#and then once december is over i’ll switch to a different one

[dabin]

lots of new mutuals and december is approaching…

[irondadmadlads]

The Shoebox Problem

A/n: For @call-me-coley . Thank you for talking through ideas with me @yes-i-am-happyaspie .

December was a busy month for Tony Stark. With the holidays on the horizon, the hero planned multiple galas and charity events. At least once a week balls were attended by Tony. Sometimes the man went by himself. Other times, Pepper would join him. Even Peter accompanied him once or twice.

Only those closest to him knew the real reason he made an extensive amount of plans during the winter month. As a distraction from his parents’ deaths.

But that’s neither here nor there. This story is about the shoebox problem. Underneath Tony’s tree were dozens of gifts. Every one about the size of a shoebox. And they were all addressed to the same person: Peter Parker.

Tony was overjoyed to learn Peter and May would be spending Christmas with Pepper and himself. The holiday was usually a lonely one for the billionaire. Sure, Pepper would spend the day with him. But while she received calls from her extended family wishing her “Merry Christmas,” Tony’s phone remained silent.

But this year would be different. With Peter and May Parker keeping the man company, there’s no way he could possibly feel lonely.

So when his phone rang with Peter’s contact, his heart skipped a beat. Did something come up? Did they have to cancel. Tony hesitantly answered it.

“Hello?”

“Merry Christmas Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed. Through the receiver, Tony could hear the boy coughing.

“Merry Christmas Peter,” Tony replied. “What time are you and May coming over?”

“Actually…” the boy trailed off and Tony’s anxieties began to return full force. Of course, spending Christmas with his mentee was too good to be true.

But the boy’s sentence surprised him. “I’m downstairs…”

“Downstairs?” Tony asked. It didn’t take him long to realize exactly what Peter was implying when he said “downstairs.” The teen had a tendency to end up in Medbay. Tony sighed, “What did you do this time?”

“Nothing,” Peter replied, before breaking into a coughing fit. “I have the flu.”

Tony frowned. He then looked back at the tree with dozens of boxes under it. Even if the boy was in Medbay, he could still make his Christmas a good one.

“I’ll be right there.”

Tony entered Avenger’s Medbay about half an hour later. He was carrying a few boxes in his hands. Peter gave the man a wary smile, despite being in the sterile hospital room.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter greeted. “Thank you for the gifts… you really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Tony replies. “There’s more than this.”

Peter’s eyes widen. And this is where the shoebox problem comes in.

About a month before the holiday, Tony asked Peter what he wanted for Christmas. Peter replied nothing big. “Think shoebox sized,” he said specifically. But that’s the only limitation the boy set. He didn’t give Tony a price limit. Nor a limit on the gifts themselves.

So that’s how Tony ended up carrying a pile of medium sized gifts into Peter’s hospital room.

“Mr. Stark…” Peter frowns. A shiver wracks his body and he pulls the sheet closer to himself. “How much did you spend on me…?”

“Nothing is bigger than a shoebox,” Tony deflected. And Peter could only sigh. The man had a point.

Seeing Peter’s defeat, Tony handed him a gift to open. It took him longer than usual due to the IV in his left arm, but he eventually got it open nonetheless.

Peter raised a brow, “I thought I said nothing big-“

“Nuh uh-uh,” Tony quickly could Peter off. “It’s shoebox sized.”

And unfortunately, the man was right. “Thank you for the Switch, Mr. Stark…”

Tony beamed, “Ready for the next one?”

Peter nodded and let Tony continue to hand him gifts. The boy realized he probably should’ve given Tony a gift limit. He definitely should’ve given Tony a price limit. Because he’d ended up with a new phone, new watch, tickets to Disneyland, tickets to Hamilton, video games for his Switch, and multiple gift cards.

“Okay buddy,” Tony handed a gift to Peter. “Last one.”

Peter opened it to see a teddy bear dressed in a little Iron Man suit. The boy beamed. “He’s my favorite!”

Tony chuckled. “Really? It was a gag gift,”

“It’s you,” Peter replied. “You’re my favorite,”

“Oh…” Tony glanced back at the sickly boy. He was ignoring his games and new phone to cuddle with a cheap teddybear that was dressed as his mentor.

The boy let out a yawn and placed his head on the pillow. The iron man teddy in his arms. “Thanks for the gifts,” Peter murmurs. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat. Peter called him “dad.” The man placed a kiss on the boy’s forehead as he drifted off to sleep. “Merry Christmas.”

[theartfulv]

The Making Of My Lockwood & Co. Animatic!

Some people wanted to know about the process on Discord (and I’ve said most of this on there though I think this will be a little more coherent) but I thought maybe the lovely folks on here might be interested too!

This will probably be quite long so bare with (it was over a month of my life 😂)

maybe I’ll be cool and split this into sections

The Beginning/ Scripting Phase

Originally I’d planned for it to focus solely on George and the bone glass, so all of The Whispering Skull, and scripted as such.

(If you want to see the first rendition let me know I’ve still got it all saved 👀)

Generally when I approach lyric based projects I copy down the lyrics, separate them into sections and then write a description of what I want to happen on each line with camera angles and any general cinematography or editing notes.

(I will say though I’ve switched to writing on top of my music file so I can describe everything to the beat and see the timing of each sequence)

So after planning it all out, collecting screenshot references, making numerous Pinterest boards and the thumbnail… I scrapped it.

Peak planning on my end. 🫠 So I scripted the second rendition which was a total of…

Yeah…. That’s it. That is all I scripted and just made sequences up as I went along! Though I did take heavy reference from my original script for the bone glass sequence.

As you can see it was to a completely different section of the song and some of it differs from the final, i.e I didn’t end up using a canted angle in this sequence or any shallow focus.

The Boarding Process

Again I made up sequences as I went! So I started with the beginning for once?! Drawing in Sketchbook Pro and editing the frames together using HitFilm.

(FLASH WARNING)

I planned it so I’d spend half of my time on rough boarding and the other half on finalising it, so 8 seconds per day, which is a lot of work and can range from anywhere between 2hrs and 8hrs… commitment 💪

I did the majority of it during my Christmas break but other than that I just worked on it whenever I wasn’t at college.

So this is what all of my original boards looked like!

Anyway! Onto the first dilemma… The Bone Glass.

After boarding about 20 seconds of the start and one Combe Carey frame (the outside of the hall) I decided to work on the Bone Glass section, originally I’d planned for all the 7 spirits the fly into the frame and merge together to create the bone glass that didn’t happen… but I was inspired by kaleidoscopes and thought that’d be cool too. So I attempted to create that sequence and it was so stressful 😂

Somehow I miraculously figured out how to spin all the different layers in different directions and then inverted each one every second alternating! Then I had to export the file and put it into my actual Animatic which HitFilm did not like at all…

Eventually I managed to export it and that allowed me to zoom out/cut outwards whilst the sections were moving and inverting and then I created the second section with the spiral which HitFilm also did not appreciate so I had to make the file much smaller but I think it worked out anyway!

Then I continued to work out of order…

I did parts of Combe Carey (which is actually quite different from the final version) and then got to work on my favourite sequence!

(Or rest of the sequence) George’s section/ The Bone Glass, and just had this image mixing the original papers taped up in his room with a suspect board, I had visions of Roxanne in Megamind working out Megamind’s next plan/ superhero Titan and the intro of A Series of Unfortunate Events.

I think I’m always very heavily influenced by other media and material and thought it’d be a fun nod to some of my previous hyperfixations.

And I think this is when my plan of ‘do the rough half first then the final half later’ failed… because I finalised all of these frames before even finishing the rest of the roughs 😭

At this point it was about the 27th December and I had about a minute of footage.

After that I realised that I actually had total creative freedom and that’s when I did the first half of the Combe Carey sequence with Annabel’s shadow and the Red Room door!

This then led me to take much more liberty with the rest of the animatic including Annabel hovering over Lucy, The Spiral Section of The Screaming Staircase and The Monks!

Throughout this project I studied so many different pieces of concept art and different storyboards, beats and random animatics to gain insight and inspiration which led me to create a new Pinterest board!!! 🥳

Then…

Disaster struck (except it didn’t but it felt like it)

My PC decided to stop working… then… My GPU broke!?!

Yeah… so no drawing for me!

Oh and all of my files turned blue!!!

Somehow I managed to transfer all of my files onto another family member’s PC who thankfully let me draw on it for the foreseeable/ until it was done (absolute legend) but I’d still lost 3 days working time… which at this point was the equivalent of 24 seconds… and it was not looking good for me and the deadline.

In my head I just had to finish it for the anniversary of the show.

But life went on and so did my college work aka. I had exam week… yeah did I revise for it… (the answer is very little but I actually was only 2 marks of an A so I think that I was pretty iconic) and I also planned all of my coursework (due on the 29th… yikes). But I did it!!!

Then I had a power cut…

But it was okay!!! And I finished it (had to do 14 seconds worth of work on the day of but I finished it!!)! There were a lot of sequences that I’d had to cut or shorten which I’m not too happy about but I finished it!!!

And I guess that’s it really!

As a final thing I thought I’d share a few of my favourite frames :)

That’s All!! If you’d have any questions or thoughts let me know!!!

I LOVE YOU LOCKNATION 😭😭😭

[chierafied]

December Drabbles Day 13 - The Gingerbread Maestro

Read on AO3.

Banner fan art by the amazing @sayuri-liu

For @kaoruhana08. You are such a sweetheart and you've been such a great support to the fandom. Thank you so much for all that you've done, I really appreciate you! 💖

Prompt by Agustina. Thank you!

Day 13 - The Gingerbread Maestro

As it often was, Sesshoumaru’s mother had been the instigator. She’d given them the idea, quite literally, by handing them a gift card for Sesshoumaru’s birthday. A tell-tale smirk had played on her red lips as she’d done it. But in the end, the joke was on her: The couple’s cooking class had become a Saturday tradition that Kagome and Sesshoumaru both enjoyed. 

So much so that they’d continued with it, even after the gift card had run out. 

Sesshoumaru, in particular, had started to spend a lot more time in the kitchen back home. It had become his domain. But he gracefully tolerated Kagome’s occasional — and messy — forays in it.  

Today was their last cooking class of the year, and they'd be making gingerbread cookies. It was both a topical theme and something easier and more relaxing to end their year of lessons on. Sesshoumaru studied the recipe intently as if he were cramming for the university entrance exams. Meanwhile, Kagome gathered up all their supplies and ingredients and switched on the oven.

By now, they worked as a seamless unit, each comfortable in their role. Once Sesshoumaru had finished poring over the recipe, Kagome gave it a quick skim. She started grating the ginger while Sesshoumaru measured their ingredients and added them into a mixing bowl. Done with the ginger, Kagome took over the mixing bowl. She stirred the ingredients into a dough enthusiastically, humming to herself as she worked. Sesshoumaru kept measuring this and pouring in that. He worked in silence, but the smile on his face was genuine.  

And so it went, this coordinated dance until their dough was ready and left to cool in the freezer. They gathered around their instructor, as she guided them through different piping techniques.  

“You can use many different food colourings with your icing. But there’s also the option of using melted white chocolate if you want a shortcut.” 

“Mmmh, chocolate,” Kagome hummed.  

Sesshoumaru chuckled. “Shortcut sounds like your speed, anyway.” 

“Oh, I’ll leave all the chef snobbery to you,” Kagome agreed.  

Kagome was all ready to brandish the rolling pin when they were finally ready to get down to business, but Sesshoumaru snatched it out of her hand. 

“We’ll need the sheet to be even.” 

Kagome rolled her eyes. “Would you like me to get you a ruler?” 

Sesshoumaru seemed to consider the suggestion, before finally shaking his head. Kagome bit her lip to keep from laughing at his concentrated frown as he rolled the dough thinner with excessive care. He actually bent to take a closer look at the edge of the dough, before he nodded in satisfaction. 

“Now it’s your turn.” 

Kagome grinned. Armed with the cookie cutters, she stamped away, punching out a cavalcade of different shapes. Then, she got the baking sheets ready while Sesshoumaru painstakingly peeled off the edges of the dough and lifted the cookies onto the pan.  

Kagome did opt for the shortcut. She melted the white chocolate and snacked on the leftover gingerbread dough. Sesshoumaru, of course, opted for the traditional icing in various colours. Like a proper little Chef Fancypants. 

When the time came, Kagome embraced her artistic side, drawing small lopsided hearts and giving her gingerbread men cutesy faces. She was particularly proud of that even row of buttons on the last one and turned to Sesshoumaru to brag.  

Kagome’s jaw dropped open. Her brain tried to register everything her eyes were seeing, but all the flourishing swirls, elaborate patterns and precise latticework patterns defied logic. 

“Oh my god,” Kagome breathed. First of all, Sesshoumaru was looking adorable with his nose all scrunched up like that, but more importantly... “I didn’t know this was an art competition. You’re over here channelling Michelangelo.” 

Sesshoumaru shrugged and brushed back his bangs. “I may have gone a little overboard.” 

“They look absolutely fantastic.” 

“I do admit I’m showing off with these, a little bit.” 

“A little?” Kagome raised her eyebrow. “I’m not sure these can even be eaten. We should just frame them and hang them on the wall.” 

The corner of Sesshoumaru’s lips twitched. “I thought we should give these cookies to my mother.” 

Kagome burst into laughter. “Oh, we totally should! I can’t wait to see her face.” 

“Speaking of faces, you have icing on yours.” 

And as he leaned in to lick icing off her cheek, Kagome vowed that they’d had to come back to the cooking classes for next year. 

[nimbasa-librarian]

A Special Challenger Appears

“Master Anya!” Called a voice from the vestibule

Anya sighed, hands full of two rather delicate archive boxes “Aye, Patrick?”

“You have visitors!” He announced

“... Visitors, ‘r challengers?” Anya requested a little specification as she put one bin away with Drew’s assistance. 

“Uh.. I think one of them is a challenger? The other one is just visiting, she said” 

“... Who are they?” Anya questioned as she started putting away the next bin. 

“She said not to tell you….?” Patrick admitted “It's a surprise, she said.”

Anya’s brow furrowed - confusion evident in her and her Yamask’s face. She shut the archive locker, waiting for the secure click and beep. 

“... I will be up soon” The librarian nodded. 

“I’ll let them know!” Patrick called back before she heard his dress shoes “clack” up the stairs. Drew’s head tilted curiously

“Yahma?” 

“Let’s see, Drew” The woman sighed “Let’s hope it's not Elesa with December again. I don’t need ‘er tryin’ me again so soon

Anya and her pokemon made their way back up the stairs and into the library, towards the front circulation desk, seeing a familiar oversized sweater contrasted against dark skin, joined by a pale boy with a pikachu on his shoulder.  

“Hi Miss Anya!” Iris greeted, keeping her voice low for the sake of the echoey library foyer

Pleasantly surprised, Anya waved back, with her Yamasks floating forward to greet the teenager and her friend “Ah, Hello, Iris” 

The young champion grinned at the librarian pleasantly - her friend next to her giving Anya an interested stare before he was distracted by Drew and Daniel

“My friend here wanted to take your challenge!” The girl sounded very enthusiastic, bouncing a bit before motioning over to the boy “This is my friend, Ash! He’s from Kanto!” 

“Hiya!” Ash waved, voice surprisingly boisterous.

“Sh!!!” a gaggle of people hissed at him from the nearby children's library area

The teenager tensed at the wordless scolding- the library was clearly not a place he frequented with that volume of voice. 

“Sorry” he shrugged nervously - several decibels lower, and getting an amused chuckled out of his friend. 

“Aye, i’s fine.” Anya reassured with a raised hand “Nice t’meet ya, Ash. I’m Anya Ambermight, and these are m’yamasks, Drew ‘n’ Daniel” 

“Yah!” 

“Yah!” 

The teenage boy stared wide-eyed at the Yamasks with sheer wonder “Oh wow! Two different Yamasks! A Glarian one to boot!” 

Iris began scolding him before anyone could even shush him “Ash, stop yelling!” 

“Yahmah?” 

“Mas-Mask!” 

Anya chuckled with a shake of her head. “So, ye wanted t’take m’challenge?” Anya asked, getting everyone’s attention once more. 

Ash collected himself a bit, before lowering his tone again to respond “I mean, yeah! Iris told me about it - and I can’t believe I’ve never heard of it before! Sounds like a real challenge, and my pokemon and I love a good challenge, right Pikachu?” 

The pokemon on his shoulder nodded excitedly.

“Yeah! And when I told him I haven’t beaten you yet, he really wanted to give it a try” Iris chuckled “Right?”  

“Haha, guilty is charged. Kinda wanna beat her to it” Ash grinned.  

“Pika!” 

The librarian waved them over as she turned around “Follow me, then” 

Anya led the friends to the back of the library, where the arena was, with the study hall on one side, a reading area on the other, and the two circulation desks hard at work. 

Anya turned around once they were in the center of the arena, hand on her hip “So… Did Iris tell ya ‘bout the rules?” 

Ash shrugged honestly “Kinda!” 

Anya sighed, not seeing Iris’s excited grin “Alright. Lemme give ya the rules, then.” 

Anya made a sign to one of the librarians behind the left circulation desk who nodded, and flipped two switches behind said desk. One of them turned on the disc, which made a soft whirring sound before going quiet again, and flashing green. The other seemed to activate some kind of protective shield around the area - which seemed to startle Ash and his Pikachu. 

“Up above us is “the disc”, i’s a noise sensor.” she slightly raised her voice as she continued to speak “If it get’s too loud” The disc’s green ring turned yellow in a circular flash “it changes color.” She lowered her voice again “If it gets t’red, the person who made th’sound automatically loses- even if ye managed t’beat m’pokemon.” 

Ash nodded in understanding. “How many pokemon?” 

“Two on two, one at a time” Anya explained “If ye can beat me an’ my two pokemon wit’out settin’ off the alarm, y’win the challenge” 

Ash grinned “Al-rightie! I think I got it! I can totally do that!” 

Anya rose a brow in amusement at his enthusiasm. “We’ll have t’see - go to the right side, I’ll be on the left.” 

Iris seemed just as hyped as her friend, grinning widely and rushing over to the rear circulation desks - that Ash was realizing also worked as the officiator of the battles that happened back here. She walked through the weird shield that had gone up - how did that work? - and waved at him. 

Anya and Ash stood on opposite sides of the arena, and Anya tossed out a pokeball with no fanfare, her hatterne bouncing out, surprisingly quiet, and glancing back at Anya, who gave her a singular nod. 

Ash contemplated who he could use against a hatterene, and threw out his Lucario, whose steely personality seemed perfect for the challenge. 

Ash stage-whispered to get the pokemon’s attention “Lucario!” 

“Roh?” 

“This is a quiet challenge! You gotta be quiet! Listen for me!” Ash instructed the pokemon, giving a hilariously playful wink. 

Iris giggled quietly at his determination. Just “being quiet” was what she tried her first time too. This was gonna be a funny battle, if nothing else. 

Anya looked over to one of the librarians, standing in the officiant space, and making a motion with their hands in quick succession to a dramatic point

Ash tilted his head “Huh? Was that sign? Has the -” 

With a rather aggressive diagonal motion - with one hand curled into a sign Ash didn’t understand, the hatterene quickly lunged forward, startling both Ash and Lucario. 

The minute Irene lunged, Iris hit the “start” button on her Xtrans’ timer. 

The battle lasted only 25 seconds, and all because Ash yelled “Dodge!”  the second time Lucaro was getting attacked

The red light bathed the arena in a harsh flash, and Irene looked unimpressed at the quick completion of the fight. A perfect imitation of her trainer’s expression - which was a bit softer. 

“... Damn” was all Ash said as he recalled Lucario before the pokemon could also look at him with a disappointed stare

Anya returned Irene to her pokeball similarly, giving Ash a nod, which seemed to be enough to get his attention  “Well then. You had a go at it, but unfortunately, ye didn’t succeed” The vaguely sparkly barrier seemed to dissipate. “Ye can try again another time, if ya like” 

“Hah, wow, that was fast” Iris teased, returning to Ash’s side and punching his shoulder playfully “Maybe you need to do “silent training” with Lucario and try again!”

Ash huffed, that determined glint in his eyes returning almost immediately “Maybe Lucario and I should!” He announced - once again too loud- 

“SHHHH” 

Anya had already left the arena by the time Ash recovered.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Winter Wonders (Indruck)

A brief break from the winter fills to share something that’s been in my head since last winter (credit to Bellafarallones for playing in the space). This takes place in the same world as my superhero AU but can easily be read as a standalone. It is NSFW

The standard perception among villains, and some heroes, is that Duck has survived this long thanks to his enhanced durability and nothing else. This is bullshit, but he lets them believe it anyway; enemies underestimating him usually works in his favor. They don’t need to know he’s one of the more observant heroes in the city, a trait that served him well when he was constantly chasing The Moth.

The Moth switching sides and spending his non-hero hours as Indrid Cold, Duck’s loving boyfriend, hasn’t diminished the need for those skills. Indrid remains cagey about the details of his past and wary of divulging feelings he views as immaterial or foolish. So Duck pays attention, tucks patterns and clues away until Indrid is ready to talk about them. 

As December comes to Kepopolis, it brings new habits for him to notice. Indrid keeps pausing when he sees big Christmas displays in windows, he's buying his rats cranberry chews and toys shaped like snowflakes, and he's oddly transfixed by Christmas movies. 

It would be easy to dismiss it as all part of Indrid adjusting to a life outside the shadows. But Duck knows the angles of his different smiles, the way wistful thoughts read on a face that long ago learned to hide its hopes. So tonight, as he’s working on a model ship and Indrid is tinkering with a new cloaking device, Duck nudges open the conversational door.

“Anything you wanna do over the holidays?”

“Oh, no, nothing in particular.”

“You sure? It’s our first Christmas together, we could really do it up if you want to.”

Indrid pauses, “Do you enjoy going, ah, all out for Christmas?”

“Newtons tend to get a serious case of Christmas fever. Mine is mild compared to Jane’s. And mom” he chuckles, “she used to have that tree up before the jack o lanterns were even in the trash.”

“Sacrilege.” 

Duck smiles, “Maybe, but I was gonna argue with her. Point is, if you got things you wanna do, odds are good I’ll be down.”

Indrid sets his screwdriver aside, folds his hands in his lap and looks at them, “This time of year has always made me feel conflicted. Comfort and joy and such are not things a good villain embraces. And everyone being distracted did make for some very easy robberies. But I…there were nights when I would slip into the back of a church and just listen to people singing, to feel like just one, ordinary person in a crowd as voices harmonized about salvation.  And then I’d slink to my hideout, watching the shoppers in bright stores, the families in the warm windows.” He runs his fingers over the folded cloaking device, “I wanted it so badly sometimes and I still do.I want, I want to go shopping somewhere with a big decorated tree, to ice skate in a rink instead of a frozen training lake. I want to wake up to presents with big bows under a tree and open them with someone who loves me.”

Duck leaves the table, kneels on the floor to take Indrid’s hands, “I can make that happen. Tree might be tricky though.” He points an elbow at Chicken, sprawled atop her cat tree. 

Indrid meets his eyes, flicker of confidence returning to his smile, “Do not underestimate my ingenuity, chivalrous one.”

Duck kisses his nose, ���Never.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------

“Do I get to know why we are doing our Christmas shopping somewhere that requires the train?” Indrid’s gaze is placid, but from beside him Duck sees his red smart-glasses are scanning every face on the train for danger. 

“It’ll make sense once we get there.” He’s already made his boyfriend promise not to peek at the futures and spoil the surprise. 

When they disembark in the heart of the city, Duck leads him through the increasingly dense crowds on the sidewalks until they burst into Macy’s Square. 

“Oh” A smile spreads across Indrid’s face as he looks up, up, up at the gigantic Christmas tree. As his gaze glides back down, his hands begin flapping and he chirps, “there’s ice skating!”

“Yep. They've been doing it here since I was a kid. C’mon, let’s go get our tickets.”

Indrid beats him to the ice once they’ve paid, his winter boots equipped with, among other things, retractable skate blades. He weaves through the other skaters until Duck joins him. Duck isn’t as graceful on the ice, but Indrid doesn’t care and instead keeps a slow, steady pace beside him all the while. 

When they’ve had their fill of skating, they buy hot cider from one of the nearby booths and sip it as they take in the display windows of the Macy’s that’s the size of a city block. Half the windows are dedicated to displays by the ASPCA, adoptable dogs, cats, and rabbits hopping about in festive decor. After they’ve cooed over all of them and Duck has seriously considered buying Chicken a friend, Indrid takes his hand and pulls him inside to begin their hunt for the perfect gifts for their friends. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid adds a final flourish of red and turns the newly frosted cookie towards Duck, “what do you think?”

Duck raises his eyebrows, “Holy shit, sugar, how’d you get all those patterns on one cookie?”

“A variety of knives.” 

“Almost too pretty to eat.”

“Almost” Indrid looks down at the baked good, then shoves it in his mouth like a greedy chipmunk. 

Duck snickers, “Don’t eat ‘em all or we won’t have enough for the cookie party.”

“I shall control myself.” Indrid picks up a snowflake shaped cookie and sets to work; he intends to do well at this cookie swap, and when he called Barclay last night for advice on a certain villain, Joseph was making Rugelach from scratch. 

As he dusts silver sprinkles across the frosting, he pushes his nerves to the side and asks casually, “could we do stockings? I love the idea of hunting down the perfect little gifts for you.”

“Sure. Think mine is in a box in the office closet, and I can get you one in the next few days.”

Indrid hums, pleased, and then intercepts Chicken mid-air as she tries to jump on the table. 

Different projects demand his attention over the next three days, and in the chaos he nearly forgets about the stocking conversation. That night, when he comes home from his patrol, Duck is hanging a green stocking with faded brown, felt reindeer on the wall. 

“Homemade” Indrid picks lint from the stocking. 

“Yep, mom made ours, just like her dad made hers. Uh, speakin of that” Duck grabs something from the arm of the couch and presents it to him, “here’s yours.”

Indrid takes the piece of black fabric. It’s dotted with red and green felt moths flying between some rather chunky snowflakes. The futures show that if he were to look in the office, he’d see the scraps of the pattern in the trash. 

“You made this for me.”

“Course I did. I, I wanted ours to kinda match, so you’d feel like this was really your home too-”

Duck doesn’t get his next words out. Indrid is too busy kissing him down onto the couch to care. 

When Saturday morning sun peeks through the clouds the next morning, Indrid has a chance to show off his latest craft project. Duck watches with mild concern as Indrid secures a green pole to the floor with a special adhesive (he made a solvent for it too, so he could put the whole thing away after New years). 

Indrid clicks a button and steps back as synthetic branches and pine needles spring into view.

“Ta dah!”

“Oh hell yeah, it’s just the right size for the place. What about-”

“The cat? Observe.” 

Chicken pads over to the new tree, but when she’s just out of reach a tiny, robotic dragonfly emerges from the trunk and zips by her. She immediately turns her attention to her prey, leaving the tree unscathed. 

“There’s also a spritzer function if she actually touches it.”

“You’re a genius, sugar.” Duck kisses his cheek, “I’m gonna go get the ornaments.”

They spend the morning hanging lights and ornaments on the tree. Among the simple spheres and icicles, Indrid finds one bearing a small photo of baby Duck, a metal heart marking the first Christmas his hero's parents spent together, and a lump of purple clay he cannot identify even though it has Duck’s name scrawled on the bottom.

“What is this meant to be?”

Duck takes one look and winces, “Dinosaur. I made it in kindergarten and they refused to ever get rid of it.”

“I think it’s rather charming.” Indrid hangs the lump on a lower branch and watches it sway; how strange, that digging through a box that sees the light once a year reveals so much about the man humming Silver Bells behind him. That evidence of what shaped Duck Newton into the man he loves and who, against all odds, loves him can dangle in a canopy of deep green as if it isn’t of note. 

He glances over his shoulder at his hero, who’s paused his decorating to give each of the rats a treat. 

Then again, maybe in the childhood that molded Duck, those loving moments were so plentiful that they faded into the background. Maybe for Indrid they will, one day, do the same. But not yet. They still burn brighter in his mind than all the lights in the city twined together, and he doesn’t mind in the least. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

While Indrid could have handled Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, he’s glad Duck asked him to go to one earlier in the evening. This is partially due to the midnight one being even more crowded, a fact imparted to them by the friendly woman in the pew behind them. But it is primarily because Duck wore a suit to church. 

Indrid has never seen Duck in a suit that wasn’t his super one. Uniforms, blazers, sweatpants, tank tops, Duck wears them all well and Indird will never tire of looking at him in them. But the moment he stepped from their bedroom in a gray suit and green tie, Indrid knew he’d think of nothing else for the evening. 

It’s not just the outfit flatters the muscles of his arms and the curve of his ass, that the gray makes the green in his eyes sharper than fresh mint. It’s as if the entire ensemble enhances the quiet confidence that always swirls around him, suggesting that no matter what comes, he can handle it. 

Indrid wants to get on his knees for him and never rise. Which is an inconvenient thought to be having in church where he can do nothing to act on it. 

He does enjoy the service, is glad to sit somewhere other than the last row and listen to the songs. But by the time they’re en route to home, he paws at Duck’s thighs and kisses his shoulder until his boyfriend gently reminds him that he’d rather not crash the car. 

When they get inside, Duck immediately fetches Chicken’s favorite puzzle toy. Once it’s filled and the purring menace is occupied, he turns to Indrid with his hands on his hips. 

“Strip and kneel by the couch. Got somethin I wanna try.”

Indrid obeys, kneeling in the spot closest to the heater as Duck flicks off everything but the tree and the Christmas lights strung around the room. He produces a length of red, velvet ribbon, his question obvious even without words. 

“Why chivalrous one, is this what you were thinking of through the entire service?” Indrid purrs, nodding so Duck will kneel in front of him.

“Nah. You just got that look on your face that means you’re turned on but want me to, uh, take the ropes.” He wraps the first loop around Indrid’s waist.

“So observant.” Indrid kisses his wrist as it passes by. 

“You know it. Hands in front of you.” The commands are gentle and so Indrid follows them without fear as Duck makes careful loops over his shoulders, arms, and chest. When his torso is well tied and his hands are secured, Duck sets his hands on the rims of Indrid’s glasses. 

“Okay to take these off.”

“Mmmhmm.” Indrid relaxes as they slip off, closing his eyes as Duck sets the glasses on the coffee table. 

Fingers gingerly tug and test the ropes, “Here’s how this is gonna go: I got some last minute things to wrap. If you’re real good and stay right here, quiet and still with your eyes closed, until I’m done, I’ll give you an early present. Sound good?”

“Wonderful.” Indrid sighs as Duck plants a single, soft kiss on his lips, then settles back on his heels to wait. 

Duck stands and Indrid tracks his steps to the kitchen. A clink of ice in a glass, the pop of a bottle, he’s making himself a drink before he begins. 

Nat King Cole drifts quietly from the speakers near the T.V and then Duck is moving through the house. For a while, Indrid follows him in his mind as he opens closets, cuts wrapping paper, and stops to stroke Indrid’s hair and tell him how good he’s being. Gradually, his mind quiets, uninterested in the particulars of Duck’s doings. Duck is here, is watching over him, is happy with him and loves him and oh Indrid will be so good for him.

God it feels nice to be good. 

By the time Duck’s finger traces a heart on his cheek, Indrid’s mind is a warm cocoon, the world coming in muffled and soft in the best way. 

Something sticks to his hair, one of the bows they put on the packages as Duck murmurs, “Well, well, look at what Santa left under the tree for me.”

“I’d hardly fit in a stocking would I?” Indrid smiles as a warm hand cups his cheek. 

“No, reckon you wouldn’t. You can open your eyes.”

Indrid obeys, looking up languidly to find Duck still in his suit, highball in his left hand. 

“Did I do well?”

“You did perfect, sugar. Which is why” he crosses to the couch, “you can come get your present.” He sits with his legs wide, smirking as Indrid instantly starts scooting the short distance on his knees. 

By the time he reaches Duck’s feet, the hero’s fly is undone and his soft cock peeks through his boxers. Indrid carefully leans forward, nosing the fabric and tugging as best he can with his bound hands until he’s able to take the head into his mouth. 

Duck groans happily, tipping his head back as Indrid sucks hungrily, his own cock stirring as soon as he feels the weight of Duck’s cock on his tongue. 

“That’s it darlin’, take as long as you want.” Duck’s free hand tangles in his hair. It doesn’t push or pull, it just rests there, a comforting pressure that reminds Indrid who he belongs to.

He moans, licking and sucking messily until Duck is fully hard. He finds a way to brace his arms that lets him tease the base with his fingers, Duck’s hold tightening slightly as he does. He loves this, loves that Duck lets him this close and trusts him with such delicate, intimate touches. It’s an excellent present, and to show his appreciation he pulls off and drags his tongue from root to tip with a long moan. 

“Fuck” Duck cums on his chin, gripping his glass so hard it cracks. He clumsily sets it on the table as Indrid continues teasing him with his tongue and rolling his hips hopefully. 

“Come on up here, sweet thing.”

Indrid scrambles up and into his lap, teetering awkwardly until a strong arm loops around his lower back. 

“Yes, yes” His head drops to Duck’s shoulder as a hand closes around his cock, “please, I’ve been good, please let me cum.”

“Course I will.” Duck holds him closer, kissing along his tensing shoulders, “you don’t ever gotta beg for that. Like seein’ you happy. Makin you feel good.” He kisses the shell of Indrid’s ear, “you deserve to feel good.”

He cums with a gasp, twitching in his bonds as he spills down Duck’s fingers. He’s so happy, so safe, that he collapses with a pleased chirp against Ducks chest. 

They rest there, carols swaying through the air, until Indrid purrs, “You are never taking this suit off.”

“Gonna make both my day job and my hero job kinda hard.” Duck begins untying his wrist, massaging each patch as he goes. 

“Nonsense. I will make you fireproof ones. Ones with weapons. Ones for every day of the week.”

“Or we could keep it for special occasions. Got more of those in my life now that you’re here.”

He blushes, tucking his head under Duck’s chin, “You deserve them.”

As the ribbons continue to fall away, Duck runs a comforting hand over his back and whispers, “we both do.”

[duhragonball]

Janwum III Update: 20,157 (FINAL)

Welp, I’m done with that. 

This just feels like every other off-season writing goal I’ve griped about, all rolled into one.  I had lofty ambitions about writing a consistent amount each day, then blew it off and rushed to finish a few days before the deadline.  Last year, I had considered doing smaller goals in shorter time frames as an exercise, but that didn’t work out for this month because I was planning to start the Apocrypha Liveblog at the same time.  I had envisioned doing one for two weeks and then switching to the other for the next two weeks, but I couldn’t decide which to do first, so here we are. 

Going forward, though, I think I ought to try something different.  I’m liveblogging stuff from now until July, and I made sure to pace myself in case I fall behind or just get fed up with the grind.  So my calendar’s got ten or twelve days each month for free time.  I could set up writing goals for each of those months.  Nano’s website lets you do that now.  If you want to do like, 6,969 words from March 21 to April 3, it’ll let you.  They don’t have to be round numbers in calendar months.

But I think that might be too rigid for me now.  What I might do instead is just set up one long writing goal across most of the year.  February 13  to July 31, let’s say, and make the target something pretty easy to hit.  That way I have some pressure to keep writing the fic, but I’m not locked into it for four days, like I have been this week.  I’m not sure what the target should be, though.  I don’t want to make it too low since that defeats the purpose, but I also don’t want to make it too high or I’ll just be doing a standard month-long goal six times in a row, which sounds like a real pain in the ass.  Well, I’ve got time to think it over.

Somehow, I gave myself tennis elbow.  This really started at the end of November, and I told myself I would rest up in December, but then I just... wrote more. And now it’s the end of January and I did more of the same.  Really, it seems to have gotten better lately, but it flared up again while I was at work, and I’m starting to think it has more to do with when I use a keyboard more than how long I’m using it.  I watched a video about stretches and exercises for tennis elbow, and one of them was a warm-up exercise you do before the stretches.  I’m thinking that this would explain why my elbow hurt so much in the morning, but seemed to get better over the course of the day.   Usually, I work on the fic at night, when I’ve probably warmed up the muscles in my forearms just from moving around over the course of the day. It’s when I spend all day typing that things can go wrong, but if I prepared ahead of time I could probably cut that off. Also, the wrist brace helped a lot, once I finally figured out that keeping my wrist straight would be helpful. 

The biggest gripe I have with this month is with the writing itself.  I managed to put out 20,000 new words, but I still haven’t wrapped up this part of the plot that I wanted to finish back in November.  I’m not sure if this part of the story is just too wordy, or if it was always supposed to be this long and I’m just now figuring that out the hard way.  Well, I’m closer than where I was before.  That’s what I have to keep telling myself. 

[1dress100days]

Thoughts on the Wool& 100-Day Dress Challenge

First of all, thank you Wool& for offering the challenge! I love challenges and I love clothing and I love getting $100* for completing the challenge.

What I Wore:

I did my 100 days in an extra-small, black Sierra tank dress.** I chose the black because I typically wear a lot of black and figured it would fit in well with my wardrobe. Since I don’t own a lot of colored clothing, however, it got kind of boring. If I did it again (which isn’t possible because the 100-day challenge is a once in a lifetime thing, but there are still annual 30-day challenges) I would choose a different color.

Why I Did It:

Beyond my love of challenges, clothing, and free money, I did this challenge just to see if I could.

Styling:

I went into the challenge with the idea that I would wear a different outfit every day, which I succeeded in doing. Some people doing this challenge commented how they didn’t have much laundry because they wore the same thing day after day.*** They call themselves “team basic.” I was whatever the opposite of team basic is for this challenge, so I still had the same amount of laundry as usual, if not more. I wore a lot of layers especially as the weather got colder – the temperatures were in the 70s when I began the challenge and down to the 10s when I finished.

As for the dress itself, I hung it up at night to air out and ended up washing it seven times just to refresh the fabric. I handwashed it the first two times then threw it into the washer in a lingerie bag with free and clear detergent and cold water the rest of the times. I also put it in the dryer once on medium heat for 15 minutes to tighten up the fibers as Sierra has a tendency to relax.

How the Dress Fit Into My Lifestyle:

I did the challenge between September 12 and December 20, 2022. During that time, I was between jobs and spent most of my time at home. I wore Sierra doing chores around the house, going on a lot of hikes, and running errands. I even had a job interview at which it performed admirably. After driving seven hours I jumped right into several hours of meetings and it looked great. I did get a job offer but ended up declining. One of the benefits of the challenge for me was that getting dressed and getting a daily photo gave me something to do every day when my schedule was otherwise nonexistent.

Purchases for the Challenge:

Many of those doing the challenge use it as a way to minimize or simplify their wardrobes.*** I wanted to utilize as much of my current clothing as I could but also ended up making a couple purchase because of the challenge. The first addition to my wardrobe was an apron. I never wore one cooking but within days of putting on my 100-day dress, I made one from fabric I had left over from other sewing projects. I also bought some leggings and a cropped sweater just because. Static turned out to be a major problem for me when I wore leggings (most often synthetics) so I got a half-slip, which helped some. I also tried other static-busting tips like safety pins on the hem (nope) and lotion on the leggings (okay for a bit). Static cling was one of the biggest problems with the whole challenge for me.

I read that antiperspirant/deodorants could damage wool fibers and leave stains, so I got Crystal lavender scented roll-on deodorant to use for the duration of the challenge. It had no effect on the dress and kept me from smelling bad, but I really missed antiperspirant. I’ll keep the Crystal in my underarm arsenal for when I wear wool, but I’ve switched back to my old stick.

My very best purchase for the challenge was an $8.95 two-pack of remotes from Amazon.com for taking photos. The remotes have two buttons, one for I-Phones and one for Androids, and all the button does is take a picture. Along with a really nice camera tripod my husband gave me as a gift years ago, it was super easy to get decent, full-length selfies each day.

Challenges During the Challenge:

As mentioned above, the biggest practical challenge was static cling. It was perpetually annoying but not a dealbreaker. Another challenge was my desire to just wear jeans every once in a while. I managed to tuck and bunch and tie the dress up enough to wear it with jeans several times, but they were never styles I would have chosen to wear otherwise. These were the only few times I swore at the dress. Sierra is made of a thick fabric, which I adore, but it is too bulky to practically wear as a shirt.

One odd challenge that I was not expecting was that I kind of let myself go for a bit. Wearing a dress and leggings every day is super comfortable. My normal wardrobe, particularly my work clothes, are more fitted so it was easier to notice if I had overindulged in treats and snacks so I could then self-adjust. After noticing a slight weight gain during the challenge, I decided to be more mindful of how I’m treating my body, both to continue to feel comfortable in my civilian clothing and to feel good about myself in general.

The Challenge’s Rewards:

The obvious reward is the $100 credit I have already spent on my next Wool& dress. I chose the new Evelyn dress, which won’t ship for another month. It’s the same fabric as Sierra and has a straighter cut, which fits my style a bit better than the swing dresses. Hopefully it’ll be a keeper when I finally receive it. As for personal, emotional, psychological rewards, I proved that I could do the challenge and that I could creatively use my current wardrobe to make 100 distinct outfits despite getting rid of several bags of clothing over the course of the challenge. I’ll take both as wins.

Final Thoughts:

I’m glad I did this challenge and plan on doing some 30-day challenges in the future. (You can do one every calendar year). While the dresses are expensive compared to anything I would normally buy, they are definitely worth the money. It’s absolutely true that you can wear a Wool& dress for days without it smelling bad in the slightest. Mine also looks nearly as good today as it did when I received it back in September. I can’t image any “fast fashion” dress being anywhere near as durable. I have my eye on several other pieces to round out my wardrobe – leggings, a cardigan, another dress or two. So, yes, I am now hooked on Wool& and I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

* toward my next Wool& purchase ** for reference, I’m 5’6” tall, 135lbs., and measure 33” chest/30” waist/40” hips *** there is a Facebook group where people chat about all aspects of the challenge

[rainydawgradioblog]

I want your M I D N I G H T S ✨ 

Dawg with a Blawg: Ed. 1

Taylor Alison Swift (she/her) was born in West Reading, Pennsylvania on December 13, 1989. But that’s a different story.

At midnight EST Oct 21, 2022, the 13-track album Midnights was released to fans worldwide. At 3am EST, Taylor swiftly dropped the 20-track LP Midnights (3am Edition) as a surprise. It gives insight to the sleepless nights of her life with that post-"reputation era” confidence. The weight of the anticipation for TS10 grew exponentially since its official name was released– during her acceptance speech for MTV's Best Longform Video "All Too Well: the Short Film". Do I think there’s an equally high amount of pressure for this album? Absolutely not. This year, she’s released the most personal music of her career with the support of fans (known as Swifties, despite being verbally referred to as such ~1.5 times). Having such a strong fanbase allows her to successfully re-record her masters, finish old song concepts, and release new music she’s made in the meantime. I’m definitely here for Taylor’s newfound confidence in releasing music for Swifties’ sake. 

* Disclaimer: this review is intended for all that listened to the album, not just die-hard stans *

To celebrate new releases, normal fans throw album listening parties. I have to read the lyrics during and have ample time alone to contemplate after. I texted my mom the setup, projected the lyrics onto my living room wall, and made fruity “funny drinks” as we call them. A part of me did wish my Mahogany Edition vinyl record came in to complete the sacredness of waiting to flip it over and reading the lyrics. But listening to the album made me extremely grateful. Wearing my folklore cardigan, I thought back to room 515 in McCarty Hall where I listened to the lyrics “this dorm was once a madhouse” for the first time. Today, I’ll be sharing my thoughts on notable moments of select tracks. So let’s get into the tracklist. <3

Lavender Haze

I’m sorry but Track 1 is made for the girls, gays, and theys. 

Zoë Kravitz writing credits.

Yes, I’ll take the lavender oat milk latte to go pls.

Maroon

The breakdown in the last chorus/outro really makes the song.

Lots of unique lines in this one.

Clever description of different shades of red felt in different circumstances.

Anti-hero

Playful, simple production from the bassline established in the beginning to the little chimes at the end.

The first part of the intro is a cry for help, then she sings in a more recognizable lower register.

At the end, it sounds like she’s singing to me, just as she did when I first heard “White Horse”. It sucks that she felt alone growing up. Whenever I did, I would listen to her records.

Fun fact: the lyrics “it’s me, hi” and “did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism like some kind of congressman?” both exist on this song.

You’re On Your Own, Kid

Has simple phrases and can be read as a poem telling the story of her life.

Places me in a time where she suffered from disordered eating, as detailed in the documentary Miss Americana.

Taylor is known for her turns of phrase, she often switches things up by repurposing common phrases and circling back to them through the song. The song ends with the nice thought that growing up means facing moments of aloneness but how independence can become a healthy state. It’s much like how leaving for college is a learning curve for many.

My case for Midnight Rain:

When asked after my first few listens, I thought Midnight Rain was my favorite. I love how she sings songs about the pain of a good relationship turning ugly. Each time I listen to this song, I get that familiarity and hear something new. “He wanted a bride, I was making my own name” relates to this album’s themes of others trying to get her to settle down before reaching her aspirations.

Question…?

Casually samples her own track.

I’m a fan of her experimentation with vocal effects, especially the reverb distortion in the line “do you wish you could still touch her?”.

My case for Vigilante Shit:

The first line of the song hits. In fact, hooks in essays or speeches rarely have to be elaborate. “Sharp enough to kill a man” is repeated right before the pre-chorus in “they say looks can kill and I might try” establishing a clear theme of fighting and metaphorical death. Her saying “the lady simply had enough” in that posh, poised voice is juxtaposed with arguably her first mention of Schedule I substance use. This leaves me with all sorts of questions. What were the “white-collar crimes” told to the FBI? Was it a true story? Do the Haim sisters know about it given their “No Body, No Crime feat. HAIM” collaboration? Will there be a Billie Eilish version of this song that is longer than 2:45? I’m hooked.

Bejeweled

To me, it’s about underestimation: how someone mistook her kindness for weakness and now she's over it.

Personally, I’d rather listen to Beyoncé’s Lemonade or Renaissance when I’m in that headspace, but I’m sure it’s all part of Her Plan.

In truth, I wish “Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve” had a permanent spot on the tracklist and made this song a fun bonus track.

My case for Labyrinth:

This is the wild card. It’s also the golden song: track 10, album 10, released in the 10th month of 2022. This is exactly what I thought Midnights to be like. Sets up Karma and Sweet Nothing in a great way. The beginning is very hesitant and the second verse starts with “it only feels this raw right now” showing the growing pains of vulnerability following a traumatic time. It’s heartbreaking because, much like “Sweet Nothing”, it reveals the difficulty in moving forward again.

Sweet Nothing

I love how he kept the pseudonym William Bowery because it keeps the focus on her album, not the relationship she’s in. This is also important given how she used a pseudonym when she wrote the lyrics in her ex’s song “This is What You Came For feat. Rihanna”, detracting from her influence in the project. 

It made me cry at the first listen. It was none other than the bridge that got me. After hearing about all the pressures she has, she says she’s “too soft for all of it” but that all he ever wanted from her was sweet nothing! Wedding reception DJs rejoice. Too cute.

Paris

My little sister was born in 2003 which makes the “2003, unbearable” line amusing.

I love her songs about escapism (“I’m Right Where You Left Me”) and keeping her relationship private.

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve

Such an important song on the topic of unknowingly flying too close to the sun with manipulative abusers.

Given it’s sensitive content and how much I love the 10 min. version of All Too Well, you know why I don’t feel like defending my case for this song being my favorite on the album.

LIVING FOR THE THRILL OF HITTING YOU WHERE IT HURTS. GIVE ME BACK MY GIRLHOOD, IT WAS MINE FIRST! 

My stepsister listening in Tennessee said she expected slow songs that one would write at midnight, rather than the “pop-y” songs she previewed. I, too had anticipated some sleepless night, staying up alone storytelling from this album. Not including this year’s re-recordings, we’ve heard heavy midnight in candlelight influences in recent sister albums folklore and evermore. Yet, the album’s lyrics insinuate Taylor’s lighter on the cover art is being used for recreational late-night activities rather than just lighting candles. Her saturated eye makeup also makes me think of midnights under a disco ball or the aftermath of an eventful night.

Honorable mentions:

Her middle part in the music video for “Bejeweled” 

The voice crack when she said I really thought I lost you in “The Great War” and No one wanted to play with me as a little kid in “Mastermind”

No deal , the 1950s shit they want from me

Now that I’m grown , I’m scared of ghosts , memories feel like weapons

I searched ‘aurora borealis green’ , I’ve never seen someone lit from within

He stayed the same , all of me changed like midnight rain

Salt streams out of my eyes and into my ears

You said I was freeloading, I didn’t know you were keeping count

No one sees you lose when you’re playing solitaire

Karma takes all my friends to the summit

Xoxo, Millie

Musical notes from a budding musician

[gyllenhaalstories]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS — SUGAR DADDY!ZEMO

summary: a series of unfortunate (or fortunate, depending whose side you’re on) events brought you to mandripoor seven years ago. it was fun, dangerous and exciting for the most part. a lot has changed, but you are back in high town in the hope of purchasing a rare monet painting, and reuniting with an old flame.

warnings: tfatws spoilers, alcohol, established sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship, smut (daddy kink, dom/sub/switch dynamics, choking, hair pulling, blowjob, fingering, both degradation and praise kinks, spit kink, cum play, marking, unprotected sex). 18+ MINORS DON’T INTERACT.

word count: 2685

gif credit: pedropcl

notes: this (very long) fic is brought to you by zemo’s #1 hoe. for the sake of the fic, zemo’s daughter and wife have never existed. i get it zemo is the bad guy daniel is not your typical hottie but let me live my fantasy and reclaim my crown as the original zemo fan. listen to off to the races by lana del rey and let no man steal your thyme by the pentangle if you want to fibe with me! i hope you guys will enjoy it!!! <3

“If you keep staring at me like this, I’ll mistake you for the Mona Lisa.” You took the last sip from your glass, which was immediately filled by the man standing behind you. You had felt his familiar presence a long time ago, but you were too mesmerized by the rare painting trapped in a cage of glass to bother notifying him. “Your glance has followed me around the room. In other circumstances, I’d find it creepy. Now, it’s just very flattering.”

You heard him laugh through his nose. You saw his reflecting in the glass, lit up by flashing blue and pink lights and vibrating ever so slightly to the sound of the loud music.

“You’re like a Monet painting. From afar, you are clear as cristal and easy to read like an open book. From up close...” You marked a pause and stoodby straight. Your eyes never leaving the work of art you had been scrutinizing for the past hour. Water Lilies in Bloom, it was called, an incorrect translation that always brought a grin to your lips. “You are a mystery.” You swallowed thickly the bubbly liquid, recognizing the peculiar taste of champagne.

“It is arrogant but right to think of myself as the pure definition of mysterious.”

You chuckled, throwing your head back in disbelief. Some things never changed.

“After all these years... I managed to find my way back to you. Now that’s a mystery.”

You turned on your heels as you spoke. “Is it, though? Tell me, Daddy. Is it really that hard to believe you’d recognize your property even after all these years. I heard they put you in a pretty little cage. Didn’t have much else to think about than what you missed most?”

He took you in, just how ethereal you looked under the colourful neon lights. You had your arms pressed against your chest, the shiny material of your matching bracelet and necklace twinkled. He squinted slightly, his lips curled into a smirk while he looked down your body, the one thing that kept him sane after all these years in jail (that and the thought of destroying symbols like super soldiers and make the world a better place once and for all). “Nice dress.”

“My Sugar Daddy got it for me.” You did a twirl, showing off your outfit innocently. “You like it?”

He reached up to his neck and pulled on the collar of his purple sweater, like it was a tie he could loosen up. “So you received everything I sent you.”

You clicked your tongue. “Not everything...” Your head turned to look behind you, where your most priced possession was glowing in its full glory — soon to-be yours, you should say.

“Use your words, Princess. Say it and it’s yours.”

It was your turn to analyze him, to take every ounce of cockiness and pride. “You’re playing with fire.” You walked closer to him, erasing the distance but increasing the tension between the two of you. “All the money in the world won’t get you everything you want.”

He was quick to move, his soldiers instincts never left his body, clearly. His delicate hand wrapped around your throat so effortlessly. It tightened, forcing you to manage your breathing. “Money got me everything I wanted already.”

“What is it, Daddy? What is it that you want so badly?” You clenched your jaw, holding his glance which was filled with lust, instead of rage and grudges.

“You never looked so beautiful.” He leaned closer too, whispering the words to your ear. It was liked the loud club music turned into white noise. He could not care less about the stares and the words strangers exchanged as they witnessed the scene. High Town was not his playground.

But you were his plaything.

*~*~*

History repeated itself, in one way or another. Icons rose and fell. Symbols mattered and vanished into oblivion. Originality turned into plagiarism. Winners would lose it all, losers would dig their graves deeper into the abyss.

History repeated itself. The sight before your eyes was the same one as seven years ago, when all that was on this man’s life before meeting you was this stupid Mission Report of December 16 1991. You met him at a party like this, in High Town before he was banned from the land. He caught your attention doing his ridiculous dance moves, sharing his knowledge about the art pieces showcased around the room. Then he brought you to a hotel, the ones so fancy they had multiple rooms and a vintage record player as part of the decor. Only, it worked, and he put on his favourite Édith Piaf records. Rien de Rien, Le Petit Homme, La Vie en Rose, song after song, you were diving deeper in your memories.. He was popping yet another bottle of champagne open and pouring some in flutes you would never touch for the rest of the night. The same night, seven years ago, it changed your life. At the second you regretted setting foot in Mandripoor, he changed your mind and gave you the best months of your life. You would ride around Europe in vintage cars, dine in gigantic mansions you called castles. You admired the old paintings of his royal family members while he brought you a silk bathrobe to change into after a steamy shower.

You’d get lost in your thoughts, he’d get lost in his ambitions. You two were one and the same, in one way or another. That affirmation sent shivers down your spine. You could not tell if it was a good or a bad thing, a shy voice in your head was reassuring you it was the former.

“They call me Baron again, I guess I’m not doing too bad after all.” His voice snapped you back to reality. He was still wearing that obnoxious trench coat. You hated it, it made him look like a pimp. Although that was not too far from the truth, as the mountain of luxurious jewelry and clothes in your closet proved.

“Do you like being back here?”

“I love it here.” The emphasis on the last word was audible. You nodded in agreement. This place was heaven on Earth for some people, hell for others. For both you and Zemo, it was somewhere in between.

“You’re certainly not here for me.” You laughed, setting the still full glass on the nightstand.

He shook his head, mouthing a negative response.

“What is it, this time? Mission report February 32?”

“Something like that.” He answered, after another silent laugh.

“If only you had made me your mission, your life would have been easier.”

“Yours would have been, too.”

You shrugged. You agreed, but you did not need to say it. He knew. The two of you knew that this warmth washing over your bodies was the answer to all of your problems. Yet, you were fighting the urge to surrender and give in.

History always repeated itself.

All it took was for him to set his hand on your exposed knee. You got flashbacks of the numerous times his hand rested there while you two drove deeper in the country side, in some old Chevrolet, Ford, or any other European brands he could find and buy.

“Say it, Princess. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallowed thickly and fell on your knees. He sat straight, as straight as he could on the comfortable mattress, and spread his legs wider. “I want to go back in time.”

He leaned foward and you opened your mouth, your tongue poking out. He spit in your mouth, and you swallowed. The giggle that followed your actions sent blood to his hardening cock. “Just as eager as I remembered, right? You’d do anything to please me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Daddy.” You repeated, the confession left you breathless.

“That’s my good girl.” He brushed your hair with so much tenderness for a moment, you let out a content moan. He changed the mood real quick when he pushed your head closer to his crotch and unbuckled his belt at lightning’s speed.

Your mouth was watering at the sight, a sight that was tattooed in your memory forever. Whatever relationship you two had went beyond fancy presents and sex, it was a connection that tickled your souls and left you a different woman than when it first started. You wasted no time, stroking him a few times as you spit on his blushing tip. You smeared the spit over his sensitive spot and pulled the sweetest moans out of him, which grew louder and more intense when you finally wrapped your lips around his head.

No one compared to you, to your attention to details, to the way you were taking him all in, inches by inches like you were made for his cock and his cock only. No one compared to how blissful you looked pulling back, choking on your own saliva and the lack of oxygen. “You look so beautiful, Babygirl.”

His praise made you bat your eyes, hoping to receive more compliments. You flattened your tongue, licking him from the base to the top before you deep throated his cock again. You never left him untouched, your hands were massaging his walls or exploring his thick thighs while your mouth almost brought him to the edge.

That was when he pulled on your hair and demanded you went back up on your feet. “I bet you’re soaked. All you need is to see a cock to wet your panties.” You nodded as one hand reached up to cup your face, the other to cup your core from under your dress. He could felt the ever growing wet patch. He discarded of your panties in one effortless pull and pressed his pointer and middle fingers against your sensitive clit. He circled it, studying your reaction.

“Daddy...” You breathed out. “I need you.”

“I’m proud of you for using your words,” his finger slipped inside of your entrance, you moaned out his name. “So greedy and needy and easy for me, like the good whore that you are. Is that right? You’re Daddy’s perfect little whore?”

He was two fingers in, all the way to the last knuckles. He pumped in and out of you slowly yet roughly. You smirked when he finally touched that spongy spot inside of you. “I’m Daddy’s. I’ll always belong to Daddy.”

“That’s right.”

He brushed his thumb over your clit, his fingers stopped fucking your hole to abuse the bundle of nerves until tears started to pool in your eyes.

“Be a good baby.” You looked at him with doe eyes, sucking his thumb between your plump lips. “Do what I want.”

And you reached your high. You had nothing to hold you up, except for your shaky legs that threatened to give in under your weight and the intensity of your orgasm. You sucked on his thumb harder, hoping to quiet some of your moans but your screams escaped your parted lips.

In a blink of an eye, you were pushed against the bed and bounced against the body that blocked your every movement. His pants were nowhere to be found, just like the rest of your respective clothes. Your finger tips brushed over the skin of his shaven cheeks, down to his neck and chest. The intimacy, you had craved it all these years.

“I bet that sweet cunt of yours missed my cock.” He spoke, chuckling mockingly when he pushed himself in your stretched hole. You both let out a long moan of satisfaction. He rested inside of you, adjusting to your warmth and tightness. “I was right.”

“You’re always right.” You flattered his ego, and earned a sloppy kiss in return.

His lips moved down to your neck where he sucked hickeys and left small bite marks as he picked up the pace of his hips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping to bring him that much closer, and deeper, into you.

Zemo pinned your wrists above your head and pumped his cock inside of your tight pussy like his life depended on it. “So fucking wet for me,  gonna make me cum, Baby.” He had tried so hard to hold back, not to mark you and claim you again.

“Wait for me.” You begged him, and he brought one hand down to your neck again. He squeezed it, choking you deliciously until your eyes rolled inwards. He tightened his grip ever so slightly and he felt it, he felt the way your walls fluttered around him.

He thrusted inside of you, his hips snapped against yours and the sound of your skin slapping echoed in the bedroom. “Cum for me, Princess. Cum with Daddy.”

And you did, your body exploded in fireworks when you felt his release planted inside of you. He kept moving, rocking back and forth. He leaned back, leaving your neck to rub your clit once again. He was a moaning mess, the overstimulation made it almost painful to keep going but he did not want it to stop, not until...

“Fuck, Daddy!” And a second wave of pleasure hit you hard, it left you panting and shaking even more than before.

Zemo had to pull away quickly, and already missed the feeling of being inside of you.

Your fingers reached between your bodies, dipping into your folds and moving up to your lips as they were covered in his seed. You painted your lips with his white cum, before you licked them and your fingers clean as he watched, completely amazed and mesmerized. “Taste just as good as I remembered.”

He laughed, he was always one step ahead of everything and everyone, but you always managed to take him by surprise. You were just that great, that perfect. He rolled to the side and fell heavily on the bed. His skin was glistening under the light of the chandeliers from the thin layer of sweat.

You pressed your legs together, clenching around nothing. You hoped you could keep his load inside of you, as a proof this had really happened and it was not just one of your daydreams where you two would be reunited.

“I missed this.” You boke the silence with a small voice. Your fingers brushed over the bruises on your neck, and you hissed at the sensitive skin.

He turned on his side, worried for a second that he went too hard on you. The smile and joy on your face proved him otherwise. “I missed you, Princess.”

“I missed you so much, Daddy.”

*~*~*

The sun hurt your eyes, he noticed. He slipped out of the bed to pull on the curtains only to hurry back to you so you could lay your head on his chest. You were still wearing your bracelet, he started playing with it.

His mind was racing, just like his heart. You could feel it rumble in his chest like a loud engine. Something was bothering him.

“Oh, Zemo...” You caressed his cheek, looking up to study his features. “You can fool the smartest people in the world, but you’ll never be able to lie to me.”

“I’m coming home, Baby. I’m coming home now.”

You looked down again, taking a moment to answer. “Let me guess, you’ll take me to a fancy house like Rebecca’s Manderley and Jane Eyre’s manor at the Rochester’s. You’ll show me around, make me feel like I belong. And you’ll leave, high and dry. Again. All the money and presents from your people won’t erase the pain I felt. Not this time, not ever.”

He pressed his thin lips together. Pain, suffering, he was used to it. He had his fair share of it, caused even more to other people. The thought of hurting you, however, was unbearable.

“Every kingdom needs its king...” He paused and moved you, so you were resting on your elbows and your face was closer to his. “And an even greater queen.”

[cacoetheswriting]

lonely this christmas

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: mild mild cursing, mainly just fluff !!! Word Count: 2.9k Summary: Reader admits to Spencer she will be spending the holidays alone but he’s got other plans.

A/N: starting off the month of december with a christmas centred fic!! hope you like it <3

-

Being alone on Christmas wasn’t unfamiliar to Spencer. In fact it was pretty much the opposite. Being alone on Christmas was typical, ordinary. 

The nature of his job being what it was, he usually ended up working over the holidays anyway. Therefore he never made any plans with his mom because most times he just ended up disappointing her. Being alone at Christmas was fine. Being a disappointment however, completely different story.

As years went by Diana stopped noticing his absence. Of course if Spencer was to visit her at the sanitarium over Christmas she would welcome him with open arms, but he never does. He used to feel incredibly guilty about it, but that too passed with time. 

There was no indication that this year would be any different so he kept his schedule clear. However, the twenty-fifth of December approached fast. Very fast. The closer it got the more it was shaping to be the first holiday season, in a long time, the team would get to spend with their families. And even Spencer found himself considering going home to Nevada; seeing his mom. 

A tab of the airline website was constantly open on his desktop. He checked it regularly; hovering over the option to buy a ticket. 

That’s how you caught him one day. 

You observed from your own desk as Spencer leaned back in his chair, one hand still holding the mouse. The wheels inside his brain clearly turning; evaluating all of the options and possible outcomes.

“Hey, doctor.” You called out grabbing his attention. “If you spend any more time thinking about whether you should go home for Christmas, all the good seats will be gone.” 

He chuckled. “I guess you’re right.” “As always.” You shot him a playful wink as he turned to once again look at his screen. 

“There. Bought.” Spencer exclaimed after a brief moment of silence. “My mom will be happy.” “When was the last time you seen her?” You asked curiously. “It has been more than six months at this stage.” He answered while standing up. 

“Coffee?” He gestured to the empty mug on your desk. You nodded. “You read my mind.” 

The two of you walked towards the kitchenette in the office. It was quite late on a Friday night meaning everyone had cleared out for the weekend. Only the usual suspects remained; Spencer and you.

“When was the last time you were home for Christmas?” “Three years ago. How about you?” Spencer asked, tilting his head slightly to look at you. “Oh, I honestly don’t even remember.” You replied shrugging your shoulders.

“So your family must have been happy to hear you were getting the chance this year to spend the holidays with them.” The brunette doctor switched on the coffee machine and leaned against the wall while you elegantly hopped up onto the counter. 

“Actually, I didn't tell them.” 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “How come?” 

He watched intently as you chewed on your bottom lip - a bad habit you failed miserably to break. In that second of silence you wondered whether you should tell him the truth. He was always so open with you, honest. It would only be fair to repay him with the same sincerity. So you took in a quick breath, and exhaled it quietly before looking up to meet his amiable gaze. 

“My mom and I got into this huge fight a couple of weeks ago. She tried to set me up with this guy because in her eyes it’s unacceptable that I’m single. She doesn't think it’s right that my younger sister is getting married next summer and I haven't had one relationship in my life that lasted longer than a month.” A soft sigh escaped you. “I told her to butt out, using much harsher language than that of course.” Your mouth twirled into a smile; trying to make light of this conversation. Being no stranger to your frequent use of profanity Spencer smirked. 

“We haven't spoken since. She hasn't formally invited me over for the holidays which she always does, even if she knows I won’t be able to make it, and whenever I bring it up with my dad or my siblings they change the topic so.” You shrugged once again while nervously dangling your legs. “It’s easier not to go.” 

Spencer nodded slowly, taking in all of the information you just unloaded. Shaking your head you reached over to grab the coffee pot and poured some into your mug. 

“I’m sorry doctor. I didn’t mean to just lay it all on you like that.” 

He stepped towards you. “Don’t be.” Holding his own cup in front of him, he smiled kindly. “Thank you for telling me.” You began to pour the black hot liquid into his mug; a slight shake to your hand. “Thank you for listening.” “Anytime.”

Spencer placed his full cup on the counter beside you and began to rummage through the cupboards in search for sugar. “Y/N I gotta ask, and obviously if you don't want to answer me you don't have to.” He cleared his throat as you took a sip of your bitter black coffee. “Why didn’t you want to go on a date with the man your mom suggested?” 

Once he successfully located the sugar, he straightened his shirt and plopped two cubes into the hot beverage. He offered you one but you shook your head, taking another sip. 

“I get that it’s not really my place but it just seems a small price to pay for being able to spend Christmas with your loved ones.” 

“If you must know doctor, I prefer to meet people through work. Prison systems and such.” You joked, a wide smile gracing your features. Spencer rolled his eyes. “And how is that going for you?” “Surprisingly well. I have a date shortly after we’re back from the Christmas break.” He arched his brow and smiled at you; playing along as you continued. “Solid guy. Only murdered five people.”

You beamed at the brunette doctor who was grinning back. “Maybe I should consider adding prisons to my dating pool.” You let out an over-exaggerated  gasp and placed your free hand over your chest. “Is doctor Spencer Reid really on the market?” 

Spencer shook his head. His light curls bouncing finely, matching his every move. He lowered his lips to the brim of his mug and took a sip of his coffee before focusing on you. “No, but for the right girl I’d consider it.” 

Without thinking you raised your free arm and adjusted his tie. Flattening down the edge of his collar, you could feel his eyes on you. Yet for some reason you were suddenly afraid to look up and meet his gaze. Strange. Or maybe not so strange.

“Lucky girl.” You said in a mere whisper. Letting your hand fall, you stepped off the counter with a light bounce. Spencer cleared his throat and the two of you walked back to your seats. 

The next few hours were spent working in silence. You tried to focus on the mountain of paperwork on your desk, yet instead found yourself glancing at the young doctor every other second - secretly hoping he would also be peeking up at you. And he was. Just not when you were looking at him.

“Y/N if you want you can come with me to Nevada, spend Christmas with me and my mom. ” Spencer proposed out of the blue. He got up out of his chair and grabbed his jacket, slowly putting it on. You smiled at him. “Thank you doctor but I will honestly be okay alone.” Pause. “Plus, I wouldn't want to interfere.” 

He was about to protest, say you wouldn't be interrupting, but he bit his tongue. He didn't want to seem pushy. “If you change your mind, let me know.” He reached for his bag and threw the strap over his head. “Just do it quickly or all the good seats will be gone.” He teased. You giggled. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. ” 

The brunette agent hesitated. He swayed on his heel for a moment before approaching your desk. “Can I give you a ride home?” He asked, eyes locking with yours. “There’s still a couple of things I want to get done but thank you for the kind offer.” Spencer nodded. A faint look of disappointment appeared on his face. “Goodnight Y/N.” “Goodnight doctor.” 

Christmas was upon you in the blink of an eye. On the last day before break the team exchanged Secret Santa presents before enjoying a pizza party. This year you had Penelope who squealed over her gift as everyone watched in amusement; you included. Resting against the wall, you observed as the blonde jumped around the room with joy. Her smile made you smile. 

“Good job on Penelope’s gift.” Spencer appeared beside you holding two plastic cups filled to the brim with eggnog. He handed you one before making himself comfortable next to you, his arm pressed gently to yours. “I don’t know what you're talking about doctor.” You responded, tilting your head slightly to look at him. 

“I like your Christmas sweater.” A small smile circled your lips as you reached out to flick the little bell sown onto the top of the Santas hat on his jumper. Spencer chuckled. “Thank you. You know, I really couldn't decide between this or the one with the Home Alone reference.” “Ah, the trusted Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal sweater.” “That would be the one, yes.” The two of you beamed at each other. 

“I’m surprised you know what Home Alone is doctor.” You teased, nudging him playfully in the arm. Spencer laughed. “If I’m being honest, I was more intrigued by the booby traps than the plot of the movie.” He retorted as you sipped on the eggnog; slightly rolling your eyes at his response. “Of course you were. Don’t tell me you tested them out too?” 

He averted his gaze without responding, clearly a little embarrassed. “Well...” 

You couldn't help but giggle. Slowly, you leaned in towards him so that your lips were now at his ear. The brunette agent shivered as your hot breath hit his skin, however he didn't move away. 

“Don’t worry doctor, I did too.” You whispered. 

Instantly, he turned to look at you once again. His face was now inches away from yours, and as he stared oddly into your eyes the air caught in your throat. The two of you hovered right there for a moment, not moving and quite soundless, simply feeling each other's presence - as if there was no-one else in the room, no party. 

Eventually you broke the eye contact and took a step to your right, moving away from him. Suddenly feeling timid, you took another sip of your beverage while your free hand ran through your hair. Spencer also looked away. His mind racing a million miles per hour; he should have kissed you, right? No. Not in front of all these people, your colleagues. That would be bad. Unprofessional. Would you have even wanted him to kiss you? Did you like him like that? He hoped you did.

The party soon drew to a close. You were lost in conversation with Emily while Spencer was trying to teach Morgan and Rossi some card tricks. Your gaze kept averting in the direction of the young doctor every once in a while; Emily of course noticed. “Tell me again why you’re not going to Nevada with our resident genius?” A puzzled look now present on your face. “How did you-” 

“Reid told Morgan who told Garcia who told me.” She interrupted. You laughed at the ridiculousness of what she just came out of her mouth. “It’s like I’m in high school all over again.” She laughed under her breath.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“So, why aren’t you going?” Emily pried. A quiet sigh escaped your lips. “Like I told him, I don’t want to interfere.” She rolled her eyes; not buying into your bullshit. “He wouldn't have invited you-” “Fuck, please I don’t want-” She raised her hands in front of her. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” 

Glancing at the time, you excused yourself wishing Emily a wonderful and happy Christmas. Quickly and quietly, you headed to your desk and put on your winter coat. As you grabbed your handbag you turned to face the remaining partygoers: “Happy holidays everyone!”. Your eyes briefly locked with Spencers who shot you a shy smile as you mouthed ‘Merry Christmas doctor.’ before hurrying out the door. 

Two days later it was the twenty-fifth of December. You woke up on your couch, having fallen asleep during Christmas movie marathon, to the sound of your phone ringing. 

Yawning, you reached for the device. Spencer. Answering, you pressed it to your ear and croaked; “Hello.”. 

“I hope I didn't wake you.” “You did actually.” You responded yawning once again and gradually scrambling to your feet. You ambled towards the kitchen, straight for the coffee maker. “But I could never be mad at you doctor.” “I’m glad to hear that.” 

There was a short pause.

“How are you?” He asked, his voice kind. “I’m okay, no need to worry about me. Shit-” “Y/N?”

“Sorry. I just realised I’m out of coffee grounds.”

Spencer chuckled on the other line. “It’s not funny doctor. I’ve no coffee and everything is closed because it’s Christmas.” “You could always switch to tea for the day.” Rolling your eyes, you smirked. “Right, because I’m such an avid tea drinker.” 

There was another short pause.

“How was your flight? How’s Nevada? How’s your mom?” You asked changing the topic, making conversation. The young doctor didn't respond. “Hey, are you there?” The line cut-off. Weird.

‘He’ll call back later.’, you thought and headed for your bathroom.

An hour later you were showered and dressed. You switched on the lights on your poorly decorated Christmas tree and were about to make yourself comfortable on the sofa when a knock on the door caught your attention. You scurried over, without looking through the peephole to see who it was, you opened it.

“Spencer.” 

“Merry Christmas Y/N.” 

The brunette doctor smiled as you furrowed your brows. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Nevada.”

“I was. I got back early this morning.” 

He waited for you to invite him in before shimmying passed. He set down two tote bags on the kitchen counter before turning to look at you once again. Lost for words, you locked the door and approached the young doctor. Slowly you peeked inside the bags. “Supplies.” He simply stated while taking off his coat. 

“You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “You didn't have to do this doctor.” “I know.” He shrugged before reaching into one of the bags and unpacking the items. “I wanted to.” He held up a bag of coffee grounds and you couldn't help but giggle delicately. 

“Thank you.” Your fingers brushed his as you grabbed the bag sending a shiver down your spine. Spencer froze feeling the sensation too. Nervously, he let his hand fall but the half-smile on his face remained. 

“Where did you get this stuff anyway?” You asked as you walked around to the coffee machine. “I packed what I had at home.” Nodding, you began to prepare two cups. As the appliance whirred, you turned in your spot. “What about your mom? Wouldn't she have wanted to spend Christmas Day with you?” 

Spencer continued to unpack the bags, neatly placing each item on the counter in front of him. “We spent all of yesterday together.” Pause. “And besides, she’s the one that urged me to come here.” He peered up at you, resting his palms down on the kitchen counter. The second his hazel eyes locked with yours, the flush of your cheeks turned a slender pink. 

Not really thinking you ushered back towards him. The brunette doctor watched you attentively. Gently, you placed one hand on top of his and gave it a tender squeeze. “Lucky me.” You whispered staring deep into his eyes. 

Spencers smile spread wider in unison with yours. After a few seconds of pure comfortable silence, he cleared his throat. “Do you think your prisoner boyfriend would mind if I asked you out on a date?” A faint giggle escaped your lips as the shade of your jowl turned from pink to bright red. “Even if he does-” You took another step towards Spencer, closing the space between you. “-I think you could handle him.” 

Spencer chuckled. Using his free hand, he placed a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. His thumb stroked your cheek in the process and you angled into his pleasant touch. 

“Thank you for being here.” You muttered, unintentionally chewing on your bottom lip. 

He cupped your face as his gaze moved briefly down to your mouth before once again locking with yours. “Thank you for having me.” His voice soothing, not quite matching the fervour in his eyes. 

In the space of a single heartbeat, he leaned down and his lips crushed against yours passionately. You let go of his hand and placed both your palms on his chest; tugging lightly at his shirt to try and pull him in even closer. Spencer did not waste a second, his now free arm moved elegantly around your waist.

The two of you pulled away breathlessly. He gently pressed his forehead to yours as you smiled. “Merry Christmas doctor.” “Merry Christmas Y/N.”

-

masterlist

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twelve

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: this took so long bc ive been reading chain of iron and in general agonizing over things i cant control instead of being productive 🥴 that being said, absolutely none of the events in this chapter were planned in my outline, but here we are with something new!

***

December brings more snow and bone chilling weather, to the point where Cassian has to drag Nesta out of bed, either physically or by phone call, to get her to therapy appointments on time. 

She’s in the waiting room one freezing morning when, in her utter boredom, she musters up the nerve to turn to the girl sitting next to her. “What are you in here for?”

The girl blinks her large blue eyes, taking notice of Nesta for the first time. Nesta uses the opportunity to take in her freckle-painted face, a little wan but beautiful. Reddish brown hair hangs around her face and shoulders, creating a thick curtain from the rest of the world, and Nesta’s curiosity piques like she’s just found a shiny new toy.

It probably isn’t right to compare people to toys, but then the girl says, “This isn’t prison, you know.” Her voice is deep, almost sultry— completely at odds from her huddled-in posture and sickened expression. “I didn’t commit a crime to have to be here.”

Is she insulted by Nesta’s question, or is she poking a joke? Nesta decides to play it safe by murmuring, “Sorry, never mind.”

She starts to turn away when the girl says, “We’re trying a new type of trauma therapy today. I had to get here half an hour early because I couldn’t swallow my nerves.”

Nesta might lack many social skills, but she isn’t stupid enough to ask what kind of trauma the girl is being treated for. Instead, she nods casually as if she understands the struggle. “I’ve been coming here for weeks now and I’ve barely discussed shit. That’s mostly on me, but you know…” She actually doesn’t know where she’s going with her train of thought. “It sounds brave to do whatever you're doing,” she states finally. “I don’t think I’ll be able to open up that much about myself, ever.” 

The girl gives Nesta a weird look that she immediately recognizes. Nesta uses it every time she doesn’t know how to respond to someone who takes her by surprise.

The door to Lana’s office clicks open, and the woman herself pokes her head out with a plain smile. “Ready, Nesta?”

Nesta bites down on her frown. She has a feeling today won’t be as easy as her past sessions.

She’s about to leave without another glance at the girl beside her when that low voice speaks up. “I’m Gwyn.”

Nesta looks back at her as she gets up from her chair, and says the first reply that comes to mind: “Good to know.”

***

Nesta is contemplative hours after she gets back from her therapy session, bundled up in her bed with a coloring book. The repetitive motion of filling in the mandala drawing lets her mind wander, picking up and dropping different thoughts like she’s inspecting stones. 

She keeps her wrist light as she colors in with red. She finally said Tomas’s name in therapy today, though the action left a slimy feeling in Nesta’s stomach that lingers even now. She also spoke about her sisters, which somehow ended up leading to a discussion of her uterus. 

“How have you been dealing with the endometriosis news?”

Nesta shrugged. “I’m getting treated, and my last period was more bearable than usual—”

“I mean mentally, how are you doing? With how your condition could affect your future?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Affect me how?”

“Have you never considered the impact it could have on your ability to bear children?”

“Not everything in life is about bearing children, you know.”

“We’re humans. It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Not for me. I’ve never wanted kids.” A mistruth at best. “I don’t care what endo does or doesn’t do to me on those grounds.”

In a way, Nesta told herself, the health risks were actually for the best. If she ever did, by some stupid loss of sanity, try to have children, then her body would act as a safety net from her decisions.

Lana only said, “You’ll never know how much you care or don’t care until you talk out your feelings.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know.”

Nesta lets the memory of that conversation drop like a stone on a shore. That’s not something she has to face for a good long while. No, right now she has to face her past. 

Her sisters, and her ex, and even her father— 

I wonder if I came off too strong with Gwyn today. 

Her hand stops drawing, and she switches out her red marker for an orange one. This thought she doesn’t mind inspecting for a little longer: she and Gwyn ended up leaving their sessions at the same time, which meant they were forced into stilted conversation on the way down to the parking lot. 

Not forced, Nesta self-corrects. She willingly initiated a conversation, and it didn’t go terribly. She wonders if making friends in therapy waiting rooms is a real thing.

Her phone vibrates beside her, breaking her hours-long mental bubble. Blinking dazedly, she answers the phone call.

“How are you?” is the first thing Cassian says to her. He makes sure to ask her that at least twice a day, like a gauging of her temperature. It makes Nesta wonder what she’s ever done in her life to call for such… attention to her well-being. 

“I’m good,” she answers honestly. “My head’s a little loud right now, but I don’t mind it.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, I’d rather hear you talk.” She slumps back against her pillows, coloring book forgotten. “What’s up?”

“Ah...” Cassian sounds hesitant for the first time since their relationship started. “It’s just that I haven’t gotten my Christmas decorations up yet, and I was going to ask if you wanted to help.”

Nesta takes a moment to absorb his words. “It’s December fifth,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“You just seem like somebody who does their decorations the day after Thanksgiving.”

“Well, this year is a little different, with you moving out and being busy with school…” He pauses. “I was waiting to do it with you.”

When she doesn’t reply, Cassian adds, “I don’t even know if you care about Christmas. I know you and your family sort of ignored holidays. It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“I’ll be over right now,” Nesta blurts. 

Half an hour later, Cassian swings open his door with a smug grin on his face; a vast difference from the stammering hesitance he displayed over the phone earlier. Nesta’s own lips want to pull up into a smile just at the sight of him, but she holds back and narrows her eyes instead. “What’s got you so worked up?” she questions as she steps into the warmth of the cabin and out of the freezing cold.

“The way you ran over here as soon as I asked.” He looks her up and down, still amused. “You didn’t even bother to change, did you?”

It’s true: she’s in the same sweatpants and long sleeved tee she wore around home, and her socked feet are shoved into slippers. 

“Get that smirk off your face.” Nesta flicks his nose before tossing her coat off. “If this is a competition about who’s got a bigger puppy-crush for whom, you already won when you delayed putting up your Christmas decorations for me.”

“Fair enough,” he grins. The words send an unexpected pang through Nesta, because it’s partly true, isn’t it? He cares more openly for her than she does for him. 

She looks away in guilt, not knowing how to fix the imbalance. Her eyes land on the living room coffee table, where their half-finished jigsaw puzzle sits. It’s been stored under the couch for the past few weeks, forgotten by Nesta and Cassian alike as they moved on with their lives, but now it’s sitting out again.

“Have you been working on the puzzle without me?” She raises an inquisitive brow, about to feel— hurt.

“Never,” Cassian promises, saving her from that irrational hurt. “I just brought it out because I figured we should get to finishing it one day.”

She pads over to the table, picking up a puzzle piece and turning it over in her hand. “I don’t know if you remember, but we had a terrible time working on this,” she scoffs lightly.

“Oh, I remember,” he says, coming up behind her and stealing the piece from her grasp. “I think it’s safe to say those evenings were the worst fights we’ll ever have together.”

Nesta leans back against Cassian’s chest and hums. “It made us a stronger couple, don’t you think?” She turns her head up and back to meet Cassian’s eyes, finding that he’s already looking down at her.

Hypnotized, she leans into his warmth. She only manages to land the smallest kiss against his lips when his hand squeezes her ass cheek. “You’re here for a job, remember?” He taps her butt before pulling away, gesturing to the Christmas tree in the corner of the living area with his chin. It stands bare. “You do tinsel, I’ll do lights.”

Tinsel is harder to work with than Nesta remembers. She only manages to get half the tree done before plopping onto the Persian rug, exhausted and covered in silvery material. She doesn’t mind laying there while Cassian continues working; it’s her revenge for when he napped on her bed while she moved in.

“You know the stair railings still need to be wreathed, Archeron.”

Nesta declines to respond, tilting her head on the carpet for a better view of her boyfriend’s ass instead. “All this decorating,” she starts. “Is it just for you?”

Cassian turns to her, surprised. “Well…”

She pushes up onto her elbows, catching her mistake. “Are we doing Christmas together? Or are your friends coming over?” She hasn’t bothered to celebrate Christmas in years now, and she doesn’t care much what Cassian’s plans are either way.

“I was hoping for both?” He sounds hesitant. “Christmas Eve is all the way over in Velaris, but I was thinking we could go together, open some presents, and come back and spend Christmas here.”

Nesta purses her lips. She doesn’t actually hate that plan. Both Feyre and Elain have been pestering her with the annual texts asking her to visit for Christmas, and for once, she feels like responding to them. The invitation is more of a formality than an actual request at this point; she doubts her sisters want her there after years of rejections, but… what’s the harm?

“Is that a yes?” Cassian asks at her unreadable face.

“Yes,” she states unflinchingly. She refuses to overthink the possible consequences of this choice and chooses to focus on the broad grin overtaking Cassian’s face. “Really?” he says.

“But there has to be rules.” Nesta sits up fully now. “No one can know we’re together, no matter how much you trust or love them.”

“We already agreed to that, baby.”

Yes, but Nesta knows the secret weighs on him heavier than he shows— even if he agrees with her that it's for the best. “It’ll be different when we’re together in the same room as everyone else,” she says. Cassian wears his beating heart on his sleeve, and she doesn’t think he’s ever had to hide it before.

“You’ll also be different,” she adds. “It’s a huge change of pace.”

Cassian drops the remaining strand of lights and smiles confusedly down at her. “What do you mean, I’ll be different?” He sits across from her, before the blazing fire. 

“You know how you get around your friends.” Nesta shrugs without a thought. “Like your personality readjusts to mirror the people around you. I used to find it a mix of sad and adorable, like a neglected puppy desperate for love, but now I— okay, I still feel the same way.” She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture.

By the look on Cassian’s face, he does not find her words so easily dismissed. 

Coldness curdles in the pit of Nesta’s stomach, the realization that she’s said something wrong. She can’t fix it until she knows where she fucked up, though.

“Is that what you think of me?” Cassian finally says lowly. His usually expressive mouth is drawn tight and narrow. 

“Um… What would you rather I think of you?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Seriously, Nesta?”

Nesta’s back stiffens, refusing to cower. “I only described what I’ve observed in the past.”

“And what you observed was a desperate puppy?” His voice is cold in a way she’s never heard before.

Okay, she’s starting to see how that might be offensive. She forges onward, “Tell me what you think about yourself in the presence of your family, then.” It’s a private victory that she says family instead of clown circus. But she’s not trying to turn this into a fight.

Cassian is silent, but his stare continues to rage at her.

“Tell me,” Nesta repeats.

His hands curl into fists on the rug. “I think I’m empathetic, easy to talk to, and easier to be around. Is it a problem if I’m likable?” Unlike you are the unsaid words.

Nesta inspects the space between them like it’s a chessboard. “And what part of yourself are you giving up to be so likable, Cassian?” she says quietly.

“Nothing.”

Nesta disagrees, if only because she’s been watching him out of the corner of her eye for years. “I think you base your personality off of those you love, and you lose a little bit of your true self every time you put others’ needs before your own.” 

She shuts her mouth, not having expected such honesty to come out of it. Cassian is taken aback, too, she can tell.

“And I guess it’s natural that you’d see all of that as a bad thing, considering your history of being closed off and self-serving to a fault,” he fires back with the flatness Nesta utilizes so often.

One for one. Fair enough. “We’re both right then,” Nesta says. “You work for your best friend because you have no ambition beyond serving your family, and I have no such family because I can’t bring myself to care about those things. Are we even now?”

Cassian furrows his brows, those defensive walls melting away as he realizes she’s completely serious. “What? No, Nes—” He shakes his head. “Okay, so maybe you’re right about me. Maybe I agree with you a little bit, but… If we see flaws in each other, then we should be working to overcome them instead of weaponizing them.”

Now Nesta’s the one shaking her head, quickly lifting a hand to stop him. “Relax there, sweetheart. I have no expectations from you or myself to go on some self-improvement journey now that we’re together. Talking about my feelings with a professional every week is hard enough.” Yes, agreeing to go to Feyre’s Christmas party is improvement. Slow, barely there improvement, but enough to wear her out for the rest of the month. For Nesta to fully let people into her life, to treat them as lovingly as she treats Cassian— that’s a long way away. She can’t envision it, doesn’t even know if she wants it.

Cassian must understand some of what she’s thinking, because he nods and backs off. He gets back up and returns to stringing lights, tossing a handful of tinsel at Nesta as if to say Get back to work. 

She stands and obeys, thinking their not-argument is officially over when Cassian says, “You’re wrong about one thing.”

She looks up from where she threads tinsel through fir leaves. He doesn’t take his eyes off his work as he says, “You do have a family. And deep, deep down, you care about them as much as I care about mine.”

***

Nesta catches Emerie’s eye as the dark-haired beauty walks into the pub. Raising a hand and waving, she gestures Emerie over to the booth she’s sitting in. 

“Look what I found,” Nesta says with a hint of pride, pointing to the redhead sitting beside her. “A third girl for girl’s night!”

“I was kidnapped,” Gwyn speaks up. “Jumped on the way to my car.” She’s out of her usual hoodie and in a tight-fitting blouse, looking stunning even while seeming out of place in the dim bar.

“She came here consensually,” Nesta retorts. “Emerie, this is Gwyn. We met at therapy.”

Gwyn offers Emerie an awkward smile.

Emerie slides into the booth across from them with raised brows. She looks between Nesta and the new girl and back again. “You invited her here? All by yourself?” she asks.

Nesta nods firmly.

Emerie breaks into a wide grin and reaches over the table to grab Nesta’s hand. “I’m so proud of you!” If Emerie were anyone else, she’d be squealing in excitement, but Emerie does not squeal.

Nesta waves off her friend’s praise, though a part of her wants to beam at it, too.

Gwyn glances between the two of them with slight amusement. “I mean, it’s not that impressive,” she says. “She came on a bit too strong, probably a five out of ten on the asking-someone-out scale.”

“‘A bit too strong’ is all you’re gonna get with Nesta,” Emerie says, lifting her hand to order drinks. “She’s all-or-nothing, and most people would pray she doesn’t give them her nothing.”

Nesta doesn’t know if that’s a compliment, but she supposes there are worse things that could be said about her.

“So, Gwyn, what do you do?” Emerie leans forward. “All our friends are law students and it’s starting to get boring.”

Gwyn goes off about her librarian job as Nesta orders their drinks, and Emerie rests her chin in her hand and listens eagerly. Christmas music plays softly in the background and snow flurries gently outside. Nesta thinks she can’t be doing that bad in life, if she’s managed to carve out this little slice of happiness for herself.

***

a/n: i promise shit actually happens next chapter! we're getting christmas with nessian and the ic in the same room for the first time

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Baby, Please Come Home // A Very Harry Potter Christmas (D.M.)

Summary: For as long as you have loved Draco Malfoy, you had celebrated Christmas with him. This year, however, things could be different.

A/N: Here is my fic for A Very Harry Potter Christmas orchestrated by @whack-ed and @jamilelucato! My prompt is day five: digging out christmas ornaments. I hope you all like!

Warnings: fluff, christmas decorations, missing someone, lots of feelings

Word count: 2k (I’m sorry it isn't longer!)

There was one time of year that you simply adored. From the moment the hands of the clock ticked over to the first of December, childish excitement and glee filled you.

It was the build-up combined with the shopping and innocent secrets to do with gifts that had your stomach in a whirl and your heart pounding. Each year you tried to outdo yourself; searching for the one gift that would bring out the shine in Draco’s smile, though he liked to remind you that you were indeed the cause of such a shine.

This year felt different, however. It wasn’t that you weren’t excited, and it wasn’t that you weren’t prepared. It was the fact that there was worry brewing deep within you that Draco would not be able to make it home in time for Christmas.

Sending him away had been hard on you both, but it had to be done. An opportunity such as the one he had been offered was not something to be missed. Invited back to the school of witchcraft and wizardry that had educated him so thoroughly, Draco had been offered the chance to lecture some of the advance students in the art of healing.

The letter offering him the job arrived on the doorstep in the last week of August. Thinking back to it, you remember the trembling of his hands as he read over McGonagall’s words and what she was proposing. There hadn’t been any other answer than yes. You had seen it in his eyes when he handed you the letter; promising not to go, but to stay with you.

A shake of your head stopped his rambling; kept him frozen to the spot as you called him a fool for thinking he would turn this opportunity down. Draco had argued; he didn’t want to leave you for so long, knowing he would miss you too much. Whilst it flattered and sent your heart racing in your chest, you urged him to accept, telling him how good this would be for him.

Eventually, he relented. Draco wrote back to McGonagall, accepting the job offer and tell her he would see her on the first day of term.

Three months on and it was hard. It had been hard to wave him away; bag in hand, filled with his belongings. Draco had left you with a long, hard kiss, promising to be back in time for Christmas.

December brought with it colder days and longer nights. It brought with it frozen breath and warm scarves. To you, December was the month of traditions.

The first weekend in December was time dedicated to decorating the house you have shared with Draco for the last two years. Moving in together once spotting the perfect cottage for you to make your first home.

The attic is warm and musty when you open the door, switching on the small light. Wiping a hand across your forehead, it takes no time at all to spy the boxes. They’re piled up to the left of the door, strings of red and gold tinsel peeking out of the top as if they were too excited for the holiday season to descend and chose to start the decorating without you.

As you place the final box in the living room, your phone rings. The smile that crosses your face when you see Draco’s name flash on the screen is large and filled with love.

“Love,” You greet.

“Darling,” He replies, “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” You comment, opening the closest box to you. “How are you? How is Hogwarts?”

“Hogwarts is fine. It’s just not the same without you.”

You smile though he cannot see you. It had been at Hogwarts that your friendship first developed which then grew into a relationship in your Fifth Year when Draco quietly confessed his feelings for you. He had wanted you to know the truth, he said, in case things start to take a turn for the worse.

Things did take a turn for the worst; a war broke out, but you persisted. You kept your hold of Draco, standing by his side through it all. Even now, years later, Draco reminded you that he would never be able to pay you back for the kindness you showed him through those years.

You laugh, memories of the enchanting castle and searing kisses behind tapestries taking over your mind, “Do you remember-”

“That night in the Room of Requirement?” Draco finishes: laughter lightening his voice as he remembers the very same night.

You snort, “I think we missed all our morning classes the day after.”

“We did,” Draco confirms; his voice warm, “But I would do it all again.”

Heat fills your face and you’re suddenly hit with how much you miss him. It came and went in waves; each one stronger than the last but as you look at the numerous boxes labelled ‘Christmas decorations’ in Draco’s elegant scrawl, you cannot help but miss him fiercely.

If he were here right now, music would be playing, and smiles would be bright. Draco’s area of expertise was always the tree; it was his job to place the tree topper on at the end. The tree would be glowing with its lights, the tinsel would be shimmering away, but the tree was not complete until Draco had placed the golden tree topper on.

A deep ache fills you at the awful realisation that it may have to be you to finish the tree this year.

Quietly, you mumble into the phone, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. So much. I’ll try to be home as fast as I can,” Draco whispers; his voice filled with promise.

“I know you will,” You murmur, willing yourself not to cry on the phone to him.

“How is the decorating going?” Draco asks, desperate to change the subject and not linger on uncertainties.

You laugh mirthlessly, glancing around the bare living room filled with boxes, “I haven’t started.”

“What?” Draco exclaims, shock resounding through his tone, “You’re usually done by now and I’m trying to persuade you otherwise.”

You shrug your shoulders even though Draco can’t see you. “I don’t know,” You state, trailing off before picking your train of thought back up, “It just didn’t feel the same without you.”

Draco is silent for a minute. No sound comes from his end of the phone until you hear him whisper, “Darling…”

“I know, I know,” You repeat, “You’ll try to be home as fast as you can but love, please come home.”

Draco hangs up, whispering an ‘I love you’ before coming off the phone. Pulling the device away from your ear, you stare down at your wallpaper. An image of you and Draco from last Christmas – his arm hooked around your waist with his body angled towards you. Hermione had snapped the photo without either of your noticing. The smile on your face the result of whatever draco happened to be whispering in your ear.

Looking around the too-large living room, you found it hard to remember a single Christmas without Draco. The boxes of Christmas decorations all called to you; all wanting to be put up and shown to the world.

Digging through the first box, you feel tears spring to your eyes as you hold the first ornament daintily in both hands. A grand glass bauble given to you by Draco; inside holds a small winter scene that never fails to remind you of a winter holiday shared some years ago. Draco bought it on a whim; being reminded of the very same holiday. He had presented it to you, smiling through the kiss you had given him before placing the bauble on the forever green tree.

Sighing, you fold your arms, protecting yourself from the dread wanting to crush you. He had to come home for Christmas; he simply had to.

-----------

The day continues to be slow; small decorations placed on the mantle piece and bookshelves. It is just about as much as you can handle without Draco by your side.

As night descends, you climb the stairs, filled with the increasing hope that Draco would be home soon to finish adorning your home with Christmas cheer.

Settling your head on your pillow, you automatically reach out to the other side of the bed, already beginning to dream of a morning when you wake to find him lying beside you.

A crash and a bang from down below has you leaping out of bed and reaching for your wand. Your heart pounds in your chest as you hold your wand to your chest, ready to hex whoever it may be in your home. In your head, you go through possible reasons for anyone to enter your home. The war had been over for years; Draco had repented – there had been no sense of danger for a long time.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you tiptoe downstairs. Pausing at the door to the living room, you spy a figure rifling through the boxes of decorations still left to put up. The figure is tall and lithe, yet it is too dark to see any defining features.

You let out a screech as you force your way into the room, wand at the ready.

“Darling! It’s me!” The voice shouts, hands coming up to rest above their head.

“Draco!” You shout, “What are you doing here?”

“I heard the sadness in your voice, and I knew I had to come home to you.”

“And give me a heart attack?”

Draco smiles bashfully, “That part was accident, I promise.”

“I’d hope so.”

“Darling?” Draco calls.

“Yes?”

“Will you put your wand down now? There’s no threat.”

“Oh,” you gasp, realising you still had the wand pointed at the love of your life. You drop your wand, placing it gently on the chest of drawers before turning back to face the man who had stolen your heart and had yet to give to back.

It is then that you realise who exactly stands before you with a boyish grin and mischief bright in his grey eyes. You launch yourself into his arms; Draco catching you in his own. He laughs, the sound loud in your ear. His strong arms are tight around your waist as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, feeling evermore at home in your arms.

“You’re home,” You whisper, voice full of awe.

“I’m home,” He confirms, lips brushing over the soft skin of your neck making you shiver.

Stepping away from him, you take your first look at the newly decorated living room. A dark green wreath sits on the living room door, centred perfectly. Next, your eyes spy the garland wrapping around the mantle piece, warm lights shining from it as they reflect from the metallic snowmen standing behind it.

It’s like a winter wonderland.

Draco keeps a tight hold on you, his arm wrapped around your waist. You spin his arms, your face a picture of wonderment, “Draco, did you do all this?”

Draco leans down, pressing a long awaited kiss to your cheek before replying. “I started it without you, but I think I need your help for the rest.”

“Why?”

“You sounded so sad on the phone. I know how much you love traditions and decorating the house is one of ours. I asked McGonagall to leave early, and she said yes.”

“She said yes?”

Draco nods, smiling, “She said yes, so I walked to Hogsmeade and apparated home… to you.”

“I’m glad you’re home,” You whisper, voice truthful.

“I’m glad I’m home too.”

You smile, leaning into his warm body. Turning your face to him, you smile widely before pulling him in for a long kiss. Breaking away, you ask, “What else is there left to do?”

He laughs, ducking down for one more kiss before answering, “Just the tree. Do you think you’re up for it?”

Leaving the warmth of his arms, you wander over to the box of decorations you had brought downstairs only yesterday. Reaching for a golden bauble, you hold it out to Draco, “More than up for it.”

*****

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @liilyevanss @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kylosleftbuttcheek @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank @theonly1outof-a-billion @phuvioqhile @moatsnow

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sycathorn-slush @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach​ @dracomalfoyswifey​ @kashishwrites​ @justmesadgirl​ @detroitobsessed​ @reaganwonders​ @aspiringsloth20​ @just-a-belgian-girl​ @lahoete​ @minty-malfoy​ @fallinallinmendes​ @ravenclawbitch426​ @ochrythum​ @beiahadid​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @dracosathenaeum​

[viastro]

snow flower | hur hyunjun

ミ★ synopsis: in which hyunjun finds himself falling in love with you over a span of six months. [part of the 12 months i loved you collab]

ミ★ genre: strangers to lovers!au, fluff, humor, minor angst

ミ★ warnings: none !

ミ★ word count: 5,147

ミ★ parings: hyunjun x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! this is my first ever oneshot for the boyz i’m literally gonna go into cardiac arrest uh BAKGBSRH i finally decided to start writing for them, but it most likely won’t be as often as i post for seventeen. however, i will try my best ! i love the boyz so much, and i love hyunjun a lot. so make sure to check out the rest of the works that will appear for the 12 months i loved you collab that was created by @sunlightwoo​ !!

12 months i loved you masterlist 

It started out with the sparkle he saw when the two of you first locked eyes.

“You’re insane, Kevin.”

“Just a bit.” 

You tilt your head to the side in concern when your best friend sends a wink in your direction, before going back to attempting to slingshot a water balloon at his unsuspecting victim friend, Kim Sunwoo. Letting out a sigh, you glance back down at your phone, knowing that Kevin is literally going to get murdered when Sunwoo gets splashed.

“You want Formation to play when they bring your casket into the funeral home?” You ask Kevin, and he nods his head quietly. You look up to find Sunwoo still talking animatedly to a guy you haven’t seen before, but then again, you can only see the back of his head.

“Kevin, what if you accidentally hit the guy Sunwoo is talking to?” Kevin turns to you, and simply places a finger over his mouth as a means to tell you to be quiet. Your concerned expression turns into one of annoyance as you squint your eyes at him, and he gives you a grin. “I won’t hit Hyunjun, it’s fine.” 

“Hyunjun?” Kevin nods his head, turning back towards Sunwoo and preparing the slingshot once again. 

“Sunwoo introduced him and I on our first day at uni because he thought we looked really similar.” You purse your lips, leaning over slightly on the bench to try and get a better look at the man. Now curious of what this Hyunjun may look like, you open your mouth to ask Kevin if the man has an Instagram, only for your eyes to widen when you watch the water balloon fly in the air. 

“Oh Neptune.” 

Kevin lets out a cheer when the water balloon lands right smack on the top of Sunwoo’s head, now drenching the man in water. You watch as your friend looks around angrily, only to stop when his eyes land on you and Kevin. 

“KEVIN MOON!” 

You let out a loud laugh, covering your mouth as you watch Kevin begin sprinting away from Sunwoo. Your eyes land on the man Sunwoo was speaking to, and you feel your laughter slowly die down when you find him staring directly at you as well. 

His black hair is in soft waves over his forehead, catlike eyes staring at you in interest as he nonchalantly wipes away some of the remnants of water from his fancy clothes.

Damn you Kevin…

You raise your hand up to wave at the pretty boy, only to stop when Kevin and Sunwoo run past you, with Kevin screaming bloody murder and there being nothing but murderous intent behind Sunwoo’s gaze as he tries to capture the man. 

You let out a bright smile, turning back to find Hyunjun’s features slowly lifting up into a beautiful smile as well. He raises his hand up and waves at you, and you wave back, warmth flooding your face from the simple interaction.

Hyunjun always thought it was bullshit when people said that they can see sparkles in someone’s eyes, thinking that it just depended on what type of lighting they were in. However, as the warm summer sun rests over you, he knows that it’s just you. 

The sparkle in your eyes is from you, nothing else. 

Then he noticed the strange feeling he’d get when he’d hear your laughter.

You and Hyunjun watch with amused smiles on your faces as Juyeon, Kevin, and Changmin attempt to play Just Dance in your small dorm room. 

“Ow! Changmin, your elbows are sharp.” Kevin whines when he accidentally gets elbowed in the side from Changmin’s aggressive dancing. The blonde ignores the black haired beauty, continuing to focus on winning the game.

“Juyeon is taking this very seriously.” You mutter, having noticed the red head’s silence as he sharply hits the dance moves displayed on your tiny TV. Hyunjun nods his head, letting out a small chuckle at the furrow to Juyeon’s brows. He nudges you with his shoulder, causing you to turn to glance at him. “Imagine if Sunwoo and Eric were playing too.” 

You let out a smile at the thought of it, making Hyunjun’s heart flip tenfold within his chest. You shake your head, imagining the absolute chaos it would be if Sunwoo and Eric were also in your dorm, knowing their insanely competitive nature. However, Sunwoo has a lab today and Eric has a math lecture, so they were unable to join in on the besties activities. 

It’s been a couple months since you and Hyunjun met, having gotten close rather quickly. You later met Juyeon, Changmin, and Eric as summer was coming to an end. Now the six of you hangout more often than not even though Autumn quarter has begun, and your dorm room became the unofficial official meeting spot even though the other five have much larger dorms/apartments. 

“I WON!” Kevin shouts, regaining you and Hyunjun’s attention as he jumps up and down in excitement. Hyunjun bites back a laugh at the shock on Juyeon and Changmin’s faces, as Kevin was simply just moving the switch controller whenever it was required, and the two dancers were actually busting their ass off.

“I feel like I just got swindled.” Changmin breathes out, wiping away the accumulated sweat that formed on his forehead. Juyeon runs a hand through his hair, before squinting at the celebrating Kevin. 

“Do we murder him?” Kevin turns towards them with wide eyes after hearing the absurd question. 

“Heh?”

Changmin and Juyeon exchange a glance in silence, before turning back towards Kevin, who is now staring at the two in fear. 

“Yeah.”

“WHAT!” 

You let out a burst of laughter as the three begin to chase each other around your dorm. Hyunjun turns to look at you with a smile on his face, the screaming of his friends slowly becoming background noise when the sound of your laughter is all he can hear. 

Hyunjun gulps when he feels his heart thump against his chest, noticing how pretty you look when you’re happy. He bites the inside of his cheek, a thought coming to his mind that makes him turn away to try and focus on his three friends fighting each other, promptly ignoring the overwhelming feeling in his chest.

And then you experienced heartbreak.

Hyunjun lets out a groan when his phone rings beside him, glancing at the time to see that it’s 2 in the morning. He rolls over and picks up the cool metal, squinting at the screen when he sees your name shining brightly back at him. Immediately he answers the call and places the phone next to his ear, 

“Yn?”

“H-Hyunjun..” 

The black haired beauty sits up at the sound of your sniffles, eyes wide open in concern. He climbs out of bed, already walking towards his closet to put on a sweatshirt. “What’s wrong? Where are you?” 

“Can you come get me, please? I’m outside of Donghyun’s building.” You mutter quietly, watching your breath crystalize in the cold November air. Hyunjun bites the inside of his cheek at the mention of your boyfriend’s name, already having an idea of what may have occurred. 

It’s happened quite a few times with the different guys you’ve dated over the last few months.

“I’ll be there in five minutes, don’t hang up the phone, mm?” Hyunjun says, and you nod your head quietly in response, “Okay.” 

Within 5 minutes you notice Hyunjun’s tall figure walking towards you, and his heart breaks when he sees the tears immediately fall from your eyes. You quickly walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his middle and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

Hyunjun freezes at the contact, cursing to himself at the way his heart practically palpitates in his chest from the warmth you bring him. His arms slowly wrap around you, hand cradling your head as you cry quietly, no words needing to be exchanged for him to know that you and Donghyun didn’t work out. 

“Do you want me to beat his ass?” Hyunjun asks quietly, and you let out a wet laugh, shaking your head and holding your best friend tighter. “No, we were only together for a month anyways. Can we just go to your apartment?” 

Hyunjun nods his head, and you pull away from his embrace. His heart falls at the sight of your swollen eyes, and he instinctively reaches out and cups your face with his warm hands. You look up at him with watery eyes, and Hyunjun wonders how you’re still the most ethereal being he’s ever seen. 

“When will you realize that you deserve so much more than gross Tinder men?” Hyunjun asks you with a teasing smile on his face, completely ignoring the way his heart is beating crazily within his chest at the close contact between you two. You pout up at him, punching Hyunjun’s shoulder lightly even though you know he’s right. Softly, you mutter, “I just want to find someone who loves me.” 

Hyunjun bites the inside of his cheek at your confession, before wiping away the leftover tears on your cheeks and letting his hands fall to his sides. He quickly wraps an arm around your shoulders and steers you in the direction towards his building. 

“You’ll find someone, yn.” He mutters quietly, and you let out a breath, before leaning your head onto the black haired beauty as the two of you walk in silence.

Hyunjun glances up at the stars in the sky, feeling his own heart break within his chest. He bites back a sad laugh, now understanding what it is he’s been feeling over the last few months of knowing you. 

Love. It was love.

And here we are now, the 31st of December. With Hyunjun laying on Kevin’s floor, screaming and punching the air.

“Hyunjun, please. My neighbors actually like me, you screaming is gonna ruin their view of me.” Kevin tells Hyunjun from his desk, not sparing him a glance as he just hears the sounds of his existential crisis going on behind him.

Hyunjun lets out another garbled scream, and Kevin lets out a tired sigh in return. He finally turns around in his seat to see his friend staring at his white ceiling with a blank expression on his face. Raising an eyebrow in concern, but also in fear for his life, he simply grabs a pencil, and reaches out and pokes Hyunjun’s foot. 

“Bestie… you good?” 

Hyunjun punches the air as his response, and Kevin furrows his brows. He climbs off his chair and walks over to where Hyunjun lays, moving and sitting down beside him. Kevin watches as Hyunjun just stares at the ceiling in silence once again, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I need words, Hyunjun.”

The black haired beauty lets out a breath, before closing his eyes in frustration. Resting his hands over his face he mutters, 

“I wanna kiss yn when the clock hits midnight.” 

Kevin nods his head, turning away and looking back towards his laptop. Only to pause when the words register in his mind, and he immediately turns back towards Hyunjun in complete shock at what he just uttered.

“You wanna WHAT?!” 

Hyunjun groans, sitting up from the floor and glancing at Kevin with a frustrated expression on his face. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling his heartbeat wildly within his chest at the fact that he finally confessed his feelings for you out loud. 

“I want to kiss them.” Hyunjun repeats, and Kevin continues to stare at him in shock.

“Like, their forehead?” 

“No.”

“Their hand?”

“No..”

“Their booboo?”

“I wanna kiss them on the lips, Kevin.” Hyunjun deadpans, causing the latter to slowly close his mouth and nod his head, turning back to look down at the floor. After a moment of silence passes between them, Kevin glances back at Hyunjun.

“Like, platonically?” 

Hyunjun stares at Kevin, before resting his head onto his knees in absolute disappointment and embarrassment. Kevin runs a hand through his hair, quietly asking the universe how he managed to be such a good friend that he’s now stuck in the middle of a situation that he did not ask to be in whatsoever. 

“How long have you felt this way about yn?” Kevin asks, and Hyunjun purses his lips when the memory of the first time he saw the way your eyes sparkled comes to mind. He lets out a sigh, letting his head fall back as he says, “Since June.”

Kevin’s eyes visibly widen once again as he raises his hands up towards his face to count how many months it’s been on his fingers. His mouth drops when he counts six months on his hands, and he looks back towards Hyunjun. 

“Six months?!” 

“Is it really that shocking that I have feelings for yn?” Hyunjun asks, and Kevin shakes his head, shutting his mouth to stop himself from mentioning a piece of information that could possibly make Hyunjun shit himself.

He’s sitting on a bad boy piece of information right now.

“So, do you have a plan on how you’re gonna kiss them tonight?” Hyunjun looks up towards the ceiling and shrugs his shoulders. He turns towards his friend, giving him a small smile.

“We’ll see how I feel tonight.”

Hyunjun is fucking wasted. 

If it makes anything better, Sunwoo, Eric, and Changmin aren’t doing very well either. As the three are currently in a drunken argument over who gets to have the last cookie before the clock strikes midnight. They’re incredibly loud, making it a bit hard to listen to the New Year’s Eve special on the TV.

“I get to have the cookie because I’m the oldest out of the three of us!” Changmin declares, wobbling slightly as he points a finger towards the younger two. Eric rolls his eyes, reaching out to grab the cookie again, only for Sunwoo to shove him to the floor. 

“Age doesn’t mean shit.”

“You’re a fuckin whorebag, Sunwoo.”

However, amidst all the chaos in the middle of his apartment, his eyes remain on you from across the room. You’re playing a game of UNO with Kevin and Juyeon on the floor, watching as you let out a gorgeous laugh when the two scream at your +4 card. 

Sensing a pair of eyes on you, you turn your head to find Hyunjun staring at you with those sharp, catlike eyes of his. Biting back a smile, you place your last card down on the table, shooting finger guns at the boys after winning for the third time in a row, and walk over to where Hyunjun is sitting.

Oh God, Hyunjun thinks to himself as you get closer. The purple LED lights on his ceiling cast an iridescent glow over your features, making him drunkenly wonder how you could manage to get more ethereal as the days go by. 

“Hey, stooges! There’s more cookies in the kitchen, so stop arguing.” You shout out towards your three drunk friends, and they all turn towards you with shocked expressions on their faces. They quickly scramble over into the kitchen, slipping and falling a few times as their coordination is no longer intact. 

Noticing that they left the single cookie on the coffee table, you let out a giggle, picking it up and turning back towards Hyunjun. You tilt your head to the side at his serious expression on his face, holding out the chocolate chip cookie in his direction. 

“Want it?” You ask with a grin, and Hyunjun feels his legs turn to mush. 

How am I supposed to kiss them? He wonders, watching silently as you move closer so that your faces are a few inches apart. Without another word, you place the cookie in his mouth, before plopping down on the couch beside him. 

Hyunjun quietly chews the cookie, distracted for a moment over how delicious it is, before turning back to look at you. Only to freeze when he finds that your eyes are already on him, tilting your head to the side as he catches your gaze.

“My Hyunjun is such a quiet drunk~” You mutter softly, but Hyunjun feels his heart flip within his chest at the possessiveness of your statement. You reach out and pat down a few flyaways of his black hair, and he wonders if you feel as nervous as he does when the two of you are this close to each other. 

“Oh shit! 30 seconds until midnight!” Kevin announces, making the two of you turn back to the TV. Hyunjun watches as you scramble to grab the noise makers (not Sunwoo, Eric, and Changmin, but a close second). 

“HAHAHAH! Eric passed out on the floor!” Hyunjun hears Juyeon laugh from the kitchen, watching with blurry vision as Sunwoo and Changmin giggle at the sight of Juyeon carrying out a very drunk Eric into the living room. 

“Hyunjun, stand up!” You say happily, and his eyes slowly fall on you, letting you pull him up without a second thought. 

“10!” Kevin begins the countdown. Hyunjun stares at you as you squeal excitedly with Kevin, obviously elated to start the new year with your best friends. 

“9!”

“8!” Changmin and Sunwoo shout out belatedly, drunkenly eating the cookies as they count down along with the rest of you guys. 

“7!”

“6!” You turn your head when the feeling of someone burning holes into your cheek becomes more apparent. You find Hyunjun just staring at you with a dazed expression on his face, and you raise an eyebrow in amusement over how drunk he is. 

“5!” 

“4!” Hyunjun bites the inside of his cheek once his peripheral vision turns blurry as his focus on you heightens. He slowly leans forward so that your faces are close to one another, and you hear your heartbeat crazily against your chest even with all the ruckus going on around you.

“3!”

“Hyunjun? Are you okay?” You ask, but your voice is barely above a whisper as you somehow lost all control over your vocal chords. He stays quiet, as he continues to stare into your bright eyes as if they hold all the stars in the sky. To him, they do.

“2!” 

“Hyunjunie?”

“1!” 

“Can I kiss you, yn?” Hyunjun asks in a soft voice, and your eyes widen at the question. 

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Kevin, Juyeon, Changmin, and Sunwoo cheer as they start blowing into the noise makers. You and Hyunjun continue to stare into each other's eyes in silence, with you gauging the question he just asked, and Hyunjun wondering why his vision is beginning to spin. 

“What did you say-” You’re cut off when Hyunjun collapses onto you, making you topple backwards onto the floor. Kevin’s eyes widen at the sight of a passed out Hyunjun laying on top of you, knowing that the latter is going to eat his own ass when the memory comes back in the morning. 

While you, you’re left with a warm face and hundreds of questions swarming around your brain as to whether or not you heard him correctly. 

“Ugh.” Hyunjun mutters, raising his hands up to his face once the raging migraine hits him. He rolls over in the bed, tightly squeezing his eyes shut as if it’ll make the pain stop. “Why’d I drink so much?” 

“Cause you’re stupid.” He groans at the sound of Kevin’s voice, choosing to not snap back as he just doesn’t have the energy at the moment. He listens to Kevin’s footsteps shuffle along his floor, before hearing the sound of plastic rest on his bedside table. 

“That’s acetaminophen and water. There’s also a piece of toast for you to eat as you shouldn’t take medicine on an empty stomach.” Hyunjun peeks through his hands to see Kevin standing beside him, and he raises an eyebrow at the man. “You know I don’t care about that.” 

Kevin nods his head, running a hand through his hair as he gives Hyunjun a small grin. “Yeah, but yn’s orders.” 

Hyunjun squints at his friend, before his eyes widen once he remembers his original plan from the night before. He immediately sits up in bed, only to regret it when the pounding in his head becomes a lot stronger. Kevin hands Hyunjun the toast, and the hungover man quietly chews on it with his eyes closed as he tries to remember what happened the night before. 

“Did I kiss yn?” Hyunjun asks Kevin after he finishes the toast, reaching over to take the pills and water. Kevin purses his lips, before shaking his head ‘no’. Hyunjun bites the inside of his cheek, wondering what he could’ve done as he throws back the pills and swallows it down with a large gulp of water. 

“Are they still here?” Hyunjun asks, running a hand through his black hair as he takes a glance towards his bedroom door. He only hears the sounds of Sunwoo and Changmin playing games in his living room, but nothing from you. “Nah, they left after preparing breakfast for us.” 

“Did I… try to kiss yn?” Kevin only stares at Hyunjun, before shrugging his shoulders and turning to walk out of the bedroom. Hyunjun frowns at his friend, “Kevin!” 

“Why don’t you ask them yourself?” Kevin suggests with a wink, before stepping out of Hyunjun’s room, closing the door behind him. Leaving the black haired beauty sitting there, alone with his thoughts. 

“Nah, I wouldn’t have kissed yn. I care too much about our friendship, that’s why I decided not to go through with the plan after we ate dinner.” Hyunjun mutters, tilting his head as he still tries to remember what happened the night before. He reaches over and grabs his phone, only to immediately hiss at how bright his screen is. “Why did I think it was a good idea to have my lockscreen be so bright?”

hyunjunie: where are you?

you: i wanted to go to the seoul christmas festival >:D

hyunjunie: it’s not dark enough for you to see the lights yet 

you: bleh bleh, it’s the last day

hyunjunie: wait until 6, i’ll come take you

you: mmm, okay

are you sure you’re not too hungover for that?

hyunjunie: nah, i had toast before my medicine today. 

i’m 100% cured

you: okay king

hyunjunie: i’ll see you later yn

you: mmhmm

Hyunjun let’s out a smile after your guys exchange, placing his phone beside him as he lays back down, staring up at the ceiling. He sighs, the thought of what he could’ve done the night before still lingering in his head. 

“Why did you wait until January 1st to go to this event?” Hyunjun asks as the two of you walk around, just to watch you excitedly walk up to the bright lights without a response. He tilts his head in amusement, only for his heart to go crazy within his chest when you turn around to look at him with a big smile on your face. 

“Come here! Let’s take a photo!” You say happily, eyes sparkling underneath the beautiful Christmas lights. Biting the inside of his cheek, he walks up to you and stands close beside you as you take numerous selfies of you both. 

“Do you guys want me to take a photo for you?” You glance up at the voice, seeing a mom and her child smiling at the two of you. You look at Hyunjun to see his reaction, only to find him already nodding his head and handing her his phone. 

“Can I kiss you, yn?” You stare at him as the memory pops back into your mind, and he looks back down at you.

“You gonna smile at the camera or just oggle me?” Hyunjun teases, making you look away with a scoff. He giggles at your reaction, but it’s a sound of relief as he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take of your intense gaze. 

“I’ll take a lot of photos!” She tells the two of you, and you give her a thumbs up. You tentatively wrap your arms around Hyunjun’s arm, before smiling brightly at the camera. He stiffens slightly in your hold, but tries not to let it show as he rests his head over your own, smiling into the camera as well. 

“What other pose should we do?” You ask Hyunjun as the two of you pull away, and he glances down at you, shrugging his shoulders. “Anything you want.” 

Pursing your lips, you think to yourself for a moment. An image pops up into your mind, causing you to grin evilly as you suggest, “What about one where you’re bowing down to me?” 

“Are you crazy?” 

You let out a bright laugh at Hyunjun’s immediate answer, and he finds himself automatically smiling back down at you just from the sight itself. He reaches out and fondly pats your head without a second thought, making warmth rush up to your face at the touch. 

It’s something Hyunjun’s always done, but the memory of last night is still fresh in your mind. Making you wonder whether all these things he’s done for you have been platonic, or romantic. 

His eyes search yours as your laughter dies down, finding you to be deep in thought as the two of you stare at each other. His hand rests on your shoulder, and he doesn’t feel the urge to pull away. 

What have I done in my past life to deserve such a beautiful sight like this? Hyunjun thinks to himself as he looks into your sparkling eyes, feeling nothing but warmth as he does so.

“I think the photos are cute! I hope you guys like them.” The mom says, causing the two of you to break out of your trance. She gives the both of you a grin, “I think you guys are a cute couple.” 

You immediately sputter, about to deny it in fear of making Hyunjun uncomfortable, only to freeze when you hear him say, 

“Thank you.” 

You turn your head to glance at him as he waves bye to the mom and her child, before he opens up his phone and scrolls through the numerous photos she took of you and him. He giggles at a few photos, a soft smile on his face as he does so. 

“They turned out cute, I’ll make sure to airdrop them to you later.” Hyunjun tells you, and you nod your head without another thought. He gives you a close lipped smile, before gesturing over towards the other christmas lights. 

“Let’s keep going so that we can get food, it’s cold.” He begins to walk forward, only to pause when he realizes you’re not beside him. Hyunjun turns back to glance at you, finding you still standing in the same spot. He tilts his head to the side, “Are you coming-”

“Did you really mean it when you asked if you could kiss me last night, Hyunjun?” You ask, and Hyunjun feels his blood run cold at the question. The memory of last night that he couldn’t remember suddenly floods into his brain all at once, and he internally panics at the fact that he actually tried to make a move. 

“Did you?” You ask again, tightly squeezing your fist at your side as you await his answer. Hyunjun bites the inside of his cheek, realizing that it’s all or nothing as he answers, 

“And what if I did?” 

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment, the bright christmas lights hanging around you both. His eyes search your face, still finding you to be the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Ever since that warm summer day, it’s always been you. 

You take note of Hyunjun’s gorgeous features, having always known how attractive he was from the moment the two of you met. However, as you both grew closer as friends, as well as your feelings, you knew you had to push it down. Kevin’s the only one who knew of your feelings after a drunken occurrence where you cried on his lap, but the next day you told your best friend to ignore everything you said the night before. You didn’t want any false hope, as there’s always only two possibilities of catching feelings for your best friend. 

Friendship ends as the other doesn’t feel the same.

Friendship turns into relationship but this only happens in fanfiction.

You didn’t stand a chance for Hyunjun, but as you stare into his eyes right now on this cold, winter night, you realize you were wrong. The warmth to his gaze has always only been for you, and you were the biggest chance Hyunjun’s ever wanted to take. And so, you finally say, 

“I wouldn’t mind.” 

Hyunjun stares at you, and you gauge his reaction to your answer. He takes a few steps forward until there’s only a few inches left between your faces. “Please tell me you’re not kidding, yn.” 

You let out a soft smile, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears as you stare up at your best friend’s face. “Why would I joke about this?” 

Hyunjun’s hands slowly trail up until they’re cupping your face. His thumb draws circles on your cheek, and he breathes out nervously, glancing back up into your eyes to double check. You nod your head, and Hyunjun bites the inside of his cheek, before finally leaning in and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. 

Heat floods your features as your hands reach up and grip at his shirt, the brisk night air being a stark contrast to the love and warmth you feel from Hyunjun alone. 

Hyunjun feels dizzy, his heart bursting within his chest after the moment he’s only dreamed of for the last six months is now happening right at this moment. Your lips taste sweet, similar to that of strawberries, and he decides that your strawberry flavored chapstick is truly godsend. He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours after a moment, warmth flooding his features as he stares into your eyes.

“I love you.” Hyunjun confesses, and he watches as the brightest smile he’s ever seen forms on your face. You reach up and cup his face with your own hands as well, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, before pulling away to say,

“I love you too, Hyunjun.” 

The two of you let out giggles after a moment, before Hyunjun pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly as he realizes that you’re finally his. He closes his eyes, smiling to himself at the overwhelming feeling of love flooding his chest. 

To Hyunjun, love was warm. They had sparkles in their eyes, and had the brightest smile he’s ever seen. 

To Hyunjun, love was you.

Love was you.

[michals]

May I request some Luther & the showgirls working for Jack, as they seem to get along well. Though it seems like you already got quite a few requests, so feel perfectly free to ignore this. Hope the muse will become a bit more cooperative <3.

Thanks for your patience with this, sorry took a little longer than expected! Put a little bit of asexual Luther in here, hope that's okay. Also this is Gordo and this is Valentina.

-

Luther’s dinner is interrupted when a newspaper appears in front of his face.

“Look at this Lulu!” Patsy chirps over his shoulder as she holds it, “First woman in space! Can you believe it?”

“Not even long after the men,” Sandra says, leaning on the bar next to him, proud smirk on her face.

Luther takes the paper, acts like he’s surprised, like he didn’t already know. “Wow, look at that!” he says.

He’d learned about Valentina Tereshkova when he was just a kid, hell he’d been able to list all the Mercury Seven by the time he was four. He’d been upset, actually, that he’d been dropped at the tail end of December 1962 and had missed almost all their flights. At the very least he’d seen Gordo go up, the first to stay up for a whole day. Despite how he got here Luther’ll remember that as one of his favorite days of his life.

“A woman,” Marvin the bartender mutters as he sweeps up behind the counter, “and a Russian at that!” He scoffs and shakes his head.

Luther bites back a smile, Marvin’s gonna be real disappointed by a whole lot of things if he lives a lot longer.

“Hush, you,” Patsy says, shaking her hands at him, “you gotta start being more modern, like Luther.” He rolls his eyes and keeps sweeping.

“Nice to have some forward thinking men ‘round here,” Sandra says, leaning over the bar to grab a bottle of brandy. She was the one who’d given Luther a tour of the place, had teased him when he’d looked away as they passed the changing room.

She pours herself a glass, tips the bottle Luther’s way. He nods and lets her top off the glass at his elbow. He says, “Thank you.” They love how polite he is.

The girls all like him, or seem to at least. Luther’s never been anywhere that…well, anywhere, ever, especially where he’s around actual people. He acts how he’s sure he’s supposed to act and so far it’s working. This is still new, even months later; he wonders often if the day’s gonna come when he slips up and reveals a whole lot about himself they won't understand.

But he does like them, that's true. “How’s Bobby?” He asks.

“That lout!” Sandra says, rolling her eyes, holding up her left hand. “The day I get a ring on this finger is the day the saints come marching just for me.” She and Luther take a drink together.

Autumn bustles through the door then, gives a cheerful hello as she comes up to the bar, setting down a Tupperware container.

“Tell me those are lemon bars,” Patsy says, peering over them with a grin.

“Ma made ‘em this afternoon,” Autumn says, cracking open the lid to give her a peek. She points a finger at Luther, “And you’re gonna take some this time mister, none of that ‘no sugar’ nonsense.”

Luther gives an apologetic smile, “I have a fight tomorrow.” He’s always had a strict diet, his whole life, to keep in fighting shape. Sugar was a luxury saved for mom’s birthday cakes. He’s found it’s not all that different- training for dad’s missions or Jack’s matches. It’s alright though, he’s used to it, even if the lemon bars are tempting.

“Again, so soon?” Autumn’s expression turns concerned, “This hasn’t even healed yet!”

She reaches out towards him, to the cut that sits over his right eyebrow still sporting three stitches, but doesn’t actually touch. The girls are sweet, used to being flirty with patrons, but they’d learned within the first week that Luther was strange about physical touch. They’ve all been careful about it ever since, an unspoken agreement between him and them. He’s embarrassed by it, he tells himself it’s a stupid hang up to have, but it’s a relief and he’s thankful to them for it.

“It’s really not that bad,” he assures her. He heals fast, he can’t tell them why though. “I just won’t get hit there again.” He already knows he won’t, but he can’t tell them that either.

“Jack!” Autumn calls, looking over Luther’s shoulder and he turns to see Jack arriving, starting across the room to his office. He doesn’t look up from the papers in his hands.

“Yeah? What now?”

Sandra twists in her seat, “You gotta give Luther a break! You’re gonna ruin that pretty face!”

Luther ducks his head, tries not to blush. The only times he’s been called ‘pretty’ or ‘handsome’ was in some magazines when he got older. He doesn’t think of himself that way, especially now.

“Pretty face isn’t what keeps the lights on girls, it’s the muscles,” Jack says.

That’s always why Luther’s been useful.

Jack stops outside his office door, “Those lemon bars? Save a few for me.”

“Of course Jack,” Autumn says with a smile. The girls like Jack, he’s easy to work for.

Music comes on as Marvin puts a record on, a signal for the girls to start getting ready. Patsy whines that she wants to listen to Elvis Presley and Sandra says of course she does. Patsy gives Marvin doll eyes and he relents and the song switches, ‘There’s Always Me’ filling the bar with Elvis’s smooth voice. Luther likes it enough but some days he misses Cyndi Lauper fiercely.

“Promise?” Autumn says, still behind the counter, looking at Luther with a soft expression, “That you won’t get hit there again? It’s gonna leave a nasty scar.”

Luther gives his best reassuring look, “Promise.” He can’t tell her it’s all planned, every punch and kick. Luther spent 24 years of his life training to fight much worse people than some thugs in an dirt floor ring in a shack, every hit he takes is on purpose. Jack’s the only one who knows something’s a little off about Luther and he says he has to bleed a little, can’t make it look too easy.

Luther sees it as a requirement, a small sacrifice. He’s got a room and a job and free meals, and he knows he’s gonna win the fight anyway. What else is he supposed to do? He was dropped in the middle of nowhere, decades out of time, and dad…well, he won’t help. He tries not to think about how dad spoke to him that day, about the look on his face.

Autumn smiles like she’ll believe him for now, then takes the Tupperware with her off to the backroom to change. Luther finishes his dinner and drink alone at the bar until the first patrons show up, rubbing their hands together in excitement, eyes on the stage even as they order drinks. Luther starts his rounds.

It’s an easy job, he just mills around, warns the guys who get too loud, shoves out anyone who gets too rowdy or handsy. There’s strict rules on how exactly the men interact with the women and Luther makes sure everyone knows it. And he always makes sure Jack’s happy.

Luther’s not really interested in all the skin on display, he never has been. It’s another item he’s added to the list of ways he doesn’t quite fit; he’s supposed to like this kind of thing isn’t he? All “red blooded American men” like it, that’s what Jack says. Luther just nods, says, “yeah, of course”; something’s always told Luther it’s just not for him..

“You’re not a slobbering goon like the rest of the guys in this place,” Patsy had told him once after he’d thrown out some guy who got too bold, “You’re a real gentleman.” But he doesn’t understand how he couldn’t be, not with them, and that’s not even because of the other thing.

The night goes well enough, he only has to talk down a group of sailors who get too noisy but they get an eyeful of him and simmer down. Autumn makes her rounds, comes up to him at one point.

“Can I ask a favor Lu?”

“Always.”

“Well April borrowed my car yesterday and left it with a flat, didn’t bother to tell me-”

“Oh April,” Luther says, shaking his head. He’s used to these kinds of stories about her sister.

“I know right? That girl, I swear. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d walk me home tonight?”

“Of course,” Luther says, “I’ll check with Jack, make sure he doesn’t have anything for me at close.”

She beams at him, “Thanks Lu, you’re the best.”

He has to check with Jack because he’s got to put Jack first, it’s just part of the deal. He doesn’t have anything to do with parts of Jack’s business, parts that he doesn’t look into or think about too much. There’s an irony there about being a former superhero working for…whatever Jack is, but he has to run errands, sometimes even at 2 a.m. But tonight he’s free, Jack waves him off saying, “Yeah yeah, make sure my girls get home safe.”

Autumn’s waiting by the door in her street clothes when Luther finishes with Jack. Marvin locks the door behind them as they step out onto the quiet street.

Autumn gives a sly look as she opens up the Tupperware container, now half empty. “Come on now, you’re gonna make my ma real sad if you don’t at least try one.”

Luther purses his lip against a smile, sighs. “A bite.”

Autumn’s nearly giddy as he breaks off a piece, pops it in his mouth. She watches him expectantly. “Your mom’s an amazing baker,” he says and she grins proudly.

It is amazing, reminds Luther of a lemon cake mom had made when they turned 14.

The night is quiet and warm, the only place still open is the 24 hour diner down the road. Autumn says she likes their pancakes but other than that they don’t talk much. Luther finds it’s kind of nice that they don’t have to.

Her place isn’t far and he stays to watch her unlock the door and go in, she gives a wave as he stands at the gate.

It’s a longer walk back to his place from here but he doesn’t mind it. He never just walked around his neighborhood, back when he lived at the Academy. He wonders how different it might all be if he did. He tells himself it’s not a thought worth wondering though, he’s here, there’s no changing it, all he can do is make the best of it, but he’s got a few people who make it easier. He looks towards the sky, thinks about Valentina passing overhead.

[tsumtsumland]

“i’ll be home for christmas”| m.atsumu x reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: mxf smut, fingering.

author’s note: figured the only way to start off my Christmas fics right was with my main man ❤️ enjoy! This is the last time I’m reuploading this, it refuses to show up in tags 😔

3 weeks, that’s how long Atsumu was supposed to be gone for. 5 weeks, that’s how long he’s actually been gone for. You sigh as you turn the faucet off now that the tub was full. You drop a bath bomb into the water and watch it fizzle out, turning the liquid pink. A glance at the clock tells you it was only a few hours until December 25th, guess you’ll be spending Christmas alone this year.

Another heavy sigh leaves your lips, as you light one of those Christmas scented candles you love on the tub’s ledge. You get ready to undo the tie on your robe when the doorbell rings. You have half a mind to just leave it, but you tighten the bow back and head to the door.

Without even looking through the peephole, you’re just absolutely annoyed with whoever was on the other side of the door, you yank it open, ready to give them a piece of your mind. You’re rendered dumbstruck when the MSBY setter stands in the threshold of your shared home, grinning mischievously with a mistletoe held above you both in his right hand.

“Tsumu! What are you doing here?! You said you wouldn’t be till a few more days!” you gasped, excitement blatant on your face.

“I told you I’d be home for Christmas,” Atsumu replies, true to his cheesy self and winks at you.

You throw yourself at him, nearly taking you both to the floor but his reflexes worked faster, and he holds you against him tightly with one arm, lips meeting yours under the mistletoe. You can barely breathe and your ribs hurt a little but you didn’t want him to let go.

You’re breathless when you both pull away, and your cheeks are flushed. You usher him inside quickly to avoid the chill from getting into your apartment.

Atsumu gives you a once over, noting your clothing, or lack thereof. “Were you up to something naughty?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No, I was about to take a sad, lonely, bath,” you dramatize and roll your eyes. “You can join me if you like…” you saunter away into the bathroom with him hot on your heels, shedding his clothes all the way there.

By the time you get to the bathroom, he’s only left in his boxers and Atsumu’s hands are at the closure of your robe as his lips ghost over your neck. “Can I take it off?” he whispers against your skin. You swallow at the sudden change of atmosphere, and nod, allowing him to remove your only layer of clothing, and then his.

Atsumu wraps his arms around you as you both sink into the bath. You lean back against his muscled chest and sigh in bliss, the warm water was heaven to your sore muscles, and his arms around you was heaven altogether. You turn your head a little and press a kiss to his jawline, marvelling for a few seconds at his perfectly sculpted face.

The conversation after came easily to the both of you, like it always did. He told you all about what was happened at the recent tournament in Seoul, and you told him all about the latest gossip and happenings in Japan. You were pretty sure you had told each other all of this before during your phone calls, but it didn’t even matter.

Being so close to him after so long made you aware of how much you missed him and craved his presence. You always made it a point to have some alone time when you got to be together, and baths with each other just felt so much more intimate. It almost scares you when you realize just how deeply you feel for him, after only 7 months of dating. In all fairness, the feeling had been there for a while, it was just more prominent now, and you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks quietly, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I don’t know…it’s…different,” you’re not sure how to put it into words. “This feels different, in a good way, but it scares me,” you confess nervously.

He takes your hands in his, entwining your fingers. “That’s good, because I thought I was the only one feeling this way,” he kisses the spot on your shoulder that his chin was just on.

Relief floods your chest at his words and you relax a little easier now. You turn your entire body so that your lips could meet his properly, the kiss was slow and languid. He indulges you of course, because he can’t get enough of you either. You feel his hands caressing your sides, raising a wave of goose bumps over your skin, and you can’t help the mewl that escapes your mouth.

His hands come to a stop on your waist and he breaks the kiss to pull you up higher on top of him, his lips descend on your neck and continue their assault. You close your eyes, arching your neck so he had better access to it. He bites and sucks at the tender flesh, leaving a trail of marks down your neck and across your collarbones. The seductive aroma from the bath coupled with the dizzying effect of his hands and mouth on your skin was overkill for your senses, you couldn’t even think straight. All you know is that you need more.

“Tsumu…” you moan against his lips.

“Hmm?”

“More,” your fingers tangle in his faux blonde locks when he complies, one of his hands moving down between your legs and spreading your lips, pushing a finger into you, the water aiding his intrusion. You cry out in a mix of pleasure and slight pain at the burn.

He smirks against your collarbone, nipping at it, and adds another finger as you move your hips in time with his fingers. His free hand comes up and twists a nipple between his fingers.

“God! Faster!” you beg, tugging at his hair and grinding down on his fingers.

“Like this?” he teases, snapping his wrist at an even faster pace, his palm slapping against your clit as he finds that spongey spot inside of you and targets it with precision.

Your scream echoes off the tiles of the bathroom walls as you cum all over his fingers, your juices mixing with the water in the tub.

He takes you over the edge twice more in the span of less than five minutes with just his fingers, leaving you breathless and shaking on his chest, babbling nonsense.

Atsumu chuckles lowly at your incoherent pleas and whimpers. He’s feeling generous tonight, one of his hands travels down your back soothingly, while the other holds you firmly against him while you try to regain your composure. You can feel him pressing kisses into your hair as your body trembles from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

When you can speak again, you look up at him, “I want you.” You see the switch flip in his eyes, they go from soft to sharp in record time, darkening from that golden honey to almost black.

He stands up, bringing you with him, and pulls the plug letting the water in the tub go down the drain. He sets you atop the bathroom counter looking at you with something akin to danger glinting in his dark eyes. You smirk and pull him into the space between your legs, so you could wrap them around him.

It’s 12:01 when you look up at the clock.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” you whisper, looking up at him from under your lashes, knowing how that drives him crazy.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he grins, kissing you a few times playfully before his hands clamp down on your thighs and pull you hard against him, making you gasp at the contact.

“Now let me give you your present,” he murmurs lowly against your swollen lips.