#and I immediately squealed in delight IT'S CHRISTMAS

[disappearinginq]

Went to something called Scream Fest at our local-ish amusement park, which involved a haunted house or four.

Accidentally got an actor to break character because I wasn't looking at her face but at her dress and immediately yelled "oh my GOD, I love your dress!" (neon glow in the dark polka dots in 40's vintage style) And she did a quick "thanks, it has pockets!" demo swish, and that's when I realized she was missing half her face (make up) and tried to apologize for fucking up the vibe and that's when our group got run over by a bunch of teens that were being pursued by a ventriloquist doll.

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 9]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

ferocious and stubborn as an ox

cw: period talk, fluff

wc: 4.8k

Just as promised, Simon picks you up the following afternoon. 

Jack Frost paid you a visit last night, leaving intricate, swirling designs on your windows, casting the grey cityscape beyond your apartment in prismatic light. It diffuses your vision to the point that you don’t recognize Simon when he pulls up, unfamiliar with his car, and you nearly jump out of your skin when he knocks on the door. Shoulders scrunching, muscles tensing; you turn to the door with a grunt as your cramps jolt through your body. They’re worse today than they were yesterday. They always seem to grow more intense with time, but it’s a familiar pain you know how to push through. 

Shouldering on a coat, you open the door only to be immediately scrutinized under Simon’s gaze. Dark eyes flicker over your body, checking for dark circles, perspiration, and general fragility. Though you are loads better than when he saw you last week, you’re certain your crossed arms and the slight hunching over your stomach isn’t convincing. Judging by the tight line of his lips, he’s not entirely impressed. 

Mustering a smile, you glance behind him, prodding him into action. “Hey. Ready to head out?” 

He hums before nodding, boots clomping against the floor as he moves out of the way. “Got the car all warmed up for ya, sweetheart.” 

London looks magical around this time of year, especially from the passenger's seat of Simon’s car. Warm white lights twist up the trunk of every tree, spiraling along branches where stray snowflakes glint in their glory. Evergreen garland adorns street lights with faux holly and winter berries, giving your eyes a break from the otherwise barren concrete jungle. It’s beautiful. Picture perfect. Something you’d expect to see on a postcard or in a movie. Glass fogs up with your breath as you lean closer to get a better look at the streets. 

With only one more week until Christmas, the pavement bustles with last minute shoppers. Children in too-large coats and fluffy caps trot behind their parents as they squeal in delight at window displays in flashy shops. The holiday has a way of illuminating everything. Casting a warm, yellow glow on the wonderstruck faces peering through the glass. Bathing the streets until they’re lively and buzzing. Banishing the gloom of the city — you almost don’t recognize the streets. 

Of course, the grey is always there underneath the surface somewhere. Lurking with sharp, nefarious tendrils, waiting to smother anything it can. For the moment, at least, it’s nice to pretend that it’s gone forever. 

Once Simon finds a place to park, you’re able to step out into that wonderland yourself. A soft breeze nips at the tips of your ears and nose, rubbing them raw with crystalline shards like sandpaper across your skin, but you ignore it in favor of the toy shop display flashing through the window. A model train travels through a tiny village dusted with cotton-like snow. Tiny villagers go about their tiny lives as they attend church and visit family or throw snowballs at one another. Each of them are hand painted with care, complete with rosy cheeks and colorful winter attire. 

Simon’s reflection dances in the glass as he approaches your side, looking down at the scene you can’t help but gawk at. His arm brushes against yours as he inspects the paintwork on the figurines, and you glance up at him with a smile. His face glows in the light bringing his skin to life, scars and all. It casts shadows on his face perfectly, defining the curve of his jaw and his cheekbones.

Swallowing, you turn your attention back to the scene in front of you. “I wish it would snow more in London.” 

He hums, feet shuffling on the pavement. “Would be a lot of shoveling.” 

“Well, it wouldn’t have to snow a whole lot,” you chuckle. “Just enough to stick around. Thick enough to make snow angels out of.” 

You pause to watch the train travel through the tunnel. A small light fixed to the front of the locomotive cuts through the darkness, and you watch it grow brighter as it nears the exit. In your head, you imagine its whistle. The huff and puff of smoke as the engine burns coal to transport presents. You smile. 

“My dad and I used to make frost angels instead. The grass at the park would always glisten with frost, especially in the mornings, so we’d lay in the field and make angels.” You laugh at the memory as a fit of giggles erupts behind you, children passing through with toys in hand. For a moment, you almost feel warm. “They never looked really pretty, but he’d always finish them off with halos anyway.” 

“Could always blend up some ice for ya,” he patronizes. 

You mock laugh at him. “Oh sure, thanks. Think you can get all of London covered by Christmas?” 

“Anythin’ for you, sweetheart.” 

Ignoring the way your cheeks warm at his comment, you quickly change the subject, suggesting that you get to shopping before you freeze to death. Thankfully, Simon bites and leads you inside of the toy shop where you’re welcomed by a jovial clerk with a kind smile. A green elf hat sits on his head, leaving the children nearby to gawk at him. Christmas music plays softly through the radio on the back counter and it fades in and out as you wander between shelves where spiced cinnamon and pumpkin wafts just behind you. 

A variety of toys adorn the aisles, but Simon appears to be on a mission for something in specific. He completely bypasses the frilly princess costumes, fancy dolls, action figures  and crafts supplies in favor of toy cars and model ships. They’re cute; impossibly small. Made perfectly for little hands and fingers. 

Then you make the mistake of looking at the price tags. 

There’s a special aesthetic that surrounds this time of year. Something beautiful and kind. It’s the type of feeling that tugs on heartstrings, drawing people into warm embraces with hearty meals and laughter. It makes you feel at home even when you’re far from it. Despite it all, there’s always going to be something that’ll separate you from everyone else. You’ll never be the one bringing home gifts to family members. Never be the one to splurge. Each year you can hardly scrounge up enough to give Row something. Hell, you’re not even sure if you’ll have enough to buy the sanitary products you so desperately need. 

Then again, it’s not like you have much family left to buy gifts for. 

“What kind of present are you looking for?” Push it out of your mind. You can’t mope forever. 

“Somethin’ my nephew’s been wantin’ for a bit. He’s been talkin’ his parents ear off ‘bout it for the last few months,” Simon replies, eyes scanning the shelf in front of him. He hums as his fingers ghost over the box to a model plane. “Been obsessed with planes lately.” 

“Nephew?” you repeat. “So you have siblings, then?” 

“A brother. Thomas. Everyone calls ‘im Tommy. I like to call him a pain in the arse,” he humors. 

Chuckling, you crouch down to assist Simon’s search for the perfect gift for his nephew. The movement, curling in on yourself, temporarily eases the cramps that still fester deep in your abdomen, and you sigh. No matter how little the reprieve is, it’s always welcome. 

“Big or little brother, then?” you ask. 

“Older. Certainly not bigger than me.” 

“Yeah, figure it’s pretty hard to be bigger than you.”

Falling quiet, you put in more effort into searching through eye-catching toys flashy enough to steal away any child’s attention. They’ve got everything from small sets made out of metal, to build-your-own models. It’s certainly fancier than anything you remembered from when you were a kid, but it’s also been ages since you’ve last visited a toy store. 

“Oh, this is cute!” you coo. 

Your hands reach out for a large box padded with smooth cardboard. For its size, it’s incredibly light, so it’s easy work to slide it off of the shelf. A precious, design it yourself RC plane, complete with paint and all. The box depicts what you assume is supposed to be father and son, painting designs on the body of the plane together. 

You hold the box up for Simon to see, giving it a little shake. “Look, he could design his own little plane!” 

Simon’s eyes widen in recognition as you straighten yourself out, box still in hand. “That’s it.” 

Holding it out for him to take, he relieves you of carrying its weight. Large hands flip the box around, reading the description on the back. He smirks, then chuckles before shaking his head. 

“As seen on TV,” he quotes. “They play the commercial for this between his favorite cartoons. Been begging his mum for it ever since.” 

“What’s his name?” you ask. 

“Joseph.” 

Before you have the chance to comment further, Simon slides the box underneath his arm while his free hand retrieves his phone. The screen flickers on, casting a dim glow on his face as he flicks through applications. 

When he turns it in your direction, you’re met with a half fuzzy photo of a young boy and a woman. They’re outside, sitting in a pile of leaves, their dying colors of red and yellows vibrantly declaring the autumn season. A few torn leaves stick to the boy’s bright blonde hair as he attempts to shove a fistful of them into the woman's hair. They don’t quite stick to her copper locks, but she grins at him anyway. With bright blue eyes and beautiful smiles, they’re near carbon copies of one another. 

“Tom sent me this a few months back. That’s little Joey there, and his mum, Beth,” Simon shares. 

“He’s adorable,” you coo. “How old is he?” 

The very moment Simon answers, an unforgiving contraction rips through your abdomen. Muscles cramping and tightening, pulling so taut you fear they’ll tear each other apart. In a pitiful attempt to soothe yourself, your hand presses right above where your uterus is wreaking havoc on your body. With enough pressure, you’re sure you can phase through your organs. Reach into yourself and remove the nuisance and go on with your life. Instead, you fight back a grimace. 

No matter how hard you try, you’re unable to hide such vicious pain from Simon. He catches on quickly. Sniffs it out like a cadaver dog. His phone shuts off yet stays firmly in his palm as he presses the back of his hand against your forehead. Taken aback, you stare up at him, mouth trying to form words, yet nothing falls from your lips. There’s something about this touch that feels familiar. Something that leaves you feeling empty when he moves his hand away. 

“Sure you’re feelin’ alright?” he asks. “Still a little warm. Don’t look like you’re feelin’ too good, sweetheart.” 

Maybe it’s due to what your body has been going through as of late, or maybe it’s because of the way he’s looking at you, but your mouth grows dry. Like a desert. Devoid of the oasis of words you so desperately need. There’s no use in beating around the bush — or at least, you try to tell yourself as much — you’ve followed him out here for a reason.

“Yeah I’m just… you know. On my menses,” you explain, trying to make it humorous but it sounds more awkward than anything. “That’s, uh, one of the reasons I came with you today. Was sorta hoping I could drop by the pharmacy to pick some stuff up.” 

You were hoping the concern etched into his face would melt away with your explanation, but if anything, it only gets worse. “You shoulda said something. Would’ve dropped by there first.” 

“It’s no big deal,” you attempt to assure. “I mean, it’s not like this stuff goes away with a magic medication or something.” 

God, you wish it would. A simple pop of a pill and a quick nap to have this all fade away sounds heavenly. It would save you from the odd look Simon gives you as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve made him uncomfortable. Some men get… squeamish around that type of talk. You have a very vivid memory shoved in the back of your mind of one of the cooks getting on Bee for walking in the restaurant with a box of tampons. She told them off with a bravery you could only dream of mustering, and they haven’t mentioned anything since, but the image of their tense faces is forever burned into your mind. 

You wonder if it’s the blood or the body it comes from that disgusts them so much. 

“C’mon,” Simon urges as he nods towards the end of the aisle. “Should be a pharmacy on the end of the block.” 

“But what about presents for your family?” you ask. 

“This was the last thing I was lookin’ for. Everythin’ else is already covered,” he assures you. “We’ll go up and pay and get you what you need, yeah?”

If there is one thing that you’ve learned about Simon Riley over the last few months, it’s that he’s a force to be reckoned with. Of course, you’ve known this fairly early on. You’ve known as much since the moment he taught you how to shoot pool, hands firm and unwavering against yours. It’s a force that evolves. One that shows its teeth — ones sharp enough to send a man as terrifying as Andrei whimpering and running for the hills. 

You wonder if he brings that same heat to John’s establishment. Doing grunt work in the club, fighting off men gathering around the innocent like flies drawn to rot and decay. How often have those teeth been redirected at him, causing the puffy scars that trace the features of his nose and jaw? Are his claws only razors because someone else sharpened them for him? 

Too many times have you seen men like Simon deteriorate. Shatter and become nothing but self-centered beasts who don’t fear spilling blood. Strength and power corrupts even the kindest of people — turns humans into monsters; into men like Marco. Simon should terrify you, but he doesn’t. 

You don’t fully realize why that is until you reach the pharmacy

Even with your obvious apprehension about him accompanying you inside, he does anyway. Doesn’t flinch at the hygiene products. Watches intently as you peruse, counting numbers in your head and quids in your hand. It’s that counting game again. Barely scraping by — not having enough to buy supplies that’ll last you more than a few days, forever stuck with travel sized versions of what you require. When he catches on to that frustrated expression on your face, he insists on paying for you. 

“Not gonna let you go without what’cha need. These prices are robbin’ you blind,” he says when you try to argue. 

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” you retort, guilt eating you alive. 

“I’m not buyin’ you a pony here, sweetheart. They’re pads and tampons. Necessities.”

Stubborn as an ox, he doesn’t budge. He’s perseverant, and certainly has more stamina than you. Saving yourself from any further embarrassment, you finally allow it. You’ll just have to buy him something another time. He carries the items up himself, sneaking some over the counter painkillers in his hands in the process. You follow behind him like a wounded animal; or, at least the clerk looks at you as if you are one. Some pathetic, bleeding bitch — it’s like he can smell the blood that stains the insides of your thighs. Shame mixes with the embarrassment in your veins, lighting you on fire until you’re nothing but a boiling mess of a woman. 

Suddenly, the only thing you see is Simon’s back. 

“Get paid to stare or are you gonna ring us up?” he grunts. 

Simon cares ferociously, you realize. That’s why you’re not scared of him. It would be so easy for him to take. To scrape up everything he wants and shove it into his pocket like it’s always belonged to him, but he doesn’t. Simon likes balance. Enjoys peace. When he snarls, it’s with sharp teeth; just enough to get the glares and smirks to dissipate, and when he looks back at you, there is only care. Doesn’t speak about the tally. There are no numbers in the back of his mind. No debt to pay. 

He doesn’t count. He cares because that’s what he wants to do. And if it’s not, then he is the greatest pretender you’ve ever met — second only to yourself. 

You’re able to breathe again the moment you’re back in Simon’s car, seatbelt fastened and supplies in hand. Dusk settles in the sky with a soft lilac hue as you’re taken back home, but the streets do not darken. Christmas joy keeps the pavement illuminated, bright lights diffusing through the window — they almost look like stars. You squint, try to pick out constellations, try to ignore the cramping and humiliation that festers in your stomach. 

“Got plans for Christmas?” 

Neither of you have spoken in so long you nearly jump at the warm baritone resonating in his chest. Glancing at him, you quell your heart as you watch him for a moment. Hands carefully on the wheel, safely maneuvering through traffic, eyes flickering to you for only a moment before they’re back on the road. 

“Oh, uhm, not really. Usually I spend it with Row and John, but they’re headed out of the country for the holiday. My parents passed when I was a kid so… uh, otherwise I think I’ll probably spend it at home? Relax or whatever,” you explain. 

An eternity passes by as you wait for his response. Engine humming, radio playing old Christmas tunes in the background — you know what he’s going to say, and you try not to grimace before the words leave his mouth. 

“I’ve got family in Manchester. My mum’s hostin’ my brother and I for the holiday. You’re more than welcome to join, if you’d like,” he offers. 

Your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh. “You know you don’t… have to do that, right?” you ask. 

“Do what?” he questions, sincere confusion lacing his tone. 

“I know that Row asked you to keep an eye on me. That she’s concerned about me, or whatever. And I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me, truly. But Simon, this is your family. I can’t… barge in. You deserve to spend time with them without having to worry about, you know… me.” 

His head shakes, eyes daring a glance at you as you fiddle with the bag in your lap. “Row isn’t makin’ me do anything. And you’re not bargin’ in if I invite you,” he says. 

Teeth digging into the flesh of your bottom lip, you feel yourself sunder. Long, spiderweb cracks in your foundation, heart pounding so hard you fear it’ll rip itself to shreds. You’re becoming undone in the passenger's seat of a car, and you swear it’ll be the end of you. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not askin’ you because of Row, or anyone else. I’m askin’ because I wanna know if you’ll go to Manchester with me or not. That’s it,” he says. 

Finally, you bring yourself to look at him, anxiety slithering down your throat as you swallow. “Do you… really want me to go?” 

“Course I do. Wouldn’t be askin’ if I didn’t. I’d be chuffed if you did, but it’s up to you.” He pauses as he spares another glance at you. “You can say no.” 

Quiet eudaimonia warms your chest at his words, but you’re not sure which part has done you in. Is it his outspoken wish that you join him? That it’d make him happy if you came along? Or is it his quiet reminder that, despite what he wants, you still have a choice? 

“When would we leave?” you ask. 

“Christmas Eve, most likely. Still got work up until then, and then would have to be back the day after Christmas. It’d be a short trip,” he explains. 

Lungs filling with air, your heart settles as you manage a quiet smile. “Okay. Well… I’d love to meet them. Your family. And it’d be nice not to be alone this Christmas.” 

Simon smiles, and you find yourself staring at him longer than you should because of it. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. He is really… handsome. Ruggedness, scars, crooked nose and all; all his features come together perfectly, as if sculpted by an artist. This is the same man who fought off a blade for you, the man who assured you were safe on several occasions, who refuses to be bashful or stationary when it comes to ensuring your comfort. This is the man who always walks you up the stairs to your apartment, refusing to let you out of his sight until he knows you’re safe in your residence. The man who fixed your door. Your sink. Everything. 

As you say goodnight and reiterate your plans for Christmas, your mind repeats that phrase: Simon Riley cares ferociously. 

Simon Riley cares ferociously about you. 

It continues. Repetitive. Never ending. Not even as Simon vanishes back down the stairs and you shut and lock the door behind him. Not even when you toss yourself face first into your bed, period products discarded on some forgotten counter in your kitchen. Fervid desire swells in your chest to the point you feel yourself about to pop. Explode in a mess of viscera until you’re unrecognizable and it hurts but feels like the closest thing to freedom you’ve ever tasted. 

Something’s gotten into you, surely. Or maybe you’re more sick than you thought. Period hormones wreaking havoc on your psyche. Whatever it is, you realize you haven’t felt this much excitement since you were a kid. 

For the first time in ages, something finally feels like it’s changing for the better. 

When your phone goes off an hour later, you find yourself looking at the screen hoping it’s Simon. You drop everything, pasta nearly boiling over on the stove, just to fetch the device, and you feel your stomach plummet when you see Row’s caller ID instead of his. A palpable tension still stretches between you two since your last conversation. You still taste the bile. That stomach acid and soup. 

Your hand shakes as you press accept and turn the heat down on the burner. “Hello?” 

“Hey,” Row greets. Her voice is soft. Careful. “You sound better than you did last week.” 

“Yeah, feeling a lot better,” you admit. Your laugh is awkward. Tense. You feel like you’re talking to a stranger, and maybe in some way you are. That’s what you’ve been doing — pushing her away, building walls until you’re unrecognizable to one another. Nothing but strangers who’ve known each other for half your lives. 

“Good. That’s good. Hey, uhm…” You brace yourself, eyes shutting as you let steam from the pot brush over your face before she continues. “I wanted to apologize for last week. For… honestly the last few weeks. You’ve… been going through a rough time with work and everything and… what I thought was me being supportive was really just me being a dunce. When I see something I think is a problem, I want to fix it right away, and when I can’t I get frustrated and… and I shouldn’t have said what I said to you the other day. That wasn’t fair to you.” 

Row pauses to clear her throat, but it still takes her a moment before she speaks up again. When she does, you freeze at the tightness of her voice. “I just… it makes me sad thinking about you having to do anything alone a-and I know no one likes unwanted help, least of all you but… just know that I’m here for you. Anything, I swear. Both John and I would move heaven and earth for you.” 

Trembling lips curve into a smile, and when you laugh you’re not sure if it’s out of love, relief, or both. Row falls silent on the other end of the line, trepidation obvious even through the call. 

“You keep saying I’m alone, but I’m not. I have you, silly,” you tease. “I know you’re more of a talker than I am, and you wanna know what’s going on but… that’s just not me. You know that. But just because I’m not sharing my… feelings or whatever, doesn’t mean I’m doing this alone. I have you, and John, and —” and Simon “— and I always have you guys to lean on. I know you feel like you aren’t doing enough, or that you should be doing more, but Row, you’re doing more for me than anyone else in my entire life ever has.” 

A long stretch of silence interrupts the call as you wait for Row to respond, and when she finally does, all she can muster is a quiet: “Oh.” There’s a slightly longer silence before she’s finally able to string the correct words together. “Well, when you put it that way… I sound really stupid.” 

“You have your moments,” you humor. 

A melodic fit of giggles erupts from both you and Row. Sweet, carefree, and loving. You sound like kids again. Gossiping school girls snickering to one another when you shouldn’t be. 

“Well, thanks for helping me get my head on straight, then,” she chuckles. “Really. It’s always nice to know it was worse in my head than it was in real life.”

“I notice things usually are like that,” you quip. 

“Well, I might have gone a little overboard. The idea of you spending Christmas alone still really makes me sad, so I talked to my mum. She said you’re more than welcome to spend the day with her and granny, if you’re needing company,” Row explains. There’s a short pause before she anxiously adds: “You don’t have to go, of course, if you’d rather stay home.” 

There’s another ardent swell that expands in your chest. It travels all throughout your body, synapses tingling, neurons buzzing. Leaning against the counter, you look down at the floor — which could use a good sweep — as your toes wiggle in your slippers. 

“Well, I’ve actually got plans for Christmas now. Simon invited me to go to Manchester for the holiday. We’ll be spending it with his family,” you share. 

An over dramatic gasp crackles through the speaker. “Seriously? You’re not joking? Wait, did you suggest it? Or was he seriously, like, let me take you to Manchester?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” you say with an awkward laugh. “It was… really sweet.” 

“Oh? Sweet, was it?” Row jests. 

What you thought was going to be a quick call consisting of setting scores straight and airing baggage quickly devolves into a childish conversation about a potential relationship with Simon. You have to flip your phone on speaker to finish up dinner, and even then Row persists well after you’ve washed your dishes. 

It is… strange to be having this conversation. Even as a kid, you never pursued any sort of relationship. No one ever caught your eye. Nothing ever sparked what you imagined infatuation would feel like. For a long while, you thought you were broken. Meant to forever go about the world without a partner to crawl next to in bed or someone to make breakfast for. It would have been fine. You’ve gone your entire life so far without that bond. 

But now? Now that it feels so close you can reach out and touch it? You’re too frightened to name it — to call it love — lest you scare it off before you even have the chance to hold it in your hands. 

Eventually the call ends with promises and oaths, each of you swearing to tell one another about your Christmas excursions when Row returns from her trip with John. Lights flicker off as you slip into pajamas, soft cotton warming your skin as you slip under covers. As you lay on your back, eyes bleary as they attempt to focus on the pale ceiling above you, you think of Simon. Fingers itch to reach for your phone, to shoot him a text — to thank him for his kindness today. 

Don’t you remind yourself. Simon is the water you try to cup in your hands. Palms pressed tight together, wrists contorting into the perfect cup — you’ll spill it if you’re not careful. So you close your eyes, and for once you allow yourself to hope. To yearn. You lay there and pray that when Simon thinks of you, his heart beats just as wildly as yours does when you think of him.

[rosedpetal]

For You

Summary: You decide to gift Chase before Christmas.

Pairing: Robert Chase x Reader

Word count: 403

Masterlist

He waited for the coffee machine to fill his cup, a tired sigh leaving his lips. It was freezing today, and he cursed himself for not wearing gloves again before leaving his apartment.

"Morning, sunshine." You chipped, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Robert didn't want to give you a snarky answer so early in the morning, but he was cold, tired, and the damn coffee machine wasn't warming up fast enough. So he just groaned in response, careful not to hurt your feelings.

"Robert? Look at me." You said very quietly and he controlled the urge to roll his eyes, turning to face you, and when he did, he froze. You held a package wrapped in red, a golden bow on it. "This is for you."

Your sheepish smile disarmed him, and he took the gift from your hands, opening it with care. Inside the package, was a pair of wool gloves. "I knitted them myself!"

God, you were adorable. With your cheeks flushed from the cold, your pretty hair in a braid, and your eyes twinkling with anticipation at his reaction. He couldn't help but wrap his arms around you, making you squeal in delight.

It wasn't Christmas, nor his birthday.

He was grateful. But puzzled, at the same time.

"Why?"

Robert has known you for a couple years now since House opened a new spot on his team and immediately took a liking to you with your weird sense of humor, gentle demeanor and humbleness.

"I've seen you try to warm your hands up for the past few days, and I had to do something about it." You explained, a light blush creeping on your cheeks.

Robert considered you carefully, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You have a crush on me."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

You huffed in annoyance.

"You totally have a crush on me!" Robert smirked. "Wow, is it the accent? The hair? The eyes?"

"Gimme my gloves back." You crossed your arms over your chest, a little pout forming in your lips.

"NO." He said, quickly putting your handmade gift on. His heart fluttered at how warm and fuzzy they felt, and he had to fight the urge to pinch your cheeks. "My gloves. Mine."

Your blush deepened, and you immediately took your seat at the table when you spotted House limping his way to the room.

[twice-in-a-blue-moon]

The Brothers Reacting to You in Sexy Christmas Lingerie

Brothers x GN! reader

AN: I'll make one for the dateables soon. Anyways enjoy! :)

Warnings: There's no smut, these are just suggestive.

Minors DNI!

Lucifer

The moment Lucifer enters his study, he sees you sitting on his desk.

He takes note of the skimpy, see-through lingerie that you have on.

The confidence on your face wavers the longer he studies every detail that wraps around your body.

He smirks before making his way to stand in front of you, lifting your chin up so that you can’t shy away from his eyes.

The same eyes that are becoming devoid of the red hues with each passing second.

“Don’t look so nervous, you look wonderful, my dear. What do you say we take this off though, so that I can drag my lips across every inch of your body and appreciate you properly?” 

Mammon

You’re sitting on Mammon’s bed dressed up in your newest purchase, unbeknownst to him.

So when he walks in, he slams the door shut as he notices you.

His eyes widen and aren’t leaving an inch of you unseen.

Now his face matches the color of your outfit.

He tries to save face and clears his throat as he walks over to get a closer look.

He runs a hand down your neck, cold rings leaving goosebumps in their wake, brushing the material that plunges down your chest.

“Damn, y’look good. Did ya buy this just for me? Well then, why don’t I settle the debt right now. I’m all yours.” 

Leviathan

A grumble escapes Levi as a video call interrupts his gaming session, his irritation subsides when he sees that you’re the one calling.

Picking it up immediately, he’s excited to tell you all about the game, wearing a smile as your face pops on screen.

He goes bright red as his eyes trail down your body and notices you’re wearing very little, revealing so much of your soft skin to him.

He tries to hide his face behind his hands, but can’t help but peak through his fingers to get another look at you. 

Something other than his level in the game begins to rise, and he’s feeling incredibly desperate for your touch.

“Y-you’re going to kill me one of these days… Can you come over? I-I really need you right now.”

Satan

Not much phases this man. He will always catch any curve balls you throw at him.

So when he walks into his room to find you kneeling on his bed, he calmly closes the door and admires the view.

The moonlight from the window illuminates your figure, making you look ten times more alluring.

Do not be mistaken though, there is a light pink dusting his cheeks and a ravenous look in his eyes.

He’ll make his way to you, eyeing your curves through the lace while tutting under his breath.

“What am I going to do with you? You’re quite the tease. So maybe I’ll tease you until you’re begging me to take you.” 

Asmodeus

Asmo squeals in delight when he sees you.

He’ll rush over to you, hands touching the fabric that cascades down your body, the soft brush of his skin on yours as he admires every detail.

He cannot believe that he’s found a partner that rivals him in attractiveness.

He absolutely adores you and this little surprise, and it’s all for him!

Next time, he would love to go shopping with you though. The possibilities of seeing you try on different sets and fooling around in the changing rooms are endless.

“Oh my~ This looks absolutely stunning on you. Why don’t we take it off? I’d love to see the rest of you better~”

Beelzebub

Beel walks into the kitchen to raid the fridge, but pauses when he sees you sitting on the counter with your lingerie on.

Visibly and audibly gulps, the lack of material leaving nothing to his imagination.

The look you’re giving him isn’t helping matters, it’s only enticing him more.

He comes to stand in front of you hesitantly, unsure if he can touch you or not.

When you nod and give him the go-ahead, his hands land on your thighs, running dangerously close to where you want him most.

“I came into the kitchen to get food. Lucky me, I think I’ve found myself a full course meal. Please, let me get a taste of you.” 

Belphegor

Somehow you beat him to the attic room, so when he walks in you’re lying on your stomach on the bed.

Takes a moment to appreciate the lace that runs along the swell of your ass.

Takes another to just appreciate how you’re looking at him, eyes hooded and titillating, yet the pinnacle of innocence gracing your lips.

He shakes his head with a small laugh, walking to the side of the bed. 

Belphie crawls on top of you, shifting you to lay on your back. A smirk greeting you as you turn.

“Seeing you in my bed wearing that has stirred something within me. I hope you’re ready because neither one of us is going to be sleeping any time soon.”

[ckiine]

Hello everyone. I am bacckkkk!!!! Sorry for disappearing for such a long time.... Things had been a bit busy at my end.

Here is a shinran short story to cheer you up. Cause I don't know about you guys but I am definitely having shinran withdrawals (I constantly have ShinRan withdrawals).

For all the images used, all the credit goes to the original artists. These are not mine.

So without further ado. Happy reading!

TITLE - Half - Love

"I am in half-love, half-love will be yours."

"With each these halves our love will be fulfilled."

"These small steps will help us cross the miles of a long journey."

.......Ran is humming again.... Conan listened quitely

"Slowly and slowly this newfound colour of love will get deeper."

"These small steps will help us fulfill all our promises."

....... A love song......

Conan felt a complex tumble of emotions. He felt a lump stuck in his throat, almost like a stone had been dropped in his stomach. His gaze was fixed on Ran, a little forlorn, sad, even perplexed with some underlying sparks of joy as well.

At the moment Ran was humming a cheerful love song, her footsteps were light and floaty. She was preparing for dinner and was delighted, why you ask? Because she had just finished talking to Shinichi. She was feeling happy and blissful after talking to her 'boyfriend.'

Oh my god!!! It is real! He really is mine!

Ran still couldn't help but internally squeal with joy, feeling a rush of butterflies and her cheeks taking a rosy hue. She really felt as if everything that happened at Kiyomizu dera was still a dream.

After concluding the call with Ran as 'Shinichi,' Conan came back home only to be brightly greeted by Ran. He settled down in the drawing room where he planned to do his 'homework' but once again he was distracted by Ran.

He knew that she loved him. He had known that she at least liked him since the day he became Conan, but sometimes he would get overwhelmed by seeing the same love in action. As 'Conan' he was literally a third-party observer in his own relationship.

"Can this situation get any more absurd!?" Shinichi would sometimes sit blankly thinking about it.

Shinichi was terrified of hurting Ran especially when he was the cause, even the thought of her being in pain or distressed made his blood crawl backwards. Initially, he never said anything to her even after knowing her feelings was because he didn't want to hurt her as he 'physically' could not be by her side as 'Shinichi.' But now things were different, so very different. Whenever he talked to her, he felt bittersweet and frustrated at the same time.

As Conan, he could see Ran being directly affected by his actions. He did his best to not hurt her but he would cave in to his own desires too sometimes, but this warm-hearted woman would even find joy even in his most meagre steps.

Just one step from me towards her makes her sunny and gleeful.

'......the red gloves I gave as a Christmas present.....'

'.....the time I accepted the Valentine's day chocolate without her knowing.....'

'..... the time I gave her my phone number....'

There were so many instances in his mind that he could not even recount them all.

If I don't call her she is beside herself with worry and the worst part is that this is the one time she is extremely good at hiding her emotions.

'....Immediately after I shrank and was on radio silence for an entire week.....'

'...... Heck, I had not even realised that Ran was having insomnia due to her worries.....'

I can't thank Hakase enough for making the voice-changing bowtie.

'.....The passing forlorn wistful look in her eyes.......'

These moments were almost like glass shards piercing slowly and painfully into his body.

So this is how it feels, to see firsthand, seeing someone love so unconditionally.

To be her first thought in the morning,

To be the main character in her life, to be her favourite,

The reason she hums a romantic tune,

To be completely reflected in her eyes,

To be a home she craves for,

To have her life revolve around mine.

Conan sighed deeply and slumped on the table in despair but felt overwhelmed as well, being cherished by the person he adored had its own sense of bliss.

He imagined that at this very moment, he would turn in 'Shinichi.'

Slowly he made his way towards towards the kitchen where Ran was humming and was oblivious to his presence. He leaned at the door frame drinking in the sight of hers, Shinichi, almost as if in a trance walked towards her. His heart was beating furiously but calm at the same time. He was just half a step away when he heard her gasp in surprise as if she had felt his presence. At the same moment, Shinichi enveloped Ran in a hug from behind. His arms were sure and strong, tightly enveloping her.

"....Shinichi??" Ran's voice was a mix of surprise and confusion.

"What? How?" She mumbled.

"Hush now," said Shinichi, tightening his hold even further. Ran went still and blushed profusely.

Shinichi tightly clung to Ran, one arm crossed over her shoulder and the other encircled her waist, pulling her into a human cage. Shinichi buried his face in her neck.

"Your heart is beating so fast Ran," Shinichi murmured in a low husky voice.

'-Bec-because you are suddenly....and how??? and randomly .... from where....???' but it was almost as if someone had glued her mouth shut.

It felt wonderful to have her tucked away in his arms like this. His entire world was completely within his grasp.

Shinichi, slowly, very slowly trailed feather-like small kisses from the nape of her neck to her cheek. Her skin was soft and supple, her scent mild and addicting.

"I miss you so much," whispered Shinichi

His voice was tinged with sadness and longing as his lips lingered on her cheeks

*******

"Oi brat wake up the dinner is ready."

Kogorou's gruff voice startled Conan awake who looked around in a daze and half asleep.

Conan looked over to the kitchen to see Ran's back and quickly turned away feeling as if his cheeks were on fire. The dinner table was set and ready.

"Oi Ran, I am switching to the news."

"Haaiii."

"....The headlines for the day..."

"......Breaking and entering in the Haido-cho apartment..."

"....A new approved drug for appetite control...."

".....New mascot for XXX brand...."

Conan could barely concentrate on the news and ate with his head down with his ears still very much red. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Ran.

"Dad, Conan-kun, I am done. I have a ton of homework so just clear the tables I will do the dishes later."

Ran rushed to her room like a gust of wind and slammed the door shut.

"....Alright..." Kogorou just looked blankly at the now-empty space.

What the hell just happened? Ran and that brat are acting strange? Why are both their faces red? Is it flu season? Especially Ran, she had such a feverish look where right down to her neck she was completely red?

******

Ran slammed her door room shut and collapsed against it. Her breath was fast and erratic. Not just her face but it felt as if her body was burning.

What was that!? What was thaaattt!?

What's happening to me!?

I know I miss him. I know that I want him to come back as soon as possible but to have such thoughts where he...

Where he... touched and- and- and a kiss like thaaaattt.

Ran's face was steaming. It really resembled a freshly boiled crab, but she felt it even now as clear as day, her back pressed tightly against his, the intimate feel of their bodies, the warm breath, the low murmuring voice, his arms holding her tightly.

It felt so vivid and real, almost like a clandestine sweetheart visit.

Somehow Ran made it to her bed and hid in the cocoon of her blankets. Feeling too shy and embarrassed to even rationally process the tricks her mind played on her.

She opened her gallery and scrolled for his photograph. With a pang, she realised that the only recent pictures of him were from the school trip that too were mostly group pictures and had Sonoko not teased them enough to take a picture she may not have even had that. She scrolled further and came across a picture of him.

It was a candid picture of Shinichi looking elsewhere while holding a camera, he was smiling softly and looked very handsome.

(A/N - Cause he looks adorable)

Ran gently caressed the picture with her thumb.

I love you. I really love you a lot already, baka. So, please come quickly, I want to see you again.

She had an urge to call him again, to hear his voice but decided not to and fell asleep.

In her sleepy daze she remembered that Shinichi's candid photograph was clicked by Yukiko-san when he was clicking Ran's picture while they were in New York, a year ago.

*****

Conan sat on the balcony and was trying to cool his head. His dream or imagination or whatever had ended up ringing alarm bells in his mind.

'I want to hear her voice.'

He sighed, 'I' literally talked with her today and not to mention this is a one-sided long-distance relationship where I am actually living with her.

'I should not be this greedy.'

Conan opened his secret folder and yes he did have a secret folder full of Ran's images but the major culprit for it was Sonoko. She would occasionally send him Ran's pictures, she had been doing this for a while but the frequency had increased ever since he had become 'Conan' and Shinichi would simply not delete them.

He was not entirely at fault and this was a secret he was willing to keep for a bit longer than others.

He paused at the image which he had taken while they were in New York.

They were looking around the central park and Shinichi ended up clicking her picture as she was admiring the trees and just turned towards him. A shy surprised look as the sun and the wind gently caressed her.

(A/N - Cause she looks adorable too. I couldn't find a coloured picture, but the artist has done a fabulous job!!)

Shinichi felt the same burst of adoration as he always did when looked at the picture.

'I will be with you soon. I will come back to you as soon as I can and I will do my best to never leave you alone ever again.'

'Wait for me just a little longer.'

Almost as if his body moved on its own he gently kissed the screen and went back inside.

****The end****

A/N 1 - The images are NOT MINE. All the credit to the original artist.

A/N 2 - I hope you guys enjoyed reading it.

A/N 3 - Do forgive me for the grammatical errors

Please like and comment your thoughts.

BONUS cause the credit for this definitely goes to Sonoko.

These precious babies!!!

[mytheoristavenue]

Day 3: Chopper + Tree Decorating

Summary: You stay up late with Chopper to set up the Christmas tree, in order to surprise the others in the morning.

Warnings: Platonic/Sibling!Chopper, pure fluff, very slight Usopp x reader at the end

You both giggled to each other mischievously, pretending to be asleep. You held Chopper in your lap as he dramatically snored in your arms, while your head was tilted back onto the back of the sofa, snoozing with drool dribbling down the side of your cheek. You peaked your eye open to watch Zoro get up from where he'd been napping, before he made his way down the hall towards the boys' bedroom.

"C'mon, Chooper, it's time!" you whispered, patting his tummy as he hopped up and off of your lap.

"I'm so excited!" his giggled, pulling your hand along to where he'd hidden an artificial Christmas tree. you'd help him buy and hide it over a week ago. This plan had been all month in the making. You set the box containing the tree to the side, as he continued to pass you bins of ornaments, some store bought, some hand made, followed by a plethora of beautifully wrapped gifts to go under.

-----

Quietly, you both worked together to build and place the tree, positioning it in the corner of the lounge. "Put this one on first!" he chirped, handing you a dainty little straw hat on a string, that he'd tied a red ribbon around.

You cooed at the ornament, turning it over in your hands as you surveyed it. "Awe, this is so cute! Is it for Luffy?"

"Mhm!" he nodded, digging through though a specific box. "I found it in a toyshop on the last island we end to. I think it's actually for dolls, but I don't think he'll mind." You couldn't help but marvel at his tenderness as you hung the small hat on a mid level branch. "I actually made an ornament for everyone!" he added. "But they're surprises, so don't tell anyone." You swore yourself to secrecy as he handed you the next one.

You held the object delicately, turning it over in your hands. It was a grouping of three popsicle sticks, all conjoined at one end and fanning out at the other. It took you a moment to recognize them, and you were about to ask for clarification, before you noticed the dainty painting on one side. You smiled to yourself. "Zoro's swords?"

He beamed at your identification, giggling like a little girl. "Yeah! Here, try to guess this one!" He said excitedly, shoving another into your hands before you'd even hung up the pervious.

"It's an orange." You immediately said, spinning the namesake colored ball in your hands. It had a few darker spots in groupings around it, and a small green leaf made of what seemed to be felt glued to the facet that held the hanger on. "From Nami, right?"

"How'd you know?!" he squealed, squishing his cheeks.

"It was a little obvious," you laughed nervously. "What's next?"

"You'll never guess this one," he snickered with an evil grin, delicately passing over a green ball with pink spots and a wicked grin painted on the front. It reminded you a bit of a torpedo. You scratched your head a bit, stymied by what it could possibly be.

"I guess you're right. You might have to clue me in on this one." you confessed, admitting defeat, much to his delight.

"It's a pop green!" he announced, taking it and placing it where he wanted on the tree. "It's Green Star: Devil!"

"Ohh," you replied, remembering the many times you'd seen Usopp give life to the carnivorous vine. "Chopper that's so creative, I would've never thought of that for Usopp!" you praised, effectively flustering him as he waved your compliments away.

-----

Nearly an hour passed of him handing you ornaments, and asking you to guess whom the represented, when he came to the last one in the box. "Now, you have to shut your eyes for this one, 'cuz it's a surprise." he ordered, and you obliged with a small laugh. You opened them when you felt a round weight in your hands, heavier that most of the other decorations he's showed you.

The ornament in question instant brought tears to your eyes as you hiccupped at it. "Hey, hey, don't cry! Don't you like it?" he worried, skittering closer to give you a meek hug.

"No, Chopper, I adore it." You wept lightly, holding it close to your chest.

"Then why are you crying...?" You withdrew the item from your embrace and studied it, noting the work it must have taken to manufacture it. The object itself was a glass Christmas ball, a contrast to the others, which had been plastic. Inside it was water and glitter, with a small figurine that you recognized immediately as the ballet dancer that had once called your late mother's musical jewelry box home.

"How...how did you...?" you trailed, having so many questions about the dear thing.

"Usopp gave it to me," he clarified. "He said you gave it to him to fix a long time ago, but it was beyond repair and he never had the hear to tell you. So he gave me the doll from it and helped me put it in the snow globe!" You remained silent, processing the information, very much wishing the sniper had simply told you. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)...I thought you would like it. I should have asked first."

Suddenly, you reached out for him, engulfing him in a tight hug, stifling a sob. "No, Chopper I love it, really." you cried. "I just...I'm just surprised its all. Thank you for giving it a new life."

"You're welcome..." he whispered, uncertain as you released him in order to wipe away tears. "Are you sure you like it?"

"I do, I promise. This was very thoughtful of you." You truthfully did like the ornament, there was just so much emotion attached to it, and you weren't sure how to convey that to someone as young as Chopper, so you simply chose not to. "These are joyful tears, I swear."

Suddenly, both of you jumped, startled by oncoming footsteps down the hall. You froze in your emotional state, while the reindeer tried to jump in front of the tree, to protect the modesty of the surprise with all three feet of his height.

"What are you guys doing up so late- woah." Usopp yawned, irritated rubbing sleep from his eyes, before stopping to see the mess you'd been making decorating you'd been doing. "Yeah, what are you doing?"

Without a word, you stood up, gently setting the snow globe into Chopper's dainty hooves, before marching up to the sniper and enveloping him in your arms. He sputtered, taken aback at your sudden affection. The deer giggled behind you, watching the scene unfold.

"Thank you, Usopp." you whispered with a sniffle. His dark, tired eyes darted over to Chopper, and more specifically, what he held, before his eyes softened a bit. A pink hue dusted his cheeks as you snuggled against him.

"Y-Yeah, um," he gulped, wrapping his arms around your torso and hugging you back. "No problem. Merry Christmas."

Taglist:

@imamonsterfucker-sorry @killmewithafanfic @elii0 @starblazer124

[abitohoney]

All I Want for Christmas Is You

Chapter 5 of 6 - All I Want For Christmas Is You AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5 || CH6

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, AU - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Lesbian Sex, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Humor, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm Delay (nothing extreme), Begging, Strap-Ons, Face-Sitting, Corny & Cheesy Dialogue, kinda sappy

Word Count: 8.5k

Fic Summary: It’s your first year spending the holidays with Sevika, and though the two of you couldn’t be any different in your level of holiday spirit or view of the traditions that come with it, your shared adoration (and sexual attraction) for each other is more than enough to get both of you through it together.

A collection of little holiday-inspired scenes, technically chronological, but really could be read in any order or as stand-alone oneshots. Includes a nice blend of sugar (fluff) and spice (smut).

Chapter Summary: It's Christmas day, and not only do you get to spend it with your favorite person, it's also the first snow of the season. Can you convince Sevika to partake in the snow related festivities, or will the Grinch in her win out? (Was supposed to be just fun and fluff (the tooth rotting kind), but apparently I’m too horny, so enjoy a little smut at the beginning too!)

AN: Another fic already complete on AO3 that I'm bringing to Tumblr. Guess it's Xmas in April. 🤷‍♀️

Light filters in through the crack in your bedroom window shades. The brighter than usual beam aligns perfectly over your closed eyes. Pulling the sheets over your head, you feel Sevika’s warm body shift behind you. Her prosthetic arm, still snaked around your waist from where she placed it the previous night, pulls you closer against her bare chest. Warm breath tickles the hair at the back of your neck as she nuzzles into it and releases a deep sigh. A smile paints your face, delighted by how content your girlfriend is with having you near. As your head starts to clear of its morning fog, you realize what day it is.

“Sevika!” you whisper with barely contained excitement as you throw the sheet off both your naked bodies. When all you receive is a muffled groan against your neck, you try to pry her heavy arm off your body so you can sit up. Apparently she has other plans though, as she only holds you tighter and murmurs a curt, “No.”

“Sevika! It’s Christmas!” you say louder, and this time she releases her death grip on your body in favor of rolling onto her back and covering her face with a pillow. Now free, you sit upright, ignoring the way your body trembles and your skin prickles with goosebumps at the loss of her body heat in the chill of your bedroom. Scooting off the bed, you make your way to your window and push the curtains open to peer outside, curious as to why it’s so damn bright out this morning.

“OMG SEVIKA” you scream, no restraint in the volume of your voice this time.

Sevika immediately sits upright, head whipping in your direction as she prepares to save you from what must be something dangerous. Why else would you shriek like that? Her narrowed, bleary eyes take in your naked form silhouetted by the light pouring in through the now fully exposed window.

“IT SNOWED!” you squeal as you spin to face her.

The concern on Sevika’s face immediately fades into annoyance. Releasing a frustrated sigh, she falls back against her pillow, but stares blankly at the ceiling. She’s not going back to sleep, not after you startled her wide fucking awake. And not with you currently… frolicking around the bed to her side. “Babygirl,” she groans as you look down at her, all smiles, “It’s too early.” She can’t be upset with you though, not when you look so fucking adorable. Her lips pull up into a tiny smirk and she reaches out to run the backs of her metal fingers lightly down your side and over the swell of your hip.

Those ice cold digits paired with the feather light touch send chills down your spine and another wave of goosebumps across your skin. The way your body trembles in response does not go unnoticed by Sevika.

“You’re cold, sweetheart,” she purrs, her morning voice somehow impossibly deeper- huskier. That alone is enough to raise your body temperature a good several degrees. “Let me warm you.” She slips her prosthetic fingers around the back of your thigh, just beneath your ass cheek, and tugs gently- urging you to join her in bed again.

Your smile falters, legs aching with want as you watch her dark eyes rake over your naked body. “But Sevika,” you whine, “I want to open gifts and go enjoy the snow with you.”

“Later,” she insists, and you let her guide you onto the bed. Her hands slip around either side of your waist as you crawl onto the bed on your knees. She guides you so that you’re straddling her wide hips, her hungry eyes focused between your spread thighs. “Let me eat first,” she husks.

Smile completely gone now, replaced with a look of desperation- want- need, you whimper at her implication. You can't argue with such a tempting demand. So you let her have her way and allow her to pull you slowly up the bed and over her naked body. When your knees reach as far as they can go- blocked by her arms- she moves them to slip between your open legs and reaches up to grasp your sides. Locking eyes with you, she pulls you further up the bed. And with each step closer to her waiting mouth, you feel the fire in your belly grow hotter, and the muscles in your legs grow weaker. Once you’re aligned and hovering over her mouth, her hands slide down to your hips. Without breaking eye contact, she starts pressing open mouth kisses along the inside of one of your thighs, teasing you. Then she moves to the other thigh and nips at your heated flesh, drawing sweet little mewls from your parted lips with each bite.

Fully aroused and past any hope of controlling your own body, all you can do is stare down at Sevika’s lust-filled eyes and watch as she draws a deliberate line with her tongue, directly over the bite marks she just left. Your legs tremble, and the low chuckle she releases in response only weakens them further. Feeling a tug at your hips, you let her guide your body down, slowly sinking towards her plush lips, all while she drags the tip of her tongue up along the inside of the first thigh.

Unsure you’ll be able to hold yourself up by just your legs any longer, you grab for the headboard. Your controlled descent- and subsequently her tongue- stops just before she reaches the apex of your thighs. The whimper of disappointment and desperation that leaves your parted lips is pathetic. Though that ought to leave you feeling embarrassed, you know Sevika gets a thrill from having that power over you, and you can feel proof in the way her lips curl into an arrogant smirk against your skin.

Heated gaze still locked with yours, Sevika watches your lids droop as she takes a deep breath through her nose, then releases it with a deep hum of satisfaction. It’s such a lewd act, and yet it makes your walls clench around nothing.

Unable to take the prolonged teasing any longer, you silently plead with your eyes for her to get moving- to put that wonderful mouth of hers to work. When all she does is run her nose through the small patch of hair above your aching cunt, you turn to vocalizing your needs. “Sevika,” you whimper, “No more teasing, please.”

Her stormy eyes sparkle with mirth, pleased with how much of an effect she has on you- on your body. Continuing to run her nose over your mound, she husks, “I’m just savoring the aroma of my meal before I eat it.”

Janna, she talks so filthy.

Your nails dig into the soft wood of the headboard you’re currently grasping as you fight the desire to just grind against her beautiful face. However, you’re not prepared for when you feel her blow a stream of breath across your wet heat. Your hips instinctively rock forward, her nose brushing along your throbbing clit and sending a wave of pleasure through your lower half. ”Fuck!” you choke out.

Sevika, also seemingly not expecting your physical reaction, growls against your cunt. A warning not to do that again. Digging her fingers into the forgiving flesh of your hips, she moves you back in place above her, just a hairsbreadth from her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, “I didn’t mean to. It just felt so goo-” your apology falters, fading into a moan as you feel her trace the tip of her tongue just along the outside of your entrance. Apparently she’s already forgiven you. Another round of teasing the perimeter, and then you feel the pleasant drag of her tongue through your folds. She only just barely breaks the surface though, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to buck against her face.

She knows exactly what she’s doing. Knows how to tease you. To only give just enough to keep you wanting more. To have you trembling above her. Each time her mouth meets your cunt, she gives you just a little more than the last.

Her tongue delves deeper between your folds and your eyes flutter shut. She prods- like the ungodly expert she is- at your wet hole, sinking that delightful tongue of hers deeper each time. Nails digging delightfully sharp into your hips, she pulls you further down onto her face until you’re practically resting your full weight on her. And Janna, how your eyes roll behind your lids when you feel her tongue curl and drag along your walls as she- ever so slowly- lifts you back up.

“S… Sevika,” you mewl, but she doesn’t hear you. She’s too lost in her own reverie at the taste of you filling her mouth. Lifting her head she presses her lips against your cunt as she laps with renewed hunger. Her own deep, hum of satisfaction sends vibrations straight to your clit, further threatening your resolve.

“Tha- that feels- so good,” you moan, and that’s all the encouragement she needs to pick up the pace.

She pulls you back down onto her mouth, her nose buried alongside your clit. Her hands force your hips to roll down and over her face. Her tongue fucks you with each decent, and her nose rubs along the sensitive bundle above with each drag forward.

Your head lolls back, and your legs finally give way to the overwhelming pleasure, but Sevika never wavers in controlling how your body bounces and grinds over her face. Belly burning with your impending orgasm, you try to communicate how close you are, but all that falls from your parted lips is a string of nonsensical pleas and whines.

In the back of your mind, you realize Sevika is making her own sounds of pleasure, groaning each time she feels your walls clench around her tongue. Tilting your head forward, you force your bleary eyes open to peer down at her.

Sevika’s ravenous gaze is focused on your bouncing breasts. Her head bobs and switches angles as she intentionally rubs that perfect nose of hers along your clit. And you’re certain that site alone could push you over the edge.

Removing one hand from the headboard, you grab one of your breasts, kneading, pinching and playing with it as if it were Sevika’s hand. It’s nothing compared to hers, but you aren’t doing it for yourself. You’re doing it for her. To reward her. To excite her. And it obviously works.

In one swift motion, she’s pulling your clit to her mouth, wrapping her lips around it and sucking with just the right amount of pressure- all while releasing a guttural groan that you swear you can feel down to your toes.

You scream. Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly and intensely. But that scream almost instantly devolves into a broken sob and incoherent babbling as your muscles spasm with each pulsating surge of pleasure that races through your body. Clutching the headboard to keep from completely collapsing, you abandon all restraint and wrap your thighs around Sevika’s head, keeping those delightful lips in place around your clit as you ride out your high.

When you finally start to come back to reality, you gaze down at Sevika through clouded eyes. All you can see are those beautiful, stormy gray eyes focused on yours, and the top of her head. It only just starts to dawn on you that not only are you sitting on her with your full weight, you also have the sides of her head in a vice grip between your thighs.

“Shit,” you huff, “I’m- I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t say anything- understandable given she has a mouthful of cunt forced on her- but she also doesn’t seem upset. Quite the opposite rather. She looks almost fucked out herself with how relaxed her brows are and how glazed over her eyes are. Then you realize she’s also no longer holding your hips. Her hands are sitting limp against the mattress at her sides. She willingly allowed you to fully sit on her face.

Oh gawd.

You need to get off her, but your legs feel like jelly. And although she’s no longer actively sucking, her lips are still wrapped around your very sensitive clit. Any amount of movement is going to cause overstimulation, and you’re still too fucked out to handle that.

“Sevika,” you say meekly, “I- I can’t sit up on my own.”

Her eyes twitch, as if coming into focus, and she slowly lifts her hands to grasp your waist. With little to no effort, she carefully lifts you off her face, but the sight that reveals has your body aching with new arousal. Several strings of- saliva? Your release? Both? Whatever it is, it hangs connected between your weeping cunt and her lips. On top of that, her mouth and chin is absolutely coated- glistening. You can’t help but whimper wantonly.

“Made quite a mess, babygirl,” she says, her voice even huskier than usual. She sets you down over her stomach, apparently not caring too much about messes considering you’re now leaving those various fluids on her there too.

“That’s technically your fault,” you point out with a weak smile. You're exhausted.

“I’m not even talking about my face.”

Brows furrowed, you search around her head, clueless as to what other mess she could be referring to. Coming up with nothing, you ask, “What do you mean?”

She nods her head to something behind you and you glance over your shoulder even more confused.

“Look down, sweetheart.”

You do, eyes traveling up the length of her legs, to the apex of her spread thighs-

Oh shit!

“Sevika! Did- did you cum from that?” you ask, wide-eyed and completely astonished. You turn back to her as she wipes the back of her flesh hand across her face.

She doesn't answer. Just smirks up at you. Apparently that's a 'yes'.

You’re speechless. Not a damn thing you can think to say to that.

“You just stay here. I’ll get us cleaned up,” she says and helps move you off her and onto the bed.

Lying on your back, you stare blankly up at the ceiling.

Sevika got off…from you getting off.

Hearing Sevika’s heavy footfalls as she comes back into the room, you adjust your head to watch her approach the side of the bed.

“You alright?” she asks with a cocky smirk. She knows you’re more than alright, but you’ll feed her ego.

“I’m feeling really good. You blow my mind every time, Sev.”

The corner of her mouth tugs higher and she starts wiping down the insides of your legs with a warm, wet cloth. When she gets to where you’re still terribly sensitive, she’s extra careful not to cause any discomfort. It warms your heart to see how someone so big, grumpy, cocky and brutish can be so gentle and caring with you, and only you.

Once the two of you are freshened up, Sevika crawls back into bed with you. Lying on her back, she wraps her human arm under you when you roll onto your side to face her. She pulls you closer as you snuggle up to her side, resting your head on her shoulder. With an arm draped across her chest and a leg over her thigh, you release a contented sigh. Closing your eyes, you focus on the steady rise and fall of Sevika’s chest. You feel her press a kiss to the top of your head and you’re certain if you lay like this for too long, you’re going to fall right back to sleep.

“We should get up before we both pass back out,” you murmur after several blissful minutes of just cuddling with your girlfriend.

Sevika hums a noncommittal response. She’s going to make you be the one to push you two to get up. Again.

Reluctantly, you sit up and scoot to the end of the bed before hopping down and making your way to the dresser. Grabbing underwear for both of you, you sling hers across the room. It lands on her face and you make no effort to hide your giggles as she groans. You slip into yours then grab the matching pajamas and socks you bought specifically for today. “Here. Put these on too,” you say and toss hers. They land right smack in the center of her face just as she’s sitting up.

She narrows her eyes at you, to which you offer her your best innocent smile.

“More matching shit?” she grumbles as she picks up her clothing.

“It’s not as bad as the sweaters, I promise,” you reply while slipping your green, fluffy socks on. Then you follow with the red plaid pajama pants and long-sleeved top. Sevika has the same combo, but in swapped colors. And just like with her sweater, you removed the left sleeve to allow her prosthetic to slip through more easily.

Coming to stand beside where Sevika sits at the edge of the bed while slipping her last red sock on, you give her a quick peck on the cheek. “You look cu-” you pause, knowing she hates being called ‘cute’, “You look nice.”

She stands up beside you, not looking entirely pleased with her getup, but she also isn’t complaining like she did with the ugly sweater.

Progress!

“Now we can go outside," you exclaim, and without giving Sevika a moment to reply, you take hold of human wrist and drag her out of the bedroom, towards the front door. “I’m so excited!” you squeal. Grabbing your winter coat, gloves and boots, you ignore Sevika’s muttered, “Obviously.” from behind you. Geared up for the cold, you turn to find Sevika begrudgingly slipping into hers, but she’s taking her damn sweet time. “C’mon, Sev. Don’t be such a Grinch. You’ll have fun.”

Once Sevika is fully dressed in her winter attire, you throw the door open and dash outside. Sevika, far less enthused, slowly trudges out behind you.

With her back to you as she turns to close the door, you make a hasty snowball and launch it in her direction. Not only does it land, it nails her square in the back of her head. She flinches, her shoulders jerking upward. A nice glob of snow sticks to her dark hair and you have to cover your mouth with a gloved hand to stifle the giggles that slip past.

Sevika turns slowly, deliberately, to face you. Narrowed stormy eyes land on you, and you know this is going to be the damn flour incident all over again. Without removing her eyes from you, she kneels down and scoops up a nice sized ball of snow. Sensing an impending onslaught of snowballs, you give yourself a head start and spin to run towards the side of the house, giggling as you go. You don’t get far though, before you feel something smack you hard in the center of your ass. You yelp, nearly tripping from the sheer force in which you were hit.

Damn she’s got good aim!

“Why you running, babygirl?!” she calls from behind you tauntingly.

“Cause I don’t want to be covered in snow!” you yell as you round the house to the back yard. The snow is thicker there and- as luck would have it- one of your boots get stuck. You fall down- face first- into the thick snow. With the amount of momentum you had from running, you sink far enough to cover most of your body. Through the snow covering your ears, you can hear a muffled taunting chuckle and the crunch of approaching footsteps. Then you’re suddenly being pulled out of the snow by the collar of your coat before being set back down on your haunches.

“Were you running from me or yourself?” Sevika teases as you work to brush off the snow from your- everything.

“Haha,” you reply mockingly once your mouth is free of snow. Sevika's boots move into your view as she steps in front of you. Slowly, you tilt your head back to glare up at her shit-eating grin.

“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. I didn’t do this to you,” she sneers. She offers you her hand though, which you reluctantly take. She pulls you to your feet with enough force that you stumble into her hard form.

Hands pressed against Sevika’s chest, you tilt your head back to shoot her another nasty look, but she only smirks in return.

“Hey, where’s that pretty smile?” she asks in the smooth, sexy voice she knows will make you easily forgive and forget. She brings her gloved hand to your face, gently swiping away remnants of snow from your cold cheeks.

You try not to let your pout slip into a smile, but when her smirk softens and her arms slide around your back to pull you closer, you lose it. Grin back in place, you give her a playful shove, which -as expected- doesn’t do much of anything. Can’t exactly move a mountain. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” she asks, but you know she’s playing dumb with the way her lips curl higher.

“Be all sweet, and smooth and sexy when I’m mad at you.”

She chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I like your smile.”

Okay. Really can’t be mad at her now.

You won’t give her the benefit of a response, but she sees how that makes your smile grow. When she lets her hands fall back to her sides, you take a step back and peer down at the indent your body left in the snow. Struck with an idea, you turn back to Sevika. “I bet you’ve never made snow angels before, have you?” Taking her arched brow as a ‘no’, you trudge through the thick snow to a spot that looks a bit shallower. “It’s fun. Did this all the time as a kid,” you say before stretching your arms out at your side and falling back into the snow.

Sevika stands several feet from you, watching with mild amusement as you start moving your arms and legs across the snow several times.

“Okay. Help me up, but don’t step on my angel.”

You can tell by the way her lips twitch that she wants to say something snarky, but she comes to your aid silently. Taking her hand once again, you let her pull you to your feet, then turn to face your creation. “See! It’s a snow angel!”

Sevika stares down at the displaced snow, clearly unimpressed.

“Really? Nothing to say?” you pout and plant your hands on your hips. “Let’s see you do better!”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Oh come on, Sev. It’s something everyone needs to experience at least once.”

“No.”

Fine. If she won’t do it willingly…

Not learning from your earlier attempt to shove her, you pull your hands far back before shoving them full force- throwing all your body weight into it- into Sevika’s chest. To your surprise- and hers- you do manage to cause her to take a small step back to balance herself. Your eyes widen while her brows raise.

“Babygirl, you really want me to do it that badly?” she asks. When she sees you prepare to give pushing her another try, she grabs your wrists before your hands can connect with her chest again. Sighing, she relents, “I’ll do it. Just this once.” Your resultant giggles have her shaking her head, probably wondering why she puts up with your silly ass. Arms spread wide just like you had, she checks over her shoulder, then turns to you with an eye roll, a muttered, “You owe me,” and then finally falls backwards.

Janna, what you would give to somehow capture this image forever. Sevika is lying in the snow before you, grumpy face firmly in place, while she makes a fucking snow angel. A half-assed snow angel, but a snow angel nonetheless.

Once she’s done, you offer her your hand. However, when she arches a brow, you realize there’s no way you’re going to be helping her up, so you let your arm drop to your side and take a step back out of the way. “Careful not to mess it up!” you tell her as she moves to stand on her own.

On her feet, the two of you look over her handiwork. It’s comically larger than yours, and honestly not much like any angel you've seen. “Not bad, but I think it needs something,” you say and make your way to the top of her ‘angel’.

Sevika watches as you draw two long, curved lines above her head. Then you move to the side and draw a squiggly line coming from her lower back, and add a little triangle at the opposite end. “What the hell is that?” she grunts.

“Horns and a tail. I think a devil suits you much better than an angel,” you tease. The innocent smile you flash her starts to falter when she meets your gaze and her lips curl into a sinister smile.

“That so?” she sneers, “Well this devil has a penchant for corrupting sweet little angels.”

“Sev, no!” you squeal when she moves to grab you, but you remain rooted, knowing after your earlier mishap that running is futile. Not only does she grab you, she throws you over her damn shoulder. The shrill yelp that rips from your throat has her chuckling. “Sevika! Put me down!” you screech, kicking your feet helplessly as she starts to carry you back toward the front of the house.

“No.”

“At least carry me nicely!” you demand.

“Devils don’t do things nicely.” she sneers, but you can hear that playful inflection in her voice. She’s enjoying messing with you. “And stop kicking or I’ll drop your ass,” she adds with a firm slap to said ass.

Another yelp leaves your throat and your face flushes at how your body reacts to her spanking you. Feeling suddenly a bit too... excited, you opt to shut your mouth for the remainder of her trek back to the front door.

Metal hand firmly gripping your ass to keep you from slipping off her shoulder, Sevika uses her gloved hand to open the door and steps inside. After kicking the door shut behind her, she carefully sets you on your feet. Smirking down at you- obviously enjoying how flustered you look- she starts stripping off her winter gear. “Now get that shit off and get your angelic ass on the couch. This devil needs your body to warm her up.”

Can’t argue with that.

As you quickly remove your gear, you think of one last wintry thing you want to share with her. “Can your angel make us a hot cup of cocoa to drink while we cuddle?”

“Who said we’re gonna cuddle?” she purrs as she steps into your personal space. And by personal space you mean her thick thighs- so thick that even her baggy pajama pants hug them impossibly tight- are directly in front of your face as you’re bent over removing your last boot.

Peering up at her through your lashes, you slowly straighten back up. “Not that I would ever deny whatever else you have in mind, but I really was hoping for some cuddles by the fireplace and opening gifts.”

And then the two of you are in a silent standoff. She watches you with a sexy smirk, threatening to make your knees weak and cave into giving her what she wants. But you have an equally powerful tool at your disposal. Your pouty lips and pleading doe-eyes.

Sighing in defeat, Sevika’s smirk devolves into a sweeter grin. “Alright, babygirl. This just means you owe me even more.”

“Okay!” you agree without question and make your way to the kitchen to whip up some hot chocolate. Surprisingly, Sevika follows you. “Are you going to help?” you ask as you fill a kettle with water and set it on the stove.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” she replies as she steps up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist, “Just wanted to steal some of your body heat.”

“I can’t really work like this,” you point out, but you make no effort to stop her. Not when you actually enjoy the attention.

It does- in fact- prove to be rather difficult to work with her wrapped around you. Trying to move around the kitchen with your tall, wide girlfriend holding you close, is challenging to say the least. However, you do manage, and end with two, hot, delicious cups of hot cocoa.

“What do you think?” you ask, handing Sevika her cup when she finally releases you from her embrace.

Lifting it to her mouth, she eyes it suspiciously before taking a small sip. Judging by the way her face scrunches up like it did when she tried eggnog the other day, she is not a fan. “Too sweet,” she grumbles.

“But I thought you liked sweet things,” you reply with a coy smile that she doesn’t seem to catch- too busy glaring at her cocoa.

“Never liked sweet things.”

“What about me?”

That gets her to look at you. “You’re the only exception, sweetheart.”

“Well I might be able to make that sweet cup of cocoa a little more tolerable,” you reply and make your way to the cabinet where Sevika stores her liquor. Selecting one of her favorite whiskeys, you remove the cap and pour a hefty amount into her hot chocolate. “How about now?”

She takes a sip- this time a nice long one- then pulls it away with a pleased hum.

“Now how about those cuddles?” you suggest and she nods, following you into the living room.

She helps you get the fireplace started, then gets settled into the corner of the couch, patting her thigh to indicate where she’d like you to sit. More than happy to oblige, you seat yourself across her lap, smiling as you wrap both your hands around your warm mug.

The two of you sip your cocoa in companionable silence, watching the fire dance and listening to the crackle of the logs. Sevika’s prosthetic, currently draped along the back of the couch just behind you, plays absentmindedly with your shirt collar. The smooth backs of her fingers caressing your skin.

Hot chocolates finished, you gather up both mugs and set them in the kitchen sink before grabbing Sevika’s gift from under the tree. “Gift time!” you call as you skip over to plop back down beside her on the couch. You turn to her with a huge smile and hand her the gift, excited to see her reaction.

Sevika’s lips twitch, fighting the smile threatening to bloom at the sight of your intricately wrapped present. It’s wrapped in a dark red paper that she knows is far too similar to that of her cape to be merely coincidence. The perfectly tied bow is a shiny gold that could easily be mistaken for the same material that covers the left collar of her favored leather vest. From the corner of her eye, she can see your leg bouncing up and down in excitement and she finally lets a small grin tug at the corner of her mouth.

Focused on watching your girlfriend’s expression, you wait- rather impatiently- for her to slowly remove the meticulously tied bow. It’s like last night’s gift all over again with how she takes her sweet ass time. Only this time the end results will likely be very different in nature. Even so, you’re just as anxious. You catch the way her brow raises just the faintest amount as she peels back enough paper to reveal the top of the humidor beneath. And it doesn’t go unnoticed how she then starts to remove the paper faster.

Nailed it.

With the paper removed, Sevika opens the lid to reveal a large number of her favorite cigars. Imported, and expensive to the point you know she only buys a small number each year as a treat. “Babygirl, this is too much,” she murmurs, but you catch how she smiles.

“I wanted to,” you reply, watching how she takes one out and brings it to her nose to inhale deeply. “There’s a couple other things in there too,” you point out.

She pulls out two small items covered in brown paper and unwraps one, revealing a gold cigar cutter. Then she unwraps the other to reveal a matching lighter. Both have her initials engraved into them. Her gaze lifts to your expectant one and she shakes her head.

Your heart drops for a moment.

Is she disappointed? Does she not like them?

“This is far too much,” she says quietly.

“But you like it?” you ask hopefully, but you feel that hope crack as she places everything back in the humidor and sets it on the end table beside her.

“Of course I like it, but you must have spent far more on this than you can afford.”

“Can’t put a price on how much I adore you, Sev.”

The way her expression softens- her eyes shifting as if she doesn’t know how to respond- makes your heart flutter. You place a hand on the top of her thigh and lean forward to give her a quick peck on the corner of her mouth. Before you can pull back, her human hand cups your cheek and she leans in to press her lips fully to yours.

She kisses you softly- tenderly- and you feel yourself melting. You know this is her way of silently thanking you. When she breaks the kiss, you can tell she’s holding back a smirk, but you’re not sure why.

“I got you something too,” she says quietly, and now you realize why she’s trying to hide a smile. She must be excited to see what you think of your gift. She reaches around the side of the couch and pulls out a box from under the end table. Placing it in your lap, she’s now the one anxiously watching your expression.

The box is- unsurprisingly- not wrapped. What is surprising however, is that it does have a little red bow on the top. And honestly, you think it’s pretty damn cute that she even went that far. Brimming with excitement, you pull the lid off and set it on the couch at your other side. Removing several pieces of tissue, you find a simple, black blindfold.

What in Janna’s name…

Your eyes rise to Sevika’s face suspiciously. She’s no longer holding back her smile. No, rather she’s smirking like she’s up to something. Like she knows something you don’t. “Sev…” you start skeptically, “What is this for?”

“Put it on.”

That is not the answer you’re looking for, but when she arches a brow, you do as you’re told and slip it on and align it over your eyes. You feel the couch shift as Sevika stands. She takes your hand into hers and guides you to stand as well. Without the sense of sight, your other senses start to work overtime and you can feel her warm breath fan across your forehead. She’s facing you.

“Sev, what’s going on?” you ask in an almost whine. “Is this for… bedroom time?” You’re almost hopeful that’s what it is, but when she starts silently guiding you in the direction of the front door, you know that’s not going to be the case.

“What did I tell you about being patient, sweetheart?” she teases.

“Good things come to those who wait,” you repeat, mocking her typical dry tone. And though that is true in the case of Sevika, that usually involves sex, which this clearly does not. Does it?

“Put this on,” she says when she finally stops and releases your hand.

You can feel her holding your coat to your back, which has you so much more confused as to what the hell she’s up to. “Sev, where are we going?” you ask as you allow her to help you slip each arm into the sleeves. “We’re still in our pajamas.”

“Nobody will be there,” she replies, ignoring your first question. After helping you slip your gloves and boots on, she leaves you momentarily to put out the fire before returning to get into her own coat and boots.

Taking your hand again, she guides you outside and into your vehicle. You know you’re not supposed to ask questions. You’re supposed to be patient. But damn, this has got to be the oddest thing she’s ever done. She’s never surprised you with anything outside the bedroom, so you’re literally at a loss as to what’s going on.

The drive is short, but the silence it carries is maddening. You're so damn confused, nervous and excited. When the vehicle stops, you listen for any sounds that could indicate where the hell she’s taken you. But, even as the door opens beside you, all you can hear is the rustle of Sevika’s coat as she reaches in to help you step down and out.

With her hand on the small of your back, she’s guiding you once again.

“Sev, how much further?” you finally ask, breaking that awful silence.

“We’re here. Sit down.”

Sit down? You don’t even know if there’s anything behind you, but she takes your elbow and helps you get seated on what feels like a cold, metal bench. Then, as if this whole situation couldn’t get any weirder, you feel her start to remove your boots, only to replace them with different footwear that you can’t quite identify. Something with laces apparently, as you feel her tighten them up.

She sits beside you, presumably to swap out her boots as well.

What the hell is going on?

“Alright, you can remove it.”

Finally!

Not waiting a second longer, you reach up and yank the blindfold off. Unfortunately, your eyes can’t quite adjust that quickly to the sudden change from near pitch black to blinding bright white light that reflects from the surrounding snow. Squinting, your eyes finally start to focus, and you realize you’re seated right in front of a small, frozen pond. Glancing around in stunned silence, you notice nobody else is there, just several small evergreen trees to your right. They line the very edge of the pond, and against the powdery white snow that coats them, you can see a variety of shiny red, gold, silver and green baubles decorating the branches. Then you remember Sevika had put something different on your feet. Straightening your legs out in front of you, you find your boots had been replaced with… ice skates?

Oh dear Janna, did she bring you to ice skate?!

A quick glance to Sevika’s own skate donning feet confirms your suspicion.

Holy. Fucking. Shit!

Your wide eyes search her expression for answers to questions you haven’t even formed yet. You watch as her eyes focus on your expression, clearly anxious for a reaction. “Sevika! Did- did you really bring me here to skate with you?!” you whisper in shock. There’s not another soul around to be quiet for, but you’re literally stunned to the point you’re almost breathless. This is not something you would have ever expected your grumpy girlfriend to do for you.

“You’ve been talking about it for weeks,” she replies quietly.

Wow. Just wow.

“Sevika, this is such a sweet gift!” You turn your attention to the decorated trees again, then back to her. “You didn’t do that too, did you?”

She nods, and you swear to Janna she looks almost bashful to admit it. “Ran helped.”

You owe Ran a hug and many thanks later, but right now you want to smother Sevika in kisses.

“You want to go out there?” she asks.

“Yes! Of course!” you exclaim. That earns you a cute lopsided grin as she stands and offers you her gloved hand. You give her your own, allowing her to help you to your feet. Hand in hand, the two of you carefully make your way onto the edge of the ice. Pausing you turn to gaze up at Sevika, and before you even ask the question on your mind, you know the answer. “Have you ever done this before?”

Sevika looks downright terrified, but she’s trying so damn hard to hide it under her typical surly demeanor. Yet there’s no hiding the way her hand clenches around yours even harder when both her skates hit the slick ice and slide just a fraction. Nor the way her entire body tenses. Everything goes stock straight- rigid.

“It’s okay Sev,” you assure her and give her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve only done this a couple times myself. We’ll both probably fall a few times.” It’s a lie. You’d actually done it quite a few times in your childhood, just not for several years. When she gives you the side eye, you offer her a reassuring smile. “We’ll start slow.”

Carefully, you start to move forward. When she makes no effort to follow along, leaving your arm extended awkwardly behind you, you pause and turn to face her. Taking her prosthetic in your other hand, you start to slowly skate backwards.

“You know that’s not going to help, right?” she grunts. “If I start to go down I’m going to crush you.”

Gradually pulling her forward while you make your way further back over the pond, you can’t help but smile. It’s incredibly cute how nervous your brute of a girlfriend is over something as silly as ice skating. “You make it sound like being pinned beneath you is a bad thing,” you joke.

“It will be when you get to feel the brunt of my entire body weight crashing down on you,” she grumbles. Her eyes are focused on watching her own feet, and you think perhaps this is a good thing. That way she can’t see the way your eyes sparkle with mirth or how you smile in amusement at her expense.

“Sounds like a great way to go,” you laugh. Turning your skate to stop for a moment, you almost can’t contain your giggles when Sevika starts to freak out because the little bit of momentum across the slick ice keeps her headed straight for you. Her chest lightly bumps into yours, but your turned skate keeps you in place.

No longer able to glare at her feet, she’s left staring down at your beaming face. Some of that concern and frustration etched into her brows softens, and she grins.

“Kiss me?” you ask sweetly and bat your lashes at her.

“Babygirl, I’d like to, but if I try to bend down- we’re both going down.”

“It’ll be fine, just do it slowly.” You release her hands, but she immediately starts to wobble and it’s so hard not to laugh at how she goes wide-eyed. Grabbing her hands again, you place them on your waist to help steady her. It seems to work, but the death grip she has on you can be felt even through your thick winter coat.

“Shit,” she curses under her breath.

That scowl of hers is back in place, but you’re confident you can get her back to smiling. Placing your hands on her hips, you tilt your head back, purse your lips, and close your eyes - ready for your kiss. You hear her release a defeated sigh, but you can feel her bend at the waist and her warm breath hit your cold cheek when she places a kiss there. “You missed,” you tease, eyes still closed and lips waiting. Her deep chuckle warms your chest, but her lips finally pressing to yours set your whole body aflame. Thankfully, she manages to stay stable throughout the kiss, relaxes a bit even.

When Sevika straightens up, you smile up at her adoringly. “Thank you so much for doing all this,” you say softly. “This is the perfect gift.”

That smirk of hers is- as expected- back in place, but you can tell she wants to say something. You give her a moment, but when she says nothing, you try prodding her. “Something on your mind?”

“No. Let’s just keep going,” she replies and her eyes flit to the center of the pond, then back to you.

Taking her hands into yours again, you return to your slow backward skate, dragging Sevika along with you. After several close calls with her losing her balance but not quite falling, she starts to get the hang of it. You can feel her hands loosen their death grip on yours and see her shoulders drop a bit as some of that tension slips away. You both watch the other’s expression in silence. She admires your sweet, enthusiastic smile, while you admire her crooked smirk and the way her cheeks and nose start to redden with the chill of the wintry air.

Feeling bolder now that she seems to be getting more comfortable, you pick up your speed and start pulling her in more random patterns. To your surprise- and delight- she goes along with it, apparently too caught up in watching you smile. But, as the two of you approach the center of the pond, you catch how her eyes flit to something on the surface and her expression changes for just a split second. Too fast for you to determine what she was feeling. You glance down at your feet just in time to catch sight of a small, black box as you pass it.

“Oh! There’s something out here, Sev!” you point out. Carefully reducing your speed, you bring the two of you back to the box. Once you're both stopped and steady, you release her hands. Before you can kneel to inspect the item, you realize Sevika is looking nervous as hell again. “You’re fine! You’re not going to fall!” you laugh. She doesn’t seem to hear you though, as she just stares silently at you.

She’s so odd today.

Kneeling down, you grab the velvety box. It’s small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. Rising to your feet, you inspect it further. You realize it’s a clamshell, so you slowly flip the lid open, but are not prepared for what you find inside.

A ring? An engagement ring?

“Sevika!” you exclaim in shock, “Someone lost their engage-” your words die in your mouth when you catch Sevika’s nervous stare again.

Wait. No. It can’t be. She didn’t. She wouldn’t.

You search her eyes for the answers, too afraid to ask the questions. Her attention drops to the ring, and she very slowly, carefully, propels herself forward until she’s close enough to take the box from your hand. All you can do is watch, utterly dumbfounded, as her shaky human hand slips the glove off your left hand. Removing the ring from the box, she stuffs both your glove and the box into her pocket and then her worried eyes meet yours.

“I- I can’t kneel right now,” she stammers, her normally solid, confident voice nearly cracking.

Oh Janna!

She’s worried about being able to kneel. Yet you’re not sure you can even stand right now with how weak your knees feel. “Sevika…” you whisper breathlessly as she takes your ring finger in her metal hand while her poor, trembling human hand fumbles with the attempt to slide the ring on. You help her, although even your hand shakes with the amount of emotion threatening to explode from your every fiber. Your eyes brim with unshed tears, ready to fall at any moment.

“Will you-”

“Yes!” you scream, not even allowing her to stammer out the question you know is coming. Unfortunately, you were a bit too enthusiastic, and your poor girlfriend- fiancé- is so startled that she jumps. You try to grab her- foolish as it is to think you can help keep your gigantic fiancé upright- and latch onto her wrists. She loses her balance, feet slipping out from under her, and falls backwards, taking you down with her.

She lands on her back with a loud oomph, while you crash on top of her solid body with a startled yelp. You manage to firmly plant your hands down on the ice on either side of her broad shoulders to prevent your head from smacking into hers. Both of you stare wide-eyed at one another in shock for a solid two seconds.

And then you both laugh. You’re the first to release the tear inducing giggles, but her deep, belly shaking laughter follows soon after. Those tears of joy that had been so close to spilling over now fall freely down your cold cheeks before dripping down onto Sevika’s.

Once the two of you recover from your fits of laughter, you can’t help but just pepper her face with kisses. Despite the cold air, her cheeks are flush with warmth.

“Sweet-” Sevika tries to speak over your onslaught of affection, cutoff when you peck the corner of her mouth. When your lips moves to her nose, she tries again. “Sweetheart, I get it.”

You pause, just long enough to check her expression. And upon seeing she’s not upset in the least, you quickly resume showering her in chaste kisses. At least until you feel her wrap her arms around you and roll the two of you over. Though she manages to get you on your back, she struggles to straddle you without slipping. As soon as you start laughing at her predicament, she gives up, letting her body slip down onto yours.

Giggles cutoff by the sheer weight of Sevika, you squirm beneath her. “Sevika!” you chastise, “You’re gonna crush me!”

She takes mercy on you- at least a bit- and pushes her upper body up off yours. Now she’s the one grinning down at you. “Thought that was a great way to go,” she mocks teasingly. Before you can retort, her lips are on yours.

When she breaks the kiss and gazes down at you with a crooked grin, you feel suddenly overwhelmed with emotions. “Sevika, this has been the best gift ever. I mean there’s no topping this,” you say softly. Your smile fades, replaced with that of disappointment as you continue. “But, I feel like my gift to you is so pitiful now. I really wanted to give you something special for our first Christmas together.”

Before you can turn away, Sevika’s gloved hand cups your cheek and she locks eyes with you. “Babygirl, I got what I wanted. And I’ll want the same thing next year, and the year after that.” When you raise a brow in question, she gives you a soft, warm kiss on your cold nose before answering your unspoken question.

“All I want for Christmas is you.”

next chapter >

[sailtomarina]

A Tissueful of Love

Hermione x Fred | @hp-yuletide-bliss Day 8: Being (love)sick on Christmas | WC 1571 | Rating: M (implied/referenced sex)

“Oh, that’s just disgusting,” Hermione muttered, holding the overly-saturated tissue away from her face in a grimace.

Snowfall had brought with it a lovely dusting over the entirety of London, which unfortunately resulted in a less-than-prepared witch getting caught in the cold and now sitting huddled on her couch surrounded by blankets. She wore her thickest socks and let her curls go wild around her shoulders for additional warmth. It seemed like no matter how many layers she wore or how high she stoked her fire, she still couldn’t get warm enough. Even Crookshanks seemed to think her efforts ridiculous, choosing to sit far away on the window seat, eyes baleful in their bright yellow stare.

The one comfort came in the form of a tall redhead who was currently reaching around from behind to present her with a steaming mug of her favorite roasted barley tea. She breathed in deep and luxuriated in the toasty aroma.

“I’ll pretend that was for me,” Fred teased, pressing his soft lips to her temple.

“It might as well be. You’re my savior.” The tea was at the perfect temperature to drink immediately, and she did so with gusto.

He came around to join her on the couch, pulling one of her feet into his lap.

“Oh, Fred, don’t. It’s all rough,” Hermione protested, attempting to pull back from him. He ignored her, keeping a firm grasp on her calf with one hand while the other deftly pulled off her sock, revealing pale, pebbled flesh and a few day’s worth of stubble above. She hadn’t been in the mood to shave since catching cold, and now his hands were running up and down the less-than-smooth surface without a care in the world.

“I don’t care, or have you forgotten that I have hairy legs, too?” His eyes twinkled in response to her frown.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” he mused, proceeding to press his thumbs into the curve of her foot. She couldn’t help the way her back arched as she moaned at the delicious pressure. She leaned heavily against the back of the sofa and thrust her foot further into his hands. “I thought not.”

She supposed she shouldn’t have even worried about Fred. He was nothing like anyone else she’d ever been with, including his own brother. There was a near effortless ease to being with him, his affection an uplifting buoy system that made each day one to look forward to. Fred knew her, and what he didn’t know he learned, picking up on all her little idiosyncrasies and never mocking her for any of them. Rather, he treated them each like a gift to be unwrapped and enjoyed.

He eyed each new book pile that appeared in their home with amusement, taking note of the many makeshift bookmarks–coffee-stained napkins, notes of papers covered in scribbles, and, one time, a particularly large whisker that had fallen from Crookshanks’ face that Hermione first held aloft and squealed over with delight. 

Fred took particular care to maintain constant pressure with his hands, no doubt recalling the last time he’d let up, his feather-light touch resulting in a swift kick to his face when she’d howled at the ticklish sensation and lost total control of her limbs. She still felt bad when she recalled the bruise that had formed on his chin that he’d refused to vanish, telling all their friends and his family that he’d achieved the wound in battle.

Hermione took another sip as Fred moved on to her other foot, his movements firm and sure. He hummed quietly while working on her muscles.

“I didn’t realize you knew that song,” she admitted. “The Christmas Song” was a long-time holiday favorite of hers, but she very rarely heard it in wizarding homes, which usually preferred familiar singers like Celestina Warbeck.

“You sing it every year,” he said with a grin and a wink, before bending his head back down to concentrate.

She studied the fiery red locks that fell forward around his face, a style she adored because it afforded her something to hold onto, or, at other times, brush over his ear as she whispered something filthy. There was a trail of freckles, larger than the rest, that ran down his neck and underneath his collar that she adored tracing with her mouth. He had far too many overall to count, but she made sure to familiarize herself with every one of them to see which were especially sensitive.

There was the one behind his ear that never failed to make him whimper. He was especially loud when she fisted his hair to the side as she sucked a mark to the surface. There was the trio across his torso that highlighted his still-sculpted abs. There was the mole just below his left hip bone that the barest hint of a touch seemed to send a current straight to his cock. Hermione was very careful to skirt the sensitive spot when she wanted to take her time and unravel him slowly.

Her eyes watered in warning, and she quickly set her mug to the side and grabbed a tissue just in time for her body to rock furiously into a sneeze. Her nose honked as she cleared it, and he laughed.

“Fred Weasley, don’t you dare laugh at me,” she hissed, holding up her balled-up snot rag in threat.

He stared back at her, lips curling at the edges in an unmistakable smirk. “I’m sorry, love, but what could you possibly do to stop me?” His thumbs lightened their pressure and swirled circles on the balls of her feet, bordering the line between pleasure and torture.

Did he want another bruise?

“I've got plenty of ammunition pouring out of my nose and I won’t hesitate to use it.” She pulled back her arm to emphasize her point, but he only raised a brow.

They remained at a standstill for several beats, Hermione holding her breath as she waited for his next move. He really did have the prettiest blue eyes, clear as a winter’s day sky and focused intently on her. Even before George had lost his ear, Hermione could tell them apart just by looking into their eyes. Fred’s were a smidgen lighter, a cooling balm to her easily fraught nerves.

He began to lean forward, intention unknown, but Hermione didn’t hesitate.

She slung forward her arm with all the strength of the Chaser she most definitely wasn’t, but it would’ve made Ginny proud. Her aim struck true, the tissue hitting him square between the eyes and making him go cross-eyed and sit back in surprise.

She cackled as she swept up another ball into her hand–she had a lapful she’d generated in the last hour alone, and not all of them had been neatly folded up within their papery confines.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he growled, tossing her legs off his lap. He threw himself across the sofa, pinning her beneath him and catching her wrists in both hands. Her eyes widened at his proximity.

“Fred, you’re going to get sick–”

He cut her off with a harsh kiss, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip before soothing it with a quick swipe of his tongue. A knee pressed between her thighs and pushed up against the seam of her joggers.

Oh, Godric.

Here she was, expelling bodily fluids like it was her job, feeling at her most unappealing state, yet Fred didn’t seem to care. He devoured her like she was his favorite treat, and Hermione just knew she tasted nothing like custard cream. It would serve him right if he suddenly burst with feathers and transformed into a canary.

His forehead pressed against hers as he paused to stare into her eyes, rubbing his rockhard thigh into her and making her pant with need.

“I don’t care if we’re both sick for Christmas; my family can go fuck themselves because I’d rather be fucking you, cold or no cold.”

His words were like a shocking current to her blood, making her writhe against him, wrists fighting to break free of his grip.

But then, the telltale tickle at the base of her nose.

She must have made quite the face, what with the speed of his response, yanking a tissue from the box at her side and dropping it on top of her.

“Ahhhhhhh-choo!”

The force of her sneeze was so great, it drove her down against his leg and made her clench at the toe-curling pleasure of it. Never was there ever a stranger combination of sensations. Her hands now free, she finished cleaning up and tilted her head for his inspection.

“All clear?”

He made a show of looking one way, then another. “Looks good, though I wouldn’t mind a bit of bogies–I’d just keep my eyes focused elsewhere.” He pointedly looked down at her tits.

“Fred!”

She swatted him and he bellowed his laughter into her neck as his hands busied themselves by sliding under her jumper and palming the source of his appreciation.

“What? Your tits alone should be considered Britain’s greatest National Treasure, along with your nose, that hair, your arse, and,” he dropped his hands to grip her hips and grind her down onto him, “your tight cunt.”

They did in fact end up missing Christmas Day at the Burrow, Hermione tending to a bed-sick ginger in all of his favorite ways.

Is this one too weird and gross? I was aiming for a silly kind of cute, with Fred making Hermione feel better during her cold. I’ve definitely made some similar jokes with my own husband, so the interaction wasn’t too difficult to imagine here.

Make sure you get your COVID and Flu shots this season! Especially if you’re planning on traveling for the holidays like I am. Nobody likes catching sick after a plane ride.

[gracexthoughts]

of violent delights chap 6

eavesdropping

18 December 1995

Euphemia's POV

I shiver as the door to the Three Broomsticks opens as snow and icy air blow into the pub. I wrap my hands tightly around my mug of Butterbeer, taking a long sip and relishing how the warm amber drink feels as it warms me from the inside out, and turn my attention back down to the book in front of me. Angelina and Alicia had been here earlier, but rather than wait for the Twins who are taking their sweet time, they went back to their shopping as both of them are behind on their Christmas shopping. Suddenly, cold hands cup my cheeks from behind me and I squeal and pull away. The Twins laugh as they sit down, pulling their hats and scares and cloaks off. "I hate you two!" I laugh, shivering and holding my Butterbeer closer. 

"George maybe, but you love me," Fred says, winking at me. 

"I had to make friends with the Weasley twins, didn't I? I should go back in time and tell myself to steer clear of the whole lot of you," I tease, finishing my drink. "You guys want a Butterbeer?" 

"I'll get them," Fred jumps up before I can pull out my coin purse. I sigh and look to George sitting across from me. 

"I wish you'd let me pay sometimes," I grumble. 

"A lady never pays, Phe," George shrugs, some snow still stuck to the ends of his hair that his hat didn't cover. The Weasley's, always unfailingly generous and caring, never let Harry and I help them with anything. Whether it was drinks at the Three Broomsticks or staying with them last summer. Harry and I inherited more money than we could ever hope to spend from our parents but the Weasley's never took anything we offered them. Before I can argue, Fred returns and sets a Butterbeer in front of me. 

"Thank you," I say to the two of them and take a sip. "So, what the hell took you guys so long? Angie and Alicia left almost 20 minutes ago." 

"We had some uh, business to do first," Fred says, looking down at his Butterbeer. 

"You're not gonna elaborate?" I ask, chuckling. 

"Nope," they say in unison, giving me their best 'look how innocent we are' look which I know better than to believe after 5 years of friendship. 

Before I can challenge them, another cold breeze cuts through the air and I turn to see Hermione, Ron and Harry walking though the door. Harry immediately locks eyes with me and all three of them make their way over to our table looking very guilty. 

"Harry, what the hell are you doing here?" I ask, angry, confused and maybe a little impressed but I won't tell him that. While I know how upset Harry has been at not being able to visit Hogsmeade, it has been a slight weight off my shoulders that he has been kept safe in the castle while Sirius Black is still free. Harry's wide eyes dart to the Weasley Twins behind me which is all the answer I needed. Grabbing my book off the table, I turn to the closest twin, Fred, and hit his shoulder. "OH! I told you to keep the map in a safe place! Not tell my little brother how to sneak out of the castle!" 

"You knew about the map?" Harry asks, pulling a familiar piece of parchment from his back pocket. "They told me not to tell you!" He motions to the Twins who recoil from my gaze, knowing better than to challenge me when I'm angry. 

"You gave him the map?! What are you thinking?" I take my book and hit Fred again before trying to reach across to get George too but George grabs the book out of my hands and hides it under the table. 

"Snitch!" George grumbles to Harry, who takes a seat in the table next to him. 

"Mama's mad," Fred laughs, and I smack his shoulder again with the back of my hand. 

"How come you told her and not me?" Ron questions, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting at the Twins, as Hermione pulls up two more chairs to our table. 

"You don't help with pranks!" Fred justifies, taking a sip of his Butterbeer. 

"Harry, this is serious. You can't just leave that lying around for anyone to find and you shouldn't carry it around in Hogsmeade, especially!" I scold, unable to keep the worry out of my voice. Harry rolls his eyes slightly, tucking the map back in his pocket.

"I told him the same thing! What if Sirius Black finds out about the tunnels? It's like handing him a map straight to you," Hermione adds, seeming very pleased that someone agrees with her. 

"Mia, its locked remember?" George reasons. 

"And it didn't take us that long to figure it out! As first years, mind you. It could be all too easy for someone like Black to figure out." I remember when Fred and George came back to the common room that night, giggling with excitement. They weren't back five minutes before they were asking for my help to figure out how to work it. The twins had found in Flitch's office that tapping your wand on it made it respond to you, so there we sat, huddled around it, and I tapped my wand against the paper, causing ink to spread over the surface. 

"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs sense a friend to mischief and chaos. But to access our secrets, hard earned and well preserved, a promise must be made. Are you up to no good?" The map had read in sloping cursive, which I read out in a whisper to the Twins. 

"Yes! We are up to no good!" Fred had responded, more excited than I'd ever seen him. 

"Swear it. Solemnly," the map had written out, in a different handwriting than before. 

"We do swear it," George had said, tapping his wand against the parchment again. It took an embarrassingly long time to figure out exactly what it wanted us to say; I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. But once we had that figured out, the map became our secret weapon; not even Lee, Angelina and Alicia know about it. 

"Mia! C'mon, it'll be fine! I'll be careful with it and I won't-" Harry started but another breeze from the door opening cut him off and I turn around to see Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid and the Minister of Magic, who Harry and I met for the first time this summer, entering the Three Broomsticks. Hermione and Ron quickly push Harry under the table, spilling some of his Butterbeer in the process. The six of us watch as the group move towards the bar, order and then begin walking towards us. 

"Mobiliarbus!" I whisper, moving the Christmas tree, which was sitting beside our table, to sit in front of the table, hiding the six of us from sight of the teachers and hiding Harry better than our legs would. The teachers sit right on the other side of the tree as Madam Rosemerta, the owner of the Three Broomsticks, delivers their drinks. We sit in a tense silence on our end of the tree, Harry crouched under the table between all our legs, as the teachers converse casually with Rosemerta, who has joined them for a drink, and each other. I silently kick myself for not making Harry return to the castle when I first saw him.

 I'm trying to devise a way to get Harry out of the pub without being seen when Fudge speaks up, pulling me out of my thoughts, "What else but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school over Halloween? Well I believe he is still most certainly in the area." Hermione, Ron, and the Twins all look to me: Hermione's face worried, the Twins and Ron more bewildered than anything and I shift in my seat slightly to lean closer to the tree separating us from the adults. 

"It's been very bad for my business with the Ministry sending dementors into my pub every other night!" Rosemerta scolds, an edge in her voice as she speaks to the Minister. 

"Well they are a necessary precaution! We all know what Black is capable of," Fudge defends. 

"You know, I still have so much trouble believing it. Of all the people to take the Dark Mark, I never would have thought... well I remember him when he was a boy up at Hogwarts," Rosemerta bemuses. 

"I agree, Rosemerta. I was devastated," McGonagall adds. 

"Rosemerta, you don't know the worst of it..." Fudge murmurs. 

"What could possibly be worse than murdering all those people?" 

"Well if you remember Black at Hogwarts, surely you remember who his best friend was?" ask McGonagall quietly. 

"Well 'course! You never saw one without the other, did you? Sirius Black and James Potter were quite a double act," Rosemerta laughs softly. My heart leaps in my chest at the mention of my father and there is a large clang from under our table as Harry drops his tankard, causing the rest of us to flinch but the teachers don't seem to notice.  Is that part of why Black is so determined to kill Harry and I? 

"You'd have thought they were brothers they were so inseparable," Flitwick chimes in. 

"They practically were," Fudge responds. "Potter trusted Black more than anyone else in his life. Black was his best man at his wedding and godfather to Harry. Harry and Euphemia have no idea of course, far too heavy a burden to tell them now." McGonagall hums in agreement and I feel my head spinning but there is no time to dwell on the information because Fudge keeps going. "Back during the war, Dumbledore was tipped off that You-Know-Who was going after the Potters. He told them their best bet was the Fidelius Charm." I make eye contact with Hermione, who shakes her head, as much in the dark on the spell as me. Hermione may be two years younger than I am but her knowledge of obscure spells and such is still beyond much of my own. 

"What is that? How does that work?" Rosemerta inquires, sounding very interested in the gossip being exchanged. Flitwick clears his throat before speaking up. 

"Oh it's terribly complex. The information, in this case the Potters' location, is hidden inside a single a person, in their very soul, oft' called the Secret Keeper. This makes the location impossible to find unless the Secret Keeper gives them up." Flitwick explains, sounding very much like he does in our Charms lectures. "You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters could have searched Godric's Hollow for years and years and never would have found them as long as the Secret Keeper refused to speak." 

"They made Sirius Black their Secret Keeper?" Rosemerta gasps.  I close my eyes and put my hands over my face, overwhelmed, and feel an arm reach around my shoulders. 

"Dumbledore tried to dissuade James from it, even offering to be the Secret Keeper himself, but James insisted it be Black," McGonagall continues. "There was a spy, you see, that seemingly had been passing information from our side back to You-Know-Who but Dumbledore wasn't sure who. He suspected Black due to his families' involvement with the Death Eaters but James insisted. I remember him saying that if he couldn't trust Sirius then he couldn't trust anyone." 

"He was always loyal to a fault, James," Flitwick adds. 

"Not even a full week had the spell been cast-" 

"Black betrayed them?" Rosemerta gasps. 

"He did indeed," Fudge confirms. I sigh and lean into Fred's embrace, his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders. 

"Filthy traitor!" Hagrid bellows causing the whole pub to jump, especially the six of us eavesdropping. Harry groans slightly and I peer under the table to see him rubbing the top of his head. McGonagall and Flitwick both shush Hagrid who keeps speaking. "I saw 'em that night, you know? Dumbledore sent me ter rescue Harry and Mia from the rubble, the poor things. Had jus' pulled them out of the ruins, bloody and screamin' the both of them an' parents dead... an' then Sirius Black pulls up on that flying motorbike. He was all white an' shaky, tellin' me to give 'em the kids. 'Give them to me, Hagrid. I'm Harry's godfather, I'll look after them now' he kept saying. Imagine if I'd given them to 'em! But I said no, Dumbledore had already set up a place for them. Then, he gave me his motorbike and ran off, probably hopin' to disappear." 

"Well the Aurors caught up to him the next day, didn't they? And thank goodness they did," Rosemerta says, sounding incredibly satisfied. 

"I wish I could say we did but it was Peter Pettigrew, another one of the Potters' boyhood friends," Fudge corrects. I've never heard the name Peter Pettigrew before, although I guess I'd never heard of Sirius Black before this summer either. 

"Pettigrew...? Oh! That little lump of a boy that always followed James and Sirius around, yes?" Rosemerta asks to which McGonagall hums in agreement. 

"Eyewitnesses- Muggles- told us that Pettigrew cornered Black sobbing and talking about how could Black have done such a thing. Then reached for his wand but Black was quicker, blew about a dozen people up along with sweet little Pettigrew," Fudge explains quickly. "I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes back then and I was one of the first on the scene, I'll never forget the sight... He had blown a crater in the street, bodies were strewn all about and in the middle of all the chaos, Black stood there laughing with a finger at his feet. A finger, that's all that was left of Pettigrew by the time we got there.... Took twenty Aurors from Magical Law Enforcement to contain Black and he's been in Azkaban ever since."

"Oh my..." Rosemerta breathes and the table is quiet for a moment before she speaks again, "You think Black has escaped to go after the Potter children? And then what? Revive You-Know-Who?" Fear creeps into her voice and I shudder at the thought of coming face to face with the man who betrayed my parents, anger mixing in my chest with the familiar sadness I feel anytime someone talks of my parents. 

"We must assume the worst, yes that may be his plan. But we hope to catch Black long before any harm comes to anyone, let alone the children. Just this-" Fudge says, sounding more nervous than moments before. 

"Minister, if you are to dine with Dumbledore, we really should start towards the castle," McGonagall speaks up, causing a stir of movement and goodbyes. 

Once the danger of being caught has passed, Harry emerges from under the table and the six of us sit in an uneasy silence for a moment. Harry and I meet each other's eyes across the table, my own confusion and anger and anguish reflected in my brother's eyes. Eventually, Hermione speaks up: "We should start heading back. It's near dinner time." 

Harry and I leave the others to walk back the normal way, and I follow Harry into the Honeydukes cellar and through the passage way. 

"Harry, wait," I say, stopping as we near the end of the tunnel. My brother turns to me, waiting for me to continue. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid?" 

"Like what?" Harry crosses his arms over his chest. 

"Like trying to go after Black," I say and Harry tries to speak but I cut him off, continuing to speak. "He isn't worth dying for. You heard the Minister, it took twenty aurors to catch him the first time. You can't go running after him like you've done the last two years. He'll kill you!" 

"Mia, don't start!" Harry yells, the pain in his voice echoing off the stone walls of the tunnel. "And I wouldn't let him kill me because-" 

"Because you'll kill him first?  Harry, listen to yourself. You're not thinking clearly!" I plead. 

"Malfoy knows. He told me so in Potions: 'If it was me, I'd hunt him down myself... I'd take revenge.' I bet his dad told him all about how Black turned-"

"And you're going to listen to Draco Malfoy over me? Of course Malfoy would love if you ran off to try and hunt Black down because you wouldn't come back!" I yell, getting more and more desperate for my brother to listen to me. Harry shakes his head and begins walking again, turning his back on me. "If you go after him, you play directly into Black's hand! Harry think about it, Mum and Dad wouldn't want to you to get killed in a suicide quest for revenge!" 

"Well I'll never know what they would think, will I? Because of Black, and unlike you, I've never spoken to them!" Harry yells, turning back to face me. "You don't understand!" 

I stop in my tracks for a moment, stunned. Sure Harry and I bicker like all siblings, but very rarely have we ever had the kind of blow up fights I've seen the Weasley siblings have. Harry and I depended on each other too much for that. "Harry, that's not fair. I don't remember any of the time I got with them anymore than you remember the first 3 years of your own life! Not any of the good, anyway. Of all the people in the world, I am the one person who does understand. Believe me, Harry, I would love to go after Black and make him pay for what he did to us but we can't." 

We are silent for a long moment before harry finally meets my eyes again. "McGonagall, Dumbledore, Hagrid... they all knew and didn't tell us." I nod, angry about it too, but I stopped expecting adults to tell us everything after Harry's first year. 

"I know... Listen, the dementors and the Ministry are gonna catch Black. Then this summer, we're gonna find an apartment in London, and we'll have as normal as a summer as we can muster. Away from the Dursleys and Black and Voldemort, all of it. But in order to get there, you have to promise me not to go after him, okay?" I step towards my brother, gripping his shoulders, needing him to understand me. Eventually he nods, "Promise." Smiling, I pull him into a hug. He's grown a lot this year and has quickly gotten taller than me. Where I used to cradle his head against my shoulder as he cried silently in the middle of the night so as to not wake the Dursleys, I can barely look over his shoulder now. "C'mon, lets go get some dinner," I say quietly as we break away. Harry nods, pushing up his glasses as he turns down the tunnel and begins walking again. I look down at my left hand, where the lighting scar stretches down the back of my hand to wrap around my wrist, swallow my own anger, and follow my brother back to Hogwarts. 

A/N: A lot of this is from the book so I'm sorry for kind of a boring chapter and sorry there is no Mattheo in this chapter

[kaminocasey]

25 Days of Life Day: Day 25 - Life Day with the Bad Batch

Warnings: None, Flufffff! (Also, this is kind of a part two to the Day 7 Echo one!)

A/N: HAPPY LIFE DAY! MERRY CHRISTMAS! HAPPY HOLIDAYS! WHATEVER YOU CELEBRATE! Thank you so much to everyone who has participated/read/liked/reblogged/interacted with these prompts and fics. You guys are the best and I'm so grateful to all of you! I'm so glad we got to do this year! Already looking forward to next year!!! ❤️💚🎄💚❤️

25 Days of Life Day Masterlist

You’ve spent all year, saving every penny, doing odd jobs and such to make sure that The Batch would have a great Life Day. Especially Omega. Since you've joined the Batch, you’ve become a motherly, or big sisterly type to the girl. Everything you do anymore, is for her. To give her a good life. She deserves the best. 

Sometimes, that can be hard, being on the go at all times. 

“IT’S LIFE DAY EVERYONE! WAKE UP! HUNTER LOOK!” Omega’s excited voice wakes everyone up.

You sit up in your bed, rubbing your eyes, already smiling to yourself as you watch Omega run back and forth between everyone’s rooms to wake them up. You leave your room to go into the kitchen to pour yourself a cup of caf that Omega had been incredibly smart to make. You love that kid.

Walking into the living area, you sit down on the couch as Omega plops down next to you, slinging her arms around your neck as you take a sip of caf. 

“You’re the best! Thank you!” She rests her cheek on your shoulder, grinning widely at the presents underneath the tree. “Hey, now. They’re not all for you.” You chuckle.

Echo comes and sits down on your other side, resting his arm around you as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Don’t fall back asleep!” Omega playfully shakes you.

“Grab the rest of your brothers then, please.” You laugh.

“Hunter! Tech! Wrecker!” Omega goes back through the hallway to go wake up the guys.

You smile at Echo. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He kisses you on the head. “She has no idea does she?” 

“None.” You grin. 

You’d been working on Omega’s gift behind her back for the last couple months and you were excited to finally give it to her. In fact, you were excited to give all of them their gifts. 

“Do you want breakfast?” Hunter comes in and sits down where Omega was seated before. 

“After she opens gifts. She may combust if we don’t let her soon.” You laugh.

Omega was absolutely vibrating with excitement. Finally, Wrecker and Tech come out, still in their pajamas just like the rest of you. Tech sits in the chair by the side of the couch that Echo is sitting on and Wrecker the other. 

“Now?” Omega gives you wide, pleading eyes.

“Now.” You smile, leaning into Echo a little more. 

He squeezes your shoulder as she goes for your gift first, immediately ripping open the nicely wrapped package that you had put together. When she sees the large red crocheted blanket with a giant skull in the middle, she squeals with delight, coming and hugging you. 

“I love it, thank you!” She puts it around herself as she goes back to the tree. 

Next, she opens up Hunter and Wrecker’s gift that they’d been working on all week. It’s the rest of the batch set to go with her clone trooper doll. How sweet. 

She pulls out Echo’s next. Her own tool set to help him and Tech with repairs if she wants. He knows how much she loves tinkering. You grin at Echo, excited that she seems to love the gift, knowing it makes him happy as well. She gets up to wrap her arms around him. 

Last is Tech’s gift. You’d been curious as to what he got her or made for her. He didn’t let anyone know what it was before. She goes to open it and everyone watches curiously. 

She looks up at Tech with big eyes. “My own holopad?” 

You all look at Tech. He’s smiling, softly. 

“As long as you take care of it, yes.” He nods. 

She gets up and gives him a hug, wrapping his arms around her. 

The guys all open their gifts from you next. Tech; new tools. Wrecker; The biggest box of snacks ever. Hunter; A new knife. And Echo… you know he’s happy with anything. But, you had contacted Rex and asked for that photo of Echo, Fives, Cody, and Rex so you could make a physical copy of it. You know that Echo really misses Fives a lot, so you wanted to do something meaningful. 

Echo thanks you by kissing you, resting his forehead against yours. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“This one's for you.” Omega excitedly hands you a small box and you look around at all the guys. “From all of us.”

They’re all smiling or grinning. You weren’t expecting anything at all, so you can’t help but stare down at the box, speechless.

“Open it, cyare.” Echo murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

“You guys-” You start.

“Just open it.” Hunter laughs.

You open the box and find a new reader. And underneath it is a photo in a nice frame of you and the entire Batch. 

“Now, you can read all your books anywhere we go!” Omega rests her head on your knee. 

You run your fingers through her hair. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I love you guys so much.”

“And we love you.” Echo tells you. “But especially me.”

You laugh as Wrecker starts to eat his snacks, which Hunter tells him he’s about to make breakfast and to put the snacks away. 

“Happy Life Day!” Omega tells you, taking Hunter’s spot which was hers first. 

“Happy Life Day!” You grin, looking at your family with the most love and adoration.

This would be a Life Day to remember for sure. 

TAGS: @grievouus @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @twistedstitcher27 @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @crosshairmylove587 @idlenesses @redheadgirl

[pintsizemama]

Letter to Santa

Day 10

Heroes & Heartbreak ‘verse

Welcome to the 2022 Christmas Writing Challenge!

Summary: Isabel writes a letter to Santa.

Pairings: Javier Peña x OFC Ariana Morgan

Fandom: Narcos

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 740

Warnings: language, fluff…let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Another little sneak peek at the possible future of Heroes & Heartbreak!

Day 9 Day 11 Christmas Masterlist Heroes & Heartbreak Main Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

“That looks great!” Ari gushed. Isabel was sitting at the kitchen table working diligently on her letter to Santa. She was so excited. This was the first year she was writing it completely on her own. Ari’s heart warmed to see her precious daughter working so hard. Her tiny tongue was poking out the side of her lips in concentration.

“I think I should use green and red, mama!” Isabel declared in her sweet little voice.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Ari agreed immediately. Isabel was almost five. Where the hell had the time gone? Ari still couldn’t believe she was a mom. Even more shocking was the fact that Javi was a dad. And what a great fucking dad he turned out to be. She heard the front door open and close.

“Where are my girls?” Javi called out from the hall.

“Daddy!” Isabel screamed in joy. She was one thousand percent a daddy’s girl. Javi walked into the room.

“There’s my baby girl!” Javi said happily, scooping her up into his arms. He rained kisses all over her face and she squealed in delight. He settled her on his hip and leaned down to kiss Ari. He cupped the side of her face and kissed her softly.

“Hey, hermosa,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Ari whispered back. He sat in Isabel’s chair and settled their daughter in his lap. He picked up the letter she had been working on and looked it over.

“What do we have here?” Javi asked her.

“It’s my letter to Santa!” Isabel told him.

“Oh, is that right?” Javi replied. “Well, let me see what we’re asking Santa for this year.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “Dear Santa, I want a Furby or a Barbie or a Remington 870 12-gauge shotgun. Love, Isabel Peña.” Javi and Ari stared at each other in shock.

“A shotgun?” Ari asked at the same time Javi exclaimed, “A Furby?” They looked at each other again and burst into laughter.

“Let’s rewind here a minute, mija,” Javi said, putting the letter down on the table. “How the hell do you even know about shotguns? Let alone how to perfectly spell Remington.”

“Abuelo,” Isabel deadpanned.

“Of course,” Javi sighed.

“Well, she was born in Texas,” Ari told him. “Of course she knows about guns.”

“That’s enough sass from you, querida,” Javi growled playfully. He turned to Isabel. “Santa can’t bring you a shotgun, mija. You’re too young.”

“Oh, ok, daddy,” Isabel said immediately.

“And he’s not gonna bring you a Furby either,” Javi added.

“How come?” Isabel pouted.

“Because they’re not toys,” Javi explained. “They’re vessels for demons. Santa doesn’t deal in black magic shit.”

“Javier!” Ari scolded.

“What?” He asked innocently. “Those things are creepy as fuck. It’s not coming in my house.” Ari shook her head and suppressed a laugh.

“Can I ask for a Barbie still?” Isabel asked.

“Of course,” Javi said.

“Awesome!” Isabel cheered. “That’s what I really wanted anyway. I don’t have one with a pink dress yet…maybe I should tell Santa that.”

“I’m sure he knows,” Ari assured her.

“Can we send it now?” Isabel asked excitedly, bouncing up and down in Javi’s lap.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Ari replied. “Let me grab an envelope and we can mail it out first thing tomorrow.”

“Yay!” Isabel shouted and jumped off Javi’s lap to race out of the room.

“That child is one of a kind,” Ari said looking after her.

“I blame her mother for that,” Javi joked.

“Probably,” Ari laughed. Just then they heard cries from upstairs.

“The boys are up,” Ari groaned.

“I’ll grab them, hermosa,” Javi stood and placed a kiss on her temple. “You find that envelope and relax for a bit.”

“They’re going to need to eat,” Ari pouted.

“No problem,” Javi said. “Did you pump today?” Ari shook her head.

“No, I didn’t have time,” she told him. “As soon as they went down for their nap I had to give Isabel lunch, and then she wanted to write the letter.”

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “You get the envelope and meet me up in their room. I’ll keep Miguel happy while you feed Horacio…I know how impatient he gets to eat after a nap.” He disappeared up the stairs. Ari sat a minute in awe of what her life had become. Her husband and children were incredible, and she was so happy to have this amazing family.

Day 11

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[lewis-winters]

'Shielding the other with their body' for Nat and Arthur if you're feeling it? - Nathan <3

after 10000 years @hellofanidea, here it is!

--

Arthur doesn't know how long he's been standing still. Long enough for the buzzing in his ears to go quiet, that much is certain. Everything is so silent now, more silent than the world has any right to be, the ambient noise cushioned by the thick blanket of snow covering all that there is to be covered.

Nevertheless, he's since learned not to trust it; it's deceptive. That's what makes it so alien. A silence like this doesn't immediately mean solitude, and he knows he's just inviting trouble simply by standing here, right in the open, where just about anybody can see him, without even a foxhole or a tree to hide himself behind.

But their newly put up Christmas lights are twinkling at him from their farm house windows, and it takes very little to allow them to mesmerize him into stillness.

"Oh, Arthur!" comes a sudden shout, followed by a muted sounding whump and the crunch-thud of a body taking a bit of a tumble into the snow-- all of it effectively shaking him out of his reverie. Suddenly, his other senses awaken all at once, and blinking up at the dizzying display one last time, Arthur swivels around and looks down, a laugh bubbling from deep in his chest at the sight of Natalie Morse, huffing and sputtering and sprawled across the ground, brushing snow out of her hair.

"That was rude, Matthew," she says to Arthur's sheepish little boy running up to them now, wringing his little glove-clad hands in apology. "What'd I tell ya 'bout aimin' those balls at people who don't know ya aimin' for 'em?"

"Not to do it," Matthew says, as he watches Arthur help his grump of an aunt up and out of the snow. "'M sorry, Papa. I really didn't mean t' throw it that far."

"Yeah, right."

"I didn't, Auntie Nat! I swear!"

"Aww, lay off the kid, Nat," Arthur tsks, finally getting her upright and dusting off the remaining bits of snow off her clothes. "He was jus' playin'."

"Playin' rough and unfair," Nat grumbles, reaching out to give Matthew an admonishing noogie. "C'mere--"

"No!" the little boy squeals and giggles, trying to get away but unable to escape. Dramatically, he flings his hands out at his other companions who're slowly approaching, breathlessly begging for help none of them seem willing to give him. "Daddy!"

"I'd getcha outta there, Matty," George says, grinning from ear to ear. There's snow in his hat, remnants of snowballs past, and several damp scarves in his arms, clearly cast aside in annoyance. Such is the reality of bringing children out in the snow. "But I gotta say you deserve it, right Tab?"

Tab smiles, hefting up his own bundle of squirming child in his arms. "She did tell you, Matty."

Matthew makes another breathless plea, half of it lost in a laugh. Natalie is relentless, though, moving on to tickling his sides until he's practically red in the face. Arthur thinks of intervening, even if they do look like they're having fun, but before he could, Matthew's most steadfast ally, Adelaide, puffs her cheeks out with jealousy, squirming out of Tab's hold to hit the ground running toward her mother.

"Nata!" she whines, flinging her little arms up at Natalie with a pout. "Up! Up!"

"Yeah, alright," Natalie relents, throwing a giggling Matthew over her shoulder to pick Adelaide up and tuck her under her arm.

The little girl squeals, absolutely delighted to be treated like a sack of wheat and not a toddler. "Nata zoom? Zoom!"

Arthur laughs at the look of exasperation that crosses Natalie's face. "You heard the lady."

"My back isn't what it used to be, ya know," Natalie grumbles, tossing Adelaide with practiced ease until the little girl was up on her other shoulder, hanging over her back with Matthew so they can whisper conspiratorially like a pair of deranged monkeys on a vine. "I'm goin' t' throw ya both into the nearest snow drift an' roll ya into a new snowman for Joe to see out the kitchen window."

The threat encourages more than deters, unfortunately, and Natalie takes off (in a jog that is more bounce than run, entirely made to draw giggles from the two children on her back) to do exactly as promised.

[latibvles]

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

DECEMBER 24TH, 1953 — in which Daisy and the kids head up to Philadelphia to celebrate Christmas with the Winters family, sans Ron, who couldn’t get away from Fort Bragg to celebrate the holiday.

WARNINGS: Nothing, except it gets suggestive at the end — but not extremely explicit. Calling Ron by his rank has consequences idk..

TAGS: @brassknucklespeirs who asked for the Christmas Special, AAAND @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @galaxialuz — some sweet DaisRon winter feels for this Christmas <3

“Oh, Dais, would you pass me that? Thank you.” Daisy grabs one of the pretty ceramic bowls, sliding it over the counter to Ginny, who takes it with a smile. Outside, she can hear their boys letting out “battle cries” as they try to knock Dick into the snow. Inside, Laura lays out on the floor, the two year old all tuckered out from playing all morning.

“Careful, I think Robbie might kill your husband,” Daisy snickers, watching through the window as her son latches onto Dick’s calf, fresh powder pluming around him with every step the man takes.

“Just like his dad,” Ginny responds with a bit of a chuckle, before going back to dumping spices into the ceramic bowl. She gives Daisy a glance. “How is Ron doing, by the way?”

Daisy’s smile becomes a little more sullen, glancing down at the countertop for a moment.

“Mad as all hell,” Daisy admits. “He kept apologizing on the phone, I told him to stop worrying about it.”

“I mean, if Dick pulled out a sexy red velvet number last Christmas for me to unwrap I’d be pretty upset to miss out too.” Daisy lightly slaps her friend’s arm, looking back at her daughter as Ginny continues to giggle to herself. Her own face flared up at the memory. It was, for all purposes, Rita’s idea — an early parcel last Christmas that had a little red dress that hardly covered anything, adored with pretty white fur at the top and bottom, and around the cuffs. She’d given Rita an earful about it, her face flushed but… still tried it on. Just to see.

Needless to say the festivities didn’t really stop after they put the kids to bed.

“He calls every night to talk to the kids. Tries to anyway.” Daisy goes to grab the eggs from Ginny’s fridge, and continues to observe as she makes her attempt at gingerbread cookies so the boys could decorate them.

“Are you mad?” Ginny asks with a raised brow.

“At his job? Yes. At him? No.” Daisy’s reply is immediate. They knew what they were getting into when they married — knew they’d be moving around a lot, that his work would take him away from her for extended periods of time. She’d been especially upset when he was deployed to Korea, but even then, they made it work. Now he was at Fort Bragg, she and the kids lived in Tennessee, and they still did their best to make it work.

A testament to that fact was that this is only the second time Ron ever missed a Christmas. He’d been adamant that Daisy still went up to Pennsylvania with the kids, to stay with Dick and Ginny and celebrate anyway, so at least she wasn’t doing the whole “Santa” thing by herself this year.

“You’re a lot stronger than I am, I’ll give you that.”

“He’s not dead Gin, he’s just working.”

“I know I just… well, how’s Robbie taking it?”

Daisy hums in thought, taking half of the dough to cut into little gingerbread men.

The first time Robbie could remember seeing Ron in uniform, he squealed in delight, begging Ron to let him wear his hat (and he did, marching around their living room and demanding that his father give him twenty push ups, which he did with the little boy on his back). Now that he was in kindergarten he liked to tell everyone Ron was a superhero and that he “punched bad guys in the face” for a job. When Robbie asked Ron why he wouldn’t be home — they told him he had to train future superheroes.

He took it well enough, and Ron calling so frequently seemed to help.

“I don’t think he gets it entirely just yet, we’ve been… explaining bit-by-bit what Daddy actually does.” Daisy admits with a bit of a shrug, twisting her silver wedding band for a few moments. Outside, she can hear Robbie holler, and next to her Ginny snickers.

“You sure Ron hasn’t been teaching him combat maneuvers in his free time? He nearly took out Dick’s ankles.”

“Yeah, he actually came out practicing his Foy run,” Daisy remarks sarcastically, and Ginny snorts at that, rolling her eyes.

“Have you met his mother? With all that crazy in him I wouldn’t doubt it.”

Daisy looks up for a moment, able to pinpoint her son’s bright red cap. Little Alan hangs off of his father’s shoulders with a toothy grin, and Dick picks Robbie up by the pits to lift him high in the air. He shrieks excitedly, kicking and squirming in Dick’s hold. She then looks at Ginny, who’s resting her chin on her palm to watch the man with a distant sort of smile. She looks down, and gently pokes her friend’s tummy.

“So do you think it’s gonna be a boy or a girl?” she asks. Ginny turns to look at Daisy again, rolling her eyes.

“Dick wants a girl since Al’s such a momma’s boy. I think it’s gonna be another boy, but what do I know? I’m just the one carrying it.”

“Careful, keep talking so sweetly and someone might think you like your husband.”

“Yeah, just don’t tell him that, it's supposed to be a secret.” Ginny responds with equal sarcasm, and Daisy laughs.

It’s then that they hear another shriek, but not the shrill sound of laughter, and a ‘Daddy!’ Daisy peers out the window and watches Robbie take off down the lawn, with Dick hot on his heels, Alan in his arms, towards—

“No way,” Daisy whispers, and Ginny practically pushes her to get her shoes on, scooping Laura into her arms as Daisy takes off out the door after the three men.

By the time she reaches the lawn, she’s already a bit misty-eyed.

Ron presses kisses to Robbie’s cheek, his hat lopsided on their son’s head. Robbie’s smiling from ear-to-ear, dimples prominent, prattling all about what they’ve done in the three days they’ve been in Philly — as if he didn’t tell Ron about all these things on the phone. His eyes find hers and he chuckles, walking forward with their son in his arms.

“I thought…” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“So did I, managed to pull a few strings. The people on base like me,” he leans down, kissing her sweetly and she can’t stop smiling. He bumps their noses as he pulls away. “Gonna catch a cold, out here in that sweater.” Ron warns. Daisy just smiles a little wider.

“I’ve got you here to keep me warm, don’t I?” As Ginny passes her their daughter and she reaches out to grab at Ron’s nose, he smiles wider.

“That you do.”

Ron can’t bake without the supervision of at least half of Daisy’s side of the family — but decorating cookies with Dick and the kids works just as well, Laura perched on his lap and grabbing fistfuls of candy. He keeps a watchful eye, ensuring it doesn’t all go into her mouth, wipes Robbie’s face of white frosting and all the while Daisy can’t stop smiling, pressing kisses to the top of his head and muttering quiet “I love you”s and “I miss you”s in his ear, which he returns.

They get the kids to bed eventually, all tuckered out from the day’s events and Ron’s surprise visit. Alan and Robbie share Al’s bed, and Laura has been using Al’s old toddler bed. After that, the four of them set up all the presents under the glittering tree in the living room, share the four gingerbread cookies laid out, and stay up for a little while longer until Daisy and Ron retreat to the guest bedroom.

Daisy keeps running her thumbs over Ron’s face, her cheeks hurt from smiling as she gazes down at him.

“So, remind me, when did you leave?”

“Three in the morning from Kentucky,” he responds simply, and her brows furrow for a moment. “I slept on the train, sweetness, don’t yell at me.”

“I can’t yell at you, the kids are sleeping.”

“You’d find a way,” he retorts, and she can’t help but smile, tucking her face into the crook of his neck for a moment. “Anyways, got on the train from Fort Bragg, we stopped in Maryland. That was when I called you.”

“That explains all the noise in the back,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his neck, his jaw, and then his cheek, enjoying the small, shuddering breath he takes, and the way his fingers dig into her hips a little tighter. “But I’m… glad you made it. Think one more day here and Robbie might’ve broken Dick’s leg.” Ron chuckles, a low noise rumbling through his chest and Daisy grins a little wider.

“That’s your son, Dais.” He insists with a slight hum to his voice, hands slipping under her shirt to rub circles into her hip bones, she shakes her head.

“He’s at least 50% you. I’d argue maybe even 60% since he’s got your eyes. Takes two to make a baby.” Ron’s grin turns somewhat wolfish as he looks her over, hands moving to press into her back.

“Does, doesn’t it?” he mutters, trailing off for a moment. “We’ve gotten pretty good at that. Rearing kids.” Daisy can’t help but giggle as Ron leans forward to press a few kisses to the column of her throat.

“You trying to raise an Army or something?” she mutters, letting out a quiet gasp when he nips a certain spot on her neck.

“Well I think they have a mighty fine CO, Lieutenant Speirs,” he mutters, and she can feel his grin against her neck. Daisy laughs again, carding her fingers through his hair.

“I’d have to agree, Major Speirs.” In time with the use of his rank, she gives a gentle tug to the hair at the base of his neck. Ron pulls his face from her throat to look at her with eyes blown wide, lips parted. All Daisy does is smile at him, and shift a little in his lap.

Even when Ron leans forward to press his lips to hers again in a heated kiss, and flip them over so he’s on top of her, she can’t stop the laugh that bubbles from her throat. Ron reaches for her hands and pins them above her head, pulling away for a moment to stare down at her — hair fanned across the mattress, eyes sparkly as she stares up at him. He takes a look over at the clock on the dresser, then back to her.

“Merry Christmas, Dais,” he murmurs. Wrapping her legs around his waist a little tighter, she nods.

“Merry Christmas, Ron,” and despite the hand pinning down her wrists, she reaches up to give him a kiss that’s a little softer, and he lets her wrists go to pull her impossibly closer to him.

Welcome home.

[buckets-and-trees]

Christmas Eve Eve [Bucky x Reader]

Fandom: MCU

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x gn!Reader, background Sam + family

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Just a Christmas Eve Eve. Nothing special or dramatic, and yet that’s the beauty of it.

Content Warnings: fluff, and be careful not to knock over the blanket fort!, fluff for the sake of fluff

Additional Notes: Woke up, wanted to give Bucky some soft fluffy holiday time this morning, thought about it while I was getting ready to go visit fam for the holidays, wrote it. Thus bloomed this fifth installment of the 2022 Holiday Extravaganza.

A/N 2: Also, just … decided I wanted Sam to have an adorable little family sitch going on because SAM WILSON DESERVES THE WORLD! And of course he’s the best dad and dotes on his kids with any moments he can have with them, and of course loves hard on his queen of a wife. OKAY THAT’S ALL.

A/N 3: I know there are quite a few new faces since posting my Namor fic... and this is NOT that, hahaha. I wanted some soft holiday fluff for Bucky, but I also needed to just take a gentle jaunt after putting my whole ovarios into that fic last night hahaha.

A high-pitched squeal broke into tiny giggles and then a mini human with fluffy hair came running madly past Bucky in the hallway, her father chasing after her, warning how he’s going to capture the toddling little girl and take her away for bath time.

Bucky stopped as he rounded the corner to the living room and leaned against the entryway, taking in the scene before him. Sam had trapped little Leanne on the couch and was smothering her with tickles and kisses while she squirmed in delight, clearly not wanting to escape her daddy’s attention. Closer to the Christmas tree, a modest but impressive blanket fort had been erected. You were hunkered within its cozy walls reading a book with five-year-old Terrence pressed up against your side and a small mountain of books still waiting next to him.

“Samuel!” Janelle blustered in from behind him. “I know you’re doing your daddy thing, but we’ve got to keep things moving tonight!”

“I am but here to do your bidding, my queen,” he said, immediately scooping Leanne up.

“How you manage to save the world when you can’t manage to get this girl to her bath time and bed is beyond me.”

“Maybe I’ll have to try again with my other girl later tonight,” Sam quipped back, planting a quick kiss on his wife’s cheek as he walked past.

Janelle laughed and swatted him away. “If we ever get to bed tonight! You know what we’ve got to tackle later.”

“It’s why I brought in reinforcements, babe,” he called over his shoulder, already on his way to the bathroom.

“You don’t have to take a bath tonight, but you’re going to be next, young man,” she said, pinning Terrence with her motherly stare.

“But it’s Christmas Eve Eve! Can’t I stay up?”

“You know Santa’s still watching to make sure you’re a good boy, he hasn’t packed up all the presents in his sleigh yet.”

“Just five more books!”

“Five?” she exclaimed.

Bucky tried to keep a straight face as your eyes met and he saw you were trying not to shake too much with your own silent laughter.

“Because I’m five!”

“How many books have you two already read tonight?”

“Um… just some. She does the best voices!”

“Aw, thank you,” you said, squeezing his little shoulder as your arm was wrapped around him.

He grinned up at you, then turned his face back to his mom. “Please.”

“One more.”

“Four more?”

Janelle pressed her lips together, but had a soft twinkle in her eye. “Tell you what, you were such a good helper with your sister earlier today, if you go run and put on your pajamas and brush your teeth, you can come back and read three more books if–“

“If?” he eagerly hangs on the condition.

“If it’s okay with y/n.”

Terrence looked up at you again.

Bucky loved seeing that easy and eager smile on your face. “You go brush those teeth like nobody’s business, and I’ll be waiting right here! Maybe Bucky will even read with us when you get back.”

“I’ll be so fast!” Terrence said, jumping up and darting out of the room.

“Thank you,” Janelle sighed, sinking down on the couch for a moment. “Both of you.”

“Like Sam said,” Bucky chimed in, “we’re reinforcements tonight. Happy to help with anything you need.”

“Mostly it’s just that marathon of present wrapping as soon as both the kids are asleep, but if you’re good to read to Terrence until Sam gets Leanne down and can come put Terrence to bed, I actually need to call my mom to confirm their travel plans coming in tomorrow?”

“Of course!” you answered. “Even though I do the best voices, Bucky and I are both excellent readers. Take care of whatever you need to.”

“You really are helping more than you know,” Janelle said, smiling warmly at both of you as she went into the other room.

Bucky moved closer, and you held your hand out to pull him down and into the fort with you. He had to be careful as he settled in among the pillows and blankets, his big frame only just fitting in the cozy structure. As he leaned back into the mountain of fluff piled up against the wall, you cuddle up next to him, and he hummed happily as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“Hey!” Terrence ran back into the room at full speed, pulling up full stop only a foot away from the entrance to the fort. “You took my spot!”

“We’ll make room for my favorite godson,” Bucky said. “Don’t you ever worry about that.”

With a little jostling around, the three of you fit snugly together and got to reading, Terrence sandwiched between you. A whole seven books later – to Terrence’s delight – the young Wilson was ultimately taken away for his own bedtime with Sam. Then the table in the kitchen got converted to Santa’s wrapping headquarters, Bucky and you assisting to bring in presents from the strategic hiding places, pulling out the paper, tape, ribbons, tags, and bows. The marathon truly did last for hours, the last gift finally wrapped just a little after midnight, but the laughter and conversation between all of you as friends made the time and the task go by easily.

You held Bucky’s hand on the drive back to your apartment, the two of you singing along to the radio on and off as some of the melodies drew you in.

You collapsed into bed, and Bucky followed, though you dropped off to sleep almost immediately, and Bucky was up a little longer, his mind buzzing over the day – Christmas Eve Eve with the Wilsons.

Bucky’s had a fair few holiday seasons that have been filled with this kind of warmth and joy. The first had felt unreal and undeserved, but with each holiday – with each everything over the years – he’s becoming more and more natural at just living life. He’s pracitally reveling in the beauty of the normal and the special, forgotten dreams from his 40’s self, the things he never thought about as the Winter Soldier, didn’t think he deserved after escaping that life, but realizing he can have now that he’s really and truly him again. It was the first time doing the holidays this way, and only his second Christmas with you. He wants more of this – the normal and the special firsts, seconds, thirds and more of everything. When he turns on his side, studying the familiar silhouette of you next to him, he knows who he wants more nights of laughter, kisses, conversation, and living life with, too.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[midnight-fauna]

pretty girl (i'll wear a skirt for you)

A/N: Originally posted on my Ao3 under "TheExtrovertOutcast"

Pairings: Nancy Wheeler/Robin Buckley

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 1762

Summary: Nancy dresses up Robin for Pennhurst. Robin does the same.

Ronancetober Day 3: Body/Style Swap

“Academic scholar? She’s giving you an academic scholar vibe? Yeah,” Steve asked, gesturing accusingly to Robin with a raise of his eyebrows. Robin glared at him, shutting the music box in her hands with a small thud and placing it back on the dresser. 

You’re just mad I stole your girl, Robin said with her gaze, boring deep into Steve’s. His eyes immediately widened defensively.

I am not! Steve mouthed back, understanding what Robin meant without her even having to save a word. 

“No, but,” Nancy said, interrupting the two’s mental conversation, “she will.”

Robin looked over to see Nancy proudly holding the most ridiculously feminine dress she’d ever seen. It was a blush shade of pink and absolutely covered in frills. From her spot on the other side of the bedroom, Robin could already tell how uncomfortable and itchy the fabric would be on her skin. “Oh… please tell me that you’re joking,” Robin groaned. 

~~~

Unfortunately for Robin, Nancy was not joking. 

Robin eyed the dress with disgust as Nancy took the seat beside her on the bed. Steve had left the room, finally allowing the girls a taste of privacy. It was the only upside to the whole ordeal. 

“Robs, come on, it’ll just be for a few hours,” Nancy reasoned, taking Robin’s hand in hers and placing their intertwined fingers in her lap. Since the shitshow at Starcourt Mall, the two girls had begun to get to know each other better. Once winter had rolled around, a Christmas movie night had left the girls a little too close to one another. Nancy had reached up and kissed the whipped cream off Robin’s lip and the two had been history ever since. 

“That thing” - Robin pointed at the dress - “is going to suffocate me.” 

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “So, you have a problem with a dress collar but not my hands around your-”

“Nance!” Robin interrupted her, her face reddening immediately. 

Laughing, Nancy stood up, hoisting Robin up with her. “C’mon. As much as I adore seeing you in your suits, misogyny requires you wear a dress so we can meet with Creel.” 

At that, Robin’s face lit up, causing Nancy’s to immediately scrunch up with suspicion. She knew Robin only got that look when she was planning something. 

A delighted grin spread across her lips, Robin rushed over to her backpack and began rustling through it. “If I have to wear that cocoon of death-”

“That’s a bit dramatic.” 

“- I think it’s only fair you try on some of my clothes.” Robin emerged with a handful of denim and flannel. “Deal?”

“Robs, we have to go soon-”

“You can change right back, ‘promise,” Robin insisted, hands raised in a show of sincerity. “It’ll be fun! It’s like… a style swap! Freaky Friday but just with our clothes!”

“Freaky… Friday…?”

Robin gasped dramatically. “You haven’t seen Freaky Friday?! Nance, that’s a classic! That’s it - after we kill this demonic motherfucker, I’m absolutely forcing you to watch it.” 

“Fine, we can… do a freaky Friday… whatever the hell that means,” Nancy said, feigning annoyance, but her little smile broke the facade. 

Robin squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together and hopping around the bedroom. She rushed up to Nancy and gave her a peck on the lips. “You first, your majesty.” 

With a huff, Nancy began slipping off her sweater vest. She let it fall to her mattress, starting on the buttons of her collared shirt. Robin couldn’t help but stare in awe, watching her girlfriend like it was the very first time all over again. 

“Keep looking at me like that, Robs, and we might not be back downstairs for another two hours,” Nancy said calmly. Robin immediately flushed at the words, covering her face with her large hands. Her rings were cold against her hot skin. 

“I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to that,” Robin mumbled, peeking between her fingers.

Nancy turned back and smiled at her, walking to the closet and hanging up both the shirt and the vest. “Trust me, I would love nothing more, but unfortunately it’s on us to save the world once again.” 

Robin forced her gaze away as Nancy shimmied out of her skirt, knowing damn well looking would be all too much for her and she’d be a wreck the entire time at the asylum. She expected that having a gay panic over her “colleague” wouldn’t be the best impression for the facility director.

She heard the rustle of fabric and turned back around to see Nancy in her torn jeans, bending down to roll the too-long pant legs up to her ankles. A little inhale lodged in Robin’s throat at the sight. 

“Nancy Wheeler, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Robin confessed. 

“I know.” Nancy came over to Robin, looking up at her with her doe eyes as she shouldered on the oversized flannel, only buttoning two-thirds of the way up. It left the pale skin of her throat and upper chest exposed, a stark contrast to the plaid, dark blue fabric. “I take great pleasure in that, trust me.” 

All self-control left Robin’s system at that point, leaning down and capturing Nancy’s lips in hers. Her stomach fluttered at the little groan that arose from her girlfriend, muffled by their kiss. It was near-dizzying the way every time she kissed Nancy, it felt like their first. A part of her brain still couldn’t wrap around the fact that the Nancy Wheeler, the most beautiful girl in Hawkins, was her girlfriend. She chose Robin. She saw past all of Robin’s awkwardness and clumsiness and chose her.

A soft, manicured hand slid up the nape of Robin’s neck, teasingly tugging at sensitive strands. Nancy’s other hand moved down to grip the cloth of Robin’s striped shirt, pulling her down closer. God, Nancy was a whole five foot four and still had Robin completely and utterly under her control. 

“Please,” Robin begged into the kiss, nearly fucking whimpering when Nancy pulled away, a smug smile tugging at her lips.

“Your turn,” Nancy murmured. She stood on her tiptoes, grip still clutching onto Robin’s collar. Robin could hear the amusement in her voice when she whispered, “I get to see you be a pretty girl for me, Robs.”

That was all the motivation Robin needed. 

She practically leaped out of her clothes. Her whole goddamn body seemed to alight with a blush when she caught Nancy staring unashamedly. 

“Your freckles are so pretty, sweetheart. You really are my whole galaxy, aren’t you?” Nancy’s eyes flicked up to meet Robin’s, who could only nod quickly, at a loss for words. How the hell was she supposed to reply to a compliment that beautiful?

Nancy picked up the dress, smoothing her palm over the top to rid it of any lingering wrinkles. “C’mere, let me help you.”

Robin obeyed without question, standing in front of Nancy and carefully using her shoulders as support as she stepped her legs into the dress. Her breath caught in her throat as Nancy dragged the fabric up, fingertips tracing her bare skin as she went. The gentleness was still foreign to Robin and a small part of her wanted to burst into sobs. Nancy treated her with unbelievable tenderness, slipping on the dress’s straps and carefully turning her around so she could pull up the zipper. She turned Robin back around and clasped the buttons in the front before stepping back and looking at her in awe. 

“My pretty girl,” Nancy murmured, almost only to herself. 

Robin stuffed down her ego and did a little twirl for Nancy’s sake. It was immediately worth it when she heard the melodic sound of Nancy’s delighted laugh. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s… uh, it’s definitely breezy,” Robin noted, awkwardly sitting down on the bed and tucking the skirt down around her. 

Nancy laughed again, crossing the room and grabbing a bag. “Well, your flannel is actually quite comfy. I quite like this switch.” 

“It looks better on you, anyway,” Robin said sincerely, breath hitching when Nancy clambered into her lap, knees on either side of Robin’s thighs. “Oh, uh, shit, hey… there?”

Amusement sparked in Nancy’s warm eyes. “Hey. Mind if I put some makeup on you?”

“Keep calling me your pretty girl and shit, Nance, you can do anything to me,” Robin rasped, voice cracking at her girlfriend’s name. She was a complete mess. 

Nancy kissed Robin’s forehead. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Holy shit. 

Placing the pouch to the side, Nancy began rummaging through it, emerging with a large makeup brush and a peach-colored container. She opened it to reveal packed-down powder. Robin’s makeup knowledge didn’t extend much farther than mascara, so she eyed it with curiosity. 

“Blush,” Nancy answered for her. “I was considering foundation, but it’d be a crime to accidentally cover up any of your freckles.”

Robin relaxed completely when the touch of fluffy bristles caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into Nancy’s touch, moving one hand to mindlessly play with her girlfriend’s curls. She felt heavenly as Nancy continued to do her makeup, letting herself completely submit to the simple commands - “hollow your cheeks”, “part your lips for me”, “hold still” - and the following praises - “such a good girl for me, Robs”, “so pretty”, “you’re doing so well”. 

She didn’t even realize how much time had passed until Nancy was gently nudging her shoulder. “Robin? Baby? Hey, you okay?”

“I’m wonderful,” Robin mumbled hazily, feeling completely safe and loved with Nancy so close to her. She reached forward to kiss Nancy, but a gentle grip on her chin stopped her. 

“Mm-mm.” Nancy shook her head. “You can’t kiss me right now, Robs. I put lipstick on you.”

“Nevermind, I’m actually on the brink of death,” Robin groaned dramatically, flopping onto her back, taking Nancy down with her, who immediately burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Hey, I still have to get changed too,” Nancy complained light-heartedly, hitting Robin’s arm with no real strength behind it. “Let me up.”

Robin closed her eyes again, smiling deviously as she held Nancy close to her chest. “Nope. You’re mine now. The world can save its own ass.” 

Both of them knew that Nancy was quite strong and could easily pull herself out of the hold, but she didn’t. It made Robin’s stomach flutter. 

“Fine, two minutes of cuddling,” Nancy said, placing a kiss on Robin’s jaw. 

“Ten,” Robin countered. 

“Three.”

“Eight.”

“Four.”

“Seven.”

“Five.”

“Six.” 

Nancy chuckled, burying her face into the crook of Robin’s neck. 

“Alright, Robs, six minutes.” 

[mytheoristavenue]

Day 2: Gareth + Mistletoe

Summary: Gareth catches you under the mistletoe with him!

Warning: Sexual tension, light make out

You hummed sweetly as you straighten out the table cloth on the game table, setting out little treats and snacks. You had pitched the idea to Eddie for short a Christmas themed campaign, which he loved. He put you in charge of nearly the whole thing- save for actually coming up with the story, that was his job. You had recruited your best friend, Gareth to come to the meeting an hour early with you so the two of you could decorate.

"And that's that done," he sighed, stepping back and admiring his handiwork with hands on hips. He'd been hard at work, stringing lights all around the room, and Eddie's chair.

"Plug them in, I wanna see!" you chirped, running over to him excitedly. You gasped before squealing in delight at the sight of the thrown illuminated in soft, colorful lights. "Eddie's gonna freak!"

"Yeah, and his ego'll be even more inflated that usual." Gareth snicker, catching a glare from you. He sighed at your disappointment, before walking back over to the box of decorations. "I'm sure everyone's gonna love it." As he dug through the heaps of garland and ornaments, he noticed something that peaked his interest at the very bottom of the box. It was a small green sprig, with a small bunching of shiny red berries, tied at the end of the set with a piece of twine. "Hellllo?" he smirked. "What's this now?"

You glanced back at him absentmindedly, recognizing the thing he dangled between his finger tips. "Mistletoe? Don't you think that'll be a little weird to put up?"

"Not necessarily," he answered, creeping toward you with it. "Who say we have to hang it up?"

"What do you want to do with it, use it as a centerpiece?" you rolled your eyes, returning to your garland hanging, pressing your chest to the wall while on tippy toes.

"Was kinda thinking I could just hold it." he admitted. "Just like this the whole night." With a sigh, you pivoted to face him, only to find him invading your personal space, the sprig hoisted above the small space between you by his arm. You froze for a second, your face heating up at an astronomical rate.

"G-Gareth, I..." you began, only to trail off, unsure of what you even wanted to say in the first place.

He feigned surprise, glancing up and doing a doubletake at the decoration with a dramatic gasp. "Woah, look, mistletoe!" Smirking, he leaned into your flustered face, nearly muttering. "Guess that means we gotta kiss..." You remained silent, lips slowly parting, staring up at him shyly through half lidded eyes as he drew closer. "Do you want me to kiss you?" he whispered, almost seductively, lips almost close enough to brush against yours. Very carefully, you nodded, and he closed the distance between you.

Your tummy did flips as he kissed you, his fingers tangling against the back of your scalp, while yours gripped the frayed lapel of his flannel for dear life. As he tore away from you, he immediately dove back in, fulling pressing you against the wall, his chapped lips attacking yours with playful want. The irritation in your cheeks grew ever worse as you felt his tongue drag across your bottom lip, prompting you to shyly part, allowing him to slither in. You could feel drool dribble down your chin as his tongue played with yours, stroking and twirling with delight.

Suddenly, the jiggling of the door handle separated the two of your like oil and water, both of you standing frozen, several feet apart and staring at the door as your DM walked in. "What the hell?" he asked, eyeing you both suspiciously. "You look like I caught you fuckin'." he joked, setting his things down as you both tensed even further. "Oh wow!" he shouted, prompting you to glance at Gareth with a panicked expression.

"This shit looks awesome!" he praised, sitting down in his now neon chair. "You lit up my chair, cool!"