#christmas part 3

[myfeetrcolddd]

Running away... literally

She'd ran away from him, all the way up to her dorm in Gryffindor tower.

Y/N spiraled there, pacing around the dorm, mumbling to herself about how to get out of this mess. "I could tell him it was a joke?" She muttered, "No, he wouldn't believe that... UGH!" She groaned and flopped face first on her bed.

It was no use, she thought, there was no avoiding her feelings.

So, like the big girl she is, she sucked it up.

Pushing herself up from her bed she turned to the clock and saw that it was nearly dinner. Had she really been pacing for that long?

Sighing, Y/N stood, heading to the bathroom, fixing her hair in the mirror before she head for the great hall.

Theodore hadn't done much since Y/N had ran away from him. He knew he should probably feel hurt about it, the girl he had liked and known for so long running like her bottom was on fire and away from him after they had finally kissed, but truth was, he didn't. Because fact was, he knew things would turn out right.

Theo also couldn't see the downside to having finally kissed her. Hell, he was giddy and grinning like an idiot by the time he finally got to the Slytherin commons.

"What are you so smiley about?" Pansy asked, grinning slightly at the sight of her dazed friend.

Theo turned to her with the widest smile she had ever seen on the boy, "Huh?" He said, his eyes glazed over slightly and Pansy laughed.

The rest of the guys tried to get answers out of him, but he was too lost in his thoughts to say much. Just hum and grunt in response, he even let out the occasional giggle.

He couldn't wait for dinner, to see her again. Theo wondered what it would take for her to kiss him again. He figured he'd give just about anything for even just a peck on the cheek.

When dinner rolled around Theo went there at the soonest time, he wanted to be there when Y/N got there.

But the Gryffindor girl didn't show up until thirty minutes into dinner, and as soon as she stepped foot into the hall Theo was on his feet, the bench behind him screeched against the floor as he stood and bushed it back slightly.

The people around him turned and looked at him curiously.

It also seemed that Y/N had noticed it. Her head turned towards the boy and her eyes widened, "Shit." She mumbled to herself, staring at the pretty boy who stared at her with a wide smile.

Her heart was jumping out of her chest. It was like when she'd first met him, when she could barely talk to him because she was so shy about being near him. Her face warmed just like it used to back then too.

Theo stepped away from the table and started walking towards her, it wasn't until he was at the end of the table did she realize what was happening.

"Oh no..." He muttered and she looked around panicked. She wasn't actually ready to confront him!

So, she did the first thing she could think of. Turned right around and hightailed it out of there.

Theo hesitated for a second before he called out for her "Y/N!" He yelled but when he realized she wasn't going to stop he started running after her.

"Y/N!" He yelled again and she looked back over her shoulder.

"AHH!" She yelled and ran faster.

"What the...?" Theo started to slow down but ran harder.

When he realized she wasn't going to stop running anytime soon he stopped himself. He didn't understand, why would she run away again? He could understand the first time, she'd just confessed and under weird circumstances. But to do that again?

For the first time in hours Theo dropped his stupid grin and frowned.

He didn't understand that girl at all.

She had ran, again. She hadn't planned on running right when she saw him, but she hadn't planned on talking to him right away as well.

It was all just too much. She felt like a little kid again. She didn't know how to act! Was she supposed to act like nothing had happened? Or maybe Theo wanted to talk about it, but did he feel the same way?

She didn't know.

(✿◕‿◕✿)

Y/N spent her weekend holed up in Gryffindor tower, she didn't eat in the great hall, she ate in the kitchens.

She knew she was acting cowardly and owed Theo a hell of a lot of explaining. She'd realized that over the weekend.

"Hi Theo." She said softly, taking the seat next to him.

The Slytherin boy tensed up, he swallowed thickly and turned to look at the girl.

While Y/N had spent the weekend planning how to confront Theo, Theo had spent it going over anything he did wrong.

He didn't know how to act. He didn't want to scare her away again, didn't want her to run away again.

"Hey, Y/N." He said, his words short and strained slightly.

His tone worried Y/N, had he already gotten over the kiss? Did he not want to speak to her anymore? Was it because she ran? Oh Godric it was because she ran wasn't it!

Despite her mind whirring with worry and doubt she forced herself to take a breath, "Can we talk, after class?"

Immediately his head turned to hers, his eyes roamed her face to try and gauge what she'd meant. Was she going to tell him the kiss meant nothing? That it was all something they should forget? Salazar he hoped not.

He nodded his head in reply. His gaze lingering on the girl longer than he knew a friend should. But he couldn't help it.

This was the first time he'd seen the girl all weekend, this up close. He could see the specks of color in her eyes, the slant of her nose, and the curve of her lips.

The lips he'd dreamt of, the way they'd feel against his, whether they'd mold against his, how she'd taste, only now he knew all those things. He knew they felt amazing against his lips and they did mold against his, and he knew she tasted like his new favorite flavour.

Slowly he dragged his eyes back up to meet hers. She stared at him, her pupils were slightly dilated and she parts her lips then licks them.

Theo groaned slightly before turning away from the mesmerizing girl. He covered his face with his hands. How the hell was he supposed to pay attention in class with her sitting right beside him, smelling like all he'll ever want in life.

The class dragged out painfully slow.

Both of them were jittery as they packed up their things. Theo followed Y/N out of the class and lead them to a secluded corner. For a moment they stood across from each other silently. They were hardly a foot away from each other.

"So-"

"I'm sorry for running away." She cut Theo off, "Both times." Y/N swallowed thickly, "And I do like you and I meant what I said under the mistletoe and I don't want to sweep whatever happened and how I feel under the rug and if you don't feel the same- if you don't feel the same way then I understand and I'll respect your boundaries." She was out of breath by the time she finished, having said it all in one go.

Theo stared at her, frozen in awe. Her words had all come out so fast, he was still processing it all.

As Theo stared at her she started to get more and more nervous. Her palms felt clammy and she didn't think the hall was this hot before.

A minute passed and her heart beat was going a mile a minute. He wasn't saying anything! What did that mean?!

"Right- well, I'll just," She said suddenly, turning to walk away.

"No!" Theo blurted, grabbing her wrist and spinning her back around and closer than she was before.

She stumbled into him, the hand not being held by his came up to rest against his chest. Y/N peered up at him, her eyes wide with confusion. "Wha-"

Before she could say anything else and before Theo could think any better of it, he kissed her.

It was more aggressive than their first kiss. But it was just as good, hell, it was even better.

Their lips met and it was like heaven. Y/N's hands tangled themselves in his hair and he groans, she found herself smiling against his lips.

Then their tongues met and Theo explored her mouth, earning sounds that would haunt him in his dreams.

"Teddy." She sighed into his mouth, "We should get to class." He didn't listen though. Instead the boy kissed her harder, more passionately and Y/N forgot what she was even talking about.

Then she remembered and tugged at his hair once more, "Teddy." She said breathlessly, "Teddy I'm serious."

The boy complied, though not as much as the girl would have liked. He moved down her jaw and her neck, kissing and nipping and sucking at the skin, all the while he was mumbling things against her skin.

"Teddy." Her voice was barely above a whisper, "Wha-what are you saying.

She tried listening harder, and eventually she heard it.

"Heaven. Heaven, my heaven. My angel." He repeated, whispering it against her skin like a prayer.

"Teddy, we're in the school hallway." Y/N knew there was no stopping the boy, what she didn't know was whether she actually wanted him to stop.

"So then how bout my dorm, Angel?" He finally pulled away from her neck, his pupils were completely dilated, the dark green color of his eyes barely there anymore, and his lips were all swollen.

He was beautiful.

AGHHH all finished!!

draculary

[novalizinpeace]

(minor) Character Introduction

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 -release 29th-

Part finale -release 31th-

[zepskies]

Love Actually - Part 3

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: You and Ben steel yourselves in order to meet your crazy family for Christmas dinner.  

AN: And here’s Part 3, lovelies. Stick around after the end for a special announcement (new BMD fic dropping next weekend)!

Remember, this is set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” There will be a few references to the original story in this. But on the whole, this can be read as a stand-alone!

Word Count: 5,300 Warnings: 18+ only! Smutty smut ahead. Lots of fluff and a potential overload of feels.~

Part 3: “Auld Lang Syne”

You leaned down, subtly grabbing his thigh.

“I need you,” you whispered in his ear. The tone of your voice set his blood alight with new interest.

Ben’s resulting smirk was subtle, but edged. “A tour it is.” 

Ben got up from the couch, giving you a thinly veiled look of smugness. He knew you’d come around. 

You nearly rolled your eyes. 

But when you told your grandfather your plans to show your boyfriend the rest of the house, he just waved the two of you off. He was too invested in the baseball game to give it much thought.

Which left Ben to follow you up the stairs, where he admired the curve of your ass in this little dress. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and grabbed a delectable handful. 

You gasped and clung to the guardrail. You shot him a warning look over your shoulder, despite your smile. 

Not yet, your gaze told him. But you took his hand and guided him the rest of the way up. His grip tightened on yours.

All right. He could wait.

When they got to the second floor though, Ben started to get curious about the large two-story house. 

“I thought you said your mom had debts,” he said. “Supposedly, that’s why you took on the job of hunting me down.”

You chuckled humorlessly. “Don’t let that Betty Crocker apron fool you. She’s a degenerate gambler.”

Behind you, Ben’s brows rose a bit.

You paused a step. “Or, well, she used to be. As you know, my family has issues.”

He snorted in response. Something else occurred to him though.

“Is this the house you grew up in?” he asked. You full on stopped walking then. 

“Oh, no,” you said, with a firm shake of your head. “She sold that house after the divorce. She bought this one with the settlement money.”

Ben ruminated over that as you led him into the guest bathroom. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, and by the time he turned around, you were there with your warm hands on his chest, shoving back his jacket.

He smirked and shrugged it off the rest of the way, then draped it on the doorknob behind him. He started with unbuttoning and rolling up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. 

You watched him with hunger in your eyes, running your hands down his firm chest and solid abs. 

You heaved a breath of relief when he pulled you in. He wrapped his arms around your waist and started kissing down your neck. You clung to his arms and tried to stop yourself from digging your nails into his nice shirt. 

“What changed your mind?” Ben asked.

“Are you complaining?” you quipped.

“Always a fucking smartass,” he rejoined. And his lips left you, with him giving you raised brow. His thigh slipped between your legs, a slow and torturous friction. “Maybe I’ll just leave that pretty pussy on fire.”

Ugh, you thought. He could be so annoying. You leveled your stern eyes up at him. 

“I need you to fuck me. Right now,” you said. “Or I’m gonna rip my aunt’s face off.” 

You reached down to cup his length firmly through his slacks, earning a grunt from him. It ended on a groan when you grazed him with your nails. He chuckled deeply.

“That’s kinda hot,” he replied. An understatement. The hairs on his arms were standing up, along with his cock. 

You smiled in amusement. “You would think so.”

He grabbed your arms and meant to kiss you, but you stopped him with your fingers against his lips. 

“Two rules: this lipstick doesn’t come off. And no. Ripping. The dress.”

By no means did you want to get caught doing this. You already felt guilty, and you two hadn’t even done anything yet. But you needed this, or else you weren’t sure you could get through dinner without any violent incidents.  

But you could tell that Ben was annoyed at being given restrictions as he stared down at you. 

“You’re making a lot of fucking demands tonight,” he said, squeezing your arms a bit.  

You smirked and tilted your face up to him. You leaned up, nearly brushing your lips with his. 

“Isn’t it more satisfying when you have to work for it?” you asked.

Ben huffed, and almost rolled his eyes. If there was one thing you enjoyed doing, it was testing his fucking patience. 

But then he smirked. “Fine.”

He gripped your arms tighter and turned you around, pressing you against the pristine granite countertop. You met his darkened gaze in the mirror.  

You knew then that he was going to do one of his favorite things: taking you from behind while he made you watch. It wasn’t the first time, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. But you parted your legs, your lower belly quivering with anticipation as his thigh encouraged you.  

His hands soothed down your arms, dragging across your body, squeezing your breasts over your dress while his lips burned down your neck once more. His teeth grazed your skin, making you shudder.

You then remembered to turn the faucet on in the sink. It would create some more background noise, and hopefully disguise your moans as his hands traveled down your body. 

You helped him slide the skirt of your dress up, tug your pantyhose down to your ankles without ripping them. 

“Hmm, I like the black lace,” he murmured behind you. His fingers dragged down your skin along with your panties.

“I know,” you replied on a shaky breath, as his fingers teased the slit of your pussy from behind, brushing between the folds. “You bought ‘em last week.”

“Did I?” he mused, as his fingers found your clit. He rubbed a bit roughly, drawing a pleased sound from your lips. “I’ve got good taste.”

A smile broke out across your face. “See? I never need to pay you any compliments. You can stroke your own ego just fine.”

Ben tilted his head at you. He peered around your shoulder to catch your eye. You gave him a sly look over your shoulder, though it was edged with desire.

“Oh yeah?” His words were a challenge. His fingers entered you then, earning an even deeper moan from you, though you tried to taper it down. “Maybe I should let you stroke your own too, huh?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. Your inner walls were already clenching on his fingers, and you had to grab his arm and the counter for balance. 

“Ben, please,” you whispered more raggedly. His smirk took on a wicked edge. 

“Oh, now it’s please?” he said, his voice drawing deeper, more gruff. “Please what?”

You couldn’t speak. His fingers were working overtime pulsing inside you, while his other hand joined, parting your folds to press on your clit like a button. You were so fucking close, you could taste it…    

But as soon as that coil began to truly tighten, Ben withdrew his fingers. You panted for breath, and your gaze snapped up to his in the mirror. You glared at him. 

“What the f���”

“Answer me,” he demanded. “Or I really will walk the fuck out right now.” 

Big talk, you thought, from the man with a rock-hard dick. But you blew out a breath and conceded to his demands. 

“Please,” you said, reaching back to stroke his cheek, running your fingers through his hair, bringing him closer. Your hand clenched in his hair. And with the other, you took his hand, still wet from where it had been inside you, and brushed it against your slippery folds. 

“This is all because of you,” you said. “Only ever for you. Fuck me until I break an ankle in these heels. ‘Til I can’t fucking breathe.”

Ben’s chest warmed. And it wasn’t just about his pride.

Somehow, you gave him everything he wanted to hear and more. Maybe that was part of what he loved about you. Even when you demanded from him, you gave him more of yourself.

So he gave you what you wanted. He guided you down onto the counter and rucked up your dress. Per rule #2, he did it gently enough so he wouldn’t rip the fabric. 

You heard his pants unzipping, felt the weeping head of his cock against your folds, teasing you for a moment. You gripped the counter and made a sound of pleading frustration. 

“I gotcha, baby,” Ben said, lowly in your ear. He gripped your hip and guided his cock inside you, nice and slow. You both breathed hard, trying to keep your voices down. He then bottomed out, and it made your inner walls flutter and tighten. He made a gutteral sound, low and pleased. “Such a good girl.”

His darkened green eyes fixed on yours in the mirror. It was heat and desire, but it was also deeper. It always had been, ever since he met you.

And for you, his gaze alone was a molten caress. If you had it your way, you could very well spend the rest of the night in the guest bathroom. In this very moment… 

But it had already been a while in here. You didn’t know how much time you had left before someone came to find you two, so you squeezed his hand on your hip. 

“Get going, cowboy,” you teased, but it was really a command. Ben saw it in your heated gaze in the mirror, meeting his. He slid out of you slow at first, but snapped back in harder. It made you jolt, but also shudder and squeeze him from the inside out. He wished he had the time to do this how he wanted, taking his time, but that was one thing they didn’t have.

He made up for it by taking you hard and deep, putting you through your paces. You held on for dear life while trying not to let your voice raise higher. It was a challenge for you, and you knew Ben liked hearing your voice. But when he hit a particularly good angle, you couldn’t help but cry out a bit. 

He brushed your hair away from your neck and pressed his lips there. He had to bite down to stifle his own grunts. It had you gasping at pain mixed with pleasure. 

He was getting close too; you could feel it in his wilder thrusts, in the tightening of his hand on your hip. You needed just a bit more.

“Ben,” you whispered. He heard the ragged need in your voice. He saw it in your eyes when he met them in the mirror, desperate for release.

“Tell me,” he ground out. 

You took his hand guided it again down to part your folds. He took the hint and once again circled the pads of his fingers against your clit—this time with purpose. Your breath hitched as the coil in your belly finally snapped and released its warmth. 

He gave you a few more hard thrusts before his hips stuttered as he groaned, and he spilled inside you. 

Oh shit. You still hadn’t gotten your IUD replaced…

Oh fucking well, you thought, as your core still quivered with pleasure. This was worth playing a bit fast and loose with your birth control.

For a while, the sounds of your mingled breaths were almost drowned out by the water running. You turned off the faucet. Then your eyes met Ben’s in the mirror, and you smiled. 

The corner of his mouth raised. He slid out of you, but you kept him close with a hand around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. Part of you couldn’t believe you just fucked your boyfriend in your mother’s house, in the guest bathroom of all places. But you felt all the better for it. 

Or at least, you no longer had a desire for blood. You stroked the arm that still held you upright, more bracing now than restrictive. You felt his seed spilling down your inner thighs, but you couldn’t yet force yourself to move. Your legs were still shaky. 

However, you knew you could rely on the strong pillar of his arms holding you. Ben rested his cheek against your hair, pressing a kiss there.

“You’re beautiful tonight,” he said. 

Your eyes widened with soft shock. When it slowly faded, you bit your lip. Your body shook with quiet laughter as your brows rose high.

“Right now?” you asked. With your dress rucked up and your pantyhose rolled down to your ankles.

“Yeah. Right now,” Ben said. “A fucking sight.” 

And he meant it. 

You could tell, and that warmed you down to your toes. Your smile softened as you rested against him and closed your eyes for a moment.

“You don’t know how glad I am that you’re here with me,” you said. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got some idea,” he murmured, smirking as you once again trembled with a giggle. 

You reluctantly detangled yourself from him to reach down under the sink for a washcloth. Ben let go of your waist, only so he could take the small towel from your hand. You looked up at him in confusion, but he leaned around you to run the cloth under a bit of warm water from the sink.

He then got down on one knee in front of you, and proceeded to clean you up himself. Your eyes widened as you stared down at him. Your breath caught in your throat. 

He’d never done this before. Something about it made you blush. The sheer intimacy of it, probably, of his hand running the warm cloth up your bare inner thighs. His free hand held one of your calves, his thumb resting just under your knee. 

You had to reach for his shoulder to stabilize yourself when the cloth swiped between your thighs, against your sensitive core. It made your lower belly tingle again with a spark of arousal. You breathed in slow and deep before you spoke.

“Not that I’m complaining, but…” you trailed. You weren’t even able to finish your question. 

Ben met your gaze with a raised brow. “What, can’t take care of my girl?” 

It took you a moment, but eventually you smiled. The kind of smile that made your insides warm and buoyant, and your stomach clench.

You had a feeling he’d overheard you and your sister talking earlier. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d eavesdropped with his superior hearing.

Your expression faded a bit when something occurred to you. You tilted your head at him.

“You heard everything my aunt said, didn’t you?” you asked. 

Ben paused a moment, holding the towel against your inner thigh. His lips drew downward as he remembered what he’d heard while trying to concentrate on the baseball game with George. 

“I’m just sayin’!” Trina said. “He might have forever, but you certainly don’t.”

If Louisa hadn’t stepped in when she had, Ben might’ve had to ruin his new suit, if not the evening.

“Seems like having a big fucking mouth runs in your family,” he muttered. 

You snorted. “Yeah, but mine’s endearing. She’s just a bitch, still bitter from her divorce.”

Ben didn’t answer. Though after he finished cleaning you up, he rested and elbow on his bent knee. His free hand dragged up your thigh and over your hip, squeezing soft flesh.

“Yeah well, put her in her place next time, or I will,” he said. His tone was edged, and you gave him a wry look. 

“I’ll try not to give you the chance,” you said. 

“I mean it,” Ben said. His gaze bore into yours, unyielding, even from where he knelt at your feet. He stood to his full height, tucking in his shirt and zipping his pants back up as he went. 

“No one’s got the fucking right to talk about our business,” he said. “And you better not listen to a goddamn word. About me, and sure as shit, not about you.”

A small, sharp breath got stuck in your throat. Just then, you found you had to swallow past a swell of emotion lodging in your throat. 

His hands found their way back to your hips and squeezed gently, but with purpose. You read it in his eyes. 

“You hearing me?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Your aunt was someone who always “meant well.” You had gotten far too used to swallowing your tongue for your mother’s sake. And at the end of the day, you usually knew how to let Trina’s words roll off. You’d certainly had plenty of practice.

But regardless, your heart grew for this man. 

You took his face between your hands, and you kissed him deeply, breaking rule #1.

You took a few more minutes to fix your clothes, your hair, and yes, your lipstick. 

When you two eventually went back downstairs, the table was nearly set. The appetizers and wine remained, along with the plates and silverware. All that was missing was dinner itself. 

“Okay, looks like dinner’s about ready. I’m gonna go and help,” you said. You gave Ben a parting smile and let your fingers run down the back of his arm. He shot you a wink, and one last pat on the ass. 

You had to stifle your squeal, sending him a playfully warning look on your way to the kitchen. You stepped back in to see your mom pouring the cranberry sauce into a serving pitcher. 

“Oh, glad Miss Congeniality could grace us again with her presence,” Trina remarked at the sight of you. 

You gave her a flat smile. “What do you need?”

“We’re serving. Help your mom,” she said, nodding behind her. You wordlessly agreed and went over to Marie, who gave you a curious look. 

“Where were you all that time?” she asked. Louisa looked over with the same question in her eyes. 

“Well, I said hi to Grandpa,” you said. It wasn’t a lie, and technically, nor were your next words. “And then I gave Ben a tour of the house.”

When the fuck is dinner already? Ben thought as he approached the dining table filled with mini quiche, pigs-in-a-blanket, and other appetizers. His stomach was starting to growl something fierce. He was craving real food, but he still grabbed one of the small plates.

While he surveyed the layout of finger food, Great Aunt Silvia sidled up next to him with her cane in hand. Ben noticed her out of the corner of his eye. According to George, she’d had a hip replacement last month. 

“Hey, there,” he greeted somewhat politely, if distracted by adding food to his small plate.  

“Oh, my days. You’re Soldier Boy,” she said in surprise. Her eyes twinkled with delight.

Where’ve you been, lady? Ben thought in annoyance. Oh, that’s right. Passed out in a damn oxy coma.

Before he could respond with something half gracious, he felt a bony hand get a meaty handful of his ass. 

He actually flinched, more at the suddenness than anything else. A pig-in-a-blanket flew from his plate and rolled off the table. 

Ben gave the old woman an incredulous look. What the fuck? 

“Excuse me?” he uttered. 

But of course, she played dumb. And she ducked quick when you came over with the mashed potatoes in large bowl. You set it down on the table, but you noted the grouchy look on his face as he looked past you into the living room. Great Aunt Sylvia waddled away with the help of her cane, back to her nice recliner. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, earning his attention.

“Silvia’s a wily old broad,” he muttered. At the look on your face, however, he felt the need to clarify. “Apparently she got my ass confused with the quiche.”    

You bit your lip, and your eyes widened. You had to stifle a shocked giggle as you glanced past him to your great aunt, who’d taken her usual seat by her brother. You slid Ben a knowing smirk.

“I thought you liked older women,” you teased. 

He scoffed. “Gotta draw the line somewhere. I think ‘hip replacement’ is that line.”

“Not running for the Astroglide, huh?” you whispered in his ear.  

He grimaced, even though he also wanted to laugh. He just shook his head. 

“Jesus Christ, enough.”

You stifled a laugh through your nose and soothed his arm. 

“Here, help us with getting the ham on the table. Maybe we can avoid another member of my family playing grab ass.”

Once Christmas dinner was all set on the dining table, you were practically salivating. You had a hard time deciding on what to try first: the ham, the sweet potato casserole, the cranberry sauce, or stick as much of all three on your fork as you could. 

You went with the latter, and Louisa eyed you with a laugh. 

“What?” you asked with your mouth full. It got Ben’s attention as well.

“You do this every year,” Louisa remarked. “It’s like you forgot how long it takes to get dinner on the table in this house.”  

“I’m freakin’ starving,” you admitted. 

“Yeah? Worked up an appetite, did you?” Ben asked, a bit pointedly, despite the way he sipped at his wine. (And paying you back for that Astroglide quip). 

You shot him a warning look at his audacity.

Louisa seemed to be the only one who caught the exchange, with a suspicious brow raise. 

“So Ben,” Trina began, around a mouthful of ham. Already her voice set you on edge. “What was it like in the ‘40s? You know, with the Nazis and everything.”

You and Ben shared a subtle glance. His jaw clenched. 

Fuuuucking hell, you thought.

From the head of the table, Grandpa George looked over at his eldest daughter with an annoyed glint in his eye. 

“Katrina, do us all a favor,” he said wryly. “Keep stuffin’ your face.” 

You bit your lip against a grin. Louisa shared your same problem, snorting into her Diet Coke. 

Trina looked adequately indignant, but to everyone’s relief, she just pursed her lips and speared at her plate.  

The rest of dinner was interesting, to say the least, with many questions thrown to Ben about his celebrity days. He ate up the attention, just as you thought he would. It seemed your little escapade upstairs loosened him up too. He told his favorite stories, editing the more graphic anecdotes out of some of them, you noticed gratefully. 

The atmosphere only got tense when Ben bit into some kind of casserole Marie made. The texture was soft and stringy with green beans, but there was something unpleasantly sweet, and even crunchy in the middle. Uncooked noodles, maybe? Frankly, he wasn’t sure what he was eating. 

“You all right, hun?” Marie asked him. 

“What is this?” Ben asked, pointing down at his plate with a fork. 

“Ah.” Trina peered at his plate, and then the suspect casserole. “It’s probably not quite right. God love her, but my sister’s no Gordon Ramsay.”

You frowned as your mom’s gaze fell. Her lips drew downwards in disappointment. 

Before you could speak up, Ben’s voice stopped you. 

“You know what,” Ben said. His voice was tight, in a way that told you he might just snap. Your aunt’s questions had gotten more intrusive and annoying over the past hour, too much even for him to let roll down his back. He was used to dealing with shitty press, but Trina was fucking relentless.

Someone better fucking muzzle this bitch before I do it for her. 

The words were about to fly out of his mouth, in a very real threat. Ben only took his belt off in public for two reasons: a good fuck and a good old-fashioned hog tie. Your aunt was about to get the latter. 

However, he could tell by the way you were gripping the edge of the table, you were bracing yourself for whatever he was going to say next. All eyes were on him.

Ben drew in a breath. With every cell of effort left in him, he turned to Marie with a smile. As pleasant as he could manage. 

“I was just trying to figure out what you put in this, because it’s delicious,” he said.

Marie blinked with a bit of surprise, but then, she brightened. 

“Oh…well, it’s just green bean casserole. A bit of butter, some Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup. That classic recipe,” she said.

But she paused, in a way that told Ben that the other shoe was about to drop. 

“…And I just added a few raisins and walnuts this time. For some texture,” she said with a shrug. “You know, something different.”

She smiled at Ben, while he and the rest of the table tried not to grimace. Who the fuck puts raisins in cream of mushroom? That’s just wrong.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said.

Ben offered her a nod, but he had to take a long sip of wine to wash the unpleasant mix of overbearing salt and sweetness down. 

He felt your soft hand squeeze his under the table. When he looked over, he found your subtle, thankful smile. The corner of his mouth raised, however slightly. 

The night ticked on, and Ben subtly checked his watch while he chilled out on the couch. He was at the edge of the festivities now, as your family was exchanging gifts by the modest Christmas tree in the living room. 

He surveyed them all—warm and comfortable with one other as they joked and hugged and talked and laughed. Even Trina looked less irritating. 

Ben felt a bit like an intruder. 

Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever had this. A quiet, family Christmas.  

Though he was a bit surprised when Marie was the first one to walk over to him. She sat down on the couch and offered him two gift bags. One was larger than the other.

“You didn’t have to,” he told her, but she waved him off.

“Nonsense. When I saw this, I couldn’t help thinking of you,” she said. Ben began opening the larger one first. It was a simple, dark blue bag. 

“You might think it’s silly,” she said, folding her hands in her lap in a slightly nervous gesture. “Feel free to return it if you don’t like it.”

Ben pulled out a nice bottle of whiskey. He actually appreciated this one. 

“Oh! That’s from Louisa,” said Marie. 

“Really?” He glanced over and found Louisa sitting on the floor beside you. 

You were busy trying to cut through a present Grandpa George had wrapped with duct tape, just to be an asshole. (He did this to you every year, precisely because it frustrated you so much.)  

But Louisa looked up and met Ben’s gaze, giving him a wry smile and a lazy soldier’s salute. His lips quirked, and he inclined his head in wordless thanks.

“This one next,” Marie prompted him. She tapped on the second gift bag, which was bright green and shiny. 

There he found a leatherbound journal and a set of silver ballpoint pens. They looked expensive. They also reminded him of a set his father used to keep in his desk, in his study. Even the smell of the leather brought him back to that room, filled with books, crisp ink-filled pages, and tumblers of whiskey.  

“I’ve worked in a hospital for over ten years, in the psychology wing,” Marie said. “I see a lot of veterans. Lisa, my friend who’s a nurse? She told me that writing things down can help with memories you want to keep, and sort through the ones you’d rather not.” 

Ben held her gaze for a moment, but it soon fell to the journal. He didn’t really know what to say. For once, he was at a loss for words. 

Mostly because he was irritated. He didn’t need what she was offering, and implying…

Still, it was hard to get mad at someone like Marie. It would be like all those times he’d snapped at his own mother, leaving him feeling hollow inside afterwards. He’d always apologized to her later…in his own way. 

But that was a long time ago.

“Sorry,” Marie said eventually. “I know, you’re too busy for all that. But at least you’ve got the whiskey.”

“Thank you,” Ben said. But the reserved smile he offered her was more genuine than even he expected. The journal and the pens still laid in his lap. 

Marie smiled warmly, and in it, Ben saw your inner softness. The way you cared about your family and your friends, and him…he knew then that it began here.

Marie gave his cheek a motherly pat. Ben allowed it, begrudgingly.

“We’re so glad you’re here, honey,” she said. “I hope you had a good time.”

He was a bit relieved when she finally moved on. She headed over to Louisa, who was opening one of her gifts. You got up off the floor returned to your boyfriend with a wrapped box in your hand. First, you admired his small haul. 

“Look who’s popular,” you noted with a grin. Ben gave you a bemused look and put the gifts back in their respective bags. 

“I’ve got one more for you,” you said, with a teasing smile that made him suspicious. You handed him the box, which was about the size of a large book. The sticker said it was from you, to him.

His brows furrowed. “What’s this?”

You already got him the watch. But at your gesturing, he ripped the green wrapping paper off to find…a photo album. 

“Really, what is this?” he asked. 

“You can’t tell?”

“I know what it is—”

“Well, then open it,” you prodded. You sat down next to him as he started flipping through the album. 

The very first picture wiped the curious expression from his face. It was his mother, crisp in black and white. She was young and beautiful and smiling almost shyly for the camera on a windy day. 

Right beside it, there was one of his parents’ wedding pictures, old and yellowed around the corners. The third was a faded picture of the club where his parents met. His mother had been a singer there. 

You leaned over with a hand on his shoulder. Ben looked over at you.

“What the hell did you do?” Ben he asked. His face was hard to read, but he didn’t look upset. His tone was more resigned.

“I found your stash of pictures under the bed, so I thought I’d put them together for you,” you said. You bit your lip in worry, hoping he would like it. You weren’t sure of his reaction yet.

After a moment, he kept flipping. Next were a few pictures of himself, incredibly young and already with a familiar cocky grin. There was even a rare picture of him and his parents together. He remembered when and where it was taken—at his father’s birthday, right after Ben got kicked out of boarding school. 

He hadn’t looked at these pictures in…hell. It’d been decades. He'd retrieved them from an old storage locker last month, but hadn't gotten around to actually opening up the box. Now, he supposed, he didn't have to.

But the album then skipped ahead, by a lot, because the next row of pictures was unfamiliar to him—ones you must’ve added. 

They were of the Supe Affairs team. One was a group picture Hughie managed to grab with all of you in it. 

There was another right beside it, of Hughie trying to lift Ben’s shield. 

“When the fuck did that little shit get ahold of my shield?” Ben groused.

“No idea,” you said with a smile, and you flipped the page. There was an old school polaroid of you with Frenchie and Kimiko, sharing milkshakes. Then you and Annie, clinking cocktails together. Followed by you and M.M. trying to beat Butcher at backgammon. 

And then one of you, your friend Yvette, and her son Devon in Central Park. Another beside it, on that same day, where Ben had an arm raised high and parallel to the ground, and Devon clung onto his arm with a wide smile. 

Ben lingered on that picture for a moment. He was too engrossed in it to see you glance at him, smiling.

He flipped to the next page, where there was a picture of just you and Ben, sleeping in the jet on the way back from a rare field mission you were a part of. He was still in his supe suit, with an arm thrown around your waist. You were resting on his chest, and both of you were completely knocked out. Ben quirked a smile at that one. 

On that page and the next was a series of pictures from the past few months. He didn’t know this, but you’d been collecting them from your phone and had gotten them developed. 

There was the first time Ben got you to ride a motorcycle with him. You were apprehensive, clinging to him for dear life while he grinned. It had taken him a while to convince you to hop on, but the only thing that worked was finally telling you the truth. 

“You really think for one damn second that I’m gonna let you fall?”

The next picture was one he got of you, fresh out of the shower with a towel barely wrapped around you. You were clearly annoyed, but also amused that he’d surprised you with the camera. Ben now pointed to it.

“That one’s my favorite,” he grinned.

“Shocker,” you said with a chuckle. “Keep flipping.”

He then got to one you took of him. He was sitting out on the balcony, half-dressed with a cigar puffing away. The sun was setting beyond him. You caught his profile as he turned to look at you over his shoulder. 

It was a good memory for you, and some damn good photography skills, if you did say so yourself. 

But there was another picture that drew Ben’s eye. It was one that Annie sneakily took of you and him on a night out with her, Hughie, Kimiko, and Frenchie. After a bit of alcohol and cajoling, you’d managed to get Ben out on the dance floor. You were both dewy with sweat from dancing. The lighting was off because of the darkness of the club. 

But the way he was holding you, looking at you with fire thinly veiled behind his eyes, and the way you were looking up at him, like you’d never been more satisfied than to be right where you were…

It was a damn perfect moment captured in four corners. And as Ben’s finger traced the edge of them, he couldn’t stop staring at what it held. 

Until you leaned in and kissed his cheek. 

“Merry Christmas,” you said. And you hoped it was officially a good one.  

When Ben once again turned his head to look at you, he couldn’t help but reach out and frame your face with his hand. He then leaned in and kissed you, unhurried, but with an underlying passion. 

Delightful heat crawled down your spine. You grasped his collar to keep him where you wanted him. 

Meanwhile, the two of you didn’t realize that the rest of your family was surreptitiously watching the little scene. Trina and Marie shared amused smiles. George was glad to see that you finally seemed happy. Sylvia was, once again, passed out in the recliner.

Louisa’s expression was more reserved…but her eyes softened. Maybe she didn’t have to worry about you so much after all.

And when Ben finally parted from you, he thumbed gently at your chin.  

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said.

You and Ben left your mother’s house with plenty of leftover food and a haul of presents, which you both brought upstairs into your apartment. 

“So, I know there were some snafus, but it was nice, right?” you asked him as you made your way into the bedroom.

Ben was already there at his dresser, taking off his new watch and placing it back in its black suede box for safe keeping. He considered your words with a nod, and a smile you couldn’t see.

“It wasn’t bad,” he said. 

You nodded in satisfaction. That was practically a glowing review, coming from him. 

His gaze found yours in the mirror, those perfectly red painted lips forming a smile as you approach from behind. Your hands travelled through the bows of his arms to unbuckle his belt for him. 

“I know you did me a lot of favors today, but I’m gonna need one more,” you said, with a coy smile curving your lips. “I need your help taking off this lipstick.”

Smirking, Ben turned in your arms and leaned back casually against the dresser. Using his unfastened belt as leverage, you leaned up in your heels and met his lips in a slow, but fiery kiss.

His eyes unconsciously closed as the scent of your perfume once again invaded his nose. It was less powerful by now, but it still clung to your skin like a soft imprint. He liked it. 

After your lips drew away from his, Ben watched you make a show of undoing the small latch on his pants, and then his zipper. He sunk his fingers into the soft waves of your hair, and he gave you a charming grin that once got him starlets and movie deals. 

“Well, I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he said.  

You smirked at that. You didn’t know if fucking you in your mom’s house constituted as gentlemanly behavior, but you’d let that slide. 

And you did some sliding yourself, down his strong thighs and onto your knees. He could take care of you all right, but you prided yourself on taking care of him too. 

AN: And there you have it, folks. 😜 What did you think? From bathroom shenanigans and Christmas dinner to some good old-fashioned gift giving. I think we covered it all! lol

Coming Soon: "Strong As Blood"

The next story I have lined up for the BMD-verse will probably be my last planned one for a hot minute, other than one request I got that I really want to do in the near future (but I haven't written it as of yet).

This next one is called, "Strong As Blood":

Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out? 

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

[lunarharp]

hehe. almost christmas!

[naffeclipse]

Merry Christmas @o-cinnamonstickz! This is dedicated to the most wonderful person in the world, my loveliest friend, and a dear soul. Cinna, I hope you know how much I adore you. You are such a kind and gentle soul. You flutter around my life like butterflies of every color and you deserve every sip of nectar and taste of honey. Thank you for being my friend. Won't you indulge with me once again?

A Garden Of Garlic

Part 1: An Encounter at Midnight

Vampire!Sun x Y/N (SFW)

You nurse the wild garlic growing in your garden, tend to the dead (and ensure they stay resting in peace,) and keep a watchful eye out for vampires in your cozy little town. There's much you don't know, but you do know this: automatons can't become vampires. But then you meet Sun. A count, an automaton, and, to your surefire conviction, a vampire.

Word Count: 10,700~ Warnings: Please see tags/warnings.

A/N: This is the first part of a three-part series focused on Vampire!Sun and his romance with a human female reader. The short journey will contain many gratifying moments, mild lore, and much of Sun being an equal menace and sweetheart. Expect to see the next part posted tomorrow, and the last posted after that.

[whinesandwhimpers]

bf!gaz gives you the best present on christmas morning

"Gaz?" You call out from the bed you and him share, having just discovered he isn't on his side of it.

You hop out of bed and wander into the living room.

"Gaz? How come you're not—" Your hand comes up to cover your mouth in a mix of shock and surprise when you spot him.

He's lying right in front of the Christmas tree on his side, head resting on one of his hands, the other hand laying on the side of his thigh. He's got that award-winning smile on his face—one of the first things that made you fall in love with him—and he's only wearing a pair of red and green striped boxers with a star gift bow stuck to the front that isn't big enough to cover the complete outline of his dick.

"Merry Christmas, Love. Do you want to unwrap your present now?"

"Gaz!" You giggle, dropping your hand from your mouth and walking over to him. "You're so silly!"

"Can't help it. You bring it out of me."

His smile morphs into a sly grin as he moves onto his back, both of his forearms holding him up, and spreads his legs, allowing you to drop to your knees between them.

"You know," You trail your fingers up his thigh. "I think..." You lightly pull the band of his boxers to make it snap against his skin before you lean over him, bringing your face closer to his. "This might just be the best present I've ever gotten."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah." You nod, before leaning forward and connecting your lips with his.

When he tries to deepen the kiss more, you pull away, peppering kisses along his jaw and down his neck while you reach down and rip the star gift bow off his boxers and throw it carelessly away. You continue trailing kisses over his collarbone, down his chest, revelling in how he shivers at the sensations. When you reach his lower stomach, you grab his boxers and pull them off, letting his large, hardening cock spring free and rest against his stomach.

You wrap your hand around his length, feeling it twitch, and look up at him with wide eyes full of mock innocence. "For me?"

"All yours, Baby." He exchanges a mischievous smile with you.

You spend all morning playing with your new present.

[vcrnons]

[ MIX & MAX ] NCT MARK & JISUNG 'Some Minds & Voices' ( for @ncteez <3 )

[deliciousdefendorinternet]

do you think Branch would still feel somewhat uncomfortable around his Bros in the future? Due to being so unfamiliar with being a part of a family? 😞😞😞😞

even tho they seemed like they were willing to try at being a family again at the end of TBT but obviously 20 something years is a Hell of a long time and in Branch's case it was pretty much his whole life.

so do you think there'd still be a level of tension and uncomfortability?

like maybe we see the other Bros just playing happy families seemingly easily slotting back into their old dynamic while of course having fun sharing the newer parts of their lives with each other.

but maybe Branch would still feel somewhat uncomfortable about it even if he isn't exactly sure why or maybe he even straight up has a touch of imposter syndrome feeling like he doesn't belong in the family or any kind of family for that matter.

given he spent nearly his entire life as a loner so I can't imagine suddenly being expected to slot into a a big family would be all that easy kinda different from the other Bros where they all mostly grew up together.

and even after splitting apart went on to still have close people in their lives Bruce obviously had his wife and later children Clay had Viva and the rest of the Putt Putt Trolls.

and while Floyd doesn't have any cannon relationships I imagine he was a fairly sociable person who at least had close friends over the years.

only exception is JD given he also lived mostly alone for all those years with only Rhonda for company but he still Grew up with the Brothers and their Grandma up until he was likely a late teenager/young adult.

so I feel Branch would very likely be the one who'd have the Hardest time adjusting to just suddenly being a part of a large family again or any kind of family at all really.

what do you think? do you think there'd still be some awkwardness/uncomfortableness from Branch when it comes to his Family in the future?

I find this stuff interesting to think about lol I Really got my Fingers crossed we do get that Christmas Special in the future and they explore something like this since it'd be a pretty good chance to do so if it does take place around Bro zone's first Christmas back together as a family.

Branch straight up lived by himself as an orphan for most of his life so having him just be all okay and easily adjusting to having 4 Brothers back in his life would be disappointing tbh.

[georgekirrin]

For those wondering who George Kirrin is: may I present 8-year-old me's hero, a 1940s children's book character

[sunshinediaz]

merle said mama tried, but the prison still won | 2.9k, teen

“You’ve made bail, Diaz.”  Eddie stands, wipes his sweaty hands off on his jeans, and clears his throat. “This isn’t even a real jail, Dwight,” he says, stepping through the makeshift cell door held open for him, and looks over at his rescuer. “Hi, Buck.”  Buck sighs, shakes his head, but he grins at him, anyway. “Hi, Eddie,” he says, definitely a tad bit exasperated, and turns to speak with Dwight. “Thanks, man. I’ll see you at Azure’s party?”  “Sure thing, Buck.” Dwight reaches out to shake Buck’s hand while Eddie grabs his phone and pocketknife off the desk. “Keep him in line?”  “That’s a hard job, but I’ll do my best,” Buck says, laughing, and then turns to Eddie. He wraps his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, squeezes a little too hard, and uh oh, Eddie’s in trouble. He’s equal parts excited and nervous. “All right, Eds. Let’s get out of here.”   “See you boys later.”  Like a good little dog, Eddie follows Buck out of the security office, down the brightly-lit corridor, and out the side exit that opens up into the parking lot. It’s still early, only a little after noon; Buck’s parked right next to Eddie’s truck in the second row, fourth and fifth slot. His Jeep has a big red ball attached to the front grill, a silly rendition of Rudolph Christopher was delighted to employ.  “Okay, Eddie. Throw me a bone here.” Buck turns and leans against the front of Eddie’s truck, crossing his arms over his chest. They’re so big, bulging so pretty it squeezes his tits. Eddie goes a little cross-eyed. “What happened?” 

read the rest on ao3

[daily-dose-of-joey-richter]

part 3 of the grunch is out! so obviously for today's daily dose of joey richter i have to post scrags again ❤️ i know all he does is have daddy issues, complain, be anxious, cry, be done™️ with everyone and everything, be uncomfortable, cry and complain again ― but that's why he's so relatable to me ok. i love this skittish sad sap

[mazanarry]

MERRY CHRISTMAS

[zepskies]

If You Want It To Be - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: And here’s Part 3! This fic is an entry for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event. 🩵❄️

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 3,600 Tags/Warnings: 18+! Smuttish, fluff and feels.

Part 3: Christmas Day

The next day, Christmas morning comes. You’re up early after a night of somewhat restful sleep (anticipation of today kept you up for a while). 

And so are the guys, though their enthusiasm isn’t as bright as yours. 

Everyone is still in their pajamas, the humans with their mugs of coffee as you corral your friends into the living room by the sparkling, multicolored tree.

During your trip to Walmart on your first night in, you managed to squeeze in some shopping for actual presents. Your wallet now hates you, and likely will until February. 

But it’s worth it to see the guys’ faces when they find their names on gift-wrapped boxes under the tree. Jack in particular wears an expression of wonder, almost like a little kid. It makes you smile. 

Everyone has a small gift from you, though they clearly weren’t expecting it. Sam accepts his parcel from you with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I don’t think any of us remembered about this part,” he says.

“No worries,” you wave him off. “It’s just a ‘thank you’ for letting me crash here for the holidays.”

You have a new book for Sam, an old-school Gameboy for Jack, a new set of ties for Castiel. You hold your breath when Dean sits down on the couch to open his. 

He considers the small box with slightly furrowed brows. He glances up at you. 

“What’d you do?” he asks. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Just open it, Dean,” you reply with a laugh. A smile twitches at his face, and he finally obliges you. 

Inside the black velvet box is a nice silver watch with a leather strap. 

Dean blinks in surprise. He glances over at his empty wrist where his father’s watch used to rest, but he hasn’t replaced it since it broke after the witch hunt in Indiana.  

You come over to sit beside him and point out the new watch’s features.

“This part is adjustable,” you explain. “I figured you could take it off and use the strap for your dad’s watch.”

A slow smile spreads across Dean’s face, warm and somewhat disbelieving. You bought him a whole new watch, just so he could use the leather strap for his old one. 

Something in his heart tightens, and also eases when he looks up at you. You’re smiling, a little nervous. 

And Dean can’t help himself. He cups a hand behind your head and kisses your cheek, wishing he could do more, but not wanting to invite curiosity. Already he can feel Sam’s gaze on both of you.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dean says. “This is…it’s real nice. Thank you.” 

But Sam notices the warmth in his brother’s voice, and the way he looks at you. And the way you’re looking at him, like he hung the damn moon. 

It brings a suspicious smile to Sam’s face. 

When you offer to pick up breakfast, Dean intervenes and says you’ve done enough. Sam will get breakfast going, he insists. (And Sam, rolling his eyes, agrees with him.)

“I’m gonna step out for a sec, but I’ll be back,” Dean then says. 

“See ya later,” you reply with a little wave before you go to help Jack set up his Gameboy. Castiel is already sorting through his new ties, arranging them by color, then by pattern on the sofa. 

You glance over your shoulder though, and manage to catch the way Sam pulls his brother aside. You don’t hear what they’re saying, but it sparks your curiosity. 

“What?” Dean asks. Sam raises a brow at him, with a knowing smile. 

“Get her something good,” Sam tells him. 

“Dude, shut up,” Dean holds a finger over his lips and glances over at you. Thankfully, you seem invested in helping Jack. 

“I’m just saying. Put some effort in,” Sam persists. His eyes hold a teasing glint. “Nothing from the gas station.”

“All right, I got it,” Dean snipes back. It’s none of Sam’s business, really, but he already has an idea growing in his mind as he heads down to the garage.

Dean has all but disappeared since this morning. You thought the two of you were going to talk at some point, but you haven’t seen him all day. 

Maybe it’s stupid, but you start to wonder if he’s avoiding you. If the gift was too much…

Sam happens to catch you lost in thought while you’re glazing a large ham in the kitchen.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asks. 

“Sure,” you reply. “Want to peel the potatoes?”

You glance at the bag on the counter. Sam agrees and joins you to wash and start peeling for you. 

“Have you seen Dean?” you ask him, hopefully subtle. 

Sam’s lips start to form a knowing smile, but he dims it down. “He’s probably in the garage.”

“…Oh, right. God forbid I bother him while he’s working on his car,” you joke. Sam glances at you.

“Or yours, most likely,” he says. “He did promise to get it done by today. Didn’t you guys have a little bet going?” 

He knew about that? you think with a blush. 

“That was silly,” you admit. “It’s Christmas. He should just relax.” 

“When my brother says he’s gonna do something, he commits,” Sam says. “He deals with people the same way.”

You raise a brow at him. “What do you mean?”

Sam just smiles, like he knows something you don’t. He finishes peeling the last potato and sets it down on the counter with the rest.

“All right, what’s next?” he asks.

Once the ham is in the oven and the other side dishes you and Sam prepared are set off to cook, you return to your room to shower and get ready for dinner later. 

You decide to wear the dress you found while you were shopping, before you even knew your relationship with Dean would change. 

You almost went with a red lacy one, but there was something about this dress—green velvet, off the shoulder sleeves and flaring at the waist. It’s simple, but pretty. You pair it with some comfortable black flats. 

You spend longer getting ready, only having to redo your eyeliner once this time. Then you steel yourself, gaining some confidence, and you go downstairs. 

Jack is in the kitchen, sneaking a finger in the cranberry sauce.

“I saw that,” you tease. He stiffens like you’ve caught him red-handed. He quickly tucks his hands behind his back. He notices how you’ve cleaned yourself up with a polite nod.

“You look very nice,” he says. 

“Thanks!” you chirp, blushing lightly. “Want to help me set the table?”

Jack obliges you like the nice kid he is. You two set up the long dining table that the guys usually use for research, first with the new red tablecloth, then the plates and silverware and glasses. 

And finally, while Jack checks on the ham in the oven, you place the (fake) gold candleholders on each side of the table. 

Dean comes out of wherever he’s been hiding, right as you’re leaning far over the table to light a candle. You don’t realize how your dress rides up your thighs in the back, but Dean is captivated by the sight for a moment…until he clears his throat. 

“Need some help there, sweetheart?” 

His unexpected voice startles a yelp out of you. You flail as you lose your balance, but he hooks an arm around your waist and prevents you from catching your hand on fire. He brings you flush against him, smirking down at you.

“Nice reflexes,” he teases. “When’s your audition for the Karate Kid?”

“Oh, shut up,” you gripe back. 

You shoot him a playful glare as you rest your palms against his chest. But it loses its effect when you melt into his subsequent kiss. You reach up to twine your arms around his neck, letting your nails graze up the back of his neck and through his hair. 

He shudders a little, with a pleasant hum, making you smile against his lips.

He breaks from you with a customary Dean grin, which is equal parts flirtatious, amused, and a hint cocky.

“Miss me?” he asks. You smile through your blush, but you have to taper down your inclination to say yes. His gaze drags down your body with interest. 

“I like this dress too,” he says, and his voice fairly rumbles. Along with his scrutiny, it makes your face flare with heat. Your fingers play with a button on his shirt, red flannel this time. He rubs the soft velvet along your hip.

You tilt your face up to him, despite your lingering blush. 

“Where’ve you been all day?” you ask. He quirks a smile. 

“I’ll show you,” Dean says. 

Dean takes your hand and leads you downstairs to the garage. 

There you find the remains of your car, which has rusted out parts strewn haphazardly all over the ground. You raise a brow. This is how he fixes your car? 

“You are so not winning the bet.”

Dean snorts. “It’s an old rust bucket. Needs a complete fucking overhaul, or the scrap heap. If you really want, I’ll get the new parts, fix it up top to bottom…or, you could just take a stroll through my garage.”

He gestures around, where classic cars are lined up on either side of you. A wide grin spreads across your face. 

“Oh my God, you’ll let me drive one of these?” you say in excitement. 

“You can pick one out and take it home,” Dean replies. Though he doesn’t want to think about you leaving…maybe you two can talk that over later.

Your smile falters. “What? Dean, no. This is your collection.”

He pulls you in by your waist and gently bucks his hand beneath your chin. 

“Call it my gift to you,” he says. You notice his father’s watch once again rests on his wrist, with the help of the new leather strap you bought for him.  

“You’d really give me a whole freakin’ car?” you ask, tearing up and beaming bright at the same time. 

Dean brushes your cheek tenderly with curled fingers; his answer is in his eyes. You try your best to blink away your would-be tears. He catches the one that falls from the corner of your eye with his thumb.

“Why don’t you go pick one out?” he suggests, nodding behind you. 

Biting your lip, you reach up and kiss him sweetly before you get started. You miss the way Dean blushes a bit. Because you’re already meandering down the line of beautiful old classics. 

Soon enough you stop at an interesting red one.

“Ooh, this one’s nice,” you say. Dean is unimpressed. 

“No,” he shakes his head, crossing his arms. 

“What, why?”

“I ain’t puttin’ you in a Volvo. Come on, you can do better than that.”

“But it’s cute.”

“Remember, you’re gonna be driving across state lines,” he reminds you. “You want something reliable, strong.”

You huff and decide to keep looking, but you lay a gentle hand on the side mirror. 

“I might be back for you. Don’t go anywhere.”

A smile threatens Dean’s lips as he watches you. He knows for sure he’s losing the bet. But it’s worth it for this moment right here.

You flit between the rows of cars. Finally, you stop at a funky mint green one. It reminds you of a car your grandfather had when you were a kid, when he’d take you out for ice cream on a Sunday.

“You like that one?” Dean asks. He walks over and joins you at the car, soothing a hand over its hood.

“I think I do. What is it?” you ask.

“A Ford Thunderbird, 1960.” Dean’s gaze meets yours, and he smiles. “Good choice. 5.8-liter V8 engine. 300 horsepower. This gal was powerful in her time.”

“Let’s see if she still is,” you say with a grin. 

So you and Dean break out the Thunderbird into the open roads of Lebanon, Kansas. 

Dean gives you pointers on driving stick, as it’s been a while for you. But after a few minutes, you regain the hang of it and test the car’s powerful sounding engine. It almost rumbles as loud as Baby. 

“Oh, crap. What about dinner?” you realize. “The guys must be waiting on us.”

“Eh, they’ll live,” Dean says with a grin. “Keep going. There’s a park right around the corner here.”

Sure enough, you’re about to turn into a park that borders on a small, but beautiful lake. You probably should’ve brought a coat; the car’s old heater isn’t doing you much good in your little dress. 

But right now, you don’t care. Because this is a perfect moment, and you don’t think you could be much happier. 

You park the car in view of the sparkling lake. Before Dean can turn to you and ask what you think of the car, you’ve started climbing over the upholstery over to his side. 

“Whoa. Easy tiger,” he chuckles as you grunt and struggle. 

“Here’s my Karate Kid audition,” you joke, earning an even deeper laugh from Dean.

But he helps guide you into his lap, where you straddle his hips and reach down to anchor his seat back. The two of you laugh when it momentarily gets stuck, but Dean is able to fix it. With a turn of his wrist, his seat jerks back and gives you more room to maneuver. 

His warm hands smooth up the back of your thighs while you find purchase on his shoulders. 

“Hmm. You’re cold, babe,” he remarks with a frown, and he rubs your legs more to generate some warmth on your skin. “Should’ve brought your jacket.”

Your legs might be cold, but your face heats up at the way he calls you babe. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like you’re really his.

Your answering smile is both warm and playful.

“Who needs clothes when I’ve got a big, strong, flannel-wearing man to warm me up,” you tease, soothing your hands along his toned arms. 

It lifts his frown into an amused grin, even as he shakes his head and grips your thighs more firmly.

“Oh, so I’m a portable heater now?” he remarks. 

“Yup,” you nod with a grin as you lean down. “Do your job, heater.”

Swiping your hair over your shoulder, you lean down for a sweet kiss. But it quickly gains in passion as his tongue slips past the seam of your lips. His hands move to take a healthy grip of your ass, grinding you down into his lap. 

A pleased sound gets trapped in your throat when you feel his length pressing against your core through his jeans. You slip a hand into his hair, deepening the kiss and nipping at his lower lip.  

You feel like a teenager making out with your boyfriend in some backwoods clearing. But it’s an exhilarating feeling.

You never thought you’d be able to do this. Not with Dean. 

You cup his face in your hands and pull back a bit.   

“I love this car,” you say. “You really gonna give it to me?”

Dean smirks. Once again, your lipstick (though lighter this time) is smudged all over his mouth and chin. You wipe some of it off with your thumb.

“Maybe I won’t,” he says. “Maybe I’ll take my sweet time fixing that rusted out piece of shit sitting in my garage.”

You giggle against him, and his hands smooth up your thighs, rucking up the skirt of your dress.

“Is that your plan?” you reply. “Strand me at the bunker, make sure I can never go home?”

“Something like that,” he says. “Gotta keep my girl close.”

You huff. “Your girl? That’s presumptuous.”

“Oh, really?” Dean gives a deep chuckle. “Weren’t you the one who said this wasn’t a one-time deal?”

“No, you said that. I’m just along for the ride,” you quip.

But you think you’ve teased him too much when his amusement starts to fade. His green eyes dim to embers as he tilts his head.

“Is that right?” he asks. 

You soften, gazing down at him with a more genuine smile. You press your hand to the side of his face, letting your thumb sooth over the apple of his cheek. 

“Dean, of course not,” you say patiently. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”  

That admission is thick in your throat. It comes out at nearly a whisper. 

But then, the shadows begin to clear from Dean’s eyes. His lips curve into a more familiar smile.

He kisses you, and the two of you continue exploring one another. Not to mention, testing the limitations of a reclined car seat.

By the time you two get back to the bunker, the dinner table is a mess. The guys have clearly eaten without you, and now Sam is trying to explain the finer points of football to Cas and Jack in the living room. He pauses when he notices you and his brother walk in.

“Where’ve you guys been?” he asks. But he spies Dean’s hand resting on the small of your back with a smile. “The food is in the kitchen. All you need to do is heat it up.”

“Thanks!” you call to him on your way to the kitchen. 

Dean means to follow you, but he stops short when he sees a framed picture of Mary Winchester hanging on the wall in the living room. He draws closer to it, not realizing that the others are watching him. Most of them with curiosity, and one with hopeful wariness. 

His mouth curves with a slight smile. Someone caught her by surprise. He can tell by the way she’s looking over her shoulder in the 8” by 10” frame. She wears her favorite green jacket—one that Sam bought for her last year. Her hair brushes past her shoulders in a haphazard mix of blonde curls and waves. But her smile. That smile’s even more golden.

“Who put this here?” Dean asks. When he doesn’t get an answer, he glances back and finds his brother’s gaze first. He just smiles, but doesn’t look like the culprit. Dean moves on to Cas, who subtly shakes his head.

Jack, on the other hand, looks both guilty and hopeful, before his eyes fall to the folded hands in his lap. 

Instinctively, Dean wants to tighten up. But when he looks back at his mom’s smile, a little more of the edge in his heart crumbles. 

“She looks good there,” he says. He turns back to Jack and gives him a nod…and a reserved smile. The nephilim hesitates to return it, but when he does, it’s a genuine one. 

Dean moves on to the kitchen, where he pretends not to catch the way you’d been surreptitiously watching the scene from the kitchen. You duck your head and continue cutting some ham for the two plates you’ve set out on the counter.     

Dean’s face lights up when he finds the pies: pecan and apple. 

“Okay, you want mashed potatoes or macaroni with the ham?” you ask him. Dean raises a brow at you. You smile in amusement.

“What am I thinking? Both, obviously,” you say. 

“Obviously,” Dean quips with a nod. 

“Ah, well that’s interesting,” says Castiel. It stops both hunters in the kitchen with curious looks. 

“It seems you’re caught again,” the angel tells you, nodding up to the mistletoe poised above you and Dean. 

You roll your eyes, while Dean just smirks. You glance up at him with a question in your eyes. 

Should we tell them? you ask.

Dean’s smile grows. Hell, yeah.

He leans in to cup your cheek, and he kisses you soundly—something that shocks both angels…but not Sam. You close your eyes with a sound of contentment. You grab onto Dean’s shirt, holding him close.

“She didn’t kiss Sam that way,” Jack comments. 

Castiel recovers first, realizing what’s happened by Sam’s knowing look. 

“No,” Cas says in amusement. “I don’t believe she did.”

While Sam turns up the volume on the TV, giving you and Dean some privacy, Dean finally parts from you and tugs a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“You know, I promised you a car by Christmas,” he says with a grin. “Technically speaking, I did come through on that deal.”

You raise a brow, though a smile tugs at your lips. “Hmm. I suppose you did.”

“And if I remember right, I get a…what was it?” He pretends to recall with a raised finger. “Oh, that’s right. A consequence-free request.” 

“Here we go.” You roll your eyes, but amusement and warmth still gleam them. “All right, Dean Winchester. What can I do for you?”

He hums and seems to consider it. He makes a show of it, really, tilting his head, looking down at you with a deepening smirk. You fight not to blush under his scrutiny, even as your smile grows. Your hands rest against his chest, while his slide around your waist and pull you in closer. 

“How about you don’t go running off so soon,” he says, thumbing at your cheek. “Stay through New Year’s, at least.”

You’d be lying if you said you aren’t shocked. You raise a brow. 

“That’s your request?”

Dean shrugs, but his quirking smile can’t hide the fondness in his eyes. It warms you in a way you also don’t expect.  

Taking your chin with gentle fingers, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips. Your eyes close as you once again take in this heady feeling. Being with him still doesn’t quite feel real, but you’re holding on for as long as you can. 

When he eventually pulls away, he smiles at your slightly hazy face.  

“I already got what I wanted,” Dean says. “Now we just…keep this good thing going.” 

You really do blush this time.

“Got what you wanted, huh?” you tease. He gives you a wry look.

“Not what I meant.” Then he smirks, squeezing your hips. “But actually yeah, that too.”

You laugh and swat at his shoulder. 

“Well, since I’m honor bound. I suppose I can stay a few more days,” you reply. “And I mean, your birthday’s not long after that.”

Dean hums in agreement. “We talkin’ early birthday present?”

You flash him a cheeky smile and slowly slide your hands down his arms. 

“Then Valentine’s Day’s is just around the corner,” you add. Dean nods sagely, trying to temper his smile.

“Might as well stay through February,” he says.

You grin. “Ooh! St. Patrick’s Day!” 

Dean laughs genuinely then, throwing his head back. You hold onto the edges of his button-down shirt and tug him back to you. 

“What I mean to say is, I could consider staying longer,” you say. However long you want me, your tone suggests. “…I’ll just need to tie up a few things.”  

You know your father will be just fine if you decide to move to Lebanon someday soon. He now has his new wife to keep him company, and there isn’t much else tying you to your hometown besides nostalgia, and bittersweet memories of your mom.  

“Is that a serious offer?” Dean asks.

You grin up at him playfully. “If you want it to be.”

He smiles and kisses you again. The way he holds you, looks at you, it’s tender enough to make your throat tighten with emotion. 

“I do,” Dean says. He stares down into your eyes. “It’s you, sweetheart. For me too. Just you.”

 Your smile is tremulous, but oh, so bright.

“Good.” 

AN: And that's it, folks! 🥹 Let me know what you thought of Part 3. I truly hope you enjoyed it!

Coming Up Next:

I have one other Christmas in July fic in store, over in The Boys fandom. Look out for "Love Actually" (Soldier Boy x Reader) next week!

It's set in the "Break Me Down" story-verse, but can be read as standalone. I will tag everyone who follows that ongoing story (which is almost finished!!).

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

Comment below or send me an ask if you'd like to be tagged in this series!

@iprobablyshipit91 @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @emily-winchester @hobby27 @spnexploration @freewastelandstrawberry @stoneyggirl2 @satanicpixiedreamgirl @agothwithheavysetmakeup @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @melancholictearz @tipthejar @deans-baby-momma @nic-kolas @jacklesdeanvessel @beautyvaliant @mrshalverson2021 @ajjustice @leigh70 @violetlilysunshine @jackles010378 @ades106 @luvs4dria

[sensazioneultra]

I like you. I like you so much I could die.

OLD FASHION CUPCAKE (2022)

for jo @soulmatelines from your gifted santa! ☆

[epiphyllous]

Visitation Rights (Malleus/Reader) [1/3]

Malleus invites you over to help him celebrate Christmas, a human holiday. Neither of you think about what it all means for you to visit him, in the grand scheme of things (ft. Diasomnia). word count: ~3.8k notes: malleus x reader, gender-neutral reader "you", pre-relationship, mutual pining, you celebrate Christmas, heavily Diasomnia dorm!! (i love them)

[Part 2]

You breathe out a cloud of mist as you step out from the Dark Mirror and into an open field. You’ve been visualizing this very scenery as best as you could, chanting Briar Valley over and over, just to make sure you didn’t end up in the wrong place and get stranded.

You’re glad you decided to layer up as best as you could, heeding Malleus’ lukewarm warning that it ‘might’ be cold. And considering how much hardier a fae could be, well… You’re just glad to be able to use your winter boots and mittens for once. Though, your hands are cold for more reasons other than the temperature. 

One doesn’t visit the fae prince in his homeland without being at least a little nervous. (And one that you may have budding feelings for is another matter entirely.)

Malleus seemed eager to have you over to decorate his home for the holidays, excited to celebrate a ‘human’ tradition like Christmas. (And by eager, you mean insistent; and by excited, you mean, only to you. You doubt any of your other friends would understand his volley of questions about Christmas was Malleus being ready to celebrate.) You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your family hasn’t celebrated in years either aside from a few gift exchanges and holiday foods, but you suppose it isn’t like you’ve forgotten how to decorate a tree or make a few paper snowflakes. 

It’s only when you walk down the snow-lain path and lay your eyes on a grand stone castle that you remember that you really have other things to worry about besides the topping of the Christmas tree. Like being in a castle, for one. 

(You find it easy to treat Malleus like any other person because school is an equalizer in status. You don't see the fae prince at Night Raven College; you just see Malleus: technologically challenged, secretly needy, adorably curious, and deeply devoted. It is why you find it so difficult to remember who he is outside of campus.)

“What are you standing there gaping like a fish for, human?” Sebek asks, walking up to you with Silver beside him. 

You keep your mouth open. “I forgot the castle was huge,” you say lamely. 

“I don’t think the young master wants to decorate the entire place,” Silver says, saving you from saying what you actually meant– you forgot Malleus lived in a castle. (The amount of times you feel blindsided by a fact that is readily known to everyone– Malleus is a prince– is astonishing.) “Perhaps the dining room and a hallway.”

“...Right,” you settle for saying, glancing over at him. “Oh! Sebek!” You grins at him. “You’re in uniform! Very guardsman of you. Reminds me of the nutcracker outfit.” 

Sebek huffs, and you mildly think he’s like a peacock, preening. “Of course. One cannot slack on his duties as a guardsman on holiday” he says, looking over at Silver with triumph. 

Silver only sighs. “The young master requested we put on… holiday clothing. He didn’t have any examples, so I decided to just dress for the weather.”

“You look good in the blue sweater,” You say easily. “If you wanted to make it a ‘holiday sweater’ you just have to make it uglier somehow.”

“...Uglier?”

“Why are we just standing here?” Sebek interjects, and you can only sheepishly smile at him. “The young master will be waiting for us to return! Let’s not waste another moment!”

And off you go into a wintry wonderland.

.

In a land of fae, humans are rarely seen. A few decades can be nothing more than a blip in the long lives that they lead, which is why when Silver walks through the gates of the Fairy castle, some guards still stare at him with undisguised curiosity. As both a human and as a man endowed with a unique set of eyes and hair, his presence as the fae prince’s guardman gives him no break in scrutiny even though almost twenty years have passed. 

Considering the attention that Silver gets until now, it is no wonder that you draw the eyes of everyone in the near vicinity, especially as you walk through the castle as the fae prince’s esteemed guest. Are you royalty? Do you have any fae blood in you? Are you a powerful mage? (Perhaps someday.) It is the absence of all these, to make you completely normal, that makes you all the more curious to see.

You walk in between Silver and Sebek and pretend to not know they are watching.

“I’ve been wondering,” you say, as you walk past the main hall, “is the queen- erm, is Malleus’ grandma home?”

You almost bump into Silver the way he stops abruptly to turn and look at her. “You-” Silver gapes at her, and it’s the most visibly surprised you have ever seen him. “You want to meet the queen?”

“Malleus’ grandma,” you insist. “If she’s not home, it’s fine. I just thought it would be weird if she was home and I didn’t stop by and say ‘hi.’” You frown when Silver just continues to stare and wonders if you’ve gotten the family tree wrong.

…Or maybe it’s one of those things where it’s different because Malleus is royalty. 

“No? Is it weirder if I did meet her?” You continue, starting to get nervous at the silence from even Sebek. “Is she busy? I just don’t want her to think I’m being rude if I don’t come to greet her at least.” 

“Human, calm yourself,” Sebek says, huffing. If he looks partially impressed, he doesn’t say anything. “On most occasions, a visit to the castle would warrant an audience with the queen.”

“But she’s not here right now,” Silver says. He cracks a smile. “I should know better now than to be surprised you’re not afraid of meeting the Queen of Briar Valley.” 

“I never said I wouldn’t be,” you mutter. “I’d rather meet her than have her think I’m some delinquent student with no manners meeting her grandson.”

If Silver had any thoughts to share on this matter– that you were ridiculous for worrying over something like that instead of the possibility of offending a powerful queen– he didn’t share them. Instead, he watches you step into the dining hall repurposed for this holiday. “The young master told the guards to fetch the largest pine in the area,” he explains, amused at your evident shock. “So they did.”

“This is a three-day project,” he hears you say absently. Silver looks at the deep green pine that towers over them in a ten-meter loom and feels oddly proud for finding it. Sebek hasn’t stopped glaring at him for the past week for it.

.

Malleus is giddy. It is a word ill-befitting of his appearance and status, but there is no other explanation for his actions. 

Fae are not known to fatigue easily, but Malleus has not felt the need to sleep ever since you last told him that you were able to come to Briar Valley. Since then, he’s collected every appropriate ornament he could procure from human markets that celebrate Christmas– from stars to snow globes to these human-esque figurines they call ‘angels.’ For a holiday dinner, he asked Lilia for recipes (dubious) and mostly took long hours online trying to find some more. And if he’ll be honest, that’s the one part of his quest that has taken him the most time, as inept as he is with modern technology such as the internet or the smartphone. 

He is getting better with how prolific his friends text him, but it still takes him the same amount for him to write one message back to you as it does for you to write ten. He finds that he does not mind that much though; he likes knowing that you enjoy his company to write to him as much as you do.

Oddly enough, even though he knows this, he finds himself… nervous when he’s been informed that you have arrived.

It will be his first time playing host to a guest, among others. Certainly, he’s had political guests from nearby lands; princesses, princes, and counts that he has had no choice but to memorize their names. But this is you: his friend, his underclassman, his– well, your presence definitely meant a lot more to him than any dignitary from a wealthy family. 

Malleus wants you to enjoy your time here.

He walks to the dining room where he can hear your voice rise in excitement, and the anxiety bleeds out in favor of the thought that he would see you again. The sight of the real you in front of him is better than any other image he could have conjured. 

“Malleus!” He hears you call out, and his smile follows after yours like the tide to the moon. 

.

You look at the lines of boxes of decor that Malleus has brought into the dining room with a brief thought that all of these must have cost a fortune. 

“Did you just find whatever you could about Christmas?” You ask, as a joke.

Malleus only nods. “Yes,” he says simply. “Do they suit the needs for our decorations?”

You find it hard to think anyone in the world who celebrates Christmas would be remiss with all the different types of decor that was in the room in neat boxes. Taking out one from the pile, you open it and do not bother suppressing a smile when Malleus, Silver, and Sebek, who cannot resist his own curiosity despite his aversion, peek over your shoulders to see what is inside. 

There is garland for miles, light fixtures for the tree and elsewhere, snow globes and socks to hang over the fireplace. Ornaments to hang on the tree, banners and wreaths to hang on walls and doors, and even figurines like nutcrackers and reindeer to place on a mantel. If there was ever a decoration to be used in Christmas, they are there in one of the many boxes that have been collected. 

You would have thought it would be overwhelming to deal with so many choices, but instead, you find yourself excited at the prospect of having the creative liberty to choose from a wide variety of decor. It helps that Malleus’ eyes are attentively taking in every single material you have pulled out, and that even Silver and Sebek are arguing about what decoration should be placed and in what order. 

“I think we can start with the tree first…” you say. “I think it’s the main event, so I figured we could do it since we’re all decorating it together.”

“Hmph, since you are the more knowledgeable one for this holiday, I will allow you to call the shots for today,” Sebek says, and you gleefully think that’s more than enough of a concession from Sebek than you could ever ask for. 

“Alright, so I think we should start at the top going down with decorations,” you list off thoughtfully, “do bigger decor, lights, then the ornaments…” 

.

It is not as difficult to decorate the tree as you would have thought. For one, as much as Sebek and Silver bicker (mostly Sebek), they work well together because they are simply competent in what they set out to do. There was a fuss as to what garland should be placed on, but considering the size of the tree, it wouldn’t have mattered if everything was piled on. 

As the two flew around the tree to place the garland on, you work on untangling the Christmas lights from their boxes, which seems to be a difficulty even with magic involved. 

“Urgh…” You huff, dropping your arms in exhaustion from carrying what feels to be tons of lights. “No matter how well I packed them, even at home, they always end up all messed up like this.” 

“Yes, these… wires seem susceptible to being entwined,” Malleus agrees. “And you say that they are supposed to be lit up based on… electricity?” 

“Not too much,” you reply. “Or else you fry the light bulb’s circuit. See that tiny wire in the middle of it all?” You smile when Malleus bends down and peers closer at the Christmas light in your palm even though his hands are full of them. “We’ll want to connect it to an outlet with enough amps to power them without-” 

Your eyes widen. “Wait, you don’t have any outlets, do you? You always use magic! I can’t believe I forgot-”

Malleus takes a gloved hand and places it on the metallic prongs on the end of the wires, and the Christmas lights turn on. 

“I see what you mean by not putting too much power into it,” Malleus comments, as though you aren't looking at him with a look even brighter than the lights. 

.

“My, my,” Lilia says, whistling as he enters the dining hall. He looks at the tree which is partially decorated with garland and lights and nods in approval. “It seems the four of you are having fun. How’s the progress?”

“It’s… going,” you say mildly. “We’re going to put the ornaments on soon, but I think we’re a little stuck on what theme we should be going for?” 

Lilia blinks. “Whatever do you mean? It looks fine to me so far.”

“I know, but we’re arguing on what to put as a topper since that’ll finish the look, so-”

“Obviously,” Sebek says, “a statue of the young master should be on top.”

“And how would we get that?” Silver replies, voice even with the familiarity of arguing with Sebek. “We have other things we can choose from. We have a star,” a golden one, “an… angel,” with wings and halo, “this snowman,” with a top hat, “or this… old man with a red and white suit.” 

“That’s Santa,” you pop up. “We usually tell the kids in our town that he would bring presents on a magical sleigh pulled by a few reindeer, and he would climb down the chimney to drop the presents off underneath the tree.”

“How would he fit down each chimney?” Malleus asks, hand propped on his chin thoughtfully. “What if the house has no chimney?” 

“Well-”

“That is besides the point!” Sebek says fervently as you grins at him sheepishly. “If we place a symbol of the young master on top of the tree, the decor should be green!”

“Green on a green tree?” Silver sighs. “I’m not an interior designer but that won’t be as eye-popping as red or even silver and gold.”

“Sounds like quite the conundrum,” Lilia says lightly. If he is amused by how passionate the two guardsmen are over decorations for a human holiday they discovered not two weeks ago, he does not show it. “What does Malleus think?”

The four of them look toward Malleus who blinks at the attention. “How about a star on top? The decorations can be of any color, size, or shape as a result.”

Lilia claps his hands. “That’s settled.”

“Well, actually…” You say, trailing when the four Diasomnia members look at you. You bring up four different kinds of star toppers, much to half of their horror and to Lilia’s glee. “Which star do we want then?”

.

Malleus watches as you sit down in a huff next to him on the couch they dragged closer to the fireplace. You stretch your arms, saying something about snack-time as you both wait for Sebek, Silver, and Lilia to come back with much needed drinks and food for your break. Your shoulder and thigh end up touching his, and he finds that despite the fact they have plenty of room on the couch to be a distance from each other, he deigns not to mention it in case you decide to move away.

“Who knew Sebek and Silver would get so excited over ornaments,” you comment, laughter in your voice. It’s teasing when you address him, “They’re almost as excited as you to decorate the whole place up.”

There is always a funny feeling in his chest whenever you tease him– a mix of embarrassment and happiness to be known well enough to be spoken to so familiarly. He has yet to learn how to deliver a similar response back as readily as you do, but he is beginning to learn wherever he can. Besides, you don't seem to mind his straightforward comments.

“Yes, it is quite a surprise to me too. But I suppose it is hard not to be,” Malleus says, “when we have someone such as you to encourage and guide us.” He’s gratified when he sees you hide a pleased smile behind your hand. 

“Oh, stop,” you say, laughing, and he’s learned to understand that he’s welcome to continue his praise any time. “I’m so glad you decided to invite me to celebrate with you. This is the funnest I’ve had decorating for Christmas in ages.” You go to admire the tree and he turns to watch with you, only for him to look back briefly when he feels you lean into him, eyes still looking forward. 

He lets you lean, a small smile on his face.

.

Malleus knows that Silver and Sebek may sometimes have their qualms with his human choice of close companionship, but he feels grateful to know that they have your back in the face of Lilia’s cooking. 

You insist that you should try just a tiny bite, just to see what all the fuss is about, but all three of them are adamant about keeping you in the dark about the horror that lies behind Lilia’s gastronomy skills. Lilia is mildly confused but more than welcome to give more to the rest of the Diasomnia dorm if they are so eager to take your portion. Sebek blanches but stays true to his resolve, and even Silver, who looks tempted to fall asleep on the spot (or even pretend to if he cannot induce it) furrows his brows and bears it. 

Malleus should have known better than to think he would ever be able to stop you from doing what you want to do. 

You take a bite out of the gingersnap cookie faster than any of them can react. The four of them stare (three in apprehension, one in anticipation). You stop chewing after the third time and open your mouth. 

“Lilia… What did you put in this?”

“Oh, ginger, of course.” 

“...Anything else?” 

“...and garlic, all spice, honey, turmeric-” 

“I thought this was gingersnap?!”

You swallow your piece and take another just to be polite, but you and Lilia end up talking about the concept of a “balanced diet” and how not each dish has to be balanced to achieve a balanced diet. They aren’t sure if Lilia will get it, but perhaps an outsider’s opinion will finally change things for the better around here– and this thought is coming from even Sebek. 

Lilia seems thoughtful, not offended at all by the way you are framing the situation, talking about masking the aroma of the original dish by throwing in too many ingredients. When Lilia decides to try changing his style of cooking, they think perhaps the human legend of a Christmas miracle is real.

Change is not instant, unfortunately.

The other three, while Lilia is distracted, quietly slide their large portion of cookies to the serving plate and hope no one but them notices.

.

You don’t quite finish the tree that day, much to Sebek’s dismay. Your reassurance that you thought it would take more than three days goes unheeded as Sebek vows to complete the tree spectacularly tomorrow. 

Dinner at the Fairy Castle is a much quieter affair than you anticipated, but then again, your image of a castle is immensely more fairytale than what it seems to be. The five of them eat dinner deliciously set out by the chef, and the food, at least, is exactly how you imagined it to be. 

When Silver and Sebek turn in for the night, Lilia and Malleus show you to your room, and it's much bigger than any bedroom of yours have any right to be. The bed is a queen-size or king-size bed, though you can hardly tell the difference besides the fact it can fit more than four of you onto one. The view from the window is astonishingly grand, and the stars are clearly visible from this height even without a telescope.

Lilia bids you good night and it is just the two of you left in the room. You can feel your eyes drooping but you smile sleepily at Malleus who lingers at the door. "You wanna watch the stars before I fall asleep?" You ask and like clockwork, the two of you end up sitting by the windowsill, pointing at the constellations you can identify. 

Malleus, of course, knows much more than you do, having seen the same set of stars for the past century. You don't give up though, pointing out the other planets, hoping you actually remember the placement of them. It isn't long until you have him creating different constellations with you, playing connect the dots with much more celestial parts. In some ways, this is familiar— the way you guide Malleus through a silly detour to expand the way he looks at things.

"And there," you say, aligning the stars, "is the broom Azul keeps falling off during P.E."

"Is that so?" Malleus says in amusement. "How can you differentiate between brooms in the night sky?"

And this too– Malleus indulging in your sense of humor, playing along to the very end- has become a very familiar thing. He looks over to you with a focus that goes unnoticed as your eyes flutter in drowsiness. 

You can still giggle though. "It's because it's upright," you say, laughing at your own joke. 

Malleus likes this side of you too, partly delirious from sleepiness, inhibitions stripped by the presence of the dark and the way a day of hard work seeps into your bones. He thinks it's about time for you to fall asleep, though he would not mind staying up all night with you. “Are you falling asleep?” He asks, letting you lean onto him.

“I guess so,” you reply, yawning. You rub your eyes. “I’ll get in bed before I snooze on you.” You smile at him, and he only just resists telling you that he would be more than happy to lend his shoulder for you to sleep on. 

Perhaps another night.

“Good night, child of man,” Malleus says, watching you snuggle into a bed that more than dwarfs your figure. He hears you mumble a ‘good night’ and it is not long until you fall asleep.

You trust him to sleep in his presence; every time this happens, Malleus is still in awe. Your chest rises steadily with each breath you take, and Malleus takes his hand to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. He wishes you sweet dreams and makes the room dark.

Christmas is approaching. 

[ellatherepersons]

Huntlow in the snow !! What will they do (throw snow at hunter))