedwig to peck adequate responses out of she and Ron after they had been sworn to secrecy by Professor Dumbledore.

But it said in the letter that Zabini wasn’t even sure his message would reach her, much less that she would read and respond to it. She supposed she could thank the owl and send him on his way without anything to take back with him. She stared at him, pondering. The owl stared back.

Her heart thudded as she made her decision, heat crawling up her skin. It would be rude not to respond, she told herself.

Hermione went over to her desk, kneeling down to pull open the bottom drawer of her desk, where she kept Crookshanks’ food and toys. She pulled out the spare package of owl nuts she kept there for Hedwig, Pig, and occasionally Viktor’s owl. She quickly tipped a few of the nuts into a shallow bowl and placed it onto the desk next to the owl. He blinked at her silently, unimpressed.

She grabbed a few sheets of loose leaf paper and a pen from another drawer — she didn’t feel like searching for her inkwell and quill.

She read Zabini’s letter again, trying to figure out how to start.

Zabini,

I won’t pretend I’m not surprised to receive your letter. I wasn’t sure anything I’d said that night would actually stick, and had decided to write it off as a random but not unpleasant interaction. I don’t know how much I like being called ‘self-righteous,’ much less by someone who seems set on walking around with a superior air about him.

With that being said, you’re not wrong about people changing themselves when they’re with friends, but I don’t think that’s always a bad thing. There’s a difference between conforming and being considerate. If you expect not to change around your friends, to make them feel welcome and not judged, then you aren’t a good friend. I suppose you do have to be sure to stay true to yourself, but anyone forcing you to change who you are isn’t your friend. I’m glad you don’t feel the need to pretend with me.

The Muggle world is okay. In terms of not having much to do, I’m afraid we’re in the same boat. My parents have been quite busy in the time leading up to Christmas, but they often spend most of their time at work. It’s lonelier than I remembered. I haven’t truly spent time here in years, and it’s not like I can just knock on Rachel Shellstrop’s door after not having spoken to her for six years. But I know I need to do a better job of being here for my parents, especially given the way things are going in the wizarding world.

I thought it would be a relief, but the magical world has truly become my home at this point. Coming back to the non-magical one can be a bit of a culture shock after being away for so long. I always feel like I’m on the wrong foot here. Everything is familiar, but I no longer belong, and I’d rather be where I’m most understood.

I hope you have a good Christmas.

-Hermione Granger

She read her response a few times over to make sure it sounded okay. More than checking that there was no information someone might read into if they intercepted it, Hermione was more worried about not sounding like a total dunderhead. She thought she’d done okay — it was only a little clunky in the way that friendly letters to a person she’d never expected to be friends with was.

She folded up the letter and went to attach it to Zabini’s owl. He hadn’t moved from his spot the entire time he’d been there, not even attempting to eat the snack Hermione had set out for him. Once she’d fastened the letter to his leg, he hopped over to the window sill, flying out without hesitation. Hermione watched his flight, nerves fluttering in the pit of her stomach.

To Be Continued

#Blaise Zabini #Hermione Granger #Hogwarts

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vex-bittys · 6 years

Note

Me and the guys come over for a visit. Could we get a mistletoe for Alpha and Butterscotch, mistletoe Moonstone and Guardian with Honey and Poff. Munchkin (A twister lamia baby) could probably do for a sweet mistletoe from Edgar, Vex, Waffle, Syrup, and Butters (generally anyone that wants baby lamia kisses). Mistletoe for Me... Surprise me. Also we are handing out christmas cookies, funny hats and light up necklaces and bracelets.

*The mistletoe mischief-makers wave at you and your lamia bitties when you arrive in the shop. They hurry over to grab some funny hats, dodging Chains, Corals, Mambas, Kings, and Papythons who are decking themselves out in the necklaces and bracelets. Helpful Kraits pass the cookies while a sneaky Corny slips a piece of mistletoe to Alpha, the King lamia.

*Alpha flares his hood, lifting the mistletoe and whistling to get Butterscotch’s attention. Butterscotch turns, showing off his new accessory- a reindeer antler hat with sprigs of mistletoe tied to each antler. Chuckling, Alpha gives Butterscotch the Honey Bo a kiss. Not wanting to be left out, Moonstone and Guardian find mistletoe and look around for unsuspecting targets.

*Honey and Poff happen to be munching some cookies nearby. Moonstone and Guardian bring over their mistletoe. Honey gives Guardian a happy little smooch on the cheek, but Poff blushes, flustered, and Moonstone has to take the initiative and kiss him. Poof looks like he might melt.

*Waffle and Syrup bring Butter over, and they each take a turn kissing baby Munchkin. Butter bops you with his mistletoe, demanding a smooch from you for himself, and you oblige. Butter giggles.

*Vex and Waffle come over to visit Munchkin as well, each of them kissing on his cheeks. Beep and peeps sound from the nursery. The hatchlings want to join in the smooching. Edgar lifts the little babies one by one and lets them smooch Munchkin. The hatchlings aren’t sure what all the smoochy fuss is about, but they have a great time.

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imagine-your-party-hosts · 7 years

Text

Winter at U.A. was one of the most exciting times of the year.

The first day of November, Midoriya came into class with matching scarves his mom had knitted both you and him, and the whole winter months consisted of new matching accessories every week, from mittens to hats to headbands. He brought you a hot chocolate each day it snowed that you two shared, and another for when you two were studying for tests after class underneath an All Might themed quilt, afterwards going to your dorm to hang ornaments on your little fake tree. Winter with Midoriya was going to the small holiday party Momo put together for your class, ignoring the giggles from Kirishima and Kaminari as they dangled mistletoe over your two, only leaning over to kiss a bright red, freckled cheek, still cold from the outside, damp from falling snow. It only made Midoriya stammer more, only made Kaminari laugh harder and Kirishima clap his hands together, though you didn’t mind, only snatching the mistletoe from them and making a note to hang it above your little tree.

Winter with Bakugou was several pairs of mittens, all with the palms singed and fraying. It was days spent on Kirishima’s couch while he argued with Mina about switching Secret Santas because, ‘God fucking dammit, I don’t want Kaminari!’ and watching Kaminari whine because it was supposed to be a secret. And then it was having to redraw names, because Kaminari kept saying that knowing defeated the whole purpose of a Secret Santa, and Bakugou immediately resigning from the whole group after he somehow managed to draw Kaminari’s name again. It was having to go shopping with Bakugou, and dropping small hints such as, ‘Wow, Kaminari would love that, don’t you think!’ to, ‘Put that in the cart, we’re getting that for him.’ It was coming back to your dorm, opening the door to a room lit with fairy lights that spelled out your name, Kirishima attempting to tug a stumbling, dazed Kaminari back around the corner, while Bakugou turned to you and said, “I’m still not getting anyone a present.”

Aizawa did not like anything about the winter months. It was cold, the students were rowdier than ever waiting for their break, the cold dried his eyes out even faster, and did he mention that it was cold? His only saving grace was the electric sleeping bag that you’d gifted to him early, that he curled up in while his students complained about the essay he’d given them to be due the day before break, and when he woke up the classroom was decorated with lights and baubles and not one sentence had been written. Winter with Aizawa was meeting up with him the day class got out for break, laughing with Yamada while you waited for him to finish grading the papers, and, regardless of Aizawa accusing several of the essays of looking dangerously close to Momo Yaoyorozu’s in certain paragraphs, he still tucked them away to join you. It was coming home to the apartment you’d already decorated, and what was once barren was now full of holiday joy, full of wrapped presents under a glimmering tree that had gotten Yamada’s seal of approval, with hanging cat ornaments that had gotten Aizawa’s. It was turning up the heat and Aizawa still freezing, until you let him unwrap another present early of a heated blanket that you wrapped around the both of you.

Spending winter with Todoroki consisted of doing everything with him that his childhood did not give him. You sat up a tree in your own dorm room with him, going to the store with him to pick out your own ornaments - there was no general theme with the tree, only selected baubles that you both thought were cute, only ones that you picked up and would tell each other, ‘This reminds me of you.’ Everyday you saw him you would tell him Rudolph left a present underneath the tree from him, and he would laugh each and every time, getting the smallest twinkle in his eye at whatever small trinket you’d gifted him, regardless if it was only a small plushie of a reindeer or a golden snow globe that sang a carol when you’d shake it. You two spent everyday of the cold months together, each day filled with some sort of tradition, whether it be decorating or just simply sitting together with hot chocolate to watch Christmas specials. Winter with Todoroki was him spending the holidays with you, and you two going Christmas morning to visit his mother in the hospital, arms full of glittering gifts pristinely wrapped by you two in candy cane paper and photos in lovingly crafted frames.

Ochaco was not one to let the cold stop her, even though she was sneezing and coughing the very first week the smallest flurry of snow was seen outside. You wrapped her in blankets and sweaters, assuring her that Aizawa would appreciate it more if she didn’t go to class to get him sick, though she still did, and, sure enough, the next day Aizawa was sniveling quietly to himself as he wrapped himself up in his sleeping bag. Still, you brought her hot chocolate and cider until she finally recovered, and you two were left to enjoy the lights U.A. had strung up across the campus for the season. You two agreed no gift-giving, though you still made her her own sweater to wear so she could stop apologizing for stealing hers when she was sick, a knitted thing with Uravity placed on the back. She started to scold you, saying that wasn’t what you two agreed on, though when you only assured her it was an early birthday present she teared up suddenly, tugging the sweater on over her school uniform and wearing it every single day. There were no gifts as you two agreed on after that, though you two did go to each family’s holiday gatherings together, baking cookies and cakes together with her still wearing her Uravity sweater.

Kirishima had a love-hate relationship with the cold. He loved the little cheesy traditions, like hanging mistletoe over every doorway you could possibly walk in, and all the little mishaps that could happen with it - like that one time it was Bakugou that accidentally walked in, instead. He hated however the way it made his nose run, the way it made his cheeks a bright red; he loved these things about you, however, loved cupping your cheeks in his gloved hands, and he had no complaints about the chapped lips he got from kissing you out in the cold. He loved the way the cold made you snuggle even closer to him, the way it made you place your hands into the pockets of his coat, the way it made you ask to borrow his sweatshirts and the way they fit you. He adored the idea of you two exchanging gifts and spent the whole month of December trying to decide what to get you, until it was suddenly the week before Christmas and he had to go out with the others to have them help carry all of the things he was planning on buying you. He bought you two all matching sets, from pajamas to couple sweaters, and though Bakugou said it was stupid, Mina just told him to stop being bitter. You were overwhelmed by all the gifts, though you still laughed and kissed him under his doorway at the mistletoe hung from above, giving him his gift - a Red Riot figurine still in its original packaging, that he grinned largely at and praised you on being able to find such an object. The mistletoe stayed up well into the new year, still in every doorway including the classroom, regardless of Aizawa smacking it down every time he walked through, and, even if you were late and it had already gotten taken down, you’d still lean into kiss his cheek.

#bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #aizawa shouta #todoroki shouto #uraraka ochako #kirishima ejirou #my writing #winter at ua #you guys: emily this is a mystic messenger blog #me: you - you want bnha??#idk i did winter with the rfa last year and i liked it a lot so here's winter with the bnha crew cause this series is soft and deserves a #soft thing like this #not mm

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syxhenry · 7 years

Note

🎄

[not accepting, this is the only mistletoe henry will be under]

it’s been a long night. henry’s not much of a festive guy to begin with, but especially these types of days usually celebrated in the company of one’s family, are days he wishes he could skip altogether. all at once his treasured home becomes too loud, too rowdy, filled with too many voices and festivities and noise.

but it’s not like he can escape it, what with the entirety of the ship seemingly being decorated in the colours and accessories of the holiday. and he knows if he were to not show up where the rest of the crew has gathered, too many curious or insistent minds will come to try and pry him out of the questionable privacy of his bedroom.

and tonight just doesn’t quite feel like the type of night where he wants anyone to breach the quiet of his quarters.

so he makes his way over to the mess hall, distinctly avoids any of the alcohol-spiked drinks and searches the space for his close friend. his eyes soon find ephraim, so he goes over to hand the only gift he’s prepared. not so much because it’s christmas, but more so because the end of his work on the little robot accidentally coincides with the holiday. it’s not like the cook is going to complain.

when eventually he loses ephraim to the crowd again, he sits himself down somewhere away from the others, from where he’s able to see the entire crew temporarily lose their minds, it seems. with a vague hint of distaste, henry watches people come across other people under hanging twigs of mistletoe and the ensuing lip-locking that comes from it.

there’s too much of it going on, somehow, too many people using lips and teeth and tongues - and he really doesn’t want to be a part of it, but somehow by merely being aboard the ship he is. a voyeur of sorts. someone on the outside looking in, witness to all the drunken stupor of the entire rest of the crew. a quiet bystander, growing sicker to the stomach with every passing minute.

until at some point eventually the blood rushes heavy through his hearing and he can no longer pretend he’s enjoying an evening in the company of friends - because he sees none of them in the inebriated faces and smug grins of the ones around him.

getting up from his seat, henry sidesteps any possible conversation people attempt to make with him, makes a beeline for the exit of the common room. with an expression set on distraught, he even as much as elbows aside someone crying out this or the other nonsense about the rutting mistletoe. he’s too wound up to entertain even the slightest bit of drunken chatter, wishing to get out of there as soon as possible.

but something catches his eye halfway out the door - someone, is the better way to say it - and he automatically falls back to a stop. eyes going over the tall male standing a little further away, henry looks at the image of him for a long time. silence falls over him all of a sudden, numbing the onslaught of noise and people trying way too hard to be happy. while he looks, the pressure on his temples slowly diminishes and it feels like for the first time that evening, he manages to take a proper breath.

without really realising what he’s doing, henry starts moving. his feet automatically lead him further in the direction of the one he’s looking at, while his eyes continue to take in every little detail. yihan is hurt - a fact that pulls at his heartstrings for some reason - and there is something in the other male’s face that makes henry want to pull him in and never let go.

he spots the twig of gorram mistletoe almost right above the priest’s head but a moment before he reaches the man, and for a split second he considers tearing it down, throwing it on the floor and stomping on it until it’s nothing but scattered leaves and wood. but then he’s within reach and his mind directs its focus at other things.

his arms move around the priest almost instantly, but the movement is not harsh or demanding. as gently as he can manage, is a more accurate description of the way he leans in, gets up on his tip toes and slips his arms around yihan’s neck. ever so gently does he lean in until they’re standing against each other, chest to chest, heart to heart, cheek to cheek.

he doesn’t speak, doesn’t want to become just one more of the incessant voices of the evening, instead just stands in the surprising quiet of the embrace for a few seemingly endless heartbeats. when he sinks back down on the flat of his feet, he allows his arms to loosen from around yihan’s neck. still without words, his hand moves to ever so gently touch the sore looking spot on the taller male’s face, almost cradling yihan’s cheek as he does so, worry sparking heavily in his eyes at the sight of it.

he doesn’t make eye contact, isn’t really sure what he might find in the priest’s eyes after all, but merely allows his hand to sink further down from yihan’s cheek. down, down, down, until his fingers brush past skin, leisurely tangling themselves with those of the other male. not possessive, not with the intent to force, but merely to be able to gently tug yihan along with him.

away from the noise, away from the mistletoe, away from everything that seems to be as alarming to him as it is to the taller male - if the earlier expression on yihan’s face is anything to go by.

it feels almost like a dream. because henry walks through the same chaos as there has been aboard serenity the entire night already, but it doesn’t seem to reach him anymore. his mind is quiet, the maelstrom of thoughts and impressions has gone entirely still, leaving him in a state of peace that feels almost numb to his senses.

and within the span of a few minutes, they’ve left the wildness of serenity behind them. henry knows the spaces of the ship better than anyone, has walked her hidden pathways and intricate halls so often the layout of the entire ship is layered out in 3d blueprints in his mind, and the skill serves him well that night, when he’s able to steer them entirely clear of anyone else, finding a comfortable spot on a mostly unused ledge in the cargo bay.

the quiet spans over numerous heartbeats. time is lost on him, his eyes staring unseeing off into the distance. he doesn’t know when it is, but eventually yihan speaks up. and despite every other noise having seemingly been dimmed into nonexistence, the priest’s voice reaches him loud and clear. ‘why are you not partying it up with the others?’ henry turns his head to look at the taller male, a shrug already pulling up his shoulders in reply.

“it’s not my cup of tea,” is all he divulges to the other male. it’s only when he turns his head back to the front that he realises - from the corner of his eyes - that he’s still holding yihan’s hand. their fingers still laced together, hands resting gently atop the ledge in between them. he notes with some surprise that he doesn’t feel the need to let go, then startles ever so slightly when he realises yihan doesn’t make any move to break the hold either. blinking once or twice, he glances shortly up at the priest again before deciding to take his good fortune as it comes to him.

and hopes at the same time that somehow his presence might be a soothing thing for yihan as well. that maybe when he will look up again in an undefined amount of time, that earlier expression will be nowhere to be found on the priest’s face, and his heartstrings will know their peace as well.

it’s the last conscious thought he has before he’s staring off into nothingness again, basking in the quiet around them as well as inside of him.

eventually it’s yihan again who pulls him back to reality, although he doesn’t think the priest has said anything whatsoever. but with quiet contemplation, henry still turns back to him anyway, looking at the other male for a moment before leaning in. his head comes to a rest atop yihan’s shoulder gently, his eyes closing almost automatically as a complete and utter serenity descends upon him.

“i’m tired.” the two words are spoken softly, henry nearly breathing them out as the tense set of his shoulders finally eases out completely. when yihan’s reply of ‘me too’ reaches his ears, a chuckle is pulled from him, bubbling over his lips in a softer variation as he buries his face against the priest’s shoulder for a moment.

“idiot,” is the first word he speaks, fondness clearly audible in the tone of his voice, his hold on the priest’s hand momentarily tightening. soon, he’s enveloped in the rich scent unique to the priest. a combination of things he doesn’t know how to identify and which he has merely come to know as yihan. a scent he’s also come to appreciate, to like even, and which he now feels reluctant to pull away from. “you smell nice.”

‘audrey spilled that sweetened milky drink on me?’ is what yihan questions him and henry can only smile warmly, fondly, nuzzling the priest’s shoulder for a moment before straightening up again. “i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replies honestly, calmly moving to get up. “let’s go to sleep.”

as if with a mind of their own, his fingers still refuse to let go of yihan’s hand, even if it makes it all the harder to get up from his seated position on the narrow ledge. but he manages somehow, then waits for yihan to get up as well.

and in the dim lit anonymity of the cargo bay ledge, he leans up to leave a chaste little kiss on the corner of the other male’s mouth.

“let’s take your bed this time, my quarters are too close to the noise.” it’s half a question, half a statement, but he’s still glad when yihan starts to walk. even more so when he finds their fingers still laced and neither of them putting in any effort to undo it. in fact, he tries his best to make sure they stay that way, the entire time. it’s only when they make it to yihan’s quarters that he finally lets go - but only to be able to take off the right amount of clothes to be able to crawl into the bed.

it’s strange how comfortable he is. how easily he crawls under the blanket then waits for the priest to join him. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to question all of it that they’re doing, simply waits for yihan to get under the blanket too so he can sidle closer, put an arm over the priest’s middle and settle his head somewhere atop yihan’s chest, right under his chin.

his fingers automatically start tracing an absentminded pattern on the priest’s skin, his eyes closing as he focuses all his attention on the sound of yihan’s heartbeat beneath his ear. the steady rhythm works almost like the voice of his mother singing lullabies used to do once upon a time, soothing him and easing him gently into the arms of a peaceful sleep.

‘you smell good too. better than milky sweet drink. i mean, not to say that all things don’t have special scents. yours is just, well, pleasant like water and pines in summer heat.’

the words rouse him from his drowsiness slightly, but he doesn’t tilt his head to look at the taller male. he’s too cosy and warm to move much at all, really. “yours smells like you. it’s pleasant as well. like you,” he responds, gently continuing the stroking of his fingers as he allows a little smile to appear on his face. he’s happy with the compliment - as well as with the knowledge that there is something yihan likes about him.

“i’m sorry you were uncomfortable,” he mutters then, a half-thought as he thinks back to that expression on yihan’s face back in the mess hall. it already seems so long ago since he was in the middle of that chaos, now that he remembers nothing but quiet and calm, yihan’s hand in his, the scent, sight and sound of him all that his senses can register anymore.

in a lazy movement, he tilts his head to the side a little without opening his eyes, leaving another soft kiss on the small patch of skin at the base of yihan’s throat. “i hope you feel better now.” another mutter, quiet and content, sleepiness already seeping into his voice, his fingers’ pattern coming to a slow halt as he sinks away into the hold of a comfortable sleep, brought on by the combination of warmth and the sound of yihan’s heartbeat under his ear.

whatever he still meant to say is lost on the world as he fully succumbs before the thought can be properly voiced aloud, and all that leaves his lips is a mumble akin to “i hmm buh.”

#syxyihan #¤wavelength #¤zenith #(( hope this makes you smile ♥#(( 2248 words for you #(( please take them #(( and be happy #(( ♥

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 7 years

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Can you write a fic if Leo didn't set up the helicopter for Donna that Christmas. And Josh tries to make it up to Donna... Thanks!

This was such an inspiring prompt, anon! The story ended up much longer than I planned. Thank you for it.

What if there had never been a helicopter? J/D “Holy Night” AU, also on AO3.

“What’s that doing in there? We can’t have mistletoe in the West Wing. It’s a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen.”

“There you are.” Josh found Donna with the Whiffenpoofs as they were being guided out of the White House. “Leo and the President changed their minds. We’re waiting until after the holidays on infant mortality.”

“Oh. Okay.” She gazed out at the falling snow from where they stood in the lobby.

Donna’s distant tone was unsettling, making him trip over his tongue. “Hey, look. This is…I know it sucks. I wish–I’m sorry. Leo was gonna try to find you another way to the inn, but it’s just too rough out there.”

“That’s a sweet thought, anyway,” she replied, still watching the storm. “I’ll have to thank him.”

“I wasn’t kidding before,” he told her, hoping to snap her out of her funk. “Those of us who are stranded tonight have very big plans. Snowmen, pizza, alcohol. It’s no chalet, but it’ll be a good time.”

Cold air blew in as a few staffers exited. She hugged herself a little before offering him a smile. “Sounds like quite the Christmas.”

“It’ll be better with you. Come join the party.” He took her arm and tugged her back in the direction of the bullpen.

The place was dark, the other staffers missing. “They must have already started building the snowmen,” he decided. “Wanna go outside and help, or wait in the Briefing Room for the awards ceremony?”

“There’s going to be an awards ceremony?”

“Well, I only just came up with that, but yeah. Why not.” He couldn’t help it; he liked the way she looked puzzled but perked up a little at the silly idea.

“I’d rather stay inside,” Donna decided.

“Then we’ll wait.”

On their way past CJ’s office, Josh came to a sudden stop.

“What’s that doing in there? We can’t have mistletoe in the West Wing. It’s a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen.”

She peered up at the cheerful sprig hanging just inside the Press Secretary’s doorway. “Nobody knows for sure, but the grapevine says Toby put it up to get a rise out of CJ for exactly that reason.”

Josh smirked. Despite his dour reputation, of course it would be Toby pulling that kind of stunt. It was exactly his sense of humor. “Yeah, okay. Why hasn’t she taken it down?”

“Rumor has it that she’s figured out his master plan and refuses to give him the satisfaction of a response.”

He looked at it a moment longer, then shrugged and moved on. Not his problem tonight.

“So,” he told her on their way, “they’ll bring in their snowmen and get them set up for the photoshoot–and I think we should have the award categories all ready to surprise them with. It’ll give us something to do while we wait.”

“Okay.” She grabbed a notepad and pen and took them with her to a seat when they arrived in the Briefing Room, looking at him expectantly. “Shoot.”

“Me first?” His deer-in-headlights panic was too cute. She grinned, tapping the the pen against the pad and waiting.

“Um. Alright. Well. Obviously we need ‘best overall’ winners. Top three?”

Donna nodded, writing it down.

“And we should have ‘closest resemblance to a staffer,’ Josh said wickedly, making her smile again.

“Most peculiar,” Donna added. “Quickest and slowest melters.”

“Love it.” He sat down next to the podium, watching her write. “Best use of accessories.”

They heard the commotion before people began trickling in, carrying toddler-sized snowmen. Donna left her chair and sat next to Josh, out of the way of staffers who were claiming press seats and chattering about their creations.

“Do you want to tell them about the contest or should I?”

“Well, it was your idea.”

“Fair enough.” He stood up. “Hey! We’re gonna vote on winners, you guys.”

To their credit, the scattering of people who had stuck around accepted the news without question. After a beat, Josh looked down at Donna. “Tell them the categories.”

She read off the list, and he continued. “I figured we could all get a look at the contenders while everybody takes pictures, and then we’ll vote by a show of hands. Sound good?”

The nods and murmurs were in agreement, so Josh sat back down. Donna stayed where she was, and he turned her way. “You’re not gonna check out the snowmen?”

“Just waiting to avoid the rush.” Lost in thought, her demeanor was glum again.

He put a friendly arm around her, watching people talk and laugh while they circled the press seating. “You know,” he said, eyes fixed ahead, “I’m glad you’re here. It wouldn’t be as fun without you.”

She leaned into him a little before standing, her face slightly flushed as she examined the snow display.

Josh waited until she had finished looking before he raised his voice to get everyone’s attention. “All right. Let’s start with the special categories.”

Donna joined him back at the podium to read them off, and the votes went swiftly. Each winning artist got a round of applause from their peers. As the ceremony finished up, CJ came in and pretended to be annoyed at their presence before touring the winners’ row.

“Donna!” Reaching the podium, CJ greeted her with a hug when she saw her. “I’m sorry about your Christmas getting ruined.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at the contest winners who were getting themselves photographed with their creations, and Josh caught her eye. He smiled, a quick flash before one of the junior staffers asked him a question and he turned away. “But it’s looking up.”

“Well, that’s good news. Speaking of which, now that everybody’s done getting snow all over my room, we’re going to grab a drink. You coming?”

“Yeah. Josh said the Hawk and Dove?”

“That’s the plan.”

“I’m in. Oh–I left my coat in the bullpen,” Donna remembered. “You guys go on. I’ll share a cab with somebody.”

“Hey…be a pal and grab the blue folder off my desk?” CJ asked hopefully. “Danny needs it, but as soon as I head in there, I have to get back to work. I want a little more Christmas first.”

“Sure.” Donna took a last look at the melting shapes behind her and left the Briefing Room.

Bundled up again in the empty West Wing, she headed for CJ’s desk, where she found no folders, blue or otherwise.

Sighing, she was halfway out the door when Josh nearly ran into her on his way in.

“Oh, hey! CJ remembered the folder was in the second drawer, and sent me to tell you. I assume you know what folder she’s talking about.”

“Yeah.”

Josh brushed past her, letting the door shut behind him, and opened the drawer.

“So, what exactly are we looking for?”

“Blue one. She said it’s for Danny.”

“Okay…” After a moment of flipping through files, he grinned. “Got it. Good thing CJ’s such a compulsive labeler.”

She wouldn’t have been able to explain why it was that moment that set her off. Something in his smile, maybe. The smug tone he employed way too often that should annoy her to no end but that just caused…another feeling entirely. She was stuck at work on Christmas and tired of dancing around the truth.

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m still waiting for an explanation.”

“For what?” He shut the drawer and stood up, folder in hand.

“What you said about tonight. Some reason I’d think you would keep me here.”

“We should get this back to CJ.” Moving out from the desk, Josh tried to leave the office, evading her the way he avoided her gaze–and the question.

But when Donna stood her ground, he found himself toe-to-toe with her in front of CJ’s door. Demanding answers, her blue eyes were lake-deep in the dim light. He felt himself falling into them, a dizzying sensation.

Looking up, away, to pull himself out of the dangerous spiral and get back on solid ground, Josh realized they were standing under the mistletoe. Fate, thought a part of his brain he usually ignored.

It was too easy to shift toward her, letting the quiet and dark protect them from the rest of the office. Somehow it made perfect sense to let his breath mingle with hers, feeling the thunder of his heartbeat, while he waited for her response.

Her gaze flicked down to his mouth and back up, but she didn’t pull away. Like gravity, so slowly it hurt, he gave in to an eternity of waiting and brushed her lips with his.

Donna held herself perfectly still, as though she might shatter, and absorbed the gut punch of it. Here was her explanation. And a hope she had refused to ever entertain.

She’d had to admit her feelings to herself when Josh was shot, but she didn’t need his Harvard education to have a keen awareness of office–and political–politics. This was never supposed to happen.

He was impulsive, he wore his heart on his sleeve and in those puppy dog eyes, and it was up to her to rein him in. That was her job.

Her job. God, what were they doing?

His mouth brushed hers a second time, just as lightly, teasingly, and she closed her eyes, forgetting the rest of her inner lecture. This kiss was a question, a test, and it shot through her like electricity.

When she kissed him back, their lips parting in unison, it felt as though the whole world stopped for one long, perfect moment.

Then he reached a hand up to her face, returning her to reality. Her crash landing was met by him watching her through his unusually long lashes.

“Hi,” Josh said quietly. As she just stared, he began to worry, searching her clouded eyes for a clue.

“Donna?”

“We’re insane,” she whispered. Shifting back a little, she raised her voice to its normal level. “That must be it. We’ve gone crazy, because the holidays are a very stressful time and both the President and Leo were piling on to you today, and when you have too much on your plate it affects me, so it was just too much and we weren’t thinking and it landed us here.”

Normally he would sit back and enjoy her unspooling, but Josh had a feeling that as soon as the sanctuary of CJ’s empty office was broken, whatever was happening between them would fade along with it, and she was bound to call attention to them if she kept going.

So this time, he kissed her to shut her up.

She sank into it before pulling away. “And Jack! I have a boyfriend. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Now he sounded offended, and so petulant Donna had to fight back the urge to laugh.

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” Josh added. He looked up over their heads, waiting until she did the same. “It was just a kiss under the mistletoe. If you want, we can blame Toby.”

She did laugh then, resting a hand against his chest as she imagined that scenario playing out.

He kept his voice light, focused on reassuring her instead of his own feelings. “Just a Christmas fluke, okay? No big deal.”

“Right.” She should have thought of that, Donna realized. Normally she would have been the first to brush it off as a friendly exchange, the way she’d always handled the intimacy of their working relationship. “So, we should get back.”

Josh nodded. “Yeah.”

“Time for alcohol and merriment.” Striving for simplicity, she straightened his collar and opened the door. There was no one in the bullpen–or, it seemed, the entire West Wing–as they left.

His hand at the small of her back while they exited the building was something that had happened hundreds of times before, but it felt more significant now. Everything did. The silence between them in the cab was loaded, their fingers almost touching on the seat.

When they arrived, CJ and the others were already there, drinking and laughing over the crowd while they waited on food. The Hawk and Dove wasn’t exactly known for its ambiance, but it was an excellent staffer hideaway, and it had been Josh’s suggestion because it was near Donna’s apartment. He figured the last thing she needed on top of her ruined plans was a difficult trek home.

They took the booth seat CJ had saved, and Donna saw the careful distance Josh kept between them as he sat. Had he always done that, or was she just noticing it now?

It was a fairly useless gesture, a few inches of space that didn’t ease the tension for either of them. Josh was tapping his fingers on the table like a hyperactive kid while he waited for his beer, and Donna’s smile was over-bright, trying too hard to seem normal. CJ teased Josh about his antsy behavior, raising her eyebrows when Donna didn’t join in, or even seem to notice what she’d said.

Drinks in hand, the energy between them only grew. The others were talking about presents, the storm, their New Year’s plans, but Josh and Donna were in their own little bubble of unspoken thoughts and needs.

What was he thinking? Donna wondered. No matter what he said about the power of mistletoe, how were they supposed to go back to work as though everything was normal?

She was going to jet off to Lieutenant Commander Cheekbones as soon as the weather cleared, Josh thought. How could she move on like nothing happened?

“Food!” The group cheered when the pizza arrived, reaching over each other to grab slices from the deep dish pan. The greasy bar food was always good at the Hawk and Dove, but Donna couldn’t work up much of an appetite. She had kissed somebody else.She felt awful.

It wasn’t like she and Jack had agreed to be exclusive yet, but she also knew for a fact that he was uneasy about her and Josh. It was in his tone when her work came up: Jack thought there was more than a working relationship between them from the start.

She considered herself lucky he had yet to be direct about it; she was a terrible liar, and what could she honestly say? Even before the kiss, could she have looked him in the eye and said “Of course there are no feelings there”?

Maybe Josh was right, she decided, watching him eat like he didn’t have a care in the world. The kiss didn’t change anything. It was what the kiss meant, what it forced her to acknowledge. She could be dating the best guy in the world and he still wouldn’t be right…because he wouldn’t be Josh.

Josh ate mechanically, hoping nobody would notice that he and Donna could barely look at each other. The only choice he had was to let it go and move on-or really, move back, to before. But he didn’t know how.

He’d been lost since the day they met, her hair falling over her face as she answered his phones, making her look so young–until she challenged him, her fierce, stubborn eyes pinning him in place. “Why can’t it be those things?”

He could feel it then, the approaching danger, that he was in over his head…but giving in had been one of the best decisions he’d ever made. She was essential to his office, to the White House itself. So what if sometimes it hurt, being around her and not touching her? So what if sometimes she looked at him with those big doe eyes and he knew she felt the same way?

They were doing important work under President Bartlet. He knew how hard it was for the First Family; he’d seen what happened between Leo and Jenny. He wasn’t ready to risk it, so he’d been careful. Maybe he couldn’t avoid mocking her terrible taste in men, maybe he was openly possessive and jealous at times–maybe he was scared–but he only had so much self-control and he used it up on the fine line where their banter met their affection.

Well, that was then. It had been five years since Josh gained a coworker who felt like trouble whenever their eyes met for too long, and now he wasn’t sure how to talk to her, work with her, do all of the small casual things that made them them, without remembering her mouth heating up against his.

“This is silly,” Donna muttered under her breath, setting her half-eaten second slice aside. The others were arguing about policy for the new year, buzzed enough to enjoy lifting the wordless no-business-at-the-party agreement.

CJ was advocating for a National Rudolph Day–”He was a victim of bullying!”–and it wasn’t clear if she was messing with them, but the debate was heated.

"How could it be anything but silly?” Josh replied. “They’re fighting over a fictional reindeer.”

“Not that.” Donna rolled her eyes. Leaning in close, she murmured, “The other thing. You know.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “Silly how?”

“We probably shouldn’t discuss it here.” Her breath was tickling his ear; he had to agree it wasn’t the most productive venue.

“I’ll get the next round,” Josh announced, knowing he wouldn’t need to give her a nudge or a hint. Donna always knew.

“I’ll go with,” she declared.

“Okay, but that’s it for me,” CJ told the group. “One more and then I have to get back to my office.” The halfhearted groans followed Josh and Donna as they made their way to the bar.

“Spill it,” he said as soon as they were out of earshot.

“It’s ridiculous that we’re pretending nothing happened,” she told him.

He signaled to the bartender, who started working on the drinks. “How is it ridiculous? It seems like our best–hell, our only option.”

Josh couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Anyway, isn’t that what you wanted us to do? After all, you have a boyfriend. Remember Jack?”

She looked away, struck.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, and she looked back at him, eyes shimmering.

“No, you’re right. I just thought…I don’t know what I was thinking.” Shaking her head, she willed the tears away. Stupid.

It was always with Donna that he risked losing his temper and lashing out. He hated that, because she was delicate in places and he cared so much that sometimes it came out in ‘jerk.’

“No,” he said again, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“That’s not true.”

She eyed him skeptically as their drinks were brought over. “Oh really? When was the last time you said something and you didn’t mean it?”

Caught, Josh looked flustered. “When I said tonight was just a Christmas fluke,” he admitted, staying by the bar instead of grabbing the tray.

Her eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t lying. It was Josh; she could tell the difference.

So if tonight mattered to both of them…if tonight changed things for both of them…what did that mean?

They carried the drinks back in silence. The rest of their little group was winding down, either growing quiet and contemplative like them or too caught up in individual conversation to keep up the party.

“You heading home?” Josh asked her when she finished her drink. “I could walk you.”

“Um. Sure. That’d be nice,” she said, trying not give away how happy the idea made her.

He smiled at CJ and waited while Donna slid out of the booth. “Try not to work too hard tonight, okay? I’ll be back in the West Wing after I see Donna home, if you need me.”

CJ nodded, sipping her last beer next to where he stood.

“Here.” He helped Donna into her coat.

“Thanks,” she murmured after turning around, eyes locked on his.

Maybe he lingered just a little longer than necessary, lifting her hair off her neck to tug it free of the collar, his fingers brushing her bare skin–but he didn’t mean to attract attention.

“Get a room,” a stranger joked as he squeezed by them.

CJ grabbed Josh by the end of his loosened tie to get his attention. “Do not get a room.” She never missed a beat. He wondered what–and how–she knew about tonight.

“No idea what you’re getting at,” he replied with measured casualness. “I’m just walking Donna home.”

“Josh…”

“CJ. It’s Donna.”

“Exactly.”

He couldn’t quite keep the whine out of his voice. “CJ…”

Relenting, she set her beer aside to half-hug him. “Just be careful, mi amor. You get a little sloppy when you’re drunk.”

“Not drunk.” He kissed her cheek. “Promise.”

Josh turned to Donna. “Ready?”

“Yep. See you,” she said to CJ without making eye contact, knowing the glint she would see in her friend’s eye.

The air was icy when they stepped outside, the night sky still clouded. Josh waited until they had almost reached her building before risking conversation in the cold. “It wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“What?” She turned to face him as they arrived at her place.

“Your night. As consolation prizes go, you got to hang out with your friends, you got snowmen and other festivities, along with beer and pizza. I mean, I know it wasn’t what you wanted, but…” He looked at her through his lashes, like someone afraid of hope. “But it wasn’t terrible. Right?”

“No. No, Josh, it wasn’t terrible.” That little boy softness that he carried around his mouth and eyes always tugged at her heart. She took a step toward him, offering him a smile. “It was nice.”

“I’m glad.” His relief was palpable, as though he felt like her potentially ruined holiday would be on him.

Silence stretched out between them, somehow both awkward and comfortable, while it started to snow again.

“So, thanks for walking me home,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “I should probably get inside.”

“Right. Right! It’s cold out,” he agreed, as though he’d only just realized that fact. “You should head up.”

He leaned in, and she stepped forward, so that they could hug goodbye.

How was it that they always fit so perfectly? He rested his face in the curve of her neck, both of them remembering a similar Christmas moment that was so long ago it could’ve been from another lifetime.

Back then, it was easy to be affectionate without making more out of it. Now, her hands curled around his back, then moved up to his shoulders, holding on.

Getting this close was a mistake. He was the one who retreated first, reluctantly, their cheeks bumping as he did.

Their mouths were so close for a fraction of a second that it made her ache. Her fingers flexed on his shoulders. All she wanted to do was close the distance again. She knew exactly how it would feel; how he would touch her hair, his warm eyes open and watching her.

Instead, Josh’s eyes were closed as he moved away. The effort that it took was etched across his face.

No, they couldn’t go back.

“Have a good night, Josh,” Donna said, sighing. “I’d better go. I have to call Jack.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. There’s a conversation we need to have that he’s not going to like very much.”

Josh froze. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded, her smile a little shy around the edges. Donna was brave enough to have hired herself onto a presidential campaign full of strangers; he couldn’t remember her ever looking shy before. It made him feel better, since he was terrified about what came next.

“Well, I’m gonna head back to the White House. Leo’s spending the night on the phone and I said I’d help out. I guess…he and I need to have a conversation, too.”

“Okay.” She took his hand, just to squeeze it, then left.

He waited until she was halfway up the stairs, knowing it would be hard to say it to her face, and impossible to stop touching her if he started. “Hey, Donna.”

She turned back. “Yes, Josh?”

“I’m really glad you got stuck here tonight.”

He watched her eyes light up as the falling snow swirled between them.

“Me too.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” She ducked her head, grinning as she shut the door.

Humming a festive tune, Josh turned and walked back in the direction of the Hawk and Dove, hailing the next cab he saw.

“The White House, thanks.”

He caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror of the slightly besotted look on his face. “And a happy New Year,” Josh sang softly, deciding to thank Toby personally for the mistletoe.

#josh x donna #tww #tww fanfic #josh x donna fanfic #holy night au #josh x donna fic #josh x donna fanfiction #the west wing #the west wing fanfic #the west wing fanfiction #the west wing fic #my fic

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